Light and Dark

Chapter 2

A/N: hey gang, it’s chapter 2! This is not really canon compliant but if you squint real hard it is. I wrote this at 2 am and edited it during French class so I have no idea what state it’s in, please enjoy x

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: Swearing (duh, it’s me), minorly nsfw but like not really, references to sexual and child abuse (not so much this chapter but probably later)

The silence pressed in the second she disappeared.

He was such an idiot.

She had been wearing his necklace though. Cauldron, how could he even call it his necklace, she didn’t know it was from him. Azriel wasn’t even entirely sure why he had given it to her but seeing it in his pile of solstice presents… that led to thoughts of Elain and after the fiasco at solstice he’d tried his best to forget about her.

Too often however, his mind meandered back to thoughts of her face, her mouth. Usually those thoughts came barging into his head late at night, when company fell asleep and his shadows disapated. Recently however those thoughts had changed.

Since solstice that mousy brown hair had taken on hues of red. Turquoise eyes closed in the throes of pleasure and a slimmer body writhed beneath him.

He was so unbelievably fucked. Or maybe the issue was that he wasn’t getting fucked.

He should Rhys’s advice and find company at a pleasure house. He must really hate himself, to lust firstly after Mor, who had shown no interest in him in 200 years. Then Elain, who was mated, and now Gwyneth, with her history she probably wouldn’t want a male to look at her for too long.

Which made him some massive creep to think of her like that. Azriel really did try not to. But when she appeared unannounced, like last night, he couldn’t help but think…

No, he wouldn’t go down that road. Not until he was fully sure she wanted it.

Azriel had beeen so surprised when a shadow curled around his ear in the stormy night and whispered of a nymph girl climbing the stairs. He was out of his seat and down the steps faster than he could consider any potential consequences.

And there she had been, standing in the hallway, looking like she might want to turn right around and march back down, but a shadow flicked against his ear, singing softly and he spoke her name.

He wanted to reach out to her, his shadows took that as a cue and tried to reach out themselves before he pulled them back. Something about her was affecting them, drawing them in. Or maybe she was affecting him like that.

That was a dangerous thought.

She had stood silent, lithe frame backlit by the torches behind her and said,

“Would you like some company?”

Her voice was a melody. His shadows purred in answer.

The worlds axis must have shifted, he could probably look outside to find the stormy sky had turned as blue as her eyes he was taking too long to answer and she was looking at him oddly, perhaps noting the shadows flying around his shoulders.

They were so excitable in her presence, he couldn’t control them and that was extremely concerning. Az doesn’t like what he can’t control.

All worry was chased from his mind as he climbed the stairs and another topic was thrust into his brain.

Gwyn from the back was almost as glorious as she was from the front.

Gods what he wouldn’t do to grip those hips and grind that perfect little ass on his-

No.

He stopped himself, looking away before his control could be tested further. She said it herself, she was here for conversation and Mother damn him he would talk to her casually.

Gwyn was not going to be a repeat of Mor or Elain. He was not going to lust after another female that wanted nothing to do with him, and pine away until his demise.

Gwyn was going to mean more than that. He would keep her at arms length, so that he may keep her as a friend.

And he was making a fool of himself. She asked his favourite colour and the only colour left in the world was that of her eyes.

And he laughed, for the first time in weeks, stress melting from his weary bones after just minutes with this fabulous creature.

And he told her things he had never told anyone, that was dangerous.

He was a spymaster, mother damn him. A spymaster wasn’t much good if he told a female all his secrets after a few pretty smiles.

But gods, her smiles were pretty. He wondered how pretty her mouth would-

No. None of that.

He needed her out of here so he could collect pieces of his sanity before he spilled any other important secrets.

As she walked back towards the library however, he almost called her back. An unruly shadow seemed to take that as an opportunity to reach for her, but Az whipped it back.

Dangerous indeed.

And yet, that night he slept without dreams. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. Well truthfully, he could, it was a time when his hands were unscarred.

Cassian was back the next morning. Ever his cheerful self since the mating ceremony almost a month ago. He had been unbearable for a week afterwards. Azriel had had to vacate the house of wind and call a halt to lessons as Cass had almost taken his head off and Nesta had growled at Emerie the first time she tried to enter the house.

Not to mention the scents and sounds emanating from different rooms. Azriel was happy for his brother, truly. Even if it did make him green with envy and blue with melancholy.

The following week, the happy couple were back training but Cass was so distracted Az managed to beat him into the dirt on no less than three occasions. Azriel waited another week before moving back into the House, still half considering Rhys’s offer to fumegate it.

He had kept occupied by tracking Koschei, or rather attempting to track him. The King had proven hard to pin down, a source of growing frustration to Azriel. He despised having to bring bad news to his High Lord, and now that Rhys had Nyx to worry about he hated it even more.

But Rhys maintained that they had faced threats before and triumphed but the failure still weighed heavy on Az that morning in the training ring.

He tried his hardest not to look at Gwyn. He couldn’t help it sometimes, her hair caught the light when she twirled under Emerie’s punch.

It looked like a flame come to life in the early morning sunlight and he challenged any living male not to loose breath.

It was with a warriors assessment that he allowed his gaze to rove over her slight body. He was admiring her form and positioning, definitely not imagining her in different positions. That would be both unsavoury and unprofessional. Which is why he hated himself for doing it.

Gwyn hardly noticed him, barely glancing in his direction and he had the strangest urge to pick a fight with Cassian in attempt to garner her attention.

That wasn’t good.

The warrior in question was flirting with his mate while she squatted, arching her back in a way that was unnecessary and counterproductive but Cassian didn’t call her up on it, he seemed too busy enjoying the show. Nesta however corrected herself and continued on while his lovesick brother pretended he hadn’t been leering at his mate.

Gwyn too had spotted the encounter laughed, a tinkling sound that lightened something dark in Azriels chest. She looked around to see if anyone else had caught what she had, and that’s when it happened. Her eyes met his and the world shifted again. He couldn’t help the smile that blossomed in the wake off her own. One thought consumed him as he turned back to his own priestesses and guided them through the next set. He was so unbelievably fucked.

Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @princessofmerchants @princessofmerchants-reads @azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @lovelywordsandwine @thron3ofbooks @velaaaris @illyrian-valkyrie

Chapter 3

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for my writing or this fic x

You said you wanted me to ask for a fic request remember the one you did for me with Atsushi and Tanizaki found family can i have more of that please (I'll make you a wallpaper too) -raven

Nine in the Afternoon

Sorry this took so long! Took a bit for the writing braincell to get off her gorefic trip and focus on other things. Dazai-centric found family fic ahead, considering it was his birthday a few days ago, featuring him forgetting to eat. Hope you enjoy!

Dazai doesn't like late nights at the Agency. It's all very counterproductive to his usual MO, which is to slack off until Kunikida is on the verge of a stress-induced heart attack and then get all his work done as quickly as possible. It's worked pretty well for him so far, but every so often, there will be a case with so much paperwork that he'd rather stay late than do it in the morning.

It's one of those nights. Normally, he goes home to his dingy flat around five, which is when Yosano tends to clock out but still before Kunikida or the President leaves. The interns clock out earlier--two or three, depending on the workload, and Dazai envies them somewhat. Atsushi's usually never in the office these days. He tends to be out in the field, providing backup for Ranpo or Kenji or Tanizaki.

Dazai's actually quite proud of him. He's come a long way from the shivering, underweight stick of a kid that dragged his sorry ass out of the river. Still underweight, though. Even though Dazai has seen him inhale his body weight in chazuke on multiple occasions.

He isn't an anxious sort of person, not like Kunikida, but he does worry for Atsushi sometimes.

Is he getting old?

What a strange thought. He's only twenty-six. That's not old.

The paperwork in front of him starts to swim, the black type blurring into the blue ink of his pen. The kanji isn't all that readable anymore. And his brain seems to be working slowly, too slow. Poison? Was he poisoned?

But he can't have been. He hasn't eaten anything all day.

Dazai braces himself on the desk with a hand, but his wrist feels weak and floppy. It's all he can do to keep from face-planting into his papers.

"Oi, Dazai," says a familiar voice. It takes him a second to connect the caustic tone to Kunikida, who, being Kunikida, also hasn't gone home yet.

"Mm?" he says, trying to force himself back into coherence. The rough wood of the desk underneath his fingers grounds him slightly.

"Are you alright? You look paler than normal."

Kunikida sounds concerned. About him? That's different.

But it's really not. Deep down, Dazai knows that Kunikida cares about him, but the knowledge comes in a sort of impersonal, detached fashion. He knows, logically, that Kunikida cares about a person named Osamu Dazai underneath all the nagging and the throttling and the judo throws. He just doesn't connect himself to that Osamu Dazai all that often.

"Oi, Dazai," Kunikida repeats. Dazai barely hears him.

He hears a loud curse and the sound of a chair scraping back. Then he feels broad, strong hands on his shoulders, shaking him softly. "Dazai," Kunikida says sharply.

He raises his head, which does nothing for his blurry vision. He tries a weak smile, which apparently does nothing either, because Kunikida's frown only deepens.

"Did you eat today?" he asks, intent.

Dazai tries to think about it. It takes him a second, but then he remembers. No, he hadn't. That's why he couldn't have be poisoned.

"No," he says, not sure where Kunikida was going with this.

Kunikida swears again. "Jackass," he mutters, but in the strange way Kunikida manages when he's really, truly fucked up, it almost sounds fond. He gives him another gentle shake. "Stay there," he orders then, as if Dazai is in any shape to get up from his desk. The order makes him want to try, though, out of spite.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, giving up on forcing himself upright and just slumping onto his papers.

Kunikida leaves, and time passes. Dazai isn't really aware of it. But he counts his heartbeats, because that's a comforting thing he can control even when his brain feels like slush and he's mostly unable to focus his eyes.

When Kunikida comes back, there's a second set of footsteps with him.

"Dazai-san," says Atsushi, sounding concerned in the way that almost everything Atsushi says tends to sound.

Dazai tries to greet him, but it comes out too incoherent for even him to really guess at what he was saying. Atsushi lets out a long-suffering sort of sigh and puts something on the desk in front of him.

Dazai lifts his head a little. There's a plastic box in front of him, smelling faintly of microwaveable noodles. Atsushi sighs again and drops a pair of disposable chopsticks in front of him too. "Come on, Dazai-san," he says, full of reproach. "You know that when you don't eat, you get like this. When was the last time you had a meal?"

He doesn't want to think of the irony of Atsushi lecturing him on eating, so he makes a pathetic grab at the chopsticks. He nearly tips over the noodles. The only thing that saves them are Atsushi's reflexes, which are so fast, even Dazai's eyes can't track them sometimes. Or that might be the hunger. He can't tell.

"Dazai, if I have to babysit you into eating, I'm telling Yosano-sensei," says Kunikida gruffly. And that, more than anything, gets Dazai to drag himself into a sitting position and snap the chopsticks apart. Yosano may not be able to use her ability on him, which was the smallest of mercies, but she could deliver one vicious lecture on nutrition and the dangers of disordered eating. He would know. He'd sat through one already.

"Kunikida-kun is so mean to me," Dazai grumbles out of habit, and because this is the only way he knows how to talk to Kunikida when they're not in the field.

The noodles, he thinks, are really good.

But Atsushi's beaming grin when he starts eating and Kunikida's disgruntled half-smile are better.

OK something that genuinely pisses me off is when people are upset with a certain thing or person but refrain from expressing how they truly feel about said thing or person, UNTIL they find a perfect opportunity to slag them off with a “I told you so, they’re a horrible person” or “I always knew they’re like this, they also did XYZ which I hate” under the pretense of speaking up about something that is genuinely problematic and expressing sympathy for the victim.

Ok, yes, I’m talking about Roger’s recent comments about John. I do think his comments painting John as a reclusive hermit who just sits at home counting his money are wrong, uncalled for and rude. I think it’s valid and important for people to call him out for that. It’s okay to disagree with him, to say you dislike what he said, etc. What grinds my gears is that some people who already have their grievances against Roger (and Brian) would act like they have nothing against him/them, and THEN all the complaints about Q+AL, Q+PR, Made In Heaven (sic!), No One But You (sic!!!!!), the biopic, basically any post-Freddie Queen project rear their ugly heads when Roger “slips up” or does something that warrants criticism, in a conversation that SHOULD be central to Roger’s comments about John.

Saying they’re “parading Freddie’s dead corpse around the stage”, “solely profitting off of Freddie’s name with Made In Heaven and No One But You”, “should have retired after Freddie’s death” etc and then ending their statements with some half-assed attempt of fawning over John’s mental health… Please, if you are upset with Roger (and/or Brian) over how they have been handling Freddie/Queen’s legacy, by all means, say what you want and express your opinions. But don’t weaponize Roger’s offhand comments about John, John’s decision to retire or speculation over his mental state just to shit on Roger (and Brian).

Going “ah finally I can talk shit about these people and all the things I resent them for because they did this particular thing 😏🤩” and then turning the focal point of the discussion away from Roger’s comments about John, their relationship over the years or John’s mental health or whatever, to “I hate Roger (and Brian). They’re horrible people for doing XYZ. Now I can finally shit on them without backlash in this comment section” under the pretense of wanting justice for John is just cowardly, unfair and frankly counterproductive. Like do you really care how his comments have impacted John over the years? Or is this just the golden opportunity for you to openly slag Roger off for every other thing that you resent him for?

TLDR; if you hate someone for whatever reason, just say so. Don’t act like you’re on some moral high ground and talk shit about Roger (and/or Brian) under the pretense of speaking up for John.

Could I inquire about Nix and/or Harry for the characterization meme, lovely Merc👀

Send me the name of a character I write, and I will give you the top ideas/concepts I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to depicting them accurately. This includes both original characters and fanfic characters.

Aw, man, I have to chose?

Okay, we'll pick on Nix first.

Nix grew up in an upperclass family in the 20s. His parents were separated, and his father was a violent alcoholic.

He is almost always pretending to be better than he is. This is a coping mechanism - he grew up in a house where everything was supposed to look fine even when it wasn't, and he hides things, even from people who are close to him. His moments of sincerity are rare things and should be handled carefully.

He's smart. He loves playing with language, both because it makes some people laugh and some people stay away, and because it reinforces some stereotypes people may have about him. On the subject of stereotypes, he likes playing with people's perceptions of him. It's not that he can't do the work - it's that he'd much rather whip out a perfect grade from seemingly nowhere.

He does not trust easily. (See comment above about parents.) Over time he's learned that some people are just not worth investing time in, and this makes him seem callous. His friends are few, but have made their way into his heart by being just as quick, witty, sarcastic, or angry as he is. He is always afraid that they will leave him when he is not funny enough for them to tolerate him any more. He is aware that his money attracts people, and is also always a little afraid this may be the only reason people like him. He tries to be very casual about this. A robust social life means that while he may seem like the life of the party, he would much rather spend his time with a few people he knows aren't just there for the free booze.

Once you are one of his people, he is very protective. Again, the alcoholic father and the fear of being left when he is no longer necessary. Thinking about others and showing up for them can sometimes help him distract himself from what's going on in his own head. One of the people he is absolutely ride or die for is his sister, as she was one of the only constants in his life growing up. Despite the devil-may-care playboy exterior, he can and does care about women in his life (when they are around long enough to gain his trust) and some of that is due to Blanche.

Harry!

Harry grew up in a working class family in a small town. His father was mildly professional, but the implication that food had to be put on the table was not lost on him from a young age. He knows the value of a dollar, and what it took to get to him. He has been working for a long time prior to his joining the military in odd jobs.

Harry shows up for people. This is something he learned to do as a child and it has not left him yet. While other people might be able to solve problems with money, Harry has learned to solve problems with the gifts of his time and his presence. He makes friends (and lovers) easily.

He has a chip on his shoulder. He is aware he is not anyone's idea of a perfect officer, and quite frankly, he's a little annoyed he has to be here himself. Any responsibility he has was given under extreme duress, but is taken very, very seriously. He is not a goldbrick. If he is doing a thing, then by god, he is doing the thing, and no one will half-ass it. This is another holdover from his childhood - any job worth doing is worth doing right the first time.

On this subject, he does not have time for people who do not pull their weight. He also doesn't have time for people who intentionally pull other people down. It's counterproductive, classist, and a waste of time. He has all the time in the world for people who are trying just as hard as he is.

He's quick. Quick to laugh, quick to make or take a joke, quick to throw a punch. Harry is an act-now-ask-questions later kind of a guy. This isn't to say he doesn't think at all - at the end of the day he's very commonsense in his thinking - but that he follows very simple and small operational procedures.

Harry loves women, and women love Harry. (He loves one woman in very particular, which he will not let you forget.) His mother dragged him to church on Sundays and taught him what respectful looks like, and it shows. While he is not above laughing at a dirty joke or a risque picture, he has enough sense not to bring that to his day-to-day dealings with women, and may even go so far as to call that behavior out in others when he sees it.

Hug-o-gram Preview | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending “hugs” to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to *o*e him, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: anticipated 10-12K  → a/n: who the fuck am i... why am i writing so much??? let’s all thank miss kwaranteen for that, my friends. but what’s with the fluff, you ask? thank miss @jincherie​ for that because her weak heart can’t handle angst so i have to use my limited fluff muscles to write this for her... anyway idk when this is coming out but its probs soon,, enjoy this lil snippet i guess LMAO 

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbow. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

since denae and i doubled up on asks I guess I will ask about usurper 👀 EVIL son boy

Full Name: Machiavelli “The Usurper” Kaneko

Gender and Sexuality: man (? No ones sure, least of all him), gay

Pronouns: he/him

Ethnicity/Species: human, half white half mixed-Asian.

Birthplace and Birthdate: around Halcyon City, sometime in November. I don’t think I ever decided on a specific date. Probably in the 20-30 date range??

Guilty Pleasures: coddling and dressing up his cat. Like it’s normal to do, but it’s still looked down upon for a man to do that, so I think it counts. Also baking for catharsis bc his criminal status means he can’t go to therapy.

Phobias: Busy streets and also, in a weird way, sleep. He still gets horrible nightmares.

What They Would Be Famous For: Being a former teen hero, the latest in a legacy, who took justice into his own hands after the death of like All of his team and also both of his dads. He also does it in a very flashy and dramatic way bc he’s out of the legacy so no one can tell him not to so his flare as well. It’s not good fame, but it’s fame.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Well he’s gone so far into vigilante justice that he’s considered a super villain so All of That. He has killed.

OC You Ship Them With: @pochitagaming ‘s Bishop. Murder Spouses

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Hannah. Without a doubt Hannah. If he were to fight her he’d have maybe a 15% chance of winning.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He likes competition shows a lot. He also likes adventure for fictional stuff.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: He doesn’t really vehemently hate anything, but tries to avoid stuff that’s so bad it’s good. It reminds him too much of Lou, and thinking of Lou is a one way ticket to his facade shattering for a little while, which is very counterproductive.

Talents and/or Powers: Manipulation of oxygen/air, electricity, also can cause small storms but only small ones. He’s focused too much on the other two powers to really get a good grip on that.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He plays uncaring, but in reality he’s like this because he cares too much. He tries to keep a distance, but if he lets that down even a little bit he will latch onto that person so strongly and care so deeply. He’s also very good with children and animals, despite everything. ALSO he’s very pretty and has a nice ass, like objectively it’s very good.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: *gestures to the Everything*

How They Change: He grows to take more care of himself after becoming monogamous with Bishop, probably gives up the Usurper thing to just Be with them

Why You Love Them: Even if he is a supervillain in this iteration, it’s the only one where he really has a chance at a happy ending. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, and he never got it in canon. At least he can have it now.

Honeymoon (King Liam x MC)

Rating: M (Drug Use, Substance Abuse, Violence, Self-Inflicted Violence)

Characters: Dark!Liam Rys x Dark!Lyra Frasier (MC) x Dark!Drake Walker

Summary: Fresh out of school and trying to figure things out, Lyra Frasier spends her weekdays going to a job she hates and her weekends in a drug fueled haze. And then she meets golden boy Liam. Lyra soon realizes that the violent underbelly of New York City’s elite may be more than she can handle.

Author’s Note: I haven’t updated this thing since uh......last year? I’m bad at making a writing schedule for myself. I think, the way TRR has been going as a series, I just haven’t had the motivation. But when I separate this world from that one, it helps a bit more. 

Honeymoon Series

ooo. Prologue.

oo1. Honeymoon.

oo2. Midnight City.

--x-- 

oo3. C.R.E.A.M. 

It was bad enough that Liam’s father was ill; he also had to be stubborn as fuck.

Liam winced as his ailing father lifted the shaking glass of whiskey to his lips, determined to keep drinking despite what the doctor and his wife told him about the effects on his body. Liam cleared his throat, earning a single passive glance from his father across the desk. 

“Oh come on,” Constantine groaned, licking the droplets of liquor from his chin, “Not you, too. I don’t need anymore shit about what I do in my free time.” 

Unwilling to take advice from those he deemed inexperienced, Constantine was an unwavering force in a world of deeply complicated decisions. Liam patiently rested his folded hands in his lap, training his expression to convey as much stoicism as he could in the given circumstance.

“You don’t seem to understand that this,” he motioned towards the glass, “is the reason why Sebastian Clark was able to fly under your radar for so long? What would’ve happened if Walker and I hadn’t figured him out? Who knows what he could’ve gotten away with--” 

“That rotten, coked out fucker,” Constantine spat with a wave of the hand, “Good riddance. I didn’t need him poisoning my ranks with his bullshit.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Liam leaned forward in his seat, speaking slowly to emphasize his next point, “We don’t know that he hasn’t. And the fact that he was in your ranks for as long as he had should be worrisome. Who knows what else is going on that we don’t know about.”

“My men are loyal to me,” Constantine stated plainly, “One bad apple doesn’t always spoil the lot.”

At the age of 67, he’d been away from the action for quite some time. Evidence of a hard youth decorated his face and body in the form of scars and bones that didn’t quite heal correctly. Liam couldn’t remember a time when his father didn’t look tired. If he hadn’t seen a photo of a young Constantine with his own eyes, he’d believe the man just came into this world with a shock of white hair and bloodshot eyes. His stepmother half-joked that Liam’s older brother, Leo, caused their father to gray prematurely with his gambling and sex addictions.

On the other hand, Leo had to get it from somewhere.

Liam watched his father struggle to take another sip from his glass before averting his gaze to a family photo on his father’s desk. Teenage Justin and Liam sat side-by-side, unsmiling, with neatly pressed suits on in front of their equally serious fathers. Why Constantine kept that particular photo on his desk, Liam never understood. Nothing about it exuded warmth. 

“Did Justin ever talk about a girl around you?” Liam suddenly asked, refocusing on his father who swirled his whiskey in deep thought. 

“A girl?” He repeated in thought, “Once or twice. Usually he was asking advice on how to keep them tamed, you know?” 

Constantine attempted a conspiratorial smile that Liam didn’t reciprocate. 

“Did he mention any specific names?” Liam pressed on, “Or descriptors?” 

Constantine raised a brow and sat the sweating glass on a wooden coaster, “What is this about?”

What was this about? Liam wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the girl, Lyra, that intrigued him. How was she able to dip in and out of their world so easily without leaving any footprints behind? Who did she know? 

After dropping her off back home the previous afternoon, Liam did some quick research into who she was. Aside from a few high school choir competition press reels, she was an otherwise ordinary woman. 

“Well I...” Liam chose his words carefully, “ran into Justin at the bar, talking to a girl. You know we never really see him with anyone. So I was just curious.”

There was a brief pause between the two men, and the grin returned to Constantine’s face, “A hot piece of ass, huh? Thinking of getting in there?” 

Liam said nothing, but fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. His father wasn’t technically wrong. But god damn if the wording didn’t make him feel like the grossest piece of shit. 

He decided to drop the subject for another time.

“Sorry to push us off topic, Dad,” Liam quickly corrected, “But, back to my original point...how do you know for sure Clark was the only shady one in the group?” 

Constantine considered this, tapping his pen on the wooden desktop, “What reason would I give them to turn their backs on me? I’ve been with these men for well over 30 years, I fed them,” he counted on his fingers, “clothed them, put their kids through school, made them dukes in their own respects. They made their names on my back, and they think they’re gonna fuck me over!” 

The sudden exclamation caused the man to cough violently into his arm and then into a handkerchief. Liam instinctively jumped to his feet, and rushed across the room to fetch a glass of water for his father. 

“I’m fine!” Constantine croaked, attempting to catch his breath, “I just got a bit overexcited.” 

Despite his protests, Constantine took the glass and sipped from it slowly. It hurt Liam to see his father deteriorating so quickly. A part of him felt like Constantine believed himself to be invincible. A smaller part of Liam felt like his father was simply just giving up. He had to put on an air of confidence, as he was at the top of the pyramid and could not show weakness. But as he grew older, cracks in the foundation began to form. Cracks that Liam had been working to seal. 

Liam loved his father. There was no doubt about that. But every day the work grew more difficult. Liam could almost envision the empire crumbling at his father’s feet, all because he was too stubborn to fix the loose bricks. 

As if reading his mind, Constantine sat the glass down and looked over his son, “You do know that I love you, right, kiddo?” 

There was a faraway look in his eyes, a look Liam saw once in a while. And he always wondered where Constantine went when that happened. 

“Yeah, I know, dad.”

Sadness darkened his father’s features, “Despite the issues that your mother and I had,” he cleared his throat, “I did love her. And I think you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m always going to be proud of you.” 

A pit formed in Liam’s stomach and he reached across to grab his father’s hand, “Hey, what are you not telling me?” 

And just like that, Constantine switched the darkness off, a confident grin returning to his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“A man can’t tell his kid he appreciates him, anymore? Lighten up, Liam.” 

--x--

Liam sat in the garage of his apartment building to smoke and attempt at shuffling through his thoughts. Maybe it was counterproductive. An hour after leaving Constantine’s office, Liam learned of another potential fuck up in his father’s ranks. Someone was making trade deals on the low, and informing a rival company of some arms delivery pick up spots before they arrived for a cut of the profit. He passed the message along to Drake, who responded with the same concerns regarding Constantine’s failing leadership. 

Liam was only one man. Though he was sure he didn’t feel an ounce of the pressure his father did, the stress he felt nearly crippled him sometimes. He briefly allowed his mind to wander to Lyra and what she was doing. Did she know how much he envied her life? She didn’t answer to anyone, she could leave the city if she wanted to, she never had to constantly look over her shoulder. Lyra carried herself with the air of freedom he could only dream about. Clutching his phone in tatted knuckles, he almost considered texting her. But truly, what would he even say? 

“Hey, I know we only spoke once and you gave me your number because you wanted to pay me back for the gas (which you still don’t have to do). But what does freedom feel like?” 

Right now, Liam imagined she was laying across the secondhand sofa in some old college sweatshirt, watching YouTube, her mind a thousand miles away from him. He’d never even seen her apartment. But he had a feeling she had a lot of plants and a collection of decorated whiskey bottles on her kitchen counter. She seemed like the type. He caught himself chuckling at the thought and frowned. Ideally, he’d just let her go. He could never bring her into this world, she was too good for it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could grow to like her. 

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, sharply pulling him from a moment of escapism he didn’t even know he needed. 

“Hello?” Liam answered, attempting to mask his disappointment. 

“Idon’tknowwhathappened! Idon’tknow!” A shrill voice cried on the other end between sobs. Liam pulled the phone from his face, and realized it was his father’s assistant, Penelope, calling from an unknown number. Alarm bells went off in Liam’s head, and he turned the ignition in his car. 

“Pen, what happened?” He asked, sitting up in his seat. 

“I just came in and he was....! I don’t know what happened, Liam! I was gone for an hour!”

“What. Happened?” Liam asked, again. His heart began to thud in his ears, and he gripped the steering wheel, “Just fucking tell me. Spit it out-”

“Constantine shot himself!”

Love Without A Name

Chapter Ten: Pictures Emerge

Word Count: 4118

Masterlist

Warnings: Language and Anxiety

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two months moved in a blur. Tom and I bought a place together, moved in, and I had started a new job not far from it. The flat was actually in the same building as the original.

"We are still neighbors, Haz!"Tom laughs as he carries in a box from the hallway inside the new flat.

Harrison groans, setting down his load as I tag along behind him,"You two could have, I don't know, found a different building?"

"But if we had done that then this would have been ten times worse!" Tom smirks, setting down his box labeled 'Kitchen' on the island.

"And think about it Haz," I hum, lifting myself on the counter to sit, "now if you two hang out, when you're sick of him you can just send his ass home."

Harrison laughs and gives me a high five while Tom whines out a, "Heeeeeeey."

The place was pretty spacious, leaving two bedrooms left to be furnished in the future when my family, or Tom's friends, decided to come visit. (Or we decided we wanted to maybe start trying for kids.) The master bedroom was a lot bigger, and included a master bath which Tom and I enjoyed having. We did eventually get a bigger bed, but only after did it became less occupied, especially since the pet beds had been set up.

It took some time for Tom and I to figure out what our style was together. But it was nice to be able to decorate and furnish the place the way we wanted it; which ended up just being cozy and homey (with lots of colorful pieces to displace the black and white furniture). The walls were slowly starting to become decorated in photos from the wedding and our honeymoon, as well as pictures of our family and friends. It had really started to become a home.

"You three need to come and visit," I whine as I pull the phone further from my face where I was laying on the couch.

"When we have time, and money." Mae smiles, Joyce nodding behind her.

"Yeah, who do you think we are?" Celine teases, shifting in the background.

"Uh, duh, my best friends; but anyways, Tom and I are officially moved into the apartment now, and I started my new job last week." I hum, thinking about the small clinic not far down the road.

"I heard!" Mae laughs, Joyce suddenly laughing in the background. "Mom was talking to yours and said you two had almost burned down the apartment, twice I think."

I sheepishly smile before holding up three fingers, causing the girls to erupt with laughter and call out my name. "Okay, it's not my fault. We like to have music playing in the apartment and well, a few times it's a nice slow song and Tom wants to slow dance so we do and we got distracted." I giggle, shaking my head softly. "On the plus side, the owner of the pizza place knows our order by heart."

The girls are laughing so hard that Celine actually falls of her couch. "You literally are living the dream, (Y/N)." When she finally makes her way back on the couch she motions for me, "You never did give us a tour!"

"Yes! We wanna see the house!" Joyce yells, Mae's eyes falling wide at her excitement.

I stand, giggling at them before I begin to walk around the apartment, telling them about all the different places, narrating from behind the camera. In the process of this, Tom had actually come home and was just watching from behind me as I talked about the master bedroom. He eventually laughed at me, asking what I was doing, which go the response of "I'm giving a house tour!"

He leans on the door frame, arms folded over his chest, "Over Skype?"

"Yup!" I giggle, pointing the camera at him, "Look, it's my husband!" a chorus of 'hellos' come from the speaker.

"Hello, ladies!" He laughs, waving before walking out of the room, but not before adding, "You're a strange one, darling."

"You married me, that's your own fault." I call back, moving into the hallway again to show off the extra, empty rooms, "Stuck with me forever."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, my love."

I smile, the girls cooing about how cute we are. Eventually I end the call and join him in the kitchen. I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head down on his back. "How was your meeting?"

"Good," he sighs, placing his hands on top of mine, "we discussed when filming would start." There is a slight pause before he adds, "going to be earlier than expected."

"How soon?" I mumble, squeezing him closer to me.

He takes in a deep breath, almost as if he is braving for the worst before muttering out, "Two weeks."

"For how long?"

"About a month and a half," he takes one of my hands in his, lacing them together, "then I'll be back in London for the rest of shooting." The tone in his voice tells me that he is worried about how I'll react; but, it's his job, nothing I could do about it.

"Not bad," I hum, squeezing him before letting go to wander over to the fridge. I stand in front of it, deciding on out of everything in the fridge, what I could make and begin to pull it out. The only problem, Tom picks everything that I take out and keeps returning them to the fridge. "You're being very counterproductive, Tommy. I need to cook dinner," I laugh.

He smirks, "Well, if you would have asked I would have told you that I ordered take-out and that you didn't need to cook dinner." He sasses, causing me to hum in response tugging me into his arms. "It should be here in a few minutes." He smiles, leaning down to pepper my face in soft kisses, making me giggle.

I move away from him slightly, noticing the slight pout on his lips, "So since we have some time to kill, can I tell you some stories from today?" Tom smiles and nods as I begin to ramble on about some of the more entertaining things that had happened at the clinic; of course, not exposing any of the kids' personal information to him while doing so. While I ramble, Tom nods along and hums in all the right places, but I can tell he really has no clue about what I am talking about.

"You're cute when you talk about all this smart stuff that I cannot even fathom." He chuckles, leaning on the counter and shaking his head.

"Cute enough to convince you to help me build something for one of my kids to help with his treatment?" I bat my eyes at him, causing a laugh to fall from his lips.

"I'd love to help you, lovey." He nods, leaning down to kiss me, but is interrupted by the buzzer going off. He sighs, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead before untangling himself from me, "Get a movie and drinks while I get the food?"

"I got it." I smile, moving back to the fridge, "Beer?"

"Please," he calls as he makes his way over to the front door, leaving it cracked as he heads to the lobby.

I walk around the kitchen, refilling my water bottle before heading to the living room. Tessa and Phoebe are sleeping in the large dog bed, snuggled together. I smile and snap a picture, which I have plenty of already, before I switch on the t.v. and scroll through Netflix. I settle for the Princess Bride, simply because we had planned to watch it last time but ended up watching Infinity War because we wanted to count and talk about the funny scenes; and so Tom could shield my face and yell so I didn't hear Peter's dusting scene ('Because I can't get enough of that laugh, my love!'). I smile when he returns with the take-out bags and sets it down on the coffee table.

"Princess Bride, nice. Go ahead and play it, lovey."

"As you wish," I giggle noticing Tom's lips turn up in the corners.

"Isn't that supposed to be the prince's line-"

"Technically, he is a servant boy-"

"He's her prince charming-"

"I know, baby," I giggle, catching his face in my hands. "And you're mine."

Tom rolls his eyes but leans in and captures my lips in a kiss, "That was cheesy, (Y/N)."

"It was supposed to be." I mutter into his mouth before pulling away and settling into his side. "Food?"

"Yup, only the best take-out for the best last-minute-improvised date-"

"So this is a date?" I giggle, looking up at him.

Tom looks up at the ceiling and playfully groans, "I'm trying to be romantic!" He whines, making me laugh.

"I'm sorry, I just love teasing you. And I love you, sooo..."

"I love you too." He mutters, kissing my nose. We look at each other for a few minutes until we realize that we missed the first ten minutes of the movie.

"Will you rewind that?" I laugh as he leans away to grab the remote.

"As you wish," he mutters while wiggling his eyebrows at me, causing me to laugh behind him. Oh was a perfect, last-minute-improvised date.

~

"Okay, what are you thinking we do for supper?" I ask, Paddy walking beside me, phone pressed firmly into his hand.

"Uh, something with chicken...?" He looks over at me as I grab a cart, pursing his lips slightly. "Also, can we grab something that I can take for lunch for the summer program?"

"Yeah, if you have anything in mind, go grab it. I'm thinking chicken stir-fry, that okay?"

"Like what you made the night you and Tom first moved in? Yes, please."

I laugh, ruffling his hair as I point him in the direction of a few other things I would need for the upcoming week. He smiles as he takes his part of the list and wonders down the familiar aisles. I mutter ingredients under my breath and stand in front of a display of veggies, pulling my hair out of its ponytail and letting it fall again, massaging my scalp to get the roots to stop tingling before grabbing peppers and onions. As I walk to go get wild rice and chicken, Paddy runs over and places a few things in the cart, only to dart off again to grab something else.

The sound of my phone going off in my backpack causes me to knit my eyebrows together in confusion. I swing it in front of me before pulling out my cell phone, Hazel's name and number illuminating the screen. I smile as I answer, "Hazel! How are you?"

"I'm good!" Hazel's voice chirps from the receiver. "How has everything been?"

"Good," I hum, stopping as I grab a loaf of bread, only to grab another. "Tom's working, I'm working, and we got and moved into the flat." I let out a content sigh, "Everything is just really good."

"I'm glad! I was just calling to check in, make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, doing really well. I'm just shopping with Paddy, he's staying the week with me cause his folks are on vacation and the twins are doing projects out of the country."

"So not alone, that's good."

"Yeah," I laugh, noticing Paddy standing in the magazine aisle, holding one in his hand.

"Oh, sorry to cut this short! A client just walked in, I didn't realize it was that close to time. Have a good day!"

"You too!" I smile, hanging up before maneuvering the cart into the aisle and over to Paddy. "You find everything you needed, Pads?"

"Uh, almost, but I noticed this." He hands me the magazine. It's a common gossip magazine. Except, one of the bubbles has the caption, 'Marvel Actor, Tom Holland, spotted on vacation with potential girlfriend?' the picture was blurry, but I could tell that it had been taken while Tom and I had been at the airport in Florida. "Do you think we should tell Tom?"

I nod, but only take a quick picture of the article and front page before replacing it on the shelf. "I'll call him while we make dinner." Paddy nods, quipping out a quick 'I'm going to grab one last thing,' before running off again. I get in line and begin to unload my cart, noticing a few teens looking at the magazine, whispering. Once Paddy is back at my side, I nudge him further into the line, "Can you unpack the front?" He only nods, glancing in the direction of the giggling girls. Thankfully the two of us make it out of the store without any questions and walk the few blocks back to the apartment.

While Paddy goes to sit in the living room to sit with Tess and Phoebe, I unpack and start cooking. Once I had everything set up, I grab my laptop and make sure Skype is set up before texting him and seeing if he was busy.

-----

Spooderman<3

Just taking a break

I would love to hear from you

My Princess

I'm hoping you can skype?

It's important

Spooderman<3

Of course

-----

I text him the pictures before starting the call, hoping he has his computer too. And from the way he has his head tilted down when he answers, tells me, thankfully, he does. "Hi, baby."

His head snaps up, giving me a bright smile. "Hey, lovey. Are you okay? I just got those pictures."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Uh, Paddy found them while we were at the market, so I wanted to make sure you knew."

"I'll call my agent and see if there is any way to clear it up; it should be up to us to tell everyone, not some tabloid."

I nod at him, moving the laptop to the other counter so I can go back to cooking. "Okay, do you think I should worry about it at all?"

"No, no one should bother you, and if they do call Harrison or Tuwaine. They can come get you and tell my fans that you are a friend of ours until I get back and we can talk more about it." He shakes his head, his hands falling back to his phone. "I'm going to call my agent really quick, it shouldn't take too long."

I let out a hum as I continue cooking, Tom placing his phone to his ear. As he talks, I can tell he is annoyed, noting the way that he repeats 'There really is nothing that can be done?' back into the speaker. I move out of frame to wash the veggies while Tom continues to talk quietly. Finally, I can hear him hang-up, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Baby, its fine. We'll be okay." I tell him, noticing him shake his head.

"I just don't want it to escalate while I am away." His hand going to his hair as he pushes it out of his face, "My fans can be a bit much."

"I'll be fine, like you said I can just call the boys. Actually," I lean into the frame, giving Tom a bright smile. "Guess who is sitting in our living room right now?"

Tom lets out a hum, placing a hand over his mouth in 'deep' thought. "Well, I know it's not Sam or Harry; maybe my Mum?"

"Nope," I giggle, only for Tom's eyes to go wide and he lets out a loud laugh.

"Uh, (Y/N)?" I turn and start to giggle at Paddy, who is leaned slightly forward so Phoebe won't fall off his shoulders where she is perched. "I need help, I think she is stuck."

"Oh Phoebes, you sure have gotten yourself into a pickle, huh?" I walk over and help the cat declaw herself from Paddy's shoulder.

"So I am going to make a second attempt and say it was Paddy in our living room." Tom teases once Paddy is free.

He walks over and places himself on the counter across from the stove, smiling at his brother. "Mum and Dad are on holiday, so (Y/N) and I are hanging out."

"Having fun?"

Paddy nods, going into a long, in depth explanation of what we had done the past few days.

When Nikki had asked if he could stay, I panicked. However, it was only because Tom and I hadn't set up the other rooms. Nikki assured me that he would be fine, but after an afternoon of checking some second hand shops (because I still wasn't comfortable shopping for big things without Tom, cause it's a lot more from his paycheck than mine); we found a nice bedroom set. Tom's parents were so thankful, especially since he had some summer programs that he wanted to attend. But, we were family now, and family meant that we helped each other out.

I smile watching the two of them interact. Tom nodding and telling Paddy about things that were happening on his end as well; but, it didn't take long for someone to pop their head into Tom's trailer to tell him he had to be back on set.

"I have to go, you be good, Pads. And, love?" Tom looks at me with an expression that screams a lot more than just 'I love you'; it says 'I'm worried', 'I miss you', 'I want to be home', and 'God, I just need to hold you'.

"Yes, Tom?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

He leans closer to the screen, "Please call someone if something happens, okay? I want you safe."

"I will, you stay safe too."

He smiles before giving us both one last wave, ending the call; the black screen reminding me that I had a lot of time till he would really be home.

I stretch my arms over my head before clapping my hands and look at the youngest Holland. "You know, if you help me, this'll be done a lot sooner-"

He hops off the counter, moving toward the sink ready to wash his hands, "How can I help?" ~

I was up most of the night. I could feel the anxiety creeping in my chest, like when you know you have a test the next day that you wish you would have studied a little harder for but you didn't and now it's too late. I got up several times during the night, the last straw being at three forty-seven in the morning. There was no way I was going to fully fall asleep, so I got up and decided to make myself a cup of tea. While the kettle was getting hot, I began looking up any other articles about Tom and I on the internet.

Stories about the blurry photos of Tom and I were surfacing everywhere. Eventually, I turned on my Instagram and started to scroll through the explore page, finding a few fan pages with the blurry photo as well; but besides that nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, only to jump at the sound of the kettle going off. I quickly make the cup before retreating to the couch, turning on Netflix, where I eventually fell asleep.

It wasn't until Tessa nudged my hand and lapped a couple kisses to my face did I wake up an hour later. I sigh, rolling off the couch and slipping my feet into a pair of shoes, which in my half-asleep state, I was unsure if they were mine or Tom's. Once Tessa was taken care of, I prep breakfast and let Tess into Paddy's room to wake him.

"It's too early," he whines as Tessa laps at his face.

"Well, I have to get to work, and your thing doesn't start for a few more hours." I state, getting ready to walk away, but not before adding, "I'm making breakfast." I can hear him groan again, but with the creak of the mattress as well. I smile, making my way down the hall to finish cooking.

Paddy gives me a quick hug before walking up the street to his friend's house as the two of us leave the flat. "I'll text you when I get there; you want me at the clinic after or to head to the flat?"

"Only head to the flat if someone is willing to drop you off," he scoffs as I continue, "I know, I know. You're old enough to do things on your own but for my paranoid mind-"

"I'll keep you in the loop, promise." He nods, pulling his backpack straps away from his body as he walks backwards. "I'll see you; love you, (Y/N)!"

"Love you too, Pads!" I giggle, turning the opposite way and walking to work. The whole way I check around my surroundings. Once I am in the parking lot I notice a car sitting in the far end of it. I raise an eyebrow at it before entering, calling out a quick 'good morning' to the Wilma working at the front. She smiles at me as I pass to set my stuff in the group office before checking my caseload for the day. Today will be a good day, I remind myself.

When I finally make it home, Harrison and Paddy are sat comfortably on the couch eating pizza. "Hey, boys," I hum, rubbing the top of Paddy's head before hugging Haz over the back of the couch, "Thank you, I appreciate this-"

"Not a problem, also, Tom filled me in on your situation."

"Well, I'm glad for that-"

Paddy cuts me off, mouth still full of cheesy goodness, "And I told him that you are on edge because of it-"

"Thanks, Paddy." I roll my eyes as I walk into the kitchen and grab a slice of pizza before making my way down the hallway and change out of my scrubs. Finally in comfy clothes, I return to the kitchen and grab another piece before jumping on the couch with the boys to watch the movie with them.

As the night gets later, Harrison helps me clean up while Paddy gets ready for bed. Harrison watches me as I move, and he notices the way I keep glancing at my phone. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just-" I cut myself off to rub my hand down my face, "Worried. I don't know."

"You shouldn't have to, but we are here if you need anything, I swear."

"And I hope you know that I really appreciate that."

Harrison smiles, carefully tugging me into his arms to hug me. It's comforting, and it reminds me of my brothers. I should call them soon, I miss them. I squeeze him a little tighter before letting him go. He lets out a small sigh before stating that he should probably head back to his flat, he had to be up early the next morning. I walked him out, locking the door behind him since he had taken the liberty earlier to take Tess out for her 'before bed wee'.

Paddy comes back to the living room to say goodnight, hugging me tightly before making his way down the hall, Phoebe hot on his heels. I rub my hands over my face as I scroll through my phone, checking my usual apps before bed.

While back on the explore page on Instagram, I notice a new picture. No, several new pictures.  Most were far away, but I could one-hundred percent tell it was us; especially the ones from Disney. I bite my lip as I read the caption of a cluster of photos. They were when Tom and I were at Epcot, most likely in Germany because he had a beer in hand that in one of the pictures I took a sip from.

Thought I was crazy, but now that I have seen the pictures on People Magazine, I can 100% confirm that @tomholland2013 had to have been on a vacation with his secret girlfriend.

I shake my head before deciding to close out of the app and head to bed. I grab one of Tom's sweaters off the dresser where it had been thrown weeks ago, and pull it under the covers with me. I nuzzle my face into the fabric and send a little prayer to whoever is listening to help me sleep.

Just let me sleep, and I can pretend that everything is okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reblog and comment! I hope this upcoming week you have the best time.

@revenantwriting | @bellagrayson-wayne | @jackiehollanderr | @snowxbarryxendgame | @let-me-luve-you | @mybitchborky | @linnyalou | @fanficscuziranout​ | @literallytrashhhhhh | @akweenbitch | @marveltomjunkie | @infinitycaprogers

Can’t Let Her Go

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader | Word Count: 1.5k | Warnings: 18+ ONLY, (m)asterbastion, male receiving oral, vaginal sex, angst | Song Inspiration: Heroin - Badflower [music video is NSFW] | A/N: This is a follow up to Howl With Your Eyes 

Days had gone by and she wouldn’t look at him. Bucky yearned for her heated gaze to boil the blood under his skin, it was the only thing that made him feel alive anymore. She avoided brushing past him in the halls or the common spaces. All he ever got was a glimpse of the ends of her hair following her fleeting figure around a corner. His hands itched to take her in his arms, to thrust her up against a wall, to tangle his fingers in her silky locks.

She had made it clear they needed to stop. The morning after the mission in the hotel room he woke up to sun pouring in on his face and her side of the bed cold. She was sitting on the armchair facing the bed, chewing her nails to the quick and tears staining her cheeks.

“We’re toxic. Like heroin.”

There had been a fight, Bucky had thrown a lamp against the wall and she had stormed out with her bags to the extraction point without him. Heroin was addicting and he was beyond addicted to her.

Bucky laid awake, splayed out across his too soft bed, chasing the sleep that eluded him. He couldn’t stop thinking of her; of how soft her skin is and how it glows under his touch, of how the scent of her perfume burned through his body like the bastardized serum they pumped in his veins, how his name sounded when she exhaled it so soft and wanton through her plump lips.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying so hard to gather his sanity and control back, but instead he slid his flesh hand down his torso before slipping it under the band of his sweatpants. He was already half hard, it’s hard to not think about the things you’re trying to rid your brain of. It’s almost counterproductive; he didn’t want to think about the way her breasts bounced as she rode him to climax so he had to focus on that image before he could actively never think about it again.

He had to get her out of his head, he would bleed her from his veins if that’s what it took. All he could picture was her round ass pressed against his hips as he sheathed himself fully inside of her, how soft her skin is as he squeezes the globes in his palms. He gripped himself tighter and stroked faster as the images of her face in pure ecstasy and release flicked behind his closed eyelids and with a white hot flash and a clench of his abdomen muscles he was coming in hot, thick ropes across his stomach and chest.

With a shaky breath, he ignored the flash of self-loathing and regret and loss that followed his climax and cracked his eyes open. Of course she wouldn’t love him, it was foolish of him to even tell her. He probably scared her off, saying it so much, but he couldn’t help it. He loved her with every part of him, every crack in his soul, and with every dark corner of his being.

He stiffened when he saw her sitting in the armchair in the corner of his room. She was wrapped in a white silk robe and her knees were pulled up to her chest. Her eyes flashed coyly at his frozen form as she uncoiled herself like a svelte forest cat and stalked her way over to the bed.

“You started without me, Sergeant.”

It wasn’t a question so Bucky didn’t answer. His gaze flicked nervously to his bedroom door and saw that it was indeed unlocked. Did Steve let her into the apartment they shared? She followed his gaze and quirked a perfectly sculpted brow in his direction. “I’m an assassin, Barnes,” she reminded him sliding her long fingers up his calves and onto his thighs, pressing her fingers into the thick muscle and into sensitive pressure points. His muscles twitched in response and his breath hitched.

“Doll?” he croaked, his throat tight and his chest constricting.

“You gotta be quiet, baby. Cap doesn’t know I’m here.”

She lowered her lips to his groin and licked a long stripe along his softening cock, cleaning it of his lust. It twitched automatically with interest and Bucky didn’t bother to bite back the soft moan that fell from his lips. He buried his fingers in her thick hair as she moved north and ran her tongue over his abs to lick up the cooling fluid that striped his stomach.

“Baby doll, you’re killing me. You’ve been ignoring me all week. Where’ve you been?” Bucky begged as she moved down to hip and sucked a deep purple mark against his Adonis’ Belt.

She ignored him and instead took him deep in her throat, she hummed softly and the vibrations shook him all the way up his spine. He arched his back into her, tightening his fingers in her hair and pressing himself even further down her throat. Her tongue pressed hard against the underside of his shaft and her fingers dug into his hips, he took that as a sign to loosen his grip and she bobbed up slightly for air.

She started a brutal pace, sucking hard and fast and bringing him right to the edge of climax before pulling off of him with a wet pop that had him gasping and seeing stars, forcing himself to bite back his orgasm.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Bucky gasped and she smirked up at him, her eyes flashing with mischief.

She sat back on her knees and let her robe fall from her shoulders; a blush pink silk night gown hugged her curves and fell to the tops of her thighs, the lace cuffs hugged her breasts tight. He could see her dark nipples through the lace, pebbled hard against the delicate lace flowers. Bucky groaned in want and sat up, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him, his hands fisted in the sleek material and pulling it over her head. Her hair caught in the night gown before shaking free and falling down her back and over her chest in waves.

With his flesh hand he cupped her cheek, which was flushed pink and just as soft as the rest of her, before sliding up into the hair and tangling his fingers in the silky tresses. He brought her lips to his and kissed her deeply, his tongue pressing push her lips and tasting himself inside of her. When his lungs screamed and ached he pulled back, both of their chests heaving for air as he pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you so much,” he whispered desperately as he stared intensely into her eyes before rolling her over onto her back.

He didn’t wait for a response he knew wouldn’t come as he bit marks into the side of her neck. She moaned his name and dug her nails into his shoulder as he pushed himself inside of her velvet heat.

“Fuck, James,” she moaned under him as her grip tightened on his shoulder blades.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky murmured into her skin.

Sliding his vibranium hand between them he rubbed little circles around her clit. He could feel her walls flutter around him and knew she was close, burying his face in her neck he bit down on the spot where her neck and shoulder joined. With a cry of his name she came around him, clenching his cock and sending him over the edge. With a few last staggering pumps he emptied into her and managed to keep himself held up with his flesh arm over her head to keep from collapsing on her.

Bringing his face back up to hers he bumped his nose into hers and which brought her gaze back to him. He watched as she refocused on him as she came down, her vision sharpening behind the cloud of lust.

“Y/N. I love you whether you love me back or not,” Bucky whispered, hoping to convey to her how much he meant it. How much she owned him, how far into his soul she had pushed herself.

Her eyes softened and when she opened her mouth to answer him Steve’s voice calling his name came out from behind her lips.

The sound of banging on his bedroom door had Bucky opening his eyes. He sat up, cold sweat coating his skin, the sheets and his sweat pants sticking to him. He looked around in confusion, not seeing her, not littered with her marks on his skin, Steve banging on his bedroom door. Bucky stood on shaking knees and unlocked his bedroom door, opening it to Steve’s concerned face.

“Were you having a nightmare?” Steve asked, his voice heavy with sleep on and confusion.

Bucky sucked in a quaky breath and looked down at his feet, biting back tears of heartache and frustration. He looked up at Steve, not being able to keep them from slipping down his face. “Worse.”

Pines

Pines is the first book in the adult mystery/ sci-fi series Wayward Pines written by Blake Crouch. It follows Secret Service Agent Ethan Burke, who wakes up in the small town of Wayward Pines in Idaho, with no memory of who he is, how he got there or even his name. After a few incidents, he regains his memory, but realizes that nothing is as it seems in the idyllic small town, and either everyone is in on a conspiracy or he really is losing his mind. I’ve read one other book by Crouch, Dark Matter and I really didn’t like it. So I was apprehensive going into this series, especially knowing that it was specifically his writing style and characters that I didn’t like; the issue is, Crouch has such interesting and unique premises for his stories, and this one was no different. I have also seen an episode of the show and it looked good (after reading the book, I won’t be watching it), so I wanted to at least read the first book in the series. I am happy to say that I liked this significantly more; not enough to continue the series, but enough to where I was reading out of intrigue, not hatred. I still had major issues with the plot of the novel, as well as Crouch’s writing, but I preferred following Agent Burke, than whatever the professor's name was in Dark Matter. The best way to describe this book is Twin Peaks, mixed with Lost and the Village. It’s a dystopian setting that looks straight out of the Stepford Wives; a small town in Idaho, the idyllic representation of small town Americana, surrounded by nature, with people who all have their place in town and are content with it. Agent Burke comes into town, looking for two missing secret agents: what he finds instead is a nightmare dressed like a daydream (yes, I hate myself too). At first, he has no idea who he is, how he got to the town, or why he’s injured; all he knows is that he has a paralyzing fear from the hospital and just remembers the name Mack. When he does regain more of his memories, he starts to see that people in the town are all acting strange: no one wants to speak to him, they give him faulty or outright false information, he can’t find his badge, his wallet or ID, he can’t reach anyone outside the town and when he tries to escape, he sees that the road curves back into the town and there is no way out. While all of this sounds very interesting, it was actually incredibly frustrating to read. I will give credit to Burke; he actually acts like a normal human would in this situation, asks questions that I found reasonable, gets angry, gets frustrated, which is a giant step up from other works I’ve read where the characters just don’t act human. I still didn’t enjoy the way these conversations went; it felt like being stuck in a poorly written RPG where all the dialogue is circular and the game outright refuses to let you ask the one question that would solve the plot (so a Bethesda game). What I found more frustrating was how the way people treat Burke, especially the sheriff, makes no sense, once we learn Wayward Pines’ secret. I’ll talk more about that at the end, but if we don’t know the twist, the way Burke is being treated is counterproductive to what the sheriff supposedly wants. He wants Burke to stop trying to cause a ruckus, but he’s not letting him leave town, he isn’t giving him his wallet back, won’t let him eat food, has him wander round the town with no detail to keep him in check so.. What’s the point? The stuff that annoyed me about Dark Matter annoyed me here as well. First we have the paper-thin, boring ass female characters. There were 4 notable ones: the nurse, who was the only character I liked because she actually had a personality (power hungry, but still a personality); Kate, the agent who Burke is looking for and had an affair with; Beverly, a local who ends up helping Burke; and Theressa his doting, entirely loyal and personality free wife. I hate the way Crouch writes his female characters, and I also hate how he views marriage. Theressa is so supportive, so self-sacrificing, so completely devoted to Burke that she has NO personality outside of being his wife. Moreover, Burke has cheated on her, been an absent husband, absent parent, has a host of other unrelated trauma that he seems to have never shared with her, that I was beginning to think she was married to someone else. All the sections with her bore me to tears; she’s worse than a cardboard cutout, she’s like an overly attached robot. Then we have Kate and Beverly. Kate is the lover; we know nothing about her other than she now married someone else and like all women Crouch writes, she is completely devoted to her new husband, but would still, secretly tap dat ass, even if it would put her life in danger. Luckily she doesn’t, though I have a feeling it’s because she’s supposed to be like 80 years old. Beverly flirts with Burke, breaks him out of a hospital, solves the case for him, and then gets brutally and unceremoniously killed because she has outlived her usefulness. As for the lead man himself, you’ll be shocked to learn I actually liked him! I know, I liked a male character, who am I? Jokes aside, I found Agent Burke to be a fascinating character. He is all the worst things; he is an adulterer, a bad husband, and an absent father, volatile and stubborn. He is also a veteran who fought in the Gulf Wars and was a PoW, who was brutally tortured. The most effective and affecting scenes in this entire book where the scenes where he flashes back to what happened to him during his captivity, and how his interactions with the sheriff mirrored that. His torturer is a walking, talking cliche; a sadistic, implied to be gay, half-white, half-Arabic man (I half expected his name to be Sayid since we are ripping off Lost so thoroughly). But their interactions and the trauma Burke carries made his character click for me, and I understood why he did the things he did, and made me root for him. Let’s talk about those reveals, so warning SPOILERS. First, we find out that we are actually in the future; Wayward Pines is supposedly the last town on Earth. Humans have evolved (if I had a coin for every time an author didn’t understand evolution) into incredibly intelligent and vicious beasts who roam the Earth like a zombie horde, and Pines was developed as an experiment by a multi billionaire genius scientist. First, we are going to ignore the fact that humans can’t just evolve into monsters like that unprompted, or that the timeline is simply not long enough for that to be the case. We are just going to focus on the sheer dumfuckery that is this concept. This man, hand selected humans from different eras of mankind starting with the 60s, and yet somehow there are 5 people who are all from Burke’s time in this town, who all know each other. K. Second, the way these people are integrated in the town is that they are told their name and where they will work and who they will marry(?), and if they start remembering their past lives, they get threatened by the sheriff. If they break the rules, like try to escape or remove their trackers, the entire town makes a LITERAL PURGE where they are hunted down and brutally killed. Burke was ‘integrated’ 3 separate times because he was so valuable, and kept almost getting himself killed, but other humans? The last humans on Earth? Fuck their life, let’s do some KILLIN! If Burke was so important (and I never once for a second believed he was actually crazy, it was as ineffective of a twist as it was in Glass) why is everyone in the town constantly trying to kill him? He almost dies when he gets attacked by the mutated humans, he is constantly starved, he gets tortured, beaten and at one point they try to LOBOTOMIZE him, and yet the scientist’s grand plan was to make Burke the new sheriff? What? His wife and son are used taken so they can be leverage over him, and yet he is constantly almost killed. Also all those soldiers in the compound… do they also live in Pines? Do they know about the outside world? Or are they always in the compound? And then Burke just gets made to be sheriff and that’s the end. Yeah… no. I was not a fan, in case you couldn’t tell. If you are a lot more forgiving of these things, check it out; perhaps the premise will be strong enough to hook you at the expense of everything else. I will not be continuing the series nor reading anything else by Crouch; we just don’t get along and it’s time for me to stop trying.

goodreads

I’ve been on a streak of good book picks but it finally ended.......I made the mistake of reading this one and now I’m so peeved that I have to rant about it lol

I don’t want to outright name the book bc I would feel bad so if u wanna know DM me (off anon). I mistakenly thought it was on my to-read list so I bought since it was on sale. Big mistake. Will be trying to return it. To be fair, I DID read the entire thing but ONLY out of the hope that it would get better. And I’m sure y’all can tell that no, it did not get better.

What’s it about: a witch and a witch hunter get married, but the witch hunter doesn’t know she’s a witch and the witch married him to protect herself from other witches. Yes it’s hella hetero. It mentioned lesbians once and it was probably just to throw it in there for shits and giggles. 

Narratives: for whatever reason the book is written in first person pov which is like. Fine. But why the narratives switch between the witch and the witch hunter was in my opinion completely useless. The idea of having different perspectives tell the story is to gain information that another pov wouldn’t give. The whole story could’ve been from the POV of the witch and it would’ve given the same info. More so, it already was mostly the witch POV anyway. My point is, this book could’ve absolutely been read way more smoothly had it been not first person pov in general.

Style: I literally thought i was reading a poorly written fanfic. It was like bringing every known ao3 trope under the same story. They tried to make it dramatic by having short sentences and one line paragraphs but I’m sorry, it gets old after the first three times you do it, let alone writing the WHOLE book like this. And btw, this intends no offense to fanfics - what I mean by fanfics is the context under which fanfics are written: they are stories all about well-established, fleshed out and deep characters within an intricate, built-up world. Meanwhile, this book was entirely written as if it was a fanfic - there was no world building, no deep characters or development. I will get into this more so in my following points.

Characters: am I supposed to hate every character? I do tend to get attached fairly easily, but come on, no character was in depth enough for me to even latch on. The main characters had no real “built up” revelations or developments. The witch was supposed to “go against the norms of womanhood” which is extremely boring considering how often it’s done. Sorry! I have the audacity to think that we’ve already moved past these issues! Moreover, if you’re gonna try to make her a badass, WHY is she still being saved by the guy? Why is she so powerless when it comes down to the most crucial moments? Why is the guy still being protective, why is he wiping her tears, etc ??? Going further onto this point - okay, you wanna have this feminist witch cult and want to show that women deserve to be treated better, then WHY the HELL are you making literally all of them the bad guys??? This is counterproductive. And the witch hunter? Lame. I felt no heroism from him despite the fact that his character was literally supposed to be “the hero” of the witch hunters. All other side characters: it’s like they get introduced, appear only to move the story along, and that’s it. They have no real relevance besides their existence in a certain scenes. There were “attempts” to forge their bonds with the main characters, to show how they’re related or what their relationships are like, but this was long forgotten after the first few chapters of the book. Again, the plot only revolved around the sexual tension of the main characters; the side characters’ motivations, their actions, their relevance to the story was completely undermined. 

Plot: the “plot” was clearly irrelevant and unimportant when compared to the sexual tension between the witch and the witch hunter. Like apparently the sexual tension or the “romantic progression” of the two was most important. And I say “romantic progression” in quotations because, what the hell, it was SO poorly executed. Like they basically fell for each other after they had sex. Everything leading up to it was a bunch of bullshit. None of their flirting could be considered “witty banter”, it was a half-assed attempt at such and all it did was make me roll my eyes so often I got a headache. Nothing in the story’s plot built on each other, it was a bunch of “and this happened, and then this happened” etc. What was supposed to be the plot was forgotten for more than half the story where you’re forced to read about how they “fell” in love. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind love stories. But at the very least you have to make the ride worth while. For the first maybe 70 pages there is introductions of characters and you see the general line of the story, for the next 300 pages it is all about the sexual tension - the plot is completely forgotten - finally, around the 400 page mark you’re back to the plot. Now you might say “hey! that’s still some semblance of a plot”. Ok. Except the fact that everything that happened was like someone pulling random answers out of each minor character’s asses. The book had to end at some point, right? Well for the final climax ending of the story, EVERYTHING was pulled out of someone’s ass. I had hoped for the sake of this book that the ending would shake me out of this state of constantly rolling my eyes, but the more I read on, the more I ended up skipping literal paragraphs because I was so damn tired of this book. Pretty sure the ending was made up at the last minute just to end the damn thing, but that’s just me! 

Final Thoughts: The wildest thing about this to me is that this book is apparently popular, majority of the ratings are 5 stars. To me, this was a waste of my time but I don’t have the heart to give it 0/5 bc even I took the damn effort to read the whole thing. 1/5 stars. What the FUCK did I just read

Deal With It (2/2)

Rival Poker Players AU.  Emma Swan, poker hustler with more than just card tricks up her sleeve, meets Killian Jones, a fellow gambler, at a shady little casino down south. After a memorable first encounter, they seem to keep finding each other, but are they really ready to gamble with their hearts? Emma just doesn’t know if she can deal with it.

Rating: T for swearing and innuendo, Word Count ~2800 (this chapter)

[AO3 link] [Chapter 1]

A/N:This is not where I meant to end the story. I think we can end it here and be ok, but I also have about two more chapters worth of ideas for this AU. So, here's the deal: we'll say this is done for now, and there may be a sequel or bonus material if I ever get around to it.

This chapter is dedicated to @snowbellewells for her beta-ing and encouragement and to @wheres-your-rum for a really great liveblog the other day that made me think maybe I should keep posting things.  Thanks guys!

It's not like Emma was looking for Hook. Not really. It's just that it’s kind of hard to avoid someone if you don't know where they are. So, she kept a casual ear open for mentions of his name. Casually. And someone might have casually mentioned in passing that he might be playing in a tournament in Deadwood. Obviously she had to come here and check it out - to make sure her informational sources were accurate. Or something.

It isn't like she's going to let him see her. That would be incredibly counterproductive. She did take the guy for a few grand after all. Not that it didn't kind of serve him right because who the hell keeps that kind of cash on them? But still… better if he never actually sees her. She did the jail thing once. No intentions of going back.

Then again, she has been doing a lot better at the tables since their little encounter. Honestly, at the rate she's winning, she'll have enough money saved up for her entry fee for Vegas a month ahead of time. It's almost like robbing him ( kissing him ) changed her luck for the better. Gamblers are nothing if not superstitious creatures. Maybe, possibly, one more rendezvous and a little bit more good luck will rub off on her. Yep. Luck. That’s what she wants to rub off.

Besides, he was winning last time. That really chaps her ass. Like she told him, she was having an off day. A good run of bad luck. She needs a rematch to settle the score. Take him down a notch. He really is too damn cocky for his own good, all that swagger and smirk. Except that his swaggering, smirking self doesn’t seem to be here.

Emma turns slowly on her bar stool, swirling the teensy plastic sword piercing the olives in her dirty martini and holding in her huff of annoyance as she surveys the gaming tables, once again finding them Hook-free. Hookless? Whatever.

Emma lifts the little sword to her mouth and slides an olive off with her teeth. Maybe her timing is just off. It looks like a few of the tournament tables are on a break between rounds, but she’s getting antsy. Maybe she should down the rest of her drink and head to another casino. She’s wearing her favorite little red dress tonight, the one that hugs every curve. She is here to work after all. It’s not like she wore it for anyone in particular. It’s for the marks. It shouldn’t be hard for her to pick up a few-

“Now be a good girl and play along, because you bloody well owe me.”

Emma nearly chokes on her olive and that’s probably the only thing that keeps her from whirling around and punching Hook in the face. How the fuck did he manage to sneak up on her?

She coughs, clearing the traces of olive from her windpipe, and the hot breath on the shell of her ear turns to a quick peck on the cheek. She’s furious that he got the drop on her, but she doesn’t know what kind of game he’s playing yet, so she reins it in. Hook steps around to face her, a wide, innocent smile curving his lips, though his eyes are deadly serious.

“Darling, so sorry for startling you, but I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I was just telling these nice gentlemen here-” he gestures to the pair of brutes walking up behind him, “that I couldn’t possibly play a hand without my favorite lucky charm.”

Emma gives him a saccharine smile. “Would that be the blue diamonds or purple horseshoes?”

Hook barks out a forced laugh. “Ha! See boys? That’s why I love her. That delightful sense of humor. Now, if you lads will excuse me for a moment, I’ll join you at the table presently.” He claps one of the men on the shoulder and they amble away to take seats at one of the poker tables leaving Emma and Hook alone.

Hook watches them go, making sure they’re settled and not paying attention to him anymore before he turns again to Emma, that familiar smirk back in its rightful place.

Emma's vapid expression falls away, quickly replaced with an annoyed glare. “You’re pretty damn pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

"Careful, sweetheart , they could look our way at any moment," Hook warns with a wicked grin. "And yes, I rather am. Fancy seeing you here. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Panic flashes through her at the question. Oh, you know, just low-key stalking you so I’d never have to see you again which is completely logical and not at all creepy. She hopes he can’t read the real answer on her face, but thankfully he chooses that moment to reach out with his hook and brush a lock of hair back from her shoulder. The easy familiarity of the gesture irritates her - irritation is much easier to deal with than the way his stupid blue eyes are doing things to her stomach - so she deepens her scowl and does what she does best: deflect and distract.

"Oh, no. No. We're not talking about me right now. What kind of scam are you running on the Big and Scary twins?" She gestures subtly with her almost empty drink to Hook's companions. Tall, broad and with matching ginger hair indicating some kind of familial relationship, each man looks as though he could bench press a horse.

"The Stabbington brothers over there - and yes, so help me that's their true surname - seem to think I owe them the opportunity to win back the considerable sum of money that they lost to me over a game of dice."

"Were said dice loaded?”

He cocks an eyebrow and shrugs. “Not that they know of.”

“And this all has what to do with me?" Emma crosses her arms beneath her breasts and doesn’t miss the flicker of his eyes down to her cleavage.

"Well, first of all, I'd like for them to be thinking about your neckline rather than their cards when you come over and kiss me on the neck in a few minutes."

"And then?" Emma didn’t miss the brightening of his expression that she hadn’t outright refused his scheme.

"And then I'd like an extra set of eyes on them to make sure they don't attempt to live up to their name when I win again."

Emma nods. "So you want me to watch your back while they’re watching my front. Got it. And you couldn't have just asked me without scaring the shit out of me first?"

Hook narrows his eyes. "Given the nature of our last encounter, I didn't wish to give you the chance to get away. You do owe me, Swan, and don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."

Emma fixes him with her most sarcastic smile. "I'd despair if you did." She huffs a sigh. "What if I’m not interested? You don’t really have me in a helping mood right now, pal."

"I suppose I could report you to security and get you banned from every casino in town."

Emma's eyes widen and she lowers her voice to a threatening hiss. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I'm quite daring, love. Don't you doubt that. But…” He pauses, letting his eyes roam over her face, studying her. “I think you are interested, and I'd much rather work with you than against you. I propose a bargain. Simple, really. You help me and I'll give you a cut of whatever I win."

"Half."

"Not a chance. 80-20. My 80, your 20 to be clear."

"Not worth it. 60-40."

Hooks features twist into a tight-lipped grimace of annoyance. "If we stand here arguing, you'll be getting 100% of nothing, as will I. Although I may get the parting gift of a broken limb from our friends over there. I'm already down one appendage, I'd prefer to keep those that remain in top form."

Emma leans back against the bar and slowly sips the last of her cocktail. "Then quit arguing with me and give me 40%."

Hook drops his head in defeat, and Emma beams knowing she’s won. He lifts his eyes to hers again, and she’s sure he’s trying to be all commanding and intense, but she can see a hint of mirth dancing in those baby blues. The bastard is actually looking forward to this.

"Fine. But you'd better earn it, love. I need you to be quite convincing as the adoring girlfriend. Feel free to let your hands wander. Don’t be afraid to, you know, really get into it.”

He says it with a scrunch of his nose that has Emma rolling her eyes, but some traitorous part of her is kind of looking forward to this, too. She’s a gambler for God’s sake, the prospect of a little danger and intrigue fires up her pulse. She hasn’t run a two-person job since…

And just like that the spark fizzles out. Hook seems to notice the change, but doesn’t comment, only cants his head to the side in question. Emma braces herself, her old defenses rising, but he doesn’t ask. He just snaps his own mask back into place, and gives her thigh a squeeze as he leans in close to her. Her heartbeat begins racing again, but this time for a very different reason.

“Now be a good lass buy us another round. My tab’s open, and I’ll have anything with rum."

Emma has to admit to herself (though certainly not to him ) that she really did enjoy their little game. After getting the drinks, she’d gone with his original request and sashayed over the table, bending very deliberately at the waist to set the glasses down. Rather than immediately taking her seat next to Hook, she’d moved behind his chair, leaning down to loosely drape her arms around his neck and letting the fingers of her right hand slide inside the open collar of his shirt. Not too far - just enough so she could feel the increasing thrum of his heartbeat when she nuzzled into his neck and grazed a kiss across the corded muscle of his throat. He’d swallowed hard as she drew back, her nails scratching through the coarse hair on his chest as she retracted her hand. She’d smiled to herself at that, and couldn’t help leaning close one more time to whisper in his ear, “ For luck .”

Watching Hook play without having to be concerned about playing against him was truly educational. His powers of perception impressed her, and the few tells and signals he seemed to miss, she was able to silently communicate to him with a subtle glance, brush of her hand or nudge to his leg. He never ignored her cues, either, trusting her instincts as much as his own. Well, except that one time…

“Why the devil did you make me throw that last hand, Swan? I had them!”

It’s hours later and with several hundred dollar bills tucked into her bra, Emma sits next to Hook at the bar for a celebratory drink.

“I didn’t make you do anything. You chose to fold-”

“After you slid your hand up my leg all the way to my-”

“You said feel free to let my hands wander.”

Hook leans toward her and raises a dark eyebrow in challenge. “And how is a man supposed to concentrate when you’re taking such liberties with him? You knew I would fold.”

Emma leans in as well, propping her elbow on the bar. “I knew you needed to fold. You’d won too many hands. I’d already sweet talked the one with the gold teeth into backing down when he started reaching for the knife in his boot. I didn’t want to have to schmooze the one with the eye-patch, too.”

Hook laughs lightly at that. “You were bloody brilliant, Swan. Those dolts were powerless against you.”  

He’s practically beaming at her with something that looks almost like pride, and Emma has no idea what to do with that. She doesn’t know what to do with him at all. He’s her competition, but here they are working together - pretty seamlessly if she’s honest about it. And what’s with all this supportive crap? She’s used to guys wanting something from her, to use her to stroke their ego or their cock. But this guy? She can tell he’s attracted to her, but all this other stuff - the listening to her, the actually seeming impressed with her - it’s confusing and unsettling.

To make matters worse, he’s just as likable, kissable, fuckable, everything- able as she remembered, and lord, has she been remembering. As much as she tries NOT to think about it, their kiss drifts into her mind at the most inopportune times. Like right now.

She takes a sip of her gin and tonic (no more olives for her tonight), and brushes off his compliment. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I saved your ass.”

“Cheers to that.” He raises his glass and she clinks hers against it, but before he drinks, he asks, “How did you know he had a knife in his boot?”

Emma had been waiting for this question and times her answer just as he’s taking his sip of rum. “I was playing footsie with him under the table.”

Hook half chokes on his drink and splutters, “You what?”

Gotcha.  Emma shrugs, letting a little of her internal gloating show on her face. “Hey, you told me to keep them distracted. You were no help at all.” She flicks her wrist to backhand him on the shoulder. “You kept antagonizing him! You’re a really shitty damsel in distress, you know that?”

Hook chuckles, rubbing his hook gingerly over the imaginary bruise she’s apparently left on his arm, then leans closer and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ah, but I make up for it with my many other talents.”

His voice is laden with innuendo, and it’s cheesy as hell, and yet it’s all Emma can do to stop herself from shifting in her seat at the mental images he inspires. She manages to limit her outward physical response to a dramatic eye roll.  “Hm. At least you won enough money to make this worthwhile.”

“Aye, that I did. You know, I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

Emma stiffens at the word ‘team’, unwanted memories from her past returning for the second time tonight. “I work alone. This was a-”

“One-time thing? I seem to have heard that before.”

Emma ignores him, trying to change the subject. “What were you doing playing absolutely-not-loaded dice with those guys anyway? I thought you were supposed to be here for the poker tournament.”

She sees the change in his expression the second her words register and clenches her glass until her knuckles turn white, cursing herself internally for the slip.

“And how would you know I was entered in the tourney?”

Emma presses on. “Why loaded dice? I thought you never cheated. All that bullshit about good form?”

His brows furrow in offense, and Emma relaxes a little, thinking she’s successfully diverted him again. “I don’t consider good form to be bullshit, Swan, and I never cheat at cards. But... “ and here he gives her a rather pointed look, “some pickings are a bit too easy to pass up.”

“Touche.”

“And speaking of easy pickings…” Hook looks disdainfully at the half-empty glass in his hand. “This swill is hardly worthy of our celebration, but I did happen to appropriate a very fine bottle of top shelf rum from a storage closet round back that someone had thoughtfully left unlocked.”

“Stealing rum? Loaded dice? You really are a pirate.”

Oh, and there’s the smirk, this time with added smolder. “What do you say, Swan? Fancy a nightcap?”

A little thrill runs through her at the prospect. Nope. No way. Definitely not. Terrible idea. “Yeah.” A small smile tilts the corners of her lips. “I mean, we need to keep up our cover act in case those goons are still around. We should at least be seen going upstairs together.” Dammit.

He answers with a dazzling grin and neatly steps down from his bar stool, extending his hooked arm to help her do the same. She grasps the hook and alights from her stool, but for a split second she sees emotion flash behind his eyes, gone before she can decipher it. He seems frozen in place, his face a blank slate. It takes her giving him a little tug with the hand still holding his hook to get him moving.

“Come on, pirate. Show me to the rum.”

> I’m currently working on some verses for Nocturne right now and I’m like...so what if I made a variation of the True Demon Ending? Includes spoilers, so I’m placing it under a ‘ Read More ‘.

The reason I’m making this ( pun not intended ) is because I see TDE more like an endgame goal for the whole franchise? Or at least for the main SMT series? You know, the part where the MC sides with the forces of Chaos and sets off to fight God and the powers of Law, thus leading to the ultimate showdown in the form of Law vs Chaos.

Also in TDE, you set all demons free but in the process, you’re also destroying a whole-ass omniverse in the name of freedom and stopping the Conception from ever happening again, which is like the White Ending in IV. Meaning that by killing Kagutsuchi, all universes in the entire omniverse are obliterated with no chance of recreation in the slightest of bit. Which, IMO, renders all crossovers done via TDE rather moot if there’s no other universe in the series to visit, no?

There’s also this tidbit from Belial from Devil Survivor, who stated that humans are capable of harnessing demonic power to a frightening degree. As well as Loa, in Nocturne, who stated this gem:

A human’s soul can learn, but his body is mortal A demon is immortal but his soul never changes

And those who played Strange Journey might have found Soil Jimenez ( full demon!Jimenez ) to be easier to deal with in the Law route than Awakened Jimenez ( half demon!Jimenez ) in the Neutral route, probably because of the above-mentioned quotes referencing the potential amount of strength a half-demon would have in comparison to a fully turned demon.

By casting away his humanity, he lost a great amount of potential strength and growth he could have, which is very ironic, since Chaos idolizes strength besides freedom, for its own sake. Lucifer telling the protagonist to cast away his remaining humanity in Nocturne seems a bit counterproductive IMO, mostly because of the above-mentioned quotes. Although, he could also be doing this for another reason, perhaps considering his humanity to be a weakness for where they will be heading ( read: in battle against the angels ) or...to ensure complete obedience from the MC from now on...there could be plenty of reasons he could be doing this though, the game doesn’t address them, though.

Also, Lucifer seems to be a little short-sighted in this game than others, at least in terms of planning...I mean, does he even have a failsafe option in the case his plan fails? His role in Nocturne was the following: enter a world in which the Conception is about to begin, create a new demon, nurture their development and then finally wage war against the forces of Law. IV Apocalypse shows a case where Lucifer kills his champion before he can accomplish his goal ( like with the rest of the protagonists, YHVH had a hand in this ), rendering all of his hard work completely moot as the universe is destroyed at that point of discussion.

Because I’m also watching some of Devil Survivor’s endings, I’m thinking...what if there was an ending similar to the Good Chaos 8th Day, where the MC becomes King of Bel ( in Nocturne’s case, becomes the General in Lucifer’s army ) but without forsaking their own humanity? Sure, that would require the protagonist to talk him into that condition and make him re-evaluate his plan, but it could be beneficial in the long run, huh? Also, I’m thinking of combining it with the Freedom ending, where everything ( save for the protagonist’s powers besides the lack of tattoos and the horn on his nape ) goes back to normal, except that here there are notable changes in the behaviors of some characters, namely the reason makers, but towards the positive. The condition here would be that the protagonist stops the reasons from manifesting in the first place, something you weren’t allowed to do in any version of the game, unfortunately.

To do that, he’d have to:

Convince Isamu that he’s not alone and that he doesn’t have to isolate himself from the world, which would prevent him from killing Hijiri to summon Noah in the first place.

Explain to Chiaki that strength isn’t everything, or that her philosophy would come with some serious drawbacks and consequences, such as increased paranoia and perhaps endless warfare. And do this before she kills Futomimi, ( or proceeds to massacre the Manikins ), if possible.

Snap out Yuko from her passive and delusional thought processing and encourage her to not only be proactive in her decision-making but also see that Aradia will NOT provide her a Reason, but only she can do so. Heck, she would stop Hikawa more actively that way, leading to...

Confront Hikawa by making him see how his nihilistic philosophy benefits absolutely nobody in the long run and ensure he sees the error in his thinking, with Yuko’s help especially, since she helped him kickstart the plot in the first place ( maybe a redemption arc for both is in play???).

This would lead to everyone cooperating in bringing the old world back, but with a change towards the better, even if it means having to fight Kagutsuchi for this to come true. The Freedom ending plays as usual, but with the added character development that is the following:

Isamu gradually becomes less lonely, spoiled and self-absorbed.

Chiaki is kinder, more approachable and less obsessed with social status.

Hikawa engages in causes that benefit everyone, like charities and the ilk.

Yuko is far more confident, proactive and truly independent, taking her life into her own hands.

The protagonist also gets a message from Lucifer telling him that while the world is back to normal, he’s back to his human form ( but hasn’t lost his powers ), but has to prepare himself for the ultimate battle against God and that the door to the Expanse is always open for him to visit and train there ( btw, his lymphs and horn return but only while he’s in the Expanse ), or visit other worlds to recruit more demons ( and people ) and raise an army to overthrow God and lead to the whole endgame scenario described above.

The Ticking Crocodile (The West Coast Vampires Saga #2) —Chapter 1

This is the sequel to The Breaking Point, it is necessary to the enjoyment of this story to have read The Breaking Point first.

DISCLAIMER: The places and characters featured hereinafter are the property of Warner Bros., Joel Shumacher, Janice Fischer, James Jeremias, and Jeffrey Boam and no attempt is being made by the author to claim ownership or profit from the use of the aforementioned characters. The views represented herein do not necessarily represent the views of the original authors and any character names or places mentioned in the original works belong to the copyright holders and are used in this story for nonprofit entertainment purposes by an amateur writer. The original characters used in this story are the creative property of MissMelpomene (parting writing credit goes to my brother) and are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

"Everything is so fragile. There's so much conflict, so much pain...you keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize this is it; the dust is your life going on. If happy comes along—that weird, unbearable delight that's actual happy—I think you have to grab it while you can. You take what you can get, 'cause it's here, and then...gone."

(27 days until V-day)

"It's not as hard as you're making it out to be," Dwayne said, exasperated. It was hard to tell, but for him it was exasperated.

Missy threw her hands up and let her arms fall dramatically against her thighs with a loud slap. "It's flying, Dwayne." She yanked on the brim of the soft, worn teal Seattle Mariners baseball cap she was wearing with both hands, folding the brim like a rolled up newspaper. "If it was easy, everyone could do it."

"Everyone can do it," Dwayne said pointedly.

Missy sighed with her palate. She reached up and took off her baseball cap, tightened her ponytail, then replaced it with her bangs tucked underneath. It was supposed to keep her hair out of her face, Dwayne's idea, and whether it really helped at all her remained to be seen because all it had done so far was make her sweat. "Vampires aren't everyone, Dwayne." She was wearing a mustard yellow thrift store tee shirt that said: "Michigan: State of Champions" on the front and matching bruises on her knees and ass. Her knees were scuffed and there was dried blood on the edges of the holes in her jeans.

Obviously, her flying lessons were going great.

"Laddie can do it."

Laddie's giggle was drowned out by the constant clicking of the Rubik's cube in his hands. Three days and the only side he'd completed was the one she did for him and even that had taken her the better part of an entire night.

"Is this how David motivated you to learn how to fly?" She furrowed her eyebrows, pouting. "Because it's making me feel like crap." Dwayne went to the Gunnery Sergeant Gerheim school of motivation like David. Hurting her feelings and her backside was all he'd done, but no one said being a vampire was supposed to be easy.

That's not true. Paul said it was easy, like a hundred times.

"Why do you gotta make everything into math homework?"

"What?"

"More complicated than it has to be, brains."

That was a direct quote, and if Paul was calling her out for making things harder than they had to be of all people, maybe that was a sign she was doing something wrong. I mean, the bruises on her backside said that too.

"You want to see how David taught us?" Dwayne asked.

"Wait, no, Dwayne—" he grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of her. The brim of her cap hit his back and her cap popped off like the head of a dandelion under her thumbnail. It swung from her ponytail and fell off completely, landing in the dirt. "Dwayne!" She pushed on his back, turning her head and torso around like she was hanging upside down from the monkey bars. The Pacific wind was more violent the closer they got to the edge of the bluff. Her heart dropped into her mouth like Connect Four, and not just because she was upside down. The wind blew her hair into her mouth, "Dwayne!" her breath hitched. "You made your point. This isn't funny."

"I almost made my point," Dwayne said. He grabbed her by the ankles and lifted her legs so she slipped off his shoulder, holding her up effortlessly as if she weighed nothing at all.

"Dwayne," Laddie said nervously, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the wooden steps that led down to the cave under the bluff.

"You're too close to the point to miss the rocks."

Her lungs wouldn't expand all the way hanging upside down, it was like trying to breathe with Dwayne sitting on her stomach. "Dwayne," she gasped.

"Think happy thoughts, Missy."

"Dwayne, I can't swim!"

The expectation of drowning was optimistic, she thought. That was only if she missed the rocks, which as Dwayne pointed out was unlikely given her current trajectory. What was likely was that she'd die. Her body would be smashed on the rocks like a baby bird, her brief life as a half-vampire cut shorter because Dwayne couldn't take a joke.

She banged her elbow on the cliff face so hard she thought she broke it, throwing her arms out as if she could slow her descent that way. "Dwayne!" She tried to scream but the rushing air went down her throat and punched her in her empty stomach.

Happy thoughts, Missy.

"Dwayne!"

She couldn't see how close she was getting to the ground, every time she tried to look it was like trying to lift her head off the headrest on a roller coaster: impossible.

Dwayne wasn't going to let her die. Not like this, not after breaking all of the vampire societal rules like Ponyboy Curtis to save her life. He wouldn't risk pissing off Max and David by saving her just to turn around and throw her off a cliff a few weeks later, not even to prove a point.

She kept waiting for the punchline to hit. Or the ground.

But she didn't hit the rocks, or the water. She did hit something, though.

She should've known it was Dwayne right away because it felt like a truck hit her in the air. It still knocked the wind out of her when they caught her when she tripped, which still happened way too frequently, and nine times out of ten it was David who caught her because he always seemed to be around when she embarrassed herself, like a shark drawn to her shame in the water.

"You're really dramatic," Dwayne said. "anyone ever told you that?"

"You're a sociopath!" Missy would have punched him if she could physically take her hands off of him to do so. Dwayne held them both up in the air like they were treading water in a swimming pool and he was teaching her how to swim, which she had little context for because she didn't know how to swim and there weren't that many public pools in Queen Anne, but she remembered floating like this with her dad when she was five. Almost drowning put future lessons on permanent hiatus, and after her mother's second attempt, she couldn't even take a bath, let alone submerge herself completely. It was manageable these days. She didn't hyperventilate or cry if she got near water, which was a far cry from how she was twelve years and pre-therapy ago. She still couldn't take baths though.

"You're fine," Dwayne said. The arm holding her up cut into her lower back like a seatbelt.

"I am not fine." She kicked him as hard as she could with their legs dangling. "I could have died."

"You weren't even close."

"I could have had a heart attack!"

Dwayne very nearly laughed. "You're seventeen. I don't know many seventeen-year-olds that die of heart attacks."

Missy huffed. "With my luck, I'd be the first."

Dwayne half smiled. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Missy kicked her legs like she was trying to fix her covers without touching them. "Is that really how David taught you how to fly?"

Dwayne shrugged. "What do you think?"

"I think David's a sociopath." Dwayne laughed. Missy bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "You know, the whole concept of sink or swim has been proven to actually be kind of counterproductive, not to mention dangerous, especially when it comes to flying!"

"We all swam," Dwayne said mildly.

Missy pursed her lips to the side. "Did you really let David throw Laddie off a cliff?"

Dwayne smiled roguishly. "No."

Missy didn't think so. Star, on the other hand, she would have paid to see David throw off a cliff, just to see the look on her face when he caught her.

Dwayne huffed. "Me too."

"Is it really not supposed to be this hard?" Missy asked. "Flying, I mean."

Dwayne shrugged again,

"I can't fly, I can't hear anyone else's thoughts but mine," Missy sighed, tightening her ponytail absently. "I must be the world's worst half-vampire." She picked up her baseball cap and smacked it against her thigh, shaking the dirt off. Laddie ran up to her and hugged her, the Rubik's cube stabbing her in the lower back. She swept his long hair out of his face with one hand and put her baseball cap on him. He giggled when she tugged on the brim, covering his eyes.

He tilted his head back, holding the top of her baseball cap so it wouldn't fall off his head. "Did you fly?"

Missy huffed. "No, Dwayne caught me again." The bruises on her legs and backside were a testament to just how ineffective a running start was when it came to flying, and jumping out of a tree, which sounded like a good idea in her head, was not any better than her previous attempts in practice. Luckily Dwayne caught her before she could hurt herself any more than she already had, putting the kibosh on her solo flight plans. It was probably a good thing he did, otherwise, she'd have more than bruises on her backside to show for it.

She didn't even want to be a vampire in the first place, but it was discouraging nonetheless that she couldn't even seem to conquer the basics. She didn't expect to be good at everything vampire right away, but she didn't expect to be bad at everything either.

"You're thinking about it too much," Dwayne said.

"Thank you," Missy said tartly. "that really helps me, Dwayne, thank you." Things had been better between her and Dwayne ever since Max let them off the hook for Patrick's death. She could tell that Dwayne was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she'd been making an effort to move past it, and make the best of the bad situation she found herself in, even if she hadn't technically forgiven him, for the sake of peace, even if it was just her own peace of mind. She hadn't had much these past few weeks, of peace, that is, which wasn't Dwayne's fault either because she still hadn't told him about Patrick.

Patrick was dead, but no matter how many times she told herself that, she didn't really believe it. She was there when he died, she torched him herself, and even if he could have survived that, there's no way he could survive being turned into Hamburger Helper. But the fact remained that Patrick had been with her since he died.

"A part of me is gonna be inside you always, sweetheart." Missy clenched her jaw, but she couldn't get away from him without touching him, and touching him would be like acknowledging that he was really there.

"Who says I'm not?" Patrick pinched her cheek so hard her right eye closed. "You're not exactly the most reliable narrator, babe. And that stake went through both of us, remember?"

Maybe Patrick was right. When she died, she had Patrick's blood inside her, and now she was a half-vampire. Did that make Patrick her vampire dad or Dwayne? She needed vampire sex-ed. She didn't know how any of this worked, and she didn't know if she was embarrassed to tell Dwayne about her hallucinations like she just figured out how to masturbate, or afraid that he'd tell her she wasn't imagining it at all. At this point, she didn't even know what she thought, but Patrick planted the idea in her head and she couldn't let it go. Her mother was crazy too, maybe she inherited more than just her dimples.

Dwayne was right, she did think too much.

"What are you thinking about, Missy?" Laddie held her hand and swung their arms lightly.

Dwayne caught the panicked look on her face before she could mask it and gave her a strange look.

"Like Dwayne said." She swung their arms harder, making Laddie's shoulder go up and down. He laughed. "Happy thoughts."

RAYMOND

Concord, California

(83 miles outside of Santa Carla)

It would be an hour and a half before they reached Santa Carla and already —"An hour and twenty-seven minutes.", an hour and twenty-seven minutes, thank you, LYDIA, and already Raymond felt uneasy. This was news to no one who knew him, Raymond was usually on edge, it was the only reason he'd lived this long, but he hadn't felt fear like this in a long time.

To call this a suicide mission would be to drastically underplay the gravity of the situation. He fully expected all three of them to die, but probably Luther first. The vampire sitting behind them, a dark-skinned man in his very late thirties or early forties, with a broad hooked nose and a shaved head, and the personality of a lamb chop, didn't comment, and Raymond preferred it that way. He didn't bring Luther with him for the conversation, that much was obvious to anyone who looked at him. If it had been left up to him he wouldn't have come at all, but he definitely wouldn't have brought Luther of all people. Lydia, he could take or leave, but he didn't even know Luther personally, and he didn't like putting his life in anyone's hands, least of all someone he didn't even know from Adam. Why Simon picked him wasn't a mystery, he was 6'4" and as wide as he was tall, he wasn't here to provide shade. The upside of having Lydia with him was at least he didn't have to sit next to Luther or anyone else on the bus.

Lydia was an asshole. That wasn't an indictment of her personally, Raymond thought most people were, especially vampires, but Lydia was basically a Trapper Keeper with great legs, which was fine if he needed someone to memorize a bus schedule or nitpick his inner monologue, but in a fight? Which to be fair, was what he was expecting when they got there, but let's be honest, it wasn't going to be a fight, it was gonna be a slaughter, and there was more of Luther to hack through than there was Lydia. She didn't get where she was in Park's merry gang of psychopaths because of her good lucks —Raymond glanced sidelong at her, obviously, and he was too smart to underestimate her and too smart to think he was infallible, but that didn't mean he trusted her or even liked her either for that matter, which was hardly a surprise, he didn't really like anyone.

He liked public transportation even less, but he didn't pay for the ticket, and he didn't have a license (nor could he reach the pedals even if he wanted to), so he wasn't allowed to complain.

That didn't appear to be stopping him, but he was riding on a bus full of coughing humans toward his almost certain death, so he believed he was entitled.

Simon and the others may have thought he was exaggerating, that's fine, Luther and Lydia may not believe him either for all he knew, he didn't really care, they'd all die, and Max and his boys would too if they didn't listen to him, and that was gospel as far as he was concerned.

They had no idea what was coming, that much was clear, otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered with Simon's dog and pony show in the first place. It was just an excuse for Park to show his ass and for Sadie to show her teeth. All they wanted to talk about was Max, and Patrick's "suspicious" death at his boy's hand, if not necessarily Max's behest.

Fuck Patrick. They all wanted him dead, they were all just too self-righteous to admit it, so they pointed the finger at Max when what they should have been doing was planning their own funerals because they were all. Missing. The point.

Which was: the hell with Max. If they were smart, they'd all lay low and let the Reverend kill Max and lay waste to the rest of them, and divvy up his territory when it was over. This "diplomatic" bullshit was exactly that, and they all knew it. It was a smoke screen to hide what they really wanted, which was to turn Max into their little whipping boy for Patrick's murder and give him a slap on the wrist for doing what they all wanted but were too much of a pussy to do themselves, which was kill Patrick.

This was all about territory, they could say it was about Patrick but they didn't give a shit about Patrick, no one did, not even Max.

The Reverend's timing was almost too convenient. Patrick's murder and his return to the west coast for the first time in a decade came within five years of the next Shift. Typical that Sadie and Park would try to use Max's neck as a stepping stone to make a power grab during the unrest.

God, he hated vampires.

The bus slowed down as it came to the exit, and out of the corner of his eye, Raymond saw Lydia sit up like a bird dog. He let out a prolonged sigh. "What?" He asked.

They were sitting directly behind the driver so Raymond could be closest to the door, which was also why he was sitting in the aisle seat instead of Lydia. Lydia took the window seat without complaint, which as far as he was concerned, was her best quality, but he hadn't seen her look out the window once the whole time.

She leaned forward, reaching over the front of their seat to tap the driver on the shoulder. "This is the wrong exit," she said quietly, but not to Raymond. If he didn't know better he'd say she looked panicked. She touched the driver's shoulder to get his attention. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Don't talk to him." Raymond sank lower in their seat, groaning loudly with his head voice. Great, now he was going to talk to them for the rest of the ride. "I can't take you two anywhere."

"What?" The bus driver could almost see Lydia without turning his head, and he met her eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror. Raymond thought he seemed surprised that Lydia was talking to him, but no one was more so than Raymond. She'd been sitting in complete silence the whole time except to correct him, with an unpleasant look on her face that rivaled his own, so it came as a shock to hear her address the driver with such an effortlessly sincere tone of voice.

"This is the wrong exit."

"I know that," the driver said. He had a mustache that looked like a push broom that wiggled when he talked. "I gotta get gas."

Unable to stop himself, Raymond incredulously asked: "You didn't get gas before we left?"

The bus driver glanced at him in the rear-view mirror but addressed Lydia only, perhaps he, like most people, erroneously assumed that he was Lydia's unpleasant adolescent son and just ignored him. "The fella who usually drives this route called in sick last minute. We run a tight schedule," he pronounced it shed-jull. "just didn't have time."

Ignoring Raymond's now audible groaning, Lydia asked: "How long will it take?"

The driver lifted his baseball cap and scratched the top of his balding head absently. "'Bout fifteen minutes or so I figure, won't take long, and we'll be back on the road before you know it, ma'am."

"Thank you." Lydia leaned back again and didn't say anything else.

Raymond glared at her out of the corner of his eye as their bus pulled into the gas station. None of the humans on the bus seemed to notice or care, most of them were asleep given how late it was, and only one or two of them got off the bus to stretch their legs or pee while the driver pumped gas. Raymond, Lydia, and Luther remained in their seats, and Raymond stared petulantly out the window over Lydia's shoulder.

A brassy brown station wagon was parked next to them. The left front tire was a donut, and the back of the car was covered in bumper stickers, the only one of which that wasn't too faded for him to read had a cartoon owl on it and said: "Give a hoot! Don't pollute".

"Ugh."

The driver's side door was open, but Raymond couldn't see the driver. It was almost like he was daring someone to try to steal it.

Raymond thumped his forehead on the back of the seat in front of them, sighing. This was a waste of time. He was sitting here reading bumper stickers while Dutton was on his way to Santa Carla right now, and the longer they sat here, the likelihood that his imminent death was getting more imminent by the second increased. "This is ridiculous." He said, squeezing the top of the seat with both hands. Lydia didn't comment.

It felt like an eternity, which when put into the perspective of him being a vampire, said a lot. It felt like an eternity and an eternity had a baby and he just watched it drive off to college in that stupid fucking station wagon. Fear sat in his empty stomach like an anchor, but it was only ten minutes before the bus driver returned.

"Alright folks," finally, Raymond thought. "we got a full tank and about fifty miles to our destination. Get some sleep and I'll try to get you there as quick as I can. Next stop, Santa Carla."

If Raymond's heart could beat, it would be racing.

Thank you for reading.