A heart-warming moment of brothers who LOVE EACH OTHER. ISN'T THAT RIGHT???

Varsity Blue, Yellow, and Red

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

CW/Tags: drinking, harassment but light, possession, college au

---

You’d only taken a small sip and within minutes were bracing yourself against the wall. Yep. The punch was spiked. Booze was already present at the afterparty, you knew. The air stank of alcohol at every turn. You didn’t even have to glance at people’s cups to know they were in the process of getting wasted. Hell, many others carried whole bottles of aged wine and beer, taking the contents straight to the head. So it was only a matter of time before someone dumped their entire stock into the punch bowl.

You sip your drink again. It wasn’t as strong as the first. Though, maybe the effects of the alcohol were relaxing your mind, making you less sensitive to it. It didn’t taste awful at least. The cherry punch was to thank for that. It left a kind of sour aftertaste rather than the pungent bitterness that assaulted your senses.

You then shrug and continue to nurse your drink, scoping the scene like the wallflower you were meant to be.

Fryer State had won its final game of the semester. And it was decided that the afterparty would be held inside the apartment of one of your schools’ football players. Pizza and drinks alike were already provided. Though there was the unspoken rule that those who didn’t trust the system provided, brought their own. A rule you forgot, much to your dismay.  You’d meant to bring bottled water and have some pizza, but you’d left it in your fridge all the way back at your dorm. But you pretended not to, for no reason in particular.

It was an honest mistake after all, and so long as you didn’t overdo it, you were a-okay!

Still, aside from being pushed up in a corner like a rat from its hidey hole, you couldn’t help but feel like you were on the outside looking in. All because of the single thought continuously running through your mind: “They don’t know I’m being haunted by a ghost clown.”

Jack stood beside you, bobbing his head offbeat to the music blaring over the radio. “I didn’t know people still carried boomboxes!” He said.

“Just those that have a lot of parties, or listen to a lot of music.” You muttered into your cup. It comforted you that people still owned CD radios. Your parents used to have one in the house when you were a kid. But since converting a lot to streaming, they’d eventually gotten a bluetooth speaker. Which was cool and all, but it was refreshing to revert back to old times.

“What do you think of my new look, Sunshine?” Jack popped the collar of his newly styled letterman jacket. It had the traditional colors of his original vest, though the material was slightly altered to fit a varsity theme and decorated with patches of the sun, bunnies, and his initials of S, D, and J – all that he manifested out of thin air as soon as you made it to the apartment.

“You look good. Big man on campus.” You said.

A guy looked over at you, “Huh?” You waved him off, then decided to pop in your earbuds. The go to method when talking to Jack in public so you didn’t look like a crazy person. The party was loud, but somebody was bound to hear.

“Maybe you should go to a different corner?” Jack asked.

You shrugged, “Nah, I’m chillin’.”

“Keep your guard up, sunshine. I want you to enjoy yourself, but these parties are notorious for debauched activity.” Jack said. “You don’t want to find yourself swept up in the chaos.”

You almost wished you could agree. The college scene wasn’t anything like the movies portrayed it; there were no frat parties every night, no hot professors, the athletes weren’t chasing cheerleaders by their skirts, and there weren’t any cliques. Well, the cliques thing was still kind of a thing. There were a lot of attractive people who hung out with each other. People in the same Greek houses hung in the same circles. You even hung out with a group for a while before being … well, for lack of a better term, moved out.

It might’ve very well been your first experience with college bullying! It was fast and somewhat sobering in figuring out who to really trust. But you were on your own for a while, so after that, campus life became notably dull…

Shaking off the melancholic haze you mutter, “I’ll be fine.”

You could see Jack’s concerned look in the corner of your eye as he tilted his head like a lost puppy dog. You hid your loneliness well under the nonchalant body language. But Jack could see how distant you were at that moment. The way your eyes longingly followed the laughter, gossip, and raunchy party games… It was heartbreaking. 

Truthfully, Jack had wanted you to stay in with him tonight while you two binged Christmas movies. But you’d wanted to end the semester by going outside your comfort zone. And yet here you were, plastered to the wall.

Finally, after mulling it over, he nudged you lightly. You look up at him, lightly touching your earpiece.

He points to the group of jocks and cheerleaders over at a table. They’re playing beer pong. “That seems fun! Why don’t you head over and try your luck?”

Your brows raised, “Really?”

He smiled with a shrug, “Sure, why not?”

You hesitated, looking between the group and your friend. “But what about you?”

“I’ll be right there! In fact, consider me your official spotter!”

A grin breaks out on your face. You were actually afraid that Jack wouldn’t like you hanging out with people here. You knew he was looking out for your best interest, but a lot of times when he managed to pry you away from others, he was notably clingy and almost came off like an overprotective mother.

You were grateful he was being this considerate despite himself.

You wasted no time, downing the rest of your drink and rushing over to the group of athletes.

—

It was only the third. Round. How could you be tipsy already on the third round!

Jack’s nerves were hanging on by a thread as a random guy came up behind you to hold your shoulders, presumably to steady you. But he could swear that if he looked close enough his thumbs were caressing you ever so tenderly as he leaned in and whispered to you. Processing his words, you double over in laughter. The jock wraps his arms around your torso, following you in laughter as he pulls you close.

“Cash, what’d you tell that girl?” A cheerleader on the couch asked.

Cash rolled his eyes, “There’s a reason I whispered it, nosey.” He placed his head on your shoulder, leaning in next to your ear, “Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Baby?” Jack exclaimed. 

You then waved to your unseen friend, “Heyyy, Jack!” you said, “I forgot you were there.”

The spectators chortled in response.

“Oh hell no, this bitch is trippin’!”

“She’s drunk as hell!”

Your sudden outburst didn't hinder Cash one bit; the young man's hands trailing up your shirt, rubbing your stomach in a circular motion that made you hum in contentment. The scene made Jack fume, and the phantom sound of what would've been his heart was ringing in his ears. It was so clear what Cash was intending to do, and yet nobody was stopping it. In fact, they looked on in interest, as if the jock were putting on a private show to see just how far he'd go.

No longer able - nor willing - to stand by. Jack marched up to your body. His influence swiftly sobering you.

You straightened up and stretched out your limbs, the joints popping. You wriggle out of Cashs’ grip. “I gotta go, it's getting late.” It sounded odd, Jack using your voice. It was surely yours, but it had more projection and pep than your usual tone.

The man grabbed your wrist, “Late?” he scoffed, “It's not even past midnight.”

You turn and give him a curt smile, “I have finals tomorrow. You understand, right?”

"Baby-”

“Don't call me that.”

“-Can't you stay for one more round?”

You hum, glancing over at the arrangement of cups. You then tip the table slightly, knocking them all down. There's cries of protest and curses from the people on the couch, and some spectators watch on in intrigue.

Cash furrows his brows, “What the fuck did you do that for!?”

“If you can rearrange those before I get to the door, I might stay another round. Otherwise, goodbye.” You said, beaming.

—

Jack was worn out from using your body. But he thankfully had enough energy to get you to dorms, wash you and put on your pajamas before getting you into bed.

Finally getting to his own, he flopped down on the bed, sighing in exhaustion. He then glanced over at your sleeping form. You were really out. He expected some light stirring or bleariness after leaving your body but you were still as a brick. Breathing, thankfully, but otherwise undisturbed. 

It probably wasn't a good idea to provoke them like that. But from what he could tell, most of the people at that party were seniors. They wouldn't be here next year to harass you, thankfully. 

Jack shuffled up the bed, next to you. He hugged you close to his chest and threw an arm over your torso. “You partied too hard, but thankfully we got you to the dorms safely.” He muttered into your ear.

That's what he'd tell you when you woke up. And it was mostly true. But it's not like you could blame him for doing what he did. You would've been in a lot of trouble if he just stood by.

Honestly, what would you do without him?

A Matter Of Spirits

Notes: Does anyone actually want a Dorian Gray fic? Probably not. Am I going to write one anyway? Abso-fucking-lutely. I do have a fic request that I’m editing right now, so that’s also coming soon. Based off the book, not any of the film adaptations. 

Summary: When Dorian refuses to sit for a painting, Basil turns to Henry for assistance. 

“Dorian. Please.”

The other continued to slump in his seat, staring off into the distance in that irritating, brooding fashion of his. This had been going on for a while now, no matter how Basil attempted to persuade the other. Dorian was in a mood which meant he would not sit for the painter and he most certainly wouldn’t smile. Normally, Basil was patient with Dorian’s swinging fancies, leading him to great heights of euphoria one moment and the depths of despair in the next, but today was different.

The painting wasn’t for himself this time. A client had offered a great price for it, a sum that left the struggling artist dazzled. Normally, he didn’t sell portraits of Dorian—they were his secret joy, a beauty he could admire without the prying eyes of others. But that much could not be ignored, and so Basil had decided to make an exception, just this once.

Unfortunately, it appeared his plans were going to be ruined if Dorian continued to act like this. Basil’s brow pinched in annoyance and exhaustion as Dorian fell back against the couch, one arm thrown over his face, the very picture of agony.

“It’s just one painting,” Basil tried again, trying to force his voice to take on an appealing tone. “One painting and then you can go about your tantrum.”

“It isn’t a tantrum,” came Dorian’s muffled protest. “How can you expect me to pose when I’m miserable?”

“I hardly think the situation calls for one to be miserable—”

“My favorite pair!” Dorian interrupted, sitting up suddenly to glare stricken at the other. He pointed to his pants, which now spotted a rather unfortunate blue ink splot. “Ruined. It’ll probably never come out, and even if it does, there will be a stain, and then where will I be? How am I to go on with stained trousers?”

Basil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was true that the paint might not come out, but Dorian was not one who could be accused of having a low supply of nice apparel. He had dozens of other pairs, all fairly similar in style. There was no need to get so worked up about the accident. Nevertheless, Basil knew if he put it like that his painting would never come about.

“What’s all this about?”

The pair turned to find Lord Henry strolling idly into the room, one hand poised elegantly on his cane. He was always elegant, no matter what the setting. Basil would have been impressed by it if he didn’t find it so irritating. Henry glanced between Dorian, distraught on the couch, Basil, standing next to an empty canvas, and finally at the empty chair in the middle of the room where Dorian would under normal circumstances be posing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Henry,” Basil said, a note of relief to his voice at the presence of his friend. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I let myself in. Dorian, whatever is the matter? You look as though poor old Basil here has just made an attempt on your life.”

Dorian sniffed, tilting his chin up petulantly. “He has, at least to me. Look at this!” He pointed to the stain, as though that itself should have been cause for outrage from the other.

Henry blinked, before nodding slowly. “I see. He has… stained your pants? To what end?”

“It was an accident,” Basil explained, crossing his arms. “I was showing Dorian some of the new colors I had got brought in recently, and a bit got on him, that’s all. He’s overreacting.”

“Ruined,” Dorian repeated with a lack of anything else to say in his defense.

Henry balanced his cane on the edge of the sofa, coming to take a seat beside the other. He examined the stain carefully, making sure to glance at it from all angles. Basil and Dorian watched him, both waiting to hear whose side he would take. Finally, he leaned back, clapping his hands together definitively. “Why, Dorian, you have nothing to worry about! It’s only a little stain, and hardly noticeable at that. A quick wash ought to fix it.”

Dorian fixed him with a suspicious glance, but it was difficult to doubt Henry, and finally a bit of hope came into his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Henry assured him. “Now, come, you’re being ridiculous. Sit for Basil. He only wants a portrait, nothing more. Surely you can accomplish that?”

Dorian looked as though he were on the edge of giving in, but finally he turned his face aside stubbornly. “I can’t. The mood is ruined. I can’t pose when my spirits are so low. I’ll look dreadful.”

Basil threw his hands up in frustration, ready to give up altogether and try again tomorrow, though he knew it would heavily delay the process. Henry, however, was not deterred. “A matter of low spirits, you say?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and all at once Basil realized his plan, recognizing the look from years of being around the other. Dorian had not yet experienced Henry’s fullproof method for cheering one up, and so he simply frowned in puzzlement, reluctantly glancing back at the other.

“What is it?” he asked apprehensively. “Why do you look like that? Henry, what—hey!”

Dorian’s next words were overtaken by a surprised giggle as Henry’s hands found their way suddenly to his sides. He squirmed back against the couch, weakly attempting to bat the other away. “W-Wahait, noho!”

“I’m simply raising your spirits, nothing more,” Henry replied calmly, expertly maneuvering against the clothing protecting the other and finding each and every spot that had Dorian desperate to get away. “After all, you’re laughing, aren’t you?”

Dorian was, quite a lot at that, and the sound was breathtaking as Basil listened and watched the scene unfold. His laughter had always been uproarious, a carefree, wild sound that brought to mind the joy of childhood; Dorian had never been one to hide away his emotions, always feeling and existing in his truest self. But now that same laughter took on a more frantic cadence, breaking off into fits of giggles and every once in a while a sudden shriek when Henry hit a good spot. It was unreasonably endearing, and Basil felt a blush fighting its way onto his features. He knew he should look away or help—though whether he was to help Dorian or Henry he couldn’t say—but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

Dorian was a mess of limbs, his outfit thoroughly rumpled by this point, something that he would have cared about if he wasn’t so focused on the way Henry’s fingers skillfully climbed his ribs. “P-Plehehehease, Ihihihi’ll dihihie!”

“I’m certain you shall be fine, there’s no need for dramatics,” Henry dismissed, working around Dorian’s attempts to shove him off. “Besides, to die of laughter would be a worthy death in my opinion.”

Basil scoffed at the vague poetry, stepping in and placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Don’t you think he’s had enough?”

“That is up to Dorian himself,” Henry replied, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous delight.  “Well? What do you say, my friend? Are you significantly cheered up yet?”

In truth, Dorian could already feel his poor mood dissipating, but despite this he continued to persist. “Of course not,” he huffed, grabbing at Henry’s wrists finally and holding them firmly. “This is ridiculous, I am not still a child. I have no time for such silly behavior.”

“And yet you were certainly acting like one earlier,” Basil commented without thinking, and Dorian shot him a betrayed look.

“Basil is right,” Henry agreed. “Which is why he’ll be assisting me. I can’t have you squirming around so much, you’ll only get in the way. Basil, his arms please.”

Basil snapped his head up, having not expected to get brought into this. “Well, I don’t think—”

“Basil is far too soft-hearted for this torture,” Dorian interrupted before he could finish. “He is not so bold or ruthless as you.”

The comment worked better than anything Henry could have said to convince him, and in the next moment Basil was on the couch behind him, slipping his hands under the other’s arms and securing them in a tight grip. “Henry, proceed.”

Dorian’s eyes went wide as he realized his predicament, and he surged against the hold to no avail. “Wait, hold on, there’s no need—ahAHA!”

His words broke off into wild cackling as Henry continued his attack, wiggling his fingers with quick, deft gestures under his arms. “Feeling anymore cooperative now?” Henry teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Thihihihis ihihis cruhuhuel!” Dorian protested, his actions growing more desperate as the vulnerable spot was continuously pursued. Yet no matter how he thrashed, there was no escape. “Bahahahasil!”

“Yes Dorian?” Basil asked, growing more confident in his actions as he listened to the sweet giggles, and the delighted expression that Dorian was doing a poor job at hiding. “Going to me for help will do you no good, not after all you’ve put me through this afternoon. I’m afraid you’re simply going to have to face the consequences of your actions.”

“Mehehehean!” Dorian kicked his legs out uselessly, throwing his head back into Basil’s chest. He jerked suddenly when Henry’s fingers began to travel, pinching up and down his ribs. His laughter pitched several octaves, and his hands flapped about, attempting to grab hold of anything that would help him out. “AhAHAHA, HEHEHENRY!”

“Dorian, please, calm yourself,” Henry said, shaking his head. “You are causing quite the ruckus, what if the neighbors hear?”

Dorian could hardly reply, too lost in his own laughter. Each tweak or prod of his ribs had him spasming, his layers doing little to protect him. The spot appeared to be unbearably ticklish, worse even than the cruel scribbling under his arms. Dorian was no stranger to his own sensitivity, a fact which had been brought to his attention in stark clarity when he was a child, but he hadn’t been tickled in many years and he was unprepared for just how intense it could be.

Finally, he managed to form enough coherency to spew a stream of giggly protests. “I-Ihihihihi dehehehehemand thahahahat—ehehehe, aha—thahahahat yohohou stahahahap ahahahahat ohohonce! Ihihihi wihihihill—ah! Heh, nahaha, nohoho! I wihihihill gehehehet m-my, mihihi—stahahap ihihihit, nahahahat thehehere!”

“You’re not making any sense, I’m afraid,” Henry informed him sympathetically. “Really, I have spoken with you about the benefits of proper articulation before, there’s no need to stammer so. Basil, can you understand a word of what he’s saying?”

“I can’t say I do,” Basil replied, and suddenly his own fingers had been added into the mix, scribbling over the edges of his armpits from where he held him tight. Dorian shrieked, unprepared for the double assault, and burst into a round of cursing as his laughter advanced to an even more frantic pitch. “I suppose we’ll just have to keep encouraging him until he remembers the proper form of speech.”

Red had begun to creep across Dorian’s features as well, a testament to the teasing that was slowly working to unravel with along with the tickling. With that, his stubbornness finally caved. “Ohohohokay, OHOHohohohokay, I-I’ll sihihihihit!”

Henry and Basil exchanged a pleased glance and collectively sat back, releasing Dorian to wrap his arms around himself in a giggly pile between them. After he had regained his breath somewhat, Dorian managed a half-hearted glare in Henry’s direction. “That was wholly uncalled for.”

“Are your spirits not cheered?” Henry pointed out. “You cannot convince me you weren’t enjoying yourself. You’ve never been one to give in so easily to something you weren’t willing to engage in.”

Dorian blushed, sitting up straight and adjusting his jacket with a cough. “That is ridiculous, Henry, utterly ridiculous. I did nothing of the sort. And to think I thought you were a man of intelligence.”

Henry raised a wry brow, shrugging his shoulders. “If that is what you must tell yourself, I will let you believe it for now. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I won’t discover the truth on a later occasion, however.”

Dorian’s stomach flipped not unpleasantly at the idea, but he merely scoffed, springing from the sofa and bounding over to the sitting chair. “Well, if I’m going to sit, I’m going to need a change of outfit at once. Look at me, I look positively tousled, like I’ve been out in a storm!”

Basil watched him as he continued to waltz about the room, making endless comments about dress and hair, but with a far more agreeable air than before. “Thank you,” he whispered gratefully to Lord Henry, who startled at the sound, tearing his gaze away from Dorian where it had previously been taken.

“Yes, of course old friend, always happy to help. Although you might be careful he doesn’t discover your weakness as well.”

He reached over and tweaked Basil’s side playfully. Basil yelped, having not expected the sudden attack, and batted away his hand quickly. He flushed, glaring at him. “Quiet down with that, will you? For your information, that is not information that will be getting out anytime soon.”

“Basil! I can hardly paint this portrait by myself now can I?”

Basil’s attention immediately snapped back to the other, and he rose to his feet, offering an obliging smile as he made his way over. “No, you cannot. You would make a miserable artist.”

The two continued to talk and bicker contentedly as Basil helped him fix his hair which had gotten tangled in the earlier tussle. Henry watched them with a knowing smile, certain they would figure themselves out. Perhaps not that day, but eventually. After all, they must do it in their own time.

Henry slipped out quietly while they talked, allowing them to have the day to themselves. 

Maybe one day, he thought with a gentle smile. 

Omega Shame Part 1

Summary: After spending most of your life on suppressants and ignoring your second gender, you finally decide to embrace who you are with your alphas support. But what happens when your alpha Bakugou walks in on you nesting and sparks memories of your past trauma?

warnings: ABO, Nesting, ANGST ending with fluff,

***

Nesting. This was something you hadn't even attempted since you were but a small pup. Both suppressants and fear had kept any desire for this activity far away from you, until a couple months ago. That was when you got a courting proposal, your first ever.

It was a necklace, and not just your typical alphas 'just learned how to make jewelry with string'. No. This necklace required welding, a skill you had no idea about, but that just made sense for your alpha to poses. The chain was a simple silver, leading down to a locket with intricate holes on its top layer, creating an almost explosive like design. The cloth that sat inside was a ruby red color that matched the alphas eyes, and the scent it held was strong of caramel and ash.

Of course if Bakugou was to make a courting gift, his was going to be the best you had ever seen.

You had wasted no time in placing the necklace around your neck, relaxing as his scent filled your nose. It was from this point that you knew Bakugou would make an amazing alpha for you. After all, if he put so much effort into the courting gift, you could only imagine the effort he would put into courting you. Even then in typical Bakugou fashion, he passed all expectations.

It started with the way he would make you lunches, walk you to wherever you needed to go, and made sure to give you a thorough scenting only after he got permission. He always showed concern for your physical and mental wellbeing, stopping you from pushing yourself too hard in training and even scolding you for your self deprecating jokes.

“No one gets to talk down about my omega. Especially not my omega.” He had growled at you once. Again Bakugou did something unexpected, making your omega purr at a growl.

It felt so nice to have someone who cared about you. Someone who encouraged you to stop hiding your second gender from everyone but those in your own class. Not that you had even let your class discover on purpose, but the stressful situations class A had gotten in over the years did wonders for wearing off suppressants and scent blockers. 

He, along with your other classmates, had been building up your confidence in your secondary sex for years now. Bringing you to the realization that being an omega didn't mean that you were weak or any less than betas or alphas. Momo and Ochako were omegas after all, and they were some of the strongest people you knew. So once you had gotten an alpha your omega was basically begging to be set free, and you didn't feel like you had to deny it anymore.

So here you were, after 3 months of being off of the medications your hormones and instincts were finally leveling back to normal. It was something you had never experienced before, but you had Bakugou to help support you along the way. That's why you needed his scent in your nest. No matter how nauseous you felt walking into the young alphas room while you knew he was training, your omega refused to continue the day without at least one peice of his clothing. More than that and you were sure you would be sent into a panic attack. You had no idea how he would react to you doing this. Would he be disgusted? Angry?

Ironically the only thing calming your thoughts was to continue building the nest. Pillows upon pillows methodically shoved between various stuffed animals and blankets became nest shaped as the time passed. Soon enough you were left with just one item left, one of his favorite skull shirts. You had wanted to take something he would miss less, but they weren’t drowned in his scent like this one was. You sat back into the middle of your nest to take a thorough look around. You didn’t want to take too long to decide a place for it by now as you were getting tired. Not to mention you were going to go out on a movie date with Bakugou so you also needed to get ready for that. You would have checked the time if you weren’t so fixated on your task, and that would turn out to be a huge mistake.

You had finally found the perfect place for his shirt when you heard your door open from behind you. In the middle of slipping the clothing item over your pillow you froze as your heart began to race. Your omega knew it was an alpha before you knew who it was and she let out a chirp before you could stop it.

All you could remember was the first time this had happened, an Alpha walking in on your nest. You were seven, not old enough to even present as an omega but tendencies could show early in childhood. You were excited and happily humming as you arranged your blankets, stuffed animals, and your parents best smelling clothes into small yet sturdy walls in the shape of an oval on your bed. You couldn’t help but feel safe, like you would no longer fall off your bed in the middle of the night, or that monsters or other intruders would quickly avoid hurting you once they got just a single sniff of your parents alpha scents. You were proud when you were finished and immediately snuggled into it for a nap, only to wake up to the scent of rotting eggs. A clear indicator your father was both near and very angry. All the yelling and trashing of your hard work that happened next was just a blur. But you could remember how you felt the entire time so vividly. The way your lungs seemed incapable of taking in air, the trembling of your hands and especially the weakness in your knees. Most of all, you remembered the absolute terror as your safe space was invaded. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as fast as your heart would allow it, and you could only sit back and watch.

It was that day that you first became aware that there was something wrong with you. Something gross, weak, and worth hating.

That’s why even when the scent of Bakugou filled your nose, your heart still didn’t slow down. In fact, it only sped up when you finally turned around to look at him, all of the hope you had gotten by convincing yourself he would be happy you were embracing yourself quickly diminishing. His brows furrowed more than normal and his mouth was set in a deep scowl, slightly open just enough that his naturally large canines poked out.

He was angry.

“Do you not know how to answer your fucking phone?! You were so eager to force me to agree to this date and then you don't even respond when I-” Your thoughts were racing far too fast to actually hear what he was saying. Your omega could only think of one thing, your alpha was angry with you. You messed up and now he was angry with you. It was just like your parents, you should have listened to them when they told you it was stupid to nest.

But you had worked so hard on it, and it made you feel so good. You didn’t want your nest to be torn apart again. The smell of smoke wafted from the alphas' palms as you were too caught up in your memories to really hear him. Hear how he was angry with you for forgetting about your date, angry that you had stood him up and too busy being upset to even notice that you were sitting in a nest. The smell of smoke invoked just another event in your mind, one that happened when you had first presented as an omega at 13. Something that caused the damn behind your eyes to finally break.

“PLEASE DON’T DESTROY MY NEST” You Omega sobbed, distressed chips flooding from your chest like air. “Please, please!”

Your outburst startled the Alpha into silence. He could only stand there and watch as his omegas scent was filled with fear as she wiped at her eyes aggressively. A first he was confused, letting his body pump out comfort pheromones instinctually as he let himself observe the situation. You were dressed only in your school uniform, clearly having been building the nest that surrounded you from the time you entered the dorm room to when he had burst into your room, now far past dark. You were trembling too, body curled up in on itself as you hiccupped and begged.

“Please, I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorryyy! Just please dont destroy my nest.” Your voice cracked and it resonated painfully in his ear and his heart dropped. Why did you think he would destroy your nest? Sure he wasn't the best alpha but he wasn’t a monster. Did you really think he would destroy the one place where you felt safest? A weight grew in his chest that left as a deep growl,

“Here.” He growled, “Probably best if we just end this bullshit.”

This was all your fault. If you hadnt built this stupid nest in the first place, or even started crying like a fucking baby then this wouldnt have happened. But you were a weak omega, and just like your parents said, no one can love someone so weak. Especially not someone as powerful as Katsuki. You shouldn’t have let yourself believe that they were wrong for even a second. You had thought that Bakugou would be the one who would love you for who you truly were. But that was naive. No one could love such a burden. No one could love you.

The drop of the crafted bracelet to the ground seconds before your door slammed, leaving you alone once more in your room, proof enough of that.

Your parents were right.

A flame of anger lit in your chest. Why were you so unloveable just the way you were? Why couldn’t you just be different? Why couldn’t you be an alpha like your parents had wanted?

You could feel your nails extend into claws as the hair on your body raised. You glared at the soft material weaved together around you as hot tears built up behind your eyes. This time instead of being fueled by fear they were fueled by rage and resentment.

You were so angry. So angry at youself, at your weak omega, and especially at your stupid nest. You couldn't help but let a couple tears fall as you let your anger get the best of you, and you didn't stop it until you were heaving in the middle of your disaster of a room. Surrounded by torn pieces of fabric and the other contents of your room scattered by your tantrum, you finally let yourself breath. 

You turned around to see the item you had been avoiding, your pillow with bakugou's shirt. With a deep breath you grabbed a hold of the object, digging your claws into its plush softness. The caramel ash smell that permeated the air only helped to break down the remaining bits of your anger. And you didn’t want to be left alone with your despair just yet.

With the release of your breath a ripping sound could be heard. The shirt split and cotton popped out from the opening like popcorn. Once you had successfully dissected what had been a comfort item you threw it somewhere away from you and took another deep breath.

Now you were finally alone. Just you and your reality. You could really feel how much pain your omega was in as your hair began to lower and your normal nails returned. You had heard about this pain before. A deep one in your chest, heartbreak. Your omega seemed to curl around that feeling. Of rejection. Self hatred. That no one would ever need you, let alone want you. You could feel yourself start to slip into the limbo of numbness and searing pain.

An Omega Depression.

You remembered learning about it back when you were in middle school, most people were beginning to present as their second sex. Your teachers had emphasized how important it was to get medical attention at the first signs, you knew how dangerous it was, but all you wanted to do was lay there on the floor. You were tired, and what was the point? No one cared about you, not your parents… not Bakugou. Your throat strained painfully at that thought. Bakugou didn’t want you, and it was your fault.

Evening falls in the Pearlbow Wilderness with the last of the autumn leaves. A bitter wind heralds the coming of winter as it rattles its way through the skeletal trees, and the veil of gray that has been pulled across the sky all day awaits its cue to blanket the world beneath with snow. So, when a golden-amber light shines briefly in the wilderness, halfway between Erdeloch and Kaltenloch, there is no mistaking it for dying sunlight, which has not been seen by these tree trunks for some time, and it is little surprise at all, when a man with hair the color of a hearthfire appears out of the light with the soft crunch and thump of sturdy boots meeting forest floor.

The man looks north briefly, and then turns in a slow, clockwise circle, his azure eyes, bruised from lack of sleep, searching for any sign of his quarry. He hears the familiar, chittering call of an elf owl, and watches it take to the sky in a flutter of feathers and rustle of tree branches. A smile pulls on one side of his lips, and he hopes the bird is a good omen as he turns the slow circle again, but he finds only trees, trees, and more trees. The wind, delighted to have a new orange toy at its disposal, tugs excitedly at his hair. "Go where the wind blows, I suppose," he says with a sigh, and the leaves on the ground agree quietly that it is really the only sensible way to be getting along.

As he sets off west-northwest, he reaches into one of his coat's many pockets to touch the trinket housed there. It is a small thing, barely larger than a gold coin. He stole it over a year prior from a place far east of here. He turns it over in his pocket four times, before methodically tracing the design on its face with his thumb, a new habit he has picked up in recent weeks as he has searched for the woman it reminds him of.

Night arrives quickly in the autumnal wilderness, and cold quickly follows suit. Luckily, the man knows a thing or two about light and heat. He produces a flame in his unpocketed hand as quickly and easily as most people breathe. Most trees would be perturbed at the sudden appearance of fire in their midst, but the trees of this forest are old and delight in the man's bright magic. You are so close, they whisper as the wind glides across their branches. She is just there. The snow, sensing its cue, begins to fall then, kissing the man on the top of his head, shoulders, and cheeks, melting against his skin like a lover. Come, come, the flurries beckon. You are very close. He does not hear them, but he feels a renewed determination, or perhaps stubbornness, as he sets his shoulders and forges ahead.

It is the light he notices first. He extinguishes the flame in his hand, thinking it a possible trick of eye, but no, he can definitely glimpse a glimmer of light up ahead. He notices the trees next, the way they have created a path for him, their branches curling elegantly overhead like living archways. Finally, pace quickening, he catches the scent of woodsmoke and food on the air. As he gets closer, the glimmer coalesces into a series of arcane lights, like too-still fireflies, leading a path up to the door of a home, now visible in the clearing, and wreathing it in gold. He feels a pang of nostalgia as he is reminded of a tree, far away, glowing with daylight in a city of eternal night.

He blames this rush of sentimentality for his lack of caution as he steps through the final archway. He does not sense the arcane wire until he has already tripped it. He hisses in pain, flinching backward, as bright, white light sears his retinas. Old habit brings his hands instinctively level with his face, palms outward, a position of readiness disguised as surrender. He hears what can only be the door ahead opening with a groan, and a woman's voice calls out from the light, full-throated and wary.

"Who's there?"

"My name is Caleb, Caleb Widogast." He replies, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm, despite his mounting discomfort at the fact that he cannot see. "I mean you no harm. I am looking for someone. I believe her name is Torvi. I met her once, some years ago, and I wish to speak with her, if I may." He pauses to allow a reply, but all he hears is the wind in the branches and the faint crackle of a fire. He can feel his pulse thumping nervously in his throat. He ventures to speak again. "I," he pauses, considering how direct he should be. "I met her in-- in a place called--"

"I know what the place is called." The woman's voice is not soft exactly, but it is no longer quite so sharp. The lights dim back to their firefly glow. "You are not the first person from Vergessen to find their way here." He thinks it might be sadness he hears in her voice and ventures to open his eyes slowly.

As the black splotches on his vision reduce, the woman comes slowly into focus. He notices first the book in a sling on her hip, dark leather stark against the golden yellow of her dress. Next, the dishcloth in her hands, giving the impression of being caught in the middle of a chore and undoubtedly hiding any number of spell components. It is not Torvi. Torvi's face is the first clear memory he has after ... after. He thinks he sees a resemblance, in the shape of her eyes, the sweet-apple roundness of her cheekbones, the broad curve of her nose, the pointed slope of her ears. Her jaw is different, though, more square, her shoulders more broad, her stature just a bit too tall. "May I ask who you are?"

"I'm Maeve, Torvi's sister." She beckons him with a tilt of her head. "Come on in."

Caleb approaches with greater caution this time, as Maeve steps back, opening the door further. He casts Detect Magic with a practiced twist of his hand and spots no further traps on the path ahead of him -- at least, none that are currently activated. There are, however, a dozen different wards that he can see around the perimeter of the clearing and a dozen more traps besides. It is some of the most intricately woven Abjuration magic he has had the pleasure of witnessing, and he regrets, for just an instant before he steps through the doorway, that he does not have time right now to investigate it further.

His beleaguered eyes adjust to the candle and firelight of the interior to take in a simple but well-appointed home. There are cabinets and a large work bench along the far wall. Herbs of all varieties hang from the rafters. There is a bookcase filled to bursting with books of all sizes, some of which glow with magic. There is a large dining table, crowned with a steaming cauldron of stew, and there, in a chair by the hearthfire, is Torvi. She has a blanket pulled around her, and she is leaning against one side of the armchair, her arm curled beneath her chin as a pillow, gazing into the hearthfire, seemingly lost in thought, or perhaps, just lost. She gives no indication that she has noticed him enter.

He has had weeks to get used to the idea of her being alive and not dead, as he had assumed her to be from the moment Ikithon took posession of her holy symbol all those years ago, but no amount of mental preparation could have prepared him for the experience of seeing her there exactly as he remembered her.

"This will hurt." The first words to cut through the clouds in a decade, as the heart-shaped face of a half-Elven woman, with dark-brown skin and sunlight-on-honey eyes, comes into focus, her warm hands caressing his face. "Like saltwater on a wound, it is necessary. There is so much you may yet do." Her expression shifts, then, from an apologetic smile to slack-jawed awe. Her eyes are bright as they rove across his face. "I see the face of Corellon in you."

Now that he is within the warmth of the home, Caleb cannot attribute the tingling numbness in his face and hands to the cold. His heart pounds against his ribcage, as desperate to escape as he suddenly is, but he manages to draw in a deep, shaky breath. Breathe, he reminds himself. He  grips the charm in his pocket with all his strength, such as it is, and takes a deep breath again. Eins, swei, drei... It takes him a moment to realize that Maeve is looking at him expectantly. "Sorry?" He croaks.

"I said, if you want to speak with her, you'll have to wait, but if you're not in a hurry, she'll come around soon enough."

"Ah, ja, I can wait." He picks a point on Maeve's cheek, just below her eyes, to fix his gaze upon. Stay on task, Widogast. "I had hoped to speak with you as well. Perhaps, we can do that first." One of her eyebrows quirks upward.

"Alright," she says, after a moment. "We can do that over dinner. You can set your coat and things there" Though her words are phrased as suggestions, her voice rings with the authority of someone used to being listened to, as she motions to a coat rack by the door. Her eyes flick to his pocketed hand. There is still a wariness in the set of her shoulders, and the dishcloth still partly obscures one of her hands. Ah.

Caleb nods in acquiescence and acknowledgment, one paranoid arcanist to another, and removes the hand from his pocket slowly, palming the trinket as he does so. He turns away from her and divests himself of his scarf and coat, keeping the trinket in hand all the while. He keeps his eyes on the wood floor, the cob wall, the curling leaf design of the wooden coat hooks. When he turns back, Maeve has set three places at the dining table. "Ah, none for me, please," he says, waving a staying hand as he crosses to the table. She pauses, ladle suspended in midair, and her eyes pass over his thin form, even thinner now that he no longer has his coat, in frank, skeptical appraisal. Judging by the unimpressed look on her face, she finds him wanting.

"We feed our guests around here," she says, in the same authoritative tone, and ladles soup into each of the three bowls. Caleb's lips form a thin line, briefly, the only outward indication of his inward prickling at this insistence, but he quickly clears the frown from his face. He wants her amenable to his request, and if he has to eat a little, in spite of the knotted nerves residing where his stomach should be, so be it. He notices that his bowl, at least, is more broth than vegetable as Maeve retrieves a large loaf of crusty bread from a cupboard, tears off a large piece for each of them, and settles into the seat across the table from him. "So," she says, before digging into her bowl. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

Caleb takes a deep breath. "Are you familiar with a man by the name of Trent Ikithon?"

Maeve stills. Her eyes meet Caleb's, wary and discerning. "I know of him -- he is one of the members of the Cerberus Assembly -- but I have never met him."

"Count yourself lucky," Caleb says, forcing his face into a wry smile. He launches into a monologue he has rehearsed many times over the past few weeks, detailing some of the crimes of his former mentor, how Ikithon used Vergessen as a base of operations, the ordeal of his trial and imprisonment, the nigh certainty of the involvement of other Assembly members in Ikithon's crimes, and the painstaking, fruitless search to find anyone willing to testify against them. Maeve's eyes stay on him all the while as she takes in every word with a quiet, steadfast focus that reminds him of another wizard he knows. "So," he says at last, after pausing to eat a small bite of broth-soaked bread. "If there is any evidence you can offer, any testimony of anything you or your sister might have witnessed --"

"No."

Caleb blinks once, twice, three times. "No?"

"No," she repeats, softly. "I admire what you are doing, but we cannot help you."

"If you are afraid of reprisals, I can assure you--"

"I'm fairly certain you can assure nothing where the Assembly is involved," she says, with a cynical smile, "no matter how powerful you or your friends with the Cobalt Soul are. But, nevertheless, I have no evidence to offer. I witnessed nothing, aside from my sister's declining health, which is too circumstantial to be helpful, and any evidence she might offer would not stand up in court of law."

Caleb's shoulders and head curl forward as her words hit him like a blow to the chest. He hazards a glance at the woman by the fire, who has not moved over the course of their conversation. "Is she so unwell?"

". . . No." Maeve drags the word out into two syllables. "She is much better than she was, but..." She taps a quick staccato rhythm against the side of her bowl with her spoon, before gazing across the room at her sister. "Torvi was not insane before she went to Vergessen, only inconvenient. When she was a teenager, she began performing miracles and wonders around our village, and she was not shy about declaring their provenance. She was always blessing people that they may 'walk in Corellon's beauty' or 'may the light of the Archeart guide them.'" Caleb's heart sinks as he guesses where this story is going. Maeve shrugs, her gaze dropping back to her bowl. "We got fined every time the Reapers came to town. The villagers didn't care, so long as their kid was healed or their shop brought in coin -- a blessing was a blessing. But she didn't stop there. She also went after the priest to the All-Hammer that kept the shrine in our village. She said he worshiped the Empire, not the Gods."

"I bet that made her a lot of friends in high places."

Maeve gives a snort of humorless laughter at this, her cynical smile returning. "No kidding. My parents made a deal with the lawmaster: instead of sending her to jail, they agreed that her worship of "false gods"--" she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers "-- was a sign of her obvious madness, and sent her to Vergessen instead." She pushes her soup around the bowl with her spoon. "They thought they were doing her a kindness. But, regardless," her eyes flash up to catch his, hard with grim certainty. "Even if she was completely well, I think we both know the word of a convicted heretic and idolator is worth very little in the eyes of the law."

Caleb rubs his tired eyes with a sigh, as his left hand worries at the charm. He has so much work yet to do. Da'leth, Margolin, Tversky -- they were all too close to the Volstrucker program not to have been involved. They had to be removed from power for any real change to take place, and his search for concrete evidence and testimony had been so fruitless. When he had found record of Torvi's discharge from Vergessen, it ... it had felt like a sign, he admits to himself, cringing a little at the irrationality of it. A sign that perhaps he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He unfurls his hand to reveal the trinket: a small disc of silver engraved with two moons backed by a four-pointed star.

Maeve, glimpsing the symbol, tilts her head curiously. "Are you a devotee of Corellon?"

The idea that someone could mistake him for a devotee of any god is strange enough to make him fumble the charm as he turns it over again in his hand. "Ah, I cannot say so, no. I have never been much for religion."

Maeve's gestures with her chin toward the book holstered at his side. "Why bother with the fickle will of Gods when us mortals can achieve so much on our own?" It is not really a question. There is a book on her own hip after all.

Caleb nods. "That is part of it." He turns the charm over in his hand again, and a memory rises to the surface of his mind: the soft, rhythmic clack-clack of wooden prayer beads as they sift through his mother's clever fingers. She kneels before the shrine of Pelor, eyes closed, the dawn light shining off her burnished copper hair, prayers whispering earnestly through her lips. Much good that it did her. "For a long time, it seemed to me the supposed benevolence of the gods was nothing but a cruel joke." Bless my son that he may live always in Your light. "My view is a bit softer now, but ..." Bless our Empire that we may bring light to the dark corners of the world.

Maeve nods. Her eyes gleam with a cold anger. "I rage at that one, sometimes," she says, her eyes darting toward the moonlit star in his hand. "And argue -- one-sided." A wry smile twists her lips.

The sudden scrape of metal on metal makes both of their heads turn at once toward the front window. It opens with a creak and in hops a tiny elf owl.

Maeve rises and crosses quickly to the window. "You've been eavesdropping, haven't you?" She asks, as she closes the window with a sharp snap. "It's very rude to keep your guest waiting." The owl's head swivels to gaze at Caleb, and he recognizes immediately the familiar glow of Fey magic in the bird's eyes. With another little hop, it takes flight from the window sill and lands on the table a foot from him. There is a long moment of silence as the bird looks him over, this way and that, and -- pip, pip, pip-- hops a little closer, faerie fire still burning its eyes.

Caleb remembers well the safe, comforting distance of viewing the world through a familiar's eyes. "I had a little owl like you once," he says, softly. A smile tugs at his lips as he remembers Frumpkin perched on Beau's shoulder, his tiny feathers ruffled by the ocean breeze. "Well, he was a cat really, but he was an owl for a little while."

"She is a bigger owl really," says the first voice he remembers from Vergessen. "But she is small for right now."

Caleb takes a deep breath. Eins, swei, drei... He forces himself to tear his eyes from the safe visage of the little bird and face her. She is not quite looking at him, but she is facing his direction now. He can see clearly now that the light reflected in her upturned eyes is not fire but Fey. "Do-- do you remember me, Schwester?"

"Of course, I do," she says, voice soft and warm.

Caleb rubs his thumb over the design on the charm one last time. "I brought this for you," he says, holding it out for the owl to inspect. "To replace the one that was taken." The owl bobs its head this way and that in a circular motion, and then snaps up the trinket so quickly that Caleb barely has time to worry for his fingers before the bird is midair again. She lands on the back of the chair, dropping the charm onto Torvi's waiting palm. Her hand closes around it, and as it does, the light in her eyes grows and brightens until they shine like twin stars from her face. They are bright enough that Caleb is not able to look at her long without needing to avert his weary eyes. It is not unlike the ways he has seen Jester and Caduceus' magic manifest at times, and he wonders what visions her deity is granting her, as Maeve resumes her seat across from him.

The room is quiet for a long while, save for the crackle of the hearthfire and the occasional scrape of Maeve's spoon against her bowl. The tiny owl is beginning to doze on the back of the chair, when the light disappears from Torvi's eyes with a blink, and she looks down at the trinket with her own eyes for the first time. "Beautiful," she whispers, as errant tears spill down her cheeks.

"Schwester..." It feels cruel to ask, another sin to add to the pile, but she is here now. Really here, and he has traveled all this way. He has to ask. "Schwester, is there anything you remember about your time at Vergessen, any evidence you can offer, any direction you can point me in, to help me bring down those who used that place for evil?"

Still gazing at the talisman, she tilts her head in a way that reminds Caleb of a curious bird and seems to consider his question for a moment. "You were the first one I restored in that place," she says at last. "Half mad and half cursed, so young and so full of Corellon's beauty and magic." The ghost of a smile curls around her lips as she rubs her thumb over the design on the charm in much the same way Caleb had a moment before. "And now you have done so many beautiful and important things." And ugly and terrible things, Caleb thinks wryly. The scales are not yet balanced.

"I just need to do a little more, Schwester." A phantom, stinging itch starts up in his forearms, and his fingers worry against each other for lack of the charm to turn between them.

Torvi's eyes meet his without warning, and he is caught like a startled creature in the sudden glimpse of sunlight.

"Fuck, if I ever have to sit in a courtroom again, it'll be too fuckin' soon," Beau says, stretching in the dim lamplight outside the tavern. He makes a noise of agreement, and she glances at him. "Y'know, Yasha's got some unfinished business in Xhorhas. We've been talking about taking off for a few weeks, few months maybe, to go back to her old stomping grounds..." She looks at Caleb sidelong, and he can read the concern in the slight shift in the pitch of her voice, the rising of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, though she plays it off well. He knows he looks like shit. It turned out listening to weeks of testimony against his abuser was not a great aid to his already-fitful sleep.

"Gut." He says, and he means it. "It will be good for her to get some closure. She deserves it, and you both deserve some time to yourselves." He offers her a smile he hopes is reassuring.

She nods, and between one breath and the next, her arms are around him. He allows himself to lean into her vice-like grip, hugging her back as hard as he can. "Take it easy, while we're gone, alright, man? We'll kick some more Assembly ass when we get back." She releases him at last and gives him a pat on the cheek. "Get some rest, man. You deserve it."

Caleb feels the heavy weight of his allotment of Trent Ikithon's platinum and gold in his coat pocket and knows that he does not. "Ja," he says. "I will. There's just a little more to do."

"And then what?" The question snaps Caleb's attention back to the present. Torvi is peering at him, her eyes seeming to search in his for an answer. "A little more, and then what? After you find this evidence you need, will it be a little more still, or will you rest?"

If he found evidence against Da'leth and the others, there would be more trials. The web would unravel further still, and he would have new threads to follow. Not to mention, the problem of the ex-Volstrucker scattered to the winds. "Well, you know what they say," he says with a sardonic grin. "There is no rest for the wicked." Torvi does not return his grin.

"You are not wicked." She says this with such certainty that it sparks a small flame of anger in his chest.

"How do you know?" He asks, more than a little petulantly.

"I know." And there is something in the compassionate depths of her sunlit eyes that makes Caleb think, inexplicably, that she does know. She knows what transpired before Vergessen and since. The flame in his chest is quenched thoroughly. He tears his gaze from hers at last, eins, swei, drei... "Alas," she continues, once his breathing has evened out again. "My memories from Vergessen are... muddled." She concludes quietly. "But if I think of anything helpful, I can contact you." He nods, his eyes on the floorboards, as disappointment washes over him.

"I suppose I'll be on my way then." He says, quietly, and rises from his seat. Maeve rises with him.

"I'd like a favor from you before you go," says Torvi, as he turns from the table. He looks up, in surprise.

"Name it."

"I'd like you to hold onto this for me," she says, holding the talisman out with a smile. "I'm always losing mine."

"It's true," mutters Maeve. "I'm always finding them in strange places."

"This one means a lot to me," Torvi says. "I don't want to lose it." She holds the charm out toward him insistently. "Keep it safe for me."

Maeve looks at him sidelong and sighs. "If you don't, she'll just find some way of sneaking it into your pocket as you leave."

"It's true," Torvi agrees, and there is mischief twinkling amidst the warm affection in her eyes, a particular mix that reminds him strongly of Jester. He crosses to her to take the trinket back, and as he does so, her fingers catch his. He feels a familiar warmth settle over him. "May you walk in Corellon's beauty, Bruder." When Maeve had said the words earlier, they had sounded trite to Caleb's ears, but Torvi's benediction was infused with such sincerity.

Caleb bends forward slightly, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "Danke, Schwester." She smiles at him warmly, as he releases her grasp and pockets the trinket.

Maeve opens the door for him as he hastily dons his scarf and coat and steps out into the frigid air. To Caleb's surprise, she follows him out onto the step, closing the door behind her. The clearing is now covered in a thin layer of snow, and their breaths create little puffs of fog in the dim glow of the arcane lights. Maeve leans out past the eave of the house for a moment to look up at the sky, but the stars are veiled with clouds. She frowns and straightens, crossing her arms. "Can I give you a little advice?" She asks, her voice pitched low, eyes following the meandering descent of a snowflake.

Caleb watches the snowflake, also, watches it spiral and drift, until it is lost in a sea of shadow. He is not sure he wants advice. He wants evidence, a direction to go in. He has lost his only lead, and now, he is back at square one.

"When I'm stuck on a spell," Maeve continues. "I find the best thing to do is take a break. Then, when I'm doing laundry or gardening or whatever, the solution will come to me." She reaches out a hand past the eave to catch some of the falling snow. "Even the Wildmother can't bloom all the time." A strong gust of wind swirls around them then, trying its best to push Caleb northward. Caleb adjusts his scarf and coat to stop its icy fingers from trailing down his neck, and Maeve shrugs. "Take it or leave it."

"Thank you," Caleb says with a nod. Maeve nods back and turns to re-enter the house, closing the door behind her with a soft thud.

Caleb steps off of the porch, re-casting detect magic with a twist of his hand. He wants to be well clear of the Abjuration magic before he attempts to teleport. The snow crunches under his boots as he makes his way down the row of lights, and the wind whistles in the tree branches and tries, once again, to tug him northward, pulling at his hair this time, loosening it from its tie.

The sharp, clean smell of the fresh snow reminds Caleb of Eiselcross... of Essek. The thought of reuniting with Essek had been a light at the end of the tunnel, during Ikithon's trial. He had even spent time crafting his own Sending spell, so he could contact Essek once the trial was over. When the day came, it had felt too selfish to use it. There was still so much to do.

And Essek isn't the only thing awaiting him in Eiselcross. In the underworld of Aeor lies a crucible, a final test of his tentative, hard-won, untrustworthy goodness.

Caleb walks much further than he needs to. The snowflakes try to kiss his worries away. When this doesn't work, they stop falling, leaving only the wind carding its fingers through his hair with alternating sweetness and frustration. It whistles some more to catch his attention, but he is too lost in his spiraling thoughts to hear it.

He does hear another noise, though, or thinks he does. He cannot find the little owl when he looks up to the tree branches, but he does see a star. A single star, bright enough to shine through a thinning in the veil, twinkling, safe and familiar...

Caleb swears under his breath and yanks a copper wire out of his pocket, before he can think better of it. He shapes it much like he has seen Jester do numerous times and takes a deep breath. He visualizes Essek, his lilac eyes, his high cheekbones, the iridescent freckles dusted across his twilight skin, the elegant curve of his jaw, the small dimples that appear on his cheeks when he smiles, really smiles, and speaks the magic word. "Hallo, Freund, I--" It occurs to him suddenly that, although it is a very reasonable 6:13 in the evening in this part of the Pearlbow Wilderness, it is much deeper into the night at Vurmas Outpost. "I apologize I didn't think of the time. I hope I'm not disturbing you." Nine words left. "Thinking I'll travel to you soon... to exchange theories?" The words leave his lips with the ghost of a smile, and he thinks he hears a smile in Essek's voice as well, when he responds:

"Caleb Widogast, it is good to hear your voice no matter the time of night. I can think of nothing else I would rather do."

.

.

.

Notes: I rather extended the limits of Read Object and Read Mind from the Knowledge Domain descriptions, because.

Welcome to Club T’s

One of my fan favorites from the old blog, enjoy:

One could look at Emily and assume her life was perfect A nice home, well off family that was well known in California.  Naturally blonde hair, a petite little figure and long legs all around a smile that could turn a man to stone. Going to movie premieres, sports events and mingling with LA bigwigs, Emily was never long without something to do. Oh dont get me wrong, Emily never complained. She loved her family, loved her friends, loved her job. She’d never complain for a second. But still something was missing.  That’s why Emily found herself where she was, in a taxi outside a new and mysterious club in downtown LA.  She stared at the door for a long time before the driver finally asked “Are you gettin out or what?” Emily came back to reality and paid the driver, and stepped out of her car as confidently as she could.  What she couldn't sell her blue dress and black heels could. She walked into the club like it was nobody’s business, and was an instant bombshell to the eligible young men at Club T’s.   What made her walk into this particular club that night? Well, to understand that, we have to go back a little bit.  Emily had a friend named Stephen, and one time not too long ago Stephen did something she couldn’t get out of her head.  He tickled her.  It wasn’t her first time being tickled, not by a longshot.  For some reason, the feeling she got when he finally stopped kept coming back to her head like a drug, needing to come forward again and refusing any lesser pleasure. She had no trouble finding a man to do anything she wanted, but for some reason this one request proved elusive to her charms.  After a brief search on the internet, she found out that club T’s was the place to find what she wanted.  It wasn’t easy to find out how to get in, the people she was here to see were very secretive.  The main club was just like any other club. The music was too loud, the drinks were too expensive and you couldn’t see or move anywhere.  After a few minutes of moving around she found the specific corner that housed the VIP section of the club, she said the codeword to the bouncer, and with a smirk he let her in.  It was the look a wolf gives a deer after a day without food, and it unsettled her. Inside, the VIP area was another world.  The clothes were different, the lights were a bit brighter, and you could hear yourself over the music.  The men were dressed in anything from suits to T-shirts while the girls were wearing some pretty revealing clothing, anything that exposed the belly, shorts, mini skirts and few of them wore heels.  They wore colored wristbands, green yellow and red.  Green was an open invitation, yellow required an ask, and red meant not to approach.  Emily had a yellow wristband, fastened around her ankle like the website advised. There was more seating space than at any normal club here, couches and chairs everywhere.  The dance floor had some people, but others were chasing each other around the floor, and in a couch by the corner a man had a captive girl in his lap.  Her hands were bound and her feet were in his lap.  As he grabbed the toe of her sock, her bound hands came up to her face to conceal her smile and she shook her head.  He grinned evilly and slowly pulled the sock off, revealing her bare foot. At the edges of the dance floor were a few suspended cages, each with a girl inside and a person outside sticking a feather duster in.  Emily asked the bartender “What’s all that about?”  A cute redhead in a black corset said “Those girls work here.  The customers pay to use the feather dusters for a time.  They can also pay to remove clothing or lower the cages.  It breaks the ice for the newcomers.  Speaking of, is this your first time?” “Why yes” said Emily looking around. “Is this actually for real?” The bartender, whose nametag read “Sam” said “It sure is.  I can lock you in that cage if you’re too nervous to get started on your own?”  Emily blushed, and suddenly a voice came from behind her that said smoothly “Sam, hasn’t your boss told you not to mess with the new talent? Or do I have to tickle you for your tips again?” Sam blushed now, and backed towards the liquor shelf nervously.  Emily asked the tall, suit clad stranger “What?”  He said “Oh you haven’t heard? If you find their service in any way lacking, you have to give them the oppurtunity to get their tips tickled back into them.  That’s why she wears a corset, her pits are her worst spot.”  She hissed “Damon!” So you weren't kidding on the website” Emily asked. “This really is a tickle club.” Damon said “Oh yes, but if you want to see come by when Sam brings my bottle of Dom.  She needs a good tickling to earn her tips back after that hiss…”  Sam gulped.  She’d done it now.  Damon slapped down a 20 and said “Whatever the lady likes is on me.” Sam fixed Emily a drink and grabbed a champagne bottle, but Emily hesitated as Sam left.  Sam looked over her shoulder and said “You comin? This is what you wanted right?”  Emily finished her liquid courage, and followed Sam to a door labelled “Barefoot Room”  Upon entering, Sam said “It’s quite literal, no shoes allowed inside.”  Sam quickly kicked off her pumps and went inside, and Emily removed her peep toed heels to join her. “You learn quickly Emily” Damon smiled as he smiled at Emilys little feet as she flexed her toes “Im just amazed” Emily replied blushing as she felt Damon's gaze on her toes “Theres nothing to feel scared about Emily" Damon smiled as he took a sip of his drink. “so tell me what brings you here”” Emily took a deep breath, and then she started “It all started when my friend Stephen tickled my feet a few months ago.  It felt...well I guess how a normal person feels being tickled.  Sure, the laughing was fun but when it was happening I just wanted him to stop after a few seconds...afterwards I couldn’t get it out of my head.  I tried forgetting it, distracting myself.  Anytime I was alone with my thoughts, I thought of that sensation and how badly I wanted it back.  So I found this place...and here I am.” “And here you are.” Damon said.  He saw Emily look down nervously and said “Emily, come sit by me.”  She came and sat down next to him hesitantly, and drew her feet behind her knees, where Damon couldn’t see them.  It was all she could do not to blush.  He asked her “Sam needs to be tickled if she wants her tips from me, where should she be tickled?” “Her underarms” Emily replied without hesitation.  Sam shut her eyes and raised her arms, beginning to breathe heavily.  She begged “Please be gentle.” Damon looked and raised an eyebrow “you answered that quickly for a newbie; I think we may have a little sadist here.  Sam, I think we should let your new friend here do the honors” Emily looked nervous again, and said “You want me to tickle her?”  Damon nodded silently and said “If you'd prefer I can tickle her.  The whole time you watch her suffer knowing that it's coming for you next…” She was up in an instant, and facing Sam directly.  Sam felt her breathe and winced, that gave Emily an inexplicable pleasure.  She pounced. Emily dug her nails into Sam’s underarms, and Damon smirked as she screamed.  Sam was able to hold her arms up for a few seconds, but within 15 seconds they came down reflexively.  Sam laughed like crazy but Emily wouldn't let up.  Sam tried to turn away, but Emily kept at it, and pulled Sam closer. The punishment became a wrestling match soon as the girls came to the ground, with Emily straddling her hips.  Emily leaned forward and pinned the poor bartender’s wrists over her head and blew on her underarms, which drove sam into a mad fit of giggles.  She begged “HEHEHEHE Stop teasing!” Emily couldn't tell you why she said this, but she shouted “This is club tease!”  Before she could sink her nails back into Sam’s smooth hollows, Emily burst out laughing “HAHAHAHAHA!” And lost her grip. Sam scrambled out from under her, and went to Damon, who was holding Emily’s ankle, with his other hand gently stroking her sole.  She giggled gently with each stroke of his hands.  He patted Sam on the butt and said “That’s enough sweetie.  Call me when you get off work.  For now I have some soft, pretty feet to break in.” This comment made Emily blush, and wiggle her baby blue toes.  As Sam walked out of the room and grabbed her shoes, Emily looked down, anticipating the tickling.  The tickling was slow, methodical.  He was really tickling her brain more than her sole.  Reminding her that he could do what he want, control her body against her will.  He could make her laugh whenever he pleased.  All it took was a foot and a finger.  He had the finger, and the foot may as well have been a plaything of his.  It was in his grasp and she wasn’t getting it out. Emily remained on all fours(or threes, not counting the foot that belonged to Damon at the moment), and giggled when Damon wanted her to, otherwise she just accepted the breaks and caught her breath.  Sometimes she would look back at Damon, nearly melting him with that forced smile.  Other times she looked away and tried to just take it. During a break, Damon rubbed her sole with his palm and commented “I see you took the website’s advice and got a pedicure.  How recently?”  Emily giggled “A couple hours ago hehehe.”  she heard Damon inhale deeply and felt his lips rub along her sole now. His lips tickled ever so slightly. She giggled “hehehehe are you smelling my foot?” She read many of the men here also had foot fetishes, but never expected to find herself here tonight… He replied “You used a vanilla scented lotion.  It’s my favorite.”   “EEP!” She squealed, something had pinched the ball of her foot, and one look back at Damon licking his lips told the whole story.  Could she really drive him so crazy with just her feet? This could add some fun to the tickling...but before she could finish that thought, her mind commanded her to laugh again. Emily fell flat on her belly as she felt a warm, wet sensation streak across her arch.  She turned her head to the side to release peals of laughter, and started pounding the carpet with her fist.  If Damon’s finger was mean, his tongue was just cruel.  Emily was at once suffering and feeling an indescribable ecstasy.  All she could do to cope was laugh, and between breaths beg “Hahahaha! Stahahahahap!” Emily got herself a momentary respite from Damon’s tongue, but only because he needed it to taunt her.  His fingers returned to gently stroking her arches as he taunted “Oh you don’t want this to stop.  If you did you’d pull your foot away.  Look.”  Emily flipped over and saw that his hand was open, only cupping her heel.  He tickled with all his fingers slowly, and she reflexively pulled back a few inches, then paused. Emily hesitated a few seconds, it tickled so bad but there was just nothing like it.  Her foot slowly slid back into his grip, and his hand closed around her ankle.  She gasped, what had she done? Damon taunted “See? I knew you liked it!” And he tickled her sole all over again with his fingers, making her laugh even louder, wondering why she gave her foot to him.  He lifted her foot up to his mouth, but there was resistance from her tight little dress.  Damon lowered her foot and said “Emily, your dress is lovely but if you want to have more fun, it may be best to change.” Emily blushed again and said “I don't have a change of clothes.”  Damon began stroking her instep and commented “Not to worry.  There is a private changing room in here with spare clothes, better for our activities.”  Damon helped her up, and opened a wall panel that led to a cozy changing room. Emily removed her dress and placed it on a hanger, then found a pair of little pink shorts and a white tshirt to put on.  The shirt was awfully short, and only came down to her ribs, leaving her midriff vulnerable.  The shorts were quite short, revealing her long tanned legs. She emerged a little sheepishly, but Damon gushed over her, making her blush for the umpteenth time tonight.  She came up to the couch where he sat and requested “Where do you want me?”  She felt his eyes combing every inch of exposed skin, searching for a spot to make her squeal.  She felt uneasy, but exhilarated. Damon grabbed her by the hand and sat her on the couch next to him.  He draped her legs over his...and once she breathed out he lobster clawed her knees.  Emily shrieked, breaking down in helpless laughter as she tried to sit up and reach his hands. After a few moments of squeezing her legs and knees, Damon began to gently scribble his fingertips all along her thighs and up towards her hips.  Emily’s laughter went up in pitch as Damon reached her hips and pinched, and he licked his lips looking at that bare midriff. Damon gave Emily a break to catch her breath, and breathing heavily she sighed “hehehe that was fun.”  Damon had an evil smirk on his face, she asked him “What is that look for?”  Damon said “I’m going to have that cute tummy of yours next.  But I’m going to give you a choice, my tongue or my hands?”  Emily’s eyes bugged out, and she couldn’t possibly choose between tortures for a moment.  She thought about her feet, and his tongue was much worse there.  She answered “Hands.” Damon smirked, had she chosen wrong? What was he playing at?  She didn’t have time to think any further as ten fingers began wiggling along her midriff, and her tummy exploded with ticklish sensations.  She let out a loud belly laugh, and cursed as her hands wanted nothing more than to seize his and make it stop.  Despite this desperate need, her mind would not allow them, making them twitch up and down her sides in a comical fashion.  The game changed utterly when Damon managed to wiggle a finger into her navel, making Emily scream like a banshee before breaking down in frantic laughter.  She tried to get him off of there, but her hands were swatted away by his free hand.  This was almost as bad as her toes, or that tongue! Maybe she should have let him use his tongue after all… After a minute or so of her navel being explored and prodded, Emily couldn’t take anymore.  Her begs became more desperate, and Damon heard it in her voice.  She cried loudly “Uncle! Hahahahahaha! Please! Mercy! Hahahaha!”  Damon stopped rather quickly, but Emily didn’t manage to stop giggling for another minute.  He rubbed her belly during this time, and at last she recovered.  She propped herself up on her elbows saying “That was wicked...I’ve never felt anything like it before.”  Damon smirked, and said “I bet not.” Before they could say anything else, a blonde woman and a brunette with golden brown hair came into the room dancing with each other, kicking their shoes off as they entered.  They plopped on the couch opposite Damon and Emily.  The blonde said “I told you if we danced Damon would get us a snack!”  Emily covered her face nervously as she blushed like a teenager, and would have curled into a ball had Damon not held her knees.  The brunette asked “Who’s the tickle toy?”  Damon said evenly “Girls, this is Emily.  Emily, that is Shay, and Blair.  Two tickle slaves of mine, who need to remember what happens when they don’t use their manners.” Damon continued “Emily is new, and I think she has had enough for one night.  Blair, why don’t you tie Shay’s arms over her head?”  They got to work, enjoying themselves and clearly under the influence a bit.  Emily asked “So what, just like that we’re done?”  Damon smirked and said “For tonight, after I do one quick thing.  If you want another session I’ll see to it that you can contact me.  Sit tight.”  Damon got up and tested Shay’s bonds, who was standing on her tiptoes in the middle of the room, suspended from a chain.  Damon produced two more cuffs and said “Your turn Blair.”  She giggled as she assumed position for her restraints. Once they were restrained Damon instructed Emily “Give me your sole” holding his hand out.  She placed an ankle in his hand, and he produced a pen.  He slowly and painstakingly wrote something on Emily’s sole, but she couldn’t tell.  All she could do was laugh and scream until he finished.  It felt like an eternity of that ball point pen stroking her arches, but it was bliss for her.  When he finally finished, he pecked each of her soles goodnight and she left for the evening.  She inspected her sole before putting her shoes back on, and it read Damon’s number and address.

Kinktober Day 1: Voyeurism

The Boy: Brahms Heelshire x Reader

Peephole

Your first few days at the Heelshire manor passed smoothly enough. Sure, the day-to-day routine differed from what you expected it to be when you accepted the position, but it didn’t bother you too much. 

After your five years in college, you had earned your degree, as well as a newfound difficulty with regular sleeping, eating, and sometimes bathing. The days consisted of you rushing to class and office hours and meetings, assignments barely completed in your remaining free time, and in the margins you kept yourself alive. Graduation came and went and then you were alone, degree in hand, a shell of yourself. You felt like the human shaped doll you cared for, hollow and fragile. 

You followed the schedule the Heelshires had given you. Despite being an adult, you felt that it was a good routine for you to stick to as well. It was a hell of a lot better than being in the mental hospital anyway, where they literally did treat you like a preschooler, complete with requiring you to ask them to fill your water bottle. Here, Brahms was your child and your companion. Doing things together helped you; caring for Brahms allowed you to care for yourself by extension. 

Outside of the schedule, you found yourself reading more, painting more, creating more. You found yourself daydreaming out loud to Brahms frequently. You would wax on about places you have seen and have yet to see, your old friends, the family you still talked to on occasion. All of it, including the pain, the divorce of your parents that never went through but should have, how you only made it through highschool because your ex promised he would make the family you always wanted only after you both graduated, the breakup after you realized that he wasn’t putting in any work into the future that he said he wanted, and the miscarriage you told no one about.  Brahms was a good listener, and honestly, that was really all that you needed lately. Someone to be there while you work things out, out loud. 

After putting Brahms to bed, you usually took some time to yourself to unwind and relax. It took a bit to allow yourself to enjoy such a luxury, but regular bubble baths in their fancy, claw-footed porcelain tub became an integral part of your self care routine. Firstly, you found it convenient that you could wash yourself without having to towel dry your hair afterward every time. 

And then you discovered what wonders the handheld water faucet held.

-------

You were unaware of the large, virile man lurking in the walls of the manor, and of the discreet peepholes scattered about the house. Invisibly, the living Brahms spent nearly every moment of the day with you, admiring how you cared for the doll, and longing to one day take its place in your arms. When you spilled your heart and soul out loud to your silent audience of one, he listened intently, hanging onto every word you shared. The mask he wore weighed especially heavily on him those times, a reminder that no matter how perfect he was for you, he was still too irredeemably broken to deserve you. And so, he graciously shielded you from his presence by continuing to exist in the walls, a shameful thing that wanted to live freely in the house - not as a part of it but as its resident, together, with you. 

Trapped in a constant state of yearning. 

The closest he could get to you was by watching you, and holding the clothes that he had stolen from the bottom of your dirty laundry bin. They smelled of you the most, and when he couldn’t find your scent on them anymore, he would carefully place them back in the bin, at the bottom. He soon realized that it was much easier for him to steal your panties - you had a colorful variety of them that you chose to wear at random. Truthfully, you had no idea how many you had, only that you had enough of them. 

And so, as you slipped into the steaming, bubble filled tub, hungry eyes followed you from the unremarkable gap in the bathroom wall. Brahms held up a pair of your worn, lacy panties to the mask and breathed in your scent. His right hand palmed the crotch of his wrinkled trousers, massaging his cock through the fabric as it grew and stiffened. You took a large yellow sponge and began to gently wash up your arms, first your left, and then your right, leaving a trail of bubbles running and dripping up to your shoulders. You moved onto washing your shoulders, and his body shuddered involuntarily as he imagined gently wrapping his bulky hands around your graceful neck and pressing kisses from your shoulders to your jawline. 

The sponge dipped below the layer of bubbles, giving him a moment to pry his eyes away from your body and work on freeing his straining cock. His fingertips frantically fumbled with his pants opening - mentally cursing his large hands for their clumsiness - and letting them fall around his thighs. Cradling the shaft in one hand, he grew into his full length with only a minimal amount of slow massaging. When he held it at the base, over half of it cantilevered from his grasp, two throbbing veins on either side led down his erection to his deep pink head. Precum drooled from the tip, beading up and spilling down in generously viscous strands. He wasn’t sure if it was adequate enough for your standards, and more so felt that you would find it just as grotesque and repulsive as the rest of his body.

Returning his attention to you as you washed the rest of your body, he stroked himself lazily, anticipating what you usually did next. You drained the bath and carefully washed the remaining bubbles off with the hand faucet, making sure that you wouldn’t find dried soap clinging to your skin in the morning. Water ran down your exposed body as you rinsed yourself, before propping your elbow up on the edge of the tub and letting the stream of water find its way between your thighs. You let it trace your vulva in large circles, all the sensitivity in your body migrating towards it and leaving the rest of your body in a soft, blissful paralysis. The circles slowly tightened until it settled on your clitoris, the water pressure teasing it gently, methodically as you coaxed your first orgasm out of your tightly wound body. 

Brahms stroked himself faster with you, trying to pleasure himself at your pace. His movements jerkily slowed, however, as you came. The first time he had watched you, he had spent himself entirely, and afterward could only listen from his resting position as he reclined sleepily against the wall as you worked yourself over and over. From then on he had forced himself into a form of restraint in order to last longer alongside you. He studied your routine attentively, as he did with all other aspects of your life. You would orgasm clitorally a few times, then finish by adding your fingers as well. 

Dizzy and lightheaded with the past few orgasms now settling down into your body, your free hand wandered past your hipbones and cheekily massaged your clit before parting your labia with a gentle finger. Brahms’ movement hitched, imagining his fingers replacing yours, feeling the sensitive, soft skin as it slicked his fingers with your warm juices. A thought crossed his mind - what your taste would be, and if it could possibly be better than your scent - as he held your panties up to his mask once more. He found himself adrift in his fantasies, the feeling of pressing you down into his mattress, feeling your lithe body squirm beneath him as his thick fingers worked themselves into you, your sighs and screams echoing throughout the estate, your taste on his lips, his other hand firmly holding your hips as he teased a cascade of orgasms from you, surrounded by your sweet, dizzying smell, you, you, you it was always you, who I ever needed in my life, please stay here with me and be mine forever- bonding you all to himself forever, entwining the two of you physically, emotionally, spiritually, biologically for all eternity. 

In the bath, you tipped yourself over into the rush of your final orgasm, letting a breathy moan rise from your lips, the sound bringing Brahms to a climax so overwhelming, the first spurt of his thick, milky cum hit the slatted boards inside the wall before he remembered to catch the rest with a cloth. Behind his mask, his mouth fell open as he let out a faint, deep moan, and fell to his knees. The sound startled you out of your comedown, and half cognizant, you froze up and called out to the house you knew to be empty. 

“Hello??”

Mystery Kids and the Case of the Whispering Rock

Summary: Norman, Neil, Coraline, Wybie, Raz and Lili arrive at Grunkle Stan’s Summer Camp with the hope of having a summer of fun, or in the case of the two Psychonauts, with the intent of investigating a psychic disturbance. When they meet two twins that seem to be experts on the secrets of Gravity Falls, they find themselves reluctantly teaming up. But how much can they actually trust each other? There are secrets in this town, but more surprising are the secrets being kept from each other.

Table of Contents

Act 2

Chapter 24: The Right Tools

Thud!

“Oops.”

Tiny particles invade Wybie’s throat. He started coughing and found he couldn’t stop.

“I think you went overboard on the glitter…” Wybie managed to choke out.

“Nonsense! There’s no-” Mabel began to cough. “Such thing... as too much…” But she couldn’t finish her sentence, and instead, she doubled over with wheezing, hacking breaths.

“You were saying?” Wybie asked. It was becoming easier to breathe as the glitter began to settle on the floor of the attic bedroom around them. “Also… why did we need glitter again?”

“Neil, tell him,” Mabel said with a nod to the red-headed kid beside her.

"Glitter enhances everything," Neil informed him matter-of-factly. "It's called aesthetic."

"And more of a good thing is always a good thing!" Mabel added cheerily.

Wybie raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure that's true." However, he didn't say anything more than that. Wybie had known the girl for only a few days, and he had already learned that arguing sense into her was pointless.

Wybie looked down at the square device on the ground which used to be black, but was now pink, had a collection of cupcake stickers, a cat made out of puff paint with big eyes, and rhinestones clustered in any additional left over space. With Mabel’s newest addition, the whole device was also now covered in glitter. As mismatched and horrible as the whole thing looked, he had to admit the cat was painted really well. After the mummy project, Wybie had no doubt that the girl was talented artistically, even if she did have… unusual tastes.

When Neil and Mabel said that they wanted to help Wybie fix the EMF meter, he expected that they would just help him find supplies. He didn’t expect… this kind of help.

“What’s wrong with how it looked before?” Wybie asked.

Mabel shook her head, as if he had just asked the silliest question she had ever heard. “If you were a ghost, what would you be drawn towards? A boring black square box? Or this work of art?”

“Definitely this,” Neil agreed. “It's a lot more fun and everyone likes cupcakes!”

“But the problem wasn’t about getting the ghost’s attention,” Wybie explained. “The problem was getting the device to work properly.”

After they got home from getting lost in the woods and finding the mysterious cabin, Wybie had started working on building the EMF meter while the rest of the kids finished the fake mummy for the shack. It wasn’t a very complicated device, and by the next day, Wybie had the device built. EMF readers detect electromagnetic fields that are given off by electronics, especially old electronics that don’t have their wires properly shielded. EMF fluctuations are also said to indicate ghostly activity. The idea was, even if they couldn’t see Luis themselves, the EMF meter should be able to pick up his ghostly energy… provided they were far enough away from any electronics that could set off the EMF meter. Wybye was still a little skeptical of the science, but he didn’t have a better idea.

Coraline and Norman had been eager to get back to the Cardinal’s old mansion to see if they could find Luis again as soon as possible. They wouldn’t be able to communicate with him if they couldn’t see or hear him, but at least the EMF reader would indicate if he was still around or not. Once they knew if Luis was still around, they could work on other ways of communicating with him.

When they arrived back at the old mansion, Wybie turned on the EMF meter and it immediately calibrated to the surrounding area. The device had an indicator needle that could swing between green, yellow and red; green indicating low electromagnetic energy, yellow indicating medium, and red indicating high levels.

At first, the device was reading green, but as they stepped further into the house, the needle swung to yellow, and the device started letting out a slow beeping noise. Excited, Wybie tried to find the source of the electromagnetic field disturbance by moving the EMF meter around. Coraline eagerly called Luis’s name, but she got no response.

As Wybie swung the device to his left, he noticed that the device started beeping louder as the needle detected more activity. He moved to the left and the beeping increased, the needle moving to red. Slowly, he seemed to be narrowing in on the location of the disturbance. He stopped in front of Norman, and Norman moved out of his way- only for the beeping to decrease again as the needle moved back down to yellow. Wybie adjusted his position, and he was able to pick up the trail again… only to find himself standing in front of Norman for a second time.

Norman’s eyes widened in surprise and the color seemed to drain from his already pale face.

“Wh-what does that mean?” Norman asked nervously as he eyed the EMF meter. “Why is it focusing on me?”

“I’m not sure,” Wybie said as he fiddled with some of the buttons on the meter. “Do you have your phone on you? You should give it to someone else. Maybe that’s what’s setting off the device.”

Norman did so, handing over his phone to Neil.

Norman stepped away from the EMF meter, but again, it focused in on Norman, beeping incessently.

Norman shifted uncomfortably as everyone stared in confusion at the device.

“Wait, I think I’ve seen this movie,” Raz exclaimed with a fake gasp. “Norman’s been dead the entire time!”.

A few lighthearted chuckles from the group eased the atmosphere, and Norman let out an awkward laugh himself.

“It’s probably because Norman was possessed by Luis,” Dipper suggested. Some of his ghostly energy must still be on him, which is messing with the EMF meter.

“Can you do something about that Wybie?” Coraline asked. “We aren’t going to be able to find Luis if the EMF reader keeps lighting up everytime Norman gets close, and I really don’t want to have to wait to find out how long ghost energy can last on a person.”

“I can probably make the device less sensitive,” Wybie said. “That should make it harder to detect Norman and more likely that it will detect a bigger electromagnetic disturbance, like a ghost… theoretically. That's assuming this is even a valid method of finding a ghost.”

“I can leave,” Norman suggested hesitantly. “Maybe that would make it easier for the EMF meter to work if I wasn’t here?”

Dipper shook his head. “No, you should stay. We want to make sure the instrument is actually reading a ghostly entity, not just left over energy. We can actually use you to make sure the calibration is correct.”

“The new calibration might take a while, but I think it will be ready by tomorrow,” Wybie said.

Coraline frowned impatiently, but nodded. “I guess we have no choice but to wait until then.”

“Oh! I can help you, Wybie!” Mabel said eagerly

“Me too!” Neil chimed in.

“Sure,” Wybie said with a shrug.

After all, how could more help be a bad thing?

Past Wybie had been so naive.

Well, Mabel and Neil hadn’t messed with the inside of the device, and as long as it was still functional, that was the most important part.

”You fixed the inside and we fixed the outside! We make a great team!” Mabel said, patting him on the back.

“The outside wasn’t broken-”

“Agree to disagree,” Mabel said flippantly.

“But I haven’t completely fixed it yet,” Wybie said. “I still need to screw this back panel on, but the screws I had to use for the back panel are a lot smaller.” It was a common occurrence when Wybie built things out of spare parts. No big deal. He just needed to use different tools. “I need to use something else. Neil, can you hand me that smaller screwdriver by your leg?”

“Sure!” Neil said and offered the screw driver to Wybie, who thanked him.

“I guess it’s time to find out if it works,” Wybie said as he finished tightening the last screw. “Coraline wanted to try the mansion again today as soon as this was done.”

“Didn’t Mr. Pines want us to work in the shack all day? Won’t he be mad if we all just left?” Neil asked.

“Raz and Lili left a few times yesterday and I think they were gone this morning and I don’t think Mr. Pines noticed. He was too busy with all the tourists,” Wybie said.

“Oh yeah… Why do you think Raz and Lili keep leaving without telling anyone?” Neil asked.

Mabel’s smile widened. "I bet Coraline’s right and they're sneaking away to make out!"

"But whenever they leave they are always really serious and determined. That’s not how people look on TV when they’re about to go kiss someone, or my brother with his boyfriend,” Neil said.

“Also if they are just sneaking off to kiss, why would they be gone for hours?” Wybie added.

“Because they are going on romantic dates, obviously!” Mabel insisted.

“Two to three times a day?” Wybie countered.

Mabel shrugged. “They’re in love!”

“Maybe.” Wybie said, but he suspected there was more to it. Perhaps they were trying to get out of doing work around the shack? Or maybe they had found something more interesting to do in Gravity Falls?

“Do you think your Grunkle would be okay if we left the shack early today to go to the mansion?” Neil asked.

“It depends,” Mabel said thoughtfully. “Grunkle Stan cares if it eats into the profits. With all the new customers we’ve been getting because of the mummy exhibit, he’s probably too happy to care. It’s also past the mid-day rush anyway. We probably won’t get another big batch of tourists until tomorrow.”

Wybie was glad he had been lucky enough to avoid the crowd of tourists that had come to the shop to see the grand reveal of the mummy. The reason Wybie had time to finish the EMF meter was because Coraline, Dipper and Norman were handling the gift shop so they weren’t needed downstairs.

Wybie looked over his EMF meter and turned it on. It hummed, but didn’t start beeping right away, which was a good sign unless the twins bedroom was hunted. In which case it should be beeping very incessantly…

Wybie sighed and turned off the device.

“What’s wrong?” Mabel asked.

“Machines I understand. I could tell you a hundred facts about the different spiders and slugs living in the Pacific Northwest. When I don’t know something, I can research it until I figure it out. But this… ghost stuff. I don’t understand it at all

Mabel cocked her head to the side. “And that’s… bad?”

“Yes!” Wybie said, throwing his hands into the air. “We spoke to a ghost, we found a cabin in the woods powered by magic! I’ve seen all this crazy stuff in the past two days and I don’t know how to make sense of it! How am I supposed to learn or study about something that just breaks the laws of physics? I know ghosts are real. I saw Louis with my own eyes and I’ve known monsters are real ever since… Well, that thing that Coraline doesn’t want to talk about. I can see it, and believe in it to a certain extent, but how am I supposed to understand it? What units of measurement do I even use for ectoplasmic energy or the amount of magic powering the cabin? How am I supposed to understand it, let alone build a device to detect it?” He held up the EMF reader in frustration.

To Wybie’s surprise, Mabel giggled. “You sound like my brother.”

“I do?”

“Dipper will go on and on and say that he loves mysteries, but that’s not true. It’s not the mystery he likes, it’s solving them. The truth is my brother hates mysteries. He can’t stand the uncertainty… he hates not knowing, it eats at him. What he really enjoys is putting the pieces together. You’re similar, you like taking things apart and then putting them back together, but better than before. But with this ghost and magic stuff you’re stuck.” She held up his discarded screwdriver. “Your usual tools aren’t going to help you understand.”

“So what I’m I supposed to do?”

Mabel shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know how that stuff works either. What do you usually do when you’re stuck and what you’re trying to do isn’t working?”

Wybie frowned. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get stuck with an engineering problem, but what did he do when he was completely out of his depth?

“You get better tools.” Neil said eagerly and Wybie looked up. “Just like you had me get a different screwdriver for the different sized screws.”

Wybie nodded slowly. “I improvise. But how am I supposed to get better tools to understand magic and ghost stuff?”

Mabel shrugged again. “I guess that’s just another mystery?”

Wybie groaned. “I hate when there are too many mysteries and not enough solutions.”

Mabel grinned. “Welcome to Gravity Falls.”

I'm finally back with the beginning of Act 2! I hope you liked it!

I've also been busy going back and editing this story. I haven't made any major changes so there is no need to reread the story since everything is mostly the same!

Table of Contents <Previous

Soulmate Alphabet

Summary: So this is soulmate headcannons, but through the alphabet.

Character: F!ReaderxCordelia Goode

A/N: I am so excited for this. XD I hope y’all like this, and I really want to do it with all of sarah’s ahs characters so please let me know. :) Also big shoutout to @winters-witch-bitch for giving me motivation bc this would have never been completed.

aging (stops at 18 until you find your soulmate so the two of you can grow old together)

You were 15 when you met Cordelia. Your parents had dropped you off at the academy to learn how to use your magic. You both felt this strange connection to each other, but neither ever mentioned it. Cordelia being a year older, had her 18th birthday first. The day of everyone teased her because this could be her last birthday for a very long time. You two had grown very close in the time but you were both too scared to bring up the soulmate topic. The next year Cordelia realized she was still aging, so confusion filled her. Everyone at the academy immediately looked at you. Realization shot through you so with this huge amount of courage you grabbed Cordelia and kissed her in front of the teachers and students. Immediately you both knew you were each other’s soulmates. All the students, and Myrtle, started cheering and a few girls started passing around money because they had started a bet that you two were each other’s soulmates.

body art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin)

One Saturday, you were relaxing watching a movie on your couch. You were reaching into your snack bowl when you saw a blooming flower tattoo appear on your wrist. At first you were a little panicked but quickly realized it was from your soulmate getting the tattoo.

For Cordelia, you have always been the type to do random doodles on your skin with a marker or pen, so as Cordelia would be teaching random stars, flowers, and hearts would appear on her skin. The girls would always tease her about it saying things like, “Oooo someone has a future Van Gogh.”

 colors (aka the standard soulmate au where the world is black and white until you meet your soulmate and see colors)

You had seen the video Cordelia made about recruiting witches, so you decided to head to New Orleans. You went because you were a witch who could definitely use some guidance but there was also something about her that just drew you in. When you did get to the academy, you were walking into her office when you both made eye contact. Immediately something in the air shifted. You both cringed at the splitting headache that came with finally seeing color. The beauty of color rushed both of your visions, and then the realization that you two were soulmates hit. An awkward excitement filled the room because you two realized you finally found your person.

 damage (done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body-cuts, bruises, and all)

When Cordelia got attacked by the witch hunter, it was bad for both of you. You were at the mall with your best friend when Cordelia was attacked. The second the hunter threw the acid on her, you felt it too. You had fallen to your knees and cried out, similar to Cordelia. Your best friend immediately panicked and called for help. When you got to the hospital, they told you that it was because your soulmate was attacked with acid. The fact that your soulmate got acid thrown in her face was concerning, but once you two were together you understood what had happened, and it broke Cordelia’s heart that you got so hurt too.

Being a skater, you were constantly falling and getting scrapes and bruises. Cordelia would wake up and find random bruises and scrapes on her shins and elbows. It always made her so curious as to what you were doing.

 empathy (soulmates can sense one another’s presence and feel each other’s exact emotions even when miles away)

One time when your mind was being especially awful, Cordelia could feel it too. Cordelia has dealt with similar feelings, but she knew it was more than her own mind. It would always make her heart hurt knowing her soulmate was out there hurting and she couldn’t comfort you.

 first (the first thoughts your soulmate thinks when seeing you are written on your skin)

When you had first met at the coven, the first thing Cordelia thought when she truly looked at you was, “This gorgeous woman is my soulmate.” So that was what appeared on your ribcage, and honestly you loved it so much. The first thing you thought when you looked at Cordelia was, “Holy shit this lady is mine.” So whenever you see that on Cordelia you cringe, blush, and want to hide, but Cordelia will always laugh and tell you how much she loves it.

 guardian (it is said that the person who saves you from a near-death experience is your soulmate—drowning, car crash, etc.)

A couple days before your interview at the academy, you were walking down Bourbon Street in the evening. You were exploring the city when a drunk driver ran a red light, unbeknownst to both of you who you two were, Cordelia had used her powers to swerve the car around you. You looked around in shock but couldn’t figure out who did it. Cordelia just saw someone about to get hurt, so she saved you. When you two had realized you were the two in that situation, everything made a little more sense about your love.

 heartbeats (the soulmates share the same heartbeat—when one feels panicked, shocked, etc., the other can feel it too)

When Cordelia had lost Misty and was panicking trying to find her, you were too. You were at work when the panic hit. The previous week you had been feeling uneasy, but it was never too bad. You were talking to your boss when suddenly your chest felt tight and extreme worry clouded your mind. Your boss had grabbed a chair for you to sit in, but she was thoroughly confused as to what was happening. Once you had gotten your emotions in check, you had to awkwardly explain to your boss why you just started sweating and panicking from practically nothing.

 identifier (a word or symbol which is imputed to your soulmate is somewhere on your body)

You have a pentagram on your wrist that you had gotten from your grandmother. Cordelia had always had one on her back by her left hip, but she never knew why she had it until she met you. She had always assumed that it was from her soulmate, so it made her think that you were a witch or had some sort of magical ability.

 juxtaposition (your soulmate is the exact opposite of you, yet you find yourselves complementing one another)

Cordelia is a responsible, powerful, confident, soft spoken, methodical, put together leader while you are this free spirited, shy, anxious, loud artistic mess. While you can be self-deprecating comparing your differences, Cordelia always stops you and tells you how much she loves your talents, mind, and personality. You two really challenge each other sometimes with the drastically different personalities, but it is one of the ways your relationship is constantly growing.

 keys (and locks are randomly dispersed to soulmates on chains when they are born. when in proximity, the lock and key will act as magnets and bring the two soulmates closer together until the key is placed in the lock and a gratifying click is heard, unlocking the chain)

You were sitting in a little café in the French Quarter enjoying a coffee when you felt your seat move. You had started to be pulled closer to the front of the café when you realized what was happening. Excitement and nervousness filled you as you were trying to guess who your soulmate is. You had finally been pulled to the door when Cordelia’s key was inserted into your lock. Instantly you pulled her into a hug and melted into her arms. You were completely blown away by her beauty and so incredibly excited to have found your soulmate.

 last (the last words your soulmate says are written on your skin)

Prior to Mallory resetting the timeline, Cordelia had died. You wanted to stay back with Madison and help distract Michael, but Cordelia wouldn’t let you. She wanted you with her, so you went with her, Myrtle, and Mallory into the room with the tub. Cordelia didn’t want you to watch her die, so she had used her magic to hold you in the room with the other two witches. You were panicking because you didn’t want her to die but you couldn’t beak her hold. Myrtle had told you it was no use fighting it, so you just accepted it and fell limp in her magical hold. As you were sobbing, the hold broke and suddenly words appeared on your arm as Myrtle cried out Cordelia’s name. You looked down to see “Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion motherfucker” written onto your right arm.

 marks (marks or stains of the color black are somewhere on your body (palm of your hand, knuckles, knee) until you and your soulmate finally make physical contact. once the mark is touched, it fades to be consistent with the person’s skin color)

You always had this black smear on the palm of your hand; it looked like you rubbed your palm with black acrylic paint. People with less visible marks loved to point it out, so you were ready to get rid of it. Once you had met Cordelia you immediately took her hand in yours, and when you pulled away the mark had faded to match the rest of your hand.

Cordelia’s mark was on her shoulder. So later on in your relationship when you two had started to love and trust each other, she had asked you to touch it. You ran your hand over her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. As soon as you lifted your hand, the mark had faded away, being replaced with the color of her pale skin.

 nurse (the touch of a soulmate can heal you from affliction and vice versa)

Even though you were both witches, when one got hurt you two didn’t need to use magic. Because Cordelia is the Supreme, she only ever got headaches, nothing like papercuts or bruised knees from banging into a table. So whenever she isn’t feeling well, you have her lay her head in your lap and you rub her head and lightly comb your fingers through her hair. This always makes her headaches go away and leaves you with a very sleepy girlfriend.

In your case, being as clumsy as you are, Cordelia is constantly having to come find you to heal your wounds. Whether it’s a broken beaker in the greenhouse that cut your hand, or you burned yourself practicing pyrokinesis, Cordelia always rushes to your side to heal you. The girls think it’s ridiculous because any one of them can heal you immediately with their powers, but you only want Delia to heal you.

 opportune outfit (soulmates will eternally color coordinate, even if they have not met one another yet, and often times have similar patterns in their clothing)

You and Cordelia have always worn white, black, light pink, and navy-blue colored outfits. Sometimes you would both wear a floral print outfit. Once you had moved into the academy, you two were adding your clothes into her closet. You both quickly realized how similar your outfits were. It was like looking at the same aesthetic board twice. While you aren’t really big on dresses, your button up shirts matched her dresses. Your favorite outfit to match with Delia was her light pink blouse and your light pink button up. Loving fashion, you are always so happy to see your similar outfits.

 passion (when soulmates meet, one of their passions blend into the other person)

You had soon realized after meeting Cordelia you had this intense need to garden. Never being the flower type, usually the one who can’t keep a plant alive if it was your last job on Earth, this was really confusing at first. Then you quickly realized it was because of Cordelia. You told her about it and her eyes lit up with joy. She rapidly transmutated the both of you to the greenhouse, and you spent the entire evening learning about flowers, spells, and different ways to tend to the plants. Now you two spend your time in the greenhouse together tending to the different greenery.

One day when Cordelia was in her office, she got this sudden urge to paint. It wasn’t just a little oh I want to paint someday, it was an I need to paint a huge canvas right now. So she went to find you, and to her luck, you were working on a painting. She had walked up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist, “Hey baby can you show me how to do that?” You were a bit taken aback by her question, but you would never deny her of anything especially something you love, so you showed her. You put the paintbrush in her hand and guided her wrist around the canvas. The painting hangs above the fireplace in your bedroom, and every Friday evening you paint together.

 quizzes (revolving around one’s personal aspects, skills and ambitions are given to every person once they turn 18, and the results read who your soulmate is based off of your collective answers)

You had answered your quiz with your life goals, hobbies, interests, knowledge, and general information about you. You knew how the quizzes work; you get your soulmate based off opposite answers. Like people always say, opposites attract. You had turned your quiz in over mail a few days after your 18th birthday. About a week later you got a letter in the mail with the name Cordelia Goode and how to contact her. A few days later you had finally built up the courage to reach out to her. A part of you was hesitant because she hadn’t reached out to you either, but you just settled on the fact that she was nervous. Once you had called her, you were so happy you did. Your assumption that she was nervous was correct, she was shy and you found it cute. You two had hit it off, so you both planned on meeting up later in the month.

 red string (bonds two soulmates together for a lifetime and all come in varying lengths—imagine the trouble of only being able to walk certain distances or having to sleep on the edge of your bed)

You had always wanted to travel to the other end of your string. Your parents had told you not until you turned 18, so the day it finally came you were over the moon. You could never travel too far west, so you knew you had to go east. The week after your 18th birthday you set out on the road. The most exciting part to you was she could be anywhere. After hours of driving, you finally ended up in New Orleans. The string didn’t have too much tension, so you knew you were getting closer to her. You followed it until you landed at Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. You were extremely excited and unbelievably nervous to just walk in there. You realized how your soulmate might not be ready for this, but it was too late to turn back now. Cordelia had realized her string was becoming less tense by the hour, so she knew you were coming. She was nervous because she wasn’t prepared at all. She had spent the few hours she had getting as dressed up as she could, like she was preparing for a date. You finally gathered the courage to walk up to the door and knock. Cordelia knew it was you at the door so she transmutated downstairs to get the door before anyone else could. Once the door was open, you realized this beautiful girl in front of you was the other end of your string, and you were already so in love.

 songbird (any songs a person sings will get stuck in their soulmate’s head for the duration they decide to sing it)

There was this one month in particular where you had WAP by Cardi B stuck in your head. Much to Cordelia’s displeasure may I add. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it because it was a woman singing it, it was just too vulgar for her taste. Cordelia is a very proper woman, so constantly hearing the lyrics of WAP in her head when she was teaching or in a meeting with other witches was distracting to say the least. For a few nights she made you sleep on the couch because she wanted the song out of your head. But being real, you found it hilarious.

For you, whenever Cordelia was working on paperwork or taking a shower, she always lowly sings Fleetwood Mac songs. So you would be going about your day when suddenly Rhiannon or Never Make Me Cry was playing in your head. It always warmed your heart to know Cordelia was in a good mood.

 timers (are set on the wrist of every person once they are a certain age, slowly counting down until the day they meet their soulmate)

On Cordelia’s 30th birthday a watch was set on her wrist, and it read 730 days. It filled her with hope she was beginning to lose. Even though 30 is not old, she felt as if she was running out of time to be with her soulmate. Once the watch had hit seven days, she was so incredibly excited to meet you it was becoming a distraction. She was slacking off at work because she was too busy imagining your meeting. Once the day had come, she didn’t know what to do. She was stressing out in her office when Zoe asked her to run into town with her. Little did Cordelia know she would quite literally run into you at the grocery store.

 undying (you and your soulmate must meet in order to end life—die—together. as long as you have not met them, you will continue aging yet remain immortal)

You had lived your entire life believing you were never going to be able to die. You have seen the lost people who wander, hundreds of years old not able to get the sweet relief of death because they haven’t found their soulmate. One day you met this beautiful witch in Los Angeles. You were both there traveling, and something about her just lit a fire inside of you. This fire that was fueled by the want to know everything about her. You two had exchanged numbers and kept in touch after you both went home. Soon after, you realized how much you missed her, and you knew you needed to be with her. You booked a one-way flight to New Orleans, and never looked back. You knew she was the woman you were going to go out with.

 valiant (when one person is in danger the other will do anything to protect them)

One day you were partying with Madison when a guy tried to force himself onto you. Immediately Cordelia knew you were uncomfortable, so she transmutated to where you were. The second she saw you she protectively wrapped her arms around you and asked if you were ok. After reassuring her you were, she smashed a glass on the guy’s head with her powers and pulled you out of there.

 writer’s choice (do whatever you want)

I feel like Cordelia would be the type to get dolled up and ready for her soulmate. She would be the type to be so unbelievably happy to have her soulmate. I picture her as a complete romantic type, so I feel like she would give her soulmate flowers and jewelry. She would of course be cautious because of the safety of her girls, but let’s be honest, Cordelia would immediately be head over heels for her soulmate.

 xtra (add on to a previous headcannon)

One day you were walking out to the greenhouse because Mallory had wanted to work on some incantations. When you got about halfway there, the words “Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion motherfucker” appeared on the inside of your right arm. Thoroughly confused, you asked Mallory what the hell just happened. Worry rapidly shot through Mallory when she saw your arm, and she ran to see where Cordelia was. Now you were lowkey panicking because Mallory got freaked out and went looking for your girlfriend. You ran after her and found her in Cordelia’s office. Mallory then had to very awkwardly explain the old timeline because Cordelia was not letting up, she wanted to know the truth. As Mallory told the stories, everything started to come back to you and Cordelia. Tears had pooled in your eyes because you remembered the fear of when Cordelia had died. But at the same time you realized that you all saved the world.

 yellow fellow (colors of your vision changes depending on your soulmates mood. yellow is optimistic, green is envious, blue is upset, etc.)

One night you and the girls had convinced Cordelia to go to a club with you all. You went to the bar to get drinks when this lady in a very revealing dress started talking to you. You two were talking, but you thought it was innocent. She had put her hand on your forearm when your vision turned green. Almost choking, you decided to toy with Cordelia. You kept talking and did the signature laugh, look up and down while you flip your hair back. At that moment you knew you went too far because the green switched to red. That night Cordelia definitely made sure to let you know to never do that again.

 zzz (in which soulmates first meet each other and share memories in their dreams before meeting each other in person—sometimes difficult to accomplish as dreams are hard to remember)

You had always seen this blonde woman in your dreams. She was always wearing a flowy, white dress, and she was surrounded by beautiful flowers. You could never make out her face, but she had this magic glow to her. You knew you had to find this woman; you just didn’t know how. One day you were watching the news when Cordelia Goode made it public that she ran a school for witches. The moment you saw her, it was like the dream came to life. You knew exactly where you had to go. You and Cordelia loved to talk about the dreams you two had had of each other before meeting.

Taglist: @sapphicsarahpaulson @winters-witch-bitch

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 2

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 2: What’s in a Name?

It was a week since Macaque had taken MK in and to the child it has been the best week of his life. When he woke up in the mornings he didn’t have to worry about there being no food as he smelt it as soon as he opened his eyes, he could play in the forest with all the monkeys as long as Mac was there and he even had clothes that fit him instead of the same stinky shirt on days end. Everything was just wonderful.

“MK, what should we do about school?”

Or at least it was, but as soon as the monkey demon asked that question, MK's whole body deflated. “Do I have to go to school?”

“Education is important shooting star,” he said as he diced up some plants. “It helps things we don’t know and things we want to know.”

“Okay, but it is really boring, I always lose all my stuff all the time, and the teacher always explains it so weirdly,” the child pouted.

“Everyone has a different method of teaching, so you may have a method of learning as well.”

“Oohh….what does method mean?”

“It’s just another word for way.”

“Oh okay,” MK then tilts his head, “so what are you doing anyways?”

“Well right now I’m cutting up some herbs so I can use to make medicine,” he explained in simple terms as he then picked up the diced up blue plant and placed it into a cauldron and began to stir it.

“I didn’t know you could make your own medicine from home!” He leaped up and tried to poke his head over the counter to watch, “I always thought that you get it at the doctor's office.”

“Well doctors actually get it from a lab where people make the medicine there, this space here is my own lab.” He gestured to the room that was filled with all types of different ingredients all placed in a package inside of one storage cabinet and in another was a cabinet filled with modern lab equipment.

“So you don’t have to be a doctor to make medicine?”

“Well for most yeah, but for me,” he grinned as he picks up MK with one hand and placed him on his hip as he continues to stir with his other “let’s just say that I have been doing this for a little over 500 years, so I have a tad bit more experience and knowledge than regular humans.”

“Can I try?!” He excitedly asked.

“Well I don’t know, sometimes it will be a bit too dangerous for you to even be In here, which by the way, do not enter this lab unless I am here,” he sternly told him.

“Okay, okay got it, but pleaseee.”

“I don’t know, think you can handle it,” he teased.

“I’m a big boy! I can handle anything!”

“Hmmmm,” he pretended to think before conceding, “Alright you persuaded me, so I’ll allow it this once,” he said as he put the spoon down, “so first we make sure we have our safety gear on.”

“Check! Check!” MK adjusted the goggles on his eyes and showed off his long sleeve jacket and gloves.

“Next, what you have to do is go slow and make large circles.”

“Slow and large circles, got it,” he then proceeded to pick up the spoon and do what he said as he stirred.

“Good job kiddo, but how bout we make that circle a little bit bigger,” he gently grabbed MK’s hand and made it a bit wider. Soon enough the medicine's previous light yellow had transformed into a dark green.

“Look, it changed colors!” MK pointed out.

“That’s the beauty of medicine kid,” Mac grinned as he set him down, “now all I have left to do is to let this simmer for a few hours and it will be ready to be bottled up.”

“That’s a lot of medicine, is that all for you?”

The demon shook his head, “no it’s actually for one of my regular clients. His students routinely injure themselves, sometimes in the dumbest of ways, so I usually make batches of this every month.” His ears then slightly twitch as he grinned, “speaking of students, MK come here. I have someone here for you to meet.”

“Who?” He tilted his head as the monkey put a lid on a pot, proceeded to put away both of their safety gear as they left the room.

“Hey old-timer, I know your hearing isn’t that bad!” A voice yelled from down below that MK could barely hear, “come grab me, I’m carrying too much shit to climb up!”

“Someone to help,” was all Macaque said before he leaped out of the open window and less than a few seconds later, returned with a short bluenette woman in his arms. “MK this is Yanyu,” he said. “Yanyu, this is MK.”

“Uhhh, he shuffled his feet awkwardly as he gave a slight wave, “hi.”

“Awww,” she cooed at him, “it’s nice to meet you MK. You're rocking a pretty cool shirt there.” She pointed to his solar system shirt, “it’s really far out man.”

There was a pause as MK stuttered out a thank you and Macaque put his face in his hands.

“That was terrible, I hope you know that,” he groaned.

“That’s what you say, I know my puns are rockin my world,” she smirked at the louder groans.

“Please stop, I beg you.”

“Then beg.”

“Are you human?” MK bluntly asked, which made the two pause.

“Strangely enough that isn’t the first time I was asked that, but yes I am fully human. Though a small percentage of me is most likely full of crazy,” she grinned widely.

“I think you have those backward,” he muttered and didn’t even flinch when she elbowed his stomach. “So your probably wondering why she’s here right?”

“Uhhh yeah,” he nodded.

“Well, I have come to the realization that despite my many years with humans, I have never actually taken care of a human child outside of giving them medication.”

“Which he means that he knows not a single thing about taking care of you tiny ones,” Yanyu butted in as she crossed her arms, “and this is where I come in.”

“Oh well that’s good...I think?” MK didn’t exactly know what she meant, but since they said it’s a good thing, he feels like he doesn’t have any complaints.

“Oh trust me, it will be,” she said as she put down the bag and it was filled with books when she opened it up. “I may be a big sister of five, but even I can admit that I don’t know everything, so I brought some parenting books, nutrition, school, and a lot more.”

He couldn’t help but deflate slightly at the last word, which the bluenette noticed.

“Don’t like school?”

“Not really, it's just that I can’t stay focused sometimes,” he admitted as he lowered his head.

“Hey now,” Mac kneeled and ruffled his head, “you don’t have to feel shame for being distracted sometimes.”

“Hmm, well if you have troubles with traditional school classrooms, then how about you try online schooling?” Yanyu said.

“Online school?” MK tilted his head.

“I didn’t know it was also available for the younger grades, I thought it was only for the college classes like you had,” he admitted as he used his feet to pick up one of the parenting books.

“Nah, it was incorporated for all years a few years back. It certainly helped a lot of students out and one of them being me,” she proudly pointed a finger to herself, “let me tell you, kid, it was the second-best decision to do online school. Made my life so much easier.”

“What was the first?” He curiously asked.

Yanyu walked over to Macaque and patted him on the shoulder, “begging this ol doc here to take me on as a student. It was the cheapest and most informative learning I ever had since high school.”

“Student? You were a teacher!” MK's eyes widened as he looked at the monkey demon.

“Kinda, though I did question my sanity during those times,” he said as he flipped through the pages.

“Oh shut up, if it wasn’t for me you would still know squat about technology.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were still using the Jiaguwen system when I first met you.”

He winced, “okay yeah you got me there.”

“Anywho, it’s gonna be a right pleasure working with you MK,” she held out a fist bump to him, “we’re gonna see a lot of each other.”

MK looked at the outstretched fist and gave a little grin as he fist-bumped her hand.

“Boom,” Yanyu made an exploding sound as she opened her fist when the two parted.

He looked at her strangely.

“Don’t worry Starbright, she’s just weird like that,” Mac patted his head.

“Hey!”

A few months have passed and MK has taken to online schooling like a fish to water. He found it much better to concentrate and while there were still a few issues over understanding the problem itself, he had the help of both Macaque and Yanyu. The last one herself was helping him with his writing.

“The girl is walking to the market by the river to get milk for her mother,” MK repeated to himself as he finished writing.

“Congratulations kid, you have finally graduated from Yoda writing to a regular language,” she gave him a little applause.

“Thank you, thank you you're too kind,” he also jumped out of his seat to give a mock bow.

“But for real kid, you have really approved with your writing,” she gave him a high five, “nice job.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you both,” he scratched the back of his neck.

“I know that you would have been just fine even without our help and I know your dad would agree.”

“Really!” Then MK realized what she said and backtracked as he flailed his arms about, “Wait dad?! I mean dad is kinda a big word and he just adopted me, so he probably doesn’t even see me as a son, more like a responsibility he has to take care-,” he was stopped by a hand gently covering his mouth.

“Whoa there little monkey easy, I can’t keep up that fast,” she lightly teased as she put her hand down, “now you want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Well,” he sat down and kicked his feet, “I-its just-I don’t really-.”

“Take your time,” the bluenette said.

“Well,” he twisted his hands “is it okay if someone-and I don’t mean me just someone I know-don’t call mom and dad, well, mom and dad.”

“Yeah,” she said easily.

“Wait really?” He was a little more than shocked at how easy she said that.

“Really. You, or my bad that person you know, don’t feel comfortable or don’t want to call their parents so that they don’t have to.”

“But they gave birth to me-I mean that person and they raised them, so shouldn’t they have that name?” He tried to insist but was shut down by her shaking her head.

“They don’t keep that name if they harm the child, no parent ever deserves that kind of title if they purposely try to bring harm to their child. It is wrong,” she stated.

“Oh...and what about those that do?” He shyly said, both knowing what he was implying but not saying it out loud.

“Then you say it when your ready,” Yanyu simply said.

“I don’t think it’s that easy?”

“No, but what is?”

MK just shrugged his shoulders.

“Now how about we put away this stuff for ten more minutes before we get into history,” she pushed away from the materials and made sure the laptop was charged up.

“Yes!” He fist-bumped the air as he then spotted the pencil on the ground and tried to pick it up with his feet.

Yanyu had to press her lips together to fight against the bubbling laugh in her throat as she watched MK struggle to pick the pencil with the socks on his feet.

“Oi bastard I need a little help ova here!” A rough voice yelled out as it was followed by a loud bang, which led to the eight year old flailing off his bed.

“How many times have I told you to stop that?” He heard Macaque's familiar voice being annoyed.

“Too many times to count,” another softer voice replied.

“But you think that gunna sticka?” The third voice laughed out loud. “That’s a laugh!”

MK slowly opened his door and crept quietly to the living room as the voices got louder.

“I guess it is too much to ask you to be quiet for once?” The monkey deadpanned.

“Now why would I do that?” The first voice said.

It was at this point that MK managed to poke his head into the living room and saw three different demons, he knows they are demons this time, and his da-Macaque.

There was one whose skin was dark brown, but lighter above the shoulders. The more he looked, the more he could see that they were actually feathers all along the body, and instead of hands, they had clawed bird-like feet and two large black wings protruding from the back.

Another one was softly glowing a light blue hue that matched the pale blue skin as the creature was gently floating just a smidge above the ground. They had almost a mushroom-shaped hat covering their eyes and dozens of dark blue and purple strings attached all around the bottom of the hat as they hung just above the demon feet.

The final one is something that MK could clearly tell what it was as he had seen a bunny before, though this one was way larger than the other bunnies he had ever seen. The demon had pure gray fur and large white fluffy paws, if he wasn’t so nervous right now he would ask to pet them.

“Well I was hoping that you would have kept it down for the kid that is currently living with me right now,” he cracked a smirk at their frozen faces.

“Huh?” They all said in unison.

“Speaking of kids, you can come out MK. Don’t worry bout them too much, they ain’t harmful, just insane.”

At the prompting MK slowly shuffled into the living room and he saw three heads swivel towards him.

“Uhhh hi,” he gave a little wave.

“You have a kid?!?” They all shouted either loudly or softly.

“It’s not that big of a shock,” he grumbled as he walked over to the child and threaded his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, these knuckleheads woke you up.”

“I know I have not been gone that long for you to have a chick without me knowin!” The female bird demon squawked as her feathers puffed up in indignation.

“Nah, adopted him a few months back.”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” The bunny huffed as they thumped his foot in agitation.

“Nope,” he grinned as he watched their growing frustration.

“There are times where you are the best of us and times you are the worst of us, I don’t know which one this falls under,” the mushroom head demon groaned as one of the strings was massaging the top of his head.

“Are they your friends?” MK loudly whispered to the monkey demon.

“I don’t claim these lunatics,” he bluntly said.

“I think you mean to say that we are your amazing, wonderful, fantastic friends that you hold dear,” the bunny demon pointed out as they put an arm around his shoulder.

“I was forced into this,” Macaque said as a wing wrapped around the two of them.

“Ah just admit that you have a soft fuzzy heart for us,” the bird demon grinned.

“Not even when my bones decay away.”

MK just blinked at the unprompted scene as he saw the glowing blue demon approach him.

“Sorry about my companions, they can be a little much sometimes,” he smiled softly to him.

“It’s fine, you're not the only ones who make a loud entrance,” he thought back to the times Yanyu would kick the door open when she walked in.

“I suppose not,” the demon then held out one of his arms to the child, making sure his tentacles were out of the way, “my name is Bohai little one.”

“I’m MK,” he smiled back and shook his hand.

“Oh, we’re doing introductions?! Well, I’m Daiyu chicky,” the female demon grinned or at least that's what he thought she was doing with her scarred beak.

“I’m Minsheng,” the bunny demon twitched their nose and gave a toothy grin, “you're so small that you remind me of my siblings when they were born.”

“How many siblings do you have?” He curiously asked.

“Pfft older or younger? I stopped counting after we reached the 200s,” they laughed.

His eyes widened, “over 200! That’s a lot of brothers and sisters.”

“Well, you know how bunnies are.”

Before MK could question that he felt two furry hands cover his ears.

“How about we don’t talk about that to a kid who has probably never had a crush before,” Macaque hissed to the bunny who had their hands held up.

“He’ll learn eventually.”

“But I would rather have that explained to him by literally anyone but you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyways,” the monkey took his hands off MK’s ears, “what were you screeching about earlier?”

“Oh well I got a bit nicked with some of dem cretins after a territory dispute you know how it is and,” Daiyu turned around and showed her back...which had a few knives sticking out of it. “I got a bit scratched up in the tussle.”

“At least you had the sense not to take it out,” he couldn’t help but sigh. “You at least win?”

“Who do ya think your talkin to?” She proudly puffed up her feathers.

“And people say I have too much pride, you damn vultures take the cake,” Macaque rolled his eyes as the two of them walked towards the infirmary room.

“You say that as if you never met Flicker before,” she chortled.

“Well there’s a stark difference between you two.”

“Wha that?”

“He actually has a brain.”

“Hey!” She attempted to pull his dangling fur, but he ducked away in time.

“Can I stay up a little longer!” The seven year old asked before the door could shut.

“Only for a little bit, but when I get back it’s straight to bed.” He answered back and then the door closed.

“Thank you!” He called out regardless as he fully knew that he could hear him.

“And that’s the whole lot of us kid, we're only half as insane as curly made us out to be '' Minsheng joked.

“Almost all of us,” the jellyfish demon said.

“Who you? Ha! Hate to break it to you, but the last time you lost your patience was when they didn’t make your starfish the way you wanted and you paralyzed the entire cooking staff.”

“You didn’t have to bring that up, but no not me,” he waved one of his tendrils. “I meant Ahmed.”

“I didn’t include him in the first place because that man does not even classify as insane,” he bluntly said. “He has the patience of a monk to deal with our brand of insanity which, in hindsight, is insane itself.”

“Whose Ahmed?” MK asked, “is he another friend of d-Mac?”

The two looked at each other before Baiyu spoke, “yeah, he’s a friend of Macaque.”

“Ouch, that’s a low blow for poor Med,” they grinned then winced as a tendril shocked their arm. “What? You know I’m right.”

“You know as well as I do that he can still hear you.”

“I’ve been craving death anyways,” they then turned back to the kid, “so you want to hear some crazy stories about your old man.”

Needless to say that Mac had tackled the bunny demon to the ground, with two violet glowing escrima sticks in hand, in the middle of their story on how the fierce monkey demon had to dance his way across a road of hot coal as he tried to outrun an angry herd of demon pheasant while wearing a rather beautiful kimono.

Macaque was reading out on the patio when his ears twitched as he heard a soft whimpering coming from MK’s room. He put the book on the table when he walked in and safely crept his way over his room and like many times before MK was crying in his sleep from a nightmare once more.

“It’s okay shooting star,” he gently began to thread his fingers through MK’s hair, “it's just a bad dream. You will be fine.”

At first, it didn't have any effect, but the longer he talked the softer the whimpers began to die down and the kid's eyes softly began to blink open.

“W-what's goin on?” He hoarsely said as he rubbed his eyes as he realized that he wasn’t dreaming anymore.

“You just had a bad dream kid,” he hummed as he continued stroking his hair.

“Oh.”

“Want to talk about it?” He received a firm shake of his head, “that’s okay, do you want to lie back down, sing, water, or want me to give you a little shadow puppet show?”

“Shadow show please,” he muffled out as he gripped tighter onto the blanket.

“One show coming right up,” he used a shadow clone to bring back a lantern as the room began to softly glow. When all was set Macaque began his tale in a low voice, “There once was an old man who lived in a shack.” He used some of his shadows to show a picture of an elderly man and wooden shack, “he was nothing special, did nothing extraordinary, and his life was simply normal. Until one day he happens upon the most peculiar thing.”

He continued to tell the tale of the old man even when he, unknowingly, had wrapped his tail around his child’s hand and MK, who was slowly drifting off into a deep slumber, held a tight grip upon it.

MK was currently sitting on the edge of a large lake as he kicked his feet in the water. He was alone at the moment as the monkey demon was tending to the plants that he needs for various medicines. The lake itself was a beautiful view filled with lily pads, reeds standing tall in the crystal lake, fishes and herons swimming in the water. Though he was trying to guess what that large dark shape was, it was nothing he has ever seen before.

“Hmmm I don’t think it’s a fish...maybe a duck?” He leaned in to get a better look and noticed. “Or maybe a turtle!”

The shape shifted as it appeared to be getting bigger and bigger as MK now noticed that he had never seen a turtle with long arms and claws before. He then saw there was long string hair upon what he thinks is its head until suddenly it disappeared and was replaced with two beady eyes. His heart dropped when the creature opened its mouth to reveal countless rows of sharp, pointed teeth. Then it began to rapidly swim towards him.

MK, frightened, fell on his back as he tried to crawl away, but it failed as the creature burst out of the water and onto the ground merely a foot away from him.

He let out a piercing scream, “DDAAADDDDD!”

At the same time the creature, with his mouth wide, said “hi there human child!”

“What?” He abruptly stopped his screaming right as an ominous force suddenly filled up the area as MK then felt two familiar hands scoop him up and hold him close as the voice spoke almost lowly.

“What happe-oh it’s just you,” Macaque let the pressure go back to normal once he realized that there wasn’t a true threat that was trying to attack his kid.

“Bwahahaha,” the creature let out a bellowing laugh, “sorry sorry. I must have scared your youngin.”

“No!” MK instantly said, but then he wilted and nodded, “just a bit.”

“Sorry about that little child, I just get a bit excited when a new face comes around my lake and all,” the webbed creature gave a toothy grin. “I know I startled the pant off Minzhe when I first met him.”

“Your lake? You live here?” MK, after being let down, carefully tried to examine the waters closer.

“Right on the mark, since being a Shui Gui and all.”

“Shui Gui,” he drawled out as he thought about that familiar name.

“Or Kappa, our damn naming changes so often that at this point I just go with the flow.”

“Oh! I know what a Shui Gui is!” MK brightened as he began to tell what his...mom used to tell him. “Aren’t they vengeful demons that have drowned and are bent on dragging helpless victims underwater, drowning them and finally eating their...flesh to…to...” his face took on a look of horror as he realized what he just blurted out. “I am so sorry!”

Luckily though the two demons chuckled, or at least Macaque did as the Kappa was holding his stomach. Though this did make MK’s face flush in embarrassment, he should be glad that the demon wasn’t angry, but he didn’t find any humor in what he said.

“Well I’ll give you credit,” Kappa said as his laughter died down, “what you said was mostly true, except I’m not a demon, just a ghost.”

“And let’s be clear he hasn't eaten people since two-maybe three millenniums ago,” the monkey demon intruded as he knew what MK was gonna ask next.

“You humans have become much too stringy for my taste,” he joked, but it served the opposite purpose as the small child paled even further.

“And this is why your only friend is an adrenaline junkie who has a taste for his own death,” Mac deadpanned as he soothed MK down.

After his heart stopped thrumming in his ears the human managed to look up at his guardian and his eyes widened as he noticed that Macaque suddenly had three pairs of different colored ears: red, blue, and purple. “When did you get three ears?!”

“You just now noticed?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Did you have them all this time?!?!!”

“Not all the time, but I do when it’s quiet usually.”

“Cooolll!” He attempted to climb the monkey to get a better look, “Is this how you're able to hear things from so far away?”

“Yeah,” he lets him examine his ears as only his eye minuscule twitch when MK accidentally pulls it too hard. “Be careful now, only have three pairs of them you know.”

“Right, sorry.” He apologized as he became gentler with his touches. He couldn’t help but gently drag his fingers through the oddly pointed ears and he smiled, now he understood why some of Mac's clients called him the Six-Eared Macaque. He eventually got down and faced the spirit once more, who was just looking at the two of them with amusement. “I’m real sorry for screaming at you.”

“Water under the bridge young child,” he waved him off, “least you apologize for it. I know that half the ones in these woods won’t even say sorry for ramming into you.”

“There’s more of you?” He tried to look in the lake, but he was once again met with only fish and water.

“Me specifically no, but spirits, demons, and other whatnot. Oh yeah there's hundreds of them dwelling in this here forest.”

“Wowww,” his eyes sparkled, “so does that mean that we are all neighbors.”

It was stunned silence before the Shun Gui began laughing once more as he bends down, “PFFTHAHAHA!”

“Did I say something funny?” MK looked towards Mac who was pinching his nose once more.

“No, he’s just obnoxious, that’s all.”

“You know what I like you kid, yeah we’re all neighbors, man even Ping would get a laugh out of this,” the water spirit said after his laughter died down. “Welcome to the neighborhood MK!”

“Thanks...umm what’s your name again?” He embarrassedly asked as he realized that he never got a name throughout this whole interaction.

“Oh here we go,” Mac sighed as he got comfortable and plucked up a Ravenna grass and began to chew on it. He grimaced as he realized that he had plucked up a weed again.

“Eh, you can call me Kappa if you want, don’t care for the whole naming thing,” he shrugged as he got back in the lake and laid there.

“Why not?” He curiously followed him.

“Why should I?” He shot back with a grin.

“Huh?”

“Why should I care for my name? It’s my name and I can do whatever I want with it, so I just choose not to care.”

“But don’t you like your name,” he was very confused about how this conversation came about.

“Oh I do, but truth be told, most of the time I forget others' names, so one day I just thought ‘you know what, what if I just don't use my name all the time’ and I didn't,” he finger gunned at the blank face child.

“You're kinda weird,” he bluntly told Kappa.

“I’m sorry,” Mac spoke up in disbelief, “You met a trio of lunatic demons that are a hot mess in general, an insane human who likes to add too much ghost jalapeño to her food, one of my clients who have their organs outside of their body and this is where you draw the line of weird?”

“I just wanted to know his name!” He threw his hands up.

“Just whatever is fine,” he laughed.

“Well fine! Your name is Whatever now!” He said in a fit of frustration before he realized what he said, “wait! I didn’t mean-,”

“Pfthahaha!” The spirit once more threw his head back in laughter.

“...what is even happening,” MK deadpanned.

“Welcome to my life Starchild,” Mac said as he ruffled his hair.

“That’s an interesting one, alright Whatever it is then,” he gave him a toothy grin.

“Wha-no please no,” MK almost begged him. “I didn’t-,”

“Nope too late, I won’t respond to anything else but Whatever from you. Hope to see you around short stack, you really know how to bring a laugh to a vengeful spirit face,” he let out a bark of a laugh before diving down deep into the lake.

MK blinked for a few moments before turning to Macaque, “is he really gonna-,”

“Oh yeah he is only gonna respond by that name,” he cut him off, “called him a Kappa once to his face and that slimy frog hasn’t let go since.”

“...I think I want to go back home dad,” said MK as he leaned into his fur. “I think I’m done for the day.”

Macaque’s breath hitched as he then gave him a gentle smile and scooped him up in his arms. “Yeah, I think I am as well.” And with that, the two mentally exhausted people made their way back to their warm home.

MK, who proudly turned nine as of a few months ago, was playing in an arcade as his dad was grocery shopping. He stuck out his tongue as he attempted to repeatedly punch the monster in Monkey Mech, but he keeps getting beaten right before he can land the final punch. He mused up his short ponytail out of frustration that was held by a red ribbon, “Oh man! I swear this guy cheats, alright seventeen times the charm.”

“I thought it was the third time the charm?” He turns around at the voice and sees a pigtail girl around his age looking at him.

“It is, but I lost sixteen other times, so this time I will win,” he confidently said as he put another token in, and just like before he lost. “I almost had it!”

“Move over,” the girl pushed him aside and took over the controls, “let me show you how to really play.”

MK's jaw dropped when the Winner title popped up after she managed to land the final triple axel uppercut to the enemy. “How’d you do that?!”

“Oh just a lot of practice, and searching online, to find the right moves to slain the beast,” she bragged.

He went down on his knees and bowed to her, “oh teach me your ways oh wise one.”

“You may refer to me as Master Mei,” she deepened her voice to sound elderly, “and who shall I call my young student.”

“Call me MK,” he followed along with glee, he hasn’t played with a kid his age in so long.

“Well then let me show you the ways of Monkey Mech,” and with that the two proceeded to play the game, playfully pushing each other as they double battled in a co-op mode. It wasn’t until a few hours had passed, and they had long passed Monkey Mech and went into all the different kinds of games in the arcade when MK noticed the digital clock behind the counter.

“Aww man, it’s getting late,” he pouted as he didn’t want to end, “I have to meet up with dad.”

“Awww,” Mei's shoulder slumped as they walked to the prize area, “that sucks.”

“Yeah,” he slumped his shoulder, as well as the two, looked through the prizes available, which did brighten the mood a bit as Mei left with a strange mutated stuffed dog that had three eyes, a few pieces of candy, and three bouncy balls, while MK was sucking on a swirly lollipop, pieces of chocolate in his pocket, and a sticky hand sling that he is slinging everywhere.

“So you like racing?” MK asked as they left the arcade, besides the Monkey Mech he noticed that Mei tended to go to the racing games more often.

“Yes! One day I will have my own motorcycle and I will be faster than anyone, even the Monkey King!” Mei declared.

“Even the Monkey King? Wow that is fast,” he said in awe, he read the story of the Journey to the West from the library. He was quickly enamored with the story the more he read and he soon began to idolize the great Monkey King. To think that such a being could ever exist in the first place was amazing! He did find it funny that the great Monkey King rival was named Macaque, it was hilarious to think that his dad could ever have powers to fight on equal standing with a god-like immortal. Grumpy? Sure! Easy annoyed? Oh yeah definitely, but scary? Ha! The scariest thing Dad has ever done was glare at his patients when they were being too noisy, but for some reason it always works as they shrink back in fear. He mentioned it to Yanyu and the demon gang one time and well-

“HAHAHAH/PFFTTTTT/SQUAK SQUAWK SQUAAAKK/SHEHEHEH,” Yanyu was rolling all over the floor as Minsheng was banging his feet, Daiyu was slamming the table with her wings, and Bohai was using all his tentacles to wrap himself.

-they burst out laughing when he mentioned this to them. He still hasn’t gotten a full answer for that one, all they told him was to wait.

“I wonder how far that can go?” Mei curiously asked as she watched the green sling attach itself on the top of the door that they were exiting.

“Not far, how high can your bouncy ball bounce?” He asked as he then watched her bounce the ball and saw it soar a bit high above their heads.

“Not that high either...how about we combine them,” she gave a mischievous grin as MK followed suit as he used his sticky sling and attached it to the ball.

“One,” Mei started.

“Two,” MK raised his hand in mid-air.

“Thr-”

“Ready to go kid.”

“AH!” They screamed and watched the sling and ball slip from his hand and instead of bouncing, it was thrown in Mac's face, who easily caught it.

“Not the first time I had something thrown at me,” he didn’t even blink at the outburst, though he did take a second glance at the other child next to his son, “though your new, made a friend Stardust.”

“Her name is Mei!” MK excitedly said though it didn’t look like Mei was paying attention to him at all as her focus was all on Macaque, or more specifically, his head.

“What?” The monkey demon raised an eyebrow.

“You have the longest hair I have ever seen,” her eyes sparkled as she instantly zoomed behind him and started to pull on his fur. “Can I braid it?!”

“It’s actually fur,” he corrected her.

“Can I still put it in a braid?”

“Sure.”

“Then I don’t care!” She happily proclaimed and pointed to one of the benches. “Sit.”

“...” he looked towards his kid who just shrugged his shoulders, “well I guess this is happening,” he sighed as he got a clone to take the rest of their groceries back home.

Needless to say that Mei very much enjoyed putting the demon fur in a messy, but still manageable, braid.

“You know if I had some Morning glories, they would look amazing in your hair,” she mused.

“You know their weeds right?” He pointed out.

“So? They look awesome.”

“You got me there.”

“There!” She proudly finished her creation with her green ribbon tied up at the end, “you have very fluffy hair.”

“Fur,” he once more corrected her.

“Eh fur, hair there the same thing,” she turned back from the monkey and to MK with a nervous smile, “you will definitely come back right? I haven’t finished playing all the arcade games with you.”

MK looks towards his dad with puppy dog eyes and Mei easily follows suit.

“You know those don’t work on me right,” he deadpanned and smirked at their hanging heads, “but yeah, I’ll drop him off from time to time.”

“Yes!” They both jump up in cheer, only for some of their candy to fall out and onto the floor.

“My babies!” MK rushed to pick up his pieces of semi-melted chocolate.

“Noooo!” Mei quickly began to grab as many of her jawbreakers as it rolled away.

Macaque watched them in amusement at their mad scramble to save their sugar fix.

For The Sake Of Better Times (Ler Hawks/Lee Dabi)

This has been a long time coming bruh. Hope you like it Eevee my heart and soul was poured into this. Love you and everything that you do <3

When you see big bad villains on TV or on the big screen, you usually see them in the midst of an incredible battle. Guns blaring, fiery explosions, big declarations of their victory over the hero. All of these big productions of turning the world into something that fits their own worldview, even if that worldview is broken and demented. One often wonders what's going on behind the mind of someone who has that worldview; one who sees a perfectly fine place as disgusting and corrupt. Because they've been through the disgusting and corrupt, and they know that not everyone's glass walls have been shattered as theirs has. The big explosions and wide killing sprees and wild maniacal laughter of a textbook villain is nothing compared to the wild currents blurring their mind and storming their heart.

  The League of Villains, a villain organization made up of powerful quirk abusers and double agents had no current agenda as of today. Most of the patrons that made up the alliance were residing in their hideout, a hollowed-out building that was restored to resemble a bar service. One of the villains that participated in the League, Dabi, occupied a bar stool and watched the latest news intently from the flat screen in the corner of the room.

 A new interrogation method against villains was being proposed by the Hero Commission, the spokesperson reported, an interrogation method that would take a sensitivity-heightening quirk and develop it into a mass-produced serum. This serum, once administered, would take the subjects five senses and heighten them to make nearly any stimuli incredibly uncomfortable. Using this, tools and extra manpower would be unnecessary seeing as how the subject would be sensitive to almost anything that would be thrown at them.  

 Dabi rolled his lidded eyes at this. What a pathetic way of saying that the Hero Commission couldn't handle the enemies as they came, they had to power them down as well as they could to get the upper hand. Taking advantage of the villain's five senses just for interrogation purposes seemed inhumane. Another patron to the League of Villains, Himiko Toga, didn't have the same reaction to this news, however.

 "Ehehehee!~ Doesn't that sound so thrilling, Dabi-Kun? Being unable to resist anything the interrogators decide to do to your unwilling body, whether you liked it or not? What if the interrogator is cute, all of your forced reactions will be the product of their actions against you! Ooooh, my heart is pounding!~" Toga smiled dreamily and twirled around like a princess, although Dabi didn't know any princesses who wielded knives with dried blood crusted over the blade. Toga threw herself onto Dabi's shoulders and pinched the spikes that his onyx hair naturally made when it was tousled like this.

 "Say you agree with me, Dabi-Kun~ We can be freaks together!" Toga's voice dropped to a seductive mutter in Dabi's ear, but this had no effect on him. The villain wasn't attracted to girls like Toga, or girls of any nature, now that he was finding out. He was about to reply, surprisingly, before he felt a finger slide down his side. He felt the pressure end at the top of his hip, but to this, he only gazed at Toga's hand to make sure the blonde villain didn't pull anything. Toga visibly pouted when the male villain didn't give her the reaction she wanted.  

 "Dabi-Kun! You're not ticklish? Why nooot? No tickles for big bad Blueflame?" Toga's fingers started to wriggle over Dabi's left side, but he simply watched. Watching the fingers slide over his cotton shirt made a memory flashbang in his mind, but the vision soon slid away once he thought about it. The bored villain slapped away his partner's hand and signaled the barkeep, Kurogiri, for a drink.

 "I don't have time for kid games like those." He said simply. This caught the attention of a certain personality in the room, a personality that not everyone was excited to see, but his presence was necessary nevertheless. The number two hero on the Pro Hero Charts, Keigo Takami, or Hawks, peered up above the couch he was seated on to get a glimpse of the onyx villain. The double agent's amber eyes shone in the dim lighting as something that the villain said piqued his interest.

 "Oh boo. You and Shiggy-Kun aren't ticklish like I want you to be. This place would be so much cuter if you were! Maybe I can steal a few of those serums from the Hero Commission and turn you into my little-" Toga daydreamed out loud, but a swooshing sound interrupted behind her, like a pile of feathers were thrown onto a chair. In a sense, they were. The double agent Hawks had selected a barstool to sit in next to Dabi, which Dabi groaned at. Hawks gave Toga a warm smile despite their different lines of profession.

 "Himiko, Shig-Man needs to see ya in his office. Said it was urgent, and you know he hates to wait. Maybe he overheard your serum idea and wants to play a prank on Twice." At this, Toga swooned and gave a girlish squeal of excitement.

  "Oh, how exciting! I already know the table I want to strap him into!~" The blonde villain skipped out of the room, humming a sweet song despite her knife scraping up the plaster on the walls as she ran past. Hawks watched her leave and shook his head, turning back to see Kurogiri handing Dabi his drink.

  "So, Staples, when you say that you don't have time for certain kid games, what exactly are those kid games? Are you saying that you played different games when you were a kid?" Dabi threw the conniving man a sideways glance as he finished the sip of his darkly colored drink.

  "Staples? The hell kinda name is that? It's Dabi, and nothing more. Secondly, you don't get to know the kid games I played when I was younger. Because I didn't play any of them." Dabi's tone was quiet but forceful. Sometimes that was scarier than being loud and upfront. Hawks, or Keigo, drummed his fingers over the wooden barkeep. Dabi's response didn't scare him, not this time anyway; it riled him up. His crimson wings were puffed up and clearly agitated like an upset bird.

 "So what did you do over the course of your childhood then? You didn't pop up in the gutter at 24 years old and just start blowing shit up." Keigo was needling for something; he didn't know what it was exactly, he just wanted to get any indication that Dabi had been happy at least once in his life. Maybe happy with a childhood friend-

  "Let it alone before I turn you into a burnt chicken wing," Dabi growled and shoved his barstool back to stalk out of the room. Kurogiri watched silently. Keigo's left leg bounced as he thought up an idea to look inside Dabi's past. There was something that the blonde hero was looking for, and maybe with enough pressure, Dabi would give it up. Keigo sniffed and looked up to the television, the Pro Hero Eraserhead speaking on the panel about the developments of the sensitivity-heightening serum.

 "-serum is now being trial-tested against our own strongest participants. This project will put an end to cruel and unusual interrogation methods. The Hero Commission recognizes that these villains are wicked, yes, but they still deserve to be treated with a level of dignity and respect that these new developing methods will offer. Thank you very much for your time." The tired hero stood from his chair and bowed towards the reporters who were all asking their questions at once. Keigo's wings suddenly perked up with an incredible idea.  

 '''''''''''''''''''''''''

 "Yeah, Shig said he wanted us in the conference room. Something about this sensitivity-heightening serum has him rubbed the wrong way." Keigo relayed onto Dabi, who was walking right next to the conniving hero. The hero's heart was racing. Two days after the incident at the bar, the number two hero had pulled some strings with the scientists creating the serum and had them form it into a gas. He had them make it under confidential means. It was the chloroform gas that was the hard part to set up-

 "Whatever it is, let's get done with it. I got shit to do." So short and to the point with him. Keigo was jealous of Dabi's straightforward demeanor. Alright, the room was almost here. Just a little bit further before Dabi realized that they were needed in the conference room that was on the other side of the building.

The golden double agent and the onyx villain walked into a decontamination hallway, the doors on either side locking and bolting shut. Dabi looked visibly confused before it was replaced with his usual bored expression. The villain turned to the hero for an explanation. Keigo shrugged nonchalantly.  

 "You know the boss. Every precaution is not nearly enough..." Dabi had turned his back on the hero as he narrowed his eyes towards the chambers that held the decontaminating spray. There were black nozzles screwed onto the chambers that hadn't been there before. Dabi's cyan eyes flew open as a thin vapor began to seep into the chamber. Keigo had just clamped a mask over his own mouth and nose as Dabi was already losing consciousness, his knees striking the floor and his hands sending out small defensive flames. Keigo relished a quick moment of pride as he watched the hardened villain choke on the powerful gas, his head already rolling to the side in defeat.

 The hero knelt down beside Dabi and held his cheek; the insane murderer looking almost innocent in his peaceful rest. "Poor Dabi. You'll realize soon enough that I'm doing you a favor. You and I both need to find out what happened to Touya Todoroki.."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

 The room was cold, freezing even, as if the cold air were needles sticking into his skin. He was too aware of his surroundings even with his eyes closed; the biting leather strapped over his arms and legs, his soft cotton shirt now a lead weight on his chest, his soft aerodynamic hair now a dense mat on his forehead. It was incredibly bizarre and uncomfortable; it was like he was feeling everything all at once. And not just feeling; The dim lights in the room were bright enough to him that they stabbed into his shut eyes, he could taste the acrid gas that had knocked him out on his tongue despite it being hours since that had happened, the low buzzing of the generator outside of this holding cell was a high enough frequency to give him a headache. The skin stitched between his scarred skin and pale skin were like live wires sparking against his nerves.

 "Sensory overload, must be absolute hell. I can't imagine what it must feel like. Then again I'm not really interested in finding out. Oh, and don't try to get yourself out with your flames. Not only will it hurt like hell against your sensitive skin, but your quirk has been canceled out anyway. I totally didn't have some guests over while you were konked to help me set this up...and take pictures of you." The voice that was speaking to Dabi sounded like he was fighting back a laugh. It was also damn loud and obnoxious, more so than with this sensitivity-heightening serum coursing through his veins.

 Dabi's lidded eyes opened with a furiousness in his pupils so honest that Keigo swallowed nervously. Dabi had his arms strapped outward on either side of him, his palms face up and clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Leather straps were pulled tight over his biceps, forearms, and wrists. A belt laid dangling by the side of the table in case his midsection needed restraint, and his legs were held down at his thighs, above his knees and his ankles. Keigo couldn't help but look him over a few times; the villain looked like he was made just to be on this table and in these restraints.

 "Let. Me. Out. Before I set your skeleton on fire." Dabi growled, and pulled on the restraints. They were tight and unforgiving, no wiggling room here. Whatever was in that serum also made sure to sap him of his strength; the once strong villain felt as if he were made of liquid. Keigo shook his head and tsked, walking over to place a hand on Dabi's belly. The hero's light hand felt like a five-pound weight on the sensitive villain. Dabi watched the hero's every move, although it didn't feel like nearly enough to prepare him for what was to come.

"Tsk tsk, little blueflame. You really think I'd set you free after everything I've done to get you here? Not to mention," Keigo's luminous golden eyes looked up to Dabi's cyan ones, a hardened seriousness in the pupils, "that you're a convicted child abductor." Keigo removed his hand from Dabi's chest, and Dabi took in a deep breath once Keigo had looked away. The villain felt as if a  weight had been removed from his chest. This serum was horribly effective; it almost made him sick.

 Keigo turned back to Dabi and cracked his knuckles. Dabi started to sweat; he had no idea just how elevated his nerve endings were and how they would receive everything, but he felt like all of his nerves were standing on the edge of his skin, just underneath the surface. Despite his anxiety, Dabi cleared his throat and shook his head.

 "I'm no child abductor. That brat from UA was Shigaraki's project. I knew the kid was bad news from the start." His voice came out evenly, thank God. But this didn't convince Hawks. Keigo walked back over to Dabi and inspected his restraints. The fun must be about to start, Dabi involuntarily thought in his head. He took choppy breathes, wondering what torture would be first on the docket.

"Nah ah ah, not Bakugou. I'm talking about Touya Todoroki. He's been missing for about 10 years now. He came from a loving family with siblings and friends alike...but he suddenly disappeared. And you were the last one to have been seen around him." Dabi's heart flipped at the name. He didn't know why, he's never heard the name before. But something settled in his stomach like a fluttering of butterfly wings. Keigo placed his hands flat on the table on either side of Dabi, the warmth of his skin was even felt against Dabi's hypersensitive nerves.

 "You're gonna tell me what you did to Touya Todoroki, even if I have to force you." Dabi looked at Keigo like he was a crazy person. He's never taken a kid named Touya, but his body felt like it remembered the name even if his brain didn't. Dabi cleared his throat and hardened himself before looking back up at Keigo.

 "Whatever you do won't get the truth. You have the wrong guy, and even if I did have any idea what you're talking about, I wouldn't give you shit." Keigo chuckled darkly at this and set his bare fingers up to Dabi's triceps and traced along the muscled lines in his skin. Keigo hardened his own expression, flat gold disks looking into even blue plains, and smirked at Dabi's immediate reaction. The villain had twitched and jolted in his chair, his fists balling up and his muscles flexing underneath the leather straps.

 "We'll see about that. Oh-ho-ho, we'll see." The blonde hero kept his smirk on his face as Dabi tried to worm away from the alien sensations; Keigo lightly tracing his fingers underneath the villain's twitching arms. Dabi hasn't felt a sensation this light in years; he's completely forgotten anything could feel so gentle and tingly.

 "Ya know Stitches, this sensitivity-heightening quirk caught my eye for a reason. The scientists who developed it reported that nerves the subject thought had gone dormant years ago were suddenly reawakened, like the kindles of a dying fire bursting into bright flames in a split second." Dabi's fingers knuckled, his breath hitching as Keigo's fingers skittered nearest to his open armpits, but scuttled back at the last second. Dabi shuddered and let out his breath silently. Keigo however, soaked in every delicious reaction with a sadistic hunger.

 "At first I thought, "There's no way hardened lowlife criminals could be so sensitive to such small stimulus. Bright lights, loud music, gross smells-" Keigo took both of his pointer fingers and circled them around the outer rim of Dabi's armpits, which made Dabi's eyes fly open and suck in his breath. The damn tingles were climbing in his arms and fluttering in his chest, like there was a swarm of butterflies caged in behind his ribs. "-light touches~ Oh don't tell me these light touches are doing anything for you, are they? They're already drawing out such animated expressions from the most stoic man I've ever seen stalk this earth."

 Dabi's stomach was jumping, like he was going uphill on a rollercoaster, just waiting for the descent. The onyx villain's fingers relaxed, however, once Keigo drew his own fingers away from the sensitive spot. Keigo quirked his lips and held his chin, in a thinking pose before the restrained criminal. The blonde hero resembled a butcher standing over a cow carcass, wondering which part of the animal he was gonna slice up first. Dabi swallowed in a dry throat as he chose his words cautiously. As he opened his mouth to speak, Keigo pointed a finger to the ceiling as he thought up what he wanted to say with a delighted grin on his face.    

 "Of course. There just so happens to be a word for this phenomenon, these light touches that feel like they're taking over your body~" Keigo suddenly swooped in close to Dabi and layered all ten of his fingers onto Dabi's raised individual ribs. Dabi's eyes stared right into the double agent's unreadable expression as the fingers started to press in.

 "It's called 'tickling', the kid games that you were dissing earlier. Looks like we have all the time in the world to play them now, right little blueflame? And you're just sensitive enough to enjoy them this time with me~" Keigo's fingers shook into Dabi's ribs, each finger taking up a bone and vibrating into it. Dabi winced instinctively, but instead of pain, he found maddening consistent tingles. Ungracefully, the villain let out a snort and started letting out frantic giggles. His muscled arms pulling on the restraints and his legs hitched up to try and curl into a ball.

 "Pffmmt- H-Hahahawks! S-Stohohop thihihis nahahahaow!" Deep baritone laughs rumbled out from Dabi's chest without his consent. There was no restraining or trying to keep back his giggles. Keigo's fingers were like lead weights scribbling on his hypersensitive skin. Keigo had a proud look on his face; he was half-expecting for something like this to simply not work on Dabi. But it seemed the exact opposite was true. This was working a little TOO well; with the hardened criminals face bright and squinted in a look of happiness.

 "Mmhmm... If you wanna tell me what happened to Touya Todoroki, I'd be more than happy to help you. On the other hand, though, it looks like you're missing some ribs there, kid. Wouldn't want ya walking around with half an empty ribcage, now would we~" Keigo narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face as he started from the top of Dabi's ribcage and made sure to scritch each bone and count loudly enough for the villain to hear.

 "Ooone...twooo...threee-" "Keihehehego stohohohop!" "Mmmm...I don't think 'stop' is an acceptable number, I'll have to start aaaall the way back at the top~" With Dabi's arms spread on either side of him, every time he bucked to rid himself of the sensation just pushed the hero's lead fingers into his sensitive skin. His skin felt as if Keigo's fingers were actually about to reach inside of him and count the bare bones of his skeleton.

 The blonde hero took a moment, stilling his fingers, to watch Dabi's reactions to his stimulus. A bright smile infused with mirth was spread across his face; his eyes already glittering over with tears, and his fluffy hair crowned his head to make him look like a bashful giggling kid. His cheeks were dusted over with a light pink from all his hard chuckles. Keigo bit his tongue to keep back the truth; he wanted to blurt it all out for Dabi so they could hurry up and reminisce together.

 The hero covered up his torture stopping by becoming all business and suddenly gripping Dabi's chin to force him to look up into his golden eyes. Dabi was woozy from his lack of oxygen, a dumb smile still plastered across his face. It made Hawks' heart do kickflips, but he couldn't speak to that now.

 "Touya Todoroki was declared a missing person 10 years ago on October 25th, 2010. What did you do with him? Is he still alive? When is his birthday?" Keigo threw all of these questions at once at the dumbfounded villain. The villain tried to jerk his head out from the hero's grip but the hero held on tight.

 "I told you already you fucking dumbass birdbrain! I never abducted any kid! The squirt probably got hit by a train or was bullied to death by some bastard schoolkids!" That last yelp of desperation left his chest without him realizing what he said. Bullied to death....bullied?  Something about that doesn't feel right. Like...it's true. Maybe the kid was bullied. It's almost as if... I've experienced it-  

 Dabi's thoughts were suddenly scattered with his own bouncing cackles; Hawks' fingers gripping his slender sides and squeezing into them. Hawks made sure to hold onto his bottom ribs and taze them while his thumbs squished into the criminal's skin. Dabi jerked on his leather restraints as the cords of his neck stood out on the surface of his skin from his insane laughter.

 "GAHAHAHAD!! STAHAHAHAP!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW SHIHIHIT!! I SWEHEHEAR!!' The criminal's eyes screwed shut tightly in his laughter, the vibrations so deep and pronounced that it felt like it was inside of him. Dabi's knees pulled up and slammed back down on the table in an attempt to do anything to get out of this situation, but his restraints were too tight. Keigo had a VERY amused look on his face at this recent development.

 "Swearing already?~ That's cause for celebration, isn't it? Bravo to our modern scientists for creating something so malicious that it made our hardened criminal swear within the first five minutes~ Although, it doesn't answer my question. Where is Touya Todoroki? What color is his hair? What outfit was he wearing on the day you captured him?" Keigo threw nonsense questions at Dabi to see how he would react to them. Of course, Keigo already knew all of the answers, in part anyway, but he wanted to see how this villain would crack under the pressure. The hero's fingers vibrated in Dabi's lowest ribs as his thumbs massaged in two places on his lean belly. Keigo tried not to look for too long at the villain's contracting abs.

 Dabi's limbs were restless in their quest to try and weasel their way out of this situation; his legs and arms squirming and wrestling against the restraints. Dabi's fists balled up to try and fight the maddening tingling sensations, and his hips bucked up like the bronco he was only to slam down on the table once more. Keigo felt like he was tickling the riding bull you find in dive bars and the like.

 "I SAHAHAID I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW THE FUHUHUCKING KID!! YOU GAHAHAHA!-" Dabi's deep rumbling laughter soon turned into high pitched hysterical giggles. Keigo's crimson wings had accidentally fluttered over the criminal's belly as he had shifted in his place. Keigo looked back at his magnificent wings and soon had a horrible look shadow over his face. The hero's fingers stilled once more as he plucked a feather out from his own wing. Dabi's cyan eyes were rolled to the back of his head as he laid limp on the table; his mouth open and sucking in as much oxygen as possible.

 "I don't think that's gonna cut it, Patches. I want real answers, not this tippy-toe bullshit you keep pulling on me. I'm gonna get what I'm looking for even if it means I have to kill you." His voice was deep and serious enough for Dabi to perk up and look at him. Dabi didn't care about dying; he even welcomed it at this point just to get out of this damn table. Dabi turned sharply towards his collarbone and coughed into his shoulder. A regular cough wouldn't hurt unless it was a virus, but Dabi's hyper-sensitive insides made this cough burn up his parched throat. The villain looked back with a newfound seriousness and tried not to look too terrified at the slim wiggling feather in the hero's hand.

 "Ask the multiple personalities dude or the blonde psycho bitch! They're always up to some random bullshit that doesn't involve me. I only live by Stain's ideologies and live up to the expectations to make the future he wanted to be realized. Child abduction isn't gonna make that future happen!" Even Dabi could hear the desperation in his own voice; he wanted to kill Hawks for making him so vulnerable. Especially while the hero was looking down at him with that damn lazy smirk, like this was all too amusing for him.

 Keigo took a long breath and twirled the feather in between his fingers; his lips quirked in that thinking look once more. Dabi's eyes couldn't tear away from the hypnotizing piece of tickling equipment. The blonde hero could tell that Dabi was getting shrill, and distraught at that. He was getting there; with just a little more pushing Keigo could possibly unlock Dabi's memories and make him see that HE was Touya Todoroki himself. That's what all of this was.

 "Mmmm... not convinced. Sorry, when it comes to child abduction cases like these, pointing fingers won't help when I know YOU'RE the child abductor. Just a matter of time until you wanna admit it to me. But hey, at least it's fun torture and not a messy one, right? A few things I have to do before we get started up again though-" Keigo stepped forward and tucked his feather in the crest of Dabi's ear like he was holding a pencil there.

 "Hold onto that for a second," Keigo said simply as he lifted Dabi's thin cotton shirt and lifted it up over his head.

  "As soon as I get out of these restraints, you're bones are gonna be liquefied inside of your damn disgusting body." Dabi hissed, while Keigo wasn't paying attention to that and staring directly at Dabi's impressive toned six-pack. Dabi followed Keigo's gaze and blushed deeply at the realization. Keigo suddenly snapped out of it and reanimated himself.

 "Oh, well, in that case. I'll just put more on you so that doesn't have to happen!" Keigo flashed Dabi a squinted smile and took the straps that lay on either side of Dabi's hips. Keigo pulled on the leather belt tightly so now his midsection couldn't buck in any direction. The belt also helped pull Dabi's diamond navel taut. Dabi's belly and entire torso were unmarked with his scars; the scars only curving over his sides and disappearing under his pants. Keigo also noted that Dabi's hips were deep and indented, like someone pressed their thumbs into them. They must be really warm and hopefully very sensitive at this rate-

 Keigo cleared his throat and stole back his feather with a wink while he was face to face with Dabi, to which Dabi attempted to headbutt the birdman. It was then that Dabi realized that with the belt now strapped just above his belly button, any wiggling room that he had before had just evaporated.

 "Realizing just how fucked you are? And the effects of the serum don't start depleting until the victim's body has cooled down. The victim's body cooldown tells the serum that the job has been finished and the Hero's have the information they're looking for. Until then, it lasts as long as it needs to." After Keigo's helpful explanation, Dabi then noticed just how hot his body actually was, like he was running a high fever. Which meant that the serum was probably running at it's highest potent capacity to keep him horribly hyper-sensitive to any and all touches. Keigo watched the realization play over Dabi's face as he stepped forward and started circling his wiggly feather over Dabi's belly button.

 Dabi jerked immediately and clamped his teeth down to prevent any giggles from slipping out. Keigo watched with a newfound sadistic hunger; he watched with the sudden drive to make this man shout his lungs out and regret ever forgetting about his childhood best friend.

 "This can all stop if you just tell me where the kid is. Just give me a location and I'll send the heroes on their way. I got a phone right here. I got heroes at my disposal. We're just waiting on you, Patchwork." Keigo continued to circle and even started sweeping his feather across Dabi's strip of belly like he was dusting a piece of furniture.

  Dabi shook his head and kept his laughter caged in his chest. The single feather was so tingly that he wanted to crawl out of his skin. "I mmph- I t-tohold yohou! I- grrmmph- I-I don't knohow ahahanything about the kid! I never heheard his nahame before!" Dabi involuntarily thought back to Touya Todoroki's name, the damn kid that he was being tortured over. In Dabi's haze, he thought he remembered the Bakugou brat having a friend named Todoroki-

 "Wahait wait wait! I-I-I remember something! I reeheemehember sohohomething I promise!" Dabi pleaded, Keigo taking immediate pity and stopping his red wiggly feather. Keigo pointed his feather like an accusing sword towards Dabi's face.

 "If the information is bullshit, you're getting a second dose injected right in your belly button. Imagine that hell burning in your stomach. Think about this wisely." Dabi swallowed what felt like cotton balls in his throat. He didn't know if Keigo was bullshitting or not, but he also didn't know if he could trust his own memories. He's never been able to remember too much of anything past his twenties... Dabi's shaking fingers hardened into fists as he hardened his resolve to get out of this table.

 "Okay okay... The Touya kid has a brother right? Todoroki? What's the half and half kid's name? Shoto? Yeah, it was Shoto. Go fucking torture him for answers instead of me you damn prick! He knows more about his own brother than I do-" At the sound of the repeated use of the word 'brother', a flash of red hair jumped past Dabi's vision. Keigo shook his head and was starting to step forward to tickle the criminal's belly once more before Dabi hurriedly stopped him. "Woah Woah Woah Woah Woah, hold on, hold on! The Touya kid had red hair! Instead of half and half like his brother, he had all red hair." And white hair with red strips, and blank white hair like the snow- Dabi involuntarily remembered this as well, but before he could grab onto it, it slid away.

 Keigo had a pleased look on his face, however. Dabi was starting to remember bits and pieces of the past, and that's what Keigo wanted. Just a little bit further, and hopefully he would remember who he was.

 "Finally, we're getting somewhere. Unfortunately, no cookies for you. We know Touya had red hair, his family comes from a line of gingers. We need to know where the kid is, Dabi. And you're the only one with the answers. So let's hear 'em." Dabi fought the urge to protest as Keigo willed about six of his feathers to detach from his wings and dust over Dabi's belly, while Keigo's fingers gripped his sides and scribbled his manicured nails into them. Dabi pulled on his restraints and cackled loudly into the sound-proof room.

 "CHRIHIHIHIST!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOHOW AHAHAHANYTHING!! LET ME GOHOHOHO!!" Dabi's eyes screwed shut as his mouth was agape with his hysterical laughter. Both Hawks and Dabi were unaware that the reserved and quiet male could produce such sounds. Dabi's veins stood out like cords against his neck as his chest heaved in with his laughter. Such small stimulus is driving him insane, Hawks thought to himself. Six of his feathers from his crimson wings were dusting over his belly and his navel, while his fingers scratched and scraped over the villains pronounced ribcage. Sure, maybe it was a little intense in terms of tickling, but he thought that this would be too easy for the hardened villain. Apparently not; Hawks could see that Dabi was fighting for breath already.

 "HAHAHAHAWKS I SWEAHAHAHAHA-" Dabi cut his own laughter short with a hard snort. One of the fluffy crimson feathers had started twirling itself into Dabi's stretched navel. There was nowhere that the villain could twist on the table to escape its feathery clutches. Hawks cracked half a smile. Even if he were to take his hands off the villain's ribcage to halt his fingers tickling, which he did; Dabi still produced the same amount of crazed hysterical cackles from just the feathers tickling. The double agent stood with his arms folded and watched his childhood best friend laugh an insane amount.

 The villain had tousled his onyx crown all over his eyes; the once fluffy hair now a dense mop against his forehead. Dabi's smile was agape enough that Keigo could see his glinting incisors. His biceps flexed and struggled; the sweeping of the crimson feathers not ceasing for a moment. They traced over his waistline, the deep cavernous dips of his hip indents, fluttering over the small pinch of skin underneath his navel. Keigo stood fascinated by the scene, while Dabi's eyes started rolling in the back of his head.

 "-AHAHAHAP!! I'LL-I'LL TAHAHAHAHALK I PROHOHOMISE!" That roused Keigo out of his stupor. He forgot that Dabi was in an extremely sensitive situation. The agent quickly halted his feathers and lifted them up from Dabi's belly. The feathers had worked so fervently that the villain's hypersensitive skin was a baby pink on the surface of it. Dabi sniffed back his tears of mirth and heaved in delicious clean oxygen. It was ice cold in his lungs, but the villain much preferred it over the sweaty ticklish hell he was just subjected to.

 "Alright, Staples. Get to talking then, or there's gonna be a lot more feathers where that came from. You don't want these puppies all over you in the situation you're in." Keigo flapped his wings and shook them out to showcase his entire wingspan of crimson ticklers, all individually flowing and wiggling delicately in the air. Dabi gave him a death glare, but even the feathers made him gulp. The villain flexed his fingers as he tried to think up of something that this douche didn't already know about the kid. Keigo could see the villain's brain working to think up a bullshit story just to appease him. That just meant more tickles for-

 "He-He was 15 when he went missing. His father had abused him when he was young and he was shunned by his siblings. His mother tried to protect him but-" But she was crazy. And no one protected him. He was the forgotten one, the one who faded into the background. And no one had a problem with that.  

  Dabi choked on his words, clearing his throat and clearing his mind. Keigo watched with interest as Dabi had spilled all of this information from thin air. Even the villain looked confused, he didn't know where this revelation came from.

 "Mm-hmm, quite the truth serum this stuff is, isn't it? Just a little bit more and you can get off this table and get yourself an ice cream." Dabi shot his gaze up to Keigo's eyes and pulled on his restraints.

"N-No! No more I can't handle it! It's too much! Don't do this!" For some reason Dabi didn't even sound convincing to his own ears. Maybe because even he knew that no matter how much pleading he tried, he wouldn't get out of this until he coughed up more information. Keigo looked quite amused by the display, however. That fox's grin was back on his face.

 "Come on now, it can't be that bad, little patch~ It's just some tickling afterall." Dabi's heart stopped when Keigo walked up to him and gently placed his fingers on Dabi's waistline. "Little kid games, right Blueflame? You can handle it." Keigo suddenly gripped Dabi's right hip and squished his thumb inside, making Dabi curl up and giggle like a schoolboy.

  "Gahahahad! Hahahaha-Hahahaow mahahahany tihihihimes?!" "How many times what? How many times do I have to tickle tickle tickle you before you get the gist of your situation? You're not getting out of this until I get my answers, kid. So cough 'em up, before you cough up a lung." Even holding Dabi's hip like this made the villain squeal out. His hips bucked and shook in their binds, which only drove the hero's thumb in further to his divet.

 "I dohohohon't knohohohow anything! I-I cahahan't rehehember!" Hawks could see that Dabi was actively trying to remember something, he wasn't lying in a situation like this. And Keigo wasn't wanting him to remember his childhood trauma or to relive it in any way, he just wanted his childhood best friend to remember him. Hawks took a deep breath in his lungs and decided to up the anty. Hawks sent four crimson feathers up to Dabi's stretched armpits, the wiggling plumes fluffing over the villain's soft divets. Dabi started to shriek, but Hawks suddenly slid his hands down to Dabi's thighs and squished into the soft material.

 Dabi must have unlocked a second quirk along with his Cremate abilities, because Hawks had never heard such an unearthly howl thrash itself from Dabi's chest. Keigo winced from the piercing sounds from the villain as Dabi's eyes were screwed tightly in hysterical cackles with tears budding in the corners of his eyes. The feathers twisting and fluffing in his stretched armpits along with Hawks kneading up and down his toned thighs had the villain in tears. Dabi didn't know which way to buck, to twist, to jump on the table. He was stuck either leaning into the fluffy feathers for more relentless dusting, or to literally push himself into his captors hands for closer and more effective squeezing.

 "Looks like you're in a pickle, bud. I say just cough up the information and be done with the whole thing but, to each their own, right? If you like it, you like it. I won't judge, I'm having way too much fun~" Keigo had his thumbs fixed to the villains inner thighs as his other eight fingers splayed out as wide as they could stretch to squeeze and grip the skin underneath Dabi's jeans. Dabi wanted to tear his hot tingling skin off with how insane the sensations were.

 "SHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUCK-GAHAHAHAHAD!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!!" Dabi was screaming at this rate, the man's throat parched and raw from the yelling. Keigo rolled his eyes at the exclamations of his victim when something silver flashed in his eye. Keigo thought it was probably just the restraints glinting off the light in the room, but it was Dabi's stitches that caught his eye. Keigo suddenly had a stroke of curiosity and reached behind him to pluck a feather from his wings and swiped the fluffy appendage across Dabi's silver stitch.

 It was liked the criminal was electrified, his body jolting like it touched a live current and his insane cackles jumped an octave with the single swipe. Dabi's stitches had already been sensitive to touch even before he had the serum in his body. Now the nerve endings underneath the stitch felt like it was intertwined with the silver itself. Keigo bit his lip at the torture that was to come. Watching Dabi writhe on the table with the feathers in his armpits, Keigo sent six feathers to every visible stitch on the mans body and let the appendages fluff and dust and wriggle all over him. They were twirling in his ears and driving in his collarbones; they were doing figure eights in his armpits and dragging up his triceps; they were skating down his sides and writing nonsense with their quills down the lines of his abs.

 "GOHOHOHOD!! SAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEE!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! I-I'M DHYHYHYHYING!!" It was a horribly dramatic thing to exclaim that Keigo should have listened to, but the way the bird saw it, if Dabi still had breath in his lungs to shout, then he should be fine. Keigo's never seen such a contorted face on anyone before. It was a mix of childlike happiness and mirth with pure anguish and torture. But, whatever gets the truth out, Keigo supposed. It was only a matter of time before Dabi choked on the truth. And Keigo could never get enough of the sight of Dabi's abs contracting with every giggly laugh harvested from his chest.

 "KEHEEHEEHEE-KEIGO!! KEHEHEHEEIGO PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! STOHOHOHOHOP!! I-I REEHEEMEMBER!! STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!!"  Dabi suddenly erupted his confession once Keigo neared his bucking kneecaps with his own fingers. Keigo's feathers and hands suddenly halted; the villains heart bursting through his ribcage. The poor captured man had aching ribs and a sore stomach, and his limbs were irritated from pulling on them for so long. Hawks stood with his hands on his hips. His entire body shivered with flashes and icicles, his searing hot sweat sliding down his icy back. It was complete hell, but the stimulus was enough to break the barrier of his lost memories. This was it. Dabi just needed to remember where he came from and who he used to be. Maybe he'd be more cheerful, or at least a little more...anything, at this point.

 Dabi's head was laid back on the table, his body slightly curled up in the small defense he had. His eyes were rolled up to the whites in exhaustion. But in the swirling chaotic blackness behind his eyelids that he was used to, he saw something new. Something he hasn't appreciated in a long time.

 Summer, the scalding heat on the back of my neck, the taste of ice-cold popsicles, the sand inbetween my toes. Being the kid with the dad who pushed them the highest on the swingset. My scraped knees and elbows patched up by the smiling boy. The summer festival and the exploding fireworks in the infinite sky above me.  My best friend who stood there to watch when nobody else would. Keigo, my best friend. His toothy smile and his squinting eyes; his untied shoelaces and messy hair. He never left my side. But  I left his.

 Suddenly I don't feel so heavy. I don't feel so alone, so burdened with this weight on my chest. Because I know Keigo is there. He always was.

 "And I always will be, Touya." Dabi slowly looked up to see Keigo with a gentle smile on his face. Dabi hadn't realized that he was speaking aloud. Hawks turned to Dabi's right arm and started setting free his aching wrist. But after this newest revelation, Dabi didn't feel hurt anymore. He felt like a completed puzzle; the lost piece that made him whole was finally inserted. Dabi held his wrist to his chest and rubbed over his tingling body to rid himself of the leftover sensations.

 "T-Trauma's a bitch, huh? It...Itmade me forget my best friend, the only one who was truly there for me. I'm...I'm sorry about that, Keigo." Keigo shook his head, his bangs swaying back and forth. "Please, don't be sorry. It's your dad that should apologize. I just wanted you to remember everything that was bright in your life, and not live in this bleak purgatory. You have friends and people who care about you. And you used to smile all the time, you know. I know it's not your fault that you forgot who you were and you forgot how to smile. But now at least, maybe you can put your past to good use in the future."

 Dabi nodded, understanding Keigo's words better than he would have thought. Keigo extended his hand out to Dabi to help him off of the table. Dabi hesitated for a moment, a good second passing before he grabbed it and hopped off the table. Dabi was still slightly curled and hunched even as he walked, his defenses still not lowered after that episode.  

 "Don't worry, it's all over. No more tickles, I promise. Unless you kinda liked it, then I can give you more. I thought I saw you leaning in for some more now and again on the table. You also remember how ticklish you used to be and you still are, right? I mean, I thought something this childish was gonna work on ya dude, but your vocal cords must be thrashed-"

  "Yeah, you know what, Keegs, I think I remember just how ticklish you used to be as well when you were a kid. Care to test it out?" Dabi picked up one of the syringes off the table filled with the swirling blue sensitivity serum with a horribly antagonizing look in his eyes.

 Keigo gulped and ran for dear life.

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-two

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 7.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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act three ➻ part four

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If your blood could run any colder, it would, but you think you’re already on the verge of passing out because of the impact of Seonghwa’s revelation. Words die on your tongue, nothing comes out, and all you can do is flit your gaze between Seonghwa and the door off to the left. An exit, a getaway, an opportunity for you to run away from this mess – yet you can’t move a muscle. Seonghwa lifts his hands as though to show you that he means you no harm, but your mind is already running haywire. He must notice your wandering gaze because it’s the first thing he comments on.

“I won’t stop you from leaving,” he says, tone almost too steady and calm for your liking. Perhaps it’s merely the panic that pumps through your veins like blood though. “This isn’t – I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but we can talk about it now if you’d like. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. I promise that you do not have to be afraid of me, Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Hongjoong. Does Hongjoong know?” You spit out the question, the only thing you’re able to get out in the haze of panic.

“Does he know what? About you or me?” Seonghwa tilts his head ever so slightly. His movements are slow and careful, and even in his confusion, you can tell that he’s trying his best to show you that he means you no harm.

“Bo-Both.”

A sharp inhale, and Seonghwa looks off to the side. His hesitancy leads you to believe that Hongjoong knows about you, but Seonghwa shakes his head in denial.

“He only knows about me, not you. I haven’t told him.”

“How long – how long have you known?”

“I’ve been… suspicious since we met. The moment I saw you, I could tell that something was off and different. I couldn’t pinpoint it or figure it out right away.” Seonghwa lets his hands slowly fall back to his sides as he continues to speak, gaze slipping to the floor rather than at you. “Hongjoong truly believe that fate is what brought you onto the ship, and I have to agree with him. There’s no way that you – a Siren – could’ve just waltzed onto the ship without it being fate. Once you woke up from the surgery and we started talking more, I had some doubts and wondered if I was reading into things or misinterpreted something. It wasn’t until we were on Aegos that I was able to confirm it. The night after we found you and San in the warehouse and we were sleeping in the same bed. That’s when I knew.”

“Did you see my tattoos? Is that what gave it away?” You draw your arms closer to your body by instinct, hugging yourself tightly as you finally manage to look at Seonghwa’s eyes.

“No, no.” He shakes his head several times before lifting his chin. “It was the Dreamscape. I saw you curled up in the water. The old man pointed me towards you, but as soon as I got close to you, you disappeared.”

“H-Hold on,” you stammer and squeeze your eyes shut. “Slow down, I-I – let me process this for s s-second. I don’t understand what the fuck is going on right now, so j-just give me a minute.” Seonghwa extends a hand to you, but the action only causes a surge of fear to shoot through you.

“Don’t open up to anyone.”

“Don’t reveal your identity to anyone.”

“Hide yourself.”

You swat his hand away as the words ring in your ears. Seonghwa backs up at your motions, brows knitting together tightly, and he begins to speak again, much slower this time.

“Can you please sit down with me so I can explain, Y/N?” Seonghwa’s voice is warm, inviting – safe – and you let your hand stretch out towards him again but with the intent to hold his. His lips twitch into a soft smile, and he slips his hand into yours. The contact is warm and soft. When his fingers intertwine yours, it’s like a wave of comfort washes over you and dispels the panic still rushing through you. He tugs you closer to the bed, climbing up on the mattress and bringing you with him. “I’ll answer any of your questions as best I can. I – I didn’t tell you sooner because I didn’t want to scare you o-or… I don’t know. There’s no proper excuse for it, so I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

You fold your legs under you and stare at Seonghwa’s face for several seconds before even contemplating what to say.

“I don’t – I don’t know anything about any of this. I don’t know what the hell th-that Dreamscape you mentioned is, I don’t know what it means to be a Siren, I never learned any of this shit. I only know that I’m a Siren a-and I have some sort of abilities, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know why I’m a Siren, I don’t know why I have to hide myself, I don’t know any of this shit. I only know that I’m a Siren because the old man in my dreams told me that when I was fourteen. I don’t remember anything before that, I don’t know who I was or what I was, I don’t know if I knew what it means to be a Siren before joining the military, because all those memories are gone now. I j-just don’t understand any of this, and I hate it. I hate not knowing, I hate feeling so fucking confused all the time, and I don’t know what this means or how I’m supposed to feel about any of this. All I’m feeling right now is fucking panic because I’ve been told for the past seven years that no one can fucking know what I am or I’ll f-fucking die, or some shit like that and–”

Seonghwa stills you, placing a hand over your forearm and gripping you so tight that you nearly wince.

“Y/N, try to take deep breaths. It’s okay to be panicked and confused, but you have to breathe, or you’ll start hyperventilating. Okay?” You nod a few times, lips parted as you listen to him. “Okay, just breathe with me for a bit. You’re okay.” His thumb traces small circles over the skin of your forearm as he imitates deep breaths for you. You follow the movements, eyes lingering on the rise and fall of his chest. It works like a charm really – between the methodical touch on your arm and the deep breathing, Seonghwa manages to calm you enough to have coherent thoughts again.

Seonghwa is a Siren. Your brain can only produce that thought over and over again like it’s a mantra. As you calm down more, your thoughts start to drift and expand. If Seonghwa was lying about being an Elitist, how many of the others are lying about their identities too? Are the military records even correct? Hongjoong never said how many Sirens he had found already. He never specified whether he had found any or not, just that he was hunting them. Why? What’s he hiding? Is he hiding something?

“Okay, I can start explaining what I know if you’re ready,” Seonghwa says, cutting through your thoughts with ease. You blink up at him and nod a few times. “I’ll start with the Dreamscape. Um, it’s how Sirens are connected. The spirit of the Dreamscape guides Sirens to each other if they’re in the Dreamscape at the same time, which only happens if both are asleep.”

“I-Is that – is that Daichi? The old man?”

“Yes, yes. That’s him. He’s the spirit of the Dreamscape, and he only exists in that space.” Seonghwa takes a breath, and you use it as an opportunity to speak again, a question on your lips.

“When… when I first got on the ship, he warned me – um, he told me to avoid nearby danger. That someone close to me is a dangerous threat, one I’ve not encountered before. Why would he tell me that if he’s supposed to be guiding me to other Sirens?” Seonghwa’s lips draw together, and he shakes his head a few times.

“Daichi wasn’t talking about me. He told me the same thing at one point, but I still haven’t figured out what he meant by that. It was long before you arrived on the ship though, so it can’t have been you. His goal – the spirit of the Dreamscape – his purpose is to guide Sirens to each other in the Dreamscape. For you or me, whenever a Siren is nearby, they go to the Dreamscape together and can meet each other in dreams. Through the Dreamscape, they can learn about each other and know what the other is feeling. Let’s say we were in there together, and I felt happy. You would feel that happiness too, even if you don’t know that I’m there. It’s called a Siren’s Intuition in the real world, where a Siren can sense another’s distress and provide comfort. A sixth sense almost. You have that intuition in both the real world and in the Dreamscape, but the emotions and comfort provided through the Dreamscape is considered to be far more potent and effective than real-world comfort.”

“Is it… some sort of connection then?” You inquire, watching Seonghwa’s fingers continue to trail over your skin.

“Yes, it is. It’s not some sort of beacon or signal that tells you where to find a Siren though. It’s moreso feeling a pull towards someone. A red string of fate, whatever you want to call it.”

“H-hold on, I’m confused. If two Sirens are near each other and asleep, they can visit this Dreamscape together?”

“Yes. A black lake with a forest around it and a red moon in the sky. Ring a bell?”

A dark night sky looms above you with its scattering of bright stars. Near the center of the indigo sea lies a brilliant red moon; bright in it’s blinding color. Something about the scene is familiar, the clearness of the sky reminds you of something from your past. No clouds, no breeze, no sounds of nightlife.

“Y-yeah, I know it. Um, so when we slept next to each other in Echidna, you saw me in the water?” Seonghwa nods in response, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “Why did I not see you sooner? Surely we would have been asleep at the same time before that?”

“Hold on. Let me get something.” Seonghwa pulls away from you, and you find yourself missing the warmth of his touch the second he leaves. He climbs off the bed, moving for a bookshelf along the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. His long fingers trail over each spine along the shelves, and he doesn’t stop until he’s collected three books from the shelf. He brings them back to the bed, placing them in the space between the two of you. You eye his hand as it lingers near your knee. The urge to grab hold of it is very present, but you swallow that desire back and try to focus on his voice instead. “These books explain how the Dreamscape works far better than I could. In general though, you have to be in close proximity with a Siren in order to visit the Dreamscape with them. The exact range of this proximity is confusing and unknown. Sometimes you can both be in the Dreamscape but not see each other. It’s a vastly enormous place, and the forest stretches on and on. When I visit, I’m typically alone, so I’ve spent lots of time just running through the forest as far as I can. Back to the books though. Uh, I used these to learn about Sirens. I didn’t have anyone to teach me while growing up, and like you, I only knew what I was because someone told me. Hongjoong has some books on Sirens as well, so if you want more, you could go to him and ask for them.”

“No, no, no. Absolutely not,” you refute immediately. Seonghwa tilts his head to the side at your quick refusal.

“Why not?”

“H-He can’t know. He can’t know that I’m – I’m a Siren. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, and I still don’t know what he intends to do with Sirens when he gets them. I also j-just need time to process the fact that you’re a Siren and that this is even happening because I have always been told to hide myself and not trust anyone.”

Seonghwa’s throat bobs as he swallows roughly, and he maintains his intense stare on you. You find yourself swallowing around nothing as well.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through over the past seven years, Y/N, but I do understand your fears. I was told the same while growing up, told that in real life and in my dreams. Up until I joined the crew. It stopped then, and I know it may not have stopped for you, but I can promise you that Hongjoong does not intend to do anything bad to Sirens. He doesn’t care about killing Sirens or hurting them.”

Suddenly you’re back at the dingy hotel bar in Echidna with the platinum-haired captain beside you, nursing a drink and talking about his intentions and goals.

“It is said that five Sirens together can unlock one of the universe’s most secret and valuable treasures, although no man has ever laid eyes on it or lived to tell anyone where the treasure might be. I want it for myself. I want to find it and be the person who lives to tell the tale.”

Seonghwa continues speaking, and you have to shake yourself out of the memory to focus on what he’s saying.

“You’ve seen what Hongjoong will do to protect his crew. You are part of that crew, Y/N. He will protect you, no matter what. You are not an exception.”

“Because he needs me. He will protect me because he needs me, not because he wants to or cares.”

“He cares about his crew more than anything else.”

“And what would he choose if it came down to choosing his crew or this treasure he’s after? What then?”

“I… I would hope that Hongjoong would choose the crew, but I simply don’t know.” Seonghwa’s voice turns quiet, a hint of frailty in it that has your stomach churning. You let out a scoff.

“That’s not encouragement to tell him what I am.”

Seonghwa’s hand moves from the bed to find yours again. Your breath hitches at the sudden touch, his fingers slipping between yours, and he lifts his chin to look you in the eye.

“What are you afraid of, Y/N? The last time you lost someone, was it because you are a Siren?”

“N-No,” you stammer, shaking your head a little.

“I know that you don’t trust Hongjoong. I want you to trust him, and I wish that I could help you do that, but you have to be the person who tells him that you’re a Siren. You need to take that step and trust him with that when you’re ready.”

“I-I trust you, though.” Seonghwa releases a dry laugh and looks off to the side.

“That doesn’t mean that I should be the person to tell Hongjoong what you are. So, I promise you – swear on my life actually – that I will not tell Hongjoong about you being a Siren.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I – thank you.”

Seonghwa offers a small smile, his thumb dragging over the back of your hand, and the overwhelming warmth of his actions hits you square in the chest. The flames on his back suddenly make so much sense. Perhaps that’s why everything about him feels so hot and burning, and maybe the only reason you feel so comfortable with him is because he’s been a Siren all this time. It raises another question in your mind, and this time, you aren’t as shy about voicing it.

“Have you ever known another Siren?”

“I have, yeah. Only one.”

“One of your parents?” You ask, and Seonghwa’s thumb pauses in its motions.

“No, my mother is a Normie, and my father was an Elitist, but I didn’t know him at all. I was the mutation. Got the gene from my maternal grandfather.”

“Mutation,” you echo. “What do you mean by mutation?”

“Sirens can only be born if someone in their bloodline was a Siren. It has to be one of your grandparents though, through second-degree heredity. The gene mutation in a Siren always skips a generation.”

“So… logically, that would mean that it’s possible for there to be more Sirens out there then. More than five, that is.”

“Yes, it’s possible if generations have been skipped.”

“Then why do they say there’s only five left then?”

“There was some mistranslation in some books several years ago. People starting to think that the legends about five Sirens unlocking a treasure meant there were only five left in the universe. It only built up this urgency to get to the treasure with the Sirens or just to have a Siren as a slave to keep others from getting them. The home planet of the Siren race has been ravaged by slavers for so many years that there supposedly aren’t any left.”

“So Hongjoong just wants the treasure. That’s all it’s about to him? Getting some damn treasure?” You aren’t sure where the sudden bout of anger comes from, maybe the idea that if Hongjoong knew what you are, you would be reduced to nothing but a key to some damn treasure. Seonghwa’s lips purse then turn into a delicate frown.

“He puts up a front. There are two reasons why this is so important and crucial to Hongjoong. One that he’s had long before I met him, the other that came about a year and a half ago. It’s not just about the treasure though, even if it seems like it. Whatever he told you about his intentions was most likely a lie. I like to think that I know Hongjoong better than anyone else, and I know that this is important to him in ways that even I couldn’t understand.” Seonghwa’s expression turns melancholy in an instant. The shift happens so quickly that it could give you whiplash, and it seems so out of place compared to what he said.

Silence drapes over the two of you as Seonghwa loses himself further in thought. You don’t know how much time passes, but you don’t want to disturb him, so you just sit tight with your hand still in his. When he finally pulls himself out of thought, he shakes his head and looks up at you.

“Um, the books. You can take them. If you have any questions about them, you can ask me. I’ve read them probably hundreds of times by now, and I always have more if you need them. I need to go sign some papers for Hongjoong, if you’ll be alright on your own.” Seonghwa pushes the books closer to you, but his hand doesn’t leave yours quite yet.

“I think I’ll manage,” you mutter, letting a small smile come to your lips. “Even though you did quite a number on me.”

“I gave you worse when we sparred,” Seonghwa teases, mimicking your smile. His gaze slips from your face down to where your collarbone peeks out, fully exposed thanks to his shirt fitting loosely on your frame. You know what he’s looking at, and a slight flush rises on his cheeks as you catch him staring. “Well, maybe you’re right. I should’ve done worse though.”

You shake your head, refusing to let him have the pleasure of seeing you flustered, and release his hand to pick up the books instead.

“Before you go, Y/N…” Seonghwa calls out. He gets off the bed with you, suddenly towering over you so much that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. “I’m sure you already know, but it’s best if the others don’t know about either of us being a Siren. Hongjoong is the only exception for that.”

“Why?”

“The less people that know means less of a possibility for suspicion. Suppose you’re suddenly going outside the ship with four people around you trying to protect you from harm. In that case, people will notice that you’re someone special. Pirates have a knack for going after special things. Too many people want a Siren, and too many people would go to drastic measures to get one.”

Seonghwa lifts a hand. He seems to want to push the few loose strands of hair away from your face, but he stops himself at the last second and forces a smile instead.

“Let’s keep you safe, yeah?”

…

“Good morning, Yunho,” you greet as you step out of your bedroom to find the healer waiting for you on the other side. It’s nothing out of the ordinary or weird; he makes a habit of meeting you before breakfast so you can walk to the mess hall together, and he claims that it’s also an effort to make sure you actually eat throughout the day. He falls into step beside you as you start to walk down the corridor, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Good morning, Y/N! Sleep alright?” He tilts his head to the side, and you mimic his motions, shrugging your shirt further up. The marks Seonghwa left are far darker this morning, much more noticeable than you anticipated, and the damn shirt keeps sliding down with even the slightest movements. If Yunho notices your awkward shifting, he decides not to comment on it.

“Yeah, I slept well. The medicine helped a lot.”

“I was moreso talking about the hickeys on your neck, but that’s great news too!”

Your heart plummets to your ankles, and Yunho merely grins at you without a care in the world. You duck your head and try to avoid his stare.

“Was it good? Were you safe? Careful? Talk about limits and what’s on or off the table? Sober in the very least?”

“Oh my – Yunho, don’t ask about it,” you plea. Your whole body burns with embarrassment. If Yunho noticed that easily, then there’s no chance you can hide it from anyone else, so you can just hope that the mess hall is empty this morning.

“I am asking as your doctor. I need to make sure that you aren’t doing anything stupid. Did you use protection?”

You press your lips into a thin line and glance over at Yunho. He stares back in silence for a few moments. Then –

“Y/N!” He gasps, smacking your bicep with the backside of his hand. “Do I need to give you basic sex education? Why didn’t you use protection? I know all the crew members are clean, but oh my god, what were you thinking? What was he thinking? I make sure that everyone has protection just in case so why the hell didn’t he use it? Who was it? I’m gonna yell at him.”

“Yunho, please, this is so embarrassing.”

“You’re the one who fucked someone without protection!”

“Could you not scream that maybe?” You press your hands over your face as Yunho’s tone grows louder and louder. You didn’t think it was possible to feel any more embarrassed than you do already, but Yunho is swiftly proving you wrong with each passing second. “I’m clean, and it’s not like I can get pregnant anyway, so it’s really not a big issue. I was sterilized a long time ago.”

“Sterilized? What do you mean?” Yunho’s tone losing all of its teasing nature in an instant. It makes you regret saying anything, especially with the intensity of his stare that won’t leave you. You huff a sigh before elaborating further.

“The military tied my tubes when I turned sixteen. They do it to every female.”

“Not the males as well?”

“They don’t care about men because men don’t get pregnant.” You shrug, more than used to the way the military views and handles their soldiers, but Yunho’s sigh is nothing short of furious. “They can’t have their soldiers getting pregnant, so that’s why they do it. It doesn’t matter if their soldiers get someone else pregnant, because it won’t be their problem. And they need their female soldiers to be able to sleep with anyone on the job without the risk of getting pregnant.”

“That’s awful,” Yunho mutters through a frown.

“I’m okay with it. I’m not someone who wants to get pregnant or have children anyway. My lifestyle simply isn’t suited for it.”

“You still should’ve been given a damn choice,” Yunho hisses. Even though you know that his anger isn’t directed at you, you tense upon hearing his harsh tone. “It’s your body and your life, not the military’s. They don’t own you. The military really has no fucking morals, and neither do whatever doctors operated on you. A good doctor does not operate on any patient without having explicit permission from the patient unless it’s a matter of life or death. But that? You can’t just take away a person’s choice like that.”

“They took a lot of my choices away, Yunho.”

“Does that make it okay?”

You don’t have a response, and it’s good timing at that because you step into the mess hall. It isn’t empty as you had hoped it would be; Jongho and San sit at one of the tables. You want to curl up into a ball and die, but Yunho places a hand on your back and forces you forward until the two of you reach the edge of the table. Jongho slides closer to San, making room for you to sit down beside him, and you slowly lower yourself to the bench. You tug the collar of your shirt further up but can’t know whether you’ve actually hidden the marks or not. Yunho plops down next to you. He’s back to wearing a smile, but it’s strained and uncomfortable to look at, so the information you shared with him obviously upset him quite a bit.

“Where is everyone? It’s never this quiet in the mornings.”

“Wooyoung is still asleep. Yeosang’s in the training room. No clue where Mingi is, though he’s probably with Hongjoong,” San explains, picking mindlessly at the plate of food in front of him. “Jongho made breakfast this morning, so… be careful.”

“Be careful? The fuck are you saying – I am a great cook!” Jongho crosses his arms over his chest, lips furled into a deep frown, and San avoids his glare by smiling over at you. You return the smile immediately.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say good morning, San’s gaze flits lower. The sudden deadpan of his features tells you that you most definitely did not properly hide the hickeys. He swallows roughly and returns to pushing his food around the plate. Jongho notices the shift in his mood, turning to glance at you as you tug the collar of your shirt up to your chin. The air at the table has just grown exponentially more awkward, even Yunho pauses to take note of the tension. He narrows his eyes at San then back at you, flipping between the two of you several times before a bout of realization seems to hit him and his eyes grow wide.

“Well, this is fucking awkward,” Jongho remarks through a deep sigh. You twist to smack your fist against his chest.

“You just made it awkward by saying that!” You hiss through gritted teeth.

“Oh shit, we forgot to get our food!” Yunho cuts in, a nervous laugh echoing his remark, and he snags you by the sleeve as he gets up again. You let him pull you along until you’ve reached the buffet bar where Jongho has set out breakfast, then tug your sleeve out of his grip. “Who the fuck did you sleep with?”

You knew the question was coming, but you still aren’t ready for the confrontation. You dodge Yunho’s prying eyes.

“Was it Seonghwa?”

No response.

“Oh my god, it was Seonghwa.” Yunho pulls away from you, mouth agape as he gauges your reaction. Again heat creeps up your neck.

“Shut up and keep quiet,” you mutter. “I don’t want everybody on the fucking ship to know.”

Yunho lifts a brow. He’s biting his lips to keep from smiling, and his thinly veiled attempts to do so are useless because you can see the laughter in his eyes already. He twists, grabbing an apple from the counter rather than anything Jongho made, then tosses the fruit over to you. He keeps his hand up and points at the start of the trail of marks on your neck.

“That was planned. Calculated. Intentional. Clear as day. He definitely put that where someone would see it.” Yunho shakes his head as he grabs another apple, this time for himself. “Damn, so the lieutenant likes marking and is possessive then, huh? Not bad.”

“Just – Yunho, I can’t stand you. Please just keep quiet.”

“Hey! Let me be fascinated by this new information because Lieutenant Stick-Up-His-Ass actually let loose enough to fuck around. That’s practically ground-breaking.”

“I’m just going to keep my mouth shut and hope that you stop talking,” you grumble out, turning to walk back to the table. Your appetite has certainly gone out the window, but you carry the apple with you anyway. If anything, it gives you something to dig your nails into as Yunho continues talking.

“Listen, sex can be great for stress!”

“What the fuck?” Jongho asks, Yunho’s words carrying over the table as you plop back to the bench.

“Shush, Jongho. I’m telling her about the importance of sex – safe sex – as a stress reliever. We’ve all had this talk before.”

“Jongho might need to know how sex works first, Yunho,” San remarks. He cracks a smile and swings an elbow into Jongho’s side. For a moment, you think that his discomfort with seeing the hickeys on your neck is completely gone. Jongho throws an elbow back at San.

“I know how it fucking works!”

“I hate it here,” you mutter as you try to hide your face in your arms.

“Maybe next time we’re off the ship, you could think about mingling for a night, Jongho!” Yunho’s tone is far too cheery. He seems to be having the time of his life while you’re barely managing not to die from embarrassment. “Sex is great for health. The hormones and chemicals that are released during sex can temporarily reduce symptoms of stress and anxiety. It makes you happier and can take your mind off other things. If you hit it pretty hard and go a few rounds, it can be good exercise for your body. And! Sex helps you sleep better at night. So look at that? Benefits left and right.”

San’s clear and high-pitched laughter resounds through the room, and you push your face further against the table.

“Did I hate it here already?” You mutter, voice barely audible over San’s laugh.

“I do too. I wanna leave,” Jongho sighs.

“Hey, stop that, you two! I am doing my job as a doctor and providing options for stress relief, so you don’t keep running out and getting hurt. You could be doing something much safer that doesn’t involve guns or knives. And if anyone ever needs any sort of protection, you guys know that I’ve got plenty in the med bay if you run out. I have options too to suit all sizes.”

You glance up only to scowl at Yunho, and your scowl turns into a full-blown grimace when you notice that he’s making lewd gestures.

“Stop making hand motions when you say shit like that.”

“I use my hands when I talk! How can you tell me to not use my hands?”

“That’s a joke waiting to happen,” Jongho comments. You sit up fully to send a glare his way now, a warning to not make said joke, and Jongho deftly dodges your stare. Everyone has decided to have impeccable timing today, it seems, because as you look at Jongho, you catch sight of Hongjoong and Seonghwa stepping into the mess hall. Mingi walks a little ways behind them, looming over Hongjoong’s shoulder like a tall shadow.

“You can stop talking, Yunho. In fact, you probably should stop talking,” you mutter, slapping Yunho’s arm.

“I can’t believe you. I am just trying to be a good doctor and give good advice, and this is the treatment I get. No respect. None!”

“What are we talking about?” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through Yunho’s, and you all snap your chins up to look at the captain as he comes closer to the table.

“Just sex,” Yunho replies, waving a hand through the air as though it’s totally casual. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide, and he snaps his mouth shut while Seonghwa chokes on air.

“Nevermind, I would actually rather not know. Changed my mind. We have more important things to talk about anyway.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“Seonghwa mentioned that you’re feeling antsy about being cooped up on the ship. The two of us have meetings with some business partners and other captains for the next five or so days. If anyone wants to leave the ship and spend time on the planet over the next few days, they’re more than welcome to. You know the drill on what to do while out there already, but you’ve all earned some time off.” Hongjoong glances down at Yunho. A soft smile paints his lips, a moment of gentleness that you rarely see in the cruel captain, and Yunho blinks back with his mouth agape.

“T-Thank you, Captain,” he stutters back after a moment of silence. Hongjoong shakes his head and drops a hand to Yunho’s shoulder. There’s an unspoken exchange there, no words needed, and when Hongjoong pulls back, Yunho has a smile stretched over his lips.

“Jongho, I’ve got something for you and Mingi, if you have a minute,” Hongjoong says. Jongho nods and stands up, patting your back a little as he goes, and suddenly you’re left with just San and Yunho. You didn’t even see Seonghwa slip away, but it’s probably for the best that you didn’t because you don’t think you could look him in the eye out of sheer embarrassment.

A Siren. Just like you.

Then there’s that, which is significantly less awkward and shouldn’t change anything between the two of you. You tried to read through one of the books he gave you last night, and while it did explain the whole bloodline and gene mutation part, you didn’t learn much that Seonghwa hadn’t told you when you spoke. Perhaps the little nagging part in the back of your mind just wants to sit and listen to Seonghwa explain it all instead.

“Do you two want to come with me to town? I’m itching to get off the ship.” Yunho turns to you, glancing over at San out the corner of his eye as he speaks.

“Sure, I’m already dressed to go now, if you two are,” San responds, sitting up straight and pushing his tray of food further towards the center of the table. “We really need to get a better cook or teach Jongho how to properly cook.”

“Eh, I mean, it looks half-burnt. Better than fully burnt, right?” Yunho eyes the food with a grimace on his face. He’s being kind at best when he says it’s only half-burnt, because it definitely looks wholly burnt to you. “What about you, Y/N? You down?”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” you relent with a shaky sigh.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Yunho and San will be there. They’ll keep you safe. It’s only a small town. The military isn’t here. It is going to be just fine.

Your confidence about going outside the ship is dropping by the second, especially as the three of you start walking towards the main airlock. You can’t shake the overwhelming tsunami of anxiety that hits you all at once. Yunho grabs hold of your sleeve and tugs you back a little. San continues to walk on even when you and Yunho slow your pace.

“I’m happy you decided to come along, Y/N,” Yunho says, a soft smile playing at his lips. “This is a huge step so, I’m proud. You’re doing well.”

I’m proud.

You’re doing well.

It doesn’t provide the comfort that Yunho is aiming for, but you don’t want him to feel bad about it, so you plaster a smile across your lips.

“For now, I just want you to try relaxing and enjoying yourself as best you can.”

“I’ll try,” you reply. Yunho beams back at you. The sight of his smile provides far more comfort than his words did. You watch him jog to catch up with San and sling an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, a laugh bursting through his lips. Too much is happening all at once, but it finally hits you that maybe sleeping with Seonghwa the first time wasn’t the best idea. You already knew that, but it really smacks you in the chest with the force of a typhoon now because as you look at San’s back, all you can envision is the conflicted expression that crossed his features when he saw the marks along your neck.

Needless to say, you don’t pay attention to the town or Yunho once you finally get there. You most certainly are not relaxing or enjoying yourself, because thoughts of San consume you. You can admit that the scenery of the small town is nice and quaint. No guards or military in sight either, which provides a tremendous amount of relief, but every passing glance causes anxiety to bubble in your gut more and more. Yunho carries on without a care in the world, flitting from stall to stall and looking at everything under the sun. San humors him a bit by commenting on some of the things Yunho picks up, but after a while, San falls into step with you and walks beside you in silence. Even like this, it’s quite obvious that the two of you are holding each other at arm’s length and refusing to commit to anything. That bothers you more than it should.

With Seonghwa, everything seems to flow and go smoothly. From the minute you met, it’s been that way. Perhaps it can all be boiled down to the fact that you’re both Sirens, and that is what makes your relationship feel so comfortable and simple. But with San, you can’t catch a break. You know you are primarily at fault for that, because it’s your decisions that have caused this heightened awkwardness right now. More than that though, it’s so difficult to get past your head with San. You know he’s in the same predicament himself.

San is the one who breaks the silence between the two of you. He waits until you’ve made a resting spot of a random bench that looks out into the town’s square. Yunho is still in sight; he wanders around with wide eyes and a smile, perfectly content on his own as he talks to the townspeople. San shifts beside you but maintains the awkward distance between your bodies on the bench.

“Y-You shouldn’t… uh, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or awkward about sleeping with anyone.”

Of course, he had to start a conversation there. You squeeze your eyes shut. San’s gaze is on you – the sheer intensity of it practically burns your skin – but you can’t bring yourself to look back.

“It’s perfectly natural, and something that used to happen on a daily basis back when the crew was bigger.” Except, San’s tone won’t commit. He’s holding back, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible when you both know that he doesn’t truly think it’s okay.

“I’m sorry,” you spit out without any further hesitation. You snap your eyes open and look over at San. His lips are parted in shock, tongue dragging over the corner of his lips before he recovers and closes his mouth again. You continue. “I know that I was looking for some way to cope with what happened in Echidna b-but that doesn’t mean I should’ve done that or asked him to do that. I – uh, I feel guilty for leading you on in a way. I shouldn’t have done that.”

San forces a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, and seeing that is almost worse than the deadpan look he gave you earlier.

“I have no expectations when it comes to you, Y/N,” he whispers, tone hardly audible over the din of the town. “I know what we are and what we aren’t. And I know that in the long run, I wouldn’t be good for you. I’m hardly good for you short term as it is.”

You dart a hand out to grab his wrist, fingers closing around the skin. San inhales sharply and looks down at your hand.

“That’s not true, San.” He shakes his head even as you speak.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty, and I don’t want to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong. In my eyes, you haven’t. If I could go back in time, I would prevent that kiss. At the moment, it felt nice, and I thought it’s what I wanted and needed. But it was something else. I know it isn’t what you intended for it to be, but I meant for it to be a goodbye kiss. Even though I didn’t deserve it, I thought I could be selfish and take that much.”

“A goodbye kiss?” You echo. The pit in your stomach grows larger by the second. “What do you mean by goodbye, San?”

“I don’t want to be a downer on our day off,” he says as he tugs his wrist away from you.

“San.” He dares to look over at you. “San, when you went to the warehouse,… was your intention to d-die?”

The soft-sided and melancholy smile that blossoms over his lips is one that will haunt you.

“I was at peace with it because I thought it was the only way out of the guilt and the pain. And then – then you showed up, then you were in a chair across from me, and I couldn’t let you die. I couldn’t die because you were there. Because I needed to protect you and save you. I didn’t want to tell you when we talked about it the first time because I felt – felt like a failure and weak for thinking that that was my only option. Like I manipulated you in some way or made you pity me for what I went through. And that the only reason you opened up to me or kissed me was because I tricked you into doing so. Even admitting it now, it feels like some sort of emotional manipulation. Before you say anything, I know it’s not. My brain just won’t let me accept it. I’m working through it with Yunho; I see Yunho every day, and we talk about how I’m feeling. But… I feel bad for leaving things awkward between us, I don’t want to drag you down or slow whatever progress you have by not being able to progress myself. So when I say that you shouldn’t feel guilty for sleeping with someone, I mean it. I was never expecting anything beyond a goodbye kiss, yet you let me live. We both have things to work through, but because of what we went through together, we can’t work through it together. At least not right now. I really don’t have any expectations of you. I just have a lot for himself.”

“I…” Your voice dies too soon, and even though you know what you want to say, it’s so difficult to get it out. You blink at the street under your feet, taking a deep heave of air before trying to speak again. “Not once did I ever feel like you were manipulating me. I never pitied you for what you went through. You didn’t trick me into doing or saying anything. It was all by choice, and it was all my choice. I see myself in you really. And now that Cara is dead, I’m afraid to face you because I’m afraid to see you become the person that I became. Maybe somehow, I think that just by being near you, I’ll turn you into who I am now. I-I hate myself so much that it hurts to think about you becoming that or seeing yourself that way. If I can’t save myself, then I at least want to save you. I’ve lost too many people to lose you too. And some part of me thinks that if I push you away, it’ll do some good or do something to save you.”

San releases a dry laugh, head thrown back, and he blinks up at the cloudy grey sky above your heads.

“We really are the same,” he murmurs. He tilts his head and looks you in the eye. You still completely under his stare. “It may be selfish, but I don’t want you to push me away. I would rather be hurt and still have you in my life rather than to be perfectly fine without you.”

✧✧✧ a/n: hI im here oasdmfaisgjiogj geez this one took longer than expect mostly bc the outline was longer than expected and aaaaaaaa im not as confident in this one as i usually am but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless ;-;

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The One with the Motorcycle

@wrightfamilyweek day 4 - Free day! Which I took to mean 'shove my headcanon here'. At first I wanted to do something with Ryuunosuke, but I still haven't finished tgaa so uhhhh sorry my boy. Also, you can find this on AO3 here.

In which Trucy and Phoenix decide they need to find a more reliable method of getting around. Luckily, Phoenix already has a vehicle registered under his name.

oOo

“Does this mean that when I turn sixteen, I’ll get a motorcycle license?”

Trucy skips alongside her Daddy as they walk through the aisles of the storage facility. They pass locked garage after garage. Trucy has always known that her Daddy had somewhere he stores a bunch of stuff that doesn’t fit in the office, the stuff he used to keep in his apartment back when he had one, but this is her first time coming along with him.

There’s been a lot leading up to this. Now that Trucy’s getting a little older, there’s more things she wants to do, or go to, and Daddy seems to be getting a little busier too. He’s started going down to the library more often, and having some kind of meetings for lunch, and getting calls by people Trucy doesn’t know. They’re both getting busy, and buses and taxis only get them so far. Daddy had declared, in an almost resigned-sounding voice after they missed a bus and had to wait underneath the bus stop in the pouring rain for another thirty minutes, that perhaps it was time to find a more reliable method to get around.

“Dessie says she’s running a little late, but she’ll be here soon.” Trucy is in charge of the phone while Daddy frets over the pieces of paper in his hands, crinkling the edges up in his nervous hands.

Daddy doesn’t reply to this either, just keeps walking forward. Trucy frowns to herself. Daddy’s been kind of weird about this whole thing. From getting the Learner’s Permit, to the practice drives and lessons with Desiree, to his final test, but now if anything he seems at his most awkward and strange as they approach the storage unit.

They final come to a stop, and Daddy pulls up the metal door.

If old case files in the office were little glimpses into who Daddy was before Trucy knew him, this place was an in-color photograph.

There’s cardboard boxes with ‘sketchbooks’ scrawled on the front. There’s a dead plant in the corner. There’s a stack of picture frames, an old couch shoved into a corner, and a small wood table with rings from the ghosts of old drinks, a few splashes of paint marring the surface. There’s some art supplies shoved off in a corner that Trucy immediately goes over to, and piles of books Trucy hasn’t read before, and Trucy wants nothing more than to stay here all day and look through everything and anything in sight.

In the middle of the storage unit, however, is what they’ve come here for.

It’s a lilac-colored motorcycle. There’s an unhealthy-layer of dust on it - there’s a layer of dust on everything in the room - and Daddy brushes his hand over the seat and handles, sending a plume of the dust into the air. He starts sneezing and coughing over it and Trucy laughs a little at that. She stops in a moment, though, because of the almost-grim look on Daddy’s face as he stares at the bike.

They’ve been building up to this for months, in reality. Trucy realizes this now, that everything up to this point has been to get this motorcycle out of the garage and back onto the streets, because it was a vehicle Daddy already owns, and he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle nor money involved in getting a new one. But it’s also all conflicted with Daddy’s attempts to distance himself from the past.

Daddy wants to move forward in life, she gets that, but it makes Trucy sad anyway to see how nervous and resigned he’d looked about so much as calling the Delites for help. Like doing that much is losing something.

“So this is Aunt Mia’s bike?” Trucy asks, going over to it as well. She doesn’t know anything about things like this, but it looks like it’s in okay condition. It’s certainly not as shiny as Desiree’s, but it’s not bad.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t by.” He says, and she can tell he’s not talking to her. His eyes are fixed on the bike like sometimes he’ll stare at Charley for what seems like hours on end; it’s never for that long, but it feels like it might be at times. He tilts her head to Trucy and explains, “I used to come by and try to keep it clean and stuff, but things have gotten… complicated. I’m sure Mia’s upset I haven’t done more to maintain this since she’s been gone.”

Ah, it’s one of the days where he’s talking about Aunt Mia in the present tense. It’s hard to tell if that’s ever a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it’s just A Thing he does sometimes. Even after four years, there’s still so much Trucy hasn’t figured out about her daddy. Sometimes, he talks about Aunt Mia as the dead person she is, gone and out of this world, a deceased but loved person, just like Trucy’s mommy was talked about. Other days, though, it’s like he expects Aunt Mia to walk through the door any minute.

“Alright, well, let’s see what we can do before Desiree gets here.”

Daddy’s temporary license, the edges of which are almost torn up by his worrying hands, is set aside on top of the sketchbook box and he grabs a towel from one of the other boxes, setting to work on a more thorough dusting. Trucy searches through Daddy’s phone for the list of what to check for that Desiree had texted him and passes it over to Daddy.

Trucy picks a stool out from the mess of things and rifles through the sketchbook box, finding one and flipping through it. There’s mostly little doodles and the like on the pages, or realistic portraits of faces Trucy doesn’t recognize. She wonders if, were Daddy not so determined to distance himself from the past, she’d know any of them. There is a picture of Miles, and she knows him, so she smiles at that picture and lightly brushes her hand over the pencil markings. Miles looks really angry in the picture, and scribbled right next to him is ‘I’ll save you’.

And Daddy did.

“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with today!”

Desiree announces herself, carrying her own box of tools

“Thought you might not show up for a moment.” Daddy jokes, but it’s one of his hollow-sounding jokes. Desiree laughs anyway.

“Oh please, I’ve been waiting to get a look at this beast for myself ever since you told me about it!” Desiree says and starts going over the bike. She talks about oil and gas and spark plugs and batteries, looking over everything and digging through her stuff and checking things. She says they’re going to need a new battery, and definitely replace just about all of the fluids. Luckily, Desiree is well-capable of doing all of that, she assures them, and they’d be able to get it up and moving enough to get it to her shop where she could do some of the rougher things to do.

“How much do I owe you?” Daddy asks, and Desiree waves her hand.

“We can discuss that later, let’s focus on getting this beauty out of this dusty-old place and back here she belongs, huh?”

Desiree has said that every time, so far, that Daddy asks about price. Trucy can see that it means Desiree doesn’t really want to make Daddy pay for any of it, but it seems to put Daddy more and more on edge every time Desiree says it. He’s waiting for something bad to happen, and his tension over it bleeds into Trucy, even though she’s not worried. Desiree is a nice lady who likes to chat to Trucy and can talk a mile a minute about motorcycles. When she’s not talking about them, she’s talking about her husband, Ron

They walk the bike out of the storage facility, Desiree filling the space with chatter about what the make and model of Aunt Mia’s motorcycle is, and the pluses and minuses of it, and how it’s lucky that it already has a backseat for Trucy. Daddy says that he used to ride with Aunt Mia sometimes, eyes trained on the bike still, as if he expected it to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

Desiree’s red-hot bike is parked out front and she tells them to meet her at her shop. She’ll be able to finish up there, where the rest of her supplies is.

“Don’t worry, she should be able to get you there just fine. And anyway, you can tell me if anything starts sounding worrying!” Desiree says as she climbs onto her bike. It’s been what Daddy has been practicing on, what Daddy even passed his driving test on just yesterday, and the rumble of it had just started to become familiar. Trucy feels like she’s going to miss it, but she’s excited to see how Aunt Mia’s bike works out.

Desiree peels out and leaves Daddy and Trucy standing on the side of the road, Daddy regarding Aunt Mia’s bike like it’s a python that’s going to bite them.

“... maybe this was a bad idea.” Daddy says five months too late.

“You worry too much! C’mon, Dessie’s waiting for us!” Trucy hops next to him, excited to get on the bike. Daddy sighs, turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Trucy has her own, bought a couple months ago, but she hasn’t been allowed on a bike yet. ‘Not until I get my official license’, Daddy had insisted. Now is the time, though.

“But what if something happens? What if I crash, and you get hurt?” He says. Trucy feels a ripple of shock run through her and she looks at Daddy’s face. His expression is grim and an open wound of his emotion. Of worry and fear, “What if I crash and I ruin her bike? What if-”

“Daddy, you’re being dumb” Trucy informs him. Daddy looks at her, and she can already see him starting to close off again, but she steals the last few moments of honesty she can, desperately, “Daddy you can do this, okay? We’re going to be okay. Even if we have to go five miles an hour to get there.”

“I think I’m actually worse at driving slow.” Daddy grumbles. Trucy grabs his hands.

“Then we’ll go really fast. We aren’t giving up on this just because you’re scared.”

Daddy sighs and then ruffles her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be stupid to give up right now. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take.”

They put their helmets on and climb onto the bike. They both hold their breaths when the engine first starts, and then it roars to life. It’s different than Desiree’s although exactly how, Trucy isn’t sure. She wraps her arms around her daddy’s stomach as they get going, keeping her eyes open. She isn’t scared, she can’t be. She needs to seem sure and trusting over this, for his sake, for their sake, so that they can make it through here together.

Things don’t change a lot with Daddy. They’ve lived in the same place for all this time, and Daddy’s worked at the same bar, and Trucy’s worked at the same bar, and they have the same routines day to week to month to year. This is new, this is change, but it’s a good thing.

They roar down the streets for the first time, Daddy is shaking, Trucy can feel it with how tightly she’s holding onto him. The air roars past them, chillingly-cold.

He did this for me, Trucy thinks, and then, no, he did this for us. For family, so that we can keep moving forwards .

If they had stood still, they would’ve been alright with buses and taxis and rides from friends. But they are moving forward in life, they need the ability to do more, be more independent, further their own things.

And help, here they had help, from Desiree, and from the thoughtfulness of Aunt Mia to leave Phoenix to her bike, and Ron had told Trucy before that Phoenix had helped them (Trucy had already known this, she’s read that case and every other case what feels like a thousand times over, her illicit self-read bedtime stories) and that they’d been wanting to do something for the man ever since they heard about The Disbarment.

It’s sort of funny, how independence and getting help seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Trucy and her Daddy roar down the streets, and her grip loosens as she gets more comfortable, and Daddy stops shaking so badly as he gets into his groove, because he’s done this before and has been training and practicing, and he knows how to ride a bike now, and Desiree has taught him how to maintain it, and now, now they are going towards a new normal, a new schedule, a second half of the darkest time of their lives (of course, Trucy doesn’t know this, and neither does her daddy, and now it seems like the shadows is simply where they will always be living) and they prepare to meet it together.

Because @jrob64 asked for another chapter and I can’t tell her no.

Midnight

Chapter 5 — The Pumpkin

Summary: In which our heroine really gets into it

Chapter 5 of 7 on AO3

“I had the craziest dream last night, yes I did.

I never dreamt it could be

Yet there you were, in love with me.”

-I Had the Craziest Dream, Harry James and His Orchestra and Helen Forrest

Emma may as well have been glued to his side. His hand was planted firmly on her hip, keeping her cradled next to him as he made the rounds like a seasoned politician. She should have been upset at his overbearing manner, forcing his way into her life and nearly ruining the biggest payday she was ever likely to see.

Instead, she curled into him and realized that instead of bacon, he carried the scent of cocoa with cinnamon. She wasn’t disappointed, though. Not even when he looked at her with a knowing glance after she took a long sniff at a particularly tempting patch of skin just above his collar.

She tried to tell herself it was simply because that was what a wife would do when reunited with her husband and she didn’t want to make a scene.

The party was winding down when the dreaded introduction to Lance happened. He stayed in the shadows, burning holes through her as she clung to the husband who was supposed to be on the other side of the Atlantic. Even from a distance, she could see the challenge in his stare. Instead of being discouraged, the other man was planning to fight his way into her affections.

She had hoped to bypass the whole thing, but Guinevere was determined since her other method of entertainment was spoiled, she was due a different kind. She stopped them with a bright smile and hard eyes as Killian was attempting to maneuver away from the breaking crowd. When Guin waved at someone behind them, Emma caught Arthur’s wandering gaze and silently summoned him to help. “Baron Jones, I’m so glad you’re able to join us for the weekend. Lancelot did his best to keep your wife company, but I’m sure he’s no replacement for you. Lance, do come over and meet the baron.”

With a rueful smile, Lance joined the group and nodded tightly at Killian. “Baron Jones, you’re the envy of every man here. You’re quite lucky in your choice of wife.”

“Oh, it wasn’t luck. Some said the Baroness would do anything for a piece of the pie, even take the name of a man she barely knows. But we both know the truth, don’t we, sweetheart? It was love at first sight.” His fingers moved further down her hip and she felt his body shake with contained laughter. He was enjoying her discomfort, growing bolder in his caresses with the knowledge they had an audience expecting her to be eager for his touch.

Arthur choked on the shrimp he had just eaten, breaking the tension and causing the posturing males to quit glaring at each other and Guin to abandon her machinations to thump her husband on the back. Arthur was too busy trying to breathe to notice his wayward wife had a look of true concern on her face as her pounding turned to a light caress while he regained his breath.

Calling a waiter over for a glass of water, Guin continued to rub Arthur’s back as she addressed Killian. “We’ll move you to a larger room where you will be more comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. The Baron and I are used to sleeping apart while one or the other of us are traveling and we don’t want to cause you any trouble. Tomorrow is soon enough,” Emma assured the woman even as Killian’s arm tightened around her. By then, she will have convinced him to leave quietly. She turned to him with adoring eyes and a smile that was all teeth. “Isn’t that right, Captain?”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble. It’s why we have staff,” Guin said before Killian could answer, her tone distracted. For once, Emma thought she wasn’t causing trouble on purpose. The woman’s attention was still on Arthur, whose face had yet to return to its normal color.

“Did you hear that, love? No trouble at all,” Killian echoed, his touch flittering lightly along the exposed skin of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He was wrong, of course. It was all kinds of trouble.

—

“What a wonderful room,” Killian observed, ushering her into the large group of rooms ahead of him. He hadn’t spoken two words to her since they entered the home with their hosts, focusing instead on debating the merits of Neoclassical versus Georgian architecture with Guin. The other woman was charmed, her expression warm and open as she hung on his every word, neither of them noticing their partners wore matching scowls.

“It’s the bridal suite. I’m so glad you approve, Baron Jones. It’s not often we get visitors of your stature in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Perfect. In many ways, this is like a honeymoon for us, isn’t it, darling?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, wondering how much longer he planned to play the part of doting husband. He remained in constant contact with her, his fingers gripping her elbow, his hand brushing her cheek or lingering at her waist. It made it impossible to think. Now they were in a bedroom, staring down a long night of complete isolation once the Soberanos left them to their own devices.

“Ahem, yes, my dear Baroness, there is a panic button on the end table. One push and it will wake the entire household,” Arthur explained, addressing Emma but giving Killian a look that threatened retribution for any shenanigans. She could tell the man was uncomfortable leaving her with him. His gaze kept seeking hers as if to get some reassurance she would be okay.

Guin reached out and swatted his arm. “Arthur, don’t scare the poor girl. We’ve never had any trouble here. You will be perfectly safe and I look forward to getting to know you both better over breakfast.”

Killian smiled as they walked out, shutting the door behind them. Walking over to the minibar, he commented, “Lovely couple. So glad you ran into them.”

His calm attempt at normalcy made her want to scream. So she did. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How did you find me? Why did you find me? What do you want?”

“Which one of those would you like me to tackle first, Swan?” His back was to her as he poured a drink. “Although after all the sleepless nights you caused me with your little runaway stunt and whatever the hell this charade is supposed to be, perhaps I deserve to have my questions answered first.”

He downed the rum in one gulp and turned back to face her. He looked hollow, his gaze searching for something, his hand outstretched before he thought better of it and ran it through his already wild hair. “Why did you run, love? I wasn’t going to hurt you. And what are we doing here?”

“I did it for your own good,” she insisted, moving to the other side of the room because the temptation to touch him was so strong she could taste it, along with the lingering flavor of his kiss. “As for why we’re here, I’m trying to start a new life. I have no idea what brought you to this neck of the woods.”

“I’m trying to do the same thing. But my version doesn’t involve false titles and cozying up to obnoxious cads.” He crossed the room in four quick strides and pulled her into his arms. “Why did you do it, Emma?”

If he had tried to push for more, she would have been able to resist. Maybe he knew that, or maybe he just always knew what she needed, so he simply held her. She couldn’t help but relax into it. The weight and stress of the last few days melted away as she listened to his steady heartbeat drumming under her cheek. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He chuckled, pressing a featherlight kiss on the top of her head. “Why did you pick my name when you don’t even seem happy to see me?”

“I am happy to see you, Captain. I…I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair when you’d been nothing but decent to me. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Door Number One once or twice since then.”

“You’re dodging the question, Swan. Or should I say Jones?”

“I know you want it to mean something, but it doesn’t. I needed a name and yours was the first that popped into my mind,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Why do you think mine was the one on the tip of your tongue, Swan?”

She was stubborn enough not to answer but not strong enough to pull away.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman who has been alone for a long time, even when she’s not. You muscle your way through life on grit and nerve because it’s the only way you know how to survive, and you crumble at the first hint of softness, not because you don’t crave it with every fiber of your being, but because you don’t trust it to be real. The only part I can’t figure out is how long it will take to admit to yourself you took my name because I mean something to you.”

“Captain…you need to leave.”

“You can’t run away from what started between us. You’ve tried repeatedly, but it’s useless. We’re right for each other; I know it deep down in my bones. Don’t you?” The soft kisses he brushed against her forehead made her feel like she was on fire. Warmth flooded her skin and pooled in all the places she wanted to feel his touch. “Do you really think love is easier in a place like this? Don’t be a fool, Emma.”

Her name came out like a breathless prayer, and despite her best intentions to step away, to make him understand they were a mistake waiting to happen, she couldn’t resist cradling his jaw and bringing his lips to hers again.

It was all the encouragement he needed. The next thing Emma knew, her back was against the wall, his hands running the length of her form. His mouth soon followed, abandoning hers and trailing down her throat. She could feel the way his muscles tensed, his body hard and unyielding as she fought to get closer.

She would climb inside him if she could figure out how.

“The bed. Now.” His voice was a ragged command she wanted to obey but couldn’t quite manage as she felt his hands gliding beneath her dress and slowly tugging the silk up along her hypersensitive skin. He pulled back and gazed at her through hooded eyes, his mouth red from the heated combination of her passion and lipstick. “Or better yet, let’s go. Leave and never look back.”

It was like he doused her with cold water. What was it about this man that made her lose her mind? And her heart, for that matter. She gaped at him, disheveled from head to toe, and whispered, “No.”

“No? To the bed or to leaving?”

“Both. I’m sorry,” Emma said, pushing his chest gently to add distance between them.

He moved at the light pressure she used but captured her hands before she could lift them. Placing a reverent kiss on the inside of her wrist, he murmured, “Your kiss tells a different story, Swan.”

“I kiss everybody that way.” She was lying, and they both knew it, but she felt she needed to try to regain control of the situation.

With an exasperated expression at odds with his adorably wrecked appearance, he asked with a cocked eyebrow, “Does that include your new friend Lancelot du Lac?”

She didn’t need any more evidence that Killian Jones was not like Neal Cassidy, but if she did, his measured voice and probing question about Lance would do it. Neal was an incredibly jealous person, probably because he was cheating during their entire relationship. She couldn’t imagine having a calm conversation with her ex about a man who practically tried to pee on her leg while being introduced to him. He would have accused, he would have pouted, then he would have made her feel like garbage. But this man in front of her simply asked. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like a ticking time bomb that will blow up in your face.”

Maybe it was precisely what it looked like then. “That’s not your concern. It’s my face, and it won’t be the first time.”

“But your face is quite dear to me, Swan. I’d do anything to put a smile on it.” He pressed another one of those barely-there kisses on her wrist, this time letting his lips move further up the inside of her arm slowly.

“Then you should leave. Tonight.” Even she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. It didn’t help that her head had fallen back against the wall, eyes tightly shut so she could savor the feelings he was inducing without pesky things like lights or coherent thoughts getting in the way.

“Not a chance, love. We’re a package deal. We stay or go together. Now come to bed, and let’s work on that smile.”

She allowed herself to move but was surprised when he went to his bag and tossed a shirt in her direction, grabbing one for himself as well. Turning around to give her privacy, he didn’t join her until she clicked off the light on her bedside table. Wrapping her in his arms again, he buried his face in her hair and murmured, “We’re leaving tomorrow if I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”

“If believing that will help you sleep tonight, I won’t be the one to burst your bubble,” she answered with a yawn. “About that smile…”

“You’ll have to keep it in your pants, Swan. I’ve changed my mind. Our first time won’t be on a bed of lies. I’m not going to let you lump me in with the rest of this fantasy land you’re playing in and then be dismissed when it’s all over. Besides, I need some kind of carrot to dangle in front of you to convince you to leave.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days? Maybe your carrot isn’t big enough to make me abandon my plans.”

“I’ve had no complaints, love, but I look forward to earning your opinion on the matter.” She felt his laugh more than heard it, the mattress shaking slightly and her hair rustling. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Of what?”

“Seeing you in my shirts.”

It wasn’t the way she thought he would put a smile on her face, but she couldn’t grumble when the last sound she heard before falling asleep was his gentle snore.

—

The lightness to her step she attributed to the man still passed out in her bed. Their bed. In the bridal suite.

When had life gotten so beautifully complicated?

The weather was bright and clear, the air pleasantly warm. Emma followed the sound of voices out to the terrace and saw most of the guests were already dining al fresco from buffet tables running the entire length of the house and laden with every manner of food one could imagine. She was filling up two plates when she felt someone approach her from behind.

“If you’re going to lurk, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said, not bothering to glance over her shoulder to verify the identity of her visitor. The brooding silence was all the confirmation she needed. “Hold this plate.”

Lance took it from her and held it aloft with all the patience of a toddler who had his favorite toy taken away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, and yourself?”

“Miserably.”

“That’s too bad. You should ask them to put you in the bridal suite next time. The mattress is great.”

“Only if you agree to join me,” he retorted, a hint of his former confidence resurfacing.

She actually started feeling sorry for him. It was hard going through life so scared of love you only made connections with unavailable people. She would know. “You’ll have to take that up with my husband. Although I warn you, he’s the jealous sort.”

Glumly, he picked at the stem of a strawberry and muttered, “I eat husbands for breakfast.”

“How odd. Are they better with toast or fruit?” She snorted at her joke, but he remained impassive. “Come on, Lance, it’s not the end of the world. We had our fun, but the cat is back. Behave.”

They ended up at the head table with Arthur, Guin, and Sidney. It was the last place she wanted to sit, but since it was also the only place and she was hungry, she decided to bear it as best she could. The conversation flowed easily; plans for the day were discussed and discounted in the same breath.

As she contemplated a third plate, Killian rushed to her side. Kneeling in front of her and wrapping her hand in both of his, he announced, “Darling, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Torn between amusement and anxiety, she responded with a single syllable. “Oh?”

“Yes, I didn’t check my email before I arrived last night, but it must have downloaded while I still had a signal. Thank goodness, because I had a message from my mother. Little Hope is sick, and we need to get home right away.”

Looking unconcerned with the newest development, Sidney asked around a mouth full of French toast, “Who’s Hope?”

“You didn’t tell them about Hope?”

“Well, you know how it is…new friends have so many things to talk about it’s hard to fit it all in,” she said with a half-hearted smile, wondering what he was up to.

Ignoring her, he focused his attention on Lance. “Hope is our three-year-old daughter, the light of our lives. And she’s running a high fever and has a horrible rash.”

She had been attempting to swallow, but when he announced the existence of their imaginary daughter to the group, she managed to dribble most of her mimosa down her chin. “Crap.”

“I know, darling. It’s terrible news.” He ran his hand up and down her back in soothing circles, but when she looked at him, he had a dare in his eyes.

Challenge accepted.

“Maybe she has measles. Or chickenpox. Do those still exist? I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sidney responded, dismissing the drama and helping himself to some of the biscuits from the basket at the center of the table.

“We can only hope so. At times like these, a child needs her parents. We should leave. Now.”

“You’re absolutely right, Captain. But your poor mother. Where’s the nearest phone? I need to call immediately and check-in,” she said, making a show of squeezing Killian’s hand and then turning to her friend and adding, “Arthur, would you ask some of your staff to meet us at our room in a few minutes to help us pack while I make a call?”

With a wink, he was off. Emma followed shortly thereafter, hoping she was giving him enough time and that he had glommed on to her plan. Guin had her taken her arm and was leading her into the hallway while everyone else trailed behind. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry about your little girl.”

Emma believed her, and for the first time, she could see why Arthur would forgive her anything.

“What are you doing, love? With the time difference, they’ll be napping. Better to let them sleep. We can call from the airport.”

“No, I couldn’t bear to leave without an update.”

Reaching the old-fashioned hallway phone, she picked it up and dialed the number for her room, ensuring her body concealed the keypad from view. It rang twice, and then Arthur answered. “Your fake husband is a troublemaker. I think I may have found a new best friend.”

“Oh, Mother, thank goodness we reached you! How is our little Hope?” With a side-eyed glance at Killian, she continued, “What did the doctor say?”

She could hear Arthur’s smile as he continued, “No worries, Emma. She doesn’t have measles at all. It’s just a plain old case of a bad hangover. Hope got into her daddy’s rum, and we found her in the gutter this morning.”

With a guffaw she tried to pass off as relieved laughter, she responded, “Oh, how cute of her! Like father, like daughter. She loves it so…” She placed her hand over the mouthpiece and told the group, “She’s all better. The fever broke, and the spots are practically gone.”

She heard Arthur giggle like the little girl her daughter supposedly was and ask, “Is it safe to hang up?”

“What was that, Mother? Hope wants to talk with her Daddy? Of course, he’s right here.” She turned to him, a smile on her face when she noted his grudging respect, and handed him the phone.

He reached for the device as if it were a venomous snake and placed it against his ear. Emma wasn’t sure what Arthur was saying, but Killian’s eyes got wider and wider until he replied, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better dear heart. We’ll see you soon. Listen to your Nana.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? It wasn’t anything serious. Just a heat rash. We don’t have to leave after all.” Impetuously, she threw her arms around him.

He kissed her temple and whispered, “I’ll make you pay for that, love. This isn’t over.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

Lilies of the Valley IX

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

  “A flower is beautiful in every state of life. I, however, find that it is most beautiful right before it blooms.”

Release Date: 06/15/20 @  7 pm

previously ~ next

Her bout lasted a couple of days. YN could barely eat or sleep without fearing that the raging alpha would come after her, that her family didn’t want her anymore, that her mates were just dragging her along. These worries echoed loudly around her head, so loudly YN felt her ears ringing, but on the outside, she remained stoic. Emotionless. It worried her mates, but in her state of turmoil, she had begun to rely more on them. More than she was comfortable with, but it felt nice to be cared for - to be nurtured. They were in the living room some superhero movie playing on-screen, as they all lay on the floor. There were couches, but there wasn’t enough space for all eight of them - so the floor it was. The men, notably the alphas, had remained riled and their scent created a thick layer in the room. YN knew she shouldn’t enjoy it, but it was warm and soothed the negative thoughts in her head.

“Are you comfortable?” Taehyung looked up at her from her lap where his head was resting. They had become a lot more touchy as of late, but YN was starting to resign herself to the idea that this is what her life would be. She offered him a small smile, but from the way, his eyebrow arched YN knew Taehyung was unconvinced. His hand reached up, caressing her cheek gently. The tip of his fingers brushed her lips and YN couldn’t tell if it had been accidental or not. “You’ll have to organize my room next,” Taehyung spoke, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Ah, that.

Rosé had come to visit YN the day after everything happened to distract her when YN suddenly had the urge to rearrange her room. She couldn't describe it, but it had started when her eyes landed on her dresser and YN realized its position felt off. Once that had been fixed she didn't like the way her bed area seemed too crowded. Eventually, the whole room had been moved around and YN was even considering painting it when Jungkook had walked in looking rather perplexed. Rosé had laughed and simply muttered, "She's nesting." It hadn't ended there though as the dining room, office, and living room all had their layouts changed. None of them complained and she had an inkling they secretly enjoyed it. It meant she was becoming comfortable, starting to feel at home.

“Hyung, pay attention,” Jungkook complained, his eyes darting between the two of them before focusing back on the screen.

Taehyung rolled his eyes but did as told. YN's eyes drifted toward the clock on the wall, it was nearly midnight, though she didn't feel tired at all. Jimin and Yoongi had fallen asleep with the former curled up by Hoseok and the latter sharing Namjoon with Jungkook. In the span of a few minutes, Taehyung had closed his eyes and YN knew he too would be asleep soon. All the alphas remained awake each watching the movie with varying levels of interest. Seokjin shifted behind her, his hand tangling itself in her hair and making soothing circles. "What's wrong? Aren't you tired?" YN shook her head, preferring not to answer the first question. Seokjin leaned down and pressed a kiss on her shoulder, near the bite mark, before nuzzling his nose along her neck.

He was scenting her and despite the chills that traveled up her spine, it did relax her. Causing her to lean back onto the alpha’s chest while he smiled. “Tell us what’s wrong.” It felt more like an order than a suggestion, but Seokjin’s pheromones had spiked and their sweet scent lulled YN. Made her want to get closer. Feel more of him. Open up to him.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” It was Namjoon this time, when YN turned her head she found him closer than ever. A few inches away from her face. Fear bubbled up in her stomach but was washed away as Seokjin’s plump lips trailed kisses through her jawline. He was encouraging her to speak, to be honest, and YN was like an old dam. All she needed was a small crack - a leak - and she would burst.

“Of everything. Of you.”

“Of me?” Namjoon questioned, his brow twitching ever so slightly, but he didn’t look upset.

“Of all you.”

“Why?” The lead alpha asked again. Seokjin’s kisses became quicker, sloppier, and YN became aware of another presence near her. Hoseok’s hands softly moved up and down her sides, tickling her ever so slightly. It was all becoming a bit much.

“I don’t know.”

Namjoon tsked in disappointment. “I think you do know, just won’t admit it.” His hooded eyes trailed down her features, landing on her lips before moving back up to her eyes. YN was at a loss for words, unsure of everything. Another body joined them, YN felt warm breath hit her ear before Jungkook’s calm words reached them. “You’re safe. Don’t worry you’re safe.” His tone was soft, delicate, barely above a whisper as if he was afraid of scaring her. YN analyzed every bit of Namjoon’s face: his brows, almond eyes, strong nose, and his pink full lips.

"Namjoon -" In that second, Seokjin's teeth scraped against her scent gland - against her bite mark - and YN couldn't stop the moan that tore through her lips. Reacting instinctively Namjoon closed the distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a passionate fervor. They were anxious, desperate as if he had been waiting forever. As if he was afraid she would disappear soon. The second his lips touched hers YN melted. A warm fuzzy feeling overtaking her and she felt complete. As their kiss continued YN began to wonder if this was what the bond felt like. If this is how the other's felt around each other. Surely it must be it. It feels like a warm hug, soft pillows, the crackling of a fire. It would be gone soon but it felt nice to have experienced it.

When they finally parted YN felt content, which was unusual in the presence of the men, she expected Namjoon to feel the same. But when she glanced up at his eyes she saw something different. His pupils were extremely dilated and there was something animalistic about how Namjoon stared at her. He looked as if he had just taken a bite out the forbidden fruit and wanted more.

She hadn’t reorganized Taehyung’s room much to the betas displeasure, but YN had spent the entire lounging next to the pool. She wasn’t planning on going swimming, but still laid under the sun with a blue dress covering her shoulders. YN had always preferred being alone, even before presenting she had been pretty introverted, it simply became worse after. The scent of lilies hit her nose and YN subconsciously smiled, she had always enjoyed flowers for they represented a simpler time for her. Her school had a garden filled with lilies and the various flowers had been so beautiful to her. Having them planted in the backyard was a nice touch, but she couldn’t figure out the significance of them to the men. Why lilies? Her mind briefly wandered towards what the tattoo artist had said: that she smelled like lilies. Jungkook had even encouraged a lily tattoo but it couldn’t possibly be because of her that they’d planted those.

YN shook her. That’d be ridiculous. She closed her eyes, enjoying how the sun felt on her skin before a dark shadow blocked it. “Mind if we join?” Jimin stood in front, Yoongi by his side, and YN heard a big splash before seeing Taehyung emerge from the pool. “Sure.” Jimin smiled before scooping down and pecking her lips. It shocked her, to say the least, but Jimin simply chuckled before joining Taehyung in the pool. Yoongi took a seat next to her, his lounge chair barely a feet away, but YN was grateful that he simply laid down and closed his eyes. It gave her time to think.

There had been a shift between them since the incident, but YN assumed that it was mainly them being overprotective. After last night’s kiss, and subsequently Jimin’s kiss, she wasn’t so sure anymore. It was true that without another alpha willing to mate YN was stuck with them and the longer she spent with them, the less bothered she was by it. What did concern her was how giddy they were. This morning YN had been dragged out by Jungkook to have breakfast with all of them and they all seemed excited. It gave her whiplash and YN didn’t know if she wanted the relationship to progress at such a rapid rate. Her hand flew up to massage her temples as she felt a growing headache.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi was leaning over now, a concerned look on his face. “Nothing,” YN replied, though her delivery may have been a bit harsh. Instead of flinching or becoming upset Yoongi reached massaging her neck before kissing her forehead tentatively. “There. All better.” YN wanted to ask Yoongi what was going on but was interrupted by Hoseok coming out of the house. Namjoon trailing behind him.

“Ready to go?” YN briefly wondered what he meant before remembering what Namjoon had mentioned during breakfast. “I rescheduled the doctor’s appointment for this afternoon. It’ll be a little late because we have to get some work done.” YN excused herself from the beta’s not missing the way they pouted.

           “Lily wait!” YN skidded to a stop to see Taehyung running at her at full speed, the droplets of water glistening as they fell oof his body. Once he reached her, YN expected Taehyung to kiss her the way Jimin had, but instead, he kissed her bite mark. Laughing at her expression before salaciously winking. The others only chuckled at him before Jimin called him back to the pool claiming he was lonely. YN walked back towards Namjoon and Hoseok finding pleased expressions on both their faces. She took a deep breath before sighing loudly.

           “C’mon YN. Let’s go.”

Sorry this chapter kind of sucked, but I promise the next one will be incredibly important.

Tag List:

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Anime Recommendations

Here is a list of ten anime (in no particular order) that are definitely worth watching, yet don’t seem to get nearly as much recognition as they deserve. 

Terror in Resonance (2014)

This is my personal favorite anime and I push people to watch it whenever I can, which is exactly what I’m doing here.

This show is set-in present-day Tokyo, which has been decimated by a terrorist attack, and the only hint to the identities of the culprits is a bizarre video uploaded on the internet. For the majority of the show the plot follows two different narratives: those of the investigators tasked with bringing down the terrorists, and of the terrorists themselves.

           My Rating: 10/10

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun (2020)

This anime is probably one of my favorites, if not my number one, in terms of art style. I love everything about the character designs and the colors used. It is just so soothing to look at.

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms, she will grant her summoner any wish. When Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

My Rating: 8/10

Kids on the Slope (2012)

If you love jazz, or history, or even heartwarming tales of friendship then this is the show for you. I will admit that is has a bit of a slow start, but by the time you get to the end you’ll be wishing for more.

In 1966, introverted classical pianist and top student Kaoru Nishimi has just arrived in Kyushu for his first year of high school. Having constantly moved from place to place since his childhood, he abandons all hope of fitting in, preparing himself for another lonely, meaningless year. That is, until he encounters the notorious delinquent Sentarou Kawabuchi.    

Sentarou's immeasurable love for jazz music inspires Kaoru to learn more about the genre, and as a result, he slowly starts to break out of his shell, making his very first friend. Kaoru begins playing the piano at after-school jazz sessions, located in the basement of fellow student Ritsuko Mukae's family-owned record shop. As he discovers the immense joy of using his musical talents to bring enjoyment to himself and others, Kaoru's summer might just crescendo into one that he will remember forever.

My Rating: 6/10

Hyouka (2012)

Energy-conservative high school student Houtarou Oreki ends up with more than he bargained for when he signs up for the Classics Club at his sister's behest—especially when he realizes how deep-rooted the club's history really is. Begrudgingly, Oreki is dragged into an investigation concerning the 45-year-old mystery that surrounds the club room.

Accompanied by his fellow club members, the knowledgeable Satoshi Fukube, the stern but benign Mayaka Ibara, and the ever-curious Eru Chitanda, Oreki must combat deadlines and lack of information with resourcefulness and hidden talent, in order to not only find the truth buried beneath the dust of works created years before them, but of other small side cases as well.

           My Rating: 6/10

Tonari no Seki-Kun: The Master of Killing Time (2014)

I absolutely adore this show. The episodes are only about 8 minutes long, and there is very little talking, yet the story still comes through perfectly. It never fails to brighten my day when I’m feeling down.

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

           My Rating: 9/10

Classroom of the Elite (2017)

On the surface, Koudo Ikusei Senior High School is a utopia. The students enjoy an unparalleled amount of freedom, and it is ranked highly in Japan. However, the reality is less than ideal. Four classes, A through D, are ranked in order of merit, and only the top classes receive favorable treatment.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji is a student of Class D, where the school dumps its worst. There he meets the unsociable Suzune Horikita, who believes she was placed in Class D by mistake and desires to climb all the way to Class A, and the seemingly amicable class idol Kikyou Kushida, whose aim is to make as many friends as possible.

While class membership is permanent, class rankings are not; students in lower ranked classes can rise in rankings if they score better than those in the top ones. Additionally, in Class D, there are no bars on what methods can be used to get ahead. In this cutthroat school, can they prevail against the odds and reach the top?

           My Rating: 7/10

The Morose Mononokean (2016)

The start of Hanae Ashiya's high school career has not been easy—he has spent all of the first week in the infirmary, and his inexplicable condition is only getting worse. The cause of his torment is the mysterious fuzzy creature that has attached itself to him ever since he stumbled upon it the day before school began.

As his health continues to decline and the creature grows in size, Hanae comes across a flyer advertising an exorcist who expels youkai. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, he calls the number and is led to the Mononokean, a tea room which suddenly appears next to the infirmary. A morose-sounding man, Haruitsuki Abeno, reluctantly helps Hanae but demands payment afterward. Much to Hanae's dismay, he cannot afford the fee and must become an employee at the Mononokean to work off his debt. And to make things worse, his new boss is actually one of his classmates. If Hanae ever hopes to settle his debt, he must work together with Abeno to guide a variety of dangerous, strange, and interesting youkai back to the Underworld.

           My Rating: 6/10

Beyond the Boundary (2013)

Another of my favorite aesthetically pleasing anime, this show has been the one that I show to friends who claim that anime cannot be beautiful (yes, several of my friends have actually said things along that line).

Mirai Kuriyama is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing "youmu"—creatures said to be the manifestation of negative human emotions. One day, while deep in thought on the school roof, Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. Eventually, Akihito also manages to convince her to join the Literary Club, which houses two other powerful Spirit World warriors, Hiroomi and Mitsuki Nase.

As the group's bond strengthens, however, so does the tenacity of the youmu around them. Their misadventures will soon turn into a fight for survival as the inevitable release of the most powerful youmu, Beyond the Boundary, approaches.

           My Rating: 7/10

Mekakucity Actors (2014)

I think about this show far more than I’d like to admit. The way they bring different plot lines together continues to amaze me 6 years after watching it for the first time.

On the hot summer day of August 14, Shintarou Kisaragi is forced to leave his room for the first time in two years. While arguing with the cyber girl Ene who lives in his computer, Shintarou Kisaragi accidentally spills soda all over his keyboard. Though they try to find a replacement online, most stores are closed due to the Obon festival, leaving them with no other choice but to visit the local department store. Venturing outside makes Shintarou extremely anxious, but the thought of living without his computer is even worse. It's just his luck that on the day he finally goes out, he's caught in a terrifying hostage situation.

Luckily, a group of teenagers with mysterious eye powers, who call themselves the "Mekakushi Dan," assist Shintarou in resolving the situation. As a result, he is forced to join their group, along with Ene. Their abilities seem to be like pieces of a puzzle, connecting one another, and as each member's past is unveiled, the secret that ties them together is slowly brought to light.

           My Rating: 8/10

Angels of Death (2018)

You totally want to get emotionally attached to cereal killers, right? Of course you do, that’s why you should totally watch this anime.

With dead and lifeless eyes, Rachel Gardner wishes only to die. Waking up in the basement of a building, she has no idea how or why she's there. She stumbles across a bandaged murderer named Zack, who is trying to escape. After promising to kill her as soon as he is free, Rachel and Zack set out to ascend through the building floor by floor until they escape.

However, as they progress upward, they meet more twisted people, and all of them seem familiar with Rachel. What is her connection to the building, and why was she placed in it? Facing a new boss on each floor, can Rachel and Zack both achieve their wishes?

           My Rating: 7/10

Bonus: Stars Align (2019)

I am adding one extra because this anime deserves so much more than it got. I adore every single character in this show and want nothing but to see them be happy. There is so much I adore about this show that I can’t put it all into words. I would recommend you watch this so you can share in my rage that the story was cut off halfway through with no current plans of completing it. There is no manga. There is no way of knowing what happens next. This recommendation is entirely for the purpose of generating more public outcry in the hopes that that causes them to finish the show. Please anime gods, if you are reading this I need to know what happens to my smol tennis boys. Are they safe? Are they alright? 

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members,

Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

This story focuses on the potential of the boys' soft tennis club and their discovery of their own capability, while also enduring personal hardships and dealing with the darker side of growing up in middle school.