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edwardskhakipants · 3 years

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Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested. Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to.

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats.

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo. “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen

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astraltrickster · 2 years

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I think a lot of us overlook one of the single best things about Sieg having a Servant body as a terminal with Chaldea

And that is the fact that his presence creates the capacity to turn Goredolf's life into a LIVING HELL OF AWKWARDNESS

Sieg being immune to his gruff and demanding nature because he knows he got it from his dad and he knows that no matter how much he liked to pretend otherwise said dad turned into a total pushover after losing Siegfried

Da Vinci trying to figure out exactly how to define their relationship like

Da Vinci: So, would you say you're like cousins? Or, didn't his dad create you, does that make you more like brothers?

Sieg: I'm not sure, but the person he keeps talking about who helped raise him was my sister, if that means anything

Da Vinci, vibrating with barely-contained glee: Oh! So the Director is basically your NEPHEW!

Astolfo absolutely rolling with this and calling himself Goredolf's uncle too

Sieg accidentally dropping very embarrassing (and/or incriminating) stories about Gordes, including very casually mentioning "he was ordered to bring me back alive but ended up getting angry and killing me once, but I don’t think either of them would do it again after what happened from there"

Sieg accidentally calling him Gordes because to him "Goredolf" is that kid he saw a couple times in passing

Moriarty learning to recognize Goredolf's "WE HAD A 'FAMILY REUNION' AGAIN GIVE ME THE STRONGEST YOU'VE GOT" face from a mile away

Just...think about it.

#fate #fgo #fate grand order #fate apocrypha #sieg #goredolf

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mrskurono · 3 years

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REPOST FROM MY NON WRITING BLOG title: breakdown of break through || Kageyama Tobio x fem!Reader a/n: again, a repost from my real old blog I just got tired of going back onto it to find this when I wanna comfort binge it. So I’m just posting it here for easy access for myself word count: 3k tags: fluff, friends to lovers ish trope, timeskip!Kageyama, adults enjoying two (2) beers with a meal, unedited character(s): Kageyama Tobio (hq) synopsis: Tobio arranged for you to come pick him up when he came back for a visit. His plane was early. You were on time. Suddenly you’re eating a meal with his family like your back in high school all over again. This time though he finds the words he couldn’t before.

Through break down or black out that name lit up on your phone like none other.

Tobio.

Now though you were getting a slough of texts. Phone humming in your hand. Giving you no time to look at the messages and look for the black haired man in the crowded airport. Once more you glanced up at the gate number knowing it was the right one he told you. Where was he then?

Fed up finally you skip past all the texts just to call him. Only a single ring on the other end and you spoke before he had a chance, "Where are you?"

"What?"

"Where are you?" You repeat into the phone a little sharper than intended, "I'm at the gate I thought you were going to get off?"

"I'm already off, I'm at my place I thought-"

"Oh my god when did you land then?!" Huffing you were about to hang up and find the incriminating texts that said when his flight got in. Of course you didn't because Tobio stopped you.

"I told you when I left things were early so I'd be landing about two hours before and we didn't have a layover." Tobio's voice pauses on the other end as you groan loudly into the phone speaker to let him know how displeased you were. "Wait, where are you?"

"I'm at the terminal you idiot!" With little care for anyone looking at you like the mad woman screaming into your phone that you were, "Where are you already?!"

"My place I told you! Are you going to come over or not?!"

"W-What?" You stop a second like you didn't hear him, "What?"

"I said are you coming over? I thought we were going to hang out."

Not what was agreed on. In fact you intended to pick him up and the idea of hang out was maybe you'd grab a bite to eat then that be it. You hadn't seen one another in, oh well, it had to be two almost three years now. Sure you texted each other almost every day. With regular facetime happening weekly. The idea of seeing each other face to face though. It left your stomach tight and a bundle of nerves a little less than understandable. He was a big shot volleyball player now. Being friends with a celebrity felt weirder to you than you cared to admit. You thought if maybe just a lunch and then he could go see the guys things would be alright. Instead now he was asking you to come hang out at his place all of a sudden.

"What?" You echo yourself for a third time like he asked.

"I told you to come over! I thought that's what we were gonna do!"

You swallow the lump in your throat as you grip your phone tighter, "Wait- What about the others and Shoyo I just thought-"

"Just come over already."

Undeniable click on the other end when he hung up. No second to dispute it in the moment. You wanted to hang out. You really did. But something ate you. Nerves. Maybe this was a bad idea. What you had going was perfect and seeing each other for the first time in years seemed like you were going to ruin something. Unsure what there was to ruin. You two were friends. This white knuckled grip on your phone seemed silly. But why wasn't it going away?

Shaking the nerves out like you could simply whisk them away. You pocketed your phone ready to still yell at him for mixing up such a simple schedule and making you go to the airport like an idiot.

Last time you recalled being at Tobio's place was for a going away party. Of course his own because his mother threw it and all of the volleyball team and tagalongs were included. It was fun last time, with everyone that is. Yachi and Kiyoko to be with, you really enjoyed yourself the last time you were here. But now you wondered if you could have just as much fun without all your friends around to buffer you.

One might mock the twenty something year old for keeping his stuff at home. Repeatedly Tobio asked why would he move when most his time was spent in Germany. He came home to see family and friends anyways. Keeping his things there only made more sense.

Finding yourself wrapping your knuckles on the Kageyama's door after you finally made it to where he was and not the airport. It took but one wrap to be greeted by the setter in a heartbeat.

"Tobio!" Your eyes widen, having to actually tip your head back to look at him. Was he this tall last time you saw him, "Your- Where is-"

"My mom's out with my sister. You missed that cry fest already," His blue eyes roll to the back of his head only for a second. Followed by a cheeky smile. An actual smile crossing his lips as he looks down at you for a moment. Perhaps realizing he really was looking down at you, "It's uh..."

"Been a while?" You feel the tips of your ears getting warm.

This was stupid. Utterly insane.

You saw him almost every week on the screen of your phone. Why was this so much different? Why couldn't there be someone else here to buffer this for you.

"Two and a half years since you came and saw me in Germany," Tobio palmed the back of his head with that crooked smile on his face wearing a hole in your heart.

You look him up and down, still in athletic gear like it was all he owned. Actually that was probably true. He was shit at figuring what to wear so Tobio just opted for brand loyalty of anyone who gave him free stuff. Those athletic shorts a testament to that fact considering you at least tried to wear something nice and clean to pick him up at the airport he decided to leave from.

"What the hell is with you not telling me you left early!?" Snapped back to the indignance you felt at the airport and the drive over, you cross your arms with a peeved look.

"That's not true!" He dug into his pocket for his phone. Quick to shove it in your face of your text conversation last night. Tobio pointing out the text he explained poorly as an early flight. You couldn't focus in the seconds following when the fresh scent of his familiar deodorant hit you.

It'd been so long. You'd forgotten how much you loved the way he smelled even when you were in school together. To think it still made your chest as tight as it did back when you were teenagers. Almost enough to make you not notice your name in his phone.

There, tacked onto the end your name was a heart. A double take in order. That was until Tobio realized you weren't looking at his text. And right away he yanked his phone away from your view. Cheeks dusted with red as he fidgeted and tried to push his hair back off his face to no avail. Absorbed too much in his phone you hadn't realized his hair was wet as well. Explaining why you could smell his familiar deodorant so easily. He'd obviously taken a shower.

"You took a shower like I haven't seen drenched in sweat?" You break the forming ice between the two of you in an attempt to not let it get any worse. Even if your ears feel as hot as the sun. Your attempt seems to ease something between the two of you and Tobio let a bit of a smile soften on his features.

"You gonna stand out there like an idiot?" He looked at you point blank.

"You gonna ask me to come in like a decent host?" You shoot back.

Maybe you didn't need the buffer of everyone else to hang out with your friend.

Explaining his mom and sister had gone to go get things for dinner as well as pick his grandma up. The offer to stay for a home cooked meal was extended to you quickly. Apprehensive to accept seeing as things were going well now but maybe not so much later. You didn't want to overstay your welcome. Tobio really wasn't going to take no for an answer. Even repeating that dinner was going to be served and it was one of your favorite concoctions Mrs. Kageyama made. Unsure of the last time you had a home cooked meal like that. You begrudgingly accept because your stomach really did speak up for you.

First met with the fear of how long you and Tobio might be alone together. It thankfully wasn't enough time for you to stick your foot in your mouth. Both his sister and mom showed up with grandma Kageyama in tow. All three women more than excited to see you since it'd been a few months since you stopped by. Tobio's mom showering you in affection as her 'good' child seeing as you came to visit far more than her son. A cranky Tobio argued that he lived all the way in Germany there was just no 'coming over' to visit. He hardly won that argument.

Much like the times in high school when you came over. Mrs. Kageyama asked if you would help with dinner. Extending an extra set of hands to meal prep meant you did find a bit of a buffer from being left alone with Tobio for too long. Ironically though instead of spending his time on his phone or something capturing his attention on the tv. Tobio was in the kitchen with the rest of the family helping with what little prep there was to spare between the four of you.

He really was shit at cooking but it was cute to watch the world renowned setter get scolded by his mom even at this age. Each time you giggled he'd shoot you a glare that only lasted a few seconds. Unable to hold it as his cheeks would gain a dusting of pink and he'd just huff and go back to doing it better like his mom told him to.

This felt good. This felt like home. It had been a while since you felt like this.

"And dinner is done!" Mrs. Kageyama was happy to announce the mini feast. More than you ever thought was needed for a dinner. You suspected maybe her son being home had something to do with it. Though with how much she made you expected some more visitors. That was dashed though when you realized he still ate like a horse. Snickering you won't deny Mrs. Kageyama knew what she was doing in the kitchen. Everything you eat feels like a warm hug. And that wasn't just the beer you had with dinner speaking for you. This really felt amazing.

"Hey," Tobio stood above you once he'd clear the table after his mom and sister said they'd be back after dropping grandma Kageyama off, "You want another?"

A second you realize he's looking down at the empty beer in front of you, "Um-"

"I was gonna have another anyways," Tobio gives you an answer before you can have a chance.

Matching cans he brings you one but mentions he's going to go sit outside for a bit. Wondering if you'd like to come with. Stuffed with dinner you were pretty sure you could move if you forced yourself to. So you find yourself trailing him to the back patio ever so familiar to you.

Outside looks so much different than you remember. No more volleyball net. The sets of poles gone. No random volleyballs left out or scattered everywhere. You'd seen this yard a million times since graduation but for some reason it felt weird sitting out there with the volleyball fanatic himself and not a single volleyball in his grasp.

The crack of his beer reminds you of the one in your grasp. Following suit you open your own and take a sip before setting it on the table next to his. Alone together but you could do this.

"...how long you planning on staying?" Out of everything, he hadn't told you how long his little vacation was going to last this time.

"I don't know." A very unlike him answer. You turned to him just to see Tobio looking out at the yard in front of the both of you with a glazed over look.

"What about the team? Did everyone come back with you too?" Figuring everyone was on break then, Kōrai, Wakatoshi and Fukurō must have come back to visit family too since they weren't a bother in the last video call you had together.

"I don't know." Again with the vacant look. Tobio was earning a scowl from you now. He only had a single beer with dinner too so he had no excuse to be this spacy. Seconds away from getting the grumpy side of you, he turns to meet your gaze, "I took a little bit of time off."

Wow.

There hadn't been anytime off since graduations. Not any on purpose that was. Tobio had been moving forward to make sure he wasn't left behind just like the others did after graduating. Getting to where he was now was no easy feat. For him to take a break was utterly concerning.

"Did something happened? With the guys? The Schweiden team are-"

"No, it was my choice." Tobio looked at you then down to your pair of drinks, "I had something bothering me."

"Alright you know what-" Huffing you square up with him across the patio table, "What the hell? First you don't tell me when you're getting here. Then you get here hours early and don't tell me. Your mom made you re-chop the garlic twice and you didn't say anything. And you haven't mentioned harassing Shoyo over the phone one time. What's up with you?"

Blue eyes staring at you from across the table. Much like the way he stared at you the day he told you he'd be going to Germany. Unlike then the stomach lurking feeling you got from that day didn't measure up to now. Tobio's fixed expression unreadable on his familiar yet so different face. You were looking at your friend but someone entirely new in front of you all at once.

Between the time you waited for an explanation and when he moved forward. Time sped up. His lips against yours before you knew it. In a moment so fleeting that you weren't able to do anything but stare at him when he came back into your full line of sight.

The way you didn't say anything sent him into the first real glimpse of an old fumbling fool, "Oh god no! I- That wasn't- Shit wait y/n no I-"

"You-" the word bubbled in your throat all at once, "-kissed me."

His blue eyes grew huge and the setter looked down at the lips of your hardly touched beer can, "I- Wait listen ok I-"

"Again."

"What?"

"Kiss me again."

Tobio's eyes darted up from the cans. You were looking at him. The same way you did across the gym all those years ago. With such a conviction that his skin tingled with lively vibrance nothing in the world compared to. He could feel his hairs stand on end like they were saluting you. And he bit his lip once nervously expecting you to back down. When you didn't though. He knew he had to.

Slowed down from before. To take a moment to savor everything about it lost in the urgency of the first one. Tobio's lips met yours like they were old friends. Kiss as tender as you imagined. It wasn't until your hands were up cupping his face. And his fingertips grazed the skin of your cheek as he did the same. Did you really make the realization of the knot of nerves in your stomach loosening all at once.

"...I came back to see you." Tobio confessed against your lips. He found his words even though he reluctantly didn't want the kiss to end, "I couldn't focus and- I wasn't doing great at practice- Things were off I just couldn't-"

"We talk every day," You give that out like it's the same. You're a liar if anything. None of it was the same and none of it would be the same now they you had the buzz of his lips against yours, "I don't understand- We just-"

"I think I love you-" Tobio blurted.

No going back now.

Cheeks as red as the day you first kissed his knuckles after nationals. Tobio could only blink a few dozen times as it was hard enough to think of the right words when he was focused. Now his mind was leaving him at a million miles an hour and everything he'd rehearsed was for nothing in this very moment. All Tobio could think of was the hum of your lips against his. Comparing it to how he always imagined it would feel. And realizing now, it was so much better than that.

He swore he could see his reflection in your eyes. Quickly Tobio tried to recoup the plan he had made on the plane ride, "I just- Hold on ok- It's just- Ever since we were kids- I guess a long time- And being in Germany- It feels weird away- I love it but it doesn't feel completely right- I came back to see you and- I didn't mean it exactly like-"

"I love you too." The words swelled in your chest like a school girl. Here you were in your twenties confessing like a fool. Somehow it felt better than keep it all in these years. You find more to go along with just blurting that out like he did, "I mean- I think I've known for a while- A long while. This feeling, I don't know a lot of things I guess since I don't travel the world like you. Even when you were so far away I couldn't shake this-"

All over again and for only the third time in a lifetime. Tobio leaned in and kissed you. Practice making perfect with him like always. This time his hands found yours to squeeze them tight. Fingers wrapping around your palms with the warm of them taking over your hands.

Tobio was slow. He waited an entire plan ride plus almost a decade to do this. Through break downs or break throughs, your lips lit up more in him than anything your name in his contacts could ever do.

#hq!!#hq #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #hq kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #hq fluff

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missjanjie · 3 years

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Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.

#gimone #rosnali #rpdr rpf #i promise everything else will be present day unless its something important lol

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

two paper airplanes flying;

full masterlist

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Word count: 8,537 (yes you got that right)

Warning: smut!!! exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: ransom drysdale will always find you, no matter where you are. always.

a/n: this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s dark writing challenge. i chose prompt #24 “Character A is starting over. What happens when their past catches up to them?” hey there! i knowwww that the word count probably shocked the hell out of you cause it did me too. i got so lost in writing this fic that i ended up writing over 8k+ but honestly, this was really fun to write and i’ve been thinking of writing about ransom for awhile! so i hope you like it! please leave a like and comment.

You stepped into your apartment unit, as you hauled the very last box of your belongings with your foot, due to its ponderosity. You were wearied from the hours you spent on moving in. And you hadn't even set everything up in place yet. You simply had to worry about getting all of the boxes out of the moving truck now.

You thanked the mover for helping you with all the commodity that was partially carried by them into your unit. You tipped them off and said your goodbye.

You closed the door behind you and you sighed. You immediately slumped yourself down on the couch, trying to regain the energy you had receded. You threw your head back as you closed your eyes. Your thoughts drifted to the chaos that had coerced you into escaping to the big city and run away.

Free. Free from the town, free from the drama, free from him.

You had been dating Ransom Drysdale for three months now. Your families were well-acquainted since you were only kids. Well, Ransom was several years older than you, but the first time you met him was when he was nothing but a fresh-faced, ambitious young man who had been spoiled by his parents since he was still in Linda Drysdale's womb.

Even as kids, he would often flirt with you, and make stupid jokes that used to elicit a chuckle out of you. At family gatherings, he would often ask you to play hide and seek and he always succeeded in locating you, no matter how clever you think you are at hiding. There's not a single hiding spot that you hadn't attempted to hide yourself in, that he failed to find. "I will always find you." He once said.

Years later, you remained good friends, despite the alteration in his demeanor. He became more impertinent. He grew into a charismatic, presumptuous, dashing young man who used snarky remarks as his weapon in family events. He was aware of his indisputable good looks. He utilized it as the power to lure any woman into his bed and that gave him even more reason to his entitlement.

He never once had to look for a job, because he knew his parents were incapable of cutting him off. Just like how he made you incapable of resisting him one night after you went back to Boston after you graduated for Thanksgiving break. You wanted to take a little break and spend some time in your hometown before you start your own clothing line that you've dreamt about since you were a toddler who was obsessed with Barbie dolls and dressing them up.

You'd always pretend that you were Barbie and Ransom was Ken. Silly little you.

You knew damn well that spending Thanksgiving with your family would be a bad idea. You had this tradition, that on every Thanksgiving, your family would celebrate it with the Thrombeys. And you knew Ransom would be there. He would make a magnetic entrance, with his nose up high and a tantalizing scowl on his face, showcasing his intact ego.

Ransom sat next to you on Thanksgiving dinner as he would every year. You were wearing a beige-colored, off the shoulder knitted-sweater dress. Ransom would openly flirt with you in front of your parents, despite being aware that your parents strongly opposed the idea of you dating him. They respected his family, but not his notorious reputation. That's why they would never say anything incriminating that would cause a strain between your family and his, in front of them. So they'd pretend to smile and nod along.

You had warned Ransom many times to take it slow on the PDA when your parents are around. You have told him that they weren't too keen on you being together. And so, Ransom took it as a challenge. He would put his hand on your thigh, as you try to swat him away. The more you try to resist, the harder he would try to tease you. He loved seeing you struggle under his touch and he wanted to see you fall apart in front of the entire family. Because he was an asshole who got off on your humiliation.

Ransom would slowly lift your dress as Richard and your father exchanged stories of how their business empires had been doing. He would push it even harder when Meg would make a conversation about university life as a fellow college student, of course, she'd confide in you regarding the stress exams and assignments. You were practically sisters. She trusted you more than her own cousins; Ransom and Jacob.

Ransom would keep retreating his hand onto your thigh to hike up your dress and to insert his fingers into your private parts. He would smirk when you couldn't impede him anymore. He would slowly rub your wet core and feel you under his touch. It made you squirm in your seat, as you try to concentrate on what Joni was flaunting about. She was talking so highly about a new deal she made with a skin-care company that asked her to advertise their overpriced products or something.

Ransom would peek his eyes to the side to watch your struggle, as you try not to choke on your drink. You tried to calm your nerves by gulping a glass of wine. It didn't help, his fingers were now moving so furiously that if everybody stopped talking, the whole room would be able to hear the obscene sounds of your drenched pussy against your panties.

He kept circling your bud as you try not to crumble from orgasm in front of your entire family. You held yourself back by covering your mouth as your moans were pleading to be vocalized. Meg detected the agitation on your face, from the way you sweat nervously, despite the cold air in the room. From the way you were fidgeting in your seat and the way you were a little silent from the usual.

"Y/N, are you okay? You look a little unwell."

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Meg, ju- just... Cramps. That's all." You cleared your throat.

She nodded at that, but the look on her face told you that she didn't believe you were telling the whole truth, but she was going to let it slide.

Joni carried on with her interrupted vaunting about her best-dressed award or something. Your head started to become hazy from the impending climax that was about to hit you like a hurricane. Just a few more vigorous rubs from Ransom's skillful fingers, and then you fell apart.

You hunched yourself down slightly to hide the orgasmic look on your face, as your release drenched both your underwear and his palm. You tried to slow your breathing down by staying still in place, as you relish in the aftermath of your displayed euphoria.

Everyone was still unaware of what just happened, and you were glad of it. There's no way you'd be able to face your parents alone if they knew Ransom had inappropriately groped you under the table on Thanksgiving dinner. The look on their faces would make you wish the earth would swallow you so you'd vanish from the face of the earth.

You excused yourself, saying that you needed to use the bathroom. And you weren't exactly lying, you did need to use the bathroom. For an unspeakable reason. To make it less conspicuous, Ransom waited for a few minutes to join you.

He excused himself and followed you to the bathroom. You were cleaning yourself up when Ransom knocked on the door. You immediately knew that trouble was paying you a visit. You opened the door and his Carolina blue eyes greeted you. You exchanged nothing but glances for a moment there, then he grabbed your face in his big hands and pressed his lips onto yours brutally as if his life depended on it.

He backed your body with his and pressed you to the bathroom sink. Your makeout session didn't stop until he decided to turn your figure around in the swift motion of his hands, and he lifted up your skirt abruptly and ripped apart your panties. He threw it on the marble bathroom floor.

His broad figure was towering over you, and you had never felt so tiny against a man before. He stared into the reflection of your eyes on the mirror before he made the next move. He then pushed his finger onto your clit and shamelessly rubbed you there, stimulating you for the second time, as if you weren't soaked in excitement already.

"I've barely done anything to you and you're already soaking wet..." He chuckled condescendingly. You shut your eyes in pleasure, couldn't suppress the moans on your lips.

"You secretly like it when my fingers are buried deep in your cunt, in front of your parents, don't you. What a dirty girl."

You were too lost in the feel of his fingers to answer him. The truth is, you have wanted him for as long as you could remember. You remember 10 years old you were giddy whenever your parents told you that the Thrombeys were coming over. You had the biggest crush on Ransom since you were basically a toddler. You never said anything to him though, fearing that it would ruin the friendship. And what if... He didn't feel the same way? What if instead of reciprocating the declaration, he laughs on your face and turns his back on you?

So you buried your feeling deep until you entered your teenage years. Never hinting a single clue that you were into him. Even during his teenage years, you both went into the same school. One of the top private schools in Massachusets, the best both of your parents could possibly afford. Money was never part of your family's problem and Ransom could relate.

You watched him breaking girls' hearts here and there, throughout his adolescent years. He and you remained close for sure, but in school, he barely acknowledged you. He would always pretend that he didn't really know you well. And oftentimes, that would irk you, to the point where you'd neglect his texts and phone calls for days. When he couldn't come over, he would either text or call you, treasuring your companion through the small device.

But he went over the line, you'd always give him a silent treatment. You wanted him to know that you were exasperated at his actions. When his texts and calls remained unanswered, then he would try to FaceTime you, but that too went ignored. You'd decide to read his texts without replying, trying to give him even a harder lesson.

Deep inside of your heart, you knew that you technically had no right to be mad at him. He had the right to date any girl he wanted, or to sleep with any girl he wanted. You weren't in a committed relationship, you barely had feelings for each other. Well, for him. Not for you, you were steep in love with him, and yet, you couldn't say or do anything about it. You were screwed, and you couldn't get yourself out of the quicksand.

But you told yourself that this was for the best. Maybe if you keep ignoring him, you will slowly learn how to get over him. You needed some space and maybe, just maybe, with the absence of his presence, you could find a way to accept that what you had was merely friendship and nothing more, nothing romantic.

The next day, after you neglected him all night, he would come up to you and confronted you about it at school. "What the hell happened? Why did you ignore me last night? I tried to call and text you a thousand times and you didn't fucking answer!"

You scoffed at his anger. Seriously? He wanted to go there? He wanted to act as if you owed him an explanation? "I don't have to answer you if I don't want to, Ransom. Now step away, I'm late to class."

He didn't flinch. He stood still and persisted in blocking you from leaving him. He grabbed your biceps, not too harsh but enough to hear him. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on your period or something?"

You stared at him incredulously. Is he seriously this stupid? There was no point in trying to give him a lesson, he was too inconsiderate and proud to care about your feelings anyway. "Get the fuck away from me, Ransom. Just move, please, I need to get to class."

"I am not letting you go until you explain why you're acting like this! Just tell me what did I do? Did I say something wrong?" His tone softened. The look on his face told you that he was desperate to fix whatever the hell was wrong between you two, even if he didn't really have a clue whether something was really wrong or not.

"Move, or I will call the principal." The principal didn't intimidate him, none of the teachers did. He was trouble, parading around the halls like he owned the entire school. And he knew that his parents were capable of affording the entire school, that's why none of these teacher's threats could put him in fear. But he didn't want to cause a scene, especially in front of the whole school, where his reputation might be damaged.

"This conversation's not over, y/n."

You didn't give him a reaction and just walked past him, straight to class. A small part of your heart didn't want to leave him in the dark, but you also couldn't find a way to yell at him without making yourself look crazy, especially in front of the entire school.

So you put on this cold facade like you didn't really care about him and that you weren't in the mood to talk to him, hoping that he would figure it out himself. Maybe if you punished him long enough, he would have a change of heart. Deep down you know that it's wishful thinking. He had gone too deep into his fuckboy ways and there wasn't an ounce of regret in him about it. But you let your brain create these nonsensical scenarios, that once he realized that he had not cherished you in the way you deserved all this time, he would drive to your house and beg for your forgiveness, and you'd be the happiest couple in school. Maybe... Just maybe.

Years went by as you both kept playing this cat and mouse game. A perpetual cycle for the two of you. But eventually, one of you had to be the grown-up and cut it off.

Ransom took you from behind as he put a hand over your mouth to muffle the obscene noises coming out of your mouth. You couldn't help it, as much as you wanted to stay quiet and prevent your parents from catching you doing the dirty, his vigorous thrusts were too good, the friction of his shaft made your head spin.

Your knees buckled and if it weren't for his body pressing you tight against the sink, you would've crumbled to the floor already. He whispered filthy words into your ears, making you feel even more lightheaded. "You can not resist me, can you? Walking around in your designer dress, like you are this posh little princess, when I know you bury your fingers deep in your cunt every night wishing it was my cock instead..."

A few more deep-seated thrusts and you came apart. You threw your head back and rested it on his shoulder, as he sloppily pushed into you more trying to reach his own orgasm. He moved his hand that was blocking your moans to your hips. His unmerciful movements prolonged your release as he reached his.

You were spent from the intense eruption as he pulled himself out of you and stepped back, watching his fluids flow out of you like a celestial water fountain saturating its frame. He loved the picturesque view. You steadied yourself as your knees quivered. You gripped the sink tile of the sink and turned around to face him.

"Don't speak a word of this to anyone."

That made his grin grow wider, like the conceited asshole he was. "Aw, what's the matter, baby? You don't want anyone to know what a little whore you truly are?"

"Shut up. And wait here for at least 10 minutes."

You opened the door and lurked the halls, glad that no one was there to catch your shenanigans with Ransom.

You stepped out of the bathroom hurriedly and closed the door behind you quietly. You walked back to the dining room, as calm as you possibly could, despite the still lingering high from Ransom's cock, but you were good at mastering the impassive face.

Later that night, Ransom paid you another visit as you were doing your nighttime skincare routine, in your silk black robe. He quietly climbed through your window and knocked softly at the glass.

You were surprised to see him. What the hell is he doing here? Also, climbing up to your window? This isn't 9th grade and you two weren't fifteen anymore. But you opened the handle for him slightly and spoke before you let him in.

"What the hell are you doing here, Ransom? It's getting late and I'm exhausted."

"Oh, I bet you are, babygirl. After what I did to you this afternoon, I would've been worn out too." His voice teasing.

You shook your head at his stupid banter. "Shut up, and don't make any noise. My parents are sleeping next door. If you wake them up, I will act like you attacked me and let them call the cops on you."

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and you opened the door wider, to enable his enormous figure in. "What do you want Ransom, couldn't you just text or call me?" You folded your hands against your chest.

"I needed to see you again, and I actually have something to say to you."

You shrugged. "Okay, then tell me. What was so important that you couldn't call or text? Or FaceTime, it's really not that hard to ju-"

He shut you up by attacking your lips as he grabbed your face with his hands as he did earlier. You were slightly pushed back by his truculent action but he caught you and his tongue entered into your open mouth as it tangled with yours.

You were breathless from the sudden action. He kept on kissing you until he was running out of breath as he was satisfied with how swollen your lips were. You gulped as you gathered the cells in your brain that were scrambled gruffly by him back together again. You assumed he wanted sex because if there's anything that Ransom couldn't run low on, it's his stamina. And of course, being the manwhore that he is, he couldn't keep it in his pants for at least until the morning.

"Be my girl, baby."

"...What?" You backtracked your face to assess him, for you were taken aback by what he just said. The words 15 years old you were longing to hear, but not now. Not anymore.

The truth is, you had moved on. At least you thought you were. When you both went off to college, you went to separate universities, despite still staying in touch, you rarely saw one another. You got busy with unraveling the major that you were passionate about and made new friends who shared the same interests as you do. You even met a couple of cute boys that caught your eye.

Though they couldn't compare to Ransom's charm, they still lend a hand in helping you forget Ransom. You realized you couldn't be a teenager anymore and had to chase only what truly matters to you and what helps you grow.

Eventually, your feelings started to erode away, as your college days went by. Went on a few monotonous dates, went to parties with your friends, and studied hard for your grades. You had the whole world in your hands, and you weren't about to let anything or anyone, including Ransom, fuck it up. No, no, especially Ransom.

But every time you see him at annual celebrations or at family gatherings, his magnetism still pulls you in like gravity. So you decided to let loose and live your life, without fearing that you'd get deeper into your feelings because you've matured now, and you weren't going to be held back by your juvenile crush anymore.

"Ransom... How drunk are you?"

"What? No! I'm totally sober. Say yes, baby, I know you've wanted me since high school."

"Ransom, shut up. You are clearly drunk, and I need to sleep, alright?" You tried to push him playfully, knowing that he might hit the floor with a loud thud and it would risk your parents catching you both.

"I'm serious, y/n! Why do you think I came all the way over here just to talk to you? I want you, baby."

You scoffed at his antics. "Let me get this right... You want me, to be your girl?"

"Yes," he grabbed both of your hands and brought them close to his chest. You could feel his heartbeat's pace escalated, slowly but surely. You wanted to believe the look of longing in his eyes. A part of you believed that it was simply part of his charm; the way he'd gaze deeply into a girl's eyes and how he'd make them believe that he sincerely wants them, to only ruin their mascara and never to return their calls again.

But the other part of you wanted to believe that, after years of dynamic friendship, he truly yearned for you. That, after many meaningless hookups, he had realized that it couldn't fill the void inside him and that he couldn't find you in anyone else. Suddenly, the 15 years old girl in you revived. You remembered the old flame and you couldn't extinguish it now.

"I know I'm a little late, but c'mon. We've been fucking around for years and tell me, this afternoon didn't mean something to you. We'd make a great couple." He paused, giving you a moment to answer. He searched for it on your face, whilst waiting for your mouth to say the green-light word.

He then continued, replacing the silence with his beguiling persuasion. "So, what do you say, baby? I know you want this. I know you want me. We'll go on a date tomorrow and I'll pick you up at 7." The look on his ocean blue eyes confined you in spot, frozen the time. Like you were in a movie and the picture was put in slow-motion. You felt helpless under his words. You couldn't fake it anymore now, deep down you knew that you had always been his even when he didn't have a clue of it.

"Yes, Ransom, I want to be yo-" Before you could even finish your words, he cut you off by abruptly pressing his lips to yours and you were slightly shoved back from the sudden force. If he hadn't been holding you so tightly, you would've already landed on the floor. You opened your mouth to let his tongue enter as it gets tangled with yours. His hand immediately moved from your face to your thighs, lifting you up and you circled them around his waist.

He carried you to the bed, as his lips continued its misbehaving on you. He dropped on you the mattress, and untied your robes, revealing your naked body under it. You were wearing nothing but black lace underwear, that was soon torn off from your body, exposing your moist pussy too. His lips then move to your neck, kissing the sensitive spot that took your breath away.

He bit the skin hard to leave a hickey, stamping his mark on you. He kept on trailing open-mouthed kisses to your body, as he made a quick stop on your nipples, giving them extra attention. He sucked on the right one like a starved baby, as his other hand circled on your other one, and he pinched it hard, causing your body to jolt.

He made sure it was wet enough with his soaked with his saliva until he decided to move further down, as his other hand was still groping your other breast. Without wasting any more time, as soon as he reached your most sensitive part, he immediately licked a stripe on your bud, as he feasted like a deprived man.

His fingers unclasped your breast, as he shoved the two of them inside your heated core. You shrieked due to the shock, as your hand immediately muffle yourself, trying not to make any louder noise. He lifted his head to see the expression on your face, lost in pleasure as he kept on intruding in and out of you. "Shh, be quiet babygirl, or your parents are going to walk in on you creaming all over my fingers."

Your mind was hazy from the friction his fingers caused, you stared at his face through foggy lens, as his fingers went deeper and faster. It was getting harder and harder to hold back your moans. His words sounded obscure in your ears, as your brain was clouded with the tightening coil inside you. You couldn't think, you couldn't speak, you couldn't move under him. He truly had you wrapped around his fingers. Literally.

You felt yourself nearing the explosion, your hands immediately went around his shoulders as you hid your face on his neck, he sensed your impending release, so his thumb pressed itself to your clit and circled it, making you lose your damn mind. Just a couple more flicks, and you were a crumpled mess on the sheets. Your juices splattered all of over his hand, but it didn't stop moving in and out of you, prolonging the bliss.

After you started to cool down and recollect yourself, he pulled his hand out of you and he intensely gazed into your eyes whilst cleaning himself off your juices by sucking them clean, like a goddamn peanut butter Nutella.

He grinned like a devil who had just committed his greatest crime while you were a sweating, panting mess underneath him. "You taste better than those fucking Biscoff cookies, sweetheart." He kissed your mouth one more before he decided to get out of your bed. You rose from the bed too, as you followed him to the window. "Gotta go, it's getting late. Think you need to charge yourself, baby."

You chuckled, his wittiness always gets you. "I don't know, got a couple of unused toys in my drawers, I might need to see if they work."

"Don't you dare." His expression hardened, but you knew that he was playing along with your teasing.

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." You winked. His remark has backfired. "Now, leave, before, I call my daddy on you."

"Oh, babygirl, soon, your father won't be the only one you call daddy." If you were having a drink right now, you would've chocked on your water. Before you could retort, he ended the windup the night with a quick reminder, "Tomorrow, 7 pm. Dress up for me, yeah?" It was merely a rhetorical question, with an imperious intent. You both knew damn well you were going to dress up for him, he didn't have to ask twice to know the answer.

"I'll see you tomorrow." As he opened the window and quickly climbed down like a thief. How he managed to be as silent as a Ninja with his enormous figure, you'll never know. But he did it impeccably anyway.

You watched him through the window, as he opened the door of his car, and slid into the driver's seat. You two were practically the modern version of Romeo and Juliet. Your silliness whispered. Your hopeless romantic heart had associated the mundanity of life with fairytales and magical characters. You quickly shook those thoughts away as Ransom drove off his BMW and vanished into the night.

You laid in your bed that night, giddy with elation, like a teenage girl who had just been asked to go to prom with him by her crush. You tried to sleep off the exhaustion from the shenanigans had left you with. But despite feeling the weariness in your bones, you still couldn't resist the grin on your face. You eventually closed your eyes, replaying the way Ransom had touched you, kissed you, and fucked you earlier as you slowly drifted away to the land of dreams.

That's how your relationship with Ransom began. It only lasted for so long, until you both started arguing more and more every day. Whenever you had a big fight, you'd often threaten him by saying that you were going to leave, and when you actually dumped him, he always came back to your door, begging for forgiveness, wearing his best apologies.

Here's the upgraded cat and mouse game you two were playing again. Only this time, you two were caught in a narrower circle, that you both started. Him by asking you out, and you by agreeing to be his girl.

One morning, you were woken up by the news of Harlan Thrombey's death. To say you were shocked, was an understatement. Of course, you were aware that due to his age, his clock was ticking. It was only about a matter of time when you'll have to reminisce about your very last conversation with him.

You and Harlan were quite close. He was like the grandfather you never had. Your grandparents from your father's side died before you could even know them. Your grandparents from your mother's side lived on the other side of the world, and she didn't get along with them, due to your mother's ambitions of moving to the United States, and refused to follow her parents' footsteps in business. She pursued her own dreams and so, they totally cut her off.

But being the boss lady that your mother was, she managed to build her own empire, making her and your father 'a power couple', as one would say. Your mother met your father while they were in college, they got married after dating for three years, and had you, a year later.

You had always admired your parent's harmonious marriage. Your father could get a little too overambitious sometimes, and your mother had high expectations of you, but, you knew deep down they loved you and wanted nothing but the best for their one and only daughter. And most importantly, they were still madly in love with each other even after years of being married. It's very rare to find those these days.

You always wondered whether it was possible for you and Ransom to see a peak of light. Whether you could have what your parents have. A loving, committed, everlasting relationship. You used to think that you were going to marry Ransom eventually. That you might see a slow change in Ransom, but eventually, you were going to end up together, have kids, maybe two, a girl and a boy. You'll name them Florence and Nathan. Yeah, you had always loved those names.

But those fantasies spontaneously combust as soon as your relationship started to get rocky. Your faith in your future with Ransom was fading, and you were okay with that, maybe it's going to sting for a while, and you were going to cry on your bedroom floor, but you'll be fine. You'll move on and you'll meet someone else, someone better, someone wiser, someone kinder with your heart.

After the news of Harlan's unexpected death loomed over the house like a ghost, you quickly called Ransom. He didn't answer. You called him for the second time, and he finally picked up. "Hey, baby." His voice sounded too cheerful for someone who had just lost his grandfather. But then you remember that this was Ransom you were talking about. He didn't have an ounce of remorse or clemency in that cold heart of his.

"Hey, I just heard the news... How are you doing?"

"Harlan's death? Well, who are we kidding, it was just a matter of time anyway. That old bastard."

"Ransom, my parents told me everything. He didn't die to natural causes, he was murdered." Saying it still doesn't sound right. The flair for the dramatic, Harlan Thrombey. Death by cliche, like the murder mysteries novels he wrote.

"Unfortunately, but I guess he had it coming. Things already went South since the party anyway." He shrugged it off.

The party? Why would the conversation suddenly steer into the party?

The night's party before Harlan's death, you attended the family's mansion a little late, for you were feeling a little sick due to your menstruation cycle. The truth was, you didn't really wanna go anyway but you promised Ransom that you were going to see him and your parents that you weren't going to be rude.

By the time you were there, you didn't even get to see Ransom for he was arguing with Harlan in his small study room. So you went over to Meg to have a little chat with a glass of champagne in your hand. Suddenly, you spotted Ransom storming off Harlan's study as he picked up his jacket and ran to the door to God knows where. You didn't wanna be nosy, you figured Ransom would probably tell you about it later. But you were going to let him have some space, so you didn't try to stop him.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... What happened last night? In Harlan's study before you stormed off from the party?"

Silence faltered for a moment before he answered, "just Harlan's usual antics. It was no big deal, I promise you."

You doubted that he was telling you the full truth, but it was apparent to you that he wasn't interested in discussing this topic any longer, so you weren't going to push him. People grieve in different ways, and you were going to let him deal with it in his own ways.

"Alright, for whatever it's worth, I'm truly sorry. He was a good man."

"Yeah, I know, baby. Me too. I'll call you later, alright?"

"Okay." And the call ended.

Weeks went on as the investigation of the murder proceeded, Detective Benoit Blanc, Lieutenant Elliott, and Trooper Wagner were meticulously taking every step further to find out the truth, investigating every possible suspect, learning their motives thoroughly.

As those weeks went by, your suspicion of Ransom's innocence grew. Every time you ask about him, he'd quickly shut it off and redirect the topic. He told you once, that Harlan was going to cut him off his will and that from now on, he was going to have to fend for himself. That only raised more questions in your head; how was he going to fend for himself now, is he going to get a job? Did Harlan say something else that might've indicated his farewell?

And most importantly, the conveniently coincidental timing. This heated argument between them took place the night before Harlan's death. Your curiosity grew about what really went down in his study...

The news broke when you were sitting in your spacious study, filled with books of your favorite authors. Romance novels, Sci-Fi books, business books, fashion books, etc. You like to keep yourself educated. You had just ended a phone call with a potential investor of your future clothing line when your mother knocked on your door and you let her in. There was a flash of disturbance on her face.

"Sweetheart, have you heard yet?" She approached you and put her hands on your shoulders, trying to comfort you before you even knew what she was trying to comfort you from.

"No, heard about what?"

"Ransom has been arrested. For Harlan's murder. Detective Blanc figured everything out. He also confessed of killing Fran, their help."

You squinted your eyes at her statement. "...What?" You felt like you had been struck by a thunder amidst your serene beauty sleep.

"I'm truly sorry, sweetheart. But your father and I knew that he was bad news. You should've never associated with him since a long time ago."

"He's my childhood friend, mom. You and Dad are close to the Thrombeys. How do you expect me not to be associated with him?"

"I know, but we never concurred on you two dating. His reputation precedes him."

You felt like you were going to vomit, you couldn't believe your own ears. You always knew that Ransom was a rascal by nature, but the fact that he was capable of murder dumbstruck you. And the fact that he murdered his own grandfather made you question whether he had a drop of empathy and remorse at all in that frozen heart of his.

"Where is he now, mom?"

"He's currently in custody. Detective Elliott and Trooper Wagner are questioning him for his statement."

And that's how you ended up here, in New York City, relocating your personal belongings to your brand-new place that you refer to as home. You kept recalling that night when you were finally ready to talk to him after he pleaded guilty of committing Harlan's murder.

A big part of you loathed him. A murderer. He wasn't just a man with bad intentions and bad behaviors, but he was willing to go as far as taking someone else's life if they don't grant him his wishes. Money really brings out the worst in people.

But another part of you yearned for him. Yearned for his benign words and sincere touches exchanged during late-night conversations after he fucked you like an animal in your bed. Or at his place, where he'd ask you to stay because he knew how drained you were after he made you cum three times... At least.

Things were often convoluted and acrimonious between the two of you, but when it's good, it's as gentle as the autumn breeze and as steady as Wednesday evenings in Boston. It's ironic, really, how you moved to the city that epitomized the chaos part of your shattered relationship.

For now, you were okay. You were dealing with the split at your own pace, whilst your mind was constantly calculating your next move to start your own clothing line. Making calls and closing deals here and there. Nightly meetings in fancy restaurants of Manhattan. Invariably sketching up the spontaneous designs that appear in your head.

But your heart discreetly missing him. When the buzzing of the city was boisterous and the lights are sparkling like a Christmas tree, you wished that he was here with you instead of being locked up in prison. You loved New York and you had been dreaming of moving there for as long as you could remember. You just wished that someone was there to share the beauty of the city with you.

Like one night when your parents were out of town, and Ransom came over to your house. You had passionately made love in the dark that night, and as always, after he was finished with you, he'd hold you close to his chest as he strokes your hair and his other hand was placed behind his head, displaying his hard rock chest.

"You ever thought about getting out of Boston?"

"Any place you have in mind?"

"New York City. I've always loved the big city life, you know? The town that never sleeps and the endless opportunities that await."

"You're thinking about moving there?"

"...Yeah. I wanna start my own clothing line, Ransom. I don't wanna live off of my parents' trust fund forever. I wanna be my own person and New York seems like the best city to start off."

"I can't stop you if you that's what you really want but, we're gonna have to figure things out."

"What if I move to New York and you stay? How would we make this work?"

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out... I'll find you. I'll always find you."

When you were finally ready to have an one-on-one with him, you went to visit him. You put on your black coat and your Chanel sunglasses to hide your own face, not wanting to be recognized by people.

He walked into the visitation room and sat on the phone booth in his neon orange attire. His raven hair was slicked back, as neat as ever. How he managed to still look like an entitled, trust-fund brat whilst locked up in prison, you'll never know.

"You've finally come to see me."

"I'm not here to see you. I'm here to talk to you."

"C'mon sweetheart, cut me some slack here, I've been accused of my own grandfather's murder and you were going to act like a bitch on your first visitation? It's been months and I've fucking missed you."

"Shut up, Ransom. I don't wanna hear any more lies coming out of that mouth of yours. You are a fucking murderer, how could you? And your own grandfather? What kind of wretch does that?"

"That old bastard had it coming when he decided to cut me out. You think I'll let him get away with it? Hell no. That's my money! My birthright! He couldn't just-"

"Ransom, I'm breaking up with you." You interrupted his grievance.

He paused for a moment as if he was digesting the words you just unloaded on him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. I'm breaking up with you. I do not wanna be associated with a murderer."

Suddenly, his palm struck the glass with a roar so harsh, it nearly staggered. The look on his face was murderous and his breathing labored. And in that moment, you had no doubt that he was indeed a murderer. The way his temper could strike at any time when he wasn't getting his way, you saw it with translucent eyes now.

"You are not breaking up with me, you hear me? I'm getting out of here and I'll find you. I will always find you."

"Goodbye, Ransom." And just like that, you terminated the ties that linked the two of you like a string on a puppet. Your entire history; two decades worth of whirlwind of emotions, resolved at the very last place you'd ever expected yourself to be. You rise from your seat and left him to rot in prison for his sins.

You kept yourself busy, chasing your ambitions to life. You kept reminding yourself that Ransom was exactly where he was supposed to be. You made a vow to yourself that you weren't going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of you and your dream career, and you were going to live by that.

One night, you had just returned to your apartment from a meeting with your PR team for your clothing line company. The meeting went well and they were positive that your marketing & advertising plans will succeed in shaping the brand's excellent image.

You took off your Louboutin heels and put them on the shoe racks where all of your other shoes were neatly organized, from your sneakers, sandals, boots, and wedges. The apartment was still dark, but you could see through the city lights from the window, and because you had been living there for weeks now, you had memorized every inch of your place well enough to move around blindfolded.

You switched on the lights to your left, and that's when it echoed.

Him. His voice. Vanquishing the stillness of the room.

Shivers ran down your spine, like the cold midnight air of New York, assailing you when you were clad in nothing but bare. Just like how he pounced you out of the blue when your guard was down to the point where you had even forgotten why you had it in the first place.

"I see New York has been treating you well."

He stood there by the window, staring out into the bustling city, with a black trench coat hung flawlessly over his broad shoulders. His hands were deep in his pocket. You could only see the back of his head, but you knew if he turned around, you would see the insincerity in his words.

You stood there frozen in place, not believing your own eyes. The man you had come to fear; a murderer, who was imprisoned for his heinous crimes... He was standing in your very own apartment, on your wooden floors, waiting for you to come home.

Despite the low temperature of the room, you were sweating. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't make a sound. You just witnessed as horror plays out, calculating its next move to imperil you.

He turned around, and that's when you saw it. His face displayed nothing but hollowness, Antarctica blue eyes pierced right into your soul. Like a spear shot right through the center of your heart.

“Ransom… How did you…?” Your breathing labored.

“You’re breaking up with me, you said?” He started walking towards you, deliberately. With every step his shoes thumped the ground, your heart raced, faster than the rogue wave washing over people on the shore.

You gulped. Your feet unconsciously withdrew you, as his figure was getting closer. You kept rewinding until your back hit the door, as you realized there’s no more room for you to run. Your hand immediately reached for the doorknob, but it was too late. Ransom had already seized it first, sealing your hand from turning it around as you run out of his grasp, once more.

He knew he will outrun you but he wasn’t going to take that risk. He was a man in hiding after all. He stealthily tracked you down in New York, without anyone’s knowledge, and wasted no time in paying you an unwanted visit to your apartment. He was a resourceful man, and once he set his mind on something, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it.

And he wanted you. Oh, how much he had missed you.

His other hand leaned on the door, right by your head, caging you with his body, trapping you right where he wanted you. But not for long.

“If you try to scream or run, I’ll make sure you’ll never see another light of day, sweetheart.” He whispered eerily into your ears. The hairs stood up in the back of your neck.

You weren’t going to be a fool and try to hit him or escape, knowing what he’s capable of. So you slowly unclasped the doorknob, and you pressed your forehead to the door, trying to shield yourself from this bloodthirsty beast.

Without saying another word, Ransom grabbed a full fist of your hair as he pulled you by your shoulder and directed you towards the capacious window, presenting a pellucid view of the city and how very much awake the pedestrians are.

Your hands palmed the window so your face wouldn’t hit the wall so hard, you might have a concussion. His hand moved to your back as it started to pull down the zipper of your dress. You tried to break free out of him, get him off your back, but you couldn’t, knowing that he could effortlessly overpower you.

“Don’t you fucking think of doing anything stupid, little girl. What did I warn you?”

Then you stopped thrashing around, as tears started to brim in your eyes. You tried to muffle your cries, not wanting to show him he had nearly broken you, but you couldn’t help the impotence. He brutally stripped the dress out of you, not caring if the fancy material might get lacerated.

Then he removed his own coat, and dropped it on the floor, as he used his leg to sweep both of your attires further away from your stance. The chilly night air overrun your skin, as you felt so exposed under his presence. You could hear the clinking sound of his belt, as he pulled down his pants and briefs and he moved to yours, tearing the material off of you.

Without any warning, he pushed himself inside of your wet core, feeling the slick easing him in and out of you. His hand returned to grab a fistful of your hair as he pulled back your head so he could grab you by the throat as he made you look into his eyes, whilst his other hand went to your hip, knowing full well that it could imprint a bruise on you. He then pressed his body into yours even tighter, to exhibit your bare body as he put on your breasts on full display for the entire city to see.

He slides in and out of you so easily, as his hips paced faster and unrelenting. “You really think you can run from me, huh? You must be delusional. You are mine and mine only. Always will and always be. You can’t fucking get rid of me.” He gritted through his rigorous thrusts.

You moaned in pain, as you could feel your humiliation wearing down on you. Your tears started to run down your cheeks, as your mascara got ruined along the way. Your head with clouded with shame and illicit lust.

“Let’s show the entire New York fucking City that you are mine, huh? That you are nothing but a dirty little cum-whore that belongs to me.”

You wailed louder, the mixture of pain, lust, and degradation overwhelmed you, inundating your lungs with water like you were drowning in the ocean. You squeezed his cock as you could feel your climax approaching, the fire in the pit of your stomach was ready to give in and explode. But you weren’t. You didn’t want to hand over your pleasure and give him the satisfaction of using you.

You were only human after all and the friction in your most pleasurable spot stole away all your power and strength to deny him as you yielded. A few more strokes and you crumbled. Your release washed over you and took over your body. Euphoria clogged in your brain, making you unable to think of anything else but him. His relentless thrusts that kept going prolonged your release as he tried to chase his own orgasm.

Then he let go, all the frustration, stress and anger, he unleashed all of them inside of you as he stayed still for a few minutes, making sure every drop of his cum stay inside you and none gets spilled to waste.

He breathed into your hair, as your panting didn’t slow down. You struggled with catching your breath as the glow of the moon reflected over your sweaty chest, exhibiting your exploited nudity. Your brain couldn’t even remember that you were standing on full display for you were too trounced by euphoria.

“I told you… I’ll always find you.”

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boopsterliv · 2 years

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Here’s a little fic with the prompt: “it’s just an innocent kiss.” (Part of a list made by @screnwriter)!

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“You know, we could always kiss and run off, so they think we’re shagging.”

At that comment, John nearly spit out his drink. He swallowed it before it ended up on the floor and turned to look at Gideon, who had a completely stoic face compared to the sentence she just uttered out.

“Are you... are you serious, love?”

At that she smiled a little. “Dead serious. We need a diversion if we’re ever going to get out of here. Not to mention we already got all the information we need.”

When Gideon had called him and said they were going to get some incriminating stuff on her family, John had been ready to go for it. He hated the Druce family just as much as she did. He had heard the story of Gideon’s ‘family’ many times before. She was the only biological child, and lived in a big house with her parents Zaman and Priscilla, uncle Declan (who was just her father’s business partner), her adopted sister, Eve, and later on in her teens, her adopted brother Mick Rory. He had agreed to be a witness in the potential court case but didn’t want anything to do with this operation. Eve couldn’t exactly be trusted with the task, so Gideon took it upon herself to get this done. And John tagged along as her date to this incredibly fancy charity gala. For the booze and satisfaction of taking down the Druce crime family and not because Gideon was in an incredibly attractive dress. Obviously.

If this had been when they first met, he would’ve gladly kissed Gideon. But over the years he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to casually give her a kiss anymore. Because of... reasons.

“Not sure about doing that, love. It’d be strange to kiss one of my mates.”

A quick flash of disappointment was in her eyes (did he imagine that?), but her smile grew into a smirk, she lowered her lashes, and her voice got to the octave it always did when she was trying (and succeeding) to sound sexy. “Come on, Johnny. It’s just an innocent kiss. Unless... you don’t want it to be?”

John Constantine doesn’t blush. His face was just... really warm. That’s what it was. Probably nothing. “Look, Gideon, I-”

“Gideon!” Eve was walking over, dragging her husband Gilbert behind her as he looked at something on his phone. Gideon didn’t turn to look. She glanced up at his eyes, some foreign look in her own, and in half a second kissed him.

They both froze, waiting for the other person to do something. But then he was curving his arms around her waist and she was cradling his jaw and if they weren’t in a ballroom right now it’d be bloody hot as hell. Their eyes closed, and for ten seconds flat the entire world disappeared. They weren’t in a ballroom getting evidence to take down a powerful crime family. They weren’t being approached by Gideon’s sister and brother-in-law. They were in some make believe space kissing like their lives depended on it.

Eve slowed down her walking, and when Gideon felt she was close enough, she opened her eyes and pulled back from John, as confident as ever and acting like she hadn’t just kissed one of her best friends. “Yes, dear?”

“I was coming over to ask if we can get lunch sometimes. But I’ll just text you about it since you’re... busy.”

“Sounds great, Evie. You go on and have a good night.” She then grabbed John’s arm and he more or less was in a trance as she pulled him out to the car in the garage. She took the flash drive from out of her hidden dress pocket and pulled her hair out of its way too fancy bun.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Let’s get this to the police.”

John nodded as she started up the car (he didn’t even have his license), silent and still comprehending what had just happened. She had kissed him. He had kissed her. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to see that look in her eyes every time she saw him, the one that would probably make him nearly faint with how strong and yet gentle it was. His heart kept beating so fast and he felt ten times lighter than he did before the evening started and his mind was running through fantasies in which they went out on dates-

And fuck, he was in love with her.

#if anyone is wondering #priscilla is a standin for the pilgrim #hellship #gideon #john constantine #modern au #fake dating #idiots in love #legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow fanfiction #fanfiction #not beta read

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rudysrings · 4 years

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Twin Pogues of the OBX - 2

A/N: Ayyy. Seems like no one hates the concept so I decided to go ahead and continue... Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of sex, guns, slow burn

Word count: 3190

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

Once you reached the depth of the boat, you released the anchor, letting it fall out of view. You swam across the Grady-White, looking for anything worth collecting, hoping not to find a body, especially your dad’s body.

Near the floor of the bow of the boat, there where keys. You swiftly picked them up, your lungs beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen. You worried that you would take an involuntary gasp of air, so you turned back with only the keys. You wondered how the keys didn’t get lost during the storm.

You broke the surface with the keys in your hand, brushing your hair back from your face. Your friends were over the side of the boat and John B let out a sigh of relief.

Kiara huffed too, “Oh my god, that took forever.”

Pope asked if you had found any dead bodies and you shook your head no. You saw JJ mutter something to himself and look at you with slight guilt. You were gone awhile. He probably thought he had pushed you to your death.

You hoisted yourself up onto the bow and swung your legs over.

When you told the rest of the pogues that what you had found was a motel key, they seemed slightly discouraged and sarcastic that that was what you had salvaged.

Kiara suggested that you guys report the wreck to the coast guard, hoping for a finder’s fee.

On your way there, JJ approached you at the bow, his hand resting on your shoulder. You turned, and he looked at the deck.

He patted your shoulder and pulled his lips inside his mouth, making his face resemble a monkey’s.

“I’m glad you didn’t, ah, drown or something, aight?” He patted your shoulder awkwardly and walked away before you could even respond to that extremely random statement.

You heard Pope laugh at him, slapping his head, “Dude, glad she didn’t drown? Is that the best you can do?” JJ stopped his laughing real quick with a hard shove to the shoulder.

“Ay, shut the hell up, will ya?”

Going back to your beer, you turned back to the water. Kiara nudged your shoulder. “JJ’s right you know, that wasn’t rational.”

You smirked, swirling the last of the beer at the bottom of the bottle. You wrinkled your nose as you realized it was probably just backwash. You took a swig anyways, “Since when am I rational, Kie?”

Kie scoffed, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You could have died you wretch!”

You shrugged, tossing the bottle aside, “And? Wouldn’t have been the worst way to go. Y’all would have had a helluva story to tell, eh?”

“Story, what the fuck, Y/N?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. Her nurturing reminded your brother. “Honestly, you and John B are the same person. Just gender swapped. You’d be amazing together. I’d never escape your combined mothering powers.” You watched your legs swing over the edge of the boat, something that was far from safe but kept you on edge in a good way. You saw Kiara’s blush and smirked. “Diving was fun, anyways.”

Kiara pursed her lips. “Honestly, you guys are perfect for each other, too.”

You weren’t entirely sure what she meant, but you had a good idea. You knew asking questions would simply draw more attention, so you decided to let it slide.

When you reached the coast guard, John B and JJ went inside to notify them, trying to make their way through the loud crowd.

You crossed your arms as you waited with Kiara and Pope. Pope was staring at you intently and eventually you had enough of it. “What is it, Pope? Why are you looking at me like one of those corpses you so badly want to study?”

Pope didn’t flinch at my obvious attempt to deflect the conversation. “You gonna keep pulling shit like you did back there?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You said.

Kiara raised her eyebrows as Pope said. “Even if you don’t, I think you should know that John B’s blood pressure can’t take you risking life and limb to check out a goddamn boat wreck.”

You rolled your eyes, “I think I know what my own brother’s blood pressure can take, but thanks for the evaluation, Pope.” You brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, folding your arms, “Besides, it’s not like my blood pressure can take John B’s constant delusions that our dad’s not dead at the bottom of the ocean somewhere.”

“Y/N!” Kiara hissed at my bluntness.

You held your hands outward, questioning, “What? We all know it’s true.”

Just then, John B and JJ returned, JJ saying, “Well, that went well. So what’s the plan?”

John B insisted that you guys check out the motel room that those keys opened, Kiara agreed to be look out.

As you guys pulled up to the motel, JJ let out a low whistle. You could see why. Agatha had really done a number on this place, even worse than the Chateau. The shingles were barely hanging on to the roof and the entire place just looked drowned, like it had aged fifty years overnight. You noticed furniture all around outside, probably to dry since it would collect mold and mildew if left damp indoors.

It didn’t make sense that someone who owned a Grady-White would stay in a run-down place like this. John B voiced this thought of yours.

You, John B and JJ hopped out of the boat, JJ tying it down. As you guys turned to leave, Pope said to John B, “Don’t let them do anything stupid.”

JJ shrugged, “Oh, we will.”

You winked at Pope, John B sighing, “I’m not making any promises.”

Kiara handed the motel keys to John B, warning in a low voice, “Be careful.” At John B’s lack of response, she leaned forward, giving him a hard look. “I’m serious, be careful.”

You nearly laughed out loud at your brother’s dumb response, an awkward chuckle and a breathy “Heh, yeah…”

As you guys walked down the hall, JJ nudged your side and nodded his head at John B, as if to say, “Watch this.”

He grabbed John B by the shoulder and chin, turning his face towards his; they were only inches apart.

John B’s eyes widened, JJ saying with an overly romantic tone, “Just be so careful, John B.”

Laughing, you watched as John B shoved JJ off harshly, sending him into you. Your back hit the back of his tank top and you caught a whiff of his scent. At first you were repulsed, expecting boyish BO, but surprisingly, JJ smelled of salt, sea salt. He must have been surfing this morning. You pushed him forward, ignoring his dumb grin.

John B looked disgusted, “God, you’re so weird.” He said to JJ.

JJ shrugged, his shoulders reaching his ears. “Dude, what the heck was that about?”

John B looked at him sarcastically. “I don’t know; maybe she wants us to be careful.”

JJ rolled his eyes, clapping him on the back, saying “Every since you’re being threatened with exile, she’s just been like—” JJ caressed John B’s face again, “Oh, be so careful, John B.”

You snorted when JJ added, “Just give me that John D already. Like when are you gonna swoop in on that?”

You but in, agreeing, “You two need to just bang already. I feel like I’m going to puke every time I look at you guys.”

John B’s looked tense. “You know the rule, guys. No pogue-on-pogue macking.”

JJ looked over at you, mocking John B’s statement silently.

You giggled and John B said, “JJ you need help. Not like a little help, you need a lot of help. ‘Cause it’s like every girl who has a heartbeat, you’re just like… UNGHHH…” John B stuck his hands out, acting as if a magnet was forcing him forward, dragging his body.

JJ scoffed, “What? It’s not a big deal. Your sister’s no different!” He defended, gesturing to you.

You slapped him on the shoulder for bringing you into this.

John B turned to JJ, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t bring my sister into this, dude.”

JJ held his hands up. “Whatever, man. I was just sayin’…”

You sighed, walking over to the door. “I think this is us guys, twenty-nine.”

JJ walked over, knocking on the door swiftly before raising his voice to a high-pitch and mimicking in one breath, “Housekeeping.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. That sound nearly sent you. JJ had always been a master of voices, but this was one of your favorites.

When John B asked if he should open it, JJ added something in Spanish and your eyes widened. You brushed your hair forward, hoping no one would see your random flush of skin.

“No power. No security cameras. No one’s gonna know,” said JJ. It was true, this was a beyond ideal situation.

Your brother unlocked the door, letting the three of you in and locking it behind him.

There wasn’t much inside. You figured it was probably a man over 50 given his choice of clothing, but there was no identification. There was a map with some coordinates pointing to off the continental shelf, which made no sense since no one fished there.

John B found a safe, but was trying to guess and check the password, JJ focused on the map. You realized there was a post it with a pin number on it and you picked it up, handing it your brother. “Here, try this.”

It worked. When he opened the safe, you immediately saw piles of cash. “Well, shit…”

You called JJ over and a giddy smile took over his face as he saw what was inside. Of course, he immediately went for the gun.

He picked it up, turning this way and that, pretending as if you guys were in some sort of lame action movie and he was taking down some cronies after him.

In all honesty, you were jealous. Crossing your arms, you pouted. “I wanted the gun.”

JJ shrugged. “Too slow.” Adjusting his position, he asked, “Come on, take a picture of me.”

John B stood up, shaking his head.

You looked at him like he was an idiot, “Seriously? You want to make our own incriminating evidence?”

Suddenly there was a hard rock hitting plexiglass sound from the window and John B looked over, before jumping to the blinds by the door of the motel room, hissing, “Cops.”

There was no way you guys would make it out in time.

You looked over at the window, ushering the guys over, “Hurry! Out here.”

JJ went out first, John B following. You shuffled out quickly, and felt an arm at your waist. You turned to see JJ, who was looking at your feet, focusing on helping you onto the ledge he was on. You leaned out, nearly falling but trusting him to hold on to you as you closed the window door with your hand. JJ pulled you back to the ledge with one swoop, the quick movement making you crash into his side.

Luckily your hair was in a braid, or it might have gotten you guys caught.

John B held his finger up to his lips, gesturing for you guys to be quiet.

You nodded. JJ didn’t remove his arm from around you. There was hardly enough room for one person. Afraid you would fall, he pulled you even closer, so that your feet were on top of his. You were chest to chest, your back against the wall, JJ caging you, but not touching you. He wasn’t looking at you but into the window, his eyebrows furrowed with anxiousness.

Without anything else to look at, you stared at him. Your breath was coming fast from your fear, making you pant and take in large gulps of hot air.

Sea salt. Once again, you could smell it. Stupidly, your mouth moved before you could control it, “Did you go surfing this morning?” You whispered.

JJ turned to you, face blank and confused. “What?”

You saw Kiara and Pope run back to the HMS Pogue.

You flushed immediately, and JJ watched your blush reach your chest. “Uh, what?” You repeated. “Nothing, never mind.”

You looked to the side, trying to ignore his stare on you. His hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from your braid behind your ear.

He leaned back towards the window and John B and him shared a look of astonishment. They had taken the money. The cops had stolen from a crime scene. JJ whispered, “What the fuck?”

You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, he shuffled slightly, and the gun that was loosely tucked into his waistband slipped, clattering on its way to the ground.

Fuck.

JJ punched the wall slightly in frustration and cursed under his breath.

John B glared but didn’t say anything. You all flinched when the window curtain was opened abruptly. Afraid you guys would be seen, JJ moved closer, his chest flush against yours now. You could hear his heart racing and you were sure he could feel how fast your chest was rising and falling. Because of the crisis. Right, because of the crisis.

He leaned forward, hiding his face beside yours, his scruffy blonde hair tickling your left cheek.

You took a deep breath before holding it, your eyes closed. You didn’t want to catch anymore of his scent. It made you foolish and disoriented.

It was tense minute. It felt like hours to you. Finally, they were gone. You released your breath onto JJ’s shoulder, and you noticed him shudder slightly.

He pulled away, making eye contact for a little too long before moving. John B opened the window and hopped inside. JJ followed, disentangling his limbs from yours.

JJ reached his hand out to you to help you up, but as usual, you slapped it away. He rolled his eyes as he watched you hold onto the sides of the window frame, hoisting yourself through the space. For some goddamn reason, today had to be the day the tip of your foot got caught on the frame and you stumbled.

Instantly, JJ had his arms out, helping you through.

Once inside, you patted him softly on the chest and he let go of you.

You straightened your shirt, clearing your throat and following John B out the door.

When you reached the HMS Pogue, Kiara and Pope had it ready to go. You guys got in and Pope drove off.

Pope asked if you guys found anything and JJ held up the money and the gun. While Kiara and Pope shouted at him for taking something from a crime scene, you gave him a high-five.

What was life without a little danger, anyways?

When you guys returned to the docks, they brought in Scooter Grubbs’ body. Apparently, he had drowned while taking his brand-new Grady-White into the storm.

When you returned to the Chateau, you guys pieced it together. It was obvious that Scooter had to have been a drug dealer, otherwise it wouldn’t have made any sense that a marina rat like him could have copped a goddamn Grady-White.

Despite Pope’s initial doubts, you guys wanted to go after the contraband that was no doubt hidden in the boat.

For now, you had to lay low. Of course, to you guys, that meant throwing a kegger on your side of the island. You even invited the kooks. They were great at attracting attention, which meant less attention on you guys, and less attention from the fact that you guys had a gun stolen from a crime scene.

It was late, and you walked over to your brother with a beer in your hand. He was leaning over one of the campfire logs, looking out wistfully with his chin in his hand. You followed his eyes and saw that he was staring at Sarah Cameron, the local, certified golden girl of the kooks. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a shove. “Find someone in your own league, bro!”

He shook his head quickly. “What? No, I wasn’t—”

You stopped him from saying anymore. “I don’t care, JB.”

You turned, looking to get more beer when someone twirled you from behind. You were met with a solid chest and looked up to see Asher.

He gave you a grin and you gave a wary smile, uncomfortable with his sudden physical contact.

“We always run into each other at keggers, ay?” Said Asher.

You nodded, pursing your lips. “Seems that way.”

Asher threw his arm around your shoulder, taking the rest of your drink and downing it. “We should really try to change that.” He suggested.

He was asking you out. Embarrassed, you tried to shoot him down nicely, “Ahh, I kind of like it better this way.”

Asher turned to face you, stopping your pace. “Aw, come on! Let me take you out, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Sorry, Asher, but dating’s really not my style.”

Confused, Asher laughed, “But whoring it up is?”

You heard a sharp, “Hey!” and JJ appeared from behind you. How long had he been there?

He shoved Asher. “What the hell did you say?” He questioned, gaining on Asher.

Asher put his hands up in the air, “Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble. Besides, who the fuck are you?”

You saw Topper appear, Sarah Cameron at his heels. “What’s going on here? You dirty pogues giving my little brother a hard time?”

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Asher was Topper’s younger brother? You had slept with that?

Repulsed, you wrinkled your nose. John B approached to see what the commotion was about as well. He asked what was happening and JJ gestured accusingly at Asher. “This one’s calling Y/N a whore.”

John B’s eyebrow rose, his expression dangerous.

This was not going to end well.

“He did what?” Before he could reach Asher, Topper shoved John B, provoking him to shove back, leading to an all-out brawl.

You were tempted to join in, but Kiara held tight to your arm, not letting you out of her grip.

One thing led to another and Topper had John B’s head in the water, drowning him.

“JOHN B! Topper get OFF!” You screamed.

You watched as JJ’s jaw clenched at your hysterical cries. Steeling himself, he ran up to the fight, pulling the gun out of his shorts and holding it to Topper’s head.

Everyone on the beach scattered at the sight of a gun. Pope cursed with his hands on his head, furious.

JJ muttered something to Topper and he held his hands up, releasing John B. Kiara finally let you go and you ran up to your brother, who was coughing his lungs out.

Kiara joined you, helping John B up and walking him out of the water.

He shook you guys off, glaring at JJ.

You guys blew it. This was the complete opposite of laying low.

To be continued…

Masterlist

@treestarrrrrrrr

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 16

Scully searches for Mulder in the desert; Missy encounters her own trouble back in Washington.

---------------------

As she stands in the charred boxcar, she can’t help but fear that Mulder’s remains are scattered around her. She fears him being dead, of course, but thinking about his condition if he’s alive makes her insides swirl. She had heard coyotes howling through the night and all she could think about was what if Mulder was out there, what if their glowing eyes faced him in the dark, what if their howls drowned out his cries? She thinks of all the children on milk cartons, and their poor parents, and all the pain in the world.

Albert and his son accompanied her out to the desert while Melissa stayed back and phoned the Navajo Nation police department and New Mexico’s county police. Mulder is a wanted man in the eyes of the federal government, Scully’s sure, but she’s more concerned with whether he’s a dead man. And if the FBI knows what’s good for them, they’d be concerned too. Of course, that’s a hard argument to make when her name is probably scribbled alongside Mulder’s for aiding and abetting a fugitive. Still, the more manpower they have, the greater the chance of finding him, and that’s in everyone's best interest.

She kneels on the red-dusted bottom of the boxcar and recalls what Mulder had told her he’d found: bodies, piles of them--inhuman by his description--and smallpox vaccination scars. She hadn’t been thinking clearly the night before when she told her sister there’d be nothing left. When a body burns, the skeleton survives. Not intact, exactly, but there. Permissible as forensic evidence, capable of unfurling the secrets of the skin that once surrounded it. Crematoriums have to put bones through a grinder to turn them to ash. Scully sees neither bones nor ashes around her--what is she to make of that?

“Anything ma’am?” Eric calls down to her from where he and his father are searching the rocks.

Scully stands up. “No, nothing but sand and smoke.”

“FBI man couldn’t have gone far,” Eric emphasizes. “I never saw him leave the boxcar.”

“Well, in that case there’d be bones or some sign of remains...I see nothing, not even what he told me he saw down here.”

Albert appears at his son’s shoulder. “What was that which he saw?”

Scully squeezes her temple. “Bodies with smallpox vaccine scars. He said they didn’t look human.”

“Ah. The disappeared.”

“No, I don’t think it was the Anasazi. I think that...it’s related to whatever caused them to disappear. I think the government knew, and they wanted in on it.”

“You see?” Albert tells her. “Nothing disappears without a trace.”

Scully turns her back to them. She’s said that exact sentence to Mulder before...what if she was wrong? About all of it?

Eric helps her out of the boxcar. Vultures whine above them.

“Is the tribal police equipped to handle a missing person case?” Scully asks Albert, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“I sure hope so, but it is not often that a non-resident goes missing on the reservation.”

“Since this deals with one of their agents, the FBI could get involved,” Scully relays, “but I fear it might disturb the community.”

Albert nods. “It would be best to leave the federal government out of this.”

“Unfortunately,” Scully says, kicking a stray rock, “my partner and I were in the midst of a sort of dereliction of our duties, so I suspect the FBI will track me down no matter how hard I resist.”

“That is unfortunate,” Albert affirms. “But we will protect you as best we can.”

“Thank you.” Scully meets his eye. It is warm, but it is not the gaze she wishes she were looking into. “I’d like to get back to my sister now,” she divulges, moving toward the truck Albert brought them in.

“We’ll go,” Albert replies, ushering Eric into the truck.

And as the tires rattle over the earth, Scully realizes that the heart can choose to stop beating when it pleases, and my god, what a burden to bear.

--------------------------------

Scully’s phone is ringing when she walks through the motel door. She ignores it--Skinner chewing her out is the last thing she needs right now.

At the desk, Missy labors over a spread of tarot cards, not even acknowledging Scully’s entrance. She whispers to herself as she analyzes the selections.

“You brought those?” Scully gripes.

Missy nods, still engrossed by the arrangement. She looks up from the cards. “I suspected I would need it.”

“And what do you need it for?”

“To make decisions. Specifically, to decide whether I should go back to Washington.”

Scully’s forehead wrinkles. “And what do they say?”

“It’s not definite, of course, but the cards are leaning toward yes.”

“And you needed the cards to tell you this why?”

Missy smiles. “Because the cards work in concordance with the universe, Dana.”

Scully turns away so her sister can’t see her roll her eyes. “Oh. Right.”

Missy slides her chair back, stands up. “I know you think it’s crazy, and I won’t try to change your mind. However, I believe that it’s a worthwhile instrument of spiritual guidance, and I’m inclined to follow its advice.”

“By going back to Washington.”

Missy nods.

“Does that mean that I come too?” Scully asks, suddenly seeing the appeal of putting tough decisions at the mercy of a completely arbitrary system.

Missy pushes a lock of her sister’s hair behind her ear. “Not so fast. I only asked the cards about me. They said I should go.”

Scully allows the corners of her lips to turn up slightly. Oh, to let child’s play seep into your adult life. “So you didn’t ask them about me?”

“No,” Missy says, eyes shining. “Because I already know the answer. You should stay.”

“Well, shouldn’t you check with the cards about that?”

“I can, but I know what they’ll say.”

Scully frowns now. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know the answer in my heart. It’s obvious, like what color the sky is, or should you take an umbrella when it rains. There’s no need to use the cards for that.”

Scully just stares at her sister, feeling backed into a corner. If she asks her to use the cards, that implies that she has some faith in them...but to her the answer isn’t obvious, it isn’t something she knows implicitly in her heart, and sometimes she doesn’t even take an umbrella when it rains!

Missy pats her sister’s shoulder, sensing the uncertainty. “If you want me to use the cards, I’ll use the cards. But I can tell you what the right answer is.”

Scully screws her eyes shut, opening them after a long moment. “Fine, fine, I’ll just stay. But were you able to get a hold of the police?”

Missy nods. “The reservation department doesn’t have enough resources to launch a search until tomorrow. And county police won’t get involved unless the FBI requests assistance.”

“But the FBI isn’t even involved!”

“The conclusion was that since the case involves their missing agent, they should be involved (or you know, would be if we told them), and they have superior jurisdiction over the matter. It would be considered rude if local law enforcement got involved.”

Scully bites her lip. “I’m sure there’s an APB out on us, is that not enough for them?”

Missy shrugs. “I don’t know. I only gave them Mulder’s name, and they didn’t mention anything about him being wanted.”

“Well, maybe they’ll get the memo…”

“There’s a simple solution, Dana.”

Scully raises an eyebrow, inviting her to answer.

“Tell Skinner where you are and what’s happened! Having the Bureau on this would increase the chances of finding Mulder.”

“If the Bureau doesn’t disown us first.”

Missy shrugs. “I’m sure it’s in their best interest to locate a wanted man, and maybe even his rag-tag partner…”

“That’s kind of what the rag-tag partner is afraid of,” Scully concurs.

“Look, you’re not gonna be able to avoid questioning him for his father’s murder, but you have evidence that proves he didn’t do it. And then that will be done and over with, and you can move on with your lives. Or you can continue to hide out in the middle of nowhere and further incriminate yourselves.”

Scully lowers herself onto the bed, her face in her hands. “That’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say before we drive across the country!”

“I wanted you to make progress on the conspiracy. You have, now it’s time to stop hiding.”

“You call what’s happened here progress?” Scully grumbles.

“Sure. You got translations from Albert--”

“That don’t reveal much.”

“--and Mulder got a look at what was inside that boxcar.”

“What good does that do if he’s not here?”

“He will be. And this will motivate both of you to push even further.”

Scully looks at her sister with world-weary eyes. “I’m really hoping that elder sisters have some sort of psychic abilities that I don’t know about,” she sighs.

Missy pulls her lips into a smile. “We do.”

The girls hug, and Scully feels the world right itself just a bit.

---------------------------

As he steps out of his office, key in hand, the phone sounds. He answers without hesitation, not normal for him at such a late hour.

“Hello?” he barks into the phone.

“Director Skinner, it’s Agent Scully.”

“Agent Scully, where the hell are you?”

He hears her voice tremble with a sigh, then--”It’s a long story, and I can explain it all later, but right now I need you to know that Mulder is missing.”

“He’s on the run,” Skinner responds. “Because he killed his father.”

“No, sir, he didn’t. He came to me, and I...well, I’ll spare you the details right now, but we ended up on the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico, and Mulder’s disappeared.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner booms into the phone, “Agent Mulder is a federally wanted fugitive. If you’ve known where he is all this time, you are complicit in his crimes.”

“He didn’t do it sir, I took his weapon to ballistics the morning after his father was shot. They ran a ballistic fingerprint test. The results are in our office, you can see them for yourself.”

“Why was I not informed of this? You had contact with Agent Mulder after the shooting--when he was a suspect--and you didn’t turn him in?”

“Yes, sir,” Scully sighs.

“You told our men you didn’t know where he was.”

“Uh-huh, and I gave them a weapon to run ballistics on, but I didn’t tell them it was Mulder’s. It was FBI issue, so I told them we should run it to confirm that a FBI weapon wasn’t used.”

“That doesn’t clear him, Agent Scully. He could have used another gun.”

“He doesn’t own another gun.”

“His father does.”

“Then ballistics test it. It wasn’t Mr. Mulder’s weapon, I promise you. I’ve seen the weapon, and I know who used it.”

“So you’re withholding information from the FBI as well!”

“It’s not that sir. I’d be more than happy to share it with you, but first and foremost, I need your help.”

“How can you expect me to help you when you’ve deserted your duties and committed multiple federal crimes?” he thunders.

“This is about Agent Mulder’s life, sir. As you said, he’s a wanted man. Here’s your opportunity to catch him.”

“I see you in my office before I do anything.”

“Please, sir. I’m in New Mexico.”

“You either come to my office tomorrow morning to acknowledge your failure to carry out your duties and provide me with the whereabouts of Agent Mulder, or consider yourself stripped of your badge with a warrant out for your arrest.”

Scully’s jaw clicks, he can hear it through the phone. “Alright,” she responds curtly. And with nothing else to add, “Good night.” The line clicks.

In the desert motel room, Scully turns to her sister. “He wants to see me in his office tomorrow morning.”

“You could fly back. I’ll take the car.”

Scully bites her lip and looks out the window, but all she’s met with is darkness. “I hate this, Melissa. It’s my job, or my partner.”

Missy frowns. It’s not cold, but she lifts a blanket and drapes it around her sister’s shoulders. “And you’re thinking of dad, aren’t you?...What he would do?”

Scully nods, pulling the blanket closer to her. “I thought I knew, but now that I’m faced with the decision, I’m not sure.”

“He loved his work, but he loved his family more,” Missy muses, a smile creeping onto her lips. “That was his last wish, wasn’t it? He visited you, told you that he wanted more time with you.”

Scully averts her eyes. He had, he had. A vision of him told her that when she thought she was dying, and it turned out she was not. But what is she to do with that now? Mulder’s not family, not in that way…

As if she could hear her sister’s thoughts, Missy responds, “It’s about love, Dana, in all its forms. What is life if not the connections we make with others?”

A dam tucked away in Scully’s soul has broken open. She looks at her sister with water-logged eyes, her lips trembling.

“I love him, Melissa. More than any…”

“I know you do.” Missy wraps her arms around her sister, rocking the two of them back and forth like a mother and her baby. “Act from that place. The world needs more of that feeling.”

Scully sniffles against her sister’s shoulder. The gears have clicked into place, finally. If this is the hill she has to die on, then so be it.

------------------------------------

The tide climbs the shore like the man in the sky is holding magnets, drawing it onto land faster than even the moon could dare. This is no tsunami; no sky-scraping waves, no crash and burn as water meets solid. This is a flood. Like there was an invisible barrier keeping the water in its place so well delegated on maps, and suddenly that impediment has disappeared. Water sweeps onto and over land like it's been waiting since the dawn of Earth to do so. Like it’s been held back all this time, drifting in silent slumber. It’s beautiful, really. Natural. But in its celebration of freedom, it unwittingly wipes out the world.

This is the dream Scully wakes from, roused by a knock on the motel door. Through the curtains, night’s pure darkness softens to a navy blue. She rolls out of bed and pads to the door in her silk pajamas, standing on her tip-toes to peer through the peephole. Sheets rustle as Missy sits up.

“It’s Albert,” Scully whispers to her sister, who pulls on a robe and joins her at the door.

Scully unbolts the door and ushers Albert in. Chilly air slips in behind him. The desert becomes a void without the sun as its heat source.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” he mutters. “But we’ve recovered your partner.”

Scully feels like she’s had a stun-gun taken to her spine. “What? How? Is he alive?”

“He is not conscious, but there is breath left within him. My son was out feeding the goats and noticed buzzards circling over the desert. He rode down to see, and sure enough, FBI man’s body was tucked in a quarry.”

Scully’s voice leaps octaves. She gropes for her coat. “He needs medical attention right now--”

“Yes. We are handling it,” Albert says with the calm manner of a stately man. “We are preparing a traditional healing ceremony for him, the Blessingway. We will summon the power of our holy people to help him, but ultimately, it is his spirit that must choose to stay.”

While respectable, this is not a good enough answer for Scully. She pulls on her coat. “I need to see him. I’m a doctor, I can examine him.”

“It is not medical intervention that he needs now. He is being hydrated and will be fed when the time is right. He has no visible injuries...I believe that the desert simply wore him down, as is its way.”

“There could be internal injuries, and his vitals need to be checked…” Scully argues, the scant slice of sanity she held onto slipping away.

“We are caring for him, I promise you. You can come and observe our rituals.”

“With all due respect, I think what Mulder needs right now is more than rituals.”

Missy scoffs and lays a grounding hand on her sister’s shoulder, pulling her away from Albert. “Dana, please just let them do their work.”

Scully turns on her sister. “Mulder’s dying, and you want me to leave it in the hands of the spirits?!” she snaps.

Missy sets her lips in a line. “That is what prayer is, isn’t it?”

Scully crumbles, her world-views clashing like tectonic plates. Finally, she whimpers--“I care too much about him to leave it up to fate.”

--------------------------

And so Melissa sets off for Washington in Scully’s sedan, while Scully herself stays cloistered in that motel room trying not to scare off a miracle. The call she expected from Skinner comes, followed by many others. All go unanswered while she waits for an answer from the universe.

Albert invited her to look in on the Blessingway ritual, but she couldn’t do it. It would be intrusive and painful and maybe even blasphemous--she can’t tempt the fates at a time like this. Besides, looking at Mulder and not being able to help him would take her back to her med school days of staring at death through the glass. Nowadays, there are only two conditions where she’ll allow herself to face death: when she can strangle it, and when she can examine the damage left in its wake. It worries her, then, which one she’ll meet Mulder under.

Missy had gone in to see him before she left. She understood her sister’s apprehension and took the liberty of checking up on Fox herself. Albert had not lied; Mulder was unconscious, but he looked alright. No blood, no bruises, just sun-burnt skin and the aura of exhaustion. She would not have left if she didn’t believe that he would pull through and that his awakening would be a moment of reckoning for he and her sister to tackle on their own.

Four days pass before Eric greets Scully with the vague notion of a smile as he pulls up on his motorbike. She had been expecting him; he takes her over to Albert’s for lunch every day. His countenance is different today, but he is quiet like always. She snaps on the helmet he brought for her and settles herself behind him on the bike.

The growl of the engine reminds her of Maryland forests and Bill’s four-wheeler. How she’d sit behind him and Missy would sit behind Charlie and they would race over the paths traced by hundreds of children over hundreds of years. It felt like being a part of something bigger than herself. It felt like freedom.

Now, it feels like chains. Chains she’s had put around her because she’s choosing to do the right thing. The ones keeping her hidden in the desert. The ones making her pin all her hopes on the Navajo people and their gods. The ones holding her feelings hostage from her. And the ones hiding the truth from her and the man who needs it the most. She wants to be back in the basement office with Mulder. She wants things to be okay.

It’s a short ride to Albert’s, and he is standing on the driveway to greet her when they drive up.

“Hello Agent Scully,” he says as she swings her leg over the bike and hands her helmet to Eric. “It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

She had been too occupied with her thoughts to notice, but yes, it is as good a day as the desert gives. Sunshine offset by a breeze, low humidity, and temperatures that do justice to spring.

“It is, Albert,” she answers kindly. “How are you today?” She has become quite comfortable in his company. He’s been helping her scour the translated passages for useful information, though they have not come up very lucky.

“I am well,” he answers in his warm tone. “There is someone who wants to see you.”

“Oh?” Scully’s attention snaps to Albert’s house. Has Skinner tracked her down? Is he waiting inside to admonish her? There are no extra cars in the driveway, but knowing what she knows about helicopters and appearances and disappearances, this means nothing.

“No one in there,” Albert assures, following her gaze. He lays a hand on her shoulder and guides her toward the Blessingway tent.

Scully resists him. “I’ve told you, I feel it would be disrespectful to enter your sacred space as a non-believer.”

“You are not a non-believer just because you believe other things. You are one of the most fervent believers I have met. Besides, your partner wants to talk to you.”

Scully breaks away. “What?...He’s awake?”

“Yes, ma’am. As of dawn.”

You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who reverses course as quickly as Scully does about the tent. She rushes toward it, Albert following after. “Is the ceremony over then?”

“No, it is up to FBI man to end it properly. He may not work, change clothes, or bathe for four days.”

Scully groans, then takes hold of the tent entrance flap. “I can go in…?” she queries, still uncertain despite days worth of invitations.

Albert nods. “Go on. I will stay here, and you can ask the boys to join me.”

Scully pulls the material aside and enters. She’s met with the same excitement one feels when stepping onto a train car or off of a plane. She is arriving somewhere only her imagination could previously touch.

At the far side of the tent, a cluster of Navajo boys about Eric’s age char a piece of bread over the fire. Completing their circle, with his back to her, her partner sits with a blanket pulled around his shoulders. His hair brushes the nape of his neck, and the curve of his biceps look less defined than she’s ever seen them. Yet undeniably, it is him.

“Mulder.” Hellos have never been necessary for them.

He’s heard so many voices talk to him over the past few days that he assumes this is one hanging behind. Only when he sees the boys stop their conversation and draw their attention toward the entrance does he turn and realize this is not a voice, but the voice.

He rises to his feet far quicker than has to be healthy and stumbles toward his partner. “I didn’t know if you had stayed or not. When Albert told me you were here…” Words can’t capture the feeling. Scully understands.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” she says, deciding to gloss over the details of her dilemma. “Melissa took the car back, but yeah, I’m here.”

She lays a hand against one of the diminished biceps and walks him over to the pillows that have been laid out for sitting. She helps him down in a delicate fashion, then takes a place next to him. The Navajo boys exit without being asked.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” Mulder confesses, his voice straining as it gains back its strength.

“Were you planning to join the Navajo?” Scully wisecracks, taking over his usual duty.

“No, I…” he chuckles at himself. “I don’t know. I just thought I’d wake up and it would be like Freaky Friday, like I’m in someone else’s body, someone else’s life.”

“In Freaky Friday, the mom and daughter switched bodies. They knew each other. So it would be like if we switched bodies, and I think we’d figure out a way to switch back, don’t you?”

Mulder cracks a smile. “On second thought, no take backsies!”

Scully rolls her eyes. She hasn’t done that, she realizes, in about five days. What an influence he has on her.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, threading a hand beneath the blanket so she can lay a hand over his.

“You ever asked the bodies on your autopsy table that? I think they’d have a comparable answer.”

“Is there anything I can get you?” Her voice is a rush of tenderness. “Water?...Have they fed you?”

Mulder rubs his eyes. “I’ve been fed, watered, and bathed like any respectable man brought back from the dead. I apparently have four days of lazing around ahead of me.”

“Yeah, I heard. Not very convenient for a wanted felon.”

“Damn, I was hoping I dreamed that part.”

“No, unfortunately not,” Scully sighs out. “And I’ve been ignoring Skinner’s orders, so I’ll be lucky to still have a badge.”

“So we’re the Bonnie and Clyde of the FBI now, ey?”

Scully smiles. “I think we’ve always been the Bonnie and Clyde of the FBI, though now we’re just...Bonnie and Clyde.”

“So fugitives without the employment of the federal government to protect them…”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” He pulls the blanket tighter against him. Then--“So do you have any idea how I got here?”

“Which part are you fuzzy on? New Mexico, this tent, life in general…” She is so relieved to have him back that she’ll indulge in a bit of playful banter.

“Um…” through his bleariness, he is still able to smile at her silliness. “I remember our car ride out here. I’m not really sure how I ended up the guest of honor at a Blessingway ritual.”

“Do you remember being in the boxcar? You called me and told me there were bodies with smallpox vaccination scars.”

“And that they didn’t look human…”

Of course he remembers that above all.

“Right, how could I forget?” Scully teases.

“And then I remember heat--really searing heat--and a long period of nothing, and then crawling into the rocks and hearing coyotes cry as I closed my eyes. And then I found myself here.”

“The boxcar went up in flames. CSM’s work, I believe.” She rakes her nails against his blanket. “I don’t know how you escaped without any burns.”

Mulder shakes his head. “I don’t remember.” He looks up at her. “Did you think I was dead?”

She bites her lip, thinking of the hours she spent on the imaginary-that-she-worried-wouldn’t-be-so-imaginary eulogy Melissa made her write.

“I was afraid of that, yeah,” she answers tautly. She considers...should she tell him of the heartache she poured out on paper because she had nowhere else to put it? It seems so futile now with him there in front of her, his heart beating blissfully.

She knits her brows together. “I had to think about what I would say at your funeral, so I would really appreciate if you could not scare me like that again.”

“I’ve seen your gravestone, Scully. I think we’re even.”

She contorts her face so as not to show her frown. “Maybe.” She rises, offering him her hand. “You wanna go back to the motel? Sleep in a bed for a change?”

He links his fingers through hers, and she hoists him up. “You’re still paying for that second room?” he jests, only half-joking.

She makes her way toward the tent entrance, looking back at him with a mischievous smile. “No, but Missy’s gone, so you can have her bed.”

Mulder snickers. “Cheapskate.”

Scully gets her revenge by letting the tent flap fall back on him as she goes through, and he laughs because yeah, that sounds about right. He has definitely woken up in the right life.

-----------------------------------

She’s just stepped out of the shower when she hears it: the faint clash of a rubber sole against hardwood. It shouldn't be; her sister is 2,000 miles away, her lover even more than that. She is to be alone...but she’s not.

And it scares her, but it doesn’t. She knows what to do--she’s read about this, thought about it, almost lived it dozens of times. It comes with the territory. A young woman, a conventionally attractive young woman, a young woman who walks hand-in-hand with her girlfriend in public...yes, she has been waiting for this like winter waits for the first snow. She was born with the knowledge of this fate in her bones.

And so she slides on her t-shirt and shorts, grabs the phone from the nightstand, and wordlessly locks the bedroom door. Seeking as much cover as she can get, Missy slips into her closet, her hair still bundled in a towel. If she could get to her purse, she could grab her mace, but it’s in the kitchen and that’s too much of a risk.

She won’t cower defenseless though, for she will not allow herself to become another name in the paper, a number on the page. She raises onto her tip-toes and grabs an old lamp from the top shelf. Sliding off the lampshade reveals some nice sharp carvings that’ll surely do some damage.

She presses herself against the slats of the accordion door and listens. Could she have been hearing things? She didn’t hear anyone break in, but the shower was running. Now she hears nothing more than the usual creaking of the walls. Still, she could have sworn there were footsteps, and that’s happened here before, so how could she rule it out?

She thinks of her sister, alone, running a bath to relax after another day on her new job and ending up laid out on her bathroom tile. Put on display like a mannequin in a store window. It sickens her. That was just the first time her sister became a board for bad men’s depraved darts. How do you end a violent cycle without further violence?

Murmurs--too loud for their speaker’s own good--confirm Missy’s suspicions. So it is not one pair of footsteps, but two, that stalks her. They come from the other side of the door, though not too much beyond it. She dials the three digits that can save her and squeezes the phone between her ear and shoulder.

As fate wills it, so it shall be.

-------------------------

Scully can’t take her eyes off him, and she’s not sure whether it’s the motherly instinct or its perfect opposite. He’s lounging on the adjacent bed in his undershirt and jeans, chewing leftover Spitz while absorbing some public broadcasting documentary about the Trail of Tears. His eyes prowl the screen, and Scully wonders if he always watches television like this: hungry desperation meets boyish wonder. It is charming, and it is sad. She wishes she knew him when he was growing up, and that he knew her too.

The documentary breaks for a word from its sponsors, and Mulder rolls onto his side, the front of him facing his partner.

Scully gives him an acknowledging smile. “Are you comfortable?”

He nods. “These are better accommodations than the Bureau would stick us in, that’s for sure.”

Scully smiles at her cross-legged lap. She doesn’t think so really, it’s the second cheapest she could find and all the drinking glasses have lipstick stains, but it’s a nice idea. And he’s spent days against the Earth floor, so she won’t challenge him.

She runs her eyes over him, thinking of the days and nights she passed staring at that bed’s emptiness. Forget the fear of losing her job, even the fear of arrest--none of that matters because he is back now, and that is all she could ask.

With a stretch, she pulls open her bedside drawer and takes out a notepad. The notepad. Just like that, she is a teenager taking a plastic key and unlocking her diary.

Mulder tosses a sunflower seed in the air, but it thuds on his chest instead of landing in his mouth. Scully pretends she didn’t see.

“When I said that I had to think about what I’d say at your funeral, I mean I thought about it a lot...I wrote it down even,” she stammers. Now she is a teenage boy asking his crush to the prom with a handmade sign and a balloon, and god does it feel inadequate.

Mulder’s face lights up. “Lemme see!” He sticks his arm across the way, flexing his hand like he’s begging for a cookie.

Scully clutches the paper close to her side. “It’s stupid and sentimental,” she insists.

“As opposed to the crushing takedown you were hoping to deliver?”

She shrugs. “It just doesn’t do you or your life justice, and that’s all the more clear with you right in front of me.”

“C’mon, Scully. I’m not asking you to create world peace--I just wanna know what you said.”

She scans her sprawling writing, her beating heart in ink. “I mean...it’s nothing you don’t already know.”

He leans forward on the bed, closing the distance between his hand and the paper. “Let me see it.”

Scully lets it slide from her fingers with a huff of apprehension. Indifference has always been her go-to defense mechanism, but there’s nothing about Fox W. Mulder she can be indifferent about. If he doesn’t already realize that, he will in a moment.

His eyes trace her sentences with a curiosity that is quenched by every word. He smiles up at her, and it’s the youngest she’s ever seen him.

“Best friend?” He can’t even make it through his teasing with a straight face, chuckling before he gets a chance to continue. “Scully, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Thank god we got that out in the open,” Scully hums, riding his playful wavelength.

“No doubt.” Mulder caresses the paper between his fingers, absorbing all the care she put into it while she thought he was gone. “Well, at least you won’t have to read that anytime soon.”

Scully nods, a bashful smile adorning her face. “At least.” Her lips part decisively, but she closes her mouth, a self-imposed censure.

Mulder takes a stray look at the TV screen, the documentary having come back on. Quickly, his eyes fall back on Scully; she shines brighter than the television light.

“For what it’s worth,” he stammers, “I’m glad I didn’t die...that I get to be here with you.”

Scully’s eyebrows crease. That’s the most moving thing a living person has ever said to her...it’s as if she’s taken a bird with a broken wing into her palm, a display of trust so tender it renews her faith in existence.

She turns her face away from him. He’s left with a view of her profile--a dainty white cheek and the curve of her nose--and he’s never understood the urge to break out a sketchbook until now. This is a sight crafted for capture.

“Mulder, that’s...thank you,” she spills out. If she looked at him now, she’d do the thing she fears would ruin them forever. So she doesn’t. She closes her eyes and tilts her head toward the popcorn ceiling with something like a prayer in mind. It’s God’s hand, she knows it must be, when the phone rings at just that second.

She lifts it off the bedside table without opening her eyes. “Hello?”

“Dana?”

Her sister’s voice floats through the receiver, sounding as close as it ever does. Scully sits up, turns toward the table’s edge as if her sister were in the room. “I’m here. Is everything okay?” She asks this because she’s used to it being the first thing she’s asked.

“Well…” A pang leaps in Scully’s heart. Her sister is not one to know uncertainty. She lays the receiver on the table and hits the speaker button.

“There was a break-in.” Missy’s voice fills the room, catching Mulder’s attention too. He mutes the TV. “I’m okay, I wasn’t hurt, and I didn’t encounter the burglars directly. I hid in the closet and called the police--I don’t think they even knew I was home. They were gone by the time the authorities arrived. They dug around in your room.”

“My room?” Scully’s heart beats in double-time. “Did they take anything?”

“Not that I can tell.” Missy exhales. “They were looking for you, I think.”

Mulder leans forward, and Scully swaps a pin-prick glance with him. “Are the police still there?” she asks.

“Yes, they’re swabbing for fingerprints and shoe-prints.”

“Can I talk to them?”

“Yeah--I’ll give you someone better.” Before Scully can question what that means, she hears the receiver switch hands and a familiar voice boom toward her. “Agent Scully, we’re reviewing your complex’s security cameras to see what we can get.”

“Skinner?” Scully remarks, as if his voice is one she might fail to recognize. Mulder chuckles, and she wishes he didn’t.

“Are you alone?” Skinner asks, probably tipped off by her partner’s lack of finesse.

“No, Mulder is here,” she replies nonchalantly.

There’s an indiscriminate grumble on Skinner’s part, then he continues--”Well, this appears to be a targeted attack. As far as we can tell, all of the apartment is untouched but your bedroom and bathroom. Drawers were left open in both areas.”

“And this wasn’t law enforcement serving an arrest warrant or anything?”

“No, that situation has been resolved.”

Scully’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean…?”

“I found the ballistics report for Agent Mulder’s weapon in your office, and after speaking with your sister, mother, and Albert Holsteen, any charges have been dropped. For both of you.”

Scully’s mouth falls open. She and Mulder lock eyes. Stress he didn’t even know he had falls away.

“Now, there will still be internal discipline by the Bureau, but that’s not the subject of this call. We believe that whoever is responsible for killing Mulder’s father is the same person who broke into your apartment.”

“Krycek,” Scully and Mulder both choke out.

“Alex?” Skinner scoffs. “I’ll need the details on that, and I’ll need to hear them from you. In my office.”

“Yes, sir,” Scully exudes.

Finally, she and Mulder are homebound.

-------------------

They are a sight to see as they crawl through airport security, Mulder in week old clothes and Scully lugging their suitcases just in case that might count as “work.” Mulder passes through the metal detector first, coming up clean despite the tangy stench he is taking on.

Scully takes her gun out of the holster and presents it to the security guard in one hand, her badge in the other. “I’m a federal agent. This is my FBI-issued weapon.”

“Alright, leave it here and we’ll slide it through.”

She does so, then slips under the metal detector herself. It whines in protest, and she’s surrounded before she can even process the sound.

Her hand goes to her cross. “Is it the necklace?” It doesn’t usually set off the detectors, but maybe this one is more sensitive. She takes it off and tries again. Again, the machine beeps.

“We’re going to need to pat you down, ma’am,” the guard informs her. She pushes away the fear that flashes in her core, then spreads her arms and legs. Hands--men’s hands, brawny and uncompromising--inundate her. She closes her eyes and pretends it isn’t happening, and god, she wishes Mulder weren’t standing only a few feet away.

After a minute that feels all too indulgent, the men back away. “I’m not finding anything,” one says to another, like Scully isn’t even there.

“Let’s see the x-ray again,” another says, limping off with the other while one stays positioned in front of Scully.

“Neck…” she hears them say. “I’m thinking it was just the necklace.”

The men return, and one moves her hair aside to examine the base of her neck. Nothing shows. “You got a bomb in there we should be worried about?” he jokes.

“I sure hope not,” Scully huffs, getting testy.

“Well, here’s your necklace, and your gun. You’re good to go.”

She takes her items with the feeling that she is nothing but a toy to them. They work at a candy shop, but only every once in a while do they get to taste the candy. She hopes she left a sour taste in their mouths, though she doubts that.

Joining Mulder, she feels a sense of cleanliness, a rebirth of a sort. How do his hands touch a woman, she wonders? She’s been privy to his gentle touches and reassuring swoons, so she knows he’s not greedy, but...would he be? If she asked him to?

A woman can only wait so long.

#good lord this got very long #we are getting close to the 'twist' that is the whole reason I wanted to write this...#also prob about 3/4th done with the whole thing :)#thank you so much for reading/liking/commenting #mwah 💋#only the light fic #the x-files #txf #txf fic #missy and scully fic #mine

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thinkyoureholy · 3 years

Text

Blessed With A Curse [5]

Pairing : Kang Yeosang / [fem] Reader

Genre :Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut , Greek God!AU

Words :4k

Previous Chapter. -- Next Chapter.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

-Wooyoung/Apollo’s P.O.V-

I leaned against a pillar with my arms crossed over my chest, staring blankly at a pillar across from me, lost in my thoughts. I was thinking of everything but nothing at all at the same time. I couldn’t make sense of the thoughts in my own head but at the same time I made no effort to actually try and understand them. I’ve been this way ever since Ares was banished...I haven’t really been the same since that day. Thought my thoughts were a jumbled mess one stood out the most, a memory that haunted me day in and day out.

‘We saw you.’

Those were the words that would replay in my head every second of every day. What exactly did I even see? I spoke without thinking back then, my mouth seemingly having a mind of its own. But what was worse was the image that came with those words. I had never seen Ares look as heartbroken as he did when those words came out of my mouth. I knew he thought I was the last person to ever betray him, he expected more from me and in the end I let him down when it mattered the most.

I sighed heavily, running my fingers through my hair, “Dammit,” I cursed under my breath, sliding down the pillar until I was crouched on the floor, my head bowed.

Ever since he showed back up I’ve been feeling more like shit than usual. I thought I’d be spared from seeing him if I stayed in Athens but I guess he doesn’t care much for territory at the moment. I’ve already got enough of a headache knowing his in Athens and seeing him around every once and a while but what’s got me more worried is his relationship with Y/N. I don’t know how I could’ve missed it after spending so many years at her side, he must’ve cast a spell powerful enough to keep his mark hidden, one so strong the other gods would be none the wiser to her being one of his ‘warriors’. But why would he make her one in the first place? And how long has she had his mark for? All these questions whirled around in my head until a dull throbbing sensation spread across my skull.

“What the hell are you thinking so hard about that you’re giving yourself a headache?”

Her voice cut through my thoughts, my eyes briefing glancing up before falling back down to stare at the floor beneath my feet. I groaned low in my throat, pressing my palm against my temple as I stood to my full height, “Nothing that concerns you,” I answered curtly, closing my eyes to rid myself of the pain in my head. “It's got to be something important if it’s got you like this,” She spoke softly, worry laced in her tone.

I didn't bother giving her an answer, the headache slowly fading. I didn’t hear her say another word, the only sound that reached my ears was the sound of her footsteps approaching me. I finally opened my eyes when I felt her fingers begin to wrap around my wrist. I roughly pushed her hand away, ignoring the look of surprise that crossed her face.

“What do you want, Artemis? I come here for some peace and quiet and I can’t even get more than ten minutes alone.” I grumbled, glaring at her.

“Apollo...what’s gotten into you? You’ve been irritable ever since you ran into Ares weeks ago. What the hell did he do to you?” She asked, her anger focused on Ares now.

I stared into her eyes for a moment, scoffing with a rueful smirk on my face at the look I saw on her face, “What did he do?” I repeated, a dry chuckle falling from my lips, “Nothing compared to what we did to him.”

Her eyes darkened when those words fell from my mouth, “We did nothing but tell the truth.”

“And what truth is that exactly? Because no matter how much I think about it the words I uttered when he was being sentenced had no evidence behind them. I can’t remember exactly what it is we saw him do with Aphrodite. It may have happened a century ago but something that important is something I would’ve never forgotten. Now, tell me what is it that we saw that incriminated him?” I spoke through my teeth, my emotions all over the place as I confronted her.

She looked away, leaving my question unanswered. I scoffed once again, the disgust on my face as clear as day, “See? Even you can’t answer. So why did we stab him in the back like that? What in the world could have compelled us to lie?”

She looked back up at me the moment I asked that question, the look she now had on her face different to the look she wore mere seconds before. If I didn’t know any better I’d say the emotion she had in her eyes was fear, “Don’t go looking into things now Apollo. It’s better if you just live quietly like we have been since it happened. Don’t start sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

I furrowed my brows, her words sparking suspicion in me, “What do you mean by that?”

“Just, stop asking questions, please. I can only protect you if you keep your head down like you’ve been doing for the past century,” She basically begged me, grabbing onto my arm.

“What the hell are you hiding from me?” I asked, my voice dropping several octaves as I latched onto her wrist, squeezing tightly.

She winced at the force I was using on her but she didn’t say anything. That only confirmed my suspicions that she was hiding something from me, something big. My fingers dug painfully into her skin, my eyes beginning to glow as I glared at her, “Artemis, answer me, now. What the fuck are you keeping from me? And why can’t I remember a thing about it?” I growled through my teeth.

She avoided my gaze, a grimace on her face as she tried to pry my hand off of her, “I can’t tell you…”

“And why the fuck not? Since when do we keep things from the other, huh? What secret is so damn important that you’d go as far as to lie to me? Huh? Answer me dammit!” I shouted, beginning to lose my composure.

“Let her go, Apollo.”

I tensed at the sound of her voice, moving my gaze over to glare at Athena as she slowly walked over to the two of us, “Stay out of this, this doesn’t concern you.”

She raised a brow at my words, a sly smile playing at her lips, “Doesn’t concern me? You’ve latched onto Artemis’ wrist so tightly I’m afraid her wrist will snap if I let it continue. She’s my sister too so I’d like to ask you to let her go.” She said, her voice sickly sweet as she stopped in her tracks to stand next to Artemis.

Seeing as I didn’t make a move to let go she grabbed onto my arm, her fingers digging into my arm. Even still, I refused to let go, staring Athena down. I’m sure the two of us would’ve gotten physical with one another had he not shown up.

“What do you two think you’re doing? Athena let go of Apollo and Apollo let go of Artemis.”

Our gazes immediately darted over to Poseidon as he closed the distance between us, glaring at us. My grip loosened the moment I saw him, Athena doing the same until we had dropped our hands back to our sides.

“Uncle…” I muttered, turning to face him properly

He sighed heavily, looking over the three of us, “You know the consequences for starting a fight up here. You’re lucky I was the one that found you and not your short tempered father.”

“Of course, I’m sorry for causing a disturbance.” Athena said before bowing her head slightly and taking Artemis away.

I stared after the two, my suspicions growing by the second. Athena obviously has something to do with this...I just know it. If anyone wanted to get rid of Ares it’s her, now I just need to find out why and how she made it happen. I groaned low in my throat as I was snapped out of my thoughts by a rough hand clamping down on my shoulder harshly.

“It's not like you to lose your temper like that.” Poseidon said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

I let my gaze fall down to the floor, my shoulders deflating, “I know, I just, I lost control for a bit. Too many things are going on up here,” I pointed up at my head, “And then Artemis goes on to say things that just makes things more complicated and then Athena showed up and-” I cut myself off with a heavy sigh, rubbing my hands over my face, “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He gave me a once over before reaching over and ruffling my hair, “It's best to figure things out with a clear mind, not with your emotions running wild. You’re smart Apollo, I’m sure whatever it is that’s making you think so hard will get sorted out soon. Just keep a cool head about it.”

And with that he left me alone. I waited until his footsteps had faded into nothing before I inhaled sharply, burying my face in my hands and crouching. Everything was so fucked from the get go and what? A whole century later I’m barely trying to figure out the truth? I really am the worst aren’t I?

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I winced, his grip tighter than I anticipated. Yeosang had proposed the idea of teaching me how to defend myself in light of what had happened a few weeks ago. I didn’t really have the heart to tell him that it was unnecessary so here I was, underneath Yeosang as he twisted my arm behind my back, pretended I couldn’t easily reverse this. Ever since I had agreed to have him be my ‘teacher’ I’ve been debating if I should tell him about my situation. But every time I wanted to bring it up I would chicken out at the last minute. Doubts about whether he would believe me would fill my head and I had a feeling he might think I’m strange and cut ties with me and that’s the last thing I wanted.

“Hey...you okay? I wasn’t being too rough with you was I?” He asked, sitting down next to me, his brow furrowed in concern.

I gave him a small smile, shaking my head, “No, I’m fine.”

I avoided his eyes as I moved my gaze back to look towards the sea. Maybe I should tell him...or at least hint at the fact that there’s something keeping me from fighting. I sighed heavily as I just went back and forth in my head, the discussion I was having with myself giving me a bit of a headache. Just as I thought I was going to lose my mind I was dragged out of my head by Yeosang’s touch. My eyes widened slightly at how close he was all of a sudden. I could feel his fingers brushing gently over my cheek as he leaned in closer, staring into my eyes with concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, worry laced in his tone, his voice deeper than usual as he spoke softly.

My breath hitched in my throat, my heart beating so loud it was the only thing I could hear. I placed my hand on his chest and gently pushed him back, bowing my head to hide the blush that took over my whole face. I could feel my hand shaking ever so slightly against his firm chest. I know I should pull my hand away but I couldn’t find it in myself to do it. My heart had been going into overdrive whenever he did something unexpected. I had concluded that it was just his looks that had me like this but recently, after having spent more time with him alone, I’m starting to think that might not be the case.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” I raised my head to look at him against my better judgment, momentarily forgetting just how close he was.

When I saw how much closer he got a gasp fell from my lips, my face going beet red again. I scrambled to my feet before he or I could even think to try and close the distance between us. He looked confused as I rushed to gather my things, his eyes following my every move.

“I--I just remembered my father wanted me home before dinner so I really should get going. I had a great time today, I was under you for most of the time but I actually quite liked it. Uh, shit, what I meant to say was I should practice so I can come out on top, but that might be worse for my heart now that I think about it.” I rambled on, my brain yelling at me to just shut up but my mouth wasn’t listening.

-Yeosang’s P.O.V-

A bemused smile made its way onto my face as she continued on with her rambling for a while before finally saying goodbye and hurrying away. A chuckle full of affection fell from my lips as I watched her go, my heart feeling light.

“Damn...had you just stayed still for a second longer I think I might have actually kissed you...” I muttered to myself, placing a hand over my chest, my heart still beating quickly.

I had unintentionally leaned in way too close at first but when she pushed me away ever so gently with a trembling hand and a face so red it rivaled the tomatoes sold by her father I couldn’t help myself and got even closer a second time. The way she seemed to lose all composure had my heart racing. A grin played on my lips when I played back her rushed words.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a look like that on your face before, it suits you well.”

I tensed up at the sound of his voice, looking over my shoulder to see Apollo slowly approach me. The look on my face immediately morphed into a glare, the light in my eyes having gone dark the moment I laid eyes on him. I set my jaw as I pushed myself off the ground, standing as he stood before me.

“Quite bold of you to appear in front of me when I clearly told you I would not spare you the next time I saw you.” I spat out, ignoring the frown that appeared on his face at my words.

“I’m not here to provoke you or to start anything with you. I...I just wanted to talk.” He said, his voice low, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing.

I scoffed, a smirk making its way onto my face, “Oh? You want to talk? Now? After a hundred years? Don’t make me laugh, Apollo. I have nothing to say to you and nothing you say will mean anything to me, not now,” I said, keeping my voice even. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from saying too much, from showing too much. I refused to show just how vulnerable I really was. I had been relying on my rage to keep my true feelings hidden and even then I had slipped up a few times but I won’t do it again. I’ve been hurting for way too long and I’ve finally, finally started to feel something other than the constant pain I’ve been feeling for the past century and I’m not about to let him or anyone else ruin it. I turned on my heel and began to walk away from him.

“I know my words mean nothing now, not after a hundred years of staying silent but please, I’m begging you to hear me out,” He pleaded with me but I just kept walking, that is until he spoke again, “Brother please!”

Hearing him call me brother like this, after what he did to me, or should I say after what he didn’t do, something in me finally snapped. I don’t know if it was my heart or the self control I had been clinging onto every time I saw him but it shattered right before my eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from turning back around and stomping over to him.

“You have no right, absolutely no right to call me that! Not after all this time!” I shouted, reaching out to roughly grab his collar when I got close enough, “I stopped being your dear brother the moment you turned your back on me, the second you stabbed me in the back,” I growled through gritted teeth. I had hoped my eyes only showed the anger I was feeling but I knew, the instant his eyes glazed over, I knew they had betrayed me and showed just how hurt I really was by it all.

“I know nothing I can say will restore the bond we had and I will live with my mistake for as long as I live,” He let out, his voice breaking as a single tear fell from his eye. “And I am so sorry. I know my words mean nothing to you but I--I am sorry, truly sorry I did not stand by your side when you needed me most.”

I inhaled sharply, his words making my heart ache in my chest. I furrowed my brow before I pushed him away, turning my back on him so he couldn’t see the look on my face. I could feel my own tears threaten to fall but I held them at bay, bowing my head for a moment as I covered my mouth with the back of my hand.

“What is it that you want, Apollo?” I asked, somehow managing to keep my voice from breaking.

A second of silence passed before I heard a sigh leave his lips, “I believe you were set up.”

A dry chuckle fell from my lips as I turned to face him, “You think? I begged you all to believe me, to believe that I would never do that with Aphrodite or do that to Hephaestus but no one--no one fucking believed a word I said.”

He had the decency to at least bow his head in shame, avoiding my gaze, “I’ve been thinking and no matter how hard I try I can’t remember what it was I supposedly saw that day. A century is nothing to us so there’s no way time chipped away at my memory like that. And...I’ve asked Artemis and she told me not to dig any deeper. I don’t know how involved she is with all of this but she knows something,” He explained, still not meeting my gaze, “But I think Athena is the one who’s behind it all. It wouldn’t be too hard to believe either, she hates you more than anyone I know, she always has. If you just gave me some time then I could help you clear your name and come home.”

I listened to him speak with a blank expression on my face, the tears that had wanted to fall now having dried up, “Come home? Even if my reputation was restored why the hell would I want to go back there? Even before this incident you’ve all looked at me with contempt, as if I was beneath you, simply for being the way I was. You think I didn’t know what was said about me amongst my own siblings? I knew all the horrid things you’ve all said about me and yet I never let any of those things stop me from loving you all. I put up with it because you all were family but my love was wasted on all of you,” I said matter of factly, ignoring the lump I felt in my throat, “I’m just tired of it all Apollo. I was banished, forbidden from ever setting foot in Olympus ever again and I’ve finally given up on going back. What good would it do me to go back anyway? I was never happy there but here…I have her.”

He flinched when I mentioned her, his hands balling into fists at his side, “Does it have to be her?”

“There’s no one else but her.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled slowly through his nose but said nothing more. I sighed heavily and went to turn on my heel and walk away from him but before I did I said one last thing, “Artemis is right Apollo, don’t dig any deeper. What happens to me doesn’t concern you anymore so I’d prefer it if you stopped trying to fix something that I don’t even want to fix anymore. I just want to live my life here, with Y/N, in peace. I deserve at least that much don’t I?”

And with that I finally walked away from him, just barely catching his words, “I’m sorry...big brother...”

I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, feeling it tremble as the tears I thought had disappeared made themselves known once again. I didn’t know where I was headed, my thoughts empty as my feet continued to move. I felt numb, unable to feel anything around me. I hadn’t felt like this since I was banished, uttering a curse when I felt a tear trail down my face.

I don’t know for how long I walked for but I snapped out of my stupor when I heard her voice. She looked like she was about ready to go to bed, her brows furrowed with worry as she walked over to me, the light in her hand illuminating her face beautifully. I guess I had made my way over to her place unconsciously but I’m glad I did it. Seeing her just erased all of my worries, her words blurring together but her voice still reached me. Without thinkin I reached out and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, bringing her into a tight hug, accidently knocking the light from her hand. I felt her tense up under my arms but she quickly eased into my embrace, her hand cautiously at my sides.

“Is something wrong? You’re shaking…” She mumbled, her hands now rubbing my back in a reassuring manner.

I shook my head, inhaling shakily, “No...nothing’s wrong...at least not anymore…” I said that but my voice couldn’t hide the pain I was feeling. She sighed against my shoulder before pulling away, grabbing my hands with hers.

“Come inside, I’ll make you a hot cup of tea to warm you up.” She said gently, her thumbs rubbing circles against the back of my hand.

“I don’t think your father would like that very much.” I answered her with a slight shake of my head.

She averted her gaze, her blush visible thanks to the moonlight, “He’s not home. He had something to take care of away from home. He won’t be back for a few weeks.”

I raised a brow, a small smile playing at my lips, “And he left you here alone? I doubt he’d do that.”

“I uh, told him we couldn’t afford to close up shop for that long. And I...I didn’t want to spend that much time away from you…” She said, her voice trailing off.

I chuckled softly, the feelings that had become so painful to me now gone with her standing in front of me. That’s right. If I had her I didn’t care about anyone else, not my father, not my mother, and not my siblings. I didn’t care if the whole world hated me, as long as she was by my side I could forget about it all. I just hope this happiness I feel when I’m with her lasts.

Series tags : @btrombley13

General Tags : @mirror-juliet

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yhs-grian-rights · 4 years

Note

Sorry to bother you, but what the hell happened with Sam? I knew he's a fuckin douche but what the hell happened here?

Well I've had alot of people ask what the hell went down, so I guess I'll answer it here!

A 'callout' post was posted on twitter, where they talked about all the weird content that is present in yhs,TS and KoV. The post itself I believe claims that it's not trying to cancel Sam the content creator, but meant to spread awareness, and dare they ask, have content warnings for their videos? Preposterous.

Anyway, it got people talking, good, people were getting educated and properly warned about the content. But that also gained the attention of Sam. One would usually apologize or clarify, or simply brush it off, but that would be too easy lol. I mean, holy shit Sam, dude if you're reading, you could have easily said 'oh that was 5 years ago, and I'm not like that anymore' and boom, it would have been done, I mean there was proof but still, most would have agreed. People can change. It's normal. I myself probably wouldn't have agreed with being called out if it was something that was done years ago, I think it's a shitty thing to do. But, instead of that, he DEFENDED himself, even said "I will continue making the same jokes where I see fit" WHICH IS??? HUH. He basically dug his own grave when he said that, where do you possibly see fit to make rape and suicide jokes???? In a Minecraft roleplay?? The fuck?

Anyway, I am not active on Twitter so I didn't see it all go down apart from screenshots and links. So I'll skip directly to the part that had to force me to get involved in this shit show.

Out of nowhere, Sam and Baylee (his sister) joined the server. The kinnie server (wheeze). And emediatelly a "discussion" as they called it, happened. It was 2 am so I was asleep at the time, but my friend rightfully handled the situation to have a proper discussion. You can see the highlights of it in Mika's post about it, where she simply asked that a content warning would be appropriate, seeing as kids watch his videos (which he denied, which is stupid cuz do you think 18 year olds were the target audience of yhs when it came out??? You don't have control over who watches your videos, but it's Minecraft roleplay, what do you expect lmao) the mod ended up kicking them out (we have bragging rights now for kicking Sam from our server lol).

But, the thing that strikes me odd is the fact that he looked through our chat. Looked through conversations of 14-17 year olds. He's almost 30. Yeah that sounds about right. He was trying to dig dirt on us. Found a "kill me" comment, and thought that yes, we too are as bad as him, because simply saying kill me is equivalent to showing a hanged block man on a video to millions of kids. Nice! Guess we're all cancelled!

Im sure some friends of Sam linger in the server. I've heard he's trying to doxx Mika, a minor, for documenting a conversation that was public in the server. Which is also incriminating.

No one is asking for him to be a saint, or even agree on what should and shouldn't be joked about. Humor is subjective after all, if he really wants, he can keep making those shitty jokes, it would be cool if he didn't! Yet again, young people watch those videos and it's kinda fucked up. But I won't be policing what you can and can't do, I don't have a life but come on I got better things to do lol. The thing everyone is asking for, is proper content warning, literally just add warnings in the description or title. You might find the jokes funny but you can't deny it's a sensitive issue. He warns people for swearing but not for dark humor? It's a bit silly.

Anyway yeah that's some of main stuff that's been going on. Were tired.

#ask #bunny burnt soup #long post

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oristromboli · 3 years

Text

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 1

Chapter 1: Haunted Memories

In which you grapple with past events bleeding into the present.

(Smut this chapter: none)

“The arrogation of mankind ends here.”

Things became a blur after that – your wings burst forth and you saw the twins take off in opposite directions as you split down the middle. Like some dance, the three of you wove between oscillating pillars of dark shapes folding in on themselves before all converged in on the imposing woman. She was no different from any other gate, any other obstacle you needed to cross between worlds; while you were often the one to suggest the quiet and efficient route, the twins charged forward with one clear goal in mind. Two-against-one were bad odds, especially when it was you between a rock and a hard-place – or, more accurately, squeezed between one twin and the other. You pitied the god as she braced for their combined onslaught, clearly unaware of what hell would rain down-

Except. Except, suddenly, you witnessed the twins suspended in mid-air, caught and strung up for their audacity.

You didn’t think, you couldn’t think, you dove for the first twin you saw and yanked them away from that void that crept from her fingers.

Lumine looked up, shocked and horrified all at once, and indescribable shame turned to ice in your blood. While you held on to Aether, you both witnessed Lumine become swallowed in that blackness, that.. nothingness, and you could only let go of Aether as he shot forward to flank the god.

His sword was drawn and in a flash of light did it seem to make contact. You quickly joined his side with hopes to see Lumine amidst the chaos. Everything would be okay again, you three could go back to adventuring, she would forgive the split-second decision, you told yourself. That is, until you saw the god tall and proud with barely a scoff as she looked at you two without even the decency of contempt. In that moment, you suddenly understood the impulsive twins’ tempers. You both dove towards the god, weapons drawn and red in your eyes.

Wait. Wait, no, that’s not right. The red was neither your anger nor panic, but the god’s powers enclosed on you both.

“Wait! Stop! Give my sister back!” Aether cried, and you closed your eyes, wishing to all the stars above that this was all a dream and you could stop suffocating –

---

“Paimon! Paimon, get off of her,” Aether said, laughing as he lifts the fairy off of your chest and what the fuck Paimon.

“Aw, Paimon just wanted to help! She wasn’t waking up, so Paimon thought that shaking her would help,” she said, pouting as you felt her tiny paws release your shirt to only hang limply as she was carried like a sack of potatoes away from you. Emergency rations indeed.

“Okay, we need to have a serious talk about you and personal boundaries,” you mutter while you sit up, massaging feeling back into your collarbone. “If you don’t want to be designated as mascot number two behind our lil’ buddy, I suggest you start losing some weight before sitting on me.” You jerk your thumb towards Aether’s belt where a small glass ball hung and a golden Seelie flickered rhythmically. Is it snoring?

“Hey! Paimon is not mascot number two! And Aether’s cooking is too good…” she mumbles, flipping between indignant to having the gall to look somewhat guilty as she breaks free from his grasp. That didn’t last long, though, as Aether snickers with an incriminating finger poking the fairy.

“So, you admit to being our mascot?”

You very quickly tune their bickering out and set out about collecting your own bedroll before moving on to Aether’s. Most of your powers were sealed except for the few convenient ones, such as access to a subspace for storage and the ability to travel quickly within Teyvat, but otherwise, everything else was left for discovery. In that way, organizing your campsite became quick and easy work on the days that you weren’t woken by Hilichurls looking to turn your bedrolls into breakfast burritos.

Actually, scratch that. Hilichurls are better than Paimon ‘accidentally’ strangling you.

Aether’s laugh rings clear around you as he stretches his lithe body, already limber and prepared for the day. He never seemed to care much about comfortable beds – or, well, any basic comforts – but Paimon is right, he makes damn good meals. In your many months on Teyvat looking for Lumine, you both fell into a steady rhythm where he cooked and acted as a de facto leader while you archived everything you came across. Between the three – no, the two of you - you were often the one taking notes and painting the landscape around you in an effort to remember these adventures while Aether acted as the beacon of hope for the locals.

Even if Aether fills Lumine’s role easily, you can tell it was never comfortable.

You pause at that thought, glancing over to Aether who was making very exaggerated gestures to what you can only assume are his steps for Paimon à la carte. The ball holding your new friend bounces around with his movements, but the Seelie inside seemed unperturbed, if you were being honest. He never parted with the creature, and you were sure it was equally possessive of its new master.

In his own way, you think Aether tries to be subtle about it: between the Seelie’s ethereal golden glow and its headstrong personality, you can’t help but notice how he cradles the ball with a forlorn expression some nights. It was only polite to roll over in your pretend-sleep and very pointedly not comment. When he wasn’t wrapped around the ball, you laid next to him and held him as tightly in silent understanding, often falling asleep tangled like that.

The tear stains are always ignored the morning after.

You swallow around a sudden lump and turn around, fumbling for your own journal to see the next tasks for the day. Despite your own emotions, you know that Aether doesn’t blame you, he told you himself many times and says that there was only one of you. Still, you can’t help but wonder if - while he doesn’t blame you per se - he wishes it was Lumine you chose and not him. Ever the self-sacrificing big brother.

A red thread lies hidden in the page you left off, acting as a sort of make-shift bookmark. Wrapped in knots and with a sort of tender care for the regal dragon with amber eyes near the bottom is a single Starconch, dangling around with each gentle breeze. If anybody asks you, you would deny it vehemently, but you swore you could hear laughter from that conch sometimes from another big brother. Twirling the sapphire item, you can’t help the bittersweet smile that breaks out on your face against the stupid memory.

---

You decided to stray from Liyue that day, most of your daily commissions done with Aether treating Paimon to dinner afterward. Like two parents, you switched days on who gets the honors of taking the overgrown child while the other relishes in time for themselves. It was natural; though you were used to traveling as a pack, sometimes you just… needed to get away.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with that idea as you soon spied a figure lounging in the sandy beaches close to the city. When you were close enough to see the scarf billowing in the breeze, you stopped and immediately held your breath. Shit, shit, shit, did he know you were here? Maybe if you just quietly turned around, you could get away and leave the Eleventh Harbinger alone. Not that you were strangers to each other. Far from, actually, as you grew friendly with each other over the many weeks - or has it been months? Time flows differently in this world – spent together in Liyue.

“Hey, girlie,” he calls without looking your way and you freeze. Whelp, there goes that plan.

“H-hey,” you stutter, only to stop and tap your throat lightly before trying again. “Hey, Childe. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He snickers and turns then with a wide smile, yet it wasn’t as feral as you expected. If anything, he seems distant. “No, you’re fine. Looking for some peace and quiet from that stir-fry?”

“Oh, how did you know,” you say with a small smirk as you walk closer. Childe looks up at you and pats the sand next to him. No harm in that, sure, you could sit down. He was better company than Paimon at the moment, anyway. At that thought you grimace briefly, when the hell did you want to spend more time with a Fatui Harbinger? Still, you join him in watching the waters dance across the sand.

Okay, yeah, you can admit the view is gorgeous. Liyue never fails you in that regard with its mountains and crystal clear waters. The trees are always an explosion of color while the geography varies dramatically from one corner to another. You're certain Childe thought the same despite his incessant complaints about the heat.

Which, speaking of, he was unusually quiet and focused. When you glance at him, you only notice then he was thumbing a small, blue shell with a star on it. He catches your eye and holds up the conch. “Mm? This? You know, there’s an old legend in Liyue that says that if you hold the conch up to your ear, you can hear what your heart longs for,” he says as he flicks the conch to your hands. “For most, that’s the sea, of course. All the boats, all the business opportunities. Maybe you’ll hear the gremlin’s whining?”

You punch his shoulder lightly while he laughs, all the while eyeing you carefully. Maybe this was your cue to listen? However, when you hold the conch up, you didn’t hear the sea at all. Almost… suffocatingly empty, like… Your eyes widen, imperceptible to all except for damnably sharp Harbinger who you felt nudging against your foot from his own. “So? What’d you hear?”

“I hear… the ocean. The one between worlds,” you lie before you held it back out to him.

Childe guessed yours and Aether’s otherworldly - or rather, "not human" as he put it - status early on. You weren’t surprised coming from someone who carefully pointed out the use of elemental powers without visions, so you never bothered to obfuscate your stories from other realms too deeply. How Zhongli suspected, however, was beyond you at the time. The funeral consultant dismissed Aether’s questions with a lazy wave and this is no more strange than adepti in teapots.

Your companion shakes his head and wraps his gloves around yours, closing the conch into your fist.

“The ocean between worlds, huh?” Childe looks up then, something… something dark and inaccessible in his eyes again. You purse your lips and lower your eyes. “You know, I hear whales. The ones in the ocean here… They call out and follow each other,” he finishes, the pause in his sentence enough to be nearly visceral. He turns to you, eyes wicked and teeth bared in a wide smile. “Maybe they’re looking for a good kill?”

You snort. It became quite easy for you to dismiss these little moments of vulnerability, to close your eyes and forget. Ironic, considering you spent your waking days desperately trying to remember. “Maybe. Maybe there are some up there, looking for their next adventure. They’re… never alone, you know,” you murmur and ignore the curious look Childe gave you, “they have constellations all around them. To guide them home.”

“Sure,” he scoffs and stands. All of a sudden, that vulnerability was stamped underfoot like a stray pest. Did you say something wrong? Regardless, it’s unavoidable that some of the sand flies in your face from Childe’s movement, but you take the opportunity to swat him in fake annoyance nonetheless. Score one for you, zero for Fatui. Childe chuckles and offers his hand, which you take gratefully and will not comment on his tight grip while he dusted your back off, nope. You will not.

It wasn’t a long walk back to Liyue and the two of you fell into an easy banter. Well, easy for Childe since he ruthlessly pinpointed your pet peeves for exploitation, but you enjoy him nonetheless. This felt natural, dancing between the lines of friend and enemy.

Along the docks, the two of you run into Zhongli examining tapestries from a stand.

“Ah! Zhongli! What a surprise finding you here!... ” No it isn’t.

“... Just browsing, I see. What are you planning on buying?...” You mean what you are going to buy, Childe.

“... Is there anything we can help with?” Help the walking encyclopedia of Liyue? The entire time your face twists more in your incredulity at the implication of Zhongli requiring anything other than Mora. Still, you nod along, if only to hear Zhongli speak at length about the history associated. You are, after all, a curator of all things practical in knowledge.

The fact that his warm voice sends shivers to your core was just a bonus, honest.

Zhongli’s eyes shimmer as he looks at the two of you, crinkling faintly along the edges. “Indeed, I would greatly appreciate assistance in deciding which pattern to buy.” He turns back to the stand with a hand resting on his chin, and you flank Zhongli’s right while Childe goes to his left. “This design over here depicts Glaze Lilies in bloom, a wondrous sight most rare these days in Liyue. A moment preserved for all to appreciate. Over here, we see the clouds descending upon the mountains of Liyue…”

So you told yourself you were going to listen to Zhongli, but you suddenly can’t help staring at a long, crimson token. The strings appear to be woven in complicated patterns, but when you look closer, you realize that the patterns are dragon scales that meet on a wild head with Cor Lapis eyes. How curious. Once upon a time, you were sure a design like this would have adorned the walls of kings of yore, yet now it only serves as a cheap souvenir.

The single thought of pretty propels you grab it.

Of course, this does not go unnoticed by Zhongli and Childe. You felt the silence rather than heard it; in that moment, you look to their inquisitive gazes, eyes wide and face as flushed as the dragon. “I… I. I saw this and. It’s… Pretty. Pretty nice,” you lamely explain, suddenly at a loss for words when the full force of their combined gaze is set upon you. Stars and gods above, that was pathetic. Tourist trap sprung.

Childe’s smile grows indulgent and Zhongli’s tight-lipped expression never moves while his shoulders barely trembled. They… thought this was cute. Great. You purse your lips and turn away, mumbling obscenities under your breath. Still, a traitorous grin comes as you felt Childe’s hand settle on your shoulder as he not-so-subtly breaches your personal space after side-stepping the funeral consultant.

“A pretty token for a pretty girl, no?” he coos and leans forward to inspect the trinket in your hand.

“Childe possesses an expensive eye,” Zhongli agrees and his voice floods your other ear as the older man follows Childe’s lead. His rich timbre petrifies you, and you could only stand there with a white-knuckle grip while you listen to their appraisal. “In Liyue, an invisible red string is said to entwine the fate of all those caught in its distinct pattern, destined to meet regardless of time or circumstance. Never will it break, safeguarded by the divine itself. Even the tangled pandemonium it may cause would lead only to a grander, more intricate pattern at journey’s end. Perhaps this will lead you to your destination?”

“Zhongli, as much as I appreciate Liyue’s customs and stories, isn’t this a little too on the nose? Saccharine to the very end indeed,” Child snickers. Still, when he notices your crestfallen expression at his bickering, he gazes at Zhongli again before you hear your name called softly. “Hey. Let’s make a deal, yes?”

“What? No, no, no I am not making a deal with a Fauti Harbinger,” you immediately hiss and whip around. Damn the fallen Geo Archon, you will not be beholden to the whims to a Harbinger in the land that once belonged to the God of Contracts. In a desperate bid for allies, you beg your other friend, who was suddenly and conveniently interested in another token on the stand. Damn him too, you decide.

“Come on, pretty bird,” Childe says and pokes your side.

“I think I liked it better when you called me pretty girl.”

“Ah, no no, pretty bird because you always cry when the cats come over to play.”

“I do not, fuck you very much. And did you just call yourself a cat -?”

“I promise, this is a deal you’ll like. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I’ll buy it anyway.” Childe waves his hand to the vendor to barter. Before long, he returns triumphant with the long thread in hand and gently lays it in your own in the same manner he did with the Starconch shell. “Y’ready to hear my deal?”

“No.”

“In return for me generously buying you this,” he continues, ignoring your very pointed is this how he treats you, Zhongli and the amused no, simply you in response, “I want your end of the deal to be carrying this with you, in that little journal you think we don’t see you scribbling in.”

Your face immediately flushes with indignation. “Like a bookmark? Why?”

“Because,” Childe says while he carefully wraps the end closest to the dragon’s head around the shell. By the time he’s finished, the dragon looks to be gripping the glimmering item and protective amber eyes gaze upwards to the heavens, ignorant to Zhongli’s intense scrutiny. “Because, sweet thing, I think Zhongli’s right. The Hero of Mondstadt, a Fatui Harbinger, and a funeral consultant all walk into a bar – “

“That is not how I remember our first meeting, Childe.”

“ – and forgive our dear comrade’s ignorance of Snezhnayan jokes. Point being, I don’t want you to forget this,” he says, winking when you blink owlishly. It’s hard to remember that you’re supposed to hate this man and hate his sentimentality.

“This… this is your attempt to piss me off, isn’t it? Make me never forget I’m friends with a Harbinger? Put a mark on my back that says ‘I.O.U.’?”

“Aw, now why would I do that? You wound me!” Childe pretends to be hurt before elbowing you with all the mischief you would see Aether give you before charging a Hilichurl camp. “Besides, you said it yourself, friend. I just want to be remembered. That’s the only debt you owe.”

As much as you wanted to hit Childe then, you both turn when you hear Zhongli’s rumbling chuckle. You lean forward against Zhongli opting to hit him instead and relish in his little grunt to your effort, clearly only putting on a show for humor’s sake. “Wow. Is this a gift from you too, Zhongli?”

“Hey! I paid for it!”

“Thank you,” you say fondly. “Except… Except I have nothing in return. Zhongli told me about how he gave you chopsticks, and you two gave me this – never mind how you even pay for Zhongli’s entire life. How can I…” You look down then, somber of the fact you are in the land of contracts.

(All must be fair in love and war.)

“How can I make this fair?” you settle, gazing up suddenly. Childe only laughs, characteristic of his lackadaisical attitude and oh stars you know this is going to bite you in the ass. You feel Zhongli’s hand rest on your hip and when you turn to him, he’s -

Oh gods he’s so close -

“Your company is enough, dear bird. Now come. I am in need of eyes tempered by travels outside of Liyue. It is refreshing to see these items anew.” He pivots on his heel and walks further along the docks without turning behind to check whether you and Childe would follow. You both do, of course, but not without half-hearted grumbles at his presumptuousness.

It became easier then, the bickering between you and Childe with Zhongli only stepping in when he cared enough to distract your verbal blows for opinions on his next purchase. That, of course, only led to the two of you turning on the refined gentlemen, determined to crack that stony exterior as punishment for his ridiculous disregard for money. How immature, how… childish. Damn it.

You hear your name being called. “Hey, hey, are you listening? Hey-“

---

“Heyyy!” Paimon says, floating in front of your face while Aether snaps his fingers. Blinking awake, you snap to attention. Aether had gathered the rest of your supplies, and the three of you were ready to continue on your travels by foot to gather ingredients on approach to Dragonspine. “Hey! Paimon asked if you were ready to go?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah I am. Sorry, was just trying to remember our, ah… next commissions,” you mumble before putting the journal away. Paimon gazes at you sympathetically then. With a sharp turn on your heel, you began walking towards the mountain with a renewed bounce in your step and lame determination to ignore Paimon’s pity. “C’mon! Better to get there sooner rather than later, yeah?”

Aether jogs to catch up and flicks his eyes between you and Paimon in some grand conspiracy. “Think if Paimon eats the last of our goulash again, we can use her as a hot blanket?” You both laugh, whipping around then to stare at the aforementioned fairy who only gulps.

“Paimon, ahh, Paimon is going to go scout ahead! Can never be too careful!” she chirps before floating ahead at a speed you only ever saw her gain when she spies a fresh meal. You were thankful, though. It’s no secret how you hurt these past few months since Childe’s departure to Schnezaya after his release of Osial. In many ways, that disaster became old news with the citizens of Liyue eager to remember the event only as of the fond ascension of the Liyue Qixing’s power rather than the near-death blow from the Vortex God. The peaceful Rite of Descension held after solidified the transition into the age of men. Though rumors were abound of Childe’s – no, Tartaglia’s – involvement, they were quickly muddled with the Fatui emphasizing new business opportunities in an attempt to let it all be “water under the bridge.”

Rather, they attempted to save face while Ningguang squeezed them under her golden thumb as retribution. Ultimately though, nobody truly witnessed Childe himself summoning the god of old.

That doesn’t make his actions any better after knowing. If anything, you find it almost easier to forgive – bitter in your private admission – since he acted only within his nature, no more and no less. Understanding was swift after you and Aether were somehow roped into helping him wrangle Teucer, a spitting image of the stubborn Childe you knew and not bloodthirsty Tartaglia, before his return to Schnezaya. You couldn’t find it in yourself to truly hate him after the Fatui’s blatant trust in you two to keep his secret, even as you jot down a new quest afterward: ‘Strangle Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, at your next meeting.’

Before his departure from the Northland Bank, you even had the courtesy to warn him under your breath when you hugged him farewell. He naturally returned the sentiment and squeezed harder in emphasis.

Yep. Reasonable. Single-minded friends to the end.

No, you hate the Fatui more. Whether Tartaglia ever forgives his conniving comrades – and the Tsarista - is something for the stars to witness. You know how deeply he respected the Tsarista for her frigid yet imperial attitude, something borne from the experience of a true warrior who courted death head on, whose pale complexion was forever marred by the scarlet slaughter. The only time you saw light in his eyes was when he waxed poetry of her carnage, much to Paimon’s disgust.

His contempt for deceit often warred with his pragmatic attitude of “the ends justify the means.” Despite his misgivings, he acted within his orders perfectly. He even expressed his distaste for unnecessary power demonstrations, a complete contrast to your false assumption and Signora’s patronizations over his desire for chaos. The reward? Being used and tossed aside. With Tartaglia designated as a pawn in the Cryo Archon’s grand game instead of granted the bare decency for communication between commander and general, you couldn’t help but wonder where his opinions of her now lie. Even as he cursed Zhongli and Signora for leading him on, you heard humor lacing his words. You were sure that Tartaglia always suspected Zhongli to be more than a consultant, but the Tsaritsa’s blatant disregard for the Harbinger’s intelligence was offensive, even to you.

In the end, what Tartaglia really thinks of her now doesn’t matter. It never did.

No, you were – are, you desperately try to remind yourself – more disappointed with Zhongli, with Rex Lapis, the God of Contracts, the God of War, with fucking Morax. When you first came to Liyue with the intention of hunting down the Geo Archon, both you and Aether marveled at the Geo powers bestowed upon you from the first statue encountered out of Mondstadt. Surely, Aether pondered then, this meant that the Geo Archon approved of your Holy Grail quest. Instead, many months later and after some rather painful revelations, you both discovered that Zhongli – gentle, kind, and dear Zhongli – was none other than the stone-cold god instead. Aether tried convincing you for weeks that this was Zhongli’s nature, that as a god who walked Liyue for over six thousand years, he likely saw these as tactical maneuvers similar to the Archon War.

Aether, bless him, understood Zhongli’s reasoning deeply; after all, you two were likely thousands of years old yourselves despite stopping the count many centuries ago. You logically understand the desire for peace, but you can’t help the emotional betrayal.

Thankfully, Aether keeps most of his comments to himself. He knows you well enough to know why you were really upset, why your heart twists at the memories you spent with the former Archon, but he is wise enough to know when to pick his battles.

You still remember your bitter conversations with Zhongli afterwards, your rampage in seeking him out at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor for answers. Except, what answers could he give you that he didn’t already offer at the Golden House? Still, that didn’t stop you as you barreled forward, didn’t stop you from pounding against his stone-cold chest and meeting his irritatingly serene gaze as you demanded he sat down for what pitiful interrogation you could dish out on the God of War. Since that confrontation, you spent much of your time in Liyue attempting to harass – or reconcile? – with Zhongli.

As you approach the mountain’s base, you feel Aether’s hand on your shoulder and his soft voice, “She didn’t mean it you know. She’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll bet you, I don’t think she’s forgiven him either. Paimon knows you’re trying, you’ve spent more time with Zhongli to repair things, but as much as she loves the fact that you’ve gotten him to pay for all our meals now, I'm pretty sure she’s still mad at him.”

You laugh then, and Aether perks up at your shift. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, matching his steps with yours as you snicker along. “Stars help the Lord of Geo, because he hasn’t face the fury of a hungry Paimon.”

---

“Promise me.”

“I understand.”

“No, Morax, you don’t. I need you to promise me.” You scowl hard, hands slamming on the desk as you stare deep into his amber eyes. He only passively stares back, but you knew him better than that. Those months of connection, of deeper understanding – even if you didn’t truly understand then it was because of two immortals who subconsciously recognized eternity in the other – gave you some advantages, such as recognizing that flicker of guilt across his eyes before disappearing. You don’t relent in your assault as you both ignore Aether and Paimon in the background tensely watching. “You owe us. That explanation at the Golden House and Rite of Parting was crap.”

"But Mr. Zhongli told us everything - "

"He gave us half the story, Paimon," you growl. "Isn't that right? How deep in with the Fatui were you? What did you tolerate?"

The air grows thick as memories of each Fatui camp obliterated run through your mind. You barely managed to stomach reading even half of the detailed accounts on the experiments conducted within Liyue. His eyes flick to the bags around your eyes, then towards the journal hanging by your side.

Zhongli’s fingers rap his table as his nostrils flare. Good. You got him on edge. Still, before you can say more, he relents and you try not to be disappointed. He knows when he is faced with an immovable mountain. With no more protest, Zhongli rummages for spare paper and ink before pulling both out and writes up a quick contract with a few lines of promises for total honesty. The pen narrowly avoids tearing the paper with the pressure. As he hands the paper to you, he never meets your eyes as he says, “It is important to me that you know I was authentic with you after Osial’s defeat. I hope this reassures and appeases your curiosity. If a physical symbol is required for what I have always given you, starlight, then so be it.”

Each word of his grows softer, yet only digs deeper daggers into your heart. Starlight. His own nickname for you to mirror Tartaglia’s pretty bird, yet you didn’t know why or how it came to be. Regardless, you take the contract and inspect his signature. Grabbing the pen from his hand – and with barely a flinch at his fingers lingering near yours – you sign your own name. “… Not always, clearly. It’s done,” you murmur and bring the contact with you to the fire behind him. All other parties in the room watch as you shuffle closer to the fire, ears straining for your next words that are nearly drowned in the incessant crackling. “You’re a lot like him, you know. Childe.”

Zhongli stiffens. “You have said so before.”

“You both see the world around you as means to an end, some limit to be pushed or some assessment to be passed. Is he… is he as bloodthirsty as you were, too? Back then?” He draws a sharp breath, though you don’t look behind you to see what expression he wears.

“… Yes. He is. I had expressed such sentiments to him before his departure. Childe only laughed, and… He told me that he knew there was a reason he liked me.” It takes all your willpower to not grip the contract any harder than you did, so you were proud of yourself, damn it. Still, you nod before tossing the contract into the fire.

Zhongli swiftly rises at that, and as you turn around, you watch his fierce eyes on you debate either questioning you or hurling a stone pillar towards you on pure instinct. Some habits die hard, it seems.

You only laugh, shoulders relaxing for the first time since Osial rose from the sea. “Zhongli.” He freezes, as if it were possible to become even tenser than he already is, and mouth parts lightly as you whisper his mortal name so sweetly. “All I needed to know was your willingness. I don’t care about contracts, I never even asked for it. Let’s not do that. It’s been six thousand years already, hasn’t it?”

He swallows thickly. “Yes. It has been.” Zhongli sits down and sweeps an arm out, gesturing for you three to take seats in front of his desk. Although you were the one to initiate the conversation, Aether and Paimon ask most of the questions while you keep your eyes glued to the desk in front of you. That didn’t stop you from feeling Zhongli’s eyes on you though, ever curious as to what was behind your own neutral complexion.

He taught you too well to hide your emotions; the thought alone is enough to crack the god of stone’s heart.

Unfortunately for the three of you, Zhongli can offer no explanation for their activities within Liyue. Although he was aware of some of their sickening actions, he was forced to turn a blind eye as he focused on the grander picture. Mortals needed to learn to handle affairs amongst themselves while he doubled his efforts in safeguarding what was personally important to him as he prepared to step down.

As you three were leaving his office – and after Paimon manages to convince Zhongli to pay for all her meals as recompense – you linger when you hear the former Archon call your name. When you turn back to see him, his own eyes aren’t meeting yours, but are instead taking the ring from around his thumb to place on the desk. What is the old idiot doing?

“I am not worthy of this gift,” he begins, closing his eyes as he shifts the ring forward. Copper floods your mouth from how tightly you bite your tongue then to keep from practically weeping at witnessing Zhongli attempt to give back the ring you gifted so many months ago. “You gave this to Childe and I as equal payment for our own gifts, yet you did this as promise to remain as true friends. I will not apologize for my actions, as I did what I believe to be right for Liyue as its Geo Archon.” His eyes open, resolute and vibrant. True to his word, there is no remorse for his manipulations. “As a mortal, however… I do not believe I have adequately upheld my end of the bargain. ”

Underneath his gloves, his knuckles go white from how tightly he clenches his fists in his lap.

“Zhongli…” You step forward to grab the ring before gently taking one of his hands. After unfurling his fist, you gingerly place the ring back in his palm. The ring you gave Zhongli is of a golden dragon wrapped around, biting its own tail. A symbol of eternity. For Tartaglia – Childe, you correct yourself, he was Childe then – you gave him a ring of silver and sea glass so brilliant, it acted as a mirror that could rival the ocean’s reflections. “Do you remember how Childe whined that my gift was impractical, compared to the utensils and bookmark?”

“Yes,” Zhongli says, smiling at the memory. “He complained that it would hinder battle as he gripped his bow.”

“Right. I said that it was so he would never forget how annoying I can be when I wanted to,” you giggle. “I gave this to you after you told me of how… of how all your friends forever shined like gold in your memories. I wanted to be like that too.” Before he could respond to your crack, you continue, purposefully cutting his thoughts off. “I know you promised to write Childe. He told me he made peace with you after bribery with some osmanthus wine. Something about learning how to be mortal, getting a chance to fight you, all that. He also told me he was ordered to keep you close as an asset, even if he didn’t understand why at the beginning. The Tsaritsa wants to keep tabs on your ‘progress’ and movements, I’m sure. For all of Tartaglia’s Fatuiness, he’s not very secretive about that sort of stuff. Guess he was glad to be done with those lies.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond and watches your face as you speak, so you took this as a cue to continue your speech as you withdrew your hands. You meet his gaze then. “I want you to let him know that I won’t try to make contact with him. I made my peace with him while Teucer was here, I harbor no bad blood. We were both pawns.” You ignore how Zhongli’s throat bobbed. “But I can’t keep contact with him. Not now, at least, not with where our mission is heading.”

After a long moment, the Geo Archon closes his eyes, before reopening to the imperial gaze the statues of him around the country forever etched. You both knew this was little more than a game, though. Nothing could make you bend the knee to any god before, why would you now? “Will you still visit me in Liyue?” he asks. For all of his age, you marvel at how lost he sounds.

A god who never learned how to be vulnerable, to be human.

“Yes, I promise, because you’re my friend.”

---

After that, the weeks crawled by, but you kept your promise. Ningguang saw fit to reward you, Aether, and Paimon with a reserved room in the finest inn at Feiyun Slope for whenever you passed through, as befitting of the Heroes of Monstadt and Liyue. Though the three of you collapsed on the floor in the apartment and wept honest-to-gods tears of joy of not having to open your wallet for once, you saw this as a cosmological suggestion for you to begin your journey of forgiving Zhongli.

Which, no, that was a lie actually. You knew deep down you already forgave Zhongli, that wasn’t the issue.

Long after Paimon retreated to her own bed tucked amongst an ungodly amount of pillows and blankets set in one of the larger windows, Aether sat you down in another windowsill to ask you honestly about your feelings on Zhongli and Childe. Thank the stars you knew Aether for centuries because he opened his arms instinctually as you sniffled and crawled over, burying your head into his chest as tears flowed openly for the first time since you both lost Lumine. After apologies and please let me wash your scarf I’m sorry I made it gross and no don’t you dare I ruin your shirts all the time, you began to confess how, for the first time, you felt dually matched tit-for-tat in these two men.

Tartaglia reminds you of the joys of adventures, of youth, of the difference between surviving and being alive while Zhongli gives you the stability that a mountain eternal would. He beckoned you through the history of Liyue with a warm smile, shared in your long conversations with Aether on the nature of life well into the night against the dawn, and stood steadfast as warden against your own anxieties of eternity despite not knowing then of his own timeless status.

Could it be helped that you fell as quickly as a star, set aflame with hopes of something more?

Yet, once again, luck proved to not be on your side. You remember in the days leading up to the battle with Osial at discovering how Zhongli and Childe would share long conversations or made time for meals regardless of busy schedules. Though you confessed to Aether that you recognize it was because both wanted to keep tabs on the other without revealing their ulterior motives, it didn’t fail to ignite anxiety, especially now that you knew Zhongli maintained correspondence with Childe, despite the former’s insistence that it was strictly friendly and contractual.

Stars, could you have felt any more like a selfish kid then? To want both men left you feeling equal parts angry with yourself and with them. How dare you allow yourself to get close to them? You should have left the socializing to Aether, fuck.

Combined with the fact that both men betrayed everyone involved and were shy of brawling each other in the Golden House, you couldn't help but feel that most - if not all - of the memories made were false. Bloodthirsty, warmongering, and ruthless in pursuit of their goals. Did they really care for any but themselves?

Aether held you tightly that night, singing songs in your shared native tongue that sounded of bells and twinkling glass to lull you into a fitful sleep. In the weeks after, you grew to become friendly with Zhongli once again, and if Aether didn’t know you any better, he would have said you moved on.

Except he did know you better.

Despite his own attempts at explanation, he knew you had to see for yourself what both he and Paimon witnessed during those long months spent in Liyue with Childe and Zhongli. He knew how frustrated the Harbinger and ex-Archon would grow, restless in their seats if you took too long escorting Paimon around the city to collect snacks. Aether got along like fire to a wooden house with the other two, all wit and not-so-professional humor. However, knowing that he fulfilled the diplomatic role to help others, you took the opportunity to try to irritate Childe where you could – at first because of his Fatui status, until it evolved into you and the Harbinger competing to elicit a laugh from present company without throwing hands.

While Aether certainly didn’t like to pry where it wasn’t his business – that was Kaeya’s modus operandi, thank you – he sometimes wondered if Childe and Zhongli viewed you and Aether as the guide to that murky area between mortal and divine. Their robust characters more than once reinforced his idea that Visions reflected personalities rather than the nation’s sovereign ruler. By extension, when he thought about how water crystalizes geo, he concluded that the speed Childe and Zhongli summoned shields and attempted to break them in a conversational dance whenever they were together was due to some deeper, instinctual urge.

That, or they were just nearly the same brand of deceitful, halfwitted idiots.

Perhaps that was why they felt comfortable constructing such a close friendship. To both of them, this merely played into some larger façade, all while convinced that the other was entirely fooled by the thick shield. Aether laughed to himself. The morons got so tangled in mental games, they unknowingly built a true and dependable relationship, if the blatant stress between them in the Golden House was anything to by.

Aether was not born yesterday. He didn’t survive these many millennium by not carefully observing the inhabitants of each world they visited. He is friendly, yes, but not ignorant. And how could he fault you for trying to find some sliver of happiness here, even if it was temporary? Stars above know his own heart ached each night.

That was why he was so sure you felt as comfortable around them as you did with Paimon and himself. The traveling troupe acted as a pacifying force for whatever the hell was going on between Childe and Zhongli being head deep in manipulations. In the little ragtag gang of the three travelers, none of you held tolerance for any bullshit and welcomed only peace, in whatever form a Fatui Harbinger and Geo Archon could manage.

He personally never doubted the authenticity of any sentiments, any stories expressed in conversations between all of you, even if you were now swimming with mistrust. The loneliness of not being able to trust anybody... He doesn't know if he can take much more abandonment after Lumine's entrapment. Everyone holds their own secrets, what they share always has a sliver of truth. Lies are built on that. By extension, Aether had no doubts that Childe and Zhongli were equal parts stubborn, righteous, and fucked up in their own uniquely Teyvaten ways.

At this point though, weren’t you all? Aether glumly drew his gaze upwards to the peak of the mountain. All of this for a five-thousand mora commission? Whoopee.

When the three of you grew closer to Dragonspine, he fell behind to gather tinder for a cooking fire to shake himself out of these deeper thoughts. As Aether returned, he couldn’t help his open fascination as Paimon played dodgeball with the small stones you were hurling at her when she kept commenting on your stove-building skills instead of helping.

In a hidden blessing, some things will never change. While rummaging through his subspace storage, the smile on his face quickly falls when he realizes –

“Guys. We have a problem.”

notes:

1) According to the game, starconches let you hear the ocean, no matter where you are. In a lot of religious texts (Buddhist, Egyptian, Mesopotamian, etc), the oceans are referenced as the bridge between heaven and earth, i.e. "bridge between worlds"

2) In one of childe's voicelines, he specifically references the Traveler wielding a lot of unusual powers without a vision

3) One of the MC's voicelines also references how time in Teyvat seems to be quicker with the days being so short

love yall <3

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #zhongli fanfiction #childe fanfic #zhongli fanfic #aether #genshin zhongli #genshin aether #genshin childe

19 notes · View notes

mumufic · 3 years

Text

My ranty Author Notes to address questions on my Three Sisters fic

So, I feel like I should put up some notes on a number of recurring questions I get in the comments, for those who don’t really read my responses (because I do provide some detailed explanations for why certain things are happening in my fic, but I get it if sloughing through comments for insight isn’t your thing; it isn’t mine either, hence the A/N.)

Why is Lily so stupid / obtuse / blind about Snape? Let’s level-set a couple of things: A) Lily is about as Gryffindor as they come, and some of the more common character flaws of people who belong to that house is that they rather tend to think a lot less of situations before diving in. That’s the case for Lily in this fic. Snape was her first magical friend that she’d ever met. She cherishes that friendship because she knows it’s returned even though she might not agree with a lot of Snape’s beliefs, not to mention Snape was the first person who told her that all the strange things that have been happening to her was the result of her being magical. For a child feeling the otherness of her abilities so keenly around her perfectly normal, muggle working class family, that is a huge thing. For the first time, Lily thought she’d met someone who understood her and the things she could do, and for that to have happened to her as a child, the person who validates that part of her being is going to play a very central role in her life until she reaches a breaking point. In the books, that breaking point was when Snape’s bigotry included her. For the longest time, he’d always excluded her from his hateful rhetoric, and there’s passages in the books that support that. B) Lily is a kid. She’s 11, and she probably met Snape at a much younger age (I’m guessing around 8 or 9) Kids who value their friends can sometimes be stupidly loyal to them even when their friends are behaving badly. Why do you think peer pressure is such a huge thing among young people? It’s partly because they value the person who is their friend to the point of being foolhardy over said friend’s bad actions. C) A lot of Snape’s bigotry goes over Lily’s head, because she’s never been taught to find differences between magical and non-magical people. Her parents obviously love her and Petunia the same and for her, that means they’re no different. She doesn’t understand the superiority Snape feels over Petunia, and because she doesn’t understand it, and also because she’s just a stupid kid who doesn’t really know better or even understands the slurs that come out of Snape’s mouth, she doesn’t think too much of it. Notice that Lily actually does call him out when he’s being mean to Petunia in ways that she can understand, when Snape tells Petunia that he had no place being in Platform 9 3/4 for example. But then Snape follows it up with reasoning that seems to be perfectly sound - Platform 9 3/4 is a magical location; it might not be the best place for Petunia to be. As for the spoon encounter, Lily had some basic understanding of accidental magic, thanks to Holly, and mostly chocked up that unfortunate event to Snape’s accidental magic rearing up from Petunia’s mean-spirited taunting. Petunia isn’t innocent in that scene, if you go back to it and think critically on it, look at it in the eyes of a normal rational adult. She’s just presented as being sympathetic because the narration is from Holly’s POV, and Holly likes this Petunia and hates Snape absolutely. Lastly, pretty much everything I have on Snape during the Summer with the Evanses part of this story have a basis in canon. He was hateful to Petunia, but Lily constantly made excuses for him, thinking that he’s just mean in general because of his difficult family life. The same goes when they get to Hogwarts. Snape spouts the same bigoted things the Slytherin Purebloods say, and Lily makes excuses for him. That’s canon. Lily made excuses for Snape’s behavior to her sister and her friends (especially Mary, who was canonically muggleborn) until she found she couldn’t anymore because his hatefulness suddenly spilled over to include her. Does that make Lily stupid? Probably, yes. Does it make her human? Fucking hell yes, and anyone who thinks that they won’t behave that way have clearly never figured out conflicted love-hate relationships with toxic people, so good for you, but these things happen to others, and it shouldn’t be surprising. There’s a basis for this in reality, and there’s a basis for Lily’s blind loyalty to Snape in canon. And barring all of that if you don’t agree, it’s my fic, and I choose to write her this way. If that makes her a stupid character and you think I’m assassinating Lily’s characterization from canon, your interpretation is valid, but so is my right to write what I want as long as I’m not making a cent off of this. Thanks.

Why is Sirius spouting the bigotry he vehemently disavowed in OoTP? And why did he call Holly a mudblood? I don’t know about you, but I think Sirius had to have been an extremely sheltered child, growing up in a magical house surrounded on all sides by a muggle neighborhood. I think he started questioning why he wasn’t allowed to play with other children whom he could probably see from his bedroom window, but he didn’t actually know how and why he needed to reason it out with his parents until he met people who taught him how to articulate the feelings he had over his parents’ bigotry against muggles and muggleborns. As for why he called Holly a mudblood, again, has a lot to do with the normalization of hate in the household he grew up in. Walburga and Orion Black taught their children to hate anything and anyone that didn’t subscribe to the same Pureblood rhetoric as they did. And since Sirius thought Holly lived with the Evanses, who were muggle, and not with the Potters who were Purebloods, he didn’t see a distinction for her blood status from Mary or Lily, who were actually muggleborn. Hell, I don’t even think Sirius understood blood status all that well at all as an 11-year-old. He was just repeating shit he heard his parents say because he didn’t know any better. I’m not going to tell you how to interpret your reading of my fic, but generally, I wouldn’t ascribe knowledge that I know of characters and events to the characters within the story, because they can’t be expected to know and understand what I know and understand, especially in a fic written in such a limited POV, and things like Holly’s blood status, would not be known to Sirius because Holly had never actually told James or him about her parents, other than that they were Potters. And while you can make a case for the fact that Holly told Sirius and Regulus in Chapter 7 that she’s not muggleborn, I still stand by the idea that the Black exclusionist ideas that Walburga and Orion taught their children would still have Sirius identifying her as one simply because of where he thinks she grew up in.

Why is Holly so stupidly letting so many details from her timeline out to her friends? I think we should all cut Holly some slack for spilling so many details about her life to Lily and Petunia. She’s an orphan who’ finally met the girl who would be her mother. She can’t shut up about her life because OMG my MUM! I finally got to meet her! On top of that, up until the point where Holly met Fleamont Potter, the last time Holly had been warned about meddling with time had been when she was in third year, and it was rushed and the warning hadn’t even been made to her; it had been McGonagall warning Hermione and Hermione repeating the same information to her. So the meddling about time? Holly didn’t exactly give a shit. Lastly, we have so many references in canon of Harry Potter being an exceptionally impulsive little blockhead to the point where he constantly gets himself into trouble. Running after the Philosopher’s Stone in PS, continuing on to fight the basilisk and look for Ginny while Ron tries to get help in CoS, haring off to the Ministry in OoTP, Sectumsempra in HBP, uttering Voldemort’s name and getting them caught by Snatchers in DH… the list is actually pretty damn long. So why should it not be a character flaw for Holly in this fic to be stupidly impulsive in the information she gives out to a person she thinks is her mother, one she’s loved and idolized and put on a pedestal all her life? Why shouldn’t she spout similarly incriminating information to a boy she knows would be her godfather, whom she trusted and loved up until he got killed? It’s a character flaw, yes, and I’m not here to write perfect characters, because perfect characters who only do the right and intelligent thing make for a dry, boring read. If you weren’t about annoying flaws like this, then you’re welcome to click off my fic and find some other story where Harry is the perfect godsent angel come to save us all. That’s not what this story is about.

Why aren’t you patching up any of these inconsistencies that multiple people have already pointed out? Some of them, because that is how I want to write the characters in my story. Some of them, because there will be points in the future where these things are addressed and resolved. And yet still some of them because I don’t want to. Yes, even the stupid ones that really don’t make sense and should probably be changed. I don’t want to go back and change them. That’s how I am as a fic writer, and last I checked, this is still my fanfic.

Want to have a say in how I’m planning the characterization and plotting out? I’m still looking for a beta who I’d like to be able to help me with things like plot inconsistencies, annoying characterization (ok, shut up about Lily already. I didn’t make her this stupid; JKR did when she wrote Lily insisting on her friendship with Snape all the way up to fifth year!), and just generally talk about how and where I intend for the story to go.

If you’d like to beta for me, hit me up on my main Tumblr, @mumuinc or DM me on Discord; my profile is mumuinc#7662.

#fanfic writing #the three sisters #my writing

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