I've reached season 5 on my CSI rewatch and I'm a few episodes past "Swap Meet", where a woman is murdered after attending a swing party with other couples from the neighbourhood. Near the end of the episode there's a moment that made me jump from my seat:

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two cups. He hands her a cup of tea.)

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - BRASS' OFFICE]

Erin Brady: Everybody fantasizes about other people. (She glances at Grissom.)

Even you, Mr. Grissom. A neighbor, a friend ... girl at the office.

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - HALLWAY]

(The door opens. Paul Brady walks out of the hallway. Erin Brady walks out into the hallway. Sara is sitting in the hallway chair watching them. She watches as they meet and kiss.)

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two culps. He hands her a cup of tea.)

LIKE!!!!!!!

Right after Erin ends her sentence with 'girl at the office', the first time Sara and Grissom meet again, he brings her tea. This might be an innocent interaction but to me it seemed like a nod to this relationship they have where both are into each other, know about the other's feelings, but can't/won't do anything about it (although Sara has kind of given Grissom an ultimatum). I don't know if it was intentional - I'm guessing it is, because I picked it up immediately. I might or might not have squealed in delight.

Skit Contest Entry 8

Tinkering With Trust - By Tech Reel

YouTube: youtube.com/@DiddleBox

Tumblr: https://diddlebox.tumblr.com/

Derpy is relaxing in her room, then suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

Derpy: [humming peacefully, then hears the knock] Come in! [door opens]

Tick Tock: [slightly uncomfortable] Hey Derpy, could I.. ask you to do me a favor?

Derpy: [cheery] Of course, Tick Tock, what do you need?

Tick Tock: Well, I feel like lately The Doctor’s behavior around me has been.. peculiar. More so than usual.

Derpy: [mild frustration] Oh no, is he getting all crazy about unicorns again?

Tick Tock: [mild relief] Thankfully not. But he does seem incredibly tense whenever I’m near him. Do you think you could possibly talk to him and figure out what’s going on? I would myself, but I worry that might only add to the problem.

Derpy: Yeah I can ask him for you, I’m sure it’s nothing serious, probably just The Doctor being The Doctor.

Tick Tock: Thank you, Derpy. [Derpy walks away] In the meantime, I’ll go back to my latest project.

Derpy reaches the TARDIS console and finds The Doctor.

Doctor: [muttering quietly/angrily to himself] What if he.. Ooh I bet.. Oh he better not-!

Derpy: [confused/concerned] Um, Doctor?

Doctor: AHH WHAT?!

Derpy: EEP!

Doctor: [relief, regaining breath] Oh, Derpy, it’s only you.

Derpy: Are you okay, Doctor? You seem.. on edge.

Doctor: Yes, I’m fine, I’ve just noticed some peculiar behavior lately that I’m trying to investigate.

Derpy: You’re not the only one, Tick Tock said you’ve been acting a bit weird lately.

Doctor: [angry suspicion] Hmph, he would say that.

Derpy: [concerned] What?

Doctor: Derpy, have you noticed lately that Tick Tock’s ideas have been rather.. concerning?

[“woosh” or other sound to indicate flashback/transition]

-Brief Flashback 1/3

Tick Tock: Doctor, remind me, how is it that other ponies don’t seem to notice the TARDIS when you land in areas where it should be quite obvious?

Doctor: Ah, that would be the perception filter! A handy trick to make the ol’ girl almost unnoticeable, as long as someone isn’t looking for her specifically, their eyes will naturally glance away and ignore her, classic telepathic misdirection.

Tick Tock: Fascinating. I wonder if such abilities could be amplified and applied to a pony, making them able to slip in and out of places completely unnoticed and forgotten by any surrounding ponies.

Doctor: [suspicious] Hmm..

[“woosh” or other sound to indicate flashback/transition]

-Brief Flashback 2/3-

Derpy: Aw, look at those fillies playing “Red Light, Green Light”! I used to love that game when I was their age.

Tick Tock: Interesting strategy, freezing when in view of the opposing side. If you could move fast enough and appear unassuming, the enemy would have no idea what’s coming their way. You would be determined and on the move, while all they see is some sort of-

Doctor: [curious/uneasy] Statue?

Tick Tock: Exactly, nobody would suspect such a simple and seemingly innocent object.

[“woosh” or other sound to indicate flashback/transition]

-Brief Flashback 3/3-

Tick Tock: Is there a lot of technology back where you’re from?

Doctor: Oh there very much is. TVs, computers, motor vehicles, phones, et cetera. Humans are addicted to it! Can’t say I blame them.

Tick Tock: Well it can be very useful indeed. And though it isn’t as prevalent in this world, I would love to attempt to change that. It could be an excellent way of connecting ponies, it would just require some hard work and the right type of headset. Or maybe some sort of metal exoskeleton that can protect ponies from threats and even meet their needs, imagine the efficiency.

[“woosh” sound to indicate flashback/transition]

Back to The Doctor and Derpy in the TARDIS.

Derpy: I’ll admit, that last one did sound a tiiiny bit like Cyberponies, but Tick Tock is just coming up with things to try and help people. He would never do anything bad.

Doctor: [uneasy] I don’t know, I don’t want to believe it either, but his ideas have come too close to some very dangerous things I’ve seen both here and back in my world.

Derpy: Well why don’t we just ask him? Maybe if he explains-

Doctor: No no, if this is something then asking would only alert him to my suspicions, and that could be bad.

Derpy: [increasingly concerned] Doctor, you’re acting like he’s a villain, he’s one of the nicest ponies I’ve ever met and he would never hurt anypony.

Doctor: [skeptical, under his breath] Well we did meet him in the middle of a war..

Derpy: [frustrated/shocked] Doctor!

Doctor: I don’t mean to be mean, I’m just trying to be cautious. Either way, we’re not going to agree right now, so why don’t we find out together? I saw Tick Tock go to his room, let’s take a quick glance to see if there’s anything of note happening.

Derpy: You mean spy on him? That just.. doesn’t feel right..

Doctor: It’s the only way we’re going to get any answers. [starts walking] I’m doing it with or without you. So? Coming?

Derpy: Eh.. fine. Only to prove that he’s not up to anything.

Doctor: [slight skepticism] We’ll see. Off we go.

They both sneak up to Tick Tock’s door.

Doctor: [hushed voice] Look, his door’s a bit open.

Derpy: [hushed voice] Doctor, this feels really wrong.

Doctor: [hushed voice/frustrated] The only thing wrong here is the angle, all I can see are shadows. Oh.. wait just a second, what’s this?

Derpy: [hushed voice] What? What is it?

Doctor: [hushed voice, concerned and increasingly intense] Is that.. It can’t be, but that silhouette looks like.. like..

Derpy: [hushed voice, worried] Like what?

Doctor: [hushed voice, increasingly angry] Oh of course, it all makes sense. The background in war, restricted emotion, a knack for inventing..

Derpy: [hushed voice, concerned] What is it, Doctor? What does it look like?

Doctor: [furious] A Dalek!

The Doctor slams Tick Tock’s door open.

Tick Tock: AH! Oh, Doctor? Derpy?

Doctor: [fury, then calm confusion] Yes! We were here the whole time and know exactly what you’re planning! To think you’d have the NERVE to stay in my TARDIS while creating a.. a.. What in the world is that?

Tick Tock: Oh this? This is just a side project I’m working on. The perfect container for basic condiments and seasonings. One simple delivery system for ketchup, mustard, salt, and pepper.

Doctor: Oh.. well, uh that’s.. great! Definitely much better than.. Ah well never mind that. Handy little gadget there, Tick Tock, keep up the good work! [starts walking out]

Derpy: [stern] Doctor. Talk to him.

Doctor: Aw that’s not necessary, all’s forgotten, right Tick Tock?

Tick Tock: [confused] Doctor, what did you think I was making?

Doctor: Nothing! I just.. I.. [sighs, defeated/ashamed] I thought you were making a Dalek. A creature from my world that brought great pain to the universe..

Tick Tock: What? Why would you think I’d do such a thing?

Doctor: Well lately it’s seemed that a lot of your ideas have been reminiscent of ones I’ve seen in the past that caused a lot of harm. I was worried it meant you were going down a dark path of some sort.

Tick Tock [concerned]: I-I’m so sorry if something I did led you to believe that I would be that type of pony.

Derpy: You didn’t do anything, Tick Tock.

Doctor: [solemn] Derpy’s right, it isn’t you at all, it’s me. I’ve had friends and allies in the past that turned on me later in life. One of my greatest enemies.. was once one of my closest friends. What I’m trying to say is that trust.. doesn’t always come easy to me, and when I see potential signs of betrayal I get.. antsy.

Derpy: [shocked/sympathetic] Doctor, I’m so sorry. I had no idea your old friends treated you like that.. but remember, we’re not them. I know trust can be hard, but we’ll always do our best to treat you with the kindness you deserve.

Tick Tock: And if you ever have questions about my inventions or concepts you can always ask, I’d be more than happy to explain. Plus if something I’m thinking of reminds you of something dangerous, such warnings would be more than welcome.

Doctor: [calm/relieved] Thank you. I’m sorry I accused you, Tick Tock, there will be no more of that I can assure you. And as for you, Derpy, sorry for dragging you into this and making you worry. Thank you both for setting me straight.

Derpy: [cheery/relieved] Always happy to help. Now come on, let’s go somewhere, we’ve been cooped up in the TARDIS for too long.

Tick Tock: If I could make a suggestion, somewhere with food would provide a great opportunity to test my new device.

Derpy: This may be the only time I won’t suggest muffins.

Tick Tock: True, these would not make good additions to baked goods. Maybe I could make one that accommodates that better.

Derpy: Ooh it could have cinnamon, or blueberries, ooh chocolate!

Doctor: Could I suggest a compartment for butter?

The conversation trails off as the three walk off to the console room.

The End.

For bimbos could you do Coach Ukai?? Like, maybe you're a coach of a rival team or a teacher who just gives him trouble??

a/n: oh how much I love male masturbation.

Gives him trouble, you say? *laughs*

THIS POST IS NSFW! Minors do not interact or I'll bite.

warnings: male masturbation, hard language, slut shaming a lil,,, sorry, mentions of female masturbation

taglist form ~ bimbo masterlist

Ukai admits, he's not a cool-headed man.

He looses his cool often, not exactly the silent type, where passionate would be a better word to define him.

But it's been damn long since he felt this angry at someone.

Ukai's eyes close shut as his brows tilt upwards, his body shifting in the comfort of his bed, his lips, now red and swollen from biting on them so much, parting enough for pants of breaths to fall.

"Fucking slut," he groans, his hips jolting upwards as his thumb grazes the tip of his cock, "stupid fucking slut."

Ukai can't help it as his mind keeps coming up with new pictures of you, that skirt you wore the second day of camp, the way you bent forward so many goddamn times to pick up stray balls, making the man call for a break so he could- take care of himself.

(your mauve little thong, he remembers, a peek of your clothed cunt, your ass he wants to fuck)

"Prancing around the court with those fucking skirts- ooh-" with a newfound fever, he keeps rutting into his hand angrily, hips snapping into his fist. "-with that dumb little smile-"

He's getting close, especially close as he thinks about your face in tears and drool, gagging around his cock as he fucks your throat. "-making me wonder how that cute little cunt would taste like."

He fucking hates you so much, hates your dumb, pretty face, the way you'd smile at him whenever you saw the man, your face shining with sweat and lips apart like he just ate your pretty pussy- fuck.

You're so friendly, so touchy, you always visit Karasuno's coach whenever you spot him, and it's like you have it set to give him a boner every single day.

A little whore is what you are, there's no other explanation to those skirts and tightest pieces of shirts, nipples poking from underneath, in a sport camp, that is, always running after stray boys and him.

And at night- the nights are the worst as he hadn't had not one peaceful night with you in the room next to his.

With the noises you make, those cute little whimpers, the muffled cries and moans of his name- Ukai swears he can hear you stuffing your little pussy with your fingers.

It's adorable how you think he has no idea, really.

Every morning with that innocent little act to everyone else, no one suspects how much of a whore you are for the opponent teams coach.

He can't- fuck, he can't hold it as he feels an orgasm coming, he's just tethering on the edge and-

"Ukai-kun?"

A soft knock on the door and your pretty voice, mewling his name like that has Ukai painting his hands white with his cum, his chest heaving up and down as he lays in his bed, spent.

"Ukai-kun, are you okay?" You sound curious as he can tell you're leaning against the wood of his door to listen inside. "For fucks sake," Ukai mutters to himself, pulling his grey sweats back on as his still half-hard cock leaves a pretty print on the material, not caring if you'd hear what he's saying. "Waddya want?"

He pulls a few paper towels to clean his hand, but his cum still leaves a feeling on his hand. He frowns. Ukai wonders how it'd feel to have his fingers in your mouth, you cleaning him cum off of them like a good little girl.

If Ukai wasn't this fucking horny, he might've laughed at the way you stumbled forward when he opened the door so suddenly, your arms swinging around to regain your balance, you look as dumb as you are in that pretty little head.

"Oh-" you tilt your gaze up to meet his in shame, biting your lips apologetically. "Didn't mean to bother, it's just- dinners ready."

Your gaze prance around the room and back at him, the roots of his box-blonde hair damp with sweat, face flushed and lips red, veins of his arms now much more prominent.

Ukai watches as your eyes start lowering on his body, tracing around his chest his abs and- your widened gaze snaps back up to his smug eyes when you take notice of his cock pushing against his sweats, the sheer length of it enough to make you take a step back.

"'m not gonna eat," he says, going for the door to shut it in your face, in truth, he has a date later that day so he's saving himself for it, but you see to take it differently.

"Ukai-kun, you can't do that!" You cry out worriedly, "you have to eat, you work so much and-!"

"I already have a date later today," he shrugs you off quickly, "I'm not eating so I'll be hungry for it."

It's cute. The way the worried frown you had turns into a heartbroken pout. "Oh." You only mutter, your bottom lip already starting to shake with withheld tears. "Oh that's- g-good luck, Ukai-kun."

"Thanks."

You nod, looking like you dont wanna leave, now that you know he'll go to a date if you do- "anything else you gonna say? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I just..."

Your hands fiddle with each other as you try to form words, your heart beating rapidly in your chest- when did he come so close-?

"You just what?" Ukai laughs, his face suddenly so close to yours, you can feel his breath against your lips. "If you're tryna tell me to fuck you instead, hurry up."

"Wh-what?!" You cry out, embarrassed, eyes wide and lips gaping. "Ukai-kun that's-"

"Not what you meant?" He shrugs, pulling back, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness you didn't think was fulfilled. "Okay, then."

He once again reaches for the door before you put your feet between it to stop him from closing the door. "No- no, wait!"

"Oh?" Ukai's laughing, it's obvious he's mocking you, but you're a bit too dumb to see it. Well, that's no problem for him- your stupidity just makes all this easier for him, after all. "Was that what you meant, after all?"

"..." you roll your lip between your teeth, eyes looking at his for some mercy. "But- your date?"

"Eh, don't worry bout her," he shrugs, fingers meeting under your chin to tilt your face toward his, his other hand sneaking around your waist to pull you into the room. "a pussy's a pussy. I don't mind fucking into yours, darling."

~

"Now show me what you think of every night when you moan my name."

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

You — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Could I get 37 and 63 from the smut prompts with older Five, if you are comfortable, if not then understandable”

Smut Prompts:

37. “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

63. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

A/ N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope it got close to what you wanted. ❤️

Guys, I really understand who doesn't feel comfortable reading or writing Five's smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Smut, bad words.

— — — — —

You had dated some guys before, because no one turned 22 without getting hurt a little for love, but no relationship proved as intense (and difficult) as dating Five Hargreeves. If you could describe the 1 year that you were together, you would use only two words: sex and coldness.

Sex because Five had an appetite you've never seen in your life and you loved it. It was strong, intense, hot. He always seemed to want to discount your internal problems by fucking you hard, and you couldn't deny that his raw footprints drove you crazy.

And coldness because Five Hargreeves, as well as being hot in sex, was the north pole in romance. He was dry, very reserved, without any appreciation for physical touch or cutest demonstrations. He did not like to talk to much or participate in frivolous conversations.

He always had a sarcastic or rude argument for his comments about thinking that the two of you should act more like a couple and not like nymphomaniacs. And as time went by, you got tired of feeling that you didn't have a partner but a sex disk.

That's when you finished it all. It ended because you liked affection and love and not just fucking. It ended because you thought you deserved more and you didn't want to build a life with someone so cold.

That was the purpose of a relationship, wasn't it? Wanting to build a future with someone. And when you didn't see yourself building a future with Five anymore, you just finished. It was difficult, obviously. It shattered your heart, because in the end you still loved him, but it hurt more to know that there was no way to fix it.

And that's why you found yourself here, in a crowded nightclub, at 2 am, dancing with your friends and kissing any man just to try to forget Five. It had been three months since you two broke up, and staying in your room crying and eating chocolate didn't seem to be helping you get over it. So when your friends asked you out, you went. You went because you wanted to get drunk, kiss some cat guy and forget that your heart was in pieces.

And that was why you were kissing that guy, squeezing the back of his neck while his hands went down around you waist and squeezed your ass. He didn't have the intensity and electricity of Five, but he was a handsome, so... it would have to do.

As soon as you separated from him and started dancing with your friends again, enjoying the deafening music and what the drink did to your head and body, you felt more numb from the pain.

“I need another drink.” You warned one of your friends, almost screaming to try to make yourself heard with all that deafening music.

As soon as she nodded and you started walking among all those huddled bodies, you arrived at the counter a few seconds later, sitting in the only vacant seat.

“Vodka, pure.” You didn't want anything sweet, too soft. You wanted something rough, strong, that would mess with your system.

You needed something stronger than the pain you were feeling.

After turning the first shot, swallowing and closing your eyes for a second, trying to hold the grimace and the strong taste, you were going to ask for another when a voice came up behind you:

“Nothing more for her, thanks.”

You froze. Your heart failed and then shot to alarming levels. You knew that voice, you knew it better than your own. Suddenly, whether by drinking or by the presence behind you, your body started to get hot, shaky and wobbly. If you tried to get up now, you would surely fall.

That bastard wouldn't dare ...

“Hello, stranger.”

Yes, he would dare.

You turned to Five, amazed. Suddenly, you have never felt so sober in life, rigid, with heightened senses. And that was what you were talking about too. Whenever Five was involved, you became someone you didn't like. You were much more attentive to any intonation or half words, searching for hidden meanings for him sentences.

You hated that. You hated having to look for clues when in fact the person should say with word what he felt. You hated having to analyze syllable by syllable to know the true feelings. When all a dating should bring was honesty, calm, peace and complicity.

“What are you doing here?!” You were not smooth, because any situation involving Five was already exasperating for you.

“Is it forbidden to go to a nightclub?” The same condescending tone, the hands in the pockets, the smug look, the smirk.

Five was beautiful as sin, it was the definition of superb, but outer beauty was not you its weakness. So, as much as he looked like a God under those flashing lights, you just rolled your eyes.

“As far as I can remember, you called places like ‘Waste of time’ or ‘Ridiculous places Klaus goes to’ or, ‘Am I better than these places’ ” You were acidic, turning back to the front and asking the waiter for a shot again.

Five wouldn't tell you how much to drink.

“How skittish are we?” But turning forward was a bad idea, because Five leaned in behind you, breathing in your ear, in your neck.

You held a gasp, pressing your thighs together and trying to focus on anything other than the intense presence behind you.

“You are so skittish” then the voice continued under your skin, and you felt some fingers from it take your hair off your neck. “You used to be so obedient...”

So you were transported to the millions of memories of the times he fucked you. The millions of times he made you scream and obey his every command. Yes, you were a good girl for Five. And that sucked.

“Five.” Your voice was a warning, and when the waiter served your shot, you turned without thinking twice or without Five daring to intrude. “Go away”

You got up from the chair, trying to dodge his touch. Because you knew that if he touched you, you would give in, and if you gave in, you would end up in his bed, and if you did, your heart would be even more broken the next day.

Five frowned, questioning, his gaze fixed on you. Then all that intense energy was replaced by an angry wave.

“Is it because of him?”

His?

Now you frowned, but in a confused expression and you were beginning to wonder if Five had gone mad.

“Who…”

“Don't be innocent, I saw you with him today, just now. Rubbing on him like... like... ”

So Five was close to you again. The height of him making you lift the chin to look at him, the smell of man invading your nose... God, his are a fucking handsome and...

Focus!

"Whose are you talking about?" Five was still looking at you angrily and now with a hint of irony.

And that's when you realized who he was talking about. The guy you just kissed.

“For God's sake, Five!” You answered, incredulous. “It’s not ‘how are you, Y / N?’ Or ‘how have you been, Y/N?’ No, this is always your possessiveness of not losing your toy to someone else! But you know, big boy, your train left a long time ago.” You looked at him as if Five were your biggest enemy, and turned your back on him.

You needed to get away, needed to keep as much distance between you as possible. You already felt the grip in your throat, your eyes burning. God, this guy had an overwhelming power over you. You still love him, much, holy fuck!

Then you crossed the nightclub again, past the sea of ​​dancing bodies, hoping that, luckily, Five would lose sight of you in the crowd. But you no longer needed songs, dances or drinks, your mind was pounding so much that you just thought about being alone, at least for a second.

You continued to advance between the bodies, and when you reached the other end of the club, now far enough from the bar, you entered the ladies' room. The deafening sound of the music was drowned out when you closed the door, and only then did you manage to release the breath you were holding.

You was put both hands on the sink, taking a moment with your own thoughts before looking ahead and seeing your reflection. You weren't as bad as you felt, some mascara had out. The mirror said you should go home, but you didn't know if you could face those people outside with the possibility of seeing Five any second.

Lowering your head once more to turn on the tap and wet your hands to rub the back of your neck, you sighed deeply when the sensation of the cold water hit your hot skin. But all the sense of relief was gone when you looked in the mirror again and saw Five.

You gave a startled scream, turning to him in a burst and resting your hands on the sink behind you.

“What the fuck, Five!” Your heart was still pounding, but you were beginning to suspect it was because of his little smile.

Five was strode toward you, and he didn't stop until your body was trapped between his and the sink. It was hot. Five seethed like hell and smelled of sin, and you began to feel the pulse of it. It was unbearable how much power he had over you. But the truth was that you would always be a moldable dough in the hands of Five. Worse, he knew it.

He knew because you could see it in the way he looked at you, the way his hands went up from his your thigh to his neck, the way he leaned into your ear and murmured:

“You can't run from me, cute.”

And if you were a molding dough before, now you were clay on his fingers. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath through and pressing your fingers into the sink behind you.

“You were never a good liar.” He continued, the velvet voice from hell seducing you "I can feel your excitement from here."

Now you were on fire. Your core pulsed for him, your body burned and the desire became so strong that you felt like crying.

“Five...” You wanted to tell him to walk away, to leave. But your body begged you to willingly accept what he was giving you. The truth was, you wanted more.

“My good girl” now his thin, white fingers were on your neck, running the tips over your heaving skin.

Five Hargreeves was the wrong way and you were going willingly. You wanted to leave, but your whole body was begging you to let him touch you some more. Just a little more…

“Look at you…” Five's voice was still hoarse and seductive, his right hand wandered from your neck to the side of your body, outlining all your curves as if it were a goddamn treasure “I barely touched you and you're already excited.”

You wanted to say that it was ridiculous, that he was very arrogant. But you would only dig your own grave, because the truth was that you were excited. Much. And lying to a fucking genius was almost always impossible.

"Could he make you feel as good as i do?" If he hadn't been a presumptuous arrogant before, now he was.

His hand sank between your legs, and you groaned loudly when you felt the cold finger touch the core of your burning panties. You tilted your head back, leaning against the mirror as you closed your eyes in a silent groan.

“I bet you don't” now kisses landed on the skin of your exposed neck, heading towards the neckline “But I want to hear you say it.”

You could not. Because his fingers were playing with you and his mouth was all over the pulp of your breasts. It was too much, too much stimulus for your poor body that would be satisfied with just one kiss.

That's when the thought of the kiss brought you back to Earth orbit. Kisses have always been very intimate and romantic, and you remember that Five almost never kissed you much. It hurt you. It hurt because it looked like you were good enough for him to fuck you, but not good enough for him to think about being more loving and fighting for your relationship.

“Five…” Five lifted the mouth of your breasts, looking at you intently. “ I can't.”

"Why not? We had fun a loot before. ”

“Because this... this is not healthy. We will regret it tomorrow. ”

Five frowned, his hand motionless between your legs.

“Is there someone else?” His voice was low.

“Oh my God, no!” It was absurd how he only cared about that “You don't care about me! Only if someone is fucking me! ”

“God, Y / N!” Five was amazed “ What do you think I'm doing here?!"

You looked at Five as if him were crazy, and looked down at the position of their bodies and looked back at him, signaling very well what was happening.

Five laughed, perplexed, and took his hands off you immediately. He took a few steps back, the shadow of bitter laughter still bordering his mouth.

“Do you think I came here just to eat you?” Five's vocabulary could always be very dirty when he wanted to, and that secretly always turned you on. “Holy God, Y / N!”

“You think this is what ?!”

Then he came to you. And long hands held your face with intensity. There was despair in that touch, passion... and a very overwhelming desire.

“I want you. Ardently.” His voice was not soft “I came here to meet you and try to talk, because I want you back so much. Because I love you. But when I saw you in that little dress... kissing another one... Ah, Y / N” Now he stoked you with the words, each syllable beating against your lips “ I wanted to fuck you in front of everyone for them to see to whom that bitch belongs.”

You sighed loudly. You didn't want to, but it was involuntary. You should want more. You should want him to apologize out about the things he did, ask you back. But the truth was, the desire rumbled through your veins and you didn't want to wait any longer. For now, that would do.

You kissed him. With intensity, despair and savagery. Five reciprocated like a hungry animal and put his hands on your thigh, propelling you up and sitting you in the sink. You were hungry animals that used each other as food.

You thought a sex of reconciliation would be loving and intense. But Five always showed you that sex with him would always be rude. He was didn't make love to you, he fucked you, hard.

Five clutched your body with all his fingers, marking yoyr skin with purple ten digits. He pulled you close as if he could merge with you, and the panties you wore were brutally torn when he went to take them off.

When Five touched you, where you wanted it most, and pushed two fingers brutally into you, you screamed loudly and whined afterwards like a kitten.

"Oh, I will destroy you.” It was not a promise, it was a warning, a reminder of what he would do to you seconds later.

“Five!” You clasped your hands on his shoulders, shifting your waist around he fingers “please... please...!”

“Please what?!” Now he was rough, the fingers coming in and out of you aggressively, hitting your aching walls “Please, Five, fuck me? Or, please, Five, make me come?”

You groaned loudly, the words matching his aggressive rhythm.

“Fuck me! Fuck me, now! ” You stirred up more “Fuck me hard, Five.”

Suddenly, his other hand clung to your face, pulling you by the chin to look at him.

“Command, no! Begging, yes, it's cute, now commanding is unacceptable!” It was a clear, fierce warning. And when you whimpered and agreed to submit, Five tightened your jaw “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

Then him hand that was on your chin went to the nape of your neck, holding your hair tightly and bringing you closer. He removed his fingers from you, and come close at your mouth. You obediently opened it and took his two fingers. He didn't have to tell you to start sucking, running your tongue over all the mess you had made on his fingers.

“My dear good girl.”

His approval was followed by a friendly pat on your face, removing his hand from the back of your neck and unfastening his own belt. Five didn’t give you time to think before entering you, sinking deep into your core.

You screamed, pressing his fingers to your mouth and closing your eyes with intensity. But Five didn't give you time to breathe, his rhythm was constant, raw, arrogant, he was pushing hard inside you and you couldn't help but let out loud moans.

Five used the hand that was not in your mouth to grab your left thigh, releasing a loud, cracking slap when you squeezed it inside. You tried to keep sucking his fingers, but the intensity he put in you was so strong that your head was spinning.

“Do you want to come, little girl? Do you want to come for me?” He withdrew his fingers from your mouth, dissatisfied.

"Yea! Yes, please!"

Now you were begging. Begged in a pure and submissive way, and Five loved it. His pace increased, the thrusts became strong and steady, and his limb beat so deeply that you lost your breath. You were close, so close. felt herself being pushed into a giant, endless chasm, held by a thread that would soon break.

“Come to me, little bitch!” And that was cutting the wire.

You came. Intensely. You squeezed him inside as if your life depended on it and was rewarded with the hot, strong liquid filling you to the brim. You two were both panting, sweaty and satisfied. And you whimpered when his member was gone and the cum dripped from its pulsing core.

Five stared at the scene, mesmerized, letting out a loud sigh of satisfaction and kiss you again, now soft and lovin

"Welcome back." and you laughed, pushing his shoulder at the stupid joke.

Heartstring Melodies – Part 5

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (feat. Jeon Jungkook x Reader)

Genre: Soulmate AU, College AU, fuckboy!Yoongi

Summary: Min Yoongi, the fuckboy of the whole college and the guy all girls fall for, should be your soulmate? You don’t believe that, you don’t want to believe that. Therefore, you and your best friend make a pact: She pretends to be you and gets together with Yoongi. Nothing can go wrong with that, right?

Warnings: The angst is strong with this one; also a bit of smut, swearing and a lot of stupid decisions

Word Count: 4.2K

Previous / Next

Chapter five: «They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.» – f.c.f.

You had finished the phone call with your father a few minutes ago, but you were still holding your cell phone in your hands, completely speechless. The thought that you might have made a mistake by making this plan with Liv had already crossed your mind days ago. But that you would suffer permanent damage if you didn’t tell the truth, shocked you. To put it mildly. 

This shock almost pushed the pain into the background, which still flashed through you every few seconds. Even if it had no effect on your health, you definitely couldn’t live with this constant pain. Not to mention the emotional pain. You were reminded every second that Liv and Yoongi were just–

You shook your head and put these thoughts out of your mind. You did not want to think about that at all. Ew, no. That was still your best friend. And even though you often had to listen to stories about her exciting sex life, it was different to be reminded of it indirectly. 

It was almost like an annoying alarm clock that would go off whenever it wanted to and that you could never turn off. 

But if you didn’t clear this with Liv, it seemed like the batteries would be taken out of this alarm clock soon anyway; and that forever. 

It didn’t help, you had to sort it out. The faster the better.

With a sigh you dialed Liv’s number. It rang for a long time, but you waited patiently and breathed a sigh of relief when your patience was rewarded.

“What?” Liv asked annoyed. She sounded out of breath and you repressed the reason that came to your head, why that was.

“Liv, we really need to talk,” you began seriously. 

“Can’t we do that tomorrow? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

You didn’t, but you assumed it was way past one in the morning by now. But you knew that Liv hadn’t slept yet and that that wasn’t the reason why she sounded annoyed. So you persisted. “Liv, we really need to talk. Yoongi is with you, right?”

For a moment it was quiet on the other end of the line. Then a quiet: “How do you know that?”

“Are you alone or is he still next to you?”

“No, I went into the bathroom when I saw that you were calling,” Liv explained and now you also heard the slight reverb as her voice bounced off the tiles. 

“Okay, good,” you said and took a deep breath to prepare yourself for the following conversation. “Please let me finish before you argue with me. Okay?”

“Sure, but maybe keep it short. Yoongi is probably wondering where I am.”

“I don’t think I can keep such a serious subject short, but I’ll try.” Again, you took a deep breath. At least the pain in your chest had disappeared. “Well, I just got off the phone with my dad because I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my chest. Liv we have to end this and tell Yoongi the truth–”

“What?!” exclaimed Liv in surprise and you flinched at the volume of her voice. 

“It’s bad for me that you’re with Yoongi. Every time you… are around him, I get this pain in my chest.”

“How do you even know that this is related to him? Yoongi was doing more than great the last few minutes.”

You sighed again on the inside. You knew Liv wouldn’t give up that easily. “The pain radiates from exactly where the tattoo is. That’s why I called my dad and he said that it will be dangerous for me if you continue to be with him.”

You were waiting for an answer from her, but all you heard was the static of the connected call. “Liv, are you still there?” you asked after a few seconds. 

“You like him, don’t you?” came the answer you hadn’t expected instead. 

“What?”

“You think I didn’t see the way you looked at him today?”

There it was, the sentence you had been waiting for all along. The fact that you had to wait so long for it almost surprised you. Normally this behavior from your best friend would hurt you, but right now you had other problems. 

“Liv, please listen to me. This has nothing to do with the fact that I–”

“Oh come on,” she interrupted you and her voice reminded you of toxin, which poisoned you from within. “You’re just looking for an excuse to be with him.”

“What?!” it was up to you this time to cry out in surprise. “I want nothing from him. My feelings for him have not changed.” Lie. “I have Jungkook and I’m more than happy with him.” Another lie. “I wish I could never see Yoongi again and erase the name from my skin.” More lies. “But I can’t do that. I didn’t choose this, Liv. But here we are and our behavior hurts not only me but him as well. So if you won’t do it for my sake, then at least do it for his. Every time I am with Jungkook, he will feel the same as I do now.”

Liv seemed to think about your words and for a short moment you had the hope that you had convinced her. But that hope vanished into thin air with Liv’s next sentence. “Well,” she said and her voice reminded you of a huge block of ice, “maybe you should end it with Jungkook then.” She took the ice block, swung it and thrust it deep into your chest. With the next painful breath the line was cut.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Hey, everything okay?” Yoongi asked when Liv came out of the bathroom after a few minutes.

She just nodded briefly and let herself fall into the bed next to him. Immediately, Yoongi enclosed her face with his hands and stroked a few strands of hair from her face to get a better view of his soulmate. 

Liv closed her eyes briefly before she sat up in bed and looked at Yoongi seriously. “That was Liv,” she said and Yoongi also sat up as he suspected that this would be a longer conversation. “She is unbelievable.”

“What happened?” he asked and gently took her hand. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb to calm her down. He had never seen Y/N so angry.

Furiously, Liv ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t know what her problem is, but apparently she has something against us being together.”

Immediately Yoongi pinched his eyebrows together. “We are soulmates. How could she object?”

“I don’t know!” said Liv and threw her one free hand up in frustration, “She’s jealous, I don’t know.”

“Jealous?” Yoongi paused skeptically. “What about Jungkook?”

Liv shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe she’s playing him.”

Yoongi angrily pulled back his hand and looked at Liv. He felt the anger slowly climb up his windpipe and swallow his tongue. He had to watch what he said. “Is this a guess or did she say something to you?”

Liv looked at him pitifully. “This is a guess, but Yoongles… you can’t believe a word she says. No matter what she tells you, okay? She’s a notorious liar, and I’m afraid she’ll come between us.”

Yoongi’s anger disappeared immediately. He took Liv’s face in his hands and looked at her seriously. “Nothing can come between us, sweetheart. You belong to me and I belong to you. Nothing and no one can change that.”

Liv smiled. To outsiders, who knew the whole story, it seemed cool, calculating. But for Yoongi it looked as if Liv was reassured by his words. And that meant that her plan had worked out. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

You didn’t even try to put make-up on your dark circles the next morning. Such a strong concealer did not exist and would have to be invented first. Frustrated and tired, you grabbed your bag and headed off to your first lecture. All the way there and during the lecture itself you thought about the conversation with Liv. You were pondering what you could have done better. 

Maybe not coming up with this stupid pact in the first place?

You pushed back your inner voice and thought about it further. Maybe you just hadn’t made it clear to Liv how serious the situation was. Maybe she was under the assumption that the pain was just a slight discomfort. You hadn’t even told her what exactly the consequences would be.

But on the other hand, she hadn’t asked either. Wouldn’t a good friend have done that? Wouldn’t a good friend be worried if she heard that her best friend was in pain and that it was because of her? 

You didn’t see a spark of concern yesterday. On the contrary, you had never experienced her as you did yesterday. And to be honest, it scared you a little. You had hardly recognized Liv yesterday. You had always thought that no man could come between you. But usually you also had different tastes when it came to men. You would never have chosen someone like Yoongi. It was obvious that fate seemed to give a shit about your opinions and feelings. 

You had to talk to Liv. Best in person and in private. With this certainty, you left your second lecture and headed for your friend’s apartment without any excuses. The walk did you good and you had time to get your thoughts in order. The fresh air gave you some clarity so that you knew exactly what you were going to say to her when you stood outside her door a few minutes later.

You raised your hand to ring the bell, but at that moment the door was already opened. Liv almost ran you down when she barged through the door. “Oh,” she said as she recognized who was standing at her door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you gave back and didn’t quite know what to do with yourself. All the sentences you had thought of were blown away when you saw her face. 

“Why are you… uh, why are you here?” she asked while standing in the doorway, a little insecure.

“Can we talk? I mean, really talk about this?” You looked at her nervously. You were afraid that she would shut you down again and send you away.

But she nodded directly. “I wanted to talk to you, too.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go to the bank before it closes. But afterwards we can talk. Would you like to wait here? The appointment won’t take long. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Okay,” you agreed and Liv stepped aside to let you into her apartment.

“See you soon,” said Liv and closed the door behind her. 

The silence that lingered in the apartment enveloped you and you threatened to choke on it if you didn’t move immediately. So you took off your jacket and shoes and strolled around the apartment for a while. You had been here so many times, all the days and nights you had spent here, and yet the four walls never felt so strange as they did now. 

You took a look at your phone, but not even five minutes had passed. That would be a long thirty minutes, if–

Your stream of thoughts was interrupted when you suddenly heard a key in the lock. Oh wow, Liv was back sooner than you thought. Maybe she had forgotten something and had to come back again. 

But it wasn’t Liv who stepped through the door at that moment and ran his fingers through the windswept hair. Your heart beat faster and a warmth flowed through you as Yoongi looked up and reciprocated your stare. Immediately he froze in the door frame, the door still in his hand. He stared at you a moment longer before he cleared his throat and turned around to close the door. 

“Where is Y/N?” he asked and stripped off his shoes and jacket. He had turned his back to you so you could not see his face. 

“At the bank, but she will be back in twenty minutes,” you replied automatically. You clenched your hands briefly into fists to pump blood through them. Your fingertips were so cold that you were afraid they would fall off at any moment and fall onto the equally cold floor. You didn’t know why, but the atmosphere between you was tense. 

Not tense in a good sense, as it was yesterday. Something was wrong, you just didn’t know what.

Yoongi just grumbled, before he let himself fall on the sofa, phone in one hand, without looking at you again. You watched him scroll through something with his thumb and fix his gaze firmly on the screen in front of him. 

You felt more than uncomfortable as you stepped from one foot to the other. The silence between you hurt. He ignored you, you realized that in one fell swoop. The lump that formed in your throat made it more difficult to breathe from second to second. You cleared your throat and prepared to talk. But Yoongi beat you to it.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said without taking his eyes off his phone. 

You were surprised and frowned. “What do you mean?” Your voice sounded rough, as if you hadn’t spoken for a thousand years. 

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly as if he was frustrated before he lowered his phone and looked at you. “You spoke to Y/N yesterday, right?”

Ah, that’s where it came from. So Liv had told him about it. The only question was what exactly she had told him that Yoongi was just stabbing you with his gaze. 

Nervously you wrung your hands and nodded slightly. “What did she tell you that we talked about?”

Yoongi put his phone back in his pocket and slowly straightened up. He kept fixing you with his gaze as he slowly came towards you. He stopped about one meter before you. “What do you want with Jungkook?”

Confused, you took a small step back. You needed the distance between you to get a clear thought. You wondered if Yoongi could feel the warmth that developed between you. “What do you mean?”

“You understood me correctly,” he replied coolly, “what do you want from him? Are you playing with him?”

“What, no!” You shook your head vehemently, but Yoongi only raised one eyebrow. 

“Then what do you want from me?” he asked and looked at you provokingly. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Min Yoongi,” just saying his name caused you trouble. 

Yoongi sneered. “At least admit it, Liv.” You didn’t let on, even though you wanted to correct him. “You really suck.”

Your head shot up and you stared at him in shock.

“You are the worst best friend I have ever seen. You’re hitting on your best friend’s soulmate and at the same time you’re messing with another boy. Are you with him to get closer to me or what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have a plan,” you said and your voice gave out at the end of the sentence. You felt the first tears burning in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You wouldn’t give yourself the shame to cry in front of him and show him how much his words hurt. “I don’t know what she told you, but I don’t want anything from you, nor do I mess with Jungkook.”

Yoongi shook his head. “I hate people like you. People like you are the scum of our society. I hope Jungkook realizes what a terrible person you are. Unfortunately the kid won’t let himself be talked out of it, I already tried telling him you’re just playing with him.”

You had your eyes on the ground so Yoongi couldn’t see the tears streaming down your cheeks. You had nothing to say, you just wanted to get out of the situation. 

“I’ll take your silence as approval of what I just said.”

You felt your lower lip tremble when you had to suppress a sob. Slowly you looked up and you could tell from Yoongi’s look that he was surprised when he saw your tears. “I knew you were an asshole.” You were hoping that this realization would make it easier. That it would reduce your desire to tell him the truth and wrap yourself around him. But still your fingers twitched, the ones you wanted to bury in his hair. 

Yoongi’s hands twitched as well, but whatever he wanted to do, he seemed to hold back. Instead, he continued to watch you struggle not to have a complete breakdown right in front of him.

“Maybe you should stop for a moment and ask yourself who the bad guy is. I don’t know what she told you, but I don’t want to cause any harm to anyone.”

You looked at Yoongi and hoped that you could somehow telepathically tell him what you didn’t dare to say. Your surprise was great when he suddenly took a step towards you and surrounded your face with his hands. You were gasping for breath when his fingers touched your skin. The feeling that flowed through you reminded you of the feeling when you pressed the last piece of the puzzle into place and could finally see the finished picture. 

Your tears stopped, as did your heartbeat for a second, and you looked at Yoongi and saw that he must be feeling the same. His eyes widened for a short moment while he stared at you. You stared back and were completely frozen in fear that any movement of you would break the spell you two were under.

Yoongi was the first one who had pulled himself together again. He let his gaze slide down a bit and came to a halt at your lips. You watched him nervously wet his lips with his tongue before his eyes searched for your gaze again. You saw the unspoken question, which practically dangled between you like a mistletoe at Christmas time. 

As if by remote control, you raised your hand and grabbed his hoodie. You felt the soft material between your fingers and pulled him slightly closer to you. 

That was all Yoongi needed. You closed your eyes and at the same moment you felt his lips on yours. He released one hand and grabbed your hips to pull you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck while your mouths pressed passionately together. You opened your mouth when you felt his tongue on your lips and immediately they fought for the upper hand.

Yoongi grunted happily into the kiss as you buried a hand in his hair and pulled it. The kiss became wilder, his hands moving up and down your upper body and exploring everything that could only be guessed under your sweater. A steady, gentle vibration seemed to emanate from the lines under your breast and you felt as if you were about to be lifted off into the sky at any moment, so light you felt.

But the higher you rise, the harder you fall.

A moment later Yoongi retreated as if he had been stung by a tarantula. Totally out of breath, he stood in front of you and looked at you in shock. Only now did you realize how warm you were. You would like to take off your top to let some air to your skin. But your attention was focused on Yoongi, who took another step back. 

“What the hell?” he said quietly and more to himself than to you, “Fuck,” followed a second later and frustrated, he pushed his hair back but it fell back into his face. You felt the need to smooth it out of his face. But with the look he gave you, you did not dare to approach him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed and pulled on his hair. He began to run up and down the room.

“Yoongi,” you said softly, but he seemed too engrossed in thought to hear you.

“Shit, that shouldn’t have happened,” he murmured without stopping. 

“Yoongi,” you said again, this time with more determination. As he passed you, you grabbed his forearm and he stopped immediately. His head snapped towards you and he looked at you in shock. You hoped that he could put one and one together himself and understand what had just happened. 

But he yanked his arm out of your grip and you backed off in surprise. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he repeated and let his arms dangle at his side. “Y/N is my soulmate, I don’t understand this.” He stared at you and you could see the wheels spinning in his head. But unfortunately not in the right direction. “What have you done to me? Y/N is my soulmate and you just kiss me?”

“I kissed you?” you asked in surprise.

He shook his head, but not to deny your question. “I don’t understand this.” 

“Yoongi,” you said cautiously and took a step towards him. 

Immediately, he almost stared at you angrily. “Stay where you are.” You flinched at his tone of voice. “Listen, you don’t tell Y/N about this mistake and I won’t tell Jungkook. Deal?”

You’ve had enough of deals. They had brought you nothing but pain lately. You were about to refuse and tell Yoongi the truth but then you stopped when you saw Yoongi’s face. He was desperate. His eyes begged, begged for you to agree with him. 

Without having control over your body, you noticed your head nodding by itself. Relieved, Yoongi breathed out. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. He glanced at you once more before he went to the front door and put on his shoes and jacket.

“Where are you going?” you heard yourself ask. Your voice sounded strange, not like yourself. 

“To the studio, I need to clear my head. I can’t see Y/N, not when I feel as guilty as I do now.”

Guilty. 

So that’s what he felt when you kissed him. Unlike you, who had probably been the happiest person in the world when Yoongi pressed his lips to yours. For a brief moment, you had felt wanted and loved. But that feeling had withered so quickly that the flowers now began to rot at the bottom of the pit of your stomach. You felt the nausea already rising within you.

Without another word and another look, Yoongi yanked open the door and disappeared faster than you could say something else. You flinched as the door slammed loudly shut. 

Your eyes began to burn again and you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears. You didn’t care about the pain that made you flinch as a result. The disappointment that ate you up from the inside was much worse. 

“I’m such an idiot,” you said, pulling your hair. You pulled them to feel something other than the pain inside you. “Fuck,” you said and angrily wiped away the tears. You were immediately reminded of Yoongi’s gesture and you could still feel his fingers gently caressing your face. You had to close your eyes when the feeling of his lips, which you could still feel on yours, took your breath away. 

You pushed all feelings and thoughts aside and went to your shoes with wobbly knees. In your current state you would not be able to talk to Liv. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, to be honest. Except Yoongi. And finally get this mess sorted out. Fuck, you suppressed a sob when you realized that you wanted to run after him just to throw your arms around him and pull him into a hug. 

You grabbed your jacket and were already halfway out the door when your eyes fell on a business card that was lying on the dresser next to the front door. You closed the door again and walked the few steps to take a closer look at the card. 

CrazyInk was written in italic letters on the front. There was a tribal tattoo that took up the entire width of the business card and entwined the letters of the name. You turned the card around and your fears were confirmed. Underneath the squiggly name was written clearly: Your tattoo store for fine and fancy tattoos.

And what was even worse, was the date which was handwritten on the card. It was dated for the week after next, beside it was a time and you understood that it was an appointment. Liv had made an appointment with a tattoo artist to tattoo Yoongi’s name on her skin. And she had already saved the perfect template for it on her phone. 

Soo, that happened I guess. I’m aiming for probably nine or ten chapters for this story, just so you guys know!

I really hope you liked this chapter! As always, any kind of feedback is really appreciated. I’m happy about every comment or ask I get and I’m excited to hear what you think about this chapter and the story itself. I hope you’ll have a great rest of the week, see you soon! 💜

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Tag list:

@loveyoongles @missseoulite @mymainaccountlol @stillcopingxx @boywithtofucheekies @betysotelo18 @wrecklesseuphoria @welcometothecity @teresaisla @kaheryn @forever-once-gone @deathkat657 @daisybutterlions @ilillyshadow @purplelady85 @kelitt​

The Thief of Joy

This was requested by @emmaloo21 like a hundred years ago.

"Hey," you heard a whisper from around the corner from where you were definitely not hiding, and then Peter's golden head peeked at you from the other side of the shelf of books in the library. 

You hurried to dash away your tears, but Peter had two younger sisters and could see the signs of crying well enough. "Oh, darling, don't cry," he soothed, sitting next to you and pulling you into his arms, your head going naturally into the crook of his neck. 

"I am not crying," you said, though Peter could feel the dampness of your cheek against his neck.

"Shhh," he shushed you. "It will be alright, I promise."

"Of course it will," you said, pulling back a bit and forcing a smile to your face. "You're here."

Peter smiled at you with genuine affection. You had fallen into his family so naturally that it felt like you were another sister most of the time. "Tell me what has you sad and I'll fix it straightaway."

You chuckled. "Just having you here is enough."

"Darling, you know I'll always be here for you, don't you?" Peter crooned to you as he rocked back and forth. 

"Of course, Peter. I never feel so safe as when I'm with you," you said honestly, if a bit sadly.

Caspian sighed silently, heart shattering a little more as he witnessed what he had suspected for some time: you loved Peter.

And who could blame you? He was young, handsome, courageous -- well, aside from 'young' he was everything that Caspian wasn't and probably never would be. And Caspian could accept all of it from everyone  but you. You were his life. You had been inseparable until his escape; most of his people assumed the two of you would marry one day; he had assumed that the two of you would marry one day.

Caspian left as quietly as he had entered; he had known you were upset and he knew where you would go to be alone. He just didn't realize that Peter was also aware of the spot. Was it now a secret lovers spot? 

As Caspian made his way silently out of the library, he wandered the corridors aimlessly, his only destination somewhere quiet and empty. He feared that his heartbreak was going to become a bit of an embarrassing affair and he preferred to kick the wall and throw his childish tantrum with no witnesses.

Peter. Always Bloody High King Peter the Bloody Magnificent! He took over command, bowled over any decision that Caspian ever made, he insulted him and acted like Caspian was a complete incompetent. And if that wasn't enough, he now was romancing the girl he had loved for as long as he could remember, the woman he had always hoped to make his Queen. More than that, though, you were his best friend, he needed you in the way that he had always thought you needed him. 

Apparently he had been mistaken. Now you had Peter to run to when you were upset.

You had calmed down, focusing on Peter's soothing voice as he told you about something called automobiles in his home world. 

"Feeling better now?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," you whispered. "Thank you."

"How about you tell me what's been troubling you, then?" he coaxed.

"It's nothing, really. I'm being silly."

"I shall decide what's silly and what isn't," Peter announced arrogantly.

You smiled, though his arrogance was a trifle annoying. Caspian was never -- you sighed, unable to complete a thought without him interfering. 

"Come, now," he said sternly. "I am a King of Narnia; you must tell me."

"I missed Caspian terribly when he was gone."

"He spoke of you a great deal while we were in hiding. I understood you to be quite good friends."

"Yes," you said, not realizing that you wrinkled your nose a bit when he said 'friends.' "It just does not feel like he missed me as much. He seems to want to spend all of his time with your sister."

Ah, Peter thought. She loves Caspian. "Lucy and he do seem to be together a lot."

"No, Peter, I meant Susan."

Peter hesitated a moment and said, "Shall I tell you a secret?"

"If you wish," you replied rather disinterestedly. You were too busy picturing your old age as a spinster, dying alone for the overwhelming love you felt for your King.

"Susan thinks Caspian is beautiful."

Your eyebrows drew together in anger. "Thank you so much for sharing that with me, Your Majesty."

"So beautiful, in fact, that he could wear one of her dresses and be prettier than her."

You gasped, scandalized and amused. "She did not say this!"

"Perhaps not in so many words, but dear one, Susan and Ed and Lucy and I...we're old. Caspian is a boy. Susan is not interested."

You smiled then, but ruefully. "It does not mean that Caspian wants me because Susan does not want him."

"Then more fool he, I say!" he said buoyantly. 

"Thank you, Peter," you said quietly.

"Of course," he said gently. "I must go, but do not tarry here too long, it will be supper time soon."

"Yes, Peter," you said quietly, smiling bravely for his efforts to cheer you.

You watched Peter leave and sighed. You were selfish enough to be pleased that Susan wasn't interested in Caspian, but as you had said to Peter, Susan not wanting Caspian did not make Caspian want you. There was an old saying that your Mother told you when you coveted a sibling's toy or sweet: 'Envy is the thief of joy.' You knew that it was wrong to be jealous that Susan held Caspian's heart, but you simply could not help yourself.

You sat and stared out the window at the late afternoon sun painting the courtyard below with a golden shimmer, pondering how to go on without Caspian in your life. 

Caspian had retreated to his bedchamber, wanting to be alone for a moment. Well, physically alone. Since he had been crowned King, he had felt nothing but alone and lonely. 

Before he had run away, you and he had been together whenever possible. You had taken lessons together -- and skived off of lessons together, as well. He had shared with you his worries of ruling a Kingdom someday, and you had simply smiled and told him he would be a wonderful King. Now, you barely met his eyes, leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Perhaps you knew of his feelings for you and were trying to keep him from humiliating himself? You were always so kind and generous to him, giving him perhaps the only affection he received since his mother died when he was small. How had he so badly misinterpreted your actions to mean you loved him as he loved you? 

Or had you been plying him with honeyed words to become his Queen but decided that Peter was a better catch?

Caspian's jealousy ate at him as he paced his bed chamber, thinking back to all of the times he thought he had seen love in your eyes. Was it only a reflection of his own love, and not a genuine emotion at all? Were you simply smarter than the other girls at Court who had sought to snare him with their beauty and wiles? Had you seen the desperate need for love that he carried within him and exploited it?

He had to know.

Caspian gathered his jealousy, anger, and outrage close to him, wrapping himself in coldness to stave off the hurt. He stormed out of his bedchamber, his expression clouded with the anger and anguish that had taken root in his heart. 

A few people tried to stop him on his way back to the library; he did not even acknowledge them. He was so focused on getting the truth from you that nothing else mattered. Indeed, for just this one moment in time, the Kingdom could burn.

Caspian would find out how you really felt, and Aslan help anyone who tried to stop him.

You heard someone come into the library, low voices conversing, and then someone left again. You went back to staring out into the courtyard below, wishing that you had been brave enough to share your feelings with Caspian before he had run away to escape his Uncle. Would it have mattered to him, knowing that you loved him and were waiting for him to return safely? You sniffed, too depressed to even wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

You shook your head and muttered, "If wishes were fishes --"

"We'd all swim in riches," Caspian surprised you by finishing the rhyme.

"Cas -- Your Majesty!" you gasped, jumping to your feet and dropping into a deep curtsy. "You surprised me."

Caspian narrowed his eyes angrily. "You cannot even bring yourself to use my name any more?" he growled.

You looked up, tears streaming down your cheeks, confusion in your eyes. "I was not certain I still had that privilege."

"Rise," he said harshly. "I do not wish to have you cowering before me."

You got to your feet, hands folded primly before you and eyes on Caspian's toes, but you kept your silence.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, softening a bit.

You shrugged. "I do not wish to burden you with my worries," you whispered.

Caspian stiffened. "Did Peter not return your feelings?" he spat.

Your eyebrows shot up. "I beg your pardon?" you said, deceptively softly. 

Caspian should have known better; he had known you for most of his life and he had seen both the storm and the calm before it. He was simply too angry to recognize your tone of voice. "I said," he snarled, "did High King Peter not return your love? Did your plan to catch a better husband than me, a mere King, fall apart? Do you regret tossing aside my feelings for you in favor of Peter?"

You finally understood the expression "to see red." Your fists clenched at your sides and you gnashed your teeth. "How dare you speak to me that way, Caspian!"

"I saw the two of you together earlier, sitting in that very spot!" he yelled. "He had his arm around you and you put your head on his shoulder, sweet as could be!"

You shook your head angrily. "He was comforting me because I am in love with a very stupid boy whom I thought was in love with High Queen Susan," you said in disgust.

"I have loved you since I was twelve, Caspian! I was crying because you spend all of your time with Susan and cannot even be bothered to speak to me, and you accuse me of being a faithless trollop for my pains? Well, fear no longer, for I do believe I am over my feelings for you!

"I cannot believe I have wasted so much of my life loving you. And you tell me now that there were feelings to toss aside, as you accuse me of currying favor with Peter because he has a higher rank? Well, congratulations on finally telling me you once cared for me while you essentially called me a whore," you sneered with anger and distaste. "But I suppose that is acceptable behavior for a King. I do hope it was worth it, Your Majesty." You gathered your skirts in hand and swept away from him and out of the library.

Caspian stood in stunned silence, unable to fathom the tremendous insult he had just given you out of jealousy and stupidity.

You loved him. 

You loved him, and he had crushed that love under his boot heel for the sake of his cowardice and envy.

Caspian dropped to his knees, head in hands in grief and self-loathing.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, then got to his feet and steadied himself; he needed to figure out what to do.

You were in your bed chamber among the suite of rooms your family had in the castle. You were crying quietly lest you alert your parents of your fight with the King. Your Father had supported Caspian and even been thrown in a cell when Caspian had escaped; you did not wish to sow discord between them. 

How could Caspian accuse you of such low behavior? And even if you were casting your nets for Peter, what business of Caspian's was it? He had never made any declarations, never even insinuated that he was interested in you romantically, or even politically. What about his behavior, either before or after he had run away, should have conveyed his intentions?

You were not wrong in this, and if it meant your exile from Court...well, perhaps you could do with a visit to your grandparents, at that.

You called your maid in and asked her to begin packing your things while you went to convince your parents that some time in the country would do you a world of good.

Caspian was more nervous than he had been even before his coronation. He was about to serve penance before attempting to apologize, but even though he had mentally prepared himself, his heart raced and he had broken into a cold sweat.

His hand shook when he raised it to knock.

The door opened quickly, thrown wide by Queen Lucy exuberantly, as she was with all things. 

"Caspian!" she shrieked happily, leaping into his arms as if she hadn't seen him for months rather than the few hours since the morning meal. 

Caspian hugged her back, always touched to be worthy of this kind soul's affection. "Hello, sweet one. And what have you been up to today?" he asked, trying to hide the true purpose of his visit from this angelic child.

It didn't work, of course. Lucy might be the youngest of the Pevensie family, but one must keep in mind that they had lived entire lives in the past; this adorable, chubby-cheeked little girl was over a millennium older than Caspian.

"What troubles you, Caspian?" she asked kindly, pulling him over to sit.

"I need to speak with Peter, actually," he said quietly. "Do you know where he is?"

"I believe he went to visit your future Queen," she said mischievously. 

"Hush," Caspian said automatically. Lucy had divined his feelings for you while they were still hiding from Miraz and took every opportunity to discreetly tease him.

"Tell me what is wrong, Caspian. Are we not friends?"

He looked down at his boots. "I behaved very badly," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "I do not believe that I can undo this mess I have created. I think it rather more likely that her father or your brother will call me out."

Lucy sat up straight, concern drawing her features into an uncustomary frown. "What have you done that is so bad?"

Caspian took a deep breath and looked down into his hands that were clenched into fists in his lap. "I was almost mad with jealousy! I...I accused her of trying to ensnare Peter with her wiles so that she would have a High king rather than just a King. She took that to mean I was calling her a -- a person of low morals."

"Goodness," she breathed. 

"Yes, and she was livid, as she absolutely should have been. I imagine she's told her father or Peter by now. I would not be surprised if one or both of them are sharpening swords as we speak," he said dully. "I am worthy of neither my crown nor her love. And I know that I should be more concerned over failing my country, but right now all I can feel is bereft at the loss of the girl I have always loved."

"This is bad, Caspian," Lucy whispered. 

Edmund strolled into the room just then, so Caspian and Lucy stopped talking.

He looked at them and said, "Well, that wasn't suspicious at all! Were you talking about me?"

"No, Ed," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes. "I do have an errand I need to run, though. Be a good sport and keep Caspian company, would you?" she asked as she got to her feet.

"Lucy," Caspian began in a warning tone, getting to his feet as well. "Where are you going?"

"I say, Caspian, if she isn't safe here then she isn't safe anywhere," Edmund said jovially. "Fancy some exercise? You said you'd show me that move where you change hands with your sword while you spin away from your opponent."

"Excellent," said Lucy as if the matter was settled. "You two go and play." I have work to do.

Normally, Lucy would go to the library or the sitting room where the six of you could usually be found of an evening, but Caspian had confided that your row with him had taken place in the library, so she headed to your family's apartments, knocking politely.

The maid who opened the door immediately dropped into a deep curtsy, then led Lucy to the sitting room and scampered off to alert you of her presence and then to prepare a tea tray.

"Lucy," you said warmly. "I was not expecting you, what a lovely surprise."

Lucy pulled you into a hug. "Are you well?" she asked quietly.

"Of course!" you lied, knowing that your red eyes and runny nose told a different tale. 

You both smiled politely while your maid brought in a tea tray. "Shall I pour, Miss, or would you rather I continue packing your things?"

Lucy raised her eyebrows at you wordlessly. 

"I'll pour, thank you," you said quietly, avoiding Lucy's eyes by busying yourself with the tea and biscuits. "One lump, yes?"

"Yes, thank you," Lucy said politely, accepting the cup and taking a small sip. "And would you prefer to give Caspian one lump or two on his thick skull?"

You looked up quickly from your own tea, then nodded acceptance. "Of course he came to you," you said with a dry chuckle. "I am so very angry with him, Lucy."

"And it sounds like you have every right to be. What a complete idiot!"

Your eyes opened wide in surprise, for you would ever expect Lucy to try to broker peace and support Caspian. "Quite so," you agreed quietly, surprisedly.

"I cannot believe how cruel and selfish he was with you," Lucy went on. "I rushed straight over to see you. I know how much you loved him, it must have been such a disappointment to find out how wrong we all were about his character!" Lucy internally crossed her fingers, hoping that she was taking the correct tack with you and that attacking Caspian would lead you to defend him.

Your eyebrows furrowed at Lucy's words. "Perhaps that is not entirely accurate," you said hesitantly. 

"How could we interpret his actions any other way? He besmirched both your honor and Peter's! Just because he says he was mad with jealousy," she said, emphasizing the 'mad with jealousy' bit in a disbelieving way yet loud enough that you could not possibly miss it.

"You do not think he was jealous?" you asked, insecurity showing in your expression so clearly that Lucy almost felt bad.

"Oh, yes, he was positively raving! Never seen a fellow so head over heels for a girl. But he's a King; just because he has always loved you and wants you to be his Queen, that doesn't mean that he can lose control of his emotions like that."

"But he is not just a King, Lucy! He is also a man. Of course he will make mistakes! We cannot burden him with expectations of perfection!" you defended him.

"Well, now that he has insulted you so greatly that you couldn't possibly forgive him, I'm afraid he'll be stuck with some political match and wind up in a cold, loveless marriage. He probably won't have anyone to allow him to be just Caspian; they will all expect the Perfect King Caspian at all times." She sighed sadly. "Unless he does something truly reckless and gets himself killed or abdicates."

"No, he will not," you said angrily as you surged to your feet. "Not if I have anything to say about it. Where is he?"

Lucy struggled to keep her smug satisfaction to herself. "I believe he is having Edmund pummel away some of his guilt in the training yard."

You turned away without another word, caring not at all whether Lucy accompanied you or not. Lucy did follow along, of course. She had orchestrated this peace, she was absolutely not going to miss it.

As you grew near the training yard, you heard the clanking of metal weapons clashing alongside the whomping sounds of wooden weapons being used for training. 

When you arrived, it still took you by surprise that Caspian had recruited Narnians to work alongside Telmarines in the army as well as his personal guard. The training arena had been expanded to accommodate the increase in numbers of guards, not to mention the size of some of the newer members. 

Of course Caspian would go out of his way to treat the Narnians with fairness and respect. He was simply a good man.

You found Caspian and Edmund on the far side of the arena, pounding away at each other with metal training swords and shields. You watched for a while, proud of how adept he was with a weapon. His movement was smooth and fluid and you found yourself watching him with the same dull expression as all of the other unwed girls lining the fence to watch the two handsome men train.

You were able to forget for a moment that you were angry with Caspian -- well, miffed, really. He had always been graceful and quick with his weapons, but he had been coltish still when he left. He had returned with broader shoulders and far more muscular. He had gained strength and reach and lost none of his quickness and agility. He was truly a formidable fighter and you were proud to think that perhaps if his apology was very very good, he just might still be your husband one day soon.

You giggled to think that you had even considered leaving his presence. It was ridiculous to think that now you knew he felt the same, why in the world would you go away? As close to Caspian as possible was where you wanted to be for the rest of your life, and after you had given him a suitable opportunity to grovel for forgiveness, you planned to inform him that there was a wedding to plan.

Caspian heard the melodious giggle that always made him smile and immediately looked around until he saw you, leaning against the fence and smiling dreamily. He certainly -- CLANG!!!

"Caspian!" you shrieked as you clambered over the fence and hurried over to his side. He was down on one knee, dented helmet off and laying in the dirt at his feet while he tried to shake the ringing out of his ears.

Edmund was livid. "I could have killed you, Caspian! How dare you take to the training field this distracted," he raged at Caspian before turning his wrath on you. "And you! Do you not know better than to distract a man while he trains? I've got a mind to turn you over my knee!"

Caspian surged to his feet, still a bit dizzy but not so woozy as to allow Edmund to berate you in front of half the inhabitants of the castle. "That is enough, Ed," he said quietly. 

You reached Caspian and took his face in your hands. "Are you well, my love?" you whispered as you looked into his eyes, trying to see if his pupils were normal. 

Caspian threw his gauntlets to the ground and covered your hands with his. "Did you just call me your love?" he whispered back. 

"I did. You are," you said with a smile. 

"Then I am more than well," he said with a grin that lasted only a moment. He took your hands in his and pulled them away from his face and dropped back to one knee. "I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am, dearest. I was jealous and stupid and do not deserve you."

You tugged at his hands, trying to pull him to his feet. "I forgive you, of course! Now stand up, everyone is staring!"

"Not just yet, I have more business to conduct on one knee," he said with a happy smile. 

You smiled back. "Oh, indeed? Checking soil quality? Collecting rents from worms?"

"Silly girl," he chided playfully. "No, I thought since I was already down here I would check to see if you had plans for the rest of your life?"

You pursed your lips and looked up as if giving his question deep consideration. "Hmmmm let me think," you hummed. "I suppose I could make time for the right activities."

Caspian grinned at your sass, then said earnestly, "You have been my best friend and favorite person for as long as I can recall. You have supported me, counselled me and comforted me over those years of friendship, and I am so grateful to you for that. As we grew up together, my feelings of platonic love for you grew and evolved into very, very romantic love. I would spend every day of my life with you, showing you how much I love and appreciate you. Will you do me the very great honor of being my wife and Narnia's Queen?"

You had felt yourself melt as Caspian spoke until you were amazed that you were able to remain upright. "I would be honored to be your wife, Caspian. It is all I have ever wanted. I love you so very much, my darling."

Caspian jumped to his feet and pulled you to him with a think against his armor, but you didn't mind at all. He whispered, "I love you," as he leaned down to gently kiss you. 

You slid your hands up Caspian's chest to wrap them around his neck and kissed him again. When you broke apart and opened your eyes, Caspian's were still closed, but he had such a look of bliss on his face that you knew that this was right.

"Judging from the silly look on your face, perhaps we should have a healer evaluate your head before I hold you to your proposal?" you teased gently.

Caspian opened his eyes and smiled happily, overwhelmed with joy. "No, my love, I was just savoring the moment."

"Come. I still want you to see a doctor," you said, pulling him along. "Oh, and we must name our first daughter Lucy."

@marauder--harder / @giggleberts / @thesandbeneathmytoes  / @banditthewriter / @heyitslexy  /  @marauderskeeper / @squidscottjeans  / @russosprettydiamondnow / @iamnotbenbarneswifeyet /  @cutie-bug / @joelynnp / @sssilverssserpent / @acciophoenx / @presstocontinue-blog1 / @suchatinyinfinity /  @fortisfiliae / @chibiyanai  / @i-padfootblack-things / @rousakousa / @ponycake27 / @hermionegranger  / @drinix  / @something-tofightfor / @life-is-a-melody / @libbymouse   / @letsdanceinthedark/ @lilywoood / @ivegotillegalsinmybottom / @irinazatyk / @thinemineours / @ssserpensortiaaa / @starless-skyox / @lalafral / @hxbbit / @itsjustmylifeconfessions / @buddha-for-satan / @youveseen--thebutcher / @swiftyhowlz  / @shinebrightlikeafanbase / @moonyscardigans / @iaintnofurry / @heytherecix / @ladyblablabla / @damalseer / @sstilinski  @ymariejp / @projectcampbell / @agent-scully-182 / @saralou23​ / @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ / @ethereal-heavcns​ / @songtoyou​/ @morriganwarrior​ / @training-wheeels​ / @breanime​ /  @poedamneronhoe​ / @dylanobrusso​ / @0-cries-0​ / @my-little-dumpster-fire​ / @shadowhunterscloset​  / @disengagefrmreality​ / @curlyhairedblueeyedangel​ / @editboutique​ / @traeumerinwitzhelden / @ripsithskywalkers​ / @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ / @thesumofmychoices​ / @propertyofpoeandbucky​ / @whovianayesha​ /  @weallhaveadestiny​ / @saltyshaggymeme​ / @daffodilsbucky​ / @abroadcastofthemind​ / @with1love1anu / @onebatch--twobatch​ / @a-dorky-book-keeper​ / 

secret child pt.3

part 1 | part 2

uwu, let’s fangirl at how much hibiki is a momma’s boy and how much he loves youu

i had a vision for this and my writing followed in a squiggly line

Another day, another training session with the water pillar, Tomioka Giyuu—also known as his “dad”. 

Tomioka had taken him a few minutes away from home to an open field where the two could train better. Sighing to himself, Hibiki sat on an empty tree stump that hid him from the sun as he thought back to the conversation he had with his mom the other night. 

“Mom, you’re beginning to fall in love with Tomioka.” Hibiki suddenly states as he watched your eyes widen. Words tried to fall from your mouth, but Hibiki could only manage a sigh.

“And I think Tomioka is falling in love with you too.” Hibiki finished off, setting the now dried plate aside. 

You watched quietly as Hibiki continued to store the plates away. You hadn’t realized what was happening until Hibiki had confronted you and as much as you wanted to deny his words, it was the truth. 

“Does that make you upset, Hibiki?” you asked quietly, Hibiki turning to glance over at you before averting them back onto the plate in his hands. 

Even from the side of his face, you could see the conflicting emotions running through him. 

“A bit,” he confessed before placing his dish on the table, turning over towards you. “I just don’t understand, mom. How could you still love him after everything he’s done to us? To you!” Hibiki cried, his hands thrown out infront of him as you watched him getting frustrated. 

He never liked even the thought of Tomioka. 

“I want you to be happy, mom. But Tomioka doesn’t deserve to come back into our lives after these 15 years without him. How could you let him in so easily?” Hibiki’s eyes burned angrily towards you, but you knew he only wanted the best for you.

“Hibiki-” before you could finish your sentence, Tomioka had walked back in, cutting the conversation short, and also leaving a slight tension between the two of you.

Staring at the male a few feet ahead of him, Hibiki frowned at the sight of him. Who does he think he is? Trying to wedge himself back into the family when he has done nothing but harm.

“Hibiki, time to get started,” Tomioka shouted from under the sun before Hibiki let out a groan before jogging over towards the male. 

Standing in front of the man, Hibiki’s thoughts ran back to the fact that Tomioka was trying to woo his mother—after everything he had done to her. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘What a loser,’ Hibiki thought, glancing away. 

“Is something bothering you?” Tomioka asked, a raised brow as he studied Hibiki’s frown. “It’s nothing, let’s just get started,” Hibiki grumbled, trying to stay polite to the man training him. Though he wanted nothing more to do with Tomioka, Hibiki respected him as his student, and because you wanted him to be nice or you would get mad. 

“I don’t want to train you with your emotions in the way,” Tomioka informed flatly, causing Hibiki’s eye to twitch. 

“If you really wanna know why, I’ll tell you why. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t want anything to do with you outside of training, so stop trying to come into my life. Especially my mom’s,” Hibiki confessed angrily as Tomioka watched him unphased. 

Ever since Tomioka had met Hibiki, he could tell the child had a dislike towards him—mainly because Hibiki had fought him during their first encounter. 

“You’re always trying to be all sweet with her by buying her gifts and all, and while she might appreciate it, know that I’ll be here to make sure that you will never come back into the family,” Tomioka glanced at the younger male with a raised brow; he sure knew how to choose his words. 

“Oh, so are you upset at me?” Tomioka questioned, already aware of the young man’s answer, but decided to push him a little. 

“Don’t act stupid,” Hibiki responded as he quickly grabbed the wooden sword from the ground beside him, but Tomioka reacted just as fast, a wooden sword in his own hands, blocking Hibiki’s attack. “I’m going to make sure my mom will never fall into your hands again.”

Hibiki was fast with his sword and made significant attacks, Tomioka observed but found that whenever Hibiki was frustrated and angry, it left him with a lot of openings.

Tomioka swung his sword with such power he knocked Hibiki back. Though Hibiki wasn’t the greatest swordsman, he was undoubtedly a lot better with his fists. With a swing, Hibiki landed a hit on Tomioka’s cheek, causing the older man to stumble backward, his cheek reddening.

“She loved you while you threw her out and left her struggling to live with your child,” Hibiki’s anger caused him to throw another punch, but Tomioka was faster and dodged the young male with a step.

Tomioka continued to side-step and dodge the younger male’s attacks, “Hibiki, I’m not going to fight you over this,” but Hibiki was quick as he grabbed Tomioka’s uniform top, pulling Tomioka towards him. 

“Did you know she had to starve herself in order to provide for me? How desperate she was to find a job in order to keep me alive? To find a roof for me?” Hibiki shouted, voice cracking as tears filled his blue eyes. “Even after all these years, I can still remember her in the streets, begging for food, or change all for me to have a good life!” 

Hibiki retracted his hand before landing another solid punch on Tomioka, causing him to fall backward onto the hard ground as Hibiki hovered over him, but Tomioka accepted the hit with a heavy heart, Hibiki’s tears slipping down his cheeks onto Tomioka’s.

“My mom would cry herself to sleep every night after I fell asleep, while she awaited another difficult day. I didn’t have the slightest clue of the troubles we went through because she gave me everything she had in order to make sure I was happy,” Hibiki pulled on Tomioka’s uniform with a shaky breath.

“Did you know that? Did you know what you had done? And you think you can love her so easily as if you didn’t cause this?” Tomioka knew, but he also didn’t. 

“Hibiki, I’m sorry,” Tomioka whispered as Hibiki’s face became strained, “Sorry won’t change anything.” 

As each tear fell from Hibiki’s eyes and fell onto Tomioka’s cheeks, he watched as the strong, stubborn 15 year old cried his heart out because of the guilt he carried. 

Nothing was Hibiki’s fault, yet he carried the brunt of his mother’s hardship.

Before Hibiki could land another punch, Tomioka quickly grabbed the wooden sword beside him before landing a hit on the back oh Hibiki’s neck, causing the young man to pass out on his chest. 

With a sigh, Tomioka stood up before lifting the unconscious Hibiki onto his back as he departed back towards the house where you were waiting for their return. 

-

“Hibiki!” You cried as you ran over towards Tomioka, who had just arrived at your house. Placing a gentle hand on Hibiki’s forehead, Tomioka’s voice caught your attention, “He’s alright. We had a little spar that spiraled out of control,” 

You finally glanced over at Tomioka before hovering your hand over his cheek, “Your cheek! And your lip is busted! Don’t tell me Hibiki did this?” Your stern mom voice was coming out as Tomioka flashed you a small smile. 

“It’s my fault for pushing his buttons a bit,” Tomioka confessed as he walked into the house to lay Hibiki down on his futon before the two of you sat in the tatami room quietly together. 

“What caused this?” you questioned as you leaned over to clean the cut on his lip. Tomioka’s blue eyes observed you before glancing away with a sigh. 

“Hibiki told me about what happened after that day,” your hand retracted back towards you as you sat there with a saddened expression. “Oh,” was all you could manage as you set your small medical kit aside. 

“I understand that it was wrong of me, but would it be wrong of me to want to love you now?” his question was full of honesty and though you weren’t expecting it to come from his mouth, you weren’t shocked to hear. 

“Giyuu,” you started with a sigh. “As much as I’d love to try to have a real relationship with you, I don’t think I can, not yet,” you confessed, looking down at your hands. 

“Not just because Hibiki isn’t too fond of you, but because of what had happened. I can’t let you come right in just after a week of spending some sort of time with each other after these hard 15 years.”

Tomioka nodded, “I understand.”

You gave a small smile, “Well, how much did Hibiki tell you? I swear, that boy doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” you joke and it earns you a small chuckle from the male. 

“He told me how hard you worked to provide for him.” Tomioka started with a soft smile, “He told me that you gave him a great childhood even though he knew you struggled to get by.” 

You glanced back down, embarrassed of what Hibiki could have exposed, “That’s just what mom’s do for their children,” you chuckle. 

“Even after 15 years, you’re still just as lovely as ever,” Tomioka confessed out of the blue, causing your cheeks to heat up, but just as quickly as the rose blush dusted your cheeks did they vanish as your locked gaze on him harden. 

“Giyuu,” your sweet voice filled the air before your words came crashing down on him, “why did you throw me out?” 

The sudden question made his eyes widen, a bold question indeed. Recollecting himself, Giyuu continued to hold your gaze. “I didn’t want that life. To have a child, be responsible for anything—for you or for our child, especially because you were just there for my pleasure.” 

Your brows arched sadly and although you had suspected this answer, it hurt coming from the man himself. 

Before you could reply, Tomioka quickly cut you off, “but I missed a big part of what could have been my life when I threw the two of you out.” Tomioka placed his hands in front of him before bowing to you, “I’m sorry for what I have done to you and Hibiki,” 

“Giyuu, please, raise your head,” you scrambled as you reach over to lift him from the ground. When he finally sat back, tears filled your eyes as you stared into the blue ones that matched Hibiki’s. 

Leaning over, you wrap your arms around the male with a single sob, “I wish you could have been apart of our lives.” Tomioka’s arms slowly wrapped around you as well as the two of you held each other in the silence, reminiscing on what could have been your life together. 

“Hey, hands off my mom,” Hibiki’s sharp voice cut through the air as you jumped, quickly letting go of Tomioka to look at Hibiki. 

“Hibiki, you’re awake!” you cried in relief as you stood to your feet, squeezing you against him. “Are you hurt? Are you feeling okay?” you worry before Hibikisqueezes his way out of your arms. “I’m fine, mom,” Hibiki responds before his gaze focuses on Tomioka. 

“I heard everything,” he confesses, coming to sit down beside where you had sat. “Don’t act like your apology will solve everything. An apology can’t cure what 15 years of pain can do. My mom might be softer towards you, but it won’t be that easy,” Tomioka acknowledged Hibiki’s words. 

The child was smart and, more importantly, loved his mother more than anything. 

“But because my mom seems to love you so much and because I want to see her happy, I’ll do my best to treat you with more respect,” Hibiki gently bowed toward the male, before sending a glare, “but if you do anything wrong again, I won’t hesitate to jump on you-”

“Hibiki! You don’t need to say that!” you scold as Hibiki let out a playful smile towards you. Rolling your eyes, you place a loud kiss on Hibiki’s forehead before he groans of disgust.

Tomioka watched with the softest smile. He knew it was going to take a while, but to be rewarded with such a loving family, he wouldn’t mind however long it took. 

the brother of house black: sirius and regulus angst

cw: mentions of abuse. again its angst read with caution

a/n: this was something i wrote months ago because i only know pain. so here share my pain. if you guys like this i have continuations written that i can post

"sirius," regulus cried in a hushed voice seizing his brother by the wrist. "just do as they ask, we both know its the only way."

sirius snapped his wrist from regulus' grip staring him down coldly

"you know better than anyone that i can no longer refrain from expressing my beliefs," he stated

regulus' lip quivered. he was terrified for his brother and what his parents would do when sirius finally pinched their last nerve

"if you do this, they will never forgive you. they will not hold back. they will treat you as if you were never their child, their heir." regulus attempting to sway his brothers mind

sirius shook his head pinching the bridge of his nose is frustration. "regulus you are the only member of this wretched house who has ever loved me, who i have ever loved."

"so then listen to me!" regulus cried stepping towards his brother

"no," sirius shot. "im sorry it has come to this but you gotta promise me something, alright?"

"fine," regulus huffed. he crossed his arms awaiting his brothers request. he was angry. he felt his heart ache. but he understood. and that was enough to continue to be a bystander to his brothers situation

"you will not interfere, no matter what they do." sirius replied at last. "you are not to throw yourself in the line of fire for me, okay?"

regulus nodded and agreed against his better judgement. "you have my word."

they stared at each other for a long moment. two brothers with two very different stories

sirius saw the pain deep within regulus' eyes. he thought he might cave. then he remembered orion and walburga. he remembered their cruel punishments and their awful beliefs. he remembered the first time he was hit with a torture curse; how he collapsed to his knees wincing in pain, a pain unlike any other he had ever felt before. so he blinked the thought of being their puppet away

he had imagined all his life what it would be like to finally confront his parents. what it would be like to run away. how freeing it would feel; how freedom would taste. how happy he would be to escape. but now as he stood minutes away from that reality it was nothing like he expected. he thought it would be easy and simple. he never imagined to have second thoughts or any sort of doubt

he had been wrong. he wished he had the courage to stay and continue to watch over regulus. he was at his own breaking point, however. if he stayed, it would kill him. he had to leave. he had to be selfish. he could only hope regulus would understand some day

regulus stared at his elder brother in complete and utter awe of his courage. never once had sirius backed down or begged for their parents mercy. he silently winced in pain whenever his parents used curses on him. i wish i had what you have, he thought. he could never be the brave man his brother had grown to be. but he could save himself. which was all sirius had ever wanted for him; to be a puppet until he could disappear into a kinder world

"come here" sirius mumbled opening his arms towards his baby brother

regulus embraced him as if it would be their last hug. if it was, he wanted to remember it. they squeezed each other tightly. almost tight enough to suffocate the other

sirius released his brother and pulled away keeping his hands on his shoulder

he gave him a stern look, "worry about saving yourself, okay? and ill worry about saving myself."

regulus nodded and watched his brother disappear shaking with fear of what was awaiting his brother in the library

while regulus waited in silence and agonizing worry sirius was making his way to his parents who resided in the library

"you called for me," sirius said stepping into the room

his parents sat on opposite ends of the ouch and stood as their eldest soon entered the room

"yes," orion said quite calmly

"come," walburga demanded waving him further into the library. "we have an important matter to discuss."

sirius nodded and took a seat in the leather chair across from the couch. its now or never, he thought to himself. he did his best to stay calm and composed. if his mother suspect the slightest suspicion from him surly she would read his mind. if that happened he stood no chance

"you are getting older, becoming a man," orion stated

"well spotted," sirius grinned. he had to keep them guessing

"quit it with the jokes young man," his mother hissed sitting up snappily

he nodded at her then turned his attention back to his father

"as you know the war is progressing quickly and this is happening sooner than we anticipated," his father explained

sirius grew warm as his nerves spiked. he thought he knew what this would be about but now he was not so sure. he felt as thought he was playing a game without knowing the rules

"i apologize, im sure you were not expecting this all so soon but," his father paused. if thee orion black was hesitating to speak, sirius knew this was far worse than anything he had anticipated

"you must take the mark at once," his father finally getting down to business

"what!" sirius blurted not intending to

"you heard your father," his mother replied sternly. "you are to take the mark as soon as possible. tomorrow morning to be exact."

sirius sank back in the chair. everything was blurry. his mind was racing, spinning actually. his heart was beating out of his chest or so he thought

this cannot be happening, i was supposed to have at least another year or so before this was asked of me

"well," his father pulling him back to the situation at hand

sirius stood up, "no"

"no?" his parents said in unison puzzled looks on both of their faces

"no," sirius repeated. "i will not"

"it was not a choice young man," his mother started

"it was a demand," his father finished

"and i said no," sirius held his ground

"i will not take the mark of a man who stands for beliefs i do not value let alone agree with. our blood does not make us any more worthy of a place in this world," sirius spat angrily

they stared at him mouths hanging open as if they were astonished by what he had said. were they really expecting anything else? sirius asked himself. they know i would never

"oh dont look so surprised. i was the black sheep of this family for the moment i came out of you. everyone knew it. i was never going to be your heir, your perfect son," he carried on

"you are no son of mine," orion stated standing up and pointing his wand at his son

"if i had any say in the matter, you would never have been my father," he turned to walburga. "and you would have never been my mother."

now walburga stood with her wand pointed at her son slowly inching closer to him

"how dare you disgrace this family. how dare you speak to us in such a way," she hissed like a snake, as her wand pressed into sirius throat so hard he thought shed draw blood

he gulped, suddenly aware he bit off more than he was able to chew at the moment. he should have kept his mouth shut and disappeared silently during the night

before he knew it both his parents had casted the cruciatus curse on him

he knew the feeling all too well. the pain coursing through him, making his knees weak, his body loosing control and unable to stop itself from causing harm

but this time he felt it could kill him. perhaps it was their anger enhancing the curse or simply the force of two curse combined, but for the first time sirius could not bit his tongue and silence his tears

he collapsed to his knees and let out a cry that rang through number twelve grimwald place. he sobbed for what felt like hours, swallowing his pride, and begging, not his parents, but something greater to finish him off

im better off dead he thought as he saw his parents laughing at their son, who finally cracked

Mine Now, One shot

Thanks for the prompt, had FAR too much fun with this one: I was wondering if you could write a one-shot in which Tom is a murderer who kills people that annoys him and has a therapist that only knows about his issues with controlling his *negative* emotions. She is scared of him and he is aware of it, though she tries not to show it. One day he invites her for dinner and tells her that he is going to confess something important. She can’t reject it because well… He’s nice to her and she kind of likes him. However, when he confesses the truth she freaks out and makes him angry… Smut in the end please! Would be wonderful if you can make her name Cer!

Warnings: rape/non-con

-

Cer was nervous about why one of her clients, Tom, had invited her round to dinner.

It was completely unprofessional to accept the offer, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive. But there was something about him that scared her.

He was rather intense. His focus was always on the person he was conversing with, eyes locked on their face. Gauging every little reaction in their face.

Tom was a troubled man, often telling her about he struggled to contain his emotions. Especially the negative ones. She shared some ways to try and help him to focus himself more.

He knew she was scared of him, but he appreciated and respected her for the way she tried to hide that fact. She was intelligent and he did enjoy speaking to her, spilling his troubles and whenever he felt himself spiralling out of control, he would go to her for advice and found he was always calmer after a session with her.

Cer arrived at Tom’s house in the evening, she had taken a taxi because she wasn’t sure whether alcohol would be on the cards or not. So she played it safe, just in-case there was some wine on the go.

The butterflies were awake in her stomach as she went up the path to his front door. It was a nice house, just as she had expected from Tom. He was a suave kind of guy, always wearing a nice suit when he came to see her and always carried himself in a confident and successful kind of way.

She didn’t even get the chance to ring the bell before Tom was at the door, smiling charmingly down at her. ‘Glad you could make it, Cer. Come in, come in.’ He stood to the side and motioned her in.

‘Thank you, Tom.’ Cer smiled and stepped into his home. The first thing she noticed was how clean the place was, and also how it smelled of him. Something that she rather liked about him, was his smell.

‘Let me take your coat.’ He said smoothly, hands already on her shoulders that made her jump very slightly.

‘Oh, thank you.’ She smiled.

Tom took her through to the dining room and poured them both some wine. He sat down opposite her after dishing up the started for them both.

‘So, what is it that you have to tell me?’ Cer asked, keen to know what it was.

His smile dropped a little and his eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at his plate. He then looked back up at her, making intense eye contact.

‘Do you promise you won’t freak out or judge me?’ He asked softly.

‘Of course not.’ Cer said. Thinking it would maybe be something such as he hit an animal by accident perhaps, or that he was into something really wrong sex wise, something he was feeling guilty about.

But she did not expect what the truth was…

‘I… am a murderer. The murders in the city these last few years, with no suspect. It’s me.’ He said boldly, watching her closely.

Cer was stunned at first, taking a moment to process what he had just told her. Tom watched her features, noting how she didn’t blink at all for a moment, then she closed her eyes and opened them again in disbelief. She leaned backwards and Tom noticed her breathing starting to quicken, she was swallowing hard too.

‘You said you wouldn’t freak out or judge me.’ Tom said sternly, frowning.

She was shaken that he was so attentive of her reaction. Scared to the very core…

‘Tom… I… Murder is… This isn’t good.’ She said shakily as she cautiously stood up. Tom just continued to watch her. ‘I… Better go.’ She said quickly and then rushed out of the room, straight for the door.

Tom followed her calmly, but his jaw was clenched as he closed in behind her. She had just gotten the door open, but a hand shot out from behind her and slammed it shut. He was directly behind her, she could feel his breath against the back of her neck.

‘You said you wouldn’t judge me! I trusted you, Cer.’ He growled angrily, watching her shaking as she turned around, back against the door.

‘Please… Tom. Let me go.’ She pleaded.

Tom looked furious as he took another step towards her, his free hand went to her neck and pinned her further against the door. She cried out and grabbed at his forearm, trying to pull him off but he was too strong for her.

‘YOU SAID I COULD TRUST YOU!’ He roared at her.

She genuinely feared for her life in that moment, until he suddenly crashed his lips upon hers roughly. His tongue forced its way into her mouth as he swallowed her moans and whimpers of fear.

Instead of fearing for her life, she now feared over something else as he ripped at her blouse, buttons scattered all over the floor. He didn’t stop there. Tearing at her skirt and underwear, all while shoving his tongue down her throat like he was trying to devour her.

And she was completely helpless against the murderer’s strength.

‘Stop! Please! Tom!’ She gasped when he finally stopped kissing her, but the big grin on his face was enough of an answer for her.

She cried out when he grabbed her hands and held them up above her in one hand, his other delved between her thighs and he growled as he slid his fingers easily through her folds, soon seeking out her clit and toying with it, rolling it between his fingers.

‘No… no…’ She whined, closing her eyes to try and focus on something else, imagining she was anywhere else.

Tom buried his face into her neck and breathed in deep as he continued fingering her, slipping a finger into her cunt when she was wet enough. He suckled on her skin before adding a second finger, curling them against her g spot and forcing another whimper from her.

‘You’re wet, pet. Don’t say you’re not enjoying this.’ He growled. ‘You hurt my feelings, Cer. I told you my deepest secret, something I haven’t shared with anyone else.’

He continued rubbing against that sweet spot within her while his thumb covered her clit, making her mewl.

‘Did you think I would hurt you? Hmm? I would never do that, Cer. You mean far too much to me.’ He spoke calmly now, while slowly stroking her inside and on her clit.

Cer wanted to fall for his charming talk, but she couldn’t ignore the fact he was a murderer. It all made so much sense now, when he came to speak to her. All the warnings signs were there, had she really not taken them in at all? Or had she just not wanted to believe it…

Tom removed his hand from between her thighs and let go of her wrists. She thought perhaps he was going to let her go, but it was wishful thinking. He grabbed her thighs and hiked them up around his waist, making her yelp as he pressed firmly against her, she couldn’t do anything but wrap her arms around his neck for more support. She could feel his bulge against her cunt, the buckle of his belt against her bare skin.

His nose against her cheek, he started to free himself while he kept her up against the door with his upper body. ‘I know you’re scared, Cer. But there’s no need to be.’ He pulled his cock out, she could feel his pre cum smearing against her inner thigh as he then lined himself up with her.

‘I will look after you, darling. Besides….’ He then pushed the tip against her, slowly breaching her. ‘If I was going to kill you, I’d have done it by now.’ He growled as he thrust sharply up into her, making her scream.

Tom snarled as he felt her clamping around him, getting used to the intrusion. She was so tight, so warm. He had fantasised about claiming her for such a long time now. And now, finally, he was inside of her.

He started fucking her hard against the door, and to Cer’s embarrassment she was enjoying it far too much. She had expected he would be good in the sex department… But not this good.

It didn’t take that long before he made her cum all over his cock, smirking smugly. ‘I look after what’s mine, Cer.’ He licked her neck and then nibbled her earlobe.

He thrust into her hard and stilled, to Cer’s horror she felt him cum inside of her. Marking her from the inside.

‘And you’re mine now.’

this is the place that they pull you to

A/N: I would say “my hand slipped” but this actually took me like a week to write xD

This is a post-season 2 episode 1 fic, so, here be spoilers! Basically I was talking to @dragonsthough101 about how I was expecting more emotional fallout on McCabe’s end from all of the conflict and tensions in episode 1 and the putdowns from Arkady, and while I’m sure we will get that in the podcast, it also occurred to me that I could... write that :D and thus *flourishes hands*

Title is taken from Wires by Savlonic, because I was listening to it and I realised it’s actually a very good song for RJ, both under the Regime and after. And now I earworm myself whenever I work on this fic xD

---

Once the door to RJ’s room on the Iris II has slid shut behind them and the red ‘lock’ light has engaged, they let out a shaky breath.

Then, only then, do they allow their lower lip to tremble.

RJ shuffles over to the bed – more like a cot really, but that’s long-haul space travel for you – and drops down onto it. Park’s words from earlier are looping inside their head. “I hope you’re right. But honestly, in this moment, McCabe? I’m glad we don’t have to find out.”

RJ lets out another shaky breath that’s closer to a sob, and blinks back the tears that are forming in their eyes. It doesn’t completely work, and a couple escape and track down their cheeks. RJ smears them away with the palm of their hand. “Get a grip, McCabe,” they mutter angrily to themself. Sure, they might be alone in their room right now, but they know better than to feel like it’s safe to relax or let go. Someone could be by any minute to check on them, or there might be a situation that requires all crew members to come to the mess hall, or the cockpit, and then how will RJ explain their red eyes and wrung-out demeanour?

It’s not safe to let their guard down. It hasn’t been for weeks. Even around Park, the one person on this vessel RJ knows they can trust, RJ feels – off-kilter, like they’re lagging a step behind everything. RJ is still trying to get used to not addressing him as “Agent”, to figure out what they can and can’t say now, to navigate their new relationship. As friends – but are they friends? Does Park even like RJ, outside of the context of them working together under the Republic?

It seems uncharitable to think, and RJ and Park had always had a good relationship as colleagues – they hadn’t been close, and Park had seemed pretty inscrutable to RJ at first, but then they’d got used to his way of working and communicating. Figured out how to make him crack a smile. Drawn some praise from him, even, and realised that underneath everything he was a caring person, and a good boss.

But RJ had also thought – been sure – that Park was loyal to the Republic, so how well did they really know him? Know this Park? And Park has been treating them… warily, especially these past few days. Not coldly or poorly, but a little bit at arm’s length. Like he isn’t sure what they might do. Like he doesn’t trust them, even though RJ trusts Park totally – to the point where they were willing to throw over their whole career, everything they’d worked so hard for, and follow him onto the Iris II.

Granted, they also hadn’t had a lot of other options at that time, but RJ still isn’t sure they would have made the same decision if Park hadn’t been there.

And yet here they both are, and Park is already a fixture in the cockpit, watching the controls when Tripat- when Sana or Krejjh needs a break, having apparently built up some experience as a co-pilot for long-haul transports after serving in the military (yet another thing that RJ didn’t know about him). And he’s comfortable enough with the crew to be on bantering terms with them, to suggest plans involving decommissioned government satellites. Whereas RJ…

“Cram it, McCabe!”

RJ’s lip trembles again, this time in earnest. And RJ would like to pretend that these are angry tears, or frustrated or indignant tears, but they’re really not. RJ wants to be angry, to stand their ground and fire back and give as good as they get and somehow manage to verbally earn the others’ respect; to be seen as a person instead of a suspect or a liability. But they’ve struck the wrong chord every time. RJ is sick of the awkward tension every time they’re in the room; sick of Arkady’s prickly snappishness and Sana’s increasingly weary peacemaking; sick of the unspoken communication between the crew that they can’t parse.

It doesn’t help to realise that the crew must have got practiced at that during the weeks they spent evading the IGR’s scrutiny before they made landing on New Jupiter. At least Park could say he hadn’t been there by that point. But McCabe had, headphones on, straining to parse something from every off-handed comment, every loaded silence.

Park wasn’t there because he was being tortured in Zone Z, McCabe thinks, and abruptly feels sick. Sick at the thought, and sick of themself for – not thinking, for even considering for a split second that Park might be somehow better off. After being imprisoned, cut off from his friends and family, tortured and maimed by a government he’d spent years of his life serving.

The same government that he believes RJ was thinking of selling them out to.

This realisation steals the breath from RJ’s lungs with a whoosh, and all of a sudden they don’t feel sick, or indignant, or hurt – they just feel cold.

RJ hadn’t been able to explain to Park in the moment exactly what they’d been thinking by withholding the information about the Fowleys being bugged and monitored (because of course they were). When the ‘offer’ from Jay Fowley had first come through, the crew hadn’t been desperate enough to seriously consider it, and by the time they were… well, they’d been on the verge of figuring things out anyway. And RJ had been feeling angry, and vindictive, and not in the mood to volunteer anything that would aid the crew; not when doing that had got them into this mess in the first place.

And maybe in the back of their mind, a voice had been whispering that they should keep their options open. It’s a voice that gets louder in the dark, when RJ is lying awake on their bunk, unable to sleep for replaying those moments in the corridor, the way that it felt like the ground was falling out from under them as Goodman denounced them and Park as defectors. It gets louder whenever RJ clashes with Arkady, whenever they catch uncertain glances from the other crew members, whenever RJ wanders the corridors of this godforsaken claustrophobic ship and realises that this is it now. This is their whole life.

But they never thought about how that might look to Park. It’s like in RJ’s head there are somehow two Republics: the one that would be capable of doing such horrible things to Park – to any person, much less one who hadn’t been demonstrably proven guilty – and the one that RJ had dedicated their career to serving, that they had believed was just and good and right.

RJ wants to find him and apologise, to try and explain, to share some of the fears and secret thoughts that have been curdling on the back of their tongue these past weeks.

But Park told them to get some rest, and RJ has enough awareness to realise that there’s a much higher chance of the conversation turning out well if they sleep a while first. So, reluctantly, RJ toes off their shoes and shrugs off their vest, and wriggles underneath the taut blanket attached to the bunk.

Either they’ve reached some kind of peace with themself or they’re more exhausted than they realised, because sleep overtakes them in minutes.

---

RJ is woken by a knocking at the door: light and tentative at first, and then firmer and louder. As always, it takes a moment for their brain to catch up with their surroundings: the hard bunk beneath them, followed by the bare walls of their room, still unadorned (RJ wasn’t exactly carrying any personal belongings when they fled CUI Headquarters, and the ship hadn’t made any stops since. Not that RJ knows what they would put in their room anyway. There hadn’t been much to leave behind on New Jupiter). RJ sits up and rubs an arm across their eyes, then goes to answer the door.

It’s Violet. RJ clamps down on the reflexive urge to say something like, ‘Did you draw the short straw?’, or maybe, ‘Did they send you to manage me?’ Violet doesn’t look like she’s here under duress, and to RJ’s memory, she’s not a particularly good actor.

“Hi,” they say instead.

“Hi,” Violet replies with a little smile. There’s always a weird dissonance – though RJ would never, ever bring this up – that comes from hearing the voices of the Rumor crew come out of the mouths of actual people instead of a recording. “How did you sleep?”

“Uh…” RJ thinks back, and is surprised to find that the answer is ‘well’. They actually feel… slightly refreshed. “Fine.” Belatedly, they tack on, “Thank you.”

“That’s good to hear.” Violet smiles again. She’s never been unfriendly to RJ, but these past several days, she’s seemed more on edge, more prone to sarcastic retorts, less willing to make peace between them and Patel- Arkady. RJ had believed that her patience was slowly fraying, that like the rest of the crew, she was only willing to put up with the new additions to the ship for a certain amount of time and that she’d stop pretending before long. But now, taking in Violet’s looser posture, the way some of the lines around her eyes and mouth have eased, RJ realises it had never had anything to do with them. Violet had been worried about the supplies. About her… medical emergency.

Speaking of supplies… “Did Park tell you what we wanted to add to the list?” RJ asks, figuring they’d better add a bit of verisimilitude to the excuse that Park had used to speak to RJ alone.

Violet’s smile widens. “He did. I definitely agree about replenishing our coffee supplies – though, I don’t know what kind of quality you’re used to, because I should warn you that the black market kind – the affordable black market kind, anyway – is pretty bad. We get non-freeze-dried coffee whenever we can, but out here…” Violet shrugs as if to say, ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’.

RJ manages to suppress a wince at the term “black market”. This is your life, now, RJ, they remind themself for the thousandth time. “That’s okay. The stuff in the IGR breakrooms was basically dreck. I can drink pretty much anything.” RJ is no coffee lover, but they drink it for the caffeine. Pretty much everyone in the Republic has a caffeine addiction or develops one at some point – no way to get through eighteen-hour shifts without it.

Violet chuckles a little. “It was always the same at my lab internships. I guess bad breakroom coffee is pretty universal.”

RJ recognises that she’s trying to bond with them by referencing shared experiences of working for the Republic. It’s not the first time she’s done it. But RJ still has trouble seeing their circumstances as equivalent.

Violet is – had been – a scientist, not an Agent; not one of the IGR’s most loyal, tasked with the defence of the Republic. She’d never had access to classified briefings; hadn’t dedicated her life to tracking down and apprehending insurgent forces. And given that the Rumor crew had deceived her into entering the cryo chamber, she could argue that she’d been duped – and had only co-operated in order to save her own life. Well, the argument would hold water up until Elion, anyway.

It wasn’t the same.

The silence hangs for a few moments, before RJ prompts her, “Did you want to… ask me something?”

“Sorry, yes – I came to tell you that dinner’s ready and uh, we’re about to eat in the mess hall if you’d like to join us.” Violet smiles again, with a touch of nervousness this time. No doubt she’s expecting a caustic brush-off.

“Is it veggie stew?” RJ can’t help asking, with a slight nose wrinkle. They’re expecting a rebuke from Violet, some kind of warning about being grateful for what they have, but instead she laughs.

“Unfortunately. On the bright side, though, it’s only for a couple more days and then we’ll be able to have actual flavourings again.”

RJ almost smiles, and is surprised when they catch themself. And – they were going to decline, make an excuse about continuing their nap, because they’re still feeling off-kilter and they doubt that Arkady will be thrilled to be spending time in close quarters with them so soon, but – they think about Park’s talk with them in the hallway. About how they’ve spent the past few weeks dodging any kind of connection with the rest of the crew, anything that will put them past, in RJ’s mind, the point of no return – and where exactly that’s got them.

“Sure,” says RJ. “Just let me, uh…”

They put a hand up to their hair, realising that it must be sticking up in all directions after their nap. Short hair is gratifyingly easy to take care of, but it sure does have interesting ideas about gravity.

“I have a comb you can borrow, if you need it?” Violet offers.

“It’s fine,” RJ declines automatically. “Park-”

They catch themself, wondering why it feels like such a concession to accept even this tiny piece of help from someone other than Park. They think about their bare room, empty of any personal possessions.

“I’m okay right now,” they say slowly. “But… is it too late to add something to the shopping list?”

Violet blinks, clearly surprised, and then smiles brightly. “Not at all.”

---

Five minutes later, hair tamed and clothes straightened, RJ makes their way towards the mess hall, which adjoins the kitchen. They haven’t spent much time in here so far – there’d been a couple of communal dinners at first, which quickly gave way to the reality of shifts ending at disparate times and the need to simply grab food however and whenever people could, something RJ had been grateful for.

Once, on their way to the kitchen, they’d walked in on Violet and Arkady having what looked like a picnic at the table in the centre of the room, just the two of them. That had been awkward for everyone. Since then, RJ has taken to finding their food and snacks at times when they know most of the crew are otherwise occupied.

Everyone else is already there and making more noise than you would think a group of six people could generate. Brian is in the kitchen, ladling bland servings of stew into the uniform polypropylene bowls that they’d found stacked inside the cupboards. Krejjh stands next to him, loudly enthusing about the virtues of the stew to anyone within earshot. Violet and Sana are waiting to be served, while Arkady – who has just been handed a full bowl by Brian – rolls her eyes and makes sarcastic comments as she carries it through to the mess hall. There, Park is sitting in one of the bolted-down chairs, watching the whole scene with a slightly raised eyebrow and waiting, if RJ had to guess, for the general hubbub to die down before he goes to get his food.

RJ pads over and slides into the chair on the same side as Park’s good eye. Park turns his head slightly, giving them a quick once-over, almost too brief to catch. “Hi,” he says quietly. “How was your nap?”

RJ hesitates over what to say. “It helped,” they reply. “Park, can we… talk? After dinner?”

The tiniest of frowns creases Park’s forehead. “Sure,” he says. “Everything all right?”

RJ nods, drumming their fingers on the tabletop and meeting Violet’s gaze as she comes over to sit next to Arkady, giving RJ a friendly smile. They don’t quite return it, but… it’s not as unwelcome as it would have been, before.

“Yeah,” they say to Park. “It’s fine.”

I Want A Baby

Rating: T

Pairing: Gruvia/Gray x Juvia

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fairy Tail.

Word Count: 2k

Title: I Want a Baby

Genre: one shot, fluff, domestic fluff, pregnant!Juvia

Summary: Several months after moving in together, Juvia has potential news, but she’s not sure how Gray will take it.

A/N: Tada! My first Gruvia fic. It finally happened. (This was originally supposed to continue into a smut fic, but I decided to end it early. If you’d like the continuation though, reply or send me an ask, and I’ll try to make it happen.)

ffn || ao3

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Juvia

I pat my neck with the towel again, dramatizing imaginary droplets of water after I washed my face. It’s stupid, I know. If he was paying the tiniest bit of attention, he’d immediately find it odd. Not only have I been drying my face for an abnormally long time already, I don’t even need to dry my face because I can just absorb the water into my body. I’m stuck. If I go to bed now, he might talk to me, and then I’ll have to lie to him, but if I keep stalling in here, he’ll eventually get suspicious. I don’t know what to do!

“Juvia?” His voice travels in from the bedroom.

Oh no. It sounds like he’s coming this way! What do I do?

I panic, dropping the towel and quickly splashing fresh water onto my cheeks from the still running faucet.

“Are you…washing your face?” He steps into the doorway, and I focus all of my energy on lathering my forehead instead of the reflection of his perfect abs in the mirror.

“Yes, my love!” I say through my fingers. “Just trying to keep my skin perfect for you.”

“But I thought you just washed…” He frowns and shakes his head. “Nevermind. I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, darling.”

“Turn the light off when you come in.”

He leaves, and I rush to wash the soap off, gasping when the water is cold.

“This is ridiculous,” I hiss to myself. “I don’t need tap water for this.”

Creating water with my hands, I rinse my face and pat it dry a second time with a fresh towel. After hanging both used towels up to dry, I turn off the bathroom light and tiptoe toward the bed, hoping Gray is already sleeping.

As I sit down on my side of the mattress, I feel a little bit guilty. Normally, I love being in bed with Gray before we fall asleep. We talk. We cuddle. And sometimes we…

No. Don’t think about that.

My brain gets all muddled when I think about the deliciously naughty things Gray and I do, and right now, I’m confused enough already.

Turning onto my side, I slide my legs under the sheets and turn to face the wall.

“Juvia.”

My heart skips a beat in the darkness of the room, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

What does he want? Maybe he’s talking in his sleep.

“Did you talk to Cana today?”

Oh no! He talked to Cana? She probably told him something! But she didn’t know what she knew when I asked her, so if she told him something it will only upset him!

“Juvia?”

Oh right. He asked me a question. Maybe if I don’t say anything, he’ll stop talking.

“I know you’re awake.”

He rolls toward me, and I stop breathing as the heat of his bare chest radiates into my back.

“Is something wrong?” he asks softly, and I suddenly feel like crying.

“N-no,” I choke out. “No, my love. Nothing is wrong. I’m just…tired.”

“Cana said something weird when I saw her today,” he goes on in that gentle voice that turns me into a puddle. “She said I needed to be careful with you.”

“What?” I stammer. “Why-why would she say that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

His fingers run down my bare arm, and my body shudders. I want him to touch me, but I also don’t. I dread what I need to tell him, but I also feel terrible about keeping it from him.

“Juvia, baby…”

“She told you there’s a baby?” I whip around so fast I almost smack into his forehead with mine.

“Whoa! What the hell?” he grimaces angrily. “I was only trying to—wait.”

I see his face go white. I’m not sure how since the room is black with night, but I do.

“Did you say…b-baby?”

Oh no! What have I done? I can’t take it back now! Unless…

“N-no,” I start shakily. “I said, um–”

My eyes dart around the room as I try to think of something.

This is bad. He’s going to know. But I don’t even know! What if he doesn’t want a baby now! Will he be angry? I don’t want to make Gray angry with me! I don’t think I can handle that on top of this!

“Juvia?”

I sit up and pull my knees into my chest, burying my face in my hands as tears build up in my eyes.

“Are you pregnant?” His voice is so hard and cold, like his demon slaying magic. I shiver and lick my lips.

“I don’t know,” I confess quietly.

“You don’t know?” he echoes. “Did you suspect? Were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know? I mean, one minute I’m about to go to sleep and the next there’s a freakin’ baby? What the hell?”

“I don’t know!” I shriek, whirling to face him.

“Hey, whoa.” His hand lands on my shoulder, but I shrug it off as I turn to face him.

“I just…” I take a deep breath and say everything in my head at once. “I’ve been feeling strange, and I’ve felt sick a few times, but my cycle is never on time, and I don’t know if that has to do with my body of water or something else, but I started thinking it might be a possibility.”

“I always wear a condom,” he pipes up. “Even that time in the tub, I–”

“I know,” I whisper as tears begin to slip onto my cheeks. “But…my entire body is water.”

“Condoms are waterproof.”

“Well, my water is magical!” I shout. “And anyway, condoms aren’t always effective. Or one could’ve broken, and I didn’t realize. And it doesn’t even matter because if I’m pregnant already…”

I start sobbing, and bury my face in my knees, using the blanket to dry my tears.

“Juvia…”

“Please, don’t be angry with me, Gray,” I choke. “I know this isn’t what you want, but I don’t know what else to do!”

“Juvia, calm down.”

“I tried to find out! I went to Porlyusica, but she wasn’t sure if she could diagnose me because, well, since my body is unique, she doesn’t know if the symptoms are the same or if everything will present itself the same way. And then I asked Cana if her cards said anything, but she didn’t have anything concrete. All she said was something big would be changing in our home, and now I’m terrified you’re going to leave–Ah!”

He grabs me without warning, his hands sliding around me and hauling me into his lap.

“Gray, darling, what are you–”

“If I were going to leave, I would never have moved in with you in the first place,” his deep voice rumbles against my ear, his nose buried in my hair.

“B-but if there’s a baby–”

“I thought you wanted babies,” he cuts me off. “In fact, I’m one hundred percent certain you mentioned them on more than one occasion.”

“Well, I do,” I murmur, “but we haven’t talked about when we wanted to start, um, trying, and since you haven’t said anything–”

“I’ll say it now then.”

What?

I blink as he turns my face toward him, cupping my cheeks in his hands.

“I want a baby, Juvia.”

Heat floods my body, and I reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing my eyes shut.

He can’t mean it. He must just be saying it to make me feel better.

“Don’t lie,” I hiss. “It’ll only make it worse.”

“You think I’m lying to you?” he growls. “Since when have I ever done crap like that?”

He has a point. Even when it hurt, my darling Gray has never lied to me. Though, sometimes I did wish he’d spared my feelings.

“I want a baby,” he says again.

“But…but you’re always saying how you don’t envy Gajeel whenever he’s with the twins. I thought–”

“Have you seen the twins? They’re nothing but trouble. It’s a miracle Gajeel has time to breathe, let alone take any jobs.”

“That’s true,” I whisper. “But still, you always said you wanted to wait and not to rush it. I don’t want you to–”

“If you’re already pregnant, it doesn’t really matter what I said. And to be honest, I have been…thinking about it.”

“You have?” I jerk back and stare at him.

“Your happiness is important to me, and I know you want a family,” he confesses. “Plus, I’ve seen Alzack and Bisca with Asuka; who wouldn’t want to have that? So you don’t need worry about me being angry with you. I’m not.”

“Gray, dear, we can’t have a baby just to make me happy, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he growls. “Look. I know I complain about babies and kids, especially the twins, but they’re not mine. I’ve known for a long time that when I have a kid, I’m going to love him the way my parents loved me and the way Ur loved Ultear. I would give my life for him, and I’ve never even seen him.”

“Gray, darling…”

“And any baby I have with you, I’ll love that much more,” he goes on. “Because I love you, Juvia, and you’ve loved me for longer than I probably want to know.”

“The day we met,” I whisper.

“Right.” He shakes his head at the same time he pulls me into his chest. “I know you’ll teach our son how to love relentlessly with strength to match. I want that.”

“Unless we have a girl,” I chime in.

“Everything I just said goes the same for a girl. The important thing is I want a baby, and I want one with you, Juvia.”

Oh my.

I shut my eyes and exhale slowly, my cheek against his guild mark, his heart beating in my ear.

I don’t know what to say. Gray isn’t usually so loquacious. And never so romantic.

Oh wait. There is that.

“Well, there might not be one,” I remind him quietly.

“Hmm, I guess you have a point.” He raises an eyebrow, and I feel my body begin quaking. “But, I know of a way to increase our chances.”

Oh no. I know that look. He’s suggesting sex!

“You mean…right now?”

“Oh yeah.” He smirks as he pulls me against his chest and rolls us in the bed so that I’m on my back with him hovering over me.

“Gray, my love, are you sure? It’s late, and–”

“I know you’re not trying to talk me out of sex,” he interrupts. “Because that would be crazy coming from the woman who would jump me in the guild hall if I didn’t stop her.”

“No.” I blush. He really does know me well. “I just…you said so many nice things, and I haven’t had time to think…”

“You don’t need to think,” he murmurs as he slides the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders. “If you’re pregnant, I want to celebrate.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then I want to change that.”

My mind goes blank as his mouth lowers to my neck. His hand slides up my thigh, and my heart starts racing.

“I love you, Juvia,” he whispers as I squirm under him.

“Yes, my love!” I pant. “I love you too.”

He continues touching me and kissing me, and I quickly forget to be worried. Forget to be anything. All I know is my darling Gray and everything he’s making me feel, which of course is all so very good.

rickon <3

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster.

Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. 

little Rickon called his Shaggydog, which Bran thought was a pretty stupid name for a direwolf. 

"Rickon needs you," Robb said sharply. "He's only three, he doesn't understand what's happening. He thinks everyone has deserted him, so he follows me around all day, clutching my leg and crying. I don't know what to do with him."

little Rickon, bright eyes shining as he begged for a sweet 

Wherever the boy went, Grey Wind was there first, loping ahead to cut him off, until Rickon saw him, screamed in delight, and went pelting off in another direction. Shaggydog ran at his heels, spinning and snapping if the other wolves came too close.

Whenever he was away more than a day, Rickon would cry and ask Bran if Robb was ever coming back.

She remembered her own baby, three-year-old Rickon, half the age of this boy and five times as fierce.

The memory still gave him bad dreams. He had been as helpless as a baby, no more able to defend himself than Rickon would have been. Less, even … Rickon would have kicked them, at the least.

His baby brother had been wild as a winter storm since he learned Robb was riding off to war, weeping and angry by turns. He'd refused to eat, cried and screamed for most of a night, even punched Old Nan when she tried to sing him to sleep, and the next day he'd vanished. Robb had set half the castle searching for him, and when at last they'd found him down in the crypts, Rickon had slashed at them with a rusted iron sword he'd snatched from a dead king's hand, and Shaggydog had come slavering out of the darkness like a green-eyed demon. The wolf was near as wild as Rickon; he'd bitten Gage on the arm and torn a chunk of flesh from Mikken's thigh. It had taken Robb himself and Grey Wind to bring him to bay. Farlen had the black wolf chained up in the kennels now, and Rickon cried all the more for being without him.

Rickon had refused to come down. He was up in his chamber, red-eyed and defiant. "No!" he'd screamed when Bran had asked if he didn't want to say farewell to Robb. "NO farewell!" "I told him," Bran said. "He says no one ever comes back."

"Shaggy," a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father's tomb. With one final snap at Summer's face, Shaggydog broke off and bounded to Rickon's side. "You let my father be," Rickon warned Luwin. "You let him be." "Rickon," Bran said softly. "Father's not here." "Yes he is. I saw him." Tears glistened on Rickon's face. "I saw him last night." "In your dream …?" Rickon nodded. "You leave him. You leave him be. He's coming home now, like he promised. He's coming home."

"Rickon," Bran said, "would you like to come with me?" "No. I like it here."

"I want one too," Rickon said. "I want four. I'm four."

A raven landed on the grey stone sill, opened its beak, and gave a harsh, raucous rattle of distress. Rickon began to cry. His arrowheads fell from his hand one by one and clattered on the floor. Bran pulled him close and hugged him.

When the Walders had arrived from the Twins, it had been Rickon who wanted them gone. A baby of four, he had screamed that he wanted Mother and Father and Robb, not these strangers.

Both of them were called Walder Frey. Big Walder said there were bunches of Walders at the Twins, all named after the boys' grandfather, Lord Walder Frey. "We have our own names at Winterfell," Rickon told them haughtily when he heard that.

Rickon yelled, "Me! Me now! I want to play!" Little Walder beckoned him on, and Shaggydog started to follow. "No, Shaggy," his brother commanded. "Wolves can't play. You stay with Bran." And he did . .  . . . until Little Walder had smacked Rickon with the stick, square across his belly. Before Bran could blink, the black wolf was flying over the plank, there was blood in the water, the Walders were shrieking red murder, Rickon sat in the mud laughing, and Hodor came lumbering in shouting "Hodor! Hodor! Hodor!" After that, oddly, Rickon decided he liked the Walders.

With Rickon by their side, the Walders plundered the kitchens for pies and honeycombs, raced round the walls, tossed bones to the pups in the kennels, and trained with wooden swords under Ser Rodrik's sharp eye.

Rickon was to his right, his mop of shaggy auburn hair grown so long that it brushed his ermine mantle. He had refused to let anyone cut it since their mother had gone. The last girl to try had been bitten for her efforts. "I wanted to ride too," he said as Hodor led Dancer away. "I ride better than you."

Ser Rodrik talked with Maester Luwin above Beth's curly head, while Rickon screamed happily at the Walders.

“Where are the direwolves?" "In the godswood," Rickon answered. "Shaggy was bad."

Rickon tugged at the maester's robe. "Is Robb coming home?"

"Tell Robb I want him to come home," said Rickon. "He can bring his wolf home too, and Mother and Father." Though he knew Lord Eddard was dead, sometimes Rickon forgot . . . willfully, Bran suspected.

Theon Greyjoy was seated in the high seat of the Starks. He had taken off his cloak. Over a shirt of fine mail he wore a black surcoat emblazoned with the golden kraken of his House. His hands rested on the wolves' heads carved at the ends of the wide stone arms. "Theon's sitting in Robb's chair," Rickon said.

"Are we going home?" Rickon asked excitedly. "I want my horse. And I want applecakes and butter and honey, and Shaggy. Are we going where Shaggydog is?"

"Take me home!" Rickon demanded. "I want to be home!"

"No use," said Luwin. "I'm dying, woman." "You can't," said Rickon angrily. "No you can't." Beside him, Shaggydog bared his teeth and growled. The maester smiled. "Hush now, child, I'm much older than you. I can . . . die as I please."

Outside, they made their farewells. Rickon sobbed and clung to Hodor's leg until Osha gave him a smack with the butt end of her spear. Then he followed her quick enough. Shaggydog stalked after them. The last Bran saw of them was the direwolf's tail as it vanished behind the broken tower.

Love Is You - chapter 13

A/n: Don’t worry Snape scenes will come soon and they will be stronger😉 but first Scar needs to take care of other things🙄

    Scarlett went to Ministry of Magic to visit Amos Langley the very next day after the meeting as she said. Before she entered the building took a deep breath; every day for years she came here happily to work but now it felt different. The ministry was one of her favourite places, she literally grew up in here because of her parents’ job; her mother Aurelia was the former minister of magic and her father Ricardus was the head of the auror’s department. But now this place gave her heart ache after the divorce and Arabelle. Scarlett shook those thoughts off and got on the elevator to go upstairs where his office was. When she arrived the floor, she changed her mind and decided to see the minister first and went to his room directly. Dorian welcomed her happily, but Scarlett could tell he’s still very distressed, he was looking even more tired and scared since they met in the cabin. They had a small chat and Scarlett let him know that she talked to Dumbledore without saying it out loud, during the years they worked together Scarlett and Dorian have created their secret signs to communicate during dangerous situations. Dorian looked a little bit relieved after knowing that the order will take an action. Scarlett kept the visit short, they were trying not to look suspicious if someone was watching him. She said goodbye and left to visit Amos Langley whose room was the right next door. Scarlett put a fake smile on her face before knocking on his door, then heard his arrogant voice that invited her in. His eyes widened when she entered the room with confidence. She has visibly changed the last time he saw her, old Scarlett was back apparently, Amos thought to himself.

“Miss Rose, i wasn’t expecting you. What a surprise.” He stood up to welcome her.

“I thought, i should pay you a visit back. Hopefully, you have some free time for me?” This time Scarlett held his hand quite strongly while shaking it, it was a payback time. Amos’s eyebrow raised in surprise.

“I can always spare time for you, Miss Rose. Have a seat.”

She sat on the brown leather chair, it felt weird to sit on the other side of the table now then she took a look at her old room. It has quite changed, the décor was totally different and uglier now and she couldn’t help but felt sad about it. She has spent her years in that room, it was her second home. While she was re-living some memories in her head, Amos served tea for both.

“Thank you. Did you get used to your new job, Mr. Langley?” Scarlett took a look at the tea but decided not to drink it, she didn’t trust Amos enough drink something from him.

“Just call me Amos. And yes it is going very good, I have plans.”

“I heard you finally abolished the law. What is your next move? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Like i said before, the law was way too harsh. And now i am planning to take them into services to gain those good witches and wizards back to community. I employed some of them here already.” He was looking very proud while talking about it which Scarlett despised.

“Don’t you think they are a risk to the community?”

“No, not as much as the muggle lovers. At least they won’t be causing the end of the wizarding world. You are a pureblood Miss Rose, you shouldn’t be on muggles’ side. Choose your side wisely, your acts might hurt you in the end.” He looked directly in her eyes, trying to intimidate her but he didn’t know the woman in front of him was not the type who would be easily scared.

“You are very thoughtful for warning me, thanks. But Amos, a half blood like you shouldn’t be very brave about that topic, you might get hurt too. After the muggleborns, next step is the half bloods. And once the death eaters gain their power back, they won’t care about you at all. You are a just a toy for them. But me, I came from a very old and wealthy pureblood family also I am a very powerful witch; they cannot dare to hurt me.” Scarlett stated everything so calmly but confidently, tables have turned so quickly and Scarlett was the one who is intimidating.

Amos’ face got redder with each word she said, he was biting his lip unconsciously. He didn’t know she would be that bold, apparently she was more dangerous than he thought. He was sure she was out of the game after the divorce, he wasn’t expecting her to collect herself back. His angry and confused expression made Scarlett grin, she enjoyed how her words annoyed him. “I better leave, I suppose you have things to do. Have a good day!” Scarlett cheered happily to annoy him even more, the stood up to leave with a hair flip like nothing happened. Amos couldn’t say a word and just watched her go, eating himself up with anger.

<<< 

    Couple of days have passed since Scarlett’s visit to Amos Langley and since back then she was feeling like someone is stalking her, whenever she was out she sensed a pair of eyes were watching her and made her feel uneasy. And tonight when she went to the kitchen to drink water, she saw a person in black in her garden who was directly looking into her from the other side of the window. They looked at each other for a split second before the person run away and got lost in the dark. Scarlett froze in her place unable to do anything for couple of seconds. She could hear and feel her heartbeat in her chest, she was shaking which caused her to drop the water glass she was holding. The night was long and Scarlett didn’t want to spend it alone after the unwanted encounter. But her parents were not in the country, Remus, Carina and Severus were at Hogwarts so she couldn’t call them either. There was one option left, Sirius. She wasn’t willing to call Sirius over since she wasn’t in good terms with him at all but she was already feeling unwell for couple of days and now plus to that she was scared; if someone broke into the house tonight, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it by herself. She was in a dilemma about Sirius and thought about it for some time but eventually she decided to send a patronus message to him. Within a minute Scarlett heard a pop sound from an apparition which startled her in fear at first and she grabbed her wand. Then she saw a worried Sirius who was looking around to see her and their eyes met.

“Scar darling what happened? You alright?” He sat down right next to her on the sofa worriedly.

“Thank you for coming Sirius. Sorry if I interrupted you but I had no one to call...”

“It is fine, of course you would call me. Tell me what’s going on?”

Scarlett told him about her suspects beforehand and then tonight’s encounter.

Sirius frowned angrily, stood up drawing his wand out. “I will find that asshole! Why the fuck he is stalking you!?”

Scarlett sighed and pulled him down by his jacket to make him sit down. “I might have threatened the deputy minister on Monday...” Then she told him about the conversation between her and Amos Langley. After she’s done with talking, Sirius let out a loud laugh, his angry behaviour was gone.

“That’s my girl! I would die to see his face all red and shocked, I hate that fucker!”

Scarlett couldn’t help and joined him laughing after Amos’s face appeared in her mind. “It face was priceless!” And she tried to imitate his expression and Sirius was laughing his ass off at this point.

The tense air was gone, and Scarlett was feeling less scared with a company by her side. They talked for some time until Scarlett couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. She wasn’t able to sleep through the night for couple of days because of her fever.

“Go to bed and sleep. I will stay here, you don’t need to worry.”

Scarlett yawned while rubbing her eyes. “I will sleep here on the sofa. Wake me up if you see someone or something suspicious.”

Sirius knew she wouldn’t change her mind even they argue about it so he didn’t try to send her to the bedroom again. “You forget you are with the head auror here. I will destroy them so smoothly, you will keep sleeping like a baby.” He said grinning.

“Ah how could i forget that...” she smiled sleepily and curled up on the sofa like a cat.

Sirius did accio a blanket and put it on her tenderly. He watched her sleep and softly caressed her ginger hair, trying not to wake her up. It made him happy that she still thinks he can protect her and she feels safe with him even after what he has done to her. He did swear to himself not to betray her trust ever again.

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—𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏;

pairing: higgs monaghan x f!reader

word count: 3.7k+

summary: “The storm will always reach the shore. Such is the nature of storms. They destroy.”

warnings: mentions of child abuse, DOOMS side effects, swearing, major DT spoilers obviously.

notes: So I’m playing hard and loose with canon here. Personally, I much prefer the idea of Higgs being this nihilist who is so powerful it's almost like he's a mischievous demi-god wrecking the world simply because he CAN. Because it’s his idea of kindness to end it all now. We’re just, uh, gonna mostly ignore EE here.

There’s a girl here.

There should be no girl here.

He doesn’t visit often—not anymore, at least. Not since his Beach has started giving him an odd, haunting sort of feeling.

The marvel of being able to see his own most private space struck a sense of awe in him once. Fragile jumped him here the first time.

And oh how he remembers that trip. The sensation of being here. The feeling of the sea breeze, the potent charge and heaviness that hung in the air like it was seconds away from storming.

The sea is restless now too, waves beating angrily against the shore as he stands there watching. Storm clouds boil ominous and dark in the distance, hanging over the distant horizon like a shroud.

His Beach is a rather desolate place. But it’s his and his alone.

That’s why an idea of someone else being here, in his space, rattles him.

For the first time in a long time, he feels unnerved.

Not even Fragile came that time.

No one, not even Amelie, has seen his Beach.

But the intruder stands knee-deep in the swirling water, gaze focused on the far distance. If Higgs had to take a guess, he thinks that you, too, are watching the clouds. Perhaps you’re wondering if the storm is going to reach the shore.

The storm will always reach the shore. Such is the nature of storms. They destroy.

The intruder suddenly tenses, turns, as if sensing that something is not right, but Higgs is faster. Between one breath and the next, he jumps right in front of you. He stands on top of the water, towering over you, and tilts his head in an open display of curiosity.

He catches a glimpse of your face. The parting of lips, the widening of your eyes, a startled gasp.

He reaches for you, ready to get his answers, but his hand sails through thin air instead.

He leans back, startled, and watches the dark remains of chiral matter tickle his gloved fingers.

Well, well, how interesting.

He knows you’ll be back.

There is no real way for him to know for sure, but he does.

He considers it a gut feeling and it has rarely failed him in the past.

Of course, just like expected, he’s right.

He’s made a habit of keeping a more careful vigil over his Beach ever since the little run-in, and he finds you once again breaching his space only three days later.

This time, he can sense you clearer, sharper.

The fact that you’re able to jump from his Beach at will suggest your DOOMS level is high. The tickle of curiosity makes him focus, inhale deeply, sensing and considering you as he watches. He wonders what’s your reason for coming here.

Why would you return if you know someone else is possibly occupying this space?

This time, instead of standing still you’re walking, your head tilted towards the sky in wide-eyed wonder.

He tears through the Beach, appearing right in front of you.

You stagger to a stop, instinctively shrinking back from his dark get up and golden skull mask. He cuts an imposing figure, he knows that. It still doesn’t stop him from smiling smugly beneath his masks though.

He knows you’re going to jump even before your fight or flight response kicks in, and he twists his arm, the black coil of BT energy wrapping around your arm like a rope.

You jump anyway and drag him with you like an unruly dog with an unassuming owner.

The jump only takes you about a hundred meters before you stumble to a stop, turning frantically to stare at your arm. You shake it frantically, trying to loosen the tight grip but Higgs clenches his fingers further and the black mass connecting you together contracts further.

He feels a pang of vague disappointment and annoyance. Are you not as powerful as he first suspected? He waits for you to use your DOOMS to break free but instead, you stagger forward, jumping again.

And again.

Again.

Irritation prickles his nerves as you drag him through half the Beach with stubbornness alone. Still, this is what he wants in a sense; for you to tire yourself out, to show just how powerful you truly are. You can’t keep this up forever.

“Let me go!”

“You’re free to go,” he drawls, mockery clear in his voice. “Go on then.”

Your eyes rage like the storm on the horizon and Higgs chuckles under his breath. The sound gets cut off almost immediately when he feels a swell of energy from his intruder. An arm pulsing with pure darkness and silver explodes from thin air, ripping the rope he’s fashioned between you.

The hand disappears the moment the action is done, leaving the air thick with chiralium, and you swaying on your feet. Higgs doesn’t waste time, he appears behind you, wrapping his arm around your neck as he presses you flush against him.

“Hmm, dear me,” he hums cheerfully against your ear, and you squirm desperately in his arms, panting. Exhausted. “Someone went ahead and got themselves into a predicament, didn’t we? You jump now, you take me with you.”

“Let go of me!”

“I don’t think so,” he says, his voice dipping into something colder. “Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice…well, there is no second time.”

He doesn’t see the headbutt coming till it connects with his face. The impact rattles his masks—barely a tickle, really—and he suspects you did more damage to yourself than him.

He laughs. He can’t quite help it.

Snapping his fingers, he steps back, gathering the already thick output of chiralium from you earlier performance to give life to the black tar that crawls up your body like shackles, bringing you to your knees.

“You’re an interesting little thing, ain’t ya?” he quips with a smile, tilting his head to get a better look at your face. Your expression is sallow and twisted with concentration as you breathe heavily. “So, you’re able to summon Gazers, huh? Or part summon at least. Ooh, but you don’t look so good,” he mocks, bending down to your level.

You trash, glaring, but have clearly exhausted yourself too much with you earlier performance. Tears roll down your cheeks and he tsks, leaning back before standing to circle you.  

“Who are you?” you demand but it’s a winded and exhausted attempt to appear strong.

Still, brownie points for effort.

“Oh me? I’m nobody,” he answers and leans closer, putting his fingers under your chin so he can meet your stare head-on. “And I’m everybody.”

He jumps behind you and observes with mild interest as you fight…so hard to get loose.

For a moment it takes him back to the shelter. It revives memories of his Daddy, of those powerful arms dragging him back—

“How did you find this place?”

Silence answers him, and in the far distance thunder rumbles.

He leans over you from behind, the coldness of his mask brushing against your warm cheek. “Didn’t your mama teach you that it’s rude to trespass, hm?”

“I’m not trespassing,” you snap, sounding as frustrated as he feels. “I’ve always been able to come here.”

Implying that the last two times have clearly not been the first. Underneath his mask, Higgs frowns in thought. Something like that shouldn’t be possible.

Some freak bleed-through effect as the network grows more powerful, perhaps? Or maybe your DOOMS level is powerful enough to give you access without you even realising it?

He could ask Amelie but, well, it seems like he’ll have to do some old-fashioned digging. The thought of just anyone being able to come here without his permission makes an angry growl bubble at the back of his throat.  

“Then I suggest you forget the path to this place real quick, honey.”

A sigh of indisputable frustration. “I’ve tried.”

“Try harder,” he insists, and this time the jovial undertone is completely absent. “Or the next time I find you here, I will scatter your remains across my Beach.”

With that, he turns to go.

“W-Wait! I can’t get out.”

He doesn’t bother turning around. “That’s not my problem.”

And then he’s gone.

Beach Log #1

-

There’s a girl in my Beach.

The Beach.

The one place where no one should be able to gain access some stranger apparently can just wander in whenever she pleases.

If I applied my Daddy’s logic to this, I should have just “encouraged” the truth out of her. I could have. And it would have been easy, too, with how exhausted she was. But I didn’t want to because where’s the fun in that? Maybe it’s because she almost reminded me—

No. There’s no point in even allowing myself to think about such bullshit. The past is the past.

The girl is powerful though. Being able to even partially summon a Grazer is…something.

Regardless, I’ve never seen her before, have no attachment to her whatsoever, nor she with me. Which then raises a rather interesting question for the class: how was she able to find my Beach? How is she able to come and go as she pleases?

I will find out. I always do.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s back again.

I don’t know how I know, but I do.

What a goddamn mess.

He finds you crying.

Normally, he loves it when people start sobbing in his presence, except this time he knows the tears have little to do with him. Or at least, he assumes so, considering you still haven’t spotted him.

He approaches deliberately, power sizzling between his fingers. He told you what will happen if you wander in here again, and while admittedly he’s become rather interested in learning more, it still irks him to see you back.

Waves beat against you as you kneel in the dark sand, the distant rumble of thunder the only sound between you. You know he’s here. He stands before you and waits.

He’s not sure what for, exactly, perhaps for you to plead for your life. To fight, which would be preferable. A challenge is always welcomed.

“Do you have a death wish, girl?” he speaks, at last, having grown bored of waiting.

By this point, your sobbing has subsided into an occasional sniffle and he watches with a degree of interest as your head rises. A large wave washes over your body, making you shiver, and your teeth clench when your eyes meet.

They’re bloodshot but furious and sad too.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whisper but it’s a dead and hollow thing.

He knows that look. Has seen it plenty of times staring back at him in every reflective surface when he was still a brat. Trapped and unable to leave, wasting away with his stomach in knots and nursing dark bruises. He knows what a wild, trapped thing looks like. He’s spent years being one of them.

He escaped when his Daddy died. He imagines you haven’t been quite so lucky.

He wonders, then, if that’s why you find your way here. If perhaps his Beach recognises that frantic hurt, the restless longing for freedom in you as well.

“Oh, I’ve heard that plenty of times in the past,” he remarks scornfully, raising his arm and watches how power curls through his fingers with that effortless ease he now treasures so fiercely. “Can you guess where they all ended up?”

“I don’t know how I get here,” you mutter instead, but your gaze is cautious, wary. Smart girl. “I’m not doing anything wrong either. I just…come here. It’s peaceful. It’s—”

“An escape?”

Your eyes jump to him in surprise. Teardrops still cling to your lashes, clumping them together. You look like a mess, and he’s inclined to tell you so but before he can, you stagger to your feet. Unsteady but determined.

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” you explain hurriedly, and look like you’re about to take a step towards him but think better of it. “Just—can I please continue coming here?”

Your hopeful eyes try to find his own beneath the mask and he chuckles. It’s a scathing sound and he jumps behind you, making you flinch.

“Let me think about that one,” he drawls lazily, “Hm. Nope. No can do. Go to your own Beach.”

Recoiling, you turn around to stare up at him with a mix of bitter disappointment. Your drenched appearance isn’t doing you any favours in helping you appear more menacing either. Just more miserable.  

“I—I can’t.”

“Sweet thing, you’re saying that with a tone that implies I should give a damn, and, uh,” he says, nodding his head from side to side as if in deep thought. “I really don’t. But I’ll bite. Why can’t you go?”

You wring your hands together but halt when you notice his attention drift towards the restless motion. “I…it makes me feel…unwell.”

Oh?

“What’s your DOOMS level?” is his sharp and immediate response.

Your eyes fly up to him and you visibly swallow.

Sore question, huh? He figured it had something to do with your DOOMS level from the start but this as good as confirms it.

“That’s private,” you respond firmly, your eyes regaining some of that sheen from your second meeting, from your fight. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Higgs sighs loudly, spreading his arms to either side of him like he looks forward to welcoming you into his embrace. “I am the owner of this Beach. Which means my rules are at play right now,” he explains and wags his finger at you like you’re a naughty child. In some sense, you are. “And don’t try to lie to me, either. I can sense it. The power that simmers under your skin. Hmm, oh yes. I do believe that I know exactly what ails you.”

Your eyes widen, your lips part in wonder, and it’s almost miserable how full of hope you look in that moment. “You—you do? Tell me.”

“Tsk, tsk, what do I look like to you?” he wonders, gesturing at himself, but doesn’t wait for your reply. “A charitable man? Sorry to disappoint but no dice. Your DOOMS level first.”

The hesitation marring your face is understandable. This world is cruel with those without power, and it is—perhaps—even crueller to those with power. Higgs is starting to piece together a murky image when it comes to you. An image that tells him that you have no idea how to harness that great power lurking deep down. It tells him that DOOMS is eating you from inside out and you have no idea how to cope because no one has shown you how.

Once—no, more than once—he’s been in a similar position. A position of no power, no resources, no future. Of course, that’s before he realised how idiotic it is to hope for a better world. Before he freed himself of the shackles holding him down, binding him to this endless struggle till he eventually dies.

Better raze everything in existence to nothing before he goes out.

“It was Level Six but—”

A whistle slips free and filters through his mask, echoing across the otherwise empty Beach as your eyes narrow. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh loudly. He jumps to your side and leans closer towards your face.

“My, my,” he coos softly, his words taunting as he ghosts his fingers over your chin. “You’ve grown stronger, haven’t you? Just like me.”

You pull back, a step at the time only, and he can at least respect the fact that you don’t scurry away like a spooked animal. You shouldn’t either. In real life, outside this Beach at least, he imagines you’re powerful enough to cause all sorts of trouble.

Something tells him that others know it too. That’s why his Beach is an escape. Why you’re so desperate to stay.

But why him? And why now?

He turns away from you, dismissive, and steps onto the water. He stays on top of the restless surface and lowers his head to look at his blurred reflection beneath. The golden mask gleams even in the murky mirror.

A mask not for death, he swore to himself once, but for ruling. For life.

He glances back at you. You stand shivering and wary on the shore, and he snorts under his breath. Miserable, but powerful little thing. Alone too.

Wild and trapped.

“Stay if you will, but I promise you this: you will find no peace here.”

Higgs can tell you’re about to appear approximately five seconds before you actually bloom into existence.

It’s a tickle of power, almost like a hand reaching out and grasping onto him, before you appear in a swirl of black and silver. Your knees fold and you sink onto them, your lips cracked and mouth twisted into an unhappy line.

“You look like shit.”

You don’t say anything in reply to that. You simply breathe. In fact, you inhale so deeply, he reckons your lungs expand to their full capacity. It’s like you haven’t drawn a single breath since the last time he saw you here.

Higgs watches the storm in the distance, his elbows resting on his raised knees as he waits for the swelling waves to finally reach you both.

Your hands drop to either side of you, and your fingers dig into the dark sand desperately. Your relief at being here is palpable, and he would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he finds it as irritating as he does fascinating.

His eyes slide unhurriedly across the landscape.

It’s a miserable fucking place.

Dark sand, dark sky, dark water. 

Dark as far as the eye can see.

There is nothing about this place that should make you think of safety, of comfort.

The expression on your face says otherwise though.

Your eyes are closed, head tilted upwards, and your inhales and exhales are slow, rhythmical. Peaceful.

“What’s your name?”

When you finally do decide to speak, it’s hardly what he expects or wants. He’s here to observe you only until he can find a way to forcefully expel you from here. He’s already tried last time but failed.

It seems like you’ve lodged yourself into his Beach like a splinter. For now.

“That’s a rather shitty attempt to distract yourself, sweetheart.”

Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Except he’s not here to give you free therapy for whatever issues you have going on. He has his own shit to handle.

“If you have nothing to hide then why wear a mask?” you wonder instead, and sound genuinely curious. “Does it mean anything?”

“It’s a symbol,” he replies and honestly doesn’t know why. Boredom, probably. “A face is not necessary for my plans. But, oh how humanity will know my name before they’re complete.”

He’s still staring towards the horizon but feels and hears your head turn in his direction. “What plans?”

A chuckle rumbles from deep inside his chest. “The type to give a little girl like you nightmares.”

“I already have nightmares,” you shoot back, and there’s a sliver of ice in your voice that makes his lips curl in amusement beneath the mask. “I told you. You don’t frighten me.”

Of course. He bets your nightmares are almost as bad as his own.

He teleports in front of you, crouching till you’re both facing each other, and his amusement only increases with your shallow—startled—exhale. “Oh yeah? And what haunts your nightmares, girl?”

You stare at him for a long moment, tight-lipped and stubborn, and he wonders if you think he’s buying into your little act. A valiant effort, but redundant.

“You.”

He laughs at that; a dry, unfriendly sound as he pats your cheek in a shallow display of mocking affection. “Good,” he mutters and rises to his feet. “I can live with that.”

Higgs does feel some semblance of surprise when you rise to your feet right after him though. “Why won’t you tell me your name? I’m (Name).”

Because he doesn’t want to.

Because you’re wary but brave too.

Because you don’t trust him—perhaps even fear him, despite how you keep insisting otherwise—but not for the reasons everyone else does.

To you, he’s just a man in a mask whose Beach you’ve decided to hijack.

There is, admittedly, a certain degree of freedom when it comes to that ignorance on your part.

The less you know, the better. It’s not like you will be coming here for much longer anyway. He will make sure of it.

Perhaps, he can indulge in that ignorance for a little bit longer in the meantime.

“I don’t care.”

Before he disappears, he could swear he hears a chime of weak laughter follow, but the sound is ripped away from him by the jump.  

Beach Log #2

-

Maybe I should have killed her when I first saw her intruding.

Of course, that thought crossed my mind. I’m me.

Truth be told—and ain’t that a kicker—I’m not sure why I didn’t when I had the chance. Now the girl has gone ahead and made herself interesting. Just peachy.

She is powerful though. And she could be useful.

If the Last Stranding is to pass as I hope, I may need some triumph cards at my disposal. The girl—(Name)—is untapped power potential. I wager she’s even more powerful than Fragile. Ha. Just my luck.

She has that look in her eyes that I like too. A wild thing ready to break free.

Her body is weak though. Power always comes at a price, I would know. DOOMS is a poison she has no idea how to deal with, and I have a feeling someone is purposely keeping her crippled, dependant. Disgusting. But with the right encouragement…

She might become mighty yet.

If not, I will kill her. She knows too much and has access to my Beach. I can’t have loose ends. Fragile is bad enough.

She reminds me of myself though. It almost makes me hope she doesn’t disappoint.

. . .

an: I’m trash and I will never change. I do have plans for more (since this is only a small part of the longer narrative I planned to write) so if you guys would like to see more, let me know! We’re all thirsty for goth Troy Baker and honestly who can blame us? Thank you for reading!

Hi Lazarus! from the hurt/comfort prompts: “Hey, just look at me. Breathe.” Thank you!!

this story got completely out of control, but I vomited up 2.5k words from this prompt! thank you for sending it! I had a lot of fun with this little story, and while I don’t think I managed to bring it to a successful resolution, it taught me a lot about pacing!

to recap, you inspired a whole story idea with the first hug prompt you sent me. I was thinking about what Hawke & friends must have gone through, escaping Kirkwall, and how utterly miserable and emotionally shattered every single one of them must have been. what would that emotional catharsis have looked like? then ellie-elfie sent me a few prompts, which I looped into the story you inspired here, and then ended with this. I posted it on AO3 as Catabasis, though I realize I stopped the story before they go back underground. Thanks again for inspiring this. This was a lot of fun! 

The warm wet of the woods washes away the ash of the last of Kirkwall. Merrill winds them through the muddy woods. She makes them take their shoes off to confuse their tracks, despite Anders muttering about hookworm and Varric’s hatred of dirt, and routinely casts a spell to shift the leaf litter back over their prints. “It’s going to look like elves were travelling, if they’re looking at all,” she says. “Not four humans, a dwarf, and Dog.” Dog barks merrily at the mention of him and Fenris shushes him. “In Seheron, we had caligo lagoenae,” Fenris says. “Can you do something similar?” “Fenris, I don’t speak Tevene,” Merril says shortly. Hawke puts their hand on her shoulder. She is still irritated over the grammar argument in the cave, and Hawke knows she has refused to learn Tevene as a point of principle. Bethany’s said that the best way to learn old magic is to read the magisterium’s journals. Merrill has said the only elves who know Tevene are slaves and slavers, and she would rather not. She continues, “Do you know it in Common? Or is it a spellword?” Fenris snaps, “Don’t patronize me,” and now it is Anders’ turn to step in and diffuse the situation. “I can work up a fog,” he says. “But you’re better at nature magic than I am, Merrill.” They don’t bother asking Bethany, because Bethany is best at curses and massively destructive rift spells. Hawke smirks to themself. Their family always makes a splash, wherever they go--good thing Merrill knows how to cover it up. Merrill weaves and thickens the humidity of the already cloying woods into a thick fog. Bethany summons a small flame and leads them forward, Fenris at her side, checking for signs that his underground left. Aveline sighs. “Creeping through the forest with a thick fog, as if that’s not suspicious.” She shakes her head. Fenris made her change into a light leather armor and leave her guard’s uniform behind. She looks close to the worn woman that Hawke met, all those long years ago, with the security of Kirkwall of her back. She still clutches her sword. Hawke is sorry they made her throw away the Amell family shield. They cannot help but suspect Fenris took some pleasure out of ordering Aveline out of her uniform. They’ve wanted to do the same for so long too, but they know the only way to balance their friends is to step out of the way. Aveline is an idealist, perhaps even more than Anders is; she finds her disillusionment in her own way. Hawke mutters a curse as they step into a particularly noxious puddle of mud. They’ve pushed her further down it, certainly. “Dunno how you stand this,” Hawke says. “The mud. The bugs. Fungus. Do you ever think you’re going to get infected with, like, mushroom people?” “Mushroom people,” Varric mutters. “That’s a good one. Better than lizards.” “No, really,” Hawke protests, scraping the mud of their feet on a tree. Merrill, irritated, waves a hand and the mud hardens and falls off. Hawke blushes: right, that’s a very clear mark a person was there. “Sorry. But, we’ve all seen some strange things in our time in Kirkwall. Amulets that turn into strange witches who can turn into dragons and eat darkspawn. Trees that turn into angry men-spirit-elf things that guard tombs. An actual ancient elvhen god, living in the sewer.” “You know, it’s not so clear Xebenkeck was one of my people’s gods,” Merrill says testily. “She is referred to as both a Forbidden One in our lore and a Forgotten One in the Chantry’s interpolation of the Tevinter text, and--” “Pedant,” Hawke says fondly. “But given all the weird shit we’ve had to fight, I feel like we’re due for some mushroom people springing up on us.” Merrill says, “That’s not how the Fade works. This is land still roved by the People. Think about it like a garden. A good Keeper prunes back the rot and the overgrowth, and leaves space for growth. And burns it out, when necessary. Kirkwall hasn’t had a good Keeper in a long time.” “Or First,” Fenris says nastily. Merrill says, “That demon took Marethari, Fenris. Not me. And if you’re not able to understand that, I don’t understand how you’re able to tolerate Justice and Anders and not what I did with Audacity.” “Because Justice isn’t a demon,” Anders says angrily. Merrill sighs. “I haven’t the time to argue Chantry propaganda with you. You can lead a halla to the water, but you can’t make him drink. I don’t understand how you can hate the Circles and still impose the way they shape the Fade--” “Oh, come off it, you’re worse than Velanna,” Anders says. “Even you have to admit, that time Hawke dragged us into the Fade, that demons mirror Andraste’s teachings on the seven deadliest sins.” “Only because Andrastians outnumber us now,” Merrill argues. “Because when I dream with my clan, we see spirits inherently different--which implies that there is no set form, as you say. What’s the line between Justice and Vengeance, anyway? Between Pride and Fortitude, Audacity and Courage? Fenris, you must have seen how Seheron feels differently than, say, Minrathous, or Kirkwall, or even Wycombe and the Friendly Homes. Where the Fade touches the Waking World--” “They’re going to go on like this for hours,” Varric says. “And I don’t understand shit. Sunshine, why don’t you ever join in?” “Both of them are far too proud to be fun to argue with,” Bethany shrugs. She pushes the lick of flame over her head and nudges it onward. It warms her tired face. Hawke thinks that she looks like their mother, as beautiful as her too, and Leandra would be furious to see the mess their children had made of their lives, on the run again. But she would be happy that they were alive. They troop through the forest, wet and muddy and irritable, and eventually even Anders runs out of things to argue about. Hawke grows comfortable in the smell of Merrill’s petrichor spells. Though the mud is admittedly unpleasant, they like the feel of wet grass sticking to their feet and legs. The woods are loud, Merrill’s magic feels like a hug from her herself, and they feel like they may just get through this. The ground grows rocky as they climb into the Vimmarks. Varric, though he hates inclined surfaces, argues that it is safer to stay in the mountains and follow a winding path past Ostwick rather than risk crossing them and skirting so close to Starkaven. “Prince Charming won’t think we’ll go up,” he says. “Trust me. One thing Sebastian knows about me, is how much I hate hiking.” They set up camp in rock shelters Merrill picks out. She knows this part of the route better than Fenris. Rain sets back in at night. Hawke wonders if Merrill inadvertently summoned it, with her fog spells. It is hard to gauge what a mage can do, because their friends regularly do the impossible. Varric has plucked arrows out of the air, Fenris can pass through walls like a lyrium-infused ghost, and Aveline took down the eldritch horror of a rock wraith in the Deep Roads. The feel of the caves is fantastic. The air tastes good, somehow, fresh and hungry, and the walls are inscribed with runes, layered through the ages. Some of them Merril can read, and she and Fenris sit down with a notebook and they go over them together, Merrill saying the words aloud and Fenris trying to write them down. Anders sits next to Hawke as they watch them. They are all tired, but the tension has been easing the further they get away from the city. They are not sure any of this can be resolved, but right now, they are too tired to fight. “Has Fenris been teaching  you his dialect?” Hawke asks. “Merrill tries with me, she’s very particular about it. Says my accent is adorably shit.” Anders says, “Justice knows Elvhen. I--sometimes I know it when he says it, sometimes I don’t. It’s easier when the Veil is thinner, but gives me a headache.” “Huh. So spirits speak Elvhen.” Hawke turns to Bethany. “How does that work?” She is the Fade expert, out of the trio, though Bethany disengages with grace whenever Merrill disagrees with her. Bethany shrugs. “Dunno. Maker’s first children? Anecdotally I’ve heard that elvhen mages are more susceptible to the Harrowing--” “That’s not true,” Anders interrupts, “that’s because of templar bias and the way they’re discriminated against--” “Let me finish, Anders,” Bethany says, irritated. “As I was saying. There seems to be a stronger pull between elves and spirits, and Merrill thinks is has to do with Dalish cosmology, though that wouldn’t make sense because Orsino--well, no one has actually studied it. And now no one will, not with what’s happening with the Circles. If they don’t just kill us all.” “Fiona won’t let that happen,” Anders says, face hard. “The Liberati have enough of a majority to push for a vote.” Bethany snorts. “Didn’t know you were that engaged in Circle politics.” “I voted,” Anders protests. “Until it was no longer useful for me.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hawke says. “I’m gonna go talk to Varric instead.” The days proceed much like the rest. People talk. Hawke listens. They learn that Isabela, Anders, and Merrill have all met the hero-wardens of Ferelden before. Merrill comes from the same clan as Warden Mahariel, though Sabrae split before the Blight. Anders still corresponds with Surana, who lives in Amaranthine to avoid the stress of warden politics and to support Warden Tabris, who Isabela hooked up with in Denerim. Isabela also slept with the Left Hand of the Divine, they discover, and the King of Ferelden’s lover. “Though we couldn’t talk him into bed with us,” she sighs. “Though Zevran and Tabris and I really tried. He just--I think he got overwhelmed by all the anatomy. Poor boy.” Hawke snickers. The days go on like this, aching their way through the Vimmarks. These are the paths the Dalish take, and escaped slaves, and occasionally mages. They find marks of all three groups overlapping, though Bethany casts enough obfuscation hexes to keep them from intersecting that she collapses in her bedroll at the end of each day, shaking. Likewise cleaning their tracks begins to take a toll on Merrill. She withdraws into herself, focusing on relentlessly hiding their trail, and not even Varric can get her to laugh. “I’m tired,” she says. “And I need to focus. Please stop.” Hawke decides they need a rest day at the border of Hercinia and Wycombe. Fenris knows a cave system that will take them directly to his friends from Clan Lavellan, who promised him refuge the last time they saw him. He claims it will only take two days, but it will be two days without sunlight, and Hawke remembers how depressed Varric got without the sky. They camp in a treehouse built into a grove right below the mouth of the cave. Everyone is quiet, for the most part, curled around the fire. Aveline hums as she patches a shirt for Isabela, and Anders goes through his medicine bag to reassure himself they have enough to heal them through to Wycombe. Varric stares into the fire. “When I write about this,” he says, “I think I’ll keep this for myself.” “Why?” Bethany asks. He purses his lips, thinking. Hawke wraps their arms around Merrill, who is already half-asleep, and enjoys their friends. It is always fun to watch Varric think, he’s the cleverest out of all them, except maybe Merrill. Merrill buries her face in their arms, and they look down, concerned. She is upset, and there is nowhere private to ask why. The fire casts shadows over his face. Varric looks old. They all do. It has been a hard month. He says finally, “Because there’s no romance in it. No one wants to read about the Champion and their friends all fighting, and not really coming to any consensus besides that they want to stop fighting and be safe. There’s no moral in it, nothing uplifting. Just that people fight, viciously. That we make mistakes we can’t fix. And we just have to live with it. It’s not compelling. Not like our story in Kirkwall, which is more about Kirkwall. Who are we without the city in the background? I don’t know. I think I’ll end it in the docks. Or maybe with us watching the city burn. So people can assign us closure. Choose their own happy ending, because I don’t know what ours will be yet.” Isabela says, “Nothing special, just pieces.” She stretches again. “Keep talking like that and you’ll end up a Qunari. Our story doesn’t need a moral, Varric. That’s not how life works.” “I know that,” he says. “But that’s not the point. The story isn’t life. So I can make it work however I want.” Merrill pushes herself up in Hawke’s lap and whispers in their ear, “If they all start arguing again I will either scream or cry, I haven’t decided yet.” The journey has taken its toll on her. Hawkes examines her closely and sees the shadows like smudges under her eyes. She’s paler than usual, and she starts shaking. Hawke inclines to the edge of the treehouse with their head and quickly they move as far as they can from the others. Bethany looks at them questioningly, but they shake their head sharply. Mercifully they are left alone. Bethany is a good sister. She knows exactly when to look the other way and cause a distraction--and that she does, wheedling Varric to read a piece from his book. As the others laugh at the mess Varric has made of them, Hawke turns to Merrill. They ask, “Are you alright?” The fire casts light into Merrill’s eyes like a cat’s. When she looks at them, her eyes shine and Hawke cannot help but remember how otherworldly she is. She bridges both worlds, the Dalish and the human, but sometimes the old magic wills out. Merrill says, “Clan Lavellan doesn’t like me much. Because of Marethari. I don’t get along with their First. And I’m not sure how their Keeper will respond to me.” “Then they’re idiots,” Hawke says, “and we’ll keep moving. Send Aveline to resupply in town, and move onto Rivain. Dairsmuid or Llomerryn, or that Dalish town Isabela talked about.” Merrill is shaking harder now. “No.” Hawke takes her hands, but she pulls away. “I wish it were that easy, vhenan. But there won’t be anywhere to go. Not with the Dalish. Because of me.” “Hey,” Hawke says. “Just look at me. Breathe. That’s not true. Look at me.” Merrill’s eyes flash back to blue. “We got this far, okay? And I’m okay with--I didn’t grow up as nomadic as you, but I can do it. It could be fun. I liked moving, as a kid. Bethany and I are used to it. And if we can get another ship, well, that’ll make things easier. And you know Isabela’s going to get us on a ship at some point. I know everything is changing. If the Divine calls that Exalted March...well, you remember what that dragon lady said.” “Asha’bellanar,” Merrill corrects, lips twitching. “And it was a prayer to Mythal that revived her, there’s something in that.” Hawke sighs. “Well, you remember what she said.” They close their eyes and focus on the words, which has haunted them since--partly because the delivery had been so terrifying. They quote, “‘We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment...and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.’ And, well, we’re lying up in the sky right now, so I think we’re doing alright.” Merrill smiles despite herself. “How do you remember that?” she asks. “I don’t even remember it like that.” “Varric wrote it down,” Hawke confesses. “And it sounded so cool I memorized it. It’s good advice.” Merrill turns to the fire, where Aveline is holding a book with a luridly pink cover over the fire while Anders and Isabela cackle and Varric jumps, protesting. She says, “I know I shouldn’t have let Keeper find out about Audacity. She thought I was weak, but I knew her pride, I knew her arrogance. And her fear, since Tamlen died. I should’ve written to Mahariel, who could’ve convinced her. Or gone to the Applewood--but I didn’t. And though I lost my clan, I still have you. My aravel.” She gestures to their friends. “Walkers of the lonely path, who never submit.” She smiles sadly. “I think I fell into that abyss, Hawke. And now I’m starting to float up.” Hawke takes her hand and kisses it. Her nails are bitten to the quick. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” they say. “Can you teach Anders that spell?” “No, vhenan,” Merrill shakes her head. “It’s--it was part of my duties as First, to clear the tracks of the aravel. I can’t teach a human that. I love you all, but that is for myself.” They accept that, and all the ways Merrill pushes herself too hard, and hand-in-hand they get up and rejoin their friends at the fire. There is a touch of mania to the conversation. Everyone is utterly shattered, but they do not want to go to sleep. No one knows what the next day will bring, and they are clinging to the routine they have set up. Hawke blinks and pretends that they are at the Hanged Man for a moment, but the bar has run dry, so they are all stuck being sober and chummy with each other. It doesn’t work. It feels dishonest, and the woods smell too good. Finally, Aveline takes charge. “We need to rest. Especially you, Merrill. Those spells couldn’t have been easy. We’ll get up before dawn and head out then.” Fenris speaks up. “And Clan Lavellan will hide us, for however long we need.” He looks at Merrill steadily. “First Lavellan promised me that. They will not abandon their vhenallin. And she owes me a favor, anyway.” Varric says idly, “There’s a story in there.” Bethany groans. “Not more stories, please,” she says. “Aveline’s right, we do need to rest. This part’s nearly over.” She banks the fire to keep it burning low through the night and they set up their last camp before the descent. Hawke is struck by the faith they have in them, going through their nightly routine. They have been two weeks on the road, camping through the woods, and though they have spent it mostly at each other’s throats, they have made it through. So little has been resolved, and there is still so much unknown. As Flemeth predicted, they stand balanced on the precipice of change, and they know they are about to launch themselves off that cliff. But they have their friends to slow that crash, and by this point, who knows? Maybe the witch will turn them into a dragon. Settling into their sleeping roll, Hawke cannot help but grin. They faced down the Blight, the long march to Kirkwall, the Deep Roads, their mother’s death, and the start of a revolution. What could possibly happen next? They whisper to Merrill, “I feel like this world is dying. It’s monstrous.” They smirk. “Monstrously exciting. Can’t you feel it? A new world is trying to be born.”