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“They can’t just arrest you, right? I mean, they don’t have proof or anything.” “If it’s true that I’ve made everyone on the police force feel a certain way, they’d love to see me behind bars. They don’t need proof.” Once they arrive in front of the apartment complex, Sherlock leaves even before the cab pulls over. They reach the elevator with a few people in it. Sherlock pressed the third floor button multiple times, hands resting on the metal bars while his foot taps the ground. John can feel how worried he is, and it becomes more evident once the doors slide open and Sherlock pushes past the people, running down the hallway and slamming his palm against the surface of the door. “Jocelyn!” Sherlock raises his deep voice, slamming his fist against the door repeatedly. “Jocelyn, open the door!” When no one answers the door, Sherlock breathes out. “We have to kick the door down.” “What if she’s still at the Yard?” “No. When we arrived back at the precinct to interview the little girl, she wasn’t there.” “We… didn’t even go to the lab, how would you even know that?” “Because every five in the afternoon, she leaves the lab to get coffee. She never did that today. I must have noticed without… noticing.” “She never leaves early…” “Precisely. She left early for your birthday, not for anything else. Something is wrong.” If this was Moriarty’s idea to burn him, he might be doing much worse to Sherlock. John nods at him as well, looking at the door again. Sherlock raises his foot and braces himself. As if on cue, the elevator doors slide open and a clueless Jocelyn steps out, carrying her sling bag over her shoulder while she pushes her hair out of her line of sight. Once she looks up, her eyes widen. “What are you doing!?” Jocelyn shrieks. At the sound of her voice, both heads snap towards her. John sighs in relief, eyes relaxing as he glances at Sherlock lowering his foot. However, the consulting detective only has his eyes trained on her. Jocelyn jogs towards them with an annoyed expression, arms wide open. “Were you just going to kick—” She was cut off by the impact of Sherlock wrapping his arms around her in a frantic manner, eyes still wide as if he couldn’t believe that she’s fine. “You’re… fine. You’re alright.” Sherlock mumbles in a questioning tone mostly to himself, hands shaking as they brushed through her brown hair to hold her head to his chest. Jocelyn is surprised by his gesture. For the past few months, all he’s been was neutral to her, treating her like he treats everyone else. Now, he was holding her so tight as if she would just disappear all of a sudden. “I’m okay, Sherlock,” she mumbles into his chest, listening to how rapid his heart rate is. Sherlock sighs out and for a moment, he didn’t care that John was watching them. Although, that doesn’t mean he’s been comfortable with himself. Once he realizes what he did, he immediately pulls away and just watches Jocelyn as though he was a deer caught in headlights. He stammers for a second and she just looks a bit worried. “John.” “On it,” he immediately directs her to the elevator after taking her keys and giving them to Sherlock. The detective glances down at her purse, brows knotting. As John walks her, Jocelyn keeps looking back with worry. The detective unlocks the door and pushes it open to disappear inside. “What’s going on?” “We’ll explain at home.” John leads her outside the building. Later, Sherlock steps out, carrying a bag. A few people begin to leave the building with fear in their eyes, and the number increases by the minute. Jocelyn’s mouth opens, realizing it’s the emergency bag she keeps in case she needs to leave immediately. “How did you—” “What’s in your purse?” “…what do you mean?” “I mean, what do you have in your bag?” “Sherlock…” He steps forward and grabs the sling bag, pushing Jocelyn’s carry-on into John’s arms. He has his eyes on Jocelyn the entire time as he slides the zipper of her sling bag, pulling out the handgun she brought with her. She crosses her arms anxiously. “Jesus, bloody hell—” John stares at the gun. She gulps. “I can explain that.” “Please do, before you give John a heart attack.” Jocelyn bites down on her lip. “Moriarty forced me to meet him. I went to tell him to fuck off.” “Sorry, did you just say that you went face to face with that psychopath?” John asks with wide eyes. “Why would you not tell anyone? More importantly, why did you go alone? Do you realize how idiotic your actions were?” “He threatened my aunt, I had no choice!” She snaps at him. “Plus, you and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms.” Sherlock steps forward so their faces are mere inches apart. “Speaking terms or not, you contact me as soon as your life is in danger, do you understand?” His eyes twitch. “Where did he meet you?” Jocelyn stays silent, not wanting to answer him anymore as she gives him a stubborn expression. This only makes Sherlock reach into her bag to pull out the paper and unfold it. He looks at Jocelyn in alarm. “What was he doing in our old flat?” “He… recreated our flat. Everything looked the same as it did before. Everything.” Sherlock stares into space, thinking to himself. “He said that he knows about how we met… but I doubt anyone’s memory is sharp enough to randomly remember us.” “What else did he tell you?” “He offered me a deal, but that doesn’t matter because I didn’t take it. He wants something from me, but he didn’t say what it was. He said that only I could be the one who can do it. I don’t know what he meant.” “Why didn’t you ask? Considering you two are now acquaintances.” Sherlock glowers before walking past her. John clears his throat, giving her a disappointed look before following after Sherlock. She briefly closes her eyes, turning to walk up to them as they wave down a cab. After a tense cab ride, they arrive an hour later and Sherlock proceeds to the flat without another word, as well as John. They seem to be annoyed at Jocelyn for not telling them of Moriarty’s visit, but Jocelyn can’t exactly be sorry, no matter how wrong she felt her actions were. John answers a phone call from Lestrade, saying that they’re on their way to Baker Street. Both men appear to be troubled looking, she can tell by the tone of John’s voice. As Sherlock removes his coat and scarf, Mrs. Hudson enters the flat, holding an envelope that she was planning to give to them earlier. John opens the envelope and pulls out something dusty; an overly baked gingerbread man. Jocelyn’s attention is caught when she hears police sirens nearing the streets. The doorbell rings and Mrs. Hudson fetches it. The rapid knocking on the door fills their ears. “What the hell is going on?” Jocelyn asks in horror. “Are we supposed to give you an explanation after you refuse to give one?” Sherlock barks out. “I told you, you moron. I was protecting my aunt.” “By also putting yourself in danger. It’s Moriarty, he could have killed you and your aunt. Along with the whole building. You weren’t thinking!” “I had no choice!” “You always have another choice,” he snaps. “You could have died tonight. He could have murdered you in that flat. Or held you hostage! How foolish—” Donovan’s loud voice booms through the hallway outside. Mrs. Hudson scolds them. Everything is happening simultaneously and Jocelyn can barely keep up. It causes her uneven breathing. John follows after Mrs. Hudson, mentioning something about a warrant and the word makes Jocelyn freeze. Sherlock calmly puts on his coat and scarf again, preparing himself. Greg crosses his arms once he sees Jocelyn. “I was wondering where you went. Ready to tell me why you were looking through the security footage?” At the mention of security footage, Sherlock glimpsed at her with a slight glare, figuring out that she was looking for the person who put the note in her lab. “Sherlock Holmes, I’m arresting you on suspicion on abduction and kidnapping,” “Greg, what—” Jocelyn gapes. “He’s not resisting, you can’t just cuff him.” “It’s alright, John.” Sherlock mutters, not wanting the situation to worsen. “No! It’s not all right. This is ridiculous!” “Jocelyn, stay in this flat. Do not leave.” Sherlock calmly tells her. “But—” Greg orders his officers to take him and they aggressively push Sherlock outside. “Don’t hurt him!” Jocelyn steps in, but Greg gently grabs her arm to stop her. She glares at him. “Are you serious?! Abduct and kidnap?” “You don’t even have a warrant.” John reminds. “Don’t try to interfere, or I’ll arrest you two.” Greg points out, looking as dismayed as the both of them before he leaves. Donovan walks in with a smug look on her face, and John just shakes his head at her. “I said it, solving crimes won’t be enough. One day he’ll cross the line. Now, ask yourself. What sort of man would kidnap those children just so he can impress us all by finding them?” “Sherlock would never do that,” Jocelyn immediately says. “Of course, you’d say that. What, with being the only woman that Sherlock has ever dated.” Jocelyn freezes in her place. Donovan snorts. “It’s all over the papers, Grant. You and Sherlock shacking up back in the day.” Jocelyn’s jaw drops, looking at John. He just shakes his head, indicating that he had no idea. “What does that have to do with how you are all arresting the wrong man?” “Well, you weren’t there. And since you’re practically his ex, you’re letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment. He found those kids with just a footprint as evidence, no one can do that.” “That’s how he is. He’s intelligent. Too intelligent for your lot, which is why all of you consult him.” She persistently says, stepping forward to near her enraged face to Donovan’s. “You are repulsive.” Donovan has nothing else to say and it was the exact same time their boss walks in. He looks at Jocelyn. “Dr. Grant, what are you doing here in the middle of an arrest?” She walks to him. “You are making a big mistake. Sherlock Holmes is innocent, you have to let him go,” “Dr. Grant, don’t tell me you’ve also been consulting this man and letting him into the lab to view evidence.” She huffs. “He—” “Donovan, that our man?” “Yes, sir.” “Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me. Often are, these vigilante types.” He comments, and it might have pushed John over the edge. Jocelyn gasps when John swings at the Chief Superintendent, successfully giving him a bloodied nose. “John! John, don’t,” she goes to his side and pulls him back as he tries to pull away from her hold to assault their boss even more. Officers came in and grab John, pulling him downstairs. John quietly apologizes to Jocelyn for his display of violence. Jocelyn can only watch, feeling powerless as her two friends are arrested. Jocelyn follows behind. “Greg, you have to believe me. Sherlock didn’t do anything, you know he wouldn’t!” Greg grabs her arm, pulling them away from the officers hearing range. “I know he wouldn’t, but I can’t do anything about it, alright? We have the Chief involved in this!” He sharply tells her. “I told you before that I confide in Mycroft Holmes, but now it’s out of my hands, there’s nothing we can do.” “It’s Moriarty, this was what he was planning, don’t you see?” “He walked free after the trial, which means that I can’t drag his name into this. The media made sure of that.” Lestrade reaches into the nearest police car he could find, pulling out the newspaper and giving it to Jocelyn. “They’re telling Sherlock’s life story, like an exposé. You were mentioned in the preview of it.” The article introduces her as Sherlock’s sole romance before she was introduced as a prestigious scientist. It even mentions how they knew each other during their sophomore years for five months, which is oddly specific. “There is no way that any random civilian just cared about mine and Sherlock’s lives enough to even remember any of this.”  Before Lestrade could reply, groans from other officers can be heard. They look at one another before jogging back to where everything was happening. Jocelyn feels like her heart would stop at the sight of Sherlock pointing a gun at everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, would you all please get on your knees?” Sherlock backs away with John cuffed to him. Everyone watches in shock. “Sherlock, what are you doing?!” Jocelyn yells. In response, Sherlock points the gun to the sky, firing it and letting it be known that he is armed. “Now would be good!” “Do what he says!” Greg orders, already lowering himself to his knees and everyone copies his actions. Jocelyn kneels down, still watching them with concern. Jocelyn’s hands are shaking, watching the two men back away and begin running. The moment they turned, everyone was on their feet looking exasperated. Jocelyn clenches her fists and hails a cab. *** “No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. A man turns up with a Holy Grail in his pocket. What were his credentials?” Kitty doesn’t answer him, which leads him to set rage inside himself, but he tries not to let it show on his face. “You had no permission from her for you to publish your ridiculous articles. Dr. Grant has been in your place, scouring up every opportunity she could find in order to make a name for herself and here you are, slapping the label ex-lover into her entire identity. Now, people who read the papers will begin to view her solely because she was apparently involved with me and not because she gained three PhDs in her lifetime.” Sherlock bottles up his anger. John gapes at the anger on Sherlock’s face. The detective inhales calmly again. “I will ask again. Who is Rich Brook?” The door opens from behind them and Sherlock turns to see who it is, and to Sherlock’s horror, it was none other than Jim Moriarty. However, Moriarty is not acting his usual self as he watches the two men with fear, arms raised in defense while backing away. On the other hand, Jocelyn storms into Mycroft’s office, eyes filled with betrayal and disappointment. “We are in the middle of—” “I don’t care, get out.” Mycroft sighs. “Miss Grant—” “I said, get out.” Jocelyn looks towards the man and woman sitting opposite of Mycroft’s desk with a murderous glint in her eyes. He contemplates, but nods at them wordlessly. Jocelyn doesn’t take her eyes off Mycroft for one second while the two people leave the room, closing the door behind themselves. “What the hell did you do?” “Pardon?” Jocelyn messily throws the newspaper into his desk. “Miss Grant—” She snaps. “Don’t fucking Miss Grant me! What… did you do?” Mycroft is speechless, even avoiding to look her in the eyes. He couldn’t say anything to her about the plan, which leads to Jocelyn scoffing at him with total betrayal. “You told me that I should never doubt you when it comes to Sherlock’s safety and you do this? How could you? He’s your brother and you, what, went on story mode over coffee with Moriarty?” “Miss Grant, you have to understand that it was never my intention to hurt him, and it will never be my intention.” “He can use that to ruin him, do you see what you’ve done?” She couldn’t help but let a tear escape her eye in front of him, the Iceman. “Jocelyn, you don’t understand. I never intended for this to happen,” he lifts up the newspaper. “I don’t care if they smear my name. His whole life story will be revealed and I never thought for a single moment that it could be you who would do such a thing.” He just sighs. “I’m sorry.” She almost dryly laughs at him, but refrains. Jocelyn gives him one last look before leaving his office with a heavy chest. *** “Well, here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock. And our problem, the final problem.” Sherlock is cautious enough to look at his surroundings as he walks towards him. “Did Jocelyn tell you about what I did to your little flat? It was so fun trying to identify objects in photos using a magnifying glass,” he chuckles, circling around him and seeing Sherlock mimicking the tapping. “Good, you got that, too.” “Beats like digits. A keycode that can break into any system.” “Told all my clients. Last one to Sherlock is a sissy.” “Yes, but now, I can use it to alter the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty.” “No, no, no, this is too easy, this is too easy, there is no code! Doofus!” The insanity flashes across his face as he screams into Sherlock’s smug face, wiping it off at the instant. “I’m disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock.” “But the rhythm...” “Partita No. 1! Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach. Your significant other managed to play it really well. I knew you’d fall for it, that’s your weakness. You always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it.” “Do what?” It dawns over him, turning to look at the edge of the rooftop. “Yes, of course… my suicide.” “Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairy tales, and pretty grim ones, too.” He turns to Moriarty. “I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity.” “Oh, just kill yourself. It’s a lot less effort.” Sherlock breathes out, looking around the rooftop and the view. “Go on, for me. Pleaaaaase?” The detective grabs Moriarty by the collar and balances him over the edge, staring at him with a murderous glare. “You’re insane.” Moriarty appears amused. “Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don’t.” Sherlock’s face softens. “John?” “Not just John. Everyone.” “Mrs. Hudson?” “Everyone.” “Lestrade?” “Everyone, Sherly.” Once Sherlock quiets down, his eye twitches, thinking of everyone’s lives. Moriarty grins. “Forgetting a name?” “Jocelyn,” Sherlock says under his breath. “Three bullets, three gunmen, three victims. There’s no stopping them now.” Sherlock narrows his eyes. “Three?” “Oh, I’m not going to shoot Jocelyn. No, no. Bullets are reserved for the ordinary people.” Sherlock tightens his grip around him. The mere mention of Jocelyn’s name was enough for Sherlock to want to throw Moriarty of the building. “I have someone who’s going to take her and make her suffer. She will hate herself and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. She will hate her life until she begs them to kill her.” He taunts, and Sherlock’s heavy breathing begins to shake. “I’ll make her do things you can’t even imagine. So many possibilities with the good scientist. I can make her as my right hand, or I can make her feel all the different types of pain, or I can make her the biggest criminal master in the whole world,” he smirks, watching the confusion in Sherlock’s eyes. “You might think I’m reaching, but she really has the potential, believe me. If she doesn’t accept, they’ll throw her into terrorist cells.” He casually says, and Sherlock pulls him off the edge. “You can do whatever you want with me, but nothing’s going to stop them from pulling the trigger, and kidnapping little Josie from your bedroom. Your only four friends in the world will die, unless…” “Unless I kill myself. Complete your story.” Moriarty chuckles. “You’ve got to admit, that’s sexier.” “And… I die in disgrace.” “That’s the whole point? Off you pop, go on. I told you how this ends, your death is the only thing that’s going to call off the killers. I’m certainly not going to do it. And from that, Sherlock figures out that Moriarty can call it off, and now, the two are challenging each other again. “Nah, you talk big. You’re ordinary, you’re on the side of the angels.” “Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.” Moriarty just stares at him, slowly coming to realization. “No, you’re not.” He slowly smiles at him. “I see. You’re not ordinary, no. You’re me. You’re me! Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.” He offers his right hand for Sherlock to shake. He reluctantly reaches for it, shaking his hand. Moriarty grows emotional, nodding continuously at him as he thanks him. “As long as I’m alive, you can save your friends. You’ve got a way out.” He nods in understanding. “Well, good luck with that!” He chirps, widening his mouth into an ‘O’ before pulling out a gun from his coat. Before Sherlock could react, Moriarty puts the gun into his mouth and pulls the trigger, sending Sherlock to gasp out and take a step back, watching Moriarty’s body fall into the floor. Moriarty’s eyes were wide and lifeless as blood pools around his head, Sherlock’s heart was beating rapidly as he groans at the sight, feeling lightheaded as he tried to think of what to do. He looks over his shoulder, slowly making his way back to the edge. Sherlock starts panting, his hands are shaking. He steps on it and looks down, pulling out his phone to send a specific text to his brother. He had no other choice, he knows what’s coming. Sherlock scrolls through his contact list and searches for a name. He dials them and holds the phone to his ear. A yawn sounds from the phone. “What?”  “Jocelyn.” At the sound of his voice, she sounds more awake. “Sherlock, oh, my God. Where are you? I’ve left you like a thousand messages! Are you okay? Where’s John? Are you hurt?” Her many questions laced with concern only makes one corner of Sherlock’s lips to twitch upwards into a smile. “Hello? Sherlock?” The sound of her voice snaps him out of his daze. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.” “Can’t you just tell me where you are? I can come to you.” “No, I can do this over the phone.” “Alright, what is it?” “I… want you to know that I understand why you did what you did.” She silences, and by the sound of it, she seems surprised. “You wanted to give me my best chance. You thought that you were hurting me by being around me. My past self would disagree, but I understand from your point of view.” “Sherlock, what’s going on?” He shakes his head, looking down at his shoes and observing the way the tips of his pair are hanging from the edge. “Jocelyn, I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you in the past, and in the coming future. I apologize for being so angry while not knowing the full story. On the bright side of things, if you hadn’t left, I never would have met John or Mrs. Hudson.” “Where are you right now?” Sherlock can hear her begin to walk. “No, no! Don’t leave the flat—do not leave.” He quickly tells her in a slightly aggressive tone that he cannot hold back. “Sherlock...” “Please. Stay where you are. I need to tell you more.” “I swear to God—” “Everything they’ve been saying in the papers, everything you’ve read, everything you will read. It’s all true.” He cuts her off with a calmer tone. “What? That you’re a fraud?” Jocelyn laughs, thinking it’s a joke. “Okay, I’m going to call John and—” “Jocelyn, please. I am not trying to be amusing at the moment.” “Why are you saying this? Did Moriarty put you up to this?” Sherlock can feel Moriarty’s lifeless body just bleeding out behind him. “No, of course not. This is all me.” “You don’t seriously think I’d believe the papers, do you?” “Oh, but you must. It’s all true, Jocelyn. I am a fake.” “This has to be a joke—you and I met during University! You knew who I was the moment I opened the door.” Sherlock swallows, peering over the edge and calculating how high it is. “All of your information was enlisted on the university papers.” “You knew about my mother.” “You kept a photo of her by your bedside table.” “You found her diamond ring in under a few days!” “My brother knew of a pawnshop owner who knew how to assemble jewelry. I was trying to impress you.” “I-I don’t know what you want me to say.” Sherlock briefly closes his eyes. “I lied to you.” A sniffle coming from the phone against his ear only sent a pang through his body, and now he cannot stop picturing Jocelyn with tears running down her face. “Why are you lying to me now?” “I’m not lying now, this is the truth. I’m a good researcher, but I was never a good detective. I created Moriarty’s identity,” he tells her, but she only scoffs in disbelief. “I needed him to stand as an arch nemesis.” “Oh, so you were the one who put me inside that freezer, then? Is that what you’re telling me? You were the cause of one of my worst traumas? None of this makes any sense!” “That is what happened.” “Do you even hear yourself right now? You would never hurt me.” “I took it too far that afternoon, Jocelyn. It was my mistake. You were not supposed to experience mild hypothermia.” “Shut up, stop lying to me.” She pleads him. “Come to Baker Street, Sherlock. I swear to God, if you’re not here in less than half an hour, I’ll hunt you down myself.” His heart feels as though it stopped beating. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he was going to die. That would only make her come running to St. Barts and plead him to come down. He wouldn’t want her to see him that way. “Jocelyn, don’t—” She hangs up and slips the phone into her pocket, scoffing to herself as she walks downstairs with her wallet, seeing Mrs. Hudson. “What’s going on?” “You’re awake!” Mrs. Hudson smiles at her. “John came by.” “He was here?” “He seemed to be in a hurry.” “Did he say why he came here? Or where he was going?” “No, he was a bit shaken up, I think. He didn’t even stop by for five minutes.” “Did you see which road he was headed?” Meanwhile, once Jocelyn hung up, Sherlock glares at his phone, unable to prevent his eyes getting watery from dejection. Even near death, she still manages to piss him off. He tries to dial her again, but as soon as he sees a cab pulling over in front of the hospital, his face softens. At least he got to hold Jocelyn and talk to her even just for a moment, which was enough for now. Sherlock calls another number and watches as John sprints out of the cab and into the hospital while answering his own phone. He speaks to John and watches the panic in his friend the moment he sees him on the rooftop. Flashes of Jocelyn’s smiles, laughter and words were playing before his eyes. All the times that Jocelyn was most happy, it doesn’t surprise him that most of the images are not from the this year. But he does remember when he paid her a visit, they drank together, and shared memories. His words brought a smile to her face and laughter rumble from her chest that night, and the satisfaction of doing that was unfathomable. John shakes his head, not even believing him for one second. “Stop it, now,” he begins to walk to the entrance, but Sherlock lifts his arm to stop him. “Keep your eyes fixed on me, will you do this for me?” “Do what?” “This phone call, it’s my note,” he sniffles. “It’s what people do, don’t they? Leave a note?” John presses his lips together, not believing what’s happening before him. “Leave a note when?” Sherlock watches his best friend, not wanting to do this to him or to anyone, but he has no other choice. “Goodbye, John.” “No, don’t.” The consulting detective throws his phone to the ground, bracing himself at the edge. Sherlock takes a deep breath, looking at the ground and seeing everyone get to work. “Sherlock!” He stretches his arms to his side, relaxing his body before slowly unbalancing himself, leaning forward to let himself fall. John watches in horror and everything is a blur for him. Something hits him, sends him to the ground, he pushes himself up, pulling himself together as he makes his way to the growing crowd, a body, blood, the smell of blood, his hand reaches for the body’s wrist, no pulse, his vision darkens. John could barely hear the ear-piercing scream from behind him, the hurried steps and the shaky breath coming from one woman. Just a few moments earlier, the young scientist walks casually to the entrance of the hospital. She huffs out in annoyance, thinking back to how the detective was clearly lying to her. She kept thinking about how she’ll help her two friends get out of this mess; but it wasn’t until she catches a crowd from the corner of her eye. She furrows her brows, seeing between the gaps of the crowd that there is someone lying on the ground. Her heart pounds as she makes her way towards the crowd. Everything inside her overflowed the moment she recognizes the familiar coat and scarf… and she screams. She screams until her she can barely feel her throat. The screams were deep and painful, horrific and haunting. Sobs tore her chest open as she runs towards the body to push between the crowd. She wails the man’s name, hands getting covered in blood as she tries to reach out for him. Pairs of arms held her back, but she fights back, watching the paramedics lift the body into a stretcher. Her whole world falls apart, her entire body feels like it’s no longer attached to her as she slowly sinks into the floor, eyes droopy with her energy draining, and everything goes dark.

It was actually kind of nice to sleep on that couch, but it took Finn awhile after Poe nodded off to fall asleep himself. Though his Prince woke up again in about three hours time, it was probably the best night's sleep either of them had in days. Poe seemed to be of a better mind after the short nap. He seemed more collected, more sure of himself, that much more ready to face all of this. But he reminded Finn of his promise to go back to bed, so there was nothing else the guard could do until at least daylight. Once morning broke, he followed Poe around like a puppy as plans and tactics flowed in like water. Every General had something to say about invading the Capital, and his Prince listened to everyone's suggestions, both stupid and wise alike. It was clear – terribly clear – that this attack shouldn't happen for at least another week. The primary factor of the First Order's military support was still horribly unclear which put a massive void in most plans. However, due to the circumstances, they agreed to move forward at dawn the next day. Finn never wanted to speak up more in his life. Tomorrow? And Poe planned to be the first one there? Secretly, he had hoped his Prince would have thought otherwise about going if Finn went, too, but that didn't seem to be the case. It didn't change his mind, but the rapidly approaching moment to strike was putting everything in a stronger perspective. Finn was more than okay with himself going, but Poe? The mere thought went against his every grain. He lived and breathed to protect his Prince, and now the man wanted to run into war. But that's just the thing. It's war. If the invasion failed, nothing for the country would end well. Ben would decimate everything, that much everyone was sure of. It was all or nothing... and Poe was a great pilot, a great leader. And he had to be there. He had to. Finn understood that. That didn't mean he couldn't hate it. So Finn excused himself from Poe's side halfway into the day, feeling certain that his Prince was in no danger while under Lando's roof. His first order of business was to visit with some of the others that planned to lead the ground troops. Finn would be in charge of every unit on the ground, but these people would practically be his rights hands through the whole thing. When he spoke to and shook hands with Karé Kun and Iolo Arana, he tried hard to not think of Muran and Antilles. His second step was to visit with the pilots that would be flying by Poe's side. However, he found out that all of their air squadrons would be following him, and the only two people he trusted to act as right hands were still not within Finn's realm of contact: Jess and Snap. Once he realized who Poe would be flying with, though, he realized that he didn't need to speak to them after all. Those two would never let anything happen to him. So he talked with Karé and Iolo for hours, dividing their military units into sectors, deciding which way to enter the city and take the palace back. The city was the easy part. The contacts they had within the limits, not to mention the news and social media that managed to leak out, every millimeter closer to the palace was more and more guarded and deadly. The First Order was afraid of an assault. Maybe they wouldn't have all of the surprise that Finn had previously hoped for, but they could still work with this. Just as dusk set in, Leia ordered everyone to rest. What wasn't planned already would never get planned by this point, she claimed. They needed the rest for tomorrow. Poe wasn't going to rest. He wasn't going to sleep at all, the moron. But Finn vowed to find him later, to give them both a moment of space, as he went back to the room they had given him, the same medically sterile thing he had woken up in. He just... needed a minute. To think, to collect his thoughts, to make sure he wasn't doing something absolutely stupid. He stared at the blank pad of paper in front of him from his perch on the bed, having already torn away any notes or plans he had made earlier during the endless meetings. So all he could do was just... stare. Writing came easy to him. It was a form of freedom and adventure and creation and expression. Writing was beautiful. Except for right now. Right now, he wanted every written word imaginable to burn as he wracked his brain. The hardest part is starting, he said to himself, so he started. Then promptly tore it out and started again. He wrote more this time, taking up half the page, going back every now and then to scratch out words or entire sentences. When he drew a big 'X' through the entire second paragraph, he tore that sheet out and started again. This one was short, to the point, and not at all good enough, so he tore that out, too. The fourth attempt was more of an homage to the second, making it long winded sans the mistakes he had marked out before. When he was at the end of the page, writing as small as he could to fit everything he needed, he stopped and took a look at it. Too long. He tore it out. On the twelfth draft, he finally knew what actually needed to be written. It took two more times after that to write it. It wasn't perfect – it wasn't going to ever be perfect – but it was good enough. He threw away the mound of rough drafts, then gently tore out the final copy. He folded it and stuffed it in an envelope that he had also lifted from the meetings and stared at it. It wasn't perfect, but it should be; it deserved to be. He was about to take it out and start all over again when there was a knock, the door opened, and Poe walked in. Finn smirked. “And here I thought I'd have to run you to bed tonight.” But it was flattering that he came here. Still, Poe looked dead on his feet, as expected, dressed again in something more casual. He didn't get any rest after their nap on that couch. Miraculously, his Prince smiled back. “Wouldn't have to ask me twice to go to bed with you,” he chuckled, moving forward and pointing to the envelope. “What's that?” Finn looked back to it again, grimacing, and resolved that this was as perfect as it'll ever get. “Just something for Leia. For tomorrow,” he sighed, turning to place it and the paper on the table next to his bed. “Speaking of, I'm thinking we all have about five hours worth of sleep right now?” “Give or take,” Poe answered, climbing into the bed beside him, sitting against the headboard and resting their shoulders together. “You should have been asleep hours ago.” “Me? How much did you sleep last night?” “You're wounded,” the Prince said playfully with a tiny smirk, shoving his shoulder against him. Finn shoved back, delighting in this new mood right before everything turned somber again. Poe frowned down at his feet, serious again, looking years older than he ever should. “I really wish you wouldn't go tomorrow.” Finn didn't answer. He was going. That wasn't up for argument. “I could order you not to go.” Okay, that was up for argument. “I outrank you.” Poe raised an eyebrow. “I'm sorry?” “I'm in charge of your safety,” Finn nodded, “and when I think something isn't safe for you, even if it's an idea of your own, I can do anything and everything that I must to protect you. Therefore... I could order you to not go.” His Prince leaned his head back against the wall. “Then why haven't you?” “I want to,” he answered. “Why haven't you?” “I'm thinking about it.” And for a moment, Poe seemed to do just that, then let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. “I almost lost you at the palace-” “But you didn't,” Finn interrupted, not wanting that train of thought to continue. Instead, he reached over and grabbed Poe's hand, lacing their fingers together. Touches like this were still new, but it didn't really feel like it. So he just watched his Prince, studying the profile of his face like he didn't always have opportunities like this. It seemed like an eternity before Poe gave in and turned to face him. But he wasn't really seeing him... There was turmoil just behind the dark eyes, heavy with thought. It took tim for him to finally come up with, “You're stubborn.” Finn gave him a small smile that wasn't returned. Then, softer, “You don't have to do this. Not like I do.” “I have to.” “Why?” Those lovely eyes darkened more as a frown pierced his handsome face. “For me? Don't go because of me, Finn.” It was for Poe, if he wanted to be completely honest. After all, he was injured and had been in a grand total of two combat situations in the past. But- “I have to go for everything,” he said instead, squeezing his hand, “Everything I know. Everything I care about.” “If I stayed here, would you still go?” Don't do this. Finn frowned, too, but didn't let up on the grip of their hands. “My place is with you.” Poe seemed to mull that over for a moment, glancing at his eyes and lips and forehead and torso, lost in thought but looking him over to take him all in at the same time. Eventually, like it was uncontrollable twitch, a deeper frown came over him, scrunching up his face. “It's not, though,” he finally said, blinking a few times before their eyes met again. “I'm not royalty, you know that. Nothing's going to change if something happens to me. I'm the son of soldiers... You shouldn't even be here. You were working your way up, remember? All of this was a case of being at the right place at the right time. You took it because you were bored and it offered more money. Remember? You're not obligated to do anything. You've done so much already. You have nothing to-” “Poe.” His voice was soft, but the other man shut his mouth all the same when Finn shifted and moved closer. “I told you,” he whispered just low enough to hear, foreheads brushing together, “I'm here to protect you. You are my Prince... by blood or not. Okay?” There was no answer, as Poe's shining eyes moved up from his lips, facing him again. He was shuddering, hand gripping his hard, so full of emotion that he could burst again. So Finn asked once more, just to be sure. “Okay?” The sound of a reply was nothing more than a terrified breath against his neck, “Don't die for me.” No. Those thoughts were supposed to be gone. “I'm going to survive for you. If I die-” Poe's breathing hitched, hand practically flying to the side of Finn's face. But it was gentle and soft and... shaking. He was shaking. “Finn, don't- Just don't. Just- You don't have to. It's okay. I'll be okay. I don't want you to- I don't want you even thinking about-” “I'm going with you.” It was a whisper, a mutter of breath between them, but firm enough to feel the seriousness in the statement. “Poe, I'm going with you.” “No, I- I-” His Prince stared down at his cheek, eyes shining bright. His breathing pattern was all over the place, shaking like a leaf, mouth moving in silence. “Finn...” His name said like that felt like an oath, and all he could think about was kissing him. They had only kissed twice, but- Poe tightened his grip on him, frowning with a furrowed brow, looking like a frustrated child. “I-” Their eyes finally met again, the Prince's full of fear and hope and warmth, his voice so low that it could barely be heard. “Finn, I-... I lo-” He looked terrified... Finn leaned forward, somehow understanding the broken words through a connection he didn't dare second guess, and swallowed the meaning between them, gently pressing his lips against his Prince's. Poe tensed instantly, gripping hard at Finn's jaw and neck, and he didn't move at all for a moment. Until, suddenly, he pressed back hard, pushing against Finn. There was shuffling, a moment where Poe readjusted himself to face him head on, a second where the guard was sure he was about to be straddled but didn't. Instead, he felt Poe leaning over him, gliding his tongue along his lips, and Finn let him in without a thought. He reached higher above him, grabbing the back of his Prince's shirt and tugging him further down, all the more closer. But while Poe's tongue was making him weak, he felt resistance there. He pulled away for a brief moment, one where he continued the kissing between the words. “I won't break.” “Don't wanna-...” Poe paused in the words to kiss him deep again, making Finn lean off of the bed to get closer to him, before they broke apart again. “Don't wanna hurt you...” Didn't want to hurt him... They were walking into a war in a few hours, and Poe was worried about hurting him right now. Finn grabbed him at the ribs, pulling his Prince away and, all at once, picking him up and flipping them both over, putting him on top and pressing down without any thought to dignity. And... well, yeah, okay, it kind of hurt a good bit, but it was worth seeing Poe beneath him, wide eyes dark, breath catching and hands scrambling- Finn attacked the pulse point on his neck, biting down and sucking however way he wanted. Beneath him, Poe tilted his head to give more room, hand gripping up his back, and an amazing moan escaping him. “Finn.” He arched beneath him, and Finn groaned when he realized that Poe was hard. Oh Christ, to continue this, to see where they would end up- But his wounds felt like they were on fire. It wasn't a big deal – he'd feel much worse tomorrow – but he didn't want to pull a stitch just to make Poe think it was his fault. But it felt too good to stop now. The noises Poe was making as he rocked back into him. They couldn't just stop now. “Can I-?” Finn mumbled against his neck, hand gently going beneath Poe's shirt to trace the skin of his hips. “Can I-?” “Yes,” the other nearly sobbed against him, one leg already wrapping around him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-” Finn nipped at his adam's apple, effectively hushing him for the moment, hands deftly working to unbutton his pants. Meanwhile, Poe bucked and wiggled beneath him, scrambling to get his shirt off. Finn paused in his mission, leaning off of him for just a second to get rid of the offending piece of clothing – and oh, those days of sparing had paid off – but Poe gripped his bicep before he could go back. “Wait. Wait.” He froze, worried for just a moment, until he realized what was about to be asked of him. His shirt. Oh hell. He didn't think that far. An excuse was on his tongue, literally anything that came to mind first, but Poe was already moving beneath him, leaning up until they carefully flipped over again. This time he was definitely being straddled. Poe was breathing heavy, eyes blown huge, and this was probably the best thing that had happened in a long, long time. Poe's hand carefully moved beneath his own shirt, staying at the waistline like a question... Dammit. Finn bit his lip, but arched gently beneath him to take the shirt off. Hands moved, and Poe was suddenly helping him. It took a second just because they were going so slow with it, but the thing came off and fell on the floor, revealing every one of Finn's bandages that he hadn't wanted Poe to see. For a moment, his Prince just stared and took it in, eyes flicking to every spot covered in gauze and wraps. If Finn could have gotten away with covering himself up, he would have. It wasn't that he was self-conscious about it, but he knew Poe's way of thinking. He didn't want to share these wounds. But, slowly, Poe leaned forward to kiss his collarbone with much more patience than a moment ago, moving down his chest and lightly brushing his lips over the bandage at his heart. But he hardly stopped there. Poe kept moving down, following the line of his hard-earned abs. “Can I?” he repeated. Finn could have melted off of the bed. “Yeah,” he managed to breathe, like that was anywhere near as good as Poe's enthusiasm to the question a moment ago, but it was all that his mind could come up with right now. It didn't deter his Prince any, apparently. Poe's hands moved against him again like he had known this body for years, sucking at a spot beside Finn's navel that made everything in him tense and run hot, quickly managing to get his pants unbuttoned. Finn groaned in relief, hardly aware of the sound until it left him, while Poe's hands swiftly drove him insane by running down his hips like that. Goddammit, was this a dream? Those thoughts silenced when Poe finally released his cock and turned his sharp eyes on him. Oh God, this could not be happening right now. Finn, breathing hard, gave a small nod of approval. He could have sworn that there was a smirk there, before Poe opened his mouth and slid his tongue over the head, keeping his eyes on his. Finn gasped, shuddering, but didn't look away. Not until Poe took him in, eyes fluttering shut before swallowing to the hilt. Then he looked away. There was no other choice. “Fuck, Poe.” His eyes screwed shut, head tilting back, bucking once and managing to stop himself with the hardest bite to his lip he'd ever had to do. He had wanted this to last. He had wanted to think about anything except what was happening right now, but that wasn't about to happen. Poe felt so good, bobbing up and down on him, and Finn's hand automatically found his soft hair. He opened his eyes, entirely against every logical piece left in his mind. “Poe-” Those dark eyes found him again, full of wild lust, the man over him suddenly grinding against the bed, and- “Poe, God-” He was quickly losing the situation. “Poe, I'm- Poe-” The lover above him, his Prince, moaned into him, and that was it. Finn arched with a whine, gripping at the soft curls in his hand, coming hard down his throat. There was a beat that Poe stayed, practically milking him dry, before pulling off with a little pop. If Finn could physically melt into a puddle right now- Poe was kissing his jaw, chin- He moved his head at an angle, taking his lips in his, hardly able to lean up and kiss him as deep as before. Damn if his body hadn't decided to give out. But, no, not yet. Finn pulled back. “Now, you.” “I'm okay.” “Oh, don't start that-” “You're tired-” Finn grabbed his hip, pulling him close. “Just tell me how you want it.” Doubtless, a hundred different scenarios suddenly crossed Poe's mind if the way his eyes flicked down and his tongue licked his lips was any indication. “I just-” he began, then stopped and looked into his eyes again, leaning back in. “So long as you're doing it, I don't care.” Finn smiled, pushing up to meet him halfway and return the kiss. He would never get enough of kissing Poe. Ever. And maybe this wasn't nearly as good as the stellar blowjob that just wiped him out, but Finn pressed the heel of his hand to Poe's cock anyway, pleased when the man bucked above him. He broke the kiss, making quick work of the pants. “So hard,” he muttered, finding that spot again on Poe's neck, his free arm wrapping over his Prince's back to press them together. To make it as good as he could, he pushed his hips up, grinding against Poe while his hand did the harder work. Judging by Poe's, “Oh God,” moan against him, it was working. Before he knew it, Poe was grinding down hard, thrusting into his hand, practically growling against his ear, and Finn bit down, ushering him closer. It didn't take long before Poe gasped over him, body tensing and letting out a long moan, a beautiful heat spilling against the guard's torso. “Finn, oh... Finn...” For a moment, he nearly collapsed on top of him in a heaving mess of pleasure, before managing to roll off and onto his back. Finn watched him try to catch his breath... As far as first times go, that was pretty great. “Was it good?” If it wasn't, he was more than willing (if not exhausted) to try again, even as he wiped away the come to his torso with the edge of a sheet. But Poe huffed a laugh, opening his bright eyes again to look at him. “Well, that was-... That was pretty fucking great, Finn.” It still hurt to laugh, but there was a strong sense of peace now, especially with that light back in his Prince's eyes. God, he'd done that. A pride surged through him, a protectiveness, a love- He turned on his side, moving closer. Poe got the hint quickly, turning to where his back was facing Finn so that the other man could wrap him in his arms and pull him close. All thoughts of tomorrow were for tomorrow, but for now a calm flowed through him, claiming them both. He was already falling asleep in the haze when he heard Poe mutter, “I wish we'd done this sooner.” Finn opened his eyes to the room, with the lights still on and the door unlocked, making sure that he heard right. After a breath, he placed a light kiss on the back of Poe's neck. “Me, too.”

As expected, Eric made it home well before you. He met your car as it pulled in and opened your door. Immediately, he pulled you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. You relaxed into his hold. You’d been separated for several hours and you’d missed him. Finally, you pulled away to stretch your back. You hated long car rides. Eric glanced at the group around you. “Where’s your father?” “He rode separately so he could make a call.” The reminder annoyed you. It wasn’t as if you got to see your father on a daily basis any more. You thought he’d want to spend the car ride without your mate catching up on business and personal things he wasn’t comfortable discussing around Eric yet. Instead, he hadn’t even ridden in the same vehicle. Gods, he could be frustrating at times. Your mate arched a brow. “It appears as if all the cars are here, yet your father is not.” You frowned as you glanced around to find he was correct. You even went so far as to open the door to inspect the interior of the car he rode in. The driver stepped up to you. “He had us drop him off at the hotel, ma’am. He asked me to proceed to your residence to convey his apologies. He will be unable to speak to you until tomorrow.” You clenched your teeth and worked the muscle in your jaw. What the fuck was your father up to? You loved him dearly, but you didn’t trust him for a moment. With your life? Yes. Everything else? Not so much. “Alonso,” you called. The man in question was in the process of getting back into the car. He stopped and glanced at you with an arched brow. “What is he up to?” There was a pause before he said, “I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps you should ask him.” Oh, you fully intended to do just that. You watched Alonso leave and pulled out your phone. You’d start with a text and escalate from there. You could be pretty damned annoying when you wished to be. *** Eric’s phone rang just after sunset the following night. He was still in bed when he took the call. He listened for a moment while you frowned at him. He kept the volume down on his phone and you were having trouble picking up the other side of the conversation. Eric sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. “Yes, sir,” he said after several minutes. He glanced over his shoulder at you. The look on his face had you shifting uneasily. “I understand, sir.” With that, he ended the call. He licked his lips and shifted his weight on the bed so he could see you more easily. You moved closer but kept some distance between the two of you. You had a feeling you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say. “That was your father,” he informed you. You arched a brow. Why did he call Eric instead of you? You grabbed your phone and checked your notifications. Nothing. Eric took the phone from your hand and laid it beside his on the nightstand. Nerves made you nauseous. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at your mate waiting for him to speak. He licked his lips again, a nervous habit he’d never lost. “I’ve been summoned to appear before the Magister, the Guardian and other representatives of the Authority.” “Why?” You forced the word out through clenched teeth as you willed the tears that suddenly flooded your eyes not to fall. You didn’t even know what was going on yet, so why did you feel like crying? And what the hell was your father up to? “To answer for Sophie-Anne’s death.” Fear and anger shot through you in equal measure. “You mean the execution you carried out at the Guardian’s command?” Eric said nothing. It was then that you realized what Roman had done. He had set your mate up to take the fall for the death of a queen. The only punishment that could possibly fit the crime was the true death. He wanted Eric out of your life and this was how he intended to accomplish it. “If he thinks I’m going to sit here and do nothing he’s sorely mistaken.” “I am to attend the hearing alone. Anyone accompanying me risks being punished for interfering in Authority matters.” His voice was deadpan, emotionless. He was already shutting down. Distancing himself. Preparing for what he felt was inevitable. “Well, that’s a risk I’ll just have to take,” you argued. “I agree,” came a voice from behind you and you turned to find Godric in the doorway. He hadn’t been here when you arrived the night before and this was the first you’d seen of him since your trip. You gestured for him to join the two of you on the bed and let him pull you into his arms when he did. You leaned against his chest, seeking his comfort. “I will not risk either of you. You will remain here.” Eric’s face was hard. It was the look he wore when he’d made up his mind and he was determined no one would change it. You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t asking for permission, Eric. Frankly, I don’t really give a shit what your thoughts are on the matter. You are entirely too self-sacrificing when it comes to the two of us.” Godric gave you a little squeeze at your words. Apparently, he agreed. Your phone buzzed with a notification before Eric could state his argument. You held out a hand and he passed you the phone. You scanned the text and frowned. “When is your meeting?” “One hour.” “At the hotel? Room 336?” You glanced up to see Eric wearing a frown to match your own. He grabbed the phone from your hand and read the message from your father. Meeting. One hour. Rm 336. You are to attend as a guest of the Authority. Bring your boyfriend if you wish. “Why was he so adamant you not attend with me if he was going to invite you anyway?” Eric tossed the phone on the bed and raked a hand through his hair. He glanced between you and Godric. “I’m sorry, alskling, but I am not overly fond of my in-laws.” You laid your hand on his knee. “At the moment, I’m not overly fond of him either.” *** Despite the uncertainty you held concerning your father’s actions at the moment, you knew he seldom did things without reason. So, while Eric flew to the meeting on his own, Godric ran you there. Your mate was already in the room when you arrived to several familiar faces. Your father was nowhere to be seen. Godric moved to Eric’s side which would only be expected of him as his sire. You, however, kept your distance other than a brief nod of greeting. You made your way around the room saying hello to those you knew. When Roman entered, his gaze immediately found you with a smile. He came to your side and kissed your cheek. “I’m so happy you made it, sweetheart.” Your eyes searched his. The coldness you’d expect if he was planning to betray you was absent. All you saw was that spark he got when he was scheming. “And why exactly was I invited to…whatever this is?” He didn’t miss the warning in your tone and the corner of his mouth curled in a smile. “I thought you might enjoy seeing some faces you hadn’t in awhile. And your boyfriend should be particularly interested in tonight’s proceedings. As you were both near, I thought ‘why not’.” Before you could prod him further, he clapped his hands together and turned to the room in general. “Welcome everyone. Let’s get started shall we?”

There was nothing Ian Gallagher loved more than his boyfriend, Mickey Milkovich. There was so many things Ian could tell you he loved about him, from his bright blue eyes, to his inky black hair, to his cold persona he put on for everyone but once he was with Ian he turned into a ball of mush right before everyone’s eyes. The love the two boys held could not be broken by anything, not homophonic dads, beatings, and especially not by a horny sixteen year old girl currently occupying the seat across from him at the kitchen table.   Ian first noticed Holly’s crush on him the first time he had met her. He was twenty at the time and she was only fifteen. Holly had stared so hard and so long at him, Ian’s surprised her eyes didn’t dry out and her drool didn’t flood the whole house. Ian knew Holly was being very obvious on purpose, as if that would make him fuck her. He knew she tried to get with Lip in the past, way back when Mickey was still in juvie for the Kash-n-Grab shoplifting, and she had fooled around with Carl for a little while when his leg was still busted. Ian usually ignored her advances and focused on his boyfriend, but tonight he couldn’t help but notice Holly was on a mission to get into his pants. He would have laughed if she hadn’t been so persistent.   Ian and Mickey had taken their seats at the kitchen table and Holly was quicker than Carl or Debbie at picking a seat, making sure she got the seat directly across from Ian. Ian was uncomfortable, sure, but he just clung tightly to Mickey’s hand and enjoyed the feel of Mickey pressing their legs together under the table. As Ian shoveled the burnt chicken into his mouth, he felt Mickey tense up beside him. Ian started rubbing circles on the back of Mickey’s hand with his thumb, hoping to calm him down a bit. He saw the look Mickey gave Holly but chose to ignore it, just focusing on relieving the sudden tension in his boyfriend.   Mickey got tense once again before glaring again at Holly. “Do you fuckin’ mind not molesting my leg under the table?” Mickey huffed angrily. Holly looked confused and Ian tried so hard to control his laughter. He knew she didn’t know he and Mickey were together and figured he could have some fun with it and see just how far she’d go with it before realizing. He figured she’d give up before the movie even started. When Holly “dropped” her fork and went to investigate, Ian almost lost it. Too fucking funny. Ian turned to an aggravated Mickey and started whispering lowly to him.   “Thank you for coming tonight, baby. I know you would much rather be in our bed while I abuse that perfect ass. Maybe before the movie starts I can take you upstairs so I can fuck your amazing ass real quick. I would love to get on you tonight, baby. Definitely.” Ian whispered hotly in Mickey’s ear, making the dark haired boy blush a deep crimson. Ian knew Mickey didn’t want to be here tonight and he wanted to make up for the too horny sixteen-year-old unknowingly making a fool of herself.   Ian kept his eyes on Mickey even after Holly resurfaced. He watched as Mickey’s facial expression turned from irritation to majorly possessive, and Ian would be lying if he said it didn’t majorly turn him on. Fuck. He had the hottest boyfriend ever. And he was all his.   If you’d have asked Ian a few years ago if he ever thought Mickey would be like he is today, you’d get a big fat hell no. Ian didn’t think Mickey was ever going to come around and be the amazing boyfriend he was today. The Mickey back then wouldn’t let him kiss him, hold him, or really be affectionate at all. Now, Mickey would cling to him any chance he got and he was honestly surprised that the Mickey he used to know is the same one that is holding his hand where everybody can see.   Except Holly, apparently.   When Ian sat on the couch after dinner, he wasn’t surprised to see Mickey scrambling to get the seat next to him before Holly had a chance to. It was cute, and Ian was grateful that not only did he not have to sit next to Holly, but he got to be close to his boyfriend which was always nice. Ian leaned in close to Mickey and put his arm behind Mickey on the couch, enjoying the way Mickey blushed at the closeness. Goddamn, his boyfriend was adorable.   “So, I need to go up to my room to get blankets and shit for the movie.” Ian said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes and before Mickey could even respond, Holly was booking it up the stairs. Mickey was staring after her and Ian couldn’t help but roll his eyes. This girl is sixteen years old. Mickey has absolutely nothing to worry about! Ian just goes along with it when Mickey takes his hand and drags him up the stairs, sending Debs a look over his shoulder that he hoped said control your friend before my boyfriend kills her.   When the boys walk by the upstairs bathroom, Ian sees Mickey peak in and then immediately covers his eyes. “Ah! Fucking Christ! Close the fuckin’ door next time!” Mickey yelled. In the split second between that and Mickey closing the door, he caught a glimpse of a very naked teenaged ass and he immediately busted out laughing. This girl was extremely desperate, wasn’t she? Mickey just continued to drag him to his bedroom, clearly trying to distance himself from Holly and get closer to Ian as fast as possible.   When Ian finally was in his room, he was still laughing as he shut the door. Pretty soon after they were both laughing and Ian kept it going to hear the beautiful sound that was his boyfriend’s laughter.     “Fucking dick. I’m a gay man for Christ’s sakes. I don’t need an eyeful of teenage girl ass. I need an eyeful of Ian ass.” Mickey laughed, and Ian couldn’t help but remember a time where Mickey would never admit to being gay, even with a nine inch dick up his ass. Ian was still lost in thought when he sat on the bed, but smiled when Mickey’s immediate reaction was to straddle him.   When Mickey slotted their lips together, Ian just leaned back on the bed, ready to do every dirty thing he could think of in the little time they had.   **   When Ian and Mickey finally finished doing the do, the movie was already fifteen minutes in. Ian didn’t care if it was obvious they just had sex, they were sweaty, breathing kind of heavy, and Mickey even had a bit of a limp. Ian couldn’t help but smirk at that one, just because he was a cocky son-of-a-bitch. Ian plopped down on the middle of the couch beside Holly and smiled a bit when he felt Mickey wedge himself between Ian and the arm of the couch, not minding the closeness one bit.   When Holly draped the blanket over the three of them, Mickey immediately grabbed onto his hand and rested his head on his shoulder. Ian smiled at this, to himself since he was out of view from both people currently occupying the couch and Debbie, who had taken refuge on the recliner. Ian briefly wondered where Carl had fucked off to, but he shrugged it off to him going to kill a cat or something else Carl does.   Ian smiled whenever a cheesy line came on the rom-com they were watching. Ian leaned over and gave Mickey a kiss whenever they said one, and by the tenth time Mickey expected it and just smiled sleepily and blushed like a tomato when Ian did it. Ian couldn’t help but love when his boyfriend was sleepy, he got even clingier and more often than not would wrap himself around Ian like a koala because he apparently can’t sleep without Ian holding him. Who knew Mickey Milkovich was so fucking cute?   Ian felt Holly place her head on his shoulder and under any normal circumstance he would have gently pushed her off and probably excused himself from the couch.  But tonight, Mickey was just barely awake and there was no way he was going to disturb his boyfriend. Five minutes later, he felt a small hand grab his dick through his sweatpants. He barely noted the domino effect as he sprung out of his seat, anger burning in his eyes.   Mickey and Holly had both tumbled off the couch when Ian got up and Mickey was glancing up at him slightly annoyed at being jolted awake and shoved to the ground. Ian would have thought his confused expression was cute if he wasn’t so pissed at Holly. Ian turned to Holly, the anger in his eyes still blazing.   “What the fuck were you doing just then?” Ian yelled angrily. Mickey just looked between the two, confused for a moment before Ian continued on. “Why the fuck were you grabbing at my dick?” Ian didn’t know how she hadn’t caught on to Ian and Mickey yet. They were very obvious. Ian knew she liked him but he didn’t think she would go this far!   “She did what?” Mickey asked angrily. Ian looked at his boyfriend and he looked as though he was reconsidering all his morals on hitting a girl. Ian watched along as Mickey and Holly had some weird little staring contest before Holly’s face grew smug and Ian knew whatever she was saying was going to be stupid.   “Don’t get mad just because I’m not interested in you, Mickey. Don’t ruin this for your friend, I mean, if I were you I wouldn’t hold him back from getting the best piece of ass around.” Holly was spewing bullshit at this point, and Ian would have laughed if he wasn’t so pissed she’d grabbed his dick in front of Mickey. That was real fucking uncalled for.   Turns out Ian can’t control his laughter after all and does end up laughing. He walked over to Mickey and slung an arm over his clearly worked up boyfriend. Ian leaned down and left a soft kiss against Mickey’s cheek as his anger disappears and he begins to feel bad for the girl. Ian turns to Holly and looks at her with an apologetic look and she just looks like she’s ready to piss herself.   “Actually, Holly, the best piece of ass I’ve ever gotten is Mickey.” Ian had never said something so true in his life. Mickey was the best and Mickey was his. Mickey took Ian by surprise by grabbing his face suddenly and crushing their lips together. Mickey always poured so much emotion in his kisses and Ian wasn’t surprised when this kiss was full of love while still being passionate. Exactly like Mickey. By the time he turned back, Holly’s jaw was on the floor and Ian would have laughed if it was the right moment.   Mickey wrapped an arm around Ian’s waist and Ian felt the warmth radiating off of the arm. Ian smiled as Mickey pulled out his big boy threats for Holly. “If you ever touch my man’s dick in my presence again I will personally break all of your knuckles.” Mickey threatened with barely any emotion. Holly noticeably paled and Ian briefly wondered if they’d gone too far. But Ian knew Mickey wasn’t going to do anything to her so he let it go.   “I- I’m sorry.” Holly mumbled as she plopped back down on the couch, dejectedly. Ian saw her get lost in thought, probably about something that happened tonight, not that he could blame her. The girl was probably humiliated. Ian honestly hadn’t meant to humiliate her but who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to grab someone’s dick in a room full of people? Not to mention that he was five years older than her and didn’t want to deal with that mess.   Ian just threw himself down in Mickey’s previous position near the arm of the couch, clearly trying to put space between him and Holly. Ian knew Mickey wasn’t going to want to sit next to Holly and very much knew what Mickey’s favorite seat was, and that it was available.   So, when Ian felt Mickey plop down onto his lap sideways, barely able to keep his eyes open as he kept his head buried in the crook of Ian’s neck, he just smiled. He felt the kisses there and his heart fluttered with love for this amazing boy. The amazing boy that was all his and nobody could come between them.   And if Ian just held Mickey as he slept through the rest of the movie? Well that’s nobody’s business.

Hermione joined Ron for lunch in the atrium of the Ministry. The Australian contingent had requested a meeting with her after they finished with the Minister. Since she’d be at the Ministry anyway, Hermione decided to catch up with Ron, who was now working there. After the fall of Carding, Ron and quit his job as an auror to start afresh. Ron had followed his brother’s path into Curse-breaking and had finally achieved the enviable combination of working hard at something he loved. He still, Hermione decided with affectionate exasperation, ate like a pig. The atrium’s roof soared high above them, Hermione used to love looking up at the fractal scattered pattern of the roof panels reaching up to the glazing above. She wasn’t exactly sure whether the light that streamed in was natural or magical but it was beautiful all the same. It was probably the only part of the Ministry she had missed. Working on Draco’s project had re-energised Hermione after the devastation of discovering her years of pushing for equality for all magical beings had been a complete write-off. This time she was starting smaller, and focusing all her energy on breaking down stereotypes in the younger generations. But she hadn’t given up on her other dreams. She’d just shelved them temporarily until an opportunity presented itself. “Bloody Merlin’s beard ‘Mione, that all sounds completely horrible,” was Ron’s first comment after she blurted out a watered down version of what she’d seen in Severus’ memories. She had desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, but obviously couldn’t burden Severus, and Harry still had a lot of his own demons from that time yet to be exorcised. “I actually can’t believe some of the things he did,” Hermione said. “Or some of things he didn’t do, more to the point,” Ron added, ripping apart a bread roll. “Yes, that too,” she sighed. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone outside the family,” Ron said hesitantly. Hermione put down her own sandwich, as if holding the bread would interfere with her ability to listen. “What?” She asked. “The Ministry called Ginny in a few years ago for questioning,” “Questioning? What about?” “About what Snape did while he was Headmaster,” Ron answered quietly. “What, besides saving everyone’s bloody life?” Hermione said angrily and Ron made a shushing motion. She clamped down on her annoyance. “Obviously they weren’t the biggest fans of him, you know, because of the whole double-agent business remember?” Ron reminded her. Hermione blushed. She’d lately been noticing her lack of rationality on topics involving Severus. She felt such an overwhelming desire for him to be happy that somehow got mixed up into feelings of overprotectiveness. She worried constantly that she would scare him off. She wasn’t under any false impressions of her charms, and definitely thought she was hexing above her weight with him. She felt every day could potentially be the day he found out he could actually have any witch he wanted, and didn’t have to settle for her. His reaction in Minerva’s office had frightened her. Was it really that easy for him to decide they shouldn’t be together? “Sorry,” she said. “They got Dad to head up an investigation to bring a prosecution case against him; for charges relating to administration of the Cruciatus on underage wizards and witches,” “Oh,” Hermione breathed. She couldn’t believe it. Or actually, she could believe it. She’d seen it in the Pensieve after all. She could still see the drawn, desperate face he’d worn that horrible year when she closed her eyes at night. It never ended, never, never. “Dad wasn’t entirely sure on why it was necessary to prosecute a dead man, and even why they transferred him to the section to do it, but he decided that if he ran it, then he could at least make sure it was done properly,” “Go Mr Weasley!” Hermione whispered. “Well obviously he needed witnesses right? Luna, Cho, Neville.....” “Ginny,” Hermione guessed. Ron nodded. “Except what did Dad find out? Every single memory was fabricated. The Ministry was fuming, they couldn’t prosecute him for a a crime he didn’t commit. However there was one he did commit—“ “The Memory Charms,” said Hermione sadly. “Yes. It took a long time for Ministry experts to unpick the false implants and remove them without damaging their minds,” Ron explained as Hermione listened, transfixed. “There is residue in there, Ginny’s told me. She said they removed almost everything, except she says it’s like a whispery dream. But with the removal they took the false and left the real. So they all have Snape’s real memory of being tortured,” Ron finished. “Oh shit,” Hermione said. Ron shrugged.“Yep. Ginny said it’s weird, like being in a Pensieve almost. They all signed a secrecy agreement, but Ginny said the Ministry was a bunch of misogynistic twats and she couldn’t give a shit what she signed,” he smiled at the fist-pump of solidarity Hermione had given upon hearing Ginny’s opinion on the previous Ministry. “Is that why Ginny left?” Hermione asked. “Mostly,” Ron said. “It was her dream to play Quidditch, but she also wanted to get away. I mean, Riddle’s diary forced Voldemort into her head, then Snape got in there as well.” “Understandable,” Hermione said. “She loved Harry, but she said she was too mixed up to be with anyone....needed to sort herself out,” Ron said. “I adore Ginny,” said Hermione. “That’s so sensible.” Ron nodded, then looked nervous. “Have you, um, maybe, um thought Snape is perhaps too mixed up?” He asked, the blush that overtook his face seemed to signal even his body couldn’t believe what he’d had the courage to say. “Too mixed up to be with me?” Hermione asked, hurt. “No, you’re amazing. Terrifying, sure, but amazing,” Ron said seriously. “I mean.... with anyone. I mean, no one can live through what he did and be, you know, normal,” “You lived with him!” Hermione protested. “Yeah, but...well...he’s obviously perfected putting on a fake front right? Look,” he said hurriedly obviously worried Hermione was going to cry or explode or crysplode, “I’m your best mate aren’t I?” She nodded. “Well that means I get to be all protective and threatening,” he said. “Although don’t actually tell Snape that as I’m fairly sure he could completely destroy me with minimal effort.” Hermione smiled. “I love you, you stupid idiot,” she said. He grinned. “But—and don’t vomit—I love Severus too. I really do,” Hermione said. “If he’s a bit broken well, then, it’s not as if he doesn’t know it. And I’m certainly not in a position to throw rocks,” she added, placing a hand over her shirt-buttons that covered the raised scar on her sternum. “No one is,” agreed Ron. He grinned. “Well I’ve done my brotherly duty for this week, can you please pass me that bread roll?” Hermione laughed. She understood his concern, she really did. After all, she worried a little about Ron sometimes. Harry had told Hermione that Ron had been somewhat introspective after she’d moved out. They’d both jokingly agreed that such a condition was probably a novel experience for Ron, and he would certainly need their support to work through it. Hermione had thought, in a way, it had signalled the end of something. After all, they’d been together, in their little trio, since they were eleven. They’d moved in together straight after school and spent the years afterwards thicker than proverbial thieves. She’d been the one to break this when she moved into Spinner’s End. Harry had let it slip that Ron had fretted for days and at one point even resorted to asked Kreacher if Hermione was happy where she was. Ron, Harry had decided with the hubris of someone who didn’t spend a great deal of time concerned with the feelings of others, missed Hermione. Family was a particular trigger point for him after Nagini’s attack on his father; Ginny’s possession, Fred’s death and the latest unsuccessful Death Eaters versus Molly Weasley dramatic showdown. Ron didn’t want to lose anyone else. Hermione understood, and she had made an effort to go back to Grimmauld Place more regularly since the boys were too terrified to visit Spinner’s End. Hermione had thought....hoped?...Severus might have got a bit jealous when she started being away more. But he didn’t. While she decided that was definitely a good thing, a very silly, immature part of her wished he’d perhaps show a tiny but of interest in who she met with. But that, Hermione had decided, was insecurity talking. And she was not insecure, at all, being the strong, independent witch that she was. That she definitely was. Right? But there was perhaps a slight, small, or maybe even insignificant issue she hadn’t quite dealt with. Hermione imagined Severus’ mind would be like a well-organised gallery or showroom, with everything neatly laid out, labelled and alphabetical. Perhaps in there would be a ‘One True Love’ plaque underneath a too-beautiful for words Lily Potter statue, Hermione thought glumly. And in some dimly lit corridor she’d find a ‘She’ll do’ statue of her, complete with unmanageable hair and problematic teeth. If there even was a statue. Maybe she’d be relegated only to a bust, or perhaps a card, filed away with an appropriate Dewey reference. Hermione sighed to herself. Maybe she was overthinking things. After all, he travelled to Australia, fixed her parents with no concern to the implications for himself....sorted out Skeeter. He wasn’t a man of romantic words, she decided, he was more a ‘demonstrate through actions’ type of wizard. “Hello,” said a voice and Hermione both looked up. It was one of the Australian men, Chris. “Oh hello!” Said Hermione. “Gough is working out something with the Minister and Severus,” he said. “I’ve been left to my own devices. Which is always a dangerous idea.” “Would you like to join us?” Hermione asked. “Oh, and this is my friend Ron. Ron, this is Chris.” “Yes, I recognised him,” Chris said shaking a bemused Ron’s hand and sitting down. “Nice to meet you,” Ron said. “And good timing as I’ve got to go which means you can keep Hermione company. I’m meeting up with the Antiquities Section on a particularly tricky little amulet that’s giving spikes to everyone within a two feet radius.” “Sounds useful but potentially unsightly,” commented Chris. “Exactly,” laughed Ron, pushing back his chair to stand up. He gave Hermione a peck on the cheek and walked off towards the lifts. “I wanted to talk to you without Gough anyway,” said Chris. “So this is serendipitous.” “Intriguing,” smiled Hermione, “go on.” “Basila had a lot of friends in the military, and we did quite a bit of fund raising. So, we think what we could use it for is an exchange,” Chris explained. “Exchange?” Asked Hermione. “Yeah,” Chris said, “between Hogwarts and our school. A semester.” “That sounds great!” Hermione exclaimed. “We also had an idea about your group,” After the Pensieve viewing spectacular where Severus had.....er......needed a bit of space, Hermione had spent some time talking with Chris. She’d been really interested in the differences between the two countries, as had he, and she’d ended up giving him a potted history of her and Draco’s pet project. Until Severus, Hermione was used to males who half-listened to her, smiled vacantly and who were obviously thinking about Quidditch...or themselves...or themselves playing Quidditch...about two minutes into anything she tried to tell them. Chris, however, was cut from Severus cloth. He listened, asked questions and contributed meaningfully. Hermione had been in windbag heaven. “We were also thinking of something involving your group as well. We have a lot of areas where we’ve combined muggle and magical. It would fit in well with your excursions. Plus, I mean, we could hold it in your winter so extra bonus for the kids right?” He grinned at her. Hermione grinned back. “Yes! That would be fantastic.” “Gough also has another surprise for you,” Chris continued with the air of a man on a Good News binge. “Yes?” “He got Severus’ entry ban overturned. We’ve decided to let him come back. Provided of course he keeps out of people’s minds.” Hermione crowed ecstatically. “Brilliant! Brilliant!” She could hardly restrain herself and pummeled the table in excitement. Severus, walking to the left of Gough, could see a very excited Hermione talking to Chris. She was waving her hands around erratically, which generally meant she was thoroughly engaged in a conversation. Typically, he tended to be the other participant in the aforementioned conversation. She never seem to get as animated talking to Potter and Weasley, but who could blame her really. Severus decided it was odd to see her in full flight talking to someone else. He felt funny about it, although he wasn’t quite sure what was wrong, beyond an uneasy feeling that he wanted to be the one that made her laugh and knock cups over with her flailing arms. Not a handsome, blonde Australian with disturbingly thick biceps. As he neared their table, Chris obviously said something amusing as Hermione roared with laughter and immediately spilt her drink. He frowned. At that moment Hermione looked around and saw him. Her smile broadened and she pushed out her chair and practically bounced over to him. Severus felt himself relax slightly. That was his smile, the one she saved for him. “Hello!” Hermione said looking up at him. “All done?” “Yes,” he said. “Are you going to Hogwarts now?” “Yes,” he said a little uncomfortably. Hermione reached out and grasped his right hand, squeezing it gently. “I hope everything goes all right, and going back there isn’t too, you know, awful,” “I anticipate it being very awful,” Severus answered. “But I do have to go back there.” “I’ve just owled Draco to meet me here to discuss a great idea that Chris has just outlined to me. It’s really exciting, I’ll tell you about it later,” Hermione told him cheerily and he attempted an encouraging smile. Severus decided he must not have passed the correct message to his facial messages as she looked a bit crestfallen at his expression. “Oh, um, if you are coming back home that is. I mean, if it is going to be really bad, do you need some space? I can go visit the boys if you’d like,” Hermione babbled at him. You are an idiot, Severus admonished himself. He obviously couldn’t trust his face to do anything helpful in the current situation. His hands, however. He lifted them and drew her towards him. “I’ll be fine,” he lied. “I’ll see you at home later.” In direct contradiction to his years of wrathfully stripping House points from miscreants indulging in public displays of affection, and right in the middle of the busy atrium he bent down and kissed her. She wriggled delightfully closer to him, and sighed a small, soft sigh as she responded very agreeably to his lips. He lifted his head from hers, noting she’d turned quite a fetching shade across her cheeks. Severus allowed himself a smug smile. “Yes. Later,” Hermione repeated, and she was smiling again. Severus held that smile in his mind as he arrived at the gates of the familiar castle. A dark oppressive malaise threatened to creep up on him but he pushed it away. He watched the figure of Filius approaching down the path. Severus could feel the wards wouldn’t deny him entry, but instead he waited for the escort. Hogwarts wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter 51July 1st, 1993France Harry slowly woke up and found a warm weight on his chest belonging to his naked girlfriend. Fleur was curled around him, her arms around him with her legs locked around one of his legs. He had to laugh at the position she put herself in because he knew that they didn’t go to sleep like that.He placed small kisses on the side of her neck and stroked up and down her back to rouse her from her sleep, making the sleeping girl squirm.“Wake up, dear,” Harry whispered to his girlfriend. Said girlfriend half opened her eyes and looked up at him which made her look very cute.She smiled back before snuggling more into his chest.“I don’t wanna wake up,” Fleur mumbled, gripping Harry tighter.Harry laughed before unhooking her arms that were around him“But you have to,” Harry said to which Fleur let out a little grunt of frustration. She pouted at him with her arms under her chest, causing certain features to stand out. Harry stared at her body, marveling at her beauty. Fleur saw him looking at her and gave him a sexy smile.“Coming?” she said as she got up and walked towards the bathroom, swaying her hips. Harry smirked as he got up and followed her.He smiled as he remembered how great it was to be in a relationship with Fleur and how their first time had been---------------------------------------------Lemon SceneNo one underage may viewYou have been warnedHarry sleepily woke up as he felt something press into his erection. He opened his eyes to see Fleur rubbing her bum back against him as they were spooned up together. They had apparently switched positions in the night, and Harry was hugging her back to his chest as they lay in bed.Raising his head up a bit to look at her face, he could tell that she was still asleep, but probably having a very nice dream if her actions were anything to go by.The young man started to kiss the back of her neck, making her moan in her sleep. Harry saw her eyes flutter open and stiffen from the contact. She relaxed though when she saw that it was Harry.“Morning Fleur,” Harry whispered into her ear. He let one of his hands drift down until it came into contact with the band of her knickers.“You can go ahead,” Fleur whispered. Harry moved his hand down the rest of the way and cupped her sex. He gently slipped one finger around the elastic on the band and slowly rubbed down her bald slit, making her moan. His finger found her tight hole and slowly slipped its way in.“Mmmmm,” Fleur moaned out, as Harry continued to kiss her neck, ears, and turned her head so that he could nibble on her lips. Slowly and tenderly, he loosened her up enough to add another finger. After a few minutes, he felt her inner muscles clench on his fingers as she went through an orgasm. As her orgasm ended, Fleur rolled them over so that she was on top of Harry.She shimmied her body down his and under the covers until Harry could feel her pull down the band of his sleeping pants; her hot moist breath on his manhood.“So big Harry,” Fleur said before licking up the side of his manhood. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his mouth as he then felt Fleur engulf him.“Bloody Hell! That feels so good Fleur,” Harry gasped out. Due to his relative newness at this he couldn’t very well take the warmth and suction of Fleur’s actions, so after a few minutes, he came into Fleur’s mouth with a grunt. She swallowed his cum as it spurted out of his cock. Fleur took the time to remove his boxers completely. She stood up with her back to Harry. The girl bent over and slipped her knickers fully down her legs. Harry groaned at the sight as she turned around and bit her lip.“I don’t want to wait, Harry,” Fleur purred huskily. Harry nodded his head and she climbed into his lap. She used her wand to cast the Contraceptive Charm on herself before throwing her wand to the side. Fleur grasped his cock and lined it up with her wet opening. She slowly sank onto him until he bumped into her hymen which made her wince. After taking a deep breath, she plunged down until all of Harry’s cock was in her.“Please don’t move,” Fleur whispered. She knew it was supposed to hurt but this was still a surprise for her first time. “I think we should have loosened me up more before doing this.” A few tears leaked out of her eyes. Harry wiped them away before kissing her tenderly.“Relax love,” Harry whispered. “I won’t move until you tell me to.” Fleur hesitantly moved her hips slightly. After she discerned the pain was lessening, she started to slowly rock her hips back and forth.Fleur purred her approval while squeezing at his organ with the muscles in her rectum. They both felt the intimacy of this moment. Fleur surrendered herself fully to her man and Harry gladly took the offer plunging into her with unstopping rhythm and focus. It was all about his beautiful girl pressed on top of him for Harry. For Fleur, her mind was focused solely on the pleasure of the moment, her body on fire with need and arousal. Her juices leaked from her slit along her thighs in ever increasing amounts. Fleur’s butt muscles continually squeezed and released his organ as it pushed and pulled through her sphincter. Fleur’s mind came back to awareness of the outside world as she felt her pussy feeling that it was going to explode. She rubbed her flower as she began to feel the Harrys prick picking up speed. Her belly muscles tightened while her thigh muscles flexed to rock her hips back and forth. She was actively driving her rear up into the thrusts of her man. “I’m going to cum,” Fleur gasped out as she plunged herself down onto Harry’s cock as far as it would go. Harry’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he felt the pleasure of Fleur’s inner muscles gripping and fluttering around him. With a grunt, he forcibly came into her and a primal scream of ecstasy escaped Fleurs throat as she threw her hips back one last time and began to orgasm... Both pulled each other tightly to their chests, lips locked in ecstasy.After a few minutes where their actions and lip lock slowed, they both breathed heavily as they tried to catch their breath from the intensity of the experience.“That was amazing,” Fleur said. Harry nodded in agreement. They relaxed until Harry felt himself harden inside of her again.Here we go again.Lemon EndYou may read again if underage“That was amazing,” Harry whispered to her“Oui,” Fleur whispered back.---------------------------------------------------------The Next MorningFleur sat down at the breakfast table carefully as she was still sore from last night.“I knew you two wouldn’t be able to wait,” Fleur heard Appoline say in her ear as she laid food on the table. Fleur blushed as her mama sat down at the table muttering something about horny teens.“So, how was it?” Apolline asked.“It was painful at first but after about thirty seconds, the pain started to go away and it started to feel better,” Fleur said truthfully.“And just how long did you two go at it?” Apolline asked with a small smile.“I’m not sure,” Fleur answered as she tried to focus her sleep-deprived brain.“Morning Flower,” Harry said coming up and kissing her.“Harry” Fleur squeaked before hugging her boyfriend.“I missed you too Fleur,” Harry chuckled amused. He whispered the next part, “But can you get off me? Your body is making certain areas grow.”Fleur shot up off of him blushing as she remembered that they had other people watching. Harry chuckled as he stood up and wrapped her in a tight hug.He massaged her neck making her almost purr.“Harry, you’ve gone sappy on me,” a voice was heard, making Harry and Fleur break apart. The voice belonged to his mentor Isaac Patterson.“Okay, maybe I'm a little sappy,” Harry admitted. “But Fleur is worth being a little sappy.”“Way to make a girl feel loved,” Fleur muttered with a huge blush on her face.They all laughed.Author Note I know this chapter was mostly a lemon scene and I don't intend to have this be every chapter but at least a bit.

  It was now nearing 9 months since the chaos of the Civil War, and Tony actually felt comfortable with his team. Carol and Rhodey worked flawlessly together, which always caused Peter and Tony teasing him. During one of the team exercises Peter and Tony watched as Carol went against Hope, and how both were holding out rather well. “Major Danvers is so cool.” Peter sighed as Carol threw Hope out of the ring. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Tony chuckled. “Colonel Rhodes is gonna ask Major Danvers out after this.” Peter said, smiling up at his mentor. It was a running joke between the two of them, saying something new when the other said ‘tell me something I don’t know’ or ‘what else is new’. It was nice, having that type of relationship again. Tony didn’t think he’d ever have that again, not after the Civil War. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.” Tony gaped at him. Peter laughed. “Nope! Heard him muttering to himself this morning. He wanted to wait till after the training so ‘Tones isn’t there to mess with me’.” Peter deepened his voice to mimic Tony’s best friend. Tony started cracking up. “That is precious! Oh I so want to mess with my honey bear now.” Peter looked alarmed, before putting a hand on his arm. “Oh please don’t Tony, or we’ll have to watch them flirt for even longer!” He whined. Tony just chuckled, smiling warmly at the boy. He finally got Peter to start calling him ‘Tony’ instead of ‘Mr. Stark’ which he considered a win. “Fine fine, I won’t bother him.” He looked to Carol helping Hope up. “Hey Major! We done here? Spidey’s gotta get home soon!” He called. Even though no one outside of the compound knew his identity, Peter had gotten comfortable enough to let other’s see him without his mask, and some to even know his name. Carol laughed, heading over to them. “Of course. We’ll see you this weekend right Peter?” Since coming out to his aunt, Peter started spending every other weekend at the compound, in the east wing with Tony. Peter nodded, bouncing a bit. “Yup! After Tony and I have dinner with May.” “That’s right it’s Thai night this Friday right? Wouldn’t miss it.” Tony ruffled his hair before heading to the door, knowing Peter would follow. “Oh and Honey Bear!” He called to Rhodey who was standing on the opposite side with a tablet. Once he looked up to the genius Tony grinned madly. “Good luck!” At hearing his friend sputter he cracked up as he put his arm around his mentee. “Tony you’re so mean!” Peter exclaimed, but laughed still. Tony chuckled, following the kid out to the front of the compound. “I’ll text you when I get home ok?” He was already wearing his spider suit from training, and he had his bag slung over his shoulder. “You better. Also try not to find too much trouble on the way home. It is a school night and May will kill me if you’re too late!” Tony smirked at him, knowing full well Peter would usually stop a few muggings or what not before getting into his Queens apartment. “I know I know! She yelled at me for twenty minutes last time!” Peter laughed, pulling his mask over his face. “Night Tony!” Tony waved, watching Peter leave. Once he knew the kid was gone he headed down to his lab. He had work to do, both for the Avengers and SI. First he’d work on finding more for his team. He had already reached out to a team in Hell’s Kitchen that called themselves the Defenders, and he was hoping to hear back from either a Luke Cage or a Jessica Jones. He was looking into a ‘Xavier Institute’ when Friday interrupted. “Boss, something’s wrong with Peter. I lost contact with Karen while he was stopping an assault and I cannot reconnect with her.” Friday spoke, sounding alarmed and concerned. Tony froze for half a second before bolting out of his lab. “Give me last coordinates Fri, and let Carol and Rhodey know what’s up. Do we still have the training wheels protocol installed?” He said as soon as his armor was around him. He was still working on his nano tech to create the ‘Bleeding Edge’ armor he wanted, but for now his Mark XLVII would do. “We have limited training wheels protocol, at least enough we can see what Peter saw before disconnection. I’ve already alerted Colonel Rhodes and Major Danvers.” Friday flew the suit while Tony watched on one of the HUD screens a visual come up. Looked like Peter hadn’t listened and was stopping three thugs from trying to hurt…a homeless girl? And things were ok, until one of the thugs stomped their foot and Tony could only watch in strange fascination as the street suddenly broke apart and shot up, trying to hurt Peter. “What the…Friday what am I seeing here?!” He watched then as Peter jumped away, only to be shocked suddenly electrocuted by another thug, causing the feed to cut. “I’m…not sure boss. I’ve been trying to go through it to see what they’re using to cause such damage but I’m not finding anything visual.” They were nearing where Peter last was. “Hopefully we’ll get some answers, and the kid’s ok.” Tony was trying not to panic, but he could feel it slowly bubble up. They made it to the street, and Tony landed, seeing Peter in full Spider-Man gear unconscious. The street looked like something had ripped out of it, and when he landed all eyes turned to him. “Scuse me, you have a permit to tear up the street like this?” He called out, seeing that the thugs were two guys and a girl. The one from the video who had torn up the street before stepped up, but before he could stomp again Tony raised his repulsors at him, causing him to pause. “Now now, let’s not do anymore damage.” Tony was concerned because Peter hadn’t moved yet. “We’re just here to get one of ours back.” The other guy yelled, grabbing at the homeless looking girl who had been trying to stay between Peter and the three. “Seems like she doesn’t want to go with you.” “She doesn’t have a choice.” The woman growled. “Come now Ana, you’ve cause enough trouble. Just come back and Father will forgive you.” She spoke to the girl, who had to be no older then 15-16. The girl looked to Tony, blue grey eyes focusing on him, before back to the woman. “He’s right Rebecca. I don’t want to go back and I am not going back.” Her voice quivered only a bit at the end, but she still stared them down. “Really?” The woman sneered. “You’d abandon your family?!” “The only family I have there is Michael and Mia, and I will get them back. But I’m not going with you, I will not go back to your precious Father, and I’m not letting you near Spiderman!” Ana yelled back at her. “You heard the little lady.” Tony said as he stepped forward. “Back off.” He could see exactly when the stomping man decided to act and shot up before the concrete that he was standing on exploded. “How are you doing that?” He questioned, Friday already running through what was seen. He shot at the stomper, knocking him out with a sonic blast. “Sorry, tricks of the trade” The other man growled, watching as Tony landed next to Peter. Tony then let his helmet retract as he kneeled and checked Peter’s pulse. It was going strong, letting the tension Tony had easily fall off before glaring at the woman who seemed to be itching to get closer to the three of them. “Back off. Now.” He straightened, letting his helmet fold over him and lifted one of his repulsors on her. Ana seemed to move closer to him, and he glanced over to notice she was removing her torn up clothes. “You heard Iron Man. Back off. Go sniveling back to Johnathan.” Apparently having Iron Man next to her gave her more confidence. “Keep talking shit Ana but you know damn well if we keep coming up empty handed Father will just take it out on Michelle. Little freak deserves—” The woman was cut off by what looked to be a white ribbon shooting out and wrapping around her neck, choking her. For a moment Tony thought Peter had woken up, and that maybe whatever caused him to collapse make his web shooters act up, but no. It wasn’t Peter at all. He turned to see that it was coming…from Ana? She had her hand out towards the woman, ribbon coming out of her palm. It looked like it had ripped straight out of her flesh and continued to pull itself out as the woman continued to be choked and then raised from the ground. “Shut up Rebecca. Shut up shut up shut up!” Ana snarled, and Tony could see Rebecca was starting to turn purple. “Kid…” He gently touched her shoulder. “You’re gonna kill her. And I don’t think your siblings would appreciate you doing that…so just…unribbon her?” She had flinched when he touched her, but seemed to listen and dropped Rebecca. The ribbon then shuttered and dissolved into thin air. “Good, that’s good. You alright?” He kept an eye at the now coughing woman and her last companion, but wanted to make sure the teen wasn’t hurt. “As alright as possible in this situation.” She said, looking up to him. She was now holding her hand that had the ribbon come out, as if in pain. “That’s ok, let’s get these two apprehended and you can tell me what’s going on.” Tony spoke softly, and turned when he heard a groan from behind him. “You alright Spider-Man?” He asked, keeping a repulsor on the two while helping Peter up. “Mr. Stark? Er..Tony…Iron Man yeah I’m just…what happened?” Seems that Peter was a little confused but took his hand, shaking his head. “Last thing I remember is—” He looked at Ana, then the two other people, and pulled Ana away to be shielded by himself and Tony. “These guys have been assaulting homeless people! And they were trying to take her!” He got into an offensive position. “Yeah caught that. Let’s get them taken care of yeah?” Tony let his repulsor hum to life, watching as the woman Rebecca put her hands close together to create a spark of electricity. That must’ve been what shocked Peter. The other man stepped back and began to chant Before Rebecca could do anything Peter webbed her hands, and then tried to web the other. It hit something invisible, like a wall of some sort so it didn’t hit him. He continued to chant, not noticing a strange orange portal opening up behind him. “Whoa, what is that?!” Peter asked, stepping back. Tony felt the icy prick of panic in his chest. He never got over portals after New York, and wasn’t sure what going to happen. To his surprise golden sparking chains suddenly shot out and wrapped up the chanting man, cutting him off. “The fuck?!” He yelled, struggling. From the portal stepped out a man that looked familiar to Tony. He wore strange blue robes, and had a god awful red cape that seemed to move with no wind around. “One of yours?” He asked the girl behind him. “No…none of them can do portals like that.” She said, stepping up to stand by Peter. “Apologies for interrupting this…scuffle.” The man called to them, looking at the mess of the street. “But I figured you may need help when it came to magic.Tony and Peter looked at each other confused, before Tony lowered his repulsor slightly. “So you’re…here to help?” The portal behind the man shut, and he chuckled at Peters question. “Yes. We sensed abnormal magic and so I came to find out what was going on.” “And you are what? The king of magicians?” Tony asked, seeing the cape behind him move almost as if it had a mind of its own. The man chuckled but shook his head. “No. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. I’m the sorcerer supreme.”

Sex has never this big, life-changing thing for me. I've had a couple long-ish relationship, drunken one night stands I don't care to remember, and the occasional hook up that should've never happened in the first place. With the exception of a few close relationships, sex has always been a means to an end. Whether I was horny or in need of some companionship—sometimes both—someone just as desperate would always be there to scratch that itch. Sometimes even multiple people if I was in the right mood. Then I would go about my daily routine, taking care of my needs with the help of a trusty rabbit, until I craved that all too familiar touch; seeking it out in some hyped up club or an obnoxiously loud and packed frat party. I've had some really great sex and some...not so great, but never has it been this mind-blowing thing for me. That is until I met him. The thing is, I wasn't even supposed to go to that party. At first I turned down the invitation from my friend, making up some lame excuse about studying and still recovering from the bar the previous night. I only accepted my friend's nagging requests to go with her when I found out the party was hosted by the infamous wealthy kid; my piqued curiosity getting the best of me. Hey, she wasn't any better. I found out weeks later she just wanted to go to potentially hook up with a guy she'd been chasing after for most of the year. We all had our reasons to go to that party; some shallow and some not so shallow, but mine was never to find someone who would completely change my ideas of love and relationships forever. We're not a perfect couple by any stretch of the imagination, but our relationship works for us. We love each other, we communicate, and are open and honest with each other. Plus he's fucking hot, the conversations are great, and the sex is pretty damn awesome, so...you know...add those to the pro side of the list. All in all, if it came down to it, I would be incredibly happy just being with him in what society deems to be a "normal relationship". However, normal...never really been our thing. ~~~~~~~~~~ As open as most of the floor plan was for Rush, through secret doors and down long, darker corridors of the upper floor hid smaller rooms for the members to seek out and explore; some comparatively tamer than others. Each room varied in size and decor; from old world elegance to sleek and modern to a futuristic playground and everything in between. The masquerade of it all was beginning to wind down, but the majority of the upper floor was still packed with members enjoying all the main areas and all of the secluded rooms. The majority of the members still had their masks on, wanting to prolong the fantasy, but some did opt to take them off while they had the freedom to do so. Down on the first floor, Rush strictly prohibited any patron or member from taking off their masks, but allowed members to take them off on the upper floors. This was to ensure the anonymity and privacy of everyone while still giving members an option if they do choose to. The low lights from various antique fixtures casted a reddish golden glow around the room, beautifully decorated to look like a vintage french parlor. Smoke, sex and that uniquely Rush scent engulfed the room, encapsulating the gathering group of members watching one of the current shows of four women slowly eating each other out. Their bodies looked rather uncomfortable tangled amongst each other, looking as if they fell into their current positions on the cozy makeshift bed. However, from the loud pitch of their muffled moans, I doubt any of them really cared about the weird positions they were in. Fuck, he looked hot with his cock in her mouth. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, and his soft breaths passed through his parted lips. Her soft pink lips were wrapped tightly around his cock; well paced bobs of her head caused him to grab onto a large chunk of her honeyed curls. She seemed to really enjoy this from her muffled moans and her French tipped nails scraping down his bare thighs. An open bottle of Moet in a silver ice pail sat idle on the low antique wood table between us; condensation forming on the thick green glass. Two empty champagne glasses also sat on the table next to a half eaten cheese board with Lorde's brooding voice flowing through speakers situated around the open area. I would never in a million years mind a quiet Saturday night at home, watching Netflix and chilling under the covers with him. However, watching him get a blowjob from a gorgeous model while I sipped on expensive champagne as her equally gorgeous significant other fingered my already wet pussy, wasn't a bad situation to be in either. I smirked from behind the champagne glass as I caught the attention of those dark and hooded eyes. They were an even better site to see them gazing at me from across the seating area; the passionate stare warming my body more than any champagne flowing throughout my body could ever do. His raspy groan carried across the room when her tongue slowly dragged along the underside of his cock, just before moving down to suck his swollen balls. She then wrapped her small hand around the base and leisurely jacked him off; small beads of precum spurting slowly from the reddened tip. "Who do you want to be?" "Either," I said, moaning as the dark eyes slowly averted down to watch her tongue lick the dripping pearls. "Both." Michael chuckled, his fingers slowly teasing my clit. "You know, she's talked about the two of you before?" "She has?" "I wasn't at the agency at the time she met you. But, when we really got to know each other, she told me about the two of you." "Did you know at the time you knew one of us?" I asked, setting my empty glass on the end table next to me. "Kind of," Michael said, turning into me when my hand splayed over the bulge in his pants. "You didn't sounds familiar at all, obviously since I hadn't met you yet. But when she described him, something about it sounded a little familiar. Never thought it actually would be someone I knew." I let out a shuddered breath and watched his eyes again meet mine from across the room, biting my lip at the sexy grin that appeared when I opened my legs a little more. His eyes moved down and watched Michael's fingers continue their slow torture on my wet pussy. "It's a small world I guess." Another moan left my lips when I felt the little nip of Michael's teeth on the outer shell of my ear. "Yeah it is," he said and placed tender kisses across my neck. The groans underneath my ear and soft bites sent a shiver down my spine, prolonging it with a graze of his rough thumb over my hardened nipple. My hand slowly massaged the growing bulge in his pants, feeling the soft leather of his belt against my forearm; fleeting thoughts of another belt passing through my mind. I wanted to watch him completely come undone, relish in the groans and sharp breaths caused by her, but my eyes finally slid shut when Michael slipped two of his fingers inside me. Fuck, he was good at this. My foot kicked the leg of the table as I slipped my heels off, catching the attention of him. Loud drunken laughter, low chatter, and a variety of sexual clamor was heard all around the room, including some distant moaning yells from outside the doors. It was not uncommon for members to continue their playful trysts right out in the halls. The sound of a loud bang against the stark white walls, a soft thud to the white marbled floors. Sex was everywhere in Rush, you couldn't escape it. Not that anyone was really trying to. We all craved it, embraced it here. We all found relief here from the monotonous daily grind, found solace here from the pressures of social expectations, and found support here to go about our lives the way we truly wanted to live them. At this very moment, I was getting finger-fucked by the friend of the only person I could pretty much see spending the rest of my life with while he was intently watching the whole debauched scene from across room, getting an amazing blowjob from said friend's significant other. None of us were jealous or cheating or embarrassed. Instead, we were enjoying each other, indulging and losing ourselves to the sexually charged moment. Michael's eyes widened when I pushed him back onto the couch, but his face instantly changed when I climbed into his lap and kissed him. It was different than his, though, not in a bad way. It just wasn't him. But, in some weird way, it made me want him even more. I craved his lips, his touch, his scent all around me. Those delicious groans in my ear, hands dragging over me, lips and tongue teasing me down to my very soul. I needed him, but I also wanted them. His hands hesitated slightly on the loose tie around my waist. "Don't think," I moaned into his mouth, my teeth nibbling his bottom lip. "Just feel. Look at them. Look around you." We both turned to see her sliding a condom down his cock, aimlessly chatting about something we couldn't hear due to all of the noise. Soft laughter could be seen between the two as he spread out onto the vintage cream tapestry French sofa, helping her to straddle his hard cock. One of the staff members walked behind the couch to one of the large fireplaces throughout the room, tending to the fire as she slid down onto him; moans loudly coming from both of them. I turned my head and leaned down, my tongue slowly tracing the shell of his ear. "Doesn't it make you want her even more?" I said in a whisper so quiet, I'd be surprised if he even heard me. The tie was gone in an instant, along with my robe, his shirt and the leather belt. All of it thrown haphazardly onto the hardwood floor as he pulled me into his rough kiss. The crescendo of moans and murmurs swelled to a deafening pitch as the women came in writhing succession. Onlookers watched from various vantage points while others participated with the women, reaching their high along with them. Long legs tangled together, hands petting over sensitive areas, and lips fully consumed in one another; the waves of their orgasms dissipating amongst gawking eyes. When the show was complete, they climbed gracefully off the rumpled bed, seamlessly making way for the next act. A low, sensual jazzy intro played as a large male climbed onto the bed, face down and spread out, waiting for what was to come. White stilettos clicked on the wooden floor, signaling the entrance of a very tall woman, clad in low hung white leather pants that looked almost painted on, and a matching sleeveless crop top that barely held in her perfect breasts. A fiery reddish orange messy bun sat gracefully on top of her head and full lips painted the perfect shade of red grinned with every gasp and moan floating her way. The condom easily slid down Michael's hard cock; his fingers gliding through my hair as his eyes were glued to them. Head thrown back, teeth firmly attached to her bottom lip, and curls wrapped tight around his hand, her breast bounced as she rolled her hips into him. His other hand slid over her hip, gripping harder with every thrust into her. I could almost hear the low groan from him, and it caused me to shiver with thoughts of other times I've heard that sexy groan. I was so in my own little world that I barely heard Michael say, "Turn around." I sheepishly mouthed a sorry, but the small smile on his face told me he wasn't too upset. Face them, no sense in only one of us watching them." A loud male moan came from the other side of the room as the redhead slowly slid a large dildo into his prepped hole. The black straps surrounding her legs and hips contrasted with the tight white leather. Her red lips left a stained mark in the center of his back as she began her slow, torturous thrusts. Strong fists grabbed onto the silver chains connected from his wrists to the black iron bed frame, clanging with each pull upon the dildo's hard impact against his prostate. "Shit you feel good," I said, moaning with each inch down his cock. "Don't hold back either, I don't mind it rough." Michael's hands gripped my hips, lips dragged over my shoulder, and my eyes closed when I felt the sting of his teeth biting into the crook of my shoulder. "I've heard," Michael said, feeling him grin against my skin as he ran his tongue along the bite. Other members wandered all around the four of us; some stopping to watch for a bit, but most of them just gazed on as they passed around to the various performances. His skin glistened from the sultry heat permeating the room. Fingers slid slow up her side and kneaded her breast, his thumb brushing over her taut nipple. Worn pink lips were opened wide as breathy moans flowed from them. With everything going on around me, I couldn't take my eyes off of them; hips thrusted faster into every roll of her bucking hips. "They look hot together," I said, my pace increasing when I felt one of his hands moved between my spread legs. "They are, though, I wouldn't mind seeing you and her together again." I let out a small laugh that quickly changed to a moan when his fingers circled over my clit. "Did we put on a good show for you two?" "That you did," Michael said, groaning into my neck and sucking just underneath my ear. "I'm curious to see you and him together." It was now his turn to laugh, except his felt a little loaded. We both fell into a steady fuck; my mind picturing the two of them together, wondering what sort of past the two of them had. Our eyes darted between watching them and the large male trying to arch his back as far as he could while still being chained to the bed. Animalistic groans accompanied by low whimpers, sharp squeaking and a rhythmic metallic tone were now heard all around the room. The woman had one hand gripped tight against his hip, while the other was switching between gentle strokes over his ass and painting his back a deep red with her gold-foiled pointed nails. "I want him to tell you. I wouldn't feel right telling you his side. But, I will say college was...an interesting time for all of us." I nodded my head, barely registering what he mumbled against my ear. My eyes continued to focus on the two of them as they both neared their orgasms. My moans grew louder from the combination of them, Michael's cock inside me and his fingers dancing over my clit nearly pushed me over the edge. I willed myself to continue watching the intimately public scene, but they kept slipping shut every single time his cock drove deeper inside me. "Keep watching them, don't close your eyes. They're almost there." We watched as both of them came, heads thrown back in pulsating pleasure. My brain officially fried with watching his face as he completely came undone. Swollen lips parted, groaning and heavy panting as her hands ran all along the ridges of his abdomen. His head slightly turned, his dark eyes finding mine and I couldn't hold it anymore. My orgasm rushed through me, body convulsing as I desperately tried to keep my eyes on him. I kept on rocking my hips and Michael came shortly after; strained groans lightly tickled my neck. He grinned when he saw me grab Michael's hand and slowly suck on the fingers he used to play with me. I heard Michael's chuckle before he said, "When you speak to him again, tell him he has a keeper." ~~~~~~~~~~ Stark white with accents of aqua blue, the room was a complete polar opposite to the comforting warmth of the last room. Even though the last room was open, it still had more intimate seating areas and quieter alcoves away from the main area. This room, however, was completely open; save for ten thick and glossy white columns lining the sunken middle of the room. Furniture of various sizes, carved from what looked to be large blocks of clear and aqua glass, were on display as if they were pieces of art instead of seating for the packed crowd. A large bar area in the same clear and aqua block of glass lined the back wall. Members chatted away while they all waited for their drinks to be served by the efficient bar staff. Intermittent flashes of white and aqua came up from the frosted glass floor around dancers perched on large glass cubes. Their naked bodies were adorned with clear heels as they twirled gracefully around glass poles filled with a flowing aqua liquid. It felt as if we walked through the door and were transported to another world. The only thing that remotely reminded me of where we were was the unique Rush scent being pumped throughout the room, driving me insane with each teasing caress of his hand over the small of my back. After we discussed that we would meet up with them after she gave Michael a tour around, we continued into the futuristic room and went to order something from the bar. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him as we both watched the raised main stage of a woman hung face up and horizontally by intricately tied white ropes all around her body. Thin streaks of neon green highlights contrasted nicely through her ink black hair; the long strands swinging back and forth with each violent slap of the flogger against her dripping and swollen red pussy. Her strangled cries of pleasure barely rang over the pulsating beat, blinded only by the tight black scarf covering her eyes to the intent group seated around the stage. His hand wrapped tight around my slightly moving hips, guiding rather than stopping my teasing ministrations. "And you call me a tease," He said into my ear when I laid my head back against his shoulder. "Can't help it, I missed you." "You did?" he kissed my temple; a shiver running through my body when he moved to finger the tie around my waist. "Lots." His moan lingered in my ear as I turned around in his arms; a slow and gentle kiss placed on his lips. "Missed you too. Are you having fun?" "Yeah, but I'm glad to be back with you." "Are you alright?" My eyebrows furrowed. "Why wouldn't I be?" "We've done a bit before, but this is your first time like this." "You prepared me for it, you comforted me after. What more could I ask for? Don't worry, I'm doing fine. I was a little shook afterwards, but it's gone now." As I looked up at him, my mind drifted into his hungry kiss. 'the only person I could pretty much see spending the rest of my life with...'. Was my sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on me? Time seemed to pass so slowly without it. Phones were strictly prohibited, neither one of us had a watch on, and from the looks of it there were no clocks displayed anywhere in Rush. When we first entered, it was a refreshing feeling to disconnect from the outside world and enjoy the sinful night ahead. But now, the low rhythmic beat from the sound system felt as if it was blaring in my head. It felt stifling and a little unnerving to be in the midst of this ever growing crowd, and I felt my body tense the more I kept thinking of it. His lips left mine and my heart swelled; barely hearing the soft words uttered against my ear. No words were needed between us after that. No matter who we were with, no matter who was around us, it always felt like we were in our own little world; enjoying each other and basking in the love and trust we had for each other. He moved his hand to my cheek and looked down at me with slight concern in his eyes. "Trust me, I'm fine." "Excuse me?" We both looked and saw the next bartender ready for us. "Are you ready to order?" "Sorry, yes thank you." Unlike the other rooms, the bar in this room only displayed a six drink menu typed out in beautiful hexagonal font, against a glossy black cardstock, and surrounded in a frame of clear and aqua glass. Each ridiculously neon drink was mixed to each members specific need, poured into crystal glasses, and topped with different things depending on the drink. Once we got our drinks, we took a seat at one of the long sofas along the wall. Curled up against him, we continued watching the performance, hands comfortably locked together. With each second that passed by, my body physically ached for him to be inside me. Even the sweet but slightly bitter neon pink drink couldn't cool me down and quench the thirst I was suffering from. Only one thing was on my mind at the moment, and no amount of distraction was going to alleviate the throbbing throughout my body. I sat my drink down the table in front of me and straddled his lap, giggling with the surprise look on his face. Taking his drink, I set it on the table next to him and kissed him hard. Groans muffled behind my kiss turned to low growls as my hips rolled into the growing bulge beneath his black pants. Desperate hands were now kneading my ass, and a lone 'fuck' was all I heard when I pulled back, biting his bottom lip before sliding off his lap and onto my knees. "I want that blowjob now," I said, smiling as my teasing fingers dragged down the obvious bulge. He spread his legs wider and his fingers slipped through my hair, watching my shaking hands slip the black leather belt off. I undid his pants, sliding my hand inside and pulled out his hard cock; my hungry eyes staring into his half closed ones. "Fuck, I'm not stopping you." Drinks forgotten and members ignored, I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock, swirling my tongue around the head; precum already coating my swollen lips. One last swipe over his head and I slid my lips down his cock, feeling the long groan reverberate through my body and the pain of his hand gripping my hair. My hand grabbed the base of his cock, slowly stroking while my other hand played with his balls; the weight of them made my mental tongue water. Whatever words came from him were lost to the next rhythmic beat and the next participant's strangled moans and screams. I could've cared less of what or who was around us; passersby, gawkers, avid watchers. My mouth was filled with his cock, hair pulled tight into his fist, and my pussy throbbed with the prospect of his cock buried deep inside me. Head bobbing to the rhythm, I felt his other hand move to play with my breast, and a muffled yelp came from me when his fingers pinched my hard nipple. All of a sudden, I was violently pulled from his cock and he kissed me, both of us moaning at our mingling tastes. He pulled me into his lap and I ran the head of his cock over my wet lips, moaning into his neck as I slowly slid down. I unbuttoned his shirt and traced my nails down his chest and stomach, sighing when he untied my robe and sucked lightly on a hard nipple. His rough tongue slowly circled the tip before sucking again, then repeating the process to the other one, lavishing them until a sharp shiver raced through my body. "I need you," I said, crying out when his fingers moved to circle over my hard clit. "You have me, sweetheart." He didn't know how much those words meant to me. Once I was ready, I moved my hips up and down, bouncing into his upwards thrusts. His hands grabbed my hips and pumped into me, drifting down to grab my ass. I went to kiss him and almost bit his tongue at the loud smack vibrating through me. "Oh fuck yes, sweetheart. You feel so good wrapped around me." "Again," I begged, my hips moving faster. "Please." Equal smacks on both cheeks had my head falling backwards, blindly seeking out that pleasure I was looking for. He grabbed my head and pulled me back into him, slowly kissing me; a muffled growl falling between our lips. "That's it, sweetheart. Right there, you're so fucking tight." My hands dragged up and down his chest, rolling my hips faster with every upwards thrust. He moved a hand up and teased over my nipple before moving up to caress his fingertips over the column of my neck. Pleasure shot through my body at what I hoped he was planning to do. "Yes, please. Do it." I almost came when his hand squeezed tight around my throat, hips thrusting at that perfect angle. My body trembled under his darken gaze, skin on fire from his touch, but my heart completely melted for him. A random guy I met at a house party has completely and thoroughly ruined me for everyone...and I couldn't have been any happier. A few more thrusts and we both found our release; bruised lips crashing together, shivering bodies connected as gasping breaths and heated words flew freely from our lips. "Bite me," I moaned. His teeth teased over my shoulder, softly biting down at the same time he thrusted upwards, causing my eyes to roll back into my head and my body to shiver. A low, breathy moan came from my mouth when his hand played with my clit, prolonging the orgasm rippling through my body. "I know..." I said, struggling to get my words out. "I know this is gonna sound really out of place right now, but when we're back home and settled, let's discuss moving in...together." His dark eyes widened, shining due to the fluorescent aqua recessed lights above us. "It doesn't have to be right now or even in the coming weeks, but I want to at least have a discussion about it. Cheesy and cliche, but I want to wake up with you next to me and have meals together. I want to come home knowing you'll be there, not on the other end of the phone or a webcam. I..." "It's not at all. Let's discuss it over dinner...well...today I guess," he said, chuckling at the thing I was nervous about moments before. "Alright," I said in a giggle, biting my lip. "You know that thing you whispered to me before? Words can't express how much I do for you." My heart pounded when his smile slowly appeared. I leaned in and kissed him again, using the frenzied chaos of a group of exuberant girls laughing as they walked by to hide the tears that threatened to spill over. If my mind was playing tricks on me, then it wasn't doing a very good job of it. ~~~~~~~~~ I groaned when my eyes opened to the peeks of sun through the curtains, stretching out my body out along the bed. Carefully moving so as to not wake up the other three, I climbed out of the large bed and quickly went out into the common area to grab the red leather bound book sitting next to the phone. The cool air had me shivering as I walked back into the room and curled under the covers, leisurely flipping through the well made book. An extensive menu with food and drinks from all over the world, a variety of sexual goodies that could rival any shop or site, and services for pretty much anything you could think of were shown throughout the beautifully photographed pages. Startled, I felt her chin lay against my bare shoulder. "What are you doing?" She asked, her fingers tracing where the sheet had fallen and met my hip bone. "Was in the mood for something," I said, scanning over a particular page of various dildos; meticulously organized by type, material, size and color. Seriously, someone needed a raise for this. "Not really sure what though." "Come here. I want to show you something." She grabbed my wrist just as I set the book on the side table and we quietly walked out into the long hallway, barely having time to throw on the completely open white silk robe. Hair wild from a night of amazing sex and lips a mix of both our lipsticks, we'd looked completely crazy in any other situation. But for some reason, here at Rush, it seemed to be a normal occurrence as we passed by other people. From singles to large groups of people, everyone was wearing the same robes and nothing else as they walked to and from their private rooms. After a short while of searching, we came to a quiet hallway and stood in front of a large silver framed black and white photo. The picture contained a woman who was completely naked with an ivy plant concealing her face, in the throes of an amazing self-induced orgasm. Her quivering body was arched on an oversized oriental rug; perfect breast pushed up, teased nipples hard, and fingers glistening under most likely numerous studio lights. She tapped her fingernails on the glass protecting the photo and looked at me with a smug smile on her face. "That's you?" I questioned, my eyes widened to what felt like saucers. She nodded. "It was hours after my first scene. Afterwards, we went back up to our room, ordered a ridiculous amount of alcohol and spent the rest of the night getting completely high and wasted, fucking in pretty much every room of our suite. The perks of being a celebrity; the best alcohol and drugs money can buy. Around six in the morning and coming down from my high, I had this realization I desperately wanted my picture up on one of their walls." I listened in awe as she recounted her story and of the photographer, who has been a professional photographer for well over thirty years. "But of course, being the stubborn brat I am, I had a different idea. I told him I didn't care about my face being seen, but he refused to take the photo any other way; most likely for legal reasons, but I would like to think it was just him looking out for me. After agreeing on what I'd be doing and signed a bunch of forms, I was finally spread out naked on the rug with one of the ivy plants covering my face, masturbating while the photographer got his camera ready for when I was ready to cum." I stood there trying my hardest not to act too surprised as she tried in vain to cover her laughter and continue on. "My ass hurt so bad from being spanked earlier that night. My moans echoed so loud in the room, and I remember hearing all the wet noises. I didn't care, I was getting off on how many people would see the photo and think about it as they got off themselves or fucked someone else. How narcissistic, right?" Taking a deep breath to clear my mind and to process everything she was saying, I said, "Maybe not this extreme. But, I think most people have had those thoughts at least once in their lives, whether they would like to admit it or not." She laughed at my decent attempt to make her feel like less of a "stereotypical, self-centered model". "The plant was to conceal my face, but it was low enough to help tease my skin and nipples," she sighed, somewhat drifting off as her fingers dragged over her neck and collarbone. "It felt so good on my sensitive skin." My mouth wouldn't shut as I heard a group of people walk down the hall, talking about how beautiful it was outside. "Looking back, I feel bad for the guy. He was only doing was his job, and there was me, high out of my mind and playing with myself on the floor of his studio. But...I finally came and the photo also came out perfect. I got dressed and washed up, thanked him for the opportunity, and left the studio. After a few hours of sleep and a clear mind, we all went to leave the club and I was stopped by both the manager and photographer. They said they would be happy to discard the photo and all forms since I wasn't in the right mindset at the time, but I happily shook my head and told them to go ahead and use the photo." "But you didn't have to. They would've..." "I know. But Rush is the only place I've ever felt free. Free to be myself, to be who I want to be. I never have to conform to standards or ideals here. I'm just me and this picture reminds me of that. It doesn't matter if my fans, my management team, or even the outside world do not understand. They don't have to. As long as I'm happy, that's all that matters." She looked at the photo and smiled. "Don't you think?" I smiled and nodded my head in agreement, knowing this time, her smile was genuinely out of happiness. "Right." ~~~~~~~~~~ The sun shined bright as we all passed through the iron door, cars perfectly parked in front by the valet. We all said our goodbyes, exchanging numbers and promising to get in touch, then watched as her and Michael pulled away. As he opened the door and helped me inside; kissing me as he closed the car door, I was even more confident now than ever that we were stronger than we've ever been before, even with everything that happened behind those closed iron doors. I knew I wasn't ready to take that huge plunge just yet, but when I did, I knew I could only trust him to take it with me.

(Hiccup) “I said I’m fine!” Hiccup gestured to himself, then jumped on the spot. The soft grass in the glade outside their cave was still slick from the fallen rain under his boots, but a morning sun was finally gracing their nameless island. “See?” Toothless did not look convinced. He eyed him suspiciously, pacing around him like a predator does its prey. He produced tiny concerned growls, then louder, angrier ones, puffing small clouds of smoke from his nostrils. “Why are you pouting?” Hiccup complained. “I told you I’d be fine! The fever is gone like I promised. Look!” He spun around in a spectacle of healthy Viking-ness. Toothless did not seem amused by the performance. Had he really been so worried? In the past, Hiccup had suffered plenty of fevers. His mother had always taken care of him when he’d been very little, and, after her death, whenever those days came, it was Gobber or Helga who would occasionally come to check on him at Stoick’s behest. His father, being the chief of the village, did not have the time to care for him when he became ill. Besides, Stoick had never seemed to enjoy spending time at home. Hiccup had hence gotten used to looking after himself during fevers or colds, for they had been quite common occurrences, and, since concern for someone’s affliction was rarely dispensed among real Vikings (for, like pity, it was sure to offend), Hiccup had never demanded or expected much attention during those times. He had certainly not expected the dragon to fret much over it. Besides, I told him not to worry about me. He thought, trying to fend off an uncomfortable feeling; it was almost like guilt, but why would he feel guilty? “Alright, alright, but I’m really fine now. Here, look…” In a playful, yet awkward attempt to lighten the mood, Hiccup punched the dragon’s jaw to show off his recovered strength. “Aha! Take that Snotlout!” He said, pretending to fight the imaginary opponent, or, more accurately, pretending to pretend to fight, since he had no actual experience with hand-to-hand combat, besides being occasionally shoved around. Toothless barely budged behind his weak jabs. It did not look like the dragon was enjoying his antics in the least. The playful activity was put to an abrupt end when Toothless, teeth fully unsheathed, let out an ear-shattering roar. Hiccup fell on his back, covering his ears with his hands and instinctively raising his elbows in defense. He had not expected that reaction, and, for a terrifying moment, he thought his friend had transformed into the kind of beast that all Vikings believed dragons to be. “I’m sorry,” Hiccup blurted out hastily, cowering on the ground. For the first time since the day they had first met, Hiccup felt small before the dragon’s angry form, defenseless. I probably deserved that, Hiccup thought, finally recognizing the source of that unpleasant feeling of guilt. Toothless could not have known about his rather frequent fevers, or how dangerous they were. The crippled dragon had most likely been fearing for his own life too, unable to fly without a rider. I definitely deserved that. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” Hiccup lowered his hands warily. “I just get sick sometimes. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He did not move from his spot on the ground, still unsure whether his words had actually reached his friend, or whether the dragon before him had become as feral as a pack of wild, angry boars.  “Bud?” He murmured, his legs shaky with a mixture of fear and lack of strength, which he hadn’t fully regained yet. Toothless’ eyes softened after a few blinks. He then voiced a soft, apologetic croon, which Hiccup had been breathlessly waiting for. The dragon approached him as he lay on the soft grass, and finally nuzzled his chest. Hiccup felt relief spread across his limbs at the warm touch. Why he had been so reluctant to apologize in the first place, however, he could not recall. “I didn’t think you cared so much, you know?” He said, caressing the dragon’s head. “I mean… you stood by my side for two days, you brought me food, you kept cooling my head... Thank you, bud.” Toothless purred and pressed his muzzle into Hiccup’s chest again. Then, in a fit of glee, the dragon began licking him. First, he lapped his chin, then his entire face. Hiccup could only try to fight his way out of the dragon’s overly-affectionate grasp. “Toothless! S-stop! Aaah!” Hiccup wailed uselessly, though he couldn’t help laughing too as the dragon’s large tongue coated him with thick layers of drool. “No- Stop- Please, Tooth-!” He suddenly coughed, which made Toothless interrupt his display of affection, allowing Hiccup to stand up. “Eeew! It’s in my mouth!” Hiccup cried and coughed again, trying to spit out all the dragon saliva that he had managed not to swallow by mistake. He then produced a revolted grunt, and scraped off the excess slime from his face with his hands, which he wiped on dragon’s own snout, catching Toothless by surprise. “There. Serves you right.” He said smugly, failing to hide the smirk on his lips. Toothless frowned, but seemed otherwise unfazed by having his own muzzle covered with spit. With a sigh, Hiccup sat again on the grass, trying to recover from the exhaustion of fighting his much larger friend. He was going to need a few more days before he could consider himself strong enough to leave this island. As he sat, contentedly observing some small clouds above being herded by the warm southern winds, and for once not thinking about Berk, Hiccup caught a whiff of what he could only describe as a rather unpleasant, though familiar smell. “Oh, man! I stink like Gobber after a full day at the forge,” He exclaimed, sniffing under his own armpits, realizing he had not washed for… how long? During his last couple of weeks on Berk, the troubling thoughts of abandoning the island had made him forget and skip the customary activity of Laugardagr, the weekly Day of Washing. This meant he had not washed properly for no less than fourteen days, perhaps even more. “Toothless, I seriously need a bath, bud. I reek like a yak!”  Despite the saying that outcasts were supposed to never bathe, Hiccup was not willing to abide by such rule. He did not want to stink, even as an outcast. Toothless approached him with an eager, gummy smile, his forked tongue readily lolling out. “No, no, no…! Enough dragon spit! I mean it. Stay. Put. There.” Hiccup commanded in his most authoritative tone, pointing a single prohibitive finger towards his friend, and trying his best not to smile as he did so. “Humans wash with fresh water, not spit.” He explained. Toothless retracted his tongue with an unhappy warble. Then, sniffing the air, the dragon began to look around with a thoughtful frown. “What is it?” Hiccup asked, then groaned: “Oh, please don’t tell me there’s someone else on this island!” He was too tired to pull off another hurried escape like the one on Meathead island. The dragon shook his head, but he gestured with his shoulders for Hiccup to get on him. “Want to fly? Now? But I just removed your fin, I thought it was starting to chafe.” Toothless shook his head again. “I don’t get it,” Hiccup said, grimacing. A low warbling noise and a soft bark were the only responses he received. “You know, sometimes I really wish you could speak, bud. It would make everything so much easier.” The dragon rolled his eyes. He then approached a lingering puddle of muddy rainwater, and splashed his paws in it, casting a meaningful look towards Hiccup. He did it again and again until Hiccup thought he understood. “Oh, you mean water! You think there’s a river or something?” Toothless nodded twice. Hiccup gladly accepted the suggestion, and, after grabbing some of his effects, he allowed his friend to carry him on his shoulders. Toothless wasn’t wearing his saddle or tailfin, so he just trotted into the unburnt patches of forest, towards what Hiccup believed was the sea’s direction. Hiccup could not recall the island’s layout, as they had landed during the night, in the company of an early summer storm. They soon emerged from the treeline to the sight of a small valley, which descended gradually towards the sea-shore. It was not just the usual valley, though. Where Hiccup expected to see grass or moss or mud, the strange patch of land was dressed all in waves of white. Hiccup slid off the dragon’s back, eyes wide, then leaned to feel the surprisingly solid floor. At first glance, it looked almost like snow, but it was actually a very light-grey kind of rock, smooth and dusty to the touch, like pumice stone or chalk, only denser, harder. The whole valley was uneven, molded by rain and wind to form gentle hills and bumps, pits and craters, some small as basins, others big as the lake in the cove near Raven Point. They were all made from this kind of pale rock, connected smoothly like dunes of sand on a beach, but rigid, and apparently impermeable too, for rainwater appeared to have filled all the smooth craters to the brim, creating dozens of small interconnected lakes. As Hiccup looked around, he noticed a very narrow stream emerging from the forest to their far left, pouring even more water into those lakes, which in turn spilled over into the lower ones, and so on, until they reached the sea. “Whoa… Look at this place,” Hiccup murmured to himself. “Do you think it’s because of the volcano? Is this like… white lava?” Toothless shrugged absently. “Aren’t you supposed to know about volcanoes? In the Book of Dragons, Bork says that dragons like to stay near live volcanoes. Don’t they?” After a small pensive silence, the Night Fury gave another noncommittal shrug. “You don’t know? How could you not know? Aren’t you at all like the other dragons?” Toothless scowled and huffed, offended. He then straightened his pose to a more dignified one, his expression smug, head held high, eyelids lowered lazily. In that stance, the dragon looked like an elegant statue carved in black stone. No matter what anyone could say, Night Furies were truly beautiful creatures, and this one clearly knew it. “Yeah, of course not,” Hiccup said with a scornful look. “You are the bestest of the best. The greatest dragon that ever was or will be.”  Toothless ignored the heavy sarcasm behind those words, nodding solemnly, accepting even that derisive form of flattery. Hiccup could not tell whether Toothless was being ironic himself, but he already knew that the Night Fury before him was by no means a humble one. At least on the outside, for as Hiccup would sometimes notice, the dragon’s eyes seemed to hide a rather different story. Hiccup approached one of the largest pools, and probed the water with his fingers. The pumice-like floor sloped gradually to a substantial depth, but Hiccup could still see the clear bottom at the center of the pool, filtered through pale-blue colors, rippling as his hand disturbed the surface. The water wasn’t freezing, but it was still quite cold to the touch. Hiccup laid down his clean clothes. He began undressing, before remembering that Toothless was still there. He turned around.  “Hey, bud, listen, can you… could you…” He trailed off. How was he going to explain? He didn’t even know whether he should. After all, wasn’t Toothless only a dragon? He was that, of course, yet Hiccup had enough proof that Night Furies, and perhaps many more dragons, were just as intelligent, and just as sentient as humans. So, try as he might, Hiccup felt he could not subdue his pathological shyness, even before his best and only friend. He sometimes cursed himself for that stupid affliction, but he had yet to learn to fight it, not to mention overcome it. Besides, Hiccup had never been forced to. He had never had to wash in Berk’s common bathhouse before, and he had always dreaded the idea, partly because he didn’t want anyone to have definitive proof that, behind those oversized clothes and voluminous fur coat, he was undoubtedly the scrawniest, most pitiful creature in the Barbaric Archipelago. Much to Hiccup’s relief, the chief’s house was furnished with a rather luxurious round wooden bathtub, as well as a private outhouse. Behind a large drape, at the back of his noble abode, Hiccup had gotten used to an uncommon amount of privacy for Viking standards. In fact, he could almost consider that tub as his very own, since his father preferred going to the bathhouse, for he wouldn’t have to waste time with heating the water, and he could instead use the occasion to further discuss matters of great import with the other men and women of the village. (Stoick the Vast never stopped working, even on Laugardagr.) Still, the man had tried to bring Hiccup along a few times, but Hiccup had always come up with some excuse not to go. This way, Hiccup had also been able to afford to warm the water as he pleased, for he had the time and freedom to heat as many rocks over the hearth as he wanted, to then drop into the tub. He did not even need to get the water himself. On every day of Laugardagr, the tub was filled anew from the nearby well by the occasional boys, who had the honour to perform small daily tasks for the chief, like delivering messages, or bringing whatever the chief required. There were no slaves on Berk, but the chief did have plenty of hands at his disposal. At the back of his mind, not without a pang of melancholy, Hiccup wondered if he would ever be able to enjoy that kind of luxury again, or if he was destined to wash in cold ponds and rivers for the rest of his life. The possibility of heating the water with scalding rocks was definitely not an option now, and, come winter, even the ponds would be too cold for washing. “Can you go back to our camp while I wash myself?” Hiccup finally asked, scratching the back of his neck. Toothless tilted his head, perplexed. “Please? I’ll come back when I’m done. I promise. I know the way.” The dragon’s expression changed. He crooned questioningly, edging closer, instead of going away as he’d been asked. “No… I- I’d really rather wash alone. I’ll be fine by myself. Please?” Toothless was clearly unhappy with the prospect of leaving him on his own, and he probably couldn’t begin to understand the ridiculous reasons behind such an unusual request, but he still slid back into the forest, producing petulant little whimpers. While the apprehensive dragon had always had the tact and consideration not to follow Hiccup whenever he had to relieve himself (something Hiccup was incredibly grateful for), undressing and bathing in water were not activities with which the Night Fury was familiar, so it was likely that Toothless was also curious. Hiccup felt bad for the dragon, but he was going to find a way to make it up to him later. “I won’t be long!” He shouted as his friend left. Once he was sure he was alone, Hiccup stripped completely, and trod with hesitant steps into the water, resisting the urge to shiver. When he was waist-deep into the lake, he decided to plunge with the rest of his body, so as not to extend his suffering. He yelped from the cold before diving in completely, holding what air was left inside his lungs. With his hands, he vigorously scrubbed his hair underwater, hoping to wash away most of the dirt and grime. Once out of breath, Hiccup emerged. He had almost gotten used to the chill, and he was beginning to enjoy his bath, when, as he reopened his eyes, he found himself face to face with a black, reptilian muzzle. A shriek escaped his mouth. He launched himself backwards, into slightly deeper waters, trying to hide what he could with both hands. “Toothless! What-?! Go away!” Hiccup shouted, praying the water provided at least his lower half with enough cover. He quickly realized his cold-induced yelp had reached the Night Fury’s sensitive ears, and the dragon had rushed back, thinking it a call for help. “I’m fine. Go away.” Toothless warbled, scanning Hiccup’s naked figure with obvious concern. “Oh come on.” Hiccup lifted only one arm to wave his friend away as he yelled: “Shoo! Shoo!” When Toothless felt reassured about his rider’s health, he slouched his way back into the forest, without even trying to hide the expression of inexplicable rejection from his face. Worrying about the amount of pampering this was going to cost him, Hiccup resumed his activity, using a piece of rough cloth to rub his skin with some of the soap he had incidentally found in his belongings. Inside a hidden pocket within Gobber’s leather mustache-care kit, Hiccup had discovered a few shards of strong soap, of the kind Vikings used both to clean, but also to lighten their hair, for that soap, if used often enough, had a valuable bleaching effect. It was by no means a secret that Gobber, like many other villagers, enjoyed his mustache braids brightly blonde. As Hiccup scrubbed himself, he could not avoid noticing a few, timid, yet encouraging changes; truth was, Hiccup would regularly examine his body during Laugardagr, praying for those very changes. He felt an unnecessary amount of surprise, and perhaps pride, when he thought he could see a few new, incredibly faint, but still somewhat noticeable strands of pale-auburn armpit hair. Perhaps he could have one day become a Hairy Hooligan worthy of the name, he thought, if only he had managed to stay on Berk a little longer. A few more hairs here and there, however, were no great consolation before his much too evident gauntness. In fact, he looked thinner and bonier than ever. Is this why Toothless keeps barfing freshly caught fish on me as often as he can? He also wanted me to eat three whole rabbits the other day; he knows I can’t eat that much. Hiccup sighed. He needed to take better care of himself. If Toothless’ behavior that morning had taught Hiccup anything, it was that he could no longer afford to neglect his own health. The dragon needed him to be strong. Saving the Night Fury from Berk’s bloodthirsty villagers had not put an end to Hiccup’s commitment towards his friend. In fact, it had only given this responsibility an even more central place in his life. He lived for Toothless’ sake now, a notion that he found to be a much nobler source of pride than any, though pleasing, still timid achievement in his slow physical growth. Hiccup finished bathing, and dried his shivering limbs quickly with another piece of cloth. He then decided to cut his messy hair with Gobber’s scissors. He cut it slightly shorter than usual, so it would be more comfortable to fly, without hair getting in his eyes. Yet, Hiccup felt there was also another reason behind that decision, the heart of which eluded him. He still went through with the slightly different look, almost on a whim. Once he was done, and not one moment later, Hiccup caught a faint ruffling noise coming from behind the treeline. He sighed. At least he was wearing his clean smallclothes. Asking for further privacy would have likely been pointless now that he and the dragon were living together. “Come out, Toothless. I know you are there.” The Night Fury’s black head sprung from behind a bush, shooting small leaves in every direction. Then, the dragon happily trotted to where Hiccup was sitting, gathering his belongings. Toothless began sniffling Hiccup curiously, from his wet hair to his bare toes. “Yeah, I smell better now, don’t I- ah! Tickles!” Hiccup giggled, feeling the dragon’s warm breath on his skin. Toothless produced an unexpected growl at some unwelcome sight. “What? Oh... that.” Hiccup found the scar that trailed his left side, just below the lowest rib bone. It was no more than the length of a finger, but it had been deep. “That’s from… when… I fell. In the stream,” he half-lied. He had actually been thrown by Snotlout and Tuffnut on the day of his tenth birthday. The two boys had said it was meant to celebrate him, and they had added that they didn’t know the water would be so shallow. They had most likely been honest about the last part, and perhaps even the first, much to Hiccup’s bafflement. He could never understand what the other boys were actually thinking, and Hiccup was still somehow convinced that, for that single day, the two boys had truly decided to regard him as one of their own. It still hadn’t made the sharp rock in his side any less painful, nor the fact that the event had gone relatively unnoticed within the village any easier to swallow. Stoick had been furious of course, but with whom, Hiccup was not sure. Hidden underneath a facade of proper worry, Hiccup could often perceive Stoick’s silent disapproval. Part of Hiccup had always suspected his father to resent him whenever he got hurt, even when it wasn’t his fault, or perhaps especially on those occasions. A man could get hurt by himself, but when another man was the offender, retaliation was a Viking’s prerogative and obligation, possibly of the kind involving fists. At least, that’s what Stoick seemed to want his son to learn: to be more like a Viking. Hiccup had tried, of course, but his fists had never yielded the desired effect. And yet, as a contradiction to that very lesson, Stoick had preferred not to make a fuss about the accident that day. Maybe he had preferred to avoid upsetting his rather uncertain relationship with Snotlout’s father, Spitelout. Despite his strength and might, and with only few exceptions, diplomacy was always a priority in Stoick’s mind, which was one of the reasons Berk had almost entirely forgotten what a blood-feud was. This was actually one of the things Hiccup admired about his father, so he hadn’t complained, but he had yet to understand why he was expected to act more like a Viking himself, when ‘un-Vikingness’ was clearly one of his father’s most effective tools as a chief. Hiccup was sure he was alone in seeing that contradiction. So Hiccup felt no bitterness at the two boys’ lack of punishment. He still suspected that, somewhere deep inside, both Snotlout and Tuffnut had actually felt some remorse for hurting him so gravely, although, like proper Vikings, they had never shown even a glimpse of it. They had still come to visit him afterwards, as he was recovering in his bed after being sewn closed by Gothi, and Snotlout had even asked whether he was going to need to take over as chief one day, because, as the burly boy had put it: ‘it would be a bit of a hassle’. He’d said it most likely in jest, Hiccup was sure, but that was still the closest thing to an apology he had ever gotten from his second cousin. Funny how the worst scar I have is from their attempt to be friendly. Maybe that’s what being friendly means to real Vikings, Hiccup thought, as he often would, and once again found that notion tough to accept. Of course, not a few weeks after the accident, his relationship with both boys had reverted to what it had always been. He was the ‘village hiccup’, after all. Hiccup had still decided to forgive them, wanting to believe that, for once, their intent had been a well-meaning one. It may not have mattered now that he was an outcast, but Hiccup didn’t want Toothless to feel otherwise about them, at least in regards to that scar. “Don’t worry about it.” He said, before getting fully dressed, and heading back to the cave with Toothless, all the while thinking about their next destination. A safe place for him and Toothless. A place to call their own. Their departure was going to wait a while, however. For now, Hiccup had to recover completely. Hence, he decided to spend that afternoon, and the next couple of afternoons too, snugly resting by his best friend’s side, occasionally taking to the skies, and thoroughly enjoying the precious sun of the first balmy days of May. They broke their fast with fresh salmon, which Toothless had graciously caught (without swallowing it, as instructed), and which Hiccup was now cooking over a small fire. The dragon had already eaten his fill, and was now observing Hiccup’s activity with interest, his head laying on his crossed paws. “You know, I’m going to have to learn how to hunt for myself at some point,” Hiccup said, before rotating the skewered slice of fish he was holding. “I can’t keep making you always provide for me.”  Toothless groaned in protest. He sounded offended. “Why not? I’m really glad for your help, but I shouldn’t always rely on you for everything, at least not for food. You just need me to fly, but I’m using you for almost everything else. Food, travel, protection… even warmth. It’s not fair to you.” Hiccup was determined to learn, sooner or later, how to take care of himself, partly for the dragon’s sake, but mostly because, as Astrid had painfully pointed out, he had actually been coddled all his life, at least in regards to the basics of survival. Toothless was still unconvinced. He produced a series of high to low-pitched warbling noises, which Hiccup was slowly beginning to decipher as some form of disagreement. Hiccup had spent enough time with the dragon to be able to successfully discern (often aided by his friend’s vivid facial expressions) most of the sounds for affirmation and denial, direction, calls for attention or alarm, and more. However, he sometimes could not believe that this was all there was to dragon communication, at least as far as Night Furies were concerned. After all, Toothless had clearly learnt to understand him word for word, so the potential for comprehension of complex languages was obviously there. “At least, I need to learn how to hunt. I won’t change my mind about this,” Hiccup stated in his best tone of confidence, “even though I don’t think I completely understood what you just said,” he added. “Actually… about that. Remember when you woke me up the other day... during my fever?” Toothless raised his head. “Well, my fever was so high, that I actually thought I could hear you talk!” Hiccup chuckled. The dragon raised his head further. “It was kind of weird; must have been quite a high fever I had. It’s been a while since I had any visions during fevers. When I was little, I used to get quite a lot of those, you know? I would see weird things happen. This time I could almost hear a voice, asking me something, and I remember thinking it was you!” Hiccup smiled at the thought. “Then, I think I also saw…” his smile faded “...someone else.” He paused, and stared at the palm of his free hand with hopeless contemplation. “Still, wouldn’t that be something... if you could talk.”  Hiccup’s mind drifted off to recall more of that night’s hallucinations, and, as if on cue, his head started to ache again, though this time there was no good reason for it. He tried to ignore the ache, and looked back at Toothless, who was now gaping disturbingly at him, his eyes wide, and the narrow reptilian pupils sharp as knives. “Something wrong?” Hiccup grimaced, unsettled by the intense glare. “Tooth’? You are scaring me. Are you alright?”  Slowly, a faint, yet uncomfortable noise began buzzing all around him. Hiccup turned to look for the source of the disturbance. The strange sound stopped immediately, and the headache ebbed away too, as if it had never been there. Hiccup looked back at his friend, who had settled his chin on his paws again, and was now gazing at their fire with a dissatisfied air. “What was that?” Toothless looked at him sideways, then back to the fire, shrugging casually. Am I still imagining things? Hiccup wondered, when the smell of burnt fish filled his nostrils. “Thor’s flaming breeches!” Hiccup yelped, yanking away his slice of salmon from the fire. He studied the result. “Well... At least it’s not all burned. We’ll just say it’s well done,” he said, then began to take bites of his slightly charred fish right from the skewer. Fortunately, his meal was not entirely ruined. Yet, while he was able to satisfy his stomach, Hiccup still felt like something was missing from his palate. “Man... It’s barely been a week, and I already miss bread.” Hiccup confessed, his mouth watering again at the memory of Helga’s warm loaves. He felt surprise at the fondness with which he recalled the huge woman, since, back on Berk, Hiccup had never particularly enjoyed her. Though kind in her actions, Helga had always been rough and unpleasant in her ways. Even her voice could sometimes boom louder than the chief’s. Hiccup had often woken up to the sound of her barging in their home, shrieking: ‘HICCUP, ya little muttonhead, COME GET YER DAMN BREAD!’ Stoick was usually already out at that hour, and Hiccup, if he hadn’t left for the forge himself, would end up having to climb down the stairs to sleepily thank the woman, who would otherwise keep on screaming. ‘Suffering scallops... Can’t you leave it on the table?!’ Hiccup would yell in response when he was too tired to get up. This had often been his morning throat-clearing exercise. ‘Get yer ass outta bed and do something useful FOR FREYA’S SAKE!’ She’d yell back, as per routine. Why she’d always demand that he receive the bread personally, Hiccup could never understand, and sometimes he suspected his father of always leaving early just to avoid her insufferable presence. Nevertheless, Helga’s bread was by far the best on the island, so she was the one who had the honor to bake for the chief’s house. “Maybe I can make some bread myself,” Hiccup said. “I need barley flour, and a pan... and maybe butter, and…” He bit his lower lip. Those were all goods he could exclusively find in a village. Toothless stared at him, eyes widening with worry. “I’ve got it!” Hiccup exclaimed, triumphant, raising the wooden skewer excitedly, like a warrior would a sword. “We find a deserted island close to a southern village where nobody knows about me. Then, we can fly there before sunrise, so we are sure we can’t be seen, and in the morning we can get the stuff we need. Well… I can get the stuff I need. You’ll have to stay hidden in the forest. And no making fires. We both remember what happened the last time.” He looked at the dragon for approval. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look. If nobody knows about me, there’s no reason to worry. We are south enough, the Northern Alliance doesn’t reach where we are going, so we won’t be meeting any Hairy Hooligans, or Meatheads, or Berserkers. And who’s going to notice a little hiccup occasionally visiting a shop or two? This could work! We just need to look for a good place.” Hiccup’s thoughts began to drift towards the southern seas, about which he knew either very little, or nothing at all. He felt his heart skip a beat, and a grin form on his face. “Actually, the weather is great, and we’ve just eaten.” Hiccup jumped to his feet. “You know what? We are leaving right now!”

They're not the first back to base, probably because they were near the opposite end of the island, so when Wei Ying peeks into the Winners' Room, he sees Huaisang first, tired and dishevelled in the Solo Omega box. It's a transparent box so that they can still see and hear everything going on, air conditioned and air filtered, but it is nevertheless a box because all the Solo Omega winners are still in heat. Wei Ying grins, and raises a fist bump at him. Past him are the Couple Winners, and he takes a moment to parse what he's seeing: Nie Mingjue with Mo Xuanyu. Huh. Well, that's unexpected. Xuanyu doesn't look particularly terrified or traumatised though, and even raises a hand to wave at him. Wei Ying's grin grows wider. Good for him. He limps into the room – the endorphins of the second knotting are starting to wear off now, and Wei Ying's body really is starting to protest the amount of abuse he's put it through in the last week – and he sees it, the moment Huaisang's eyes widen as Wei Ying walks past the Box. It's like a domino effect, the surprise jumping from Huaisang to Xuanyu. It takes Xuanyu a moment longer, but he can smell Wei Ying from where he is – he can smell that Wei Ying's heat has broken. "Hey," he says, dazed, as Wei Ying walks past to join him on the next little marked podium in the Couple Winners section. Even Nie Mingue's eyebrows are raised. Lan Zhan has a sense of dramatic timing that Wei Ying wouldn't have expected from him, as he chooses that moment to sweep in behind Wei Ying, following him up to stand on the step behind his. His hand is light, but he rests the breadth of his palm across the back of Wei Ying's neck, his fingers curled around the side in the most possessive gesture Wei Ying has seen from him yet. His stomach swoops: it feels right. "Mingjue-ge," says Lan Zhan, inclining his head. "Xuanyu. Congratulations." "You too, I gather." Crow's feet of laughter gather at Mingjue's eyes. Yeah, Xuanyu's going to be okay. "Thank you. Do you happen to know what happened to my brother?" A grimace passes over Mingjue's face, long enough that Wei Ying starts to feel a stab of alarm, before he speaks. "He won, I think. Unless something happened in the last few hours." Lan Zhan waits, but whatever it is that has Mingjue unhappy, he's obviously not going to say anything about. That's fair, they're still being filmed. Wei Ying has learnt that while he's not one to mince his words, he's not tactless. Well, he's sure he'll find out later, when he watches the highlights of everyone else's stream. The time for the next winners to arrive stretches, the long wait time presumably meaning that whoever has arrived has been unceremoniously dumped in the Losers Lounge. (Despite the terrible name, it actually looks way more comfortable than the Winners Room because they get to just collapse in a heap on a giant sofa and cry their commiserations and get actual medical attention.) Lan Xichen is the next to arrive, which immediately answers Lan Zhan's question. The omega he has in tow is Meng Yao, and when Wei Ying slides his eyes over to Mingjue, he has a badly concealed scowl. Huh, so something definitely happened there then. It doesn't stop Lan Xichen from clapping him on the arm as he walks past, or Nie Mingjue clasping his hand in return. He gets to see Lan Xichen walk past Mingjue and Xuanyu to see Wei Ying. There's a little 'oh?' of mild surprise to see Wei Ying there, and then a wider 'oh!' moment when he realises it's Lan Zhan stood behind him. "Congratulations," says Wei Ying as neutrally pleasant as he can because he should probably start off on the right foot for a potential in-law, and leans just a little into Lan Zhan's side. Lan Zhan sways back towards him, like they're a set of matching magnets. "Thank you," says Lan Xichen, still visibly surprised. It's like Lan Zhan inherited all of the family's poker face capabilities and Lan Xichen not at all. "And you. If, that is, congratulations are the right sentiment?" "Thanks," says Wei Ying, with a grin. He's enjoying the prolonged sensation of seeing everyone's reactions at him pairing up at long last. At the same time, Lan Zhan says, "Sales of the Qiankun Bag™ are up by 42% since the beginning of the finale." There's a moment of silence, and then Lan Xichen says, with poorly concealed amusement, "That's great. Well done, Wangji." And then he carries on so that he and Meng Yao are standing on their own little podium. Wei Ying turns to Lan Zhan and stares at the side of his face. It's a pretty great profile to stare at. "Lan Zhan," he says eventually, as quietly as he can manage. There are only regular cameras here and no drones, and they're not micced up yet. "Do you actually have a killer sense of humour? I thought – maybe last time had been a fluke." "My brother thinks I'm very funny," says Lan Zhan, which delightfully tells Wei Ying nothing at all.   Ω   It's distressing how little time they get to spend together after they're all coupled up. After the Winners segment has been filmed of them all trooping off the helicopter and into the room, the producer says, "Cut!" and the room dissolves back into a seamless production of a TV show again. It's jarring, after essentially live streaming for a couple of weeks, to go back to staged shots and camera angles and "Can you do that again, with more emotion?" requests. They get ushered off the set by a veritable army of crew members – checked over by medical staff, given a whole bunch of antibiotics and jabs for any nasty infections they might have all picked up having outdoor sex and being bled on by other people for two weeks, and then bundled a set of clothes and shown into the shower. After the shower, Wei Ying looks around for Lan Zhan, who is presumably nearby doing much of the same thing, but another crew member directs him into a small interview room instead. He'd done this as a solo winner and hadn't minded at all, but hadn't considered how terribly annoying it would be to be immediately separated and herded along as part of a couple. "Wei Wuxian! Congratulations, a winner for the fourth season in a row!" The interviewer is new – they tend to be new for this segment, some actual celebrity host with presumably a busy schedule who can only fly in to do the glamorous bits. Wei Wuxian recognises her from daytime TV. "Fourth and probably last," says Wei Ying demurely. Or, a vague attempt at demureness anyway. The point is that people can tell it's fake. He bats his eyelashes at the camera. "Such a plot twist!" says Sisi, playing into it. "I can see that's a real bite as well, so not just a knot, eh?" "Well I think if you're going to do it, you might as well go all the way! And there's no one I would have done it with apart from Lan Wangji." "I think you've moved past the point of calling him by his stage name, haven't you?" She's good. Pointed questions that get to the topics that people are likely discussing on the internet, getting material to fuel the conversation. "Yes, but that's just for his ears only." Wei Ying winks, like 3 million or however many people watching live haven't already seen him calling him Lan Zhan. In retrospect, it's good that they got separated this early. It's always a bit of a whiplash for Wei Ying to slide into his media personality. He's good at it, charming and effusive and a little bit flirty, but it's not really what he's like with Lan Zhan, he realises. They go for a bit longer, long enough that sitting on the high stool is starting to get painful for someone whose ass got blown out earlier that day. He hides it well, he thinks, but he's still grateful when she leans in and says, "Now, the final question. You know what it's going to be. You've never been in this position before, so think carefully." Wei Ying nods. He does know what it's going to be. As a solo winner, he takes home the full prize money for each of the winners. As part of a couple, they get a choice. "The prize money. Are you going to Steal It or Share It? If both of you choose to share it, all's good in love and war, you each get half of the amount. If only one of you chooses to steal it, that person gets the full amount and the other person gets nothing. If, however, both of you choose to steal it, then neither of you get anything at all. Nilch. Nada. A big fat zero. What's your choice going to be?" In the entire history of the show, none of the couple winners have stolen the money. The bad press alone would have tanked whatever sponsorships, engagements, et cetera, et cetera, the extra half of the money would have cancelled out. Everyone has, at least on camera, pretended to actually like the person they knotted with, even if it didn't last afterwards. Wei Ying tries to look like he's thinking. (When he's actually thinking, he mostly looks like he's sleeping, so he tries not to do that on camera.) He waits. The show doesn't even have to build in a suspenseful pause, he's doing it himself. And then he says, enunciating very clearly, "I'm stealing." She clutches her chest like she's been shot and gasps, a long drawn-out affair that lasts a full three seconds longer than it should. Wei Ying appreciates her sense of drama; it really matches his own. "No!" "Yep," he confirms, popping the 'p'. "I'm taking it all." Sisi leans forward and looks at him over her little horn-rimmed glasses. "That's a lot of confidence, Wei Wuxian. What if your dear Lan Wangji also chose to steal it?" Wei Ying shakes his head. "He wouldn't. He's way too nice for that." "And you don't feel bad about taking his half then?" "He is rich. He doesn't need it. I, on the other hand, just became forcibly disengaged from my Career Omega career path. I'm gonna need all the funds I can get," he tosses his head with a sniff. "All right then. For the first time in Hot or Knot history! We! Have! A! Steal!" She flings her hands into the air and a bunch of poppers go off, spraying them in glittery bits of confetti. Wei Ying jumps, laughing as he's caught off guard. "Have the production crew had these lying around for ten years, waiting for someone to finally steal?" He asks, fishing confetti out of his hair; he hadn't even noticed the little fuckers. "Almost definitely," she informs him, and pops one last one into his face. "Now, let's see what happened with your partner." They cut there, which feels almost anti-climactic. "I have to go do this interview with Lan Wangji now. I am so excited," she informs him as she hops off her stool. The crew indicates that Wei Ying needs to wait in here while that happens, since she'll be coming back to film his reaction afterwards. "Don't forget to act surprised," she says. "I won't," promises Wei Ying. She laughs off camera as she wiggles her fingers in a farewell. "You're very good at this, Wei Wuxian. I hope we get to work together again." At least Wei Ying doesn't have to sit on the stool if he's just waiting for Sisi to come back. Hopefully, Lan Zhan's interview will be quick, since he's the concise type. He slides down the wall to sit down opposite the cameraman, and stretches his legs out with a sigh. "You really stealing, man?" The guy – Ouyang Zizhen, if Wei Ying remembers correctly; he'd been an intern last year and it looks like he impressed enough to land it as a full-time gig – asks curiously, unwrapping a cereal bar of some sort. Wei Ying is forcibly reminded that he hasn't eaten in a hot while. "Yeah, I mean, the real answer is that it doesn't matter, right? Not if you plan on staying together. If one of you steals and you're a real couple, the money is kind of both of yours anyway." Wei Ying drops the media persona. "You don't happen to have another cereal bar, do you?" Zizhen fishes one out from his pocket. "Yeah, it's been in my jeans for like ten hours though, if you don't mind?" "That's what he said," murmurs Wei Ying absently, peeling it apart and devouring it in two bites. Zizhen snickers. "Thanks. Come hit me up when your contract for this season's up if you don't have another gig lined up. I feel bad for stealing your food when I'm literally about to win a huge amount of money." "You got a job going?" asks Zizhen sceptically. "Didn't you just say that you're now unemployed?" "I'm marrying rich, I'm sure there's something," says Wei Ying with a shrug. "Again, also why the prize money doesn't really matter. Plus, I'm an influencer, I always need video staff." "Must be nice," says Zizhen wistfully. "But yeah, thanks." The interviewer arrives back at that point – which, wow, was brief even by Lan Zhan's standards – and Wei Ying pushes himself back up the wall. His ass is throbbing even looking too hard at the barstool thing. "Not to like, TMI," says Wei Ying, which is a ridiculous thing to say given he has all of his clothes on right now, "but can I get a cushion or something? My ass is battered." Someone on crew bustles around to find him something – eventually one of the sofa throws folded up into a little square pad that Wei Ying can perch on – as Zizhen busies himself doing nothing with the camera to hide his laughter. There's a screen set up just under the camera that they swivel to look at, with the footage just captured from Lan Zhan's interview. They run through much of the same line of questioning that Wei Ying did, and Wei Ying watches him with interest. He'd seen Lan Zhan's opening interview before the show started – he'd watched all of them for research purposes – and he remembers Lan Zhan being professional and articulate, but largely devoid of personality. It's always interesting to go back and see how his opinions of people change once he's met them in person, how he can spot little tics or habits they do in front of the camera and be able to interpret them differently with context. But Lan Zhan is much the same as his opening interview; like how Wei Ying has a media personality that's him, but a little more of him, it appears Lan Zhan's media personality is him but a little less of him: professional, eloquent, thoughtful. And concise. Terribly, terribly concise. Wei Ying sees the company CEO in that persona; he hadn't, quite, been able to imagine Lan Zhan running a company before. He's been distracted, he thinks, by the musing over Lan Zhan's media persona – he lost the answer to a number of questions. But the important bit is coming up. Zizhen moves his body camera for a better angle of Wei Ying's face. On screen: "…If, however, both of you choose to steal it, then neither of you get anything at all. Nilch. Nada. A big fat zero. What's your choice going to be?" "Share." Lan Zhan answers immediately, no sense of suspense at all. "...Okay. Share it is. Are you worried that Wei Wuxian will steal it from you? I spoke to him just now." "Then whether I worry about it or not matters little," says Lan Zhan. Infuriatingly true. "But no, I am not worried." "Let's take a look at what he did." And then it fades away to a complicated looping Russian doll situation where Lan Zhan is watching a recording of Wei Ying's interview while Wei Ying's watching a recording of Lan Zhan watching a recording of Wei Ying's interview. They get to the moment where Wei Ying can hear his own voice, tinny and faint over the speakers. "Steal!" Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan for a reaction, and grins to himself when there isn't one. They pause the video. "You just said that you weren't worried," says the interviewer, fake concern heavy in her voice. "But it looks like you had cause to be." "I am not worried," repeats Lan Zhan. "Wei Ying deserves the money." "He – deserves it?" "Yes. There should be a third option. Share, steal, and... surrender, perhaps, if you would like to continue the alliteration." Wei Ying sits back smugly. "Surrender!" squeals Sisi delightedly at this turn of events, before remembering that she's in front of the wrong half of the couple to give her an appropriate response to that. "How chivalrous of you. I'll feed that back to the producers, although I have to admit that it's not likely to be a popular choice!" They pause the video there. "Now, you don't look surprised at all," says Sisi, wagging her finger at Wei Ying. He spreads his hands in a modest shrug. "We didn't discuss this segment specifically, but I already knew that Lan Wangji was never here for the money." (He was never here for the heat mating either, but Wei Ying glosses over that part.) "Besides, I'd say he's won the best prize of all, right?" Wei Ying loves this interviewer, because she sets him right up for it, with her eyes wide and hand ready to fly to her mouth. "Oh? And what's that?" "Me, of course." They cut the interview there.   Ω   WEEK 0.5, THE NEXT YEAR   "Hello everyone, and welcome to Hot or Knot: Behind the Sheets. I'm your host, Wei Wuxian, thanks for joining me tonight. I've got with me a winner from last year's season of Hot or Knot, Nie Huaisang, who's going to give us a bit of a preview as to what to expect in the upcoming few weeks. Huaisang, nice to see you again." Wei Ying moves the mic from his face to Huaisang's, and grins at his friend. Wei Wuxian has done a few sponsored events, started his own streaming projects since last year, but it's his first time acting as a celebrity host of anything. He's wearing a replica of his robes from last year, the red and the black ones he was wearing when he got knotted by Lan Zhan, just to visually remind viewers who he is if they've forgotten. Huaisang looks good as well, his hair grown out a little longer this year and wearing a tracksuit that somehow looks terribly luxurious as well as comfortable. They're items from his own clothing line, launched this past year off the back of his Hot or Knot win with the tagline: 'Fashion you could die in'. Well, Wei Wuxian found it funny, anyway. They've kept in touch, he and Huaisang, and Mo Xuanyu as well, so it's a little odd greeting Huaisang like he's a long-lost friend rather than someone he sees every other week or so when he's not travelling, but the director asked them to reveal snippets of their familiarity slowly, to get the audience hooked. "You too, Wei-ge. It's odd to see you on that side of the table."  It is odd, being on this side of the chair, and they both know it. Everything feels a little bit different from this angle, and it's taking him a moment to adjust to the idea that the cameras are behind him and he's not meant to turn to face them. The whole interviewer gig is weird, actually. He's been given prompts and questions that he has to get through, but he's also been told to feel free to ad-lib and try and get interesting reactions out of the contestants (which is probably what Wei Ying is better at than reading off cue cards). "Isn't it just! But I'm glad the show asked me to come back to host some of the interview segments, it's always nice to catch up with old friends. How are you feeling about this upcoming season?" "It's good. I'm ready to see what challenges the show comes up with this time. It feels like the staff always come up with something new." "Yeah, the fake pregnancy sure was an escalation from the fake baby. Which of the new contestants do you think would be a good partner for that challenge this year?" "I'm not going to give it away. I've done my research though, and I've got two or three people in mind. But it would be a coupling for the challenge only, I think." They've already talked about this, outside of the interview room; one of the first things they discussed when Huaisang mentioned joining the show again. "Oh? You're not looking for a long-term partner." Huaisang looks from Wei Wuxian, into the camera. "Oh, not at all. I hear this show needs a new Career Omega, after all."   Ω   "Wei Ying!" The call from the living room is faint, which actually means that it was really loud. "Coming!" Wei Ying darts from the third floor down the stairs, skidding across the polished hardwood floors hard enough that his slippers make the most atrocious squealing sound, and half rolls and half falls over the arm of the sofa, into Lan Zhan's lap. He grins up at Lan Zhan. "Hello." "Hello," says Lan Zhan bemusedly, looking down at him. Wei Ying rights himself, just as the opening shot finishes and the voiceover begins. "Tonight, on Hot or Knot. We meet our omega contestants for the first time, and get to know their dreams and desires. Some, returning faces. Some, fresh faced and unaware of the challenges that lie ahead." "What's this, Lan Zhan? Reality TV? I didn't think you were the type," says Wei Ying as he turns the volume up. "I rarely indulge," says Lan Zhan in that ever-dry tone of his that Wei Ying has grown to love and appreciate. "But I found out that my favourite celebrity was making a guest appearance." "Pah," says Wei Ying, arranging Lan Zhan's arm around his back the way he likes it. "Who cares about some celebrity when you've got a nice omega at home?" "There is also an important business matter," adds Lan Zhan. Wei Ying frowns. He hasn't heard about this bit. He doesn't get involved in the everyday of Lan Zhan's job, but generally Lan Zhan tells him things that are classified under 'important business matters'. "I would like Huaisang to get through to the finale, and send him a prototype of the Qiankun Bag™ 2.0 to use, so we will need to vote for him. You are allowed to vote for one contestant every 24 hours." "Ah, Lan Zhan. I didn't think you were one for audience participation," Wei Ying laughs. Even after a year, he's often caught out by Lan Zhan's knack for understatement.  Lan Zhan presses a smattering of kisses to Wei Ying's temple, and Wei Ying settles down as the narration begins. Even though it's been a year since he was last on the show, seeing it move on without him feels like a new chapter in his life. A new, exciting chapter. "Tonight, on Hot or Knot..."

When I woke up the next morning, Melanie was already out of bed and in the bathroom. I closed my eyes and remembered the night, shuddering as I relived her spanking my pussy. Strangely enough, I felt a tingle between my legs as I thought about it. I wanted to look at my pussy, but I was afraid of what it might look like, so I didn't. I was tender. Melanie solved that for me as she came out of the bathroom in a robe and her hair wrapped in a towel. She marched over to me and pulled the cover and sheet off me. "Lie back and open your legs, Sabine." I shivered, thinking she was going to do it again and my eyes filled once more. "No, no, you silly goose. I have something for it." I laid back and covered my eyes, not wanting to know if she was going to swat me there again. I felt her hands pull my legs wider and then something cool and moist on my pussy. I looked up to see Melanie peering at my pussy as she rubbed some lotion stuff on it. I could just see the top of my slit and it was a little puffy and a deeper pinkish color, but not red as I imagined it. Melanie's hand and fingers, as always, felt good on my pussy and I closed my eyes and let the nice sensations flow over me. I was really enjoying this when our door opened. Ms. Wilson, the resident head, walked in. "I've had some reports of...WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Melanie stood up, remaining surprisingly calm under the circumstances. I shrieked and reached for the sheet, pulling it up. The resident heads had master keys to the dorms and had blanket permission to enter rooms where there was some possibility of misbehavior. My face was hot and burning. Melanie looked at her coolly. "Sabine seems to have a little rash or something and I was putting some antiseptic lotion on for her." Ms. Wilson looked at her suspiciously and then at me. I was shaking. "Is that right Sabine?" "Y-y-yes." "A rash, you say? Let me see." "Ah, Ms. Wilson, it's, ah, on my, um, vagina." "And I haven't seen one before? As I remember, you insisted on showing it to me twice earlier this year, Sabine." She walked over to the bed and grasped the sheet. I reluctantly let go and shuddered as she pulled it off me. Melanie, the bitch, helpfully pulled my left leg open and Ms. Wilson peered at my pussy. I was beet red and humiliated. She reached down and lightly touched my pussy. "It does seem a little inflamed. Let me see the lotion." Melanie handed it to her and she read the label, with me lying on the bed, legs spread. "That may help, but if it doesn't get any better in a couple of days, I insist that you see the school doctor, Sabine. But that isn't why I am here. I had some reports of screams and slapping sounds from your room last night and thought I should check on it. What do you two have to say?" "May I get my robe, Ms. Wilson?" She nodded, curtly, and I got up and scurried, naked, to the bathroom. Once inside I leaned against the wall, shaking. I knew we were caught and there was going to be hell to pay. I slipped on my robe and tied it tightly and walked back out to face the music. Ms. Wilson was sitting on my chair, the one that I fucked myself on for Melanie and I blushed, wondering what she would think if she knew what it was used for. I sat on my bed and Melanie on her chair. "I don't know what anyone said, Ms. Wilson, but I did scare Sabine last night and she did scream, but that's all, isn't it?" Melanie looked at me. "Yes, Ma'am, she scared me and I screamed, that's all." "And what about the slapping noises?" "Well, ah, we had a pillow fight, right Sabine?" "Yes, we did, that could have those noises, I guess." Ms. Wilson looked from Melanie to me and then back to Melanie. She frowned. "Some how I don't think that is the entire truth, girls. Do you want to try again?" "No, Ms. Wilson, it's the truth. Just like I told you, right Sabine?" I nodded this time, my mouth was dry and I wasn't sure that I could speak. "I don't think you are telling me everything. However, if you insist on this story, I must tell you that I am going to be keeping an eye on both of you. Sabine, with your history with others, I will tell you that if you want to talk to me alone, my door is always open. And Melanie, you've been a model student and dorm resident. I would surely think that you would want to tell the truth, so the same goes for you. One last chance, is that your story, scaring leading to screaming and a pillow fight?" "Yes Ms. Wilson." Our voices were echoes of each other's. She looked at each of us again and then stood and walked out. The door closed and I sat, shivering. "Scared me and a pillow fight? Are you crazy?" "I didn't hear anything from you, Sabine. She didn't give us much time to think up a story, just burst in and confronted us." "Jesus, she knows something is going on." "She suspects, but she doesn't have any proof, Sabine. She has to catch us to prove anything." "She's got a master key for God's sake, she can walk in on us at anytime." "Well, yes, but what are the chances that we will be doing anything? I would guess slim." "We have to be careful, Melanie. I can't get caught and have my parents find out and you wouldn't be too happy either." "We just have to get an apartment off campus or something. I'm not giving you up just because Ms. Wilson got a complaint. We'll just be more careful and you have to learn to keep from screaming." "I HAVE TO LEARN TO KEEP FROM SCREAMING?? You're the one who was slapping me, if I remember correctly. Perhaps we need to cut that out..." "If I remember correctly, Sabine, you asked me to keep on slapping you. Or is your memory totally crap?" "Oh fuck you, Melanie." Her eyes tightened and she stood up and took my left arm, pulling me up and dragging me into the bathroom. She pushed me against a wall and opened my dirty clothes hamper, pulling out a pair of my soiled underpants. "Get the robe off now, you little bitch, and get over my knee!" I stood by the wall, eyes wide. Melanie reached over and pulled me to her, sitting on the toilet. I went down over her knees and she reached under me, yanking my tie loose. She pulled my robe out from under me and yanked it off my left shoulder and down my arm until it was off that side. Then she just flipped it over me and it slid down my right arm to the floor. It was tangled around my right wrist and I was naked again. "Open." I tucked my head down and pulled my chin in towards my chest. "No Melanie, no, don't..." She responded by pulling my hair back so my head came back up, then she pinched my nostrils until I had to open my mouth to breathe. As soon as my mouth opened, my soiled panties were stuffed inside it. My left arm was twisted up into the small of my back. I tensed and then... "Whack!" I jerked up, keening, as my ass was struck. "Whack!" My legs kicked and my head tossed. My eyes filled with tears. Melanie reached between my squirming legs and rubbed me on my pussy. In a few moments I had forgotten about her spanking me. "Whack!" I remembered again, kicking and blubbering, but her hand went back to teasing my pussy and I whimpered. "Whack!" My back arched up and I screamed as she caught me right over my pussy, my sore pussy. My legs bent up and stiffened, my whole body stiffened in agony. She felt me again, teasing and a finger slipping into a wet, hot pussy. She fiddled with my insides for a few moments. "Whack!" I squealed and wriggled on her lap, but her arm holding mine, held me down. She teased my pussy some more. "Whack!" I howled into my panties, sucking air through them, tasting myself from the fabric. Melanie whacked me a few more times, heating my ass up nicely, reddening it all over. Then she just pushed me off her knees, letting me fall on my side on the rug in our bathroom. I was lying there, panting and clutching my sore ass, when I heard the key in our door. "Oh God, she's coming back. Quick, get in the shower." I hurriedly peeled off my robe and jumped in the shower, grimacing as I turned it on and cold water gushed over me. Melanie picked up her toothbrush and began to brush her teeth. I faced the bathroom so my ass was against the wall. Ms. Wilson walked in. Fuck, I still had my panties in my mouth. I pulled them out and dropped them behind me, facing her and the mirror. "I was just walking by again and I heard something that sounded like slapping. Another pillow fight, girls?" I had yanked a washcloth down and was rubbing my face with it. Melanie almost choked. "Ah, no, I have no idea what you are talking about Ms. Wilson." She looked at Melanie, then at me. "Sabine..." I kept washing my face. "Sabine!" I jumped as though I was scared and stared at her through the shower door. Hell, I was scared! My hands went over my breasts and pussy automatically. My mouth worked soundlessly. "Sabine get out of the shower." "I don't want to Ms. Wilson." "Get out or I will drag you out." I shut off the water and hesitantly opened the door, taking my towel and wrapping it around myself. "Now I know that you two are lying to me. Let's have the story, now." Melanie looked at me and then at her. Her eyes came back to me, I was no help, and I was only able to tremble. "You wouldn't understand." "Try me." "Ah, God. Sabine?" I was resigned to being expelled and having to go home in disgrace, my parents finding out about Melanie and I and thinking that I was no better than a slut. I spoke in a low quavering voice. "Just tell her." I had given up and was prepared to take the punishment I was going to get. "Let's go in the room and at least sit down." Melanie led and Ms. Wilson and I followed. The two of them sat down, but I didn't, making Melanie grin at me. She was taking this a little too well for me. "Ah, we play games." 'Games, what sort of games?" "Ah, Jesus..." "Oh for Christ's sake, Melanie, they are sort of sexy games, Ma'am." "Give me an example." "Ah, Melanie spanks me." "Really?" I could see that this wasn't going anywhere. I moved over so I was in front of them but facing away. I swallowed and let my towel loose. My hands, still holding the ends of the towel fell to my sides and the towel slowly slid down my back until my reddened ass was bare. "Jesus!" I stood, my ass bare, trembling. I knew that this was the end for my school career. I heard her get up behind me and walk closer. "Does it hurt, Sabine?" "Ah, at the time, yes, but now it's just very warm and ah, um, arousing..." I heard movement closer and then a soft hand touched my ass, making me flinch and sigh. It moved over my red and roughened skin lightly, feeling the heat bubbling out from it. I alternately pressed back, whimpering and pulled away, gasping as the touch was soft and then more insistent. The hand, Ms. Wilson's hand, left me and I stood, facing away, blushing and not a little aroused. "And that's it? Just a spanking?" Melanie walked up beside me and turned my face. She looked at me and then her lips moved to my ear. She whispered. "You decide what to tell her darling. Whatever you want and nothing you don't." She stepped back and sat. "What else do you do, Sabine?" I turned to face her, letting the towel fall to the floor. "Melanie dominates me, Ms. Wilson. She does what she wants and I let her." "So then I should be asking Melanie?" No, she won't tell you. It has to be my decision. And I am not sure of what to tell you." "Why?" "Because you'll use it against us and judge us. It isn't for everyone and because of that people think its wrong. And I don't want to be expelled nor have Melanie expelled." "And if I listen and say nothing, do nothing?" "Your word?" "Yes, you have my word, as long as I feel you are not being pressured." I took her sleeve and walked to Melanie, standing in front of her. Ms. Wilson was standing to our sides. I moved my feet apart and looked at Melanie, then bent and kissed her. I straightened up and took a hand, placing it on my left breast. Melanie looked up at me and squeezed it softly. I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath. "Do what you want, Melanie. Its Sabine, remember." She looked at me and stood. Then she looked at Ms. Wilson. She squeezed harder, making me gasp. Her thumb and index finger pinched my nipple and twisted it. I opened my eyes to see her face in front of mine, and then I looked to my right where Ms. Wilson was staring at her hand and my breast. I whimpered and pushed into the hand, wanting more. Melanie knew. She let go of my breast and then slapped it, hard, making me gasp and making my breast bounce and sway. Then she pinched the nipple again. Her other hand was between my legs, rubbing. I was in heaven with the rubbing. She slapped me again and I sucked in a breath. I let Melanie do what she wanted for a few moments. Then I hugged her, kissed her. I stepped back. "Sit down Ms. Wilson, please." I walked to Melanie's dresser and took out the dildo and plug and lubricant. I walked back and set them on my desk. "Where is the rest?" "Bottom drawer." I walked back and bent, opening the drawer and finding the harness and the handcuffs. I picked them up and walked back, setting everything down on my desk. Ms. Wilson stared at all the toys and then at me, standing naked in front of her. Then she looked at Melanie. "And all this is consensual?" "Does she look like she is being forced?" "There are things that I don't really like, but I get things I do like if I do them." "Such as?" I picked up the anal plug. "This in my bottom. I get something I want for that. And there are other things that don't involve toys that I get something for. It isn't a one way street, Ms. Wilson." "It's not that I don't want to believe you and you are both of age, but..." I sighed and picked up the plug and lubricant and handed them to Melanie. "Are you sure, darling?" I just nodded and bent over my desk, resting my elbows on it. My reddened ass stuck out "Ms. Wilson, participate so you will keep quiet. Pull her cheeks open." I felt strange hands on my ass and my cheeks were pulled apart, exposing everything. Melanie dripped lubricant on my anus and rubbed, then slid her finger up my ass. I whimpered and twitched a little as it went in. Melanie played with me, then slid another finger in with the first, twisting them inside me. "Enough, darling?" I nodded. I felt the plug at my anus and another drizzle of lubricant, glad for her consideration. The plug pushed forward and was turned and slipped inside a little. I gasped but held as still as I could. Another push and more slid into me, making my anus stretch. "Oh my God..." Another push and I felt my anus feel impossibly open and then the largest part was past my ring and I gulped a breath. I still didn't like it, but it was the easiest thing I could think of to show her. I didn't want her to watch Melanie do me or to sit on a dildo or to have Melanie pee on me. And I certainly didn't want my pussy smacked again, at least not for a while. I sucked in another breath, trembling. I looked over my shoulder to see Ms. Wilson staring at my bare, filled ass. "Satisfied Ms. Wilson?" She reached out and barely touched the base of the plug. I winced, my ass was a little sore from the ass fucking I had taken last night. "Actually, no, Sabine. You still could be doing this under pressure. You could be afraid to say anything. Just like before with Rebecca and Amy. And don't think I am stupid and can't figure things out." "What would it take to make you believe us, Ms. Wilson." "I think I should move you out of this room, Sabine. It looks to me like you are being taken advantage of again." "No, Ms. Wilson, no, please, I will do anything you say if you let me stay with Melanie, please..." She was taken aback by how fervently I begged her. I certainly didn't do that the first time she caught me in a compromising position. "Then tell me what goes on in here, truthfully and completely." Melanie looked at me. I looked at her. Then I looked at Ms. Wilson. Melanie turned and walked to the window. Then she turned around. "Ms. Wilson, you are not being fair to Sabine. You are asking her to tell you intimate details of her life. You can't expect her to tell you." "And if I am correct and you have some hold on her? And you are using it for your selfish pleasure?" "What would it take for me to show you that we love each other?" I started to open my mouth. It wasn't being fair to me, but it wouldn't be fair to Melanie either. "No Sabine. Let her ask me. She isn't going to humiliate you just to satisfy her perverted curiosity." Ms. Wilson glared at Melanie. I was beginning to get nervous that things would be said that never could be taken back. I stepped in between the two of them. "Just stop it, stop it. I don't want this anymore than I want to leave Melanie. I just want it over and you to leave us alone, Ms. Wilson." She looked at me, then at Melanie. "Fine, show me that you truly love her, Melanie." "If I do, this is over and we get to live our life the way we want to?" "Um, yes, but I think you two are going to have to move from this room to another, more private room. I can't have students and residents coming to me about noises that they are concerned about and not do anything. If you stay here, it's going to come up again, if you two aren't lying to me." "Where is this room?" "It's on the top floor and at the end of the right hall. No one else is within fifty feet of you." "Jesus, that's five flights of stairs!" "A small price to pay for true love, isn't it?" "Melanie, let it be. We'll have some privacy until we can move out of here." Melanie looked at me and smiled. "All right Ms. Wilson. You win, now sit down and watch how much I love her." Melanie removed the towel wrapped around her think mane of blonde hair. She led me to my bed and gently sat me down, stroking my face when I winced. "Sorry darling, but don't say things that anger me." She slipped off her robe, standing naked in front of Ms. Wilson and I. Her firm breasts stood out from her chest, nipples erect. Her slim torso gleamed in the light shining through our window. I looked at her, still surprised that she wanted to be with me. She was good looking, attractive and I was plain, a nobody. Melanie knelt in front of me. "Let me, Sabine." I flushed, looking at Ms. Wilson. I let Melanie open my legs and gasped when she bent down and kissed my pussy. Then she looked up at Ms. Wilson. She mouthed "watch" to her and then bent down and buried her face in my pussy, kissing and licking me. This time I was the one being loved and I reached down and stroked her hair, whimpering as she drove me slowly crazy. Ms. Wilson was staring at the two of us, both naked and one licking the other's pussy. I watched her, the look of disbelief on her face. And then I had to close my eyes and I clutched Melanie's head in my hands "Oh God, Melanie, oh God, I love you" She licked, kissed and sucked on my pussy right in front of Ms. Wilson, naked and seemingly unashamed. I was, however. I was bright red. I could feel the heat in my face. It felt hotter than the heat in my spanked ass. Melanie lifted my legs up, rolling my ass up and gently removed the anal plug. Then she kissed my anus, something she had never done before. Then she licked it, making sure that Ms. Wilson was able to see exactly what she was kissing and licking. I was moaning when she moved back up and licked my lips and clitoris, lovingly and tenderly, laving each inch of my pussy with her tongue. I was soaking and little tremors had started in my stomach, my abdomen. My hips lifted to her mouth and she sucked and licked me harder, flicking her tongue across my clitoris until I exploded, keening and bucking my hips up and down. Melanie licked and kissed me until I slumped down. I had little after shocks shooting through me, making me twitch. Melanie sat back on her heels and looked at Ms. Wilson. "Satisfied?" "Um, maybe." "Maybe? Maybe? Good God, Ms. Wilson! We are not going to drag everything we do into your dirty little mind!" I had been slumped back, panting, until I heard that. "Melanie, stop it." I looked at Ms. Wilson. "If I tell you everything, this is over, right? It doesn't come up again and we get the room away from everyone, so we can do what we want and no one's tender sensibilities are corrupted...right?" She nodded. I made her write it out on a sheet of paper and then sign it. I put the paper in my middle desk drawer for the time being. I sat back down. I looked at Melanie. She was fuming, pissed off and ready to argue some more. "Get dressed and go out for a while. Take about twenty minutes." I sat, still naked, as Melanie dressed. She walked to our door and turned to Ms. Wilson. "If anything happens when I am gone that Sabine doesn't like, I will get you somehow, Ms. Wilson, some way. You'll pay for hurting my girl. I promise you that and you had better believe it." She turned, opened the door and stalked out, slamming it behind her. Ms. Wilson turned to me, white-faced and angry. "Just let it be and listen to me. Melanie and I didn't do much of anything at first but talk a little and be students. But I needed more and she and I found that for me. I proceeded to tell her about the night I had gone flashing with her and how she stripped me naked in front of the guys at the other school. And the little show at the gas station. I told her how I masturbated in front of Melanie of that night, exploding in an orgasm in front of her. I told her about my stripping in the cornfield and then walking naked to find Melanie and her car. I told her about the two men seeing me naked and then Melanie buying the dildo and using it on me to make me come once more. I told her about Melanie tying me up for the first time, stripping me naked and putting the dildo in me, right in front of our window. How she tied me on her bed and had me lick her pussy until she orgasmed and how she teased me unmercifully until I felt as though I was going to implode. I assured her that I liked that a lot. Ms. Wilson was dumbfounded that two eighteen-year-old girls were doing these things to each other. My first spanking...so deliciously naughty. I told her about us going to the adult store, which shocked her, and how Melanie had pulled down my panties in the store and all the things she bought for us. Not for her, for us. And then having me use the dildo on the chair in front of her naked and bouncing up and down. And then later when she used the harness on me, fucking me in bed and then having me lick her pussy until she orgasmed. The day that Melanie first used the anal plug on me and then fucked my ass, rubbing my pussy while she did, until I came. And me licking her pussy again. I'm not stupid though, I didn't tell her about being peed on or the night with Erin, when they both used me and spanked me. I didn't think she would believe that I willingly let Melanie pee on me or that having another person fuck me and pee on me was something I was willing to do for Melanie. I told her about the two of us licking each other together and then how Melanie got me into a role, playing a mind game with me and using a little physical punishment. I probably shouldn't have said anything, but she had already seen Melanie slapping my breasts. I thought, she'll either believe or not that I like it, I like giving up to Melanie. I told her a little about our games and my desire to be dominated and Melanie's ability to dominate me. Not everything though. I didn't want all my dirty laundry on the floor. She just stared at me throughout the entire recitation. "So Melanie has intercourse with you but you don't with her." "She told me she is a virgin, Ms. Wilson. I don't need that from her anyway; I get enough other things out of this so that is a luxury. If she wants me to do it to her, she'll let me know. I trust her." Ms. Wilson shook her head. "I'm still having trouble believing that you are doing this without some coercion, Sabine. It just doesn't seem to be you." "Still waters run deep Ms. Wilson. You made your offer to both of us that we could come to you anytime and talk if we are not happy. You got me away from the other two and now you want to break up something I am so happy with...can't you just believe me? Didn't you just see me willingly let Melanie put the plug in my ass? Didn't you just see Melanie strip naked in front of you and lick both my pussy and anus? What else can we do to prove it to you? Anything we do, you'll still think the same, that these two girls cannot be truthful. What they are doing is wrong because of your upbringing, Ms. Wilson. It would be better if you came into this room and we each had a guy on top of us, wouldn't it? You may not like that either, but it fits the way things are "supposed" to be much better. Well, Ms. Wilson, not everyone in the world is what they are "supposed" to be. I mean, Jesus, there is a gay and lesbian organization on this campus!" "Yes, there is but neither of you belong to it." "So, if I joined would that make you believe us?" She sighed. I watched her. "No, it wouldn't make a difference. I just can't believe that you two, ah God." "Just let us be and keep your promise to us. Let us have that room. You still have your master key. We can't keep you out of the room we are in, but let us have each other. I love Melanie." "Even with what she does to you? Sabine, think for God's sake." "I have thought. I have used my mind and I want this. We have something special, Ms. Wilson. In four years we may go our separate ways, but we have something now, something wonderful and caring in our own way. Don't take that away from us, please." The door opened and Melanie walked in, shutting it softly. She walked up to me and sat down beside me, putting her arm around my shoulders. She looked at me and then Ms. Wilson. "Well?" "Ms. Wilson, the ball is in your court. I will tell you that you can move us apart, but you can't keep us apart. Do what you have to do and so will we." "Ah, God, against my better judgment, you can have that room, together, but I still may check on the two of you." "Jesus Christ, then we have no privacy." "Take it or leave it. That's all I can say or do right now, but I still don't like this whole situation." Melanie was going to say more, but I put a finger on her lips and shook my head. I smiled at her. Then I looked at Ms. Wilson. "All right, the deal is we can stay together but in that top floor room. You'll keep everything you've seen and heard to yourself, correct?" She nodded. "Then we move in today. Melanie, we have to pack our stuff and haul it up there. So, let's get busy. Ms. Wilson, can we have a key for our new room, please." She got up and nodded once more and left. "Christ, I didn't think you were this assertive, Sabine." "I just know what I want and will do whatever I have to do to get it, Melanie. Now let's get moving, I want to be up there before this day is over." We started packing our clothes, stripped the beds and looked at all our books and sighed. This was not going to be a good day for some things. What only took a couple of hours when we moved in at the start of the year took us six hours with the five flights of stairs we had to climb with each load. And we didn't have our parents to help us this time, just the two of us. We were exhausted, sweaty and dirty by the time we were done. Ms. Wilson watched us and lent a hand with some things but we were pretty much on our own. There were some perks with the room and its bathroom, however. The room was much bigger. Ms. Wilson had told us that much earlier in the college's days that this was an assistant resident's room. The bed was a little bigger than what we had, but it was only one bed. That left a large open area where the second bed would have been. At least for now, anyway. We were going to have to get a second bed in here before long, but neither of us was up to hauling a mattress and a bed frame today. We needed another dresser too. The bathroom was beautiful. It had a large sink with a huge counter and mirror, a shower, bigger than ours was and a huge claw foot tub. When Melanie saw that, her eyes lit up. I knew that look. It probably meant something interesting for me, later. Ms. Wilson helped us with the last load of our stuff. She watched us explore our new home, smiling at how excited we both were. She was all right, for a tight assed, mid thirties woman. "Can we make some modifications to the rooms?" I looked at Melanie and she smirked at me. "I have some ideas already." Then she giggled. I blushed, wondering what they might be. "Check with me first, Melanie." Yes, Ma'am." "I'm hot, sweaty and dirty and I am going to take a shower." After saying that, I stripped naked and walked into the bathroom. Ms. Wilson just shook her head. "Girls, don't make me regret this." "We won't, we promise, and we will be discreet." "I'm counting on that, because if you aren't we will all be leaving the school and I might have to move in with the two of you." I had stopped when I heard her words and walked back out. I leaned against the doorframe, naked and watched her leave us, shutting the door firmly behind her. We slept together that night, naked and holding each other after I had licked Melanie to orgasm.

I was still fuming the next morning. How could that witch come to us and ask us to this, this, fuckerware party? Why did she even think we would go? And why was Melanie even thinking about it? I was lying in bed, mumbling to myself when Melanie woke up. "Don't you have a class?" "I don't want to go, I have something on my mind that is bothering me." "Class is more important. Get up and get dressed and go." "You aren't my mother, Melanie." Oops. She sat up in her bed and fixed me with a stare. "What did you say?" "Nothing, Melanie." "I think I heard something about a mother, Sabine?" Ah, shit. I was caught and might as well admit it. "I said that you aren't my mother, Melanie." "I see. I knew that I wasn't your mother, Sabine. I think you do too. Was there some other meaning that I should attach to that statement?" "Just that I am old enough to take care of myself and I don't need you mothering me. There is something on my mind that I need to work out and until then I won't be able to concentrate on anything." "And that is?" "Nothing that would interest you." "I think I will be the judge of that, thank you. What is it?" "I don't want to go to any stupid party with Ms. Wilson and her friends." "And what if I want to go and bring you with me?" "I don't want to go, period. If you do, fine, I'll be here when you get back." "I think that you are missing something here, Sabine. I said and bring you with me." "I don't want to go, I don't like her anymore and I don't know any of her friends and probably wouldn't like them either." "That's fine, you don't have to like them. And I don't want to hear anymore about it. If I decide we are going, we are going. That means you and I, Sabine. Not me, but you and I." "I looked at her and saw the look she was giving me. My anger at the whole thing was bubbling and it didn't register. "I don't..." "Enough, Sabine. Remember what you said to me. I set the rules, right? I make the decisions, right? You mind me. I don't want to hear another word. Is that clear, perfectly clear to you?" It started to sink in but my mouth was faster than my brain for once. "I don't..." She was out of her bed in an instant, grabbed my hair and pulled me out of mine. I squealed as she dragged me to the door. "No, Melanie, my class, no..." The door opened and she dragged me down the hall, struggling with her, trying to get her hand out of my hair. I was naked; she didn't allow me to wear any nightgowns to bed anymore. And I was staring frantically down the hall to where the other girl's rooms were. "Melanie, I 'm sorry, I really am, I'm sorry, I'll be good, I promise..." In the punishment room and she turned me away from her. She pulled my arms back and held my wrists in one hand while the other smacked my ass, hard. I squealed. "Shut up unless you want the rest of the floor down here, watching, you silly bitch." She lifted my wrists up so I had to bend over and then proceeded to smack my cheeks hard and over and over until they were all hot and red. I could hear the smacks and wanted to scream, but I didn't want anyone down here to see this. The slapping noises as her hand hit my ass were loud enough anyway. I bit my lip and squirmed but kept silent. She really gave me a good hand spanking, the first really good one I had ever received and it was amazing to me how much it heated my ass. Then she grabbed my hair again and dragged me out of the room and back to ours. "Now, will you argue with me again, Sabine?" "No, Melanie. I promise." I tried to sneak a rub to my cheeks. Of course she noticed. "No rubbing. Get dressed, no bra or panties. After class come back here immediately, understand?" "Yes, Melanie." Damn her, she knew I hated going braless. I jiggled, even as small as I was and my nipples, they always stuck out. I'd get looks and blush and I hated it. As I pulled up a pair of jeans, I winced. Christ, she could hit hard! I pulled on a top and grabbed my books, hurrying so I wouldn't be late for class. Melanie watched me, standing in her nightie, not looking at all happy. I dashed out the door without saying goodbye. My class was boring, but I was good in this subject so I didn't mind too much after I got there. It was the instructor, not the subject matter so I could get into that. It made the time go fast and helped me to forget Melanie for a while. It was an hour and half class and I talked with a couple of girls I knew from it afterwards, forgetting that I was to be back right after class. Yeah, I know, pretty stupid. I walked back, enjoying the Indian summer weather and took my time climbing the stairs to our room. When I walked in I saw Melanie, looking at her watch and frowning at me. Then I saw Ms. Wilson and another woman about her age sitting on our couch. I understood Melanie immediately. She was pissed off that I dawdled on the way back from class and my stomach did a flip. My ass wasn't sore, but it still felt warm from my spanking earlier today. A nice warm feeling, but I didn't want another. I watched Ms. Wilson and the other woman look me up and down. I was nervous because of Melanie's obvious pique at me, but I also didn't think I liked how they were looking at me. "Well?" "I'm sorry, I forgot, Melanie. I just talked to two girls for a minute." "I wasn't talking to you, Sabine." "I think she'll do." My face swiveled to the two women. "It's kind of hard to tell, though." I just stared at them for a second, then turned to Melanie. "I don't understand..." "Shush, Sabine." She turned to them, ignoring me. She had a smirk on her face. "Hard to tell?" "Well, she does have quite a bit of clothes on and it is a lingerie party." Melanie giggled. Then she turned to me and my stomach dropped. She had her Melanie smirk going full bore today. "Take off your clothes." "I don't want.." "Sabine." I got the look she gave me. I sniffled softly and slowly pushed off my shoes. I didn't want to do this, but I was afraid of another spanking. I bent and pulled off my socks, delaying as much as possible. I whispered to Melanie. "I don't have underwear on." "So?" My eyes started to tear up and my lower lip began to tremble. I closed my eyes and grasped the bottom of my top. My hands were shaking. I slowly pulled up my top, over my head and off and clutched it in front of me. Melanie held out her hand and took it from me. I crossed my arms over my breasts and stood, blushing and humiliated. "Sabine." I whimpered softly and lowered my hands to my jeans, baring my little breasts. I fumbled with the button, finally getting it undone, but looked at Melanie once more, begging her with my eyes. She just looked back at me, no expression on her face other than expectation. I moaned and unzipped my jeans and then began the stupid dance we all do when we take off tight pants while standing. I squirmed and wriggled, finally getting them off my hips and then bent over to tug them down, hiding my pussy from them. I finally got them off and Melanie took them away from me also, leaving me naked. I had one arm over my breasts and one hand clamped over my pussy. I was blushing and trembling. I could feel how hard my nipples had gotten and I was not going to touch my pussy, afraid of how wet it might be. "She looks fine, but it's still hard to tell with her hands in front of her." "Sabine, hands at your sides." I gave Melanie a look after she said that, not moving, she couldn't mean that. "Sabine!" My hands dropped immediately, baring everything. My face was hot and red. I looked at the two women, who were unashamedly looking at my body. I closed my eyes and shivered. It was good, but humiliating. I liked it when Melanie made me take my clothes off, but lately it had mostly been her and I. Just a few times with Ms. Wilson and she had seen me naked before. This new woman was acting a little too interested in me for my comfort. "Can we see the rest?" "Turn around, Sabine, slowly." I was happy to do that, since it took my pussy and breasts out of their sight, but it also made me show my ass, my fat ass, to them. My lip was trembling all over again. I turned in a circle ending up with me facing them once more. "She'll do just fine, but I think the hair should go." My mouth opened, my eyes went wide, and I stared at her and then turned to Melanie. "I don't..." "Shush. Anything else?" "No, I think she'll do very well." With that they stood and walked to our door. "See you at the party." The door opened and they stepped outside. Melanie swiftly walked up to me and grabbed my hair, pulling me towards the door. "No, no, please, no.." "Shut up, Sabine. You are going to learn not to talk back to me or to ignore what I tell you to do if I have to do this every hour on the hour." I was dragged into the hall, seeing Ms. Wilson and her friend stop and turn. They watched Melanie drag me into the punishment room, smirking. I could have died! And then when she bent me over again and swatted me I began to cry, humiliated, that they had seen me hauled down the hall, naked, and that they knew I was being spanked. They couldn't help but hear the sound the smacks on my bare ass made as Melanie whacked me. Harder than she had already this morning. Much harder. And they had to hear me bawling like a baby. I was so humiliated! Melanie smacked me good again and then left me bent over and bawling, to make my own way back to our room. I finally managed to stop crying, wiped my eyes and walked out to see them standing, facing me and I sniffled again. I stepped out and put my hands behind me, trying to hide my red ass, but mentally I knew it didn't make any difference. They knew, they knew that I had just been spanked and it was so embarrassing. Melanie was waiting for me, standing in our door. She took my hand and kissed my cheek, making me stand in the hall. "I don't want to spank you darling, but I also want you to mind. Will you?" I nodded yes, trying not to look over my shoulder, back down the hall. I was nervous, thinking of someone walking our way and seeing me standing naked in the hall. I kept my eyes focused on her, even though it was hard not to look behind me. Finally she let me inside and she led me into the bathroom. Sitting on the counter was a pair of scissors, ladies shave cream and a razor. My eyes filled again. "Melanie, I don't want to be shaved completely. I'll look like a little girl. I'll hate it." "Darling, it's just until after the party. Then you can grow it back just like it is. Now hop up on the counter and lean back and spread your legs." Lip trembling once more, I did as I was told and watched her pick up the scissors. I closed my eyes and listened to the snips and felt the tugs on my pubic hair. I cried silently, tears leaking out of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. I heard the hiss of the foam and Melanie rubbing it on me and then the scrapes of the razor across my skin. I didn't open my eyes until she wiped the excess foam off my pussy. I looked down and sniffled. I looked like a twelve-year old girl! Melanie rubbed some lotion on me, making me whimper softly and then she thrust the first two fingers of her right hand up my pussy and rubbed her thumb over my clitoris. Her left hand found a breast and teased it, squeezed it, rolled the nipple and soon I was panting and squirming my ass on the counter. Just before my stomach was going to contract and my orgasm hit me; she stopped and pulled her fingers out. I looked at her through teary eyes and she smirked at me. Her hand lifted and I sighed and opened my mouth, sucking my juice off her fingers and feeling my abdomen knot up from denial. She let me clean her fingers and thumb and then stepped back. "Maybe later, Sabine, right now you have class." If I didn't love her so much I could have cheerfully strangled her right then. I slipped off the counter and looked at my reflection in the mirror above it. I sniffled. I was bare down there, nothing at all and it was humiliating, because with my tiny breasts I looked so young. I sighed. Melanie would get her way one way or another, I realized that, but did she have to do things like this to me? I walked into the main room, she was already seated on our couch and she looked up at me and smirked, making me feel worse than I already did. I walked over to my dresser to get a pair of panties and a bra. "What do you think you are doing?" "I'm getting some underwear." "What did I tell you earlier?" I looked at her and then it dawned on me. Before my first class she had said no bra or panties, but she couldn't mean that still, could she? "Um, no bra or panties?" "Yes, Sabine, very good. Now tell me why you are in your underwear drawer?" "I, um, didn't think, ah, you meant all day..." She smiled at me. "Actually I didn't mean all day, but now that you mention it, Sabine, that sounds like a good idea, doesn't it? Let me pick out a nice outfit for you to wear." "Um, my jeans are fine, Melanie." "Oh, I don't think so, we want you to look your best, Sabine." She got up and went to the large closet that we shared. I heard her rummaging around, hangers moving and then she came out. Melanie was holding my shortest skirt and a spaghetti strap top. She walked over to me and held them out. "I can't wear this without underwear, Melanie, please." "Tell me that you are not talking back to me, darling..." I took the skirt and top and shut up. I slipped the top on and then the skirt and walked into the bathroom to look in the mirror. Jesus! My nipples weren't erect but they were showing noticeably and my skirt was mid-thigh, standing up. I hated to think of where the hem would go when I sat down. I walked back out. "Melanie..." She looked up from her textbook that she had been reading. "Enjoy your class, Sabine." I sniffled quietly and picked up my books for this class and walked out the door, careful to not slam it, like I wanted to do. Shit, I didn't want to go to class! Not now, dressed as I was, but if I didn't and she found out. I sighed and headed to the stairs, blushing as I thought what someone might see if they were coming up as I was going down. I hurried down the stairs, meeting a few people but I don't think anyone noticed. Walking across campus to the building for my class wasn't too bad, except for the cool air on my pussy, but when I got in the classroom I looked for a place in the back but there wasn't one. I had to sit in the third row from the front and I as I sat down I heard a whisper. "Why doesn't she just wear a belt, it would be longer than that skirt." I blushed. I heard snickers behind me and I think everyone in the class heard too, because it really wasn't a whisper that was meant not to be heard. It was one of those that everyone was supposed to hear and they did. I sat unable to control my blushing, like always, and kept my knees clamped together. The guy sitting next to me smiled at me, but it was at my nipples, not my face. His look never rose above my neck. A guy and girl in front of me turned and looked at me. The girl glanced at my skirt and snorted, as if I was whore or something. The guy stared at my legs as if he had never seen legs before. I was never so happy in all my life as I was when that class was over. When I got back from class, Melanie was quiet and thoughtful. She did look at me and say hello but she had been studying and went back to that. I wondered if there was something she wanted to say and waited for her, but I soon realized that I had been sort of neglecting my schoolwork, so I sat down to study also. We spent a good share of the afternoon together, but silent and each in their own world. I did notice that she would look at me from time to time, speculatively, and then go back to her texts. I'm sure that I didn't see each time that she looked but enough that I shivered inside. We went to dinner together, each fairly quiet although we did talk some. We got back to the room and studied some more until I had had enough and put some soft music on. I sat on the couch and curled my legs underneath me, letting the music take over my thoughts and not really paying much attention to anything. I was relaxed and thinking about bed when Melanie closed her text and turned to me. "Sabine, darling, remember what we decided on for us?" I was startled slightly, she had been sort of distant and I didn't expect her to talk to me tonight. The thought that she might ignore me hurt. I was happy that she decided to say something to me. "Um, sort of, Melanie. I'm not sure what you are asking me, though." "Do you remember that you told me that I set the rules, darling?" I shivered when she said this to me. "Um, yes, Melanie, I guess I do." I wasn't sure where this was leading. "Good, and I am sure that you meant what you said, right?" "Ah, yes, I did, Melanie." "Good, then take off your clothes, darling." I shuddered inside, but I stood up, feeling that something nice was going to happen to me and I wanted it very much. I undressed, not coyly, but almost eagerly, folding each item as I removed it. I wasn't wearing much anyway and I was soon naked, standing and looking at her. My anticipation was strong. I was shivering and getting aroused without having her touch me. Just the act of stripping while she still was dressed was good for me. "Now, darling, my top dresser drawer. The lubricant and the strapon, get them." I had trouble getting myself to move, but I finally did. While I walked to her dresser, Melanie got up from her desk and walked to the couch, sitting down on it. I walked back with the lubricant and strapon, extending my hands to give them to her. She did take the strapon, but left the lubricant in my hand. "Now darling, kneel down, facing away from me, put your head on the floor and lubricate your asshole." I sucked in a breath. I was not happy at all with this command, because always before Melanie had done this, I had done it one day, just to show her how much I loved her. I had never had to lubricate myself other than that. Melanie always did it for me. Besides, I knew what she wanted and she knew that I didn't like it. I stood, staring at her, unhappy. "Sabine, did you mean what you said or was it just talk?" I shuddered and turned away from her, my eyes filling. I knelt and lowered my face to the floor and opened the top of the bottle. Reaching back, I drizzled the lubricant between my cheeks, sniffling softly and then set the bottle down. I shuddered as one hand reached back and rubbed between my cheeks, finding my asshole and rubbing the lubricant on it. "Put a finger inside, darling." I was trembling, so ashamed as she watched me humiliate myself for her. I slowly inserted a finger in my asshole and shivered. "Move it in and out, darling, finger your asshole for me." I did as I was told, blushing and feeling so embarrassed. She watched me humiliate myself for her for a while. "Where is your finger Sabine?" "In my ass, Melanie." "Does it feel good, darling?" "I don't like it." "Put another finger in darling. Open yourself up for me." I gave out a soft sob and grimacing, inserted another finger. I felt so full, there, stretched open and disgustingly dirty and nasty. "Twist them around and in and out, darling. It will help." I did as I was told, Melanie smirking at me, I knew she was smirking. I could see that look, even with my face on the rug. It was burned into my mind. I heard clothes rustling behind me. My ass felt open, distended. I felt her kneel behind me and I shuddered. "What are you doing, darling/" "I'm fingering myself, Melanie." "Oh goodness, you are fingering your pussy?" "No, Melanie." "If you aren't fingering your pussy, then what could it be?" "Oh God, Melanie, please..." "Oh darling, you can tell me." "Oh Jesus, Melanie, I am fingering my ass." "Sabine! Only dirty sluts finger their ass. Are you?" "Yes, Melanie, I'm a dirty slut." She then slapped my ass cheeks, making me squeal. I should have, but I didn't expect that. "That's good, darling. Dirty sluts should be spanked, don't you think? Now take your fingers out and reach back. You know what goes in your hand, don't you?" I closed my eyes, even if I couldn't see anything because of the position I was in and reached back, finding the cock she had on. I touched it and shivered inside. I lightly took it in my hand. "Now put it where I want it, darling." I knew what she wanted, she wanted to make me ashamed and humiliated and I slowly pulled it forward, sensing her moving closer as I did. I pulled it and her closer and finally the head was between my cheeks. Moaning softly, I knelt, waiting. "Now, darling, take both hands and spread your cheeks for me. Hold them open until I say you can let go." I felt so submissive as I reached back with both hands and whimpered softly as I took hold of my ass. Then, swallowing, I slowly pulled my ass open. I felt Melanie move until the head of her cock was at my ring and I gave a soft sob as she pushed forward. My ring resisted, but it was inevitable. The head pushed through it and I gasped, feeling stretched and dirty. Melanie let me kneel, feeling it inside me, just inside for a few moments. Then she began to speak to me. "I expect you to mind me, darling." As she said this, she thrust in until her hips hit my ass, making me gasp. Oh God, it hurt going in! She wasn't being gentle with me; she was just taking my ass. "I don't want to hear any back talk or any negative comments." She pulled back as she said this and slammed up my ass at the end. "I do not want to have to spank you everyday, but I will if it is the only way that you will learn." The cock slipped back and slammed into my ass once more. I was whimpering softly. My ass felt so full. It was hurting a little, I was struggling to relax my ring so it wouldn't hurt, not entirely successfully. My natural tendency, because I didn't like being fucked up the ass, was to tense up, which wasn't good. "If you understand, push back, darling." I whimpered once more and hesitantly pushed back, this time moving my ass to engulf her cock. moaning as it filled me. "I don't expect you to like this or some other things that may happen, but I do expect obedience from you." As I pushed back again, she drove her hips forward, impaling my ass on her cock once more. I felt shamed, dirty, slutty, humiliated. "Do you understand me, darling?" I whimpered, softly. "Y-y-yes, Melanie." "Will I have any more problems with you, darling?" "N-n-no, Melanie." As she was asking me these questions, she was forcefully thrusting up my ass. Her hips slapped against me, making a smacking sound that was so shameful to me, knowing that she was in my ass, deep in it. "I don't believe that you will be able to obey always darling, but know that I expect it and that there will be consequences if you don't. Now tell me where my cock is, darling." "I-I-In m-m-my ass." "Yes it is. And what is it doing to you?" "I-I-it's fucking m-m-my ass." "Do you like it, darling? Do you like my cock up your ass?" "N-n-no." "Oh, does it make my little girl feel bad?" "Y-y-yes." "But you know that I like it, don't you? I like watching your ass open up for me, watching you shudder as it goes in. I like knowing that you don't really love it, darling. I like knowing that you feel nasty and dirty and ashamed." She plunged her cock in and out of me, fucking my ass. She reached forward and grabbed my hair; pulling my body up, making my back arch and me gasp as she did. She held me up with one hand and with the other she found a nipple and pulled on it harshly, making me gasp once more. "Just remember what will happen to you every time that you ignore me or don't mind, Sabine. Your tight little ass will be spanked and you may get your ass fucked. Right after your ass is spanked or paddled. You do understand me, don't you?" "Y-y-y-yes Melanie." I shivered as she pounded me, my asshole, moaning softly in shame. She reached down and teased my pussy, flicking my clitoris in time with her thrusts. She teased and tormented me, until I was mindlessly pushing back to meet her thrusts, panting and gasping as I was fucked. She knew me, knew when I was so close to the point of no return. She stopped rubbing my pussy and clitoris and pinched and twisted a nipple, hard, making me whine and forget that she had been teasing me. She pounded my ass, fucking it, until she felt that I really understood what she meant. Then she pulled out, leaving me shuddering in front of her. She roughly pulled my face around until it was in front of her cock. I knew what she expected and with a soft cry of dismay, I opened my mouth and she pushed her cock inside it. "Suck, darling. Clean my cock from your ass." I had tears running down my cheeks, so ashamed, so humiliated, but I sucked her cock. I tasted my ass on it, screwing up my face at the taste, but it was what she wanted. I sucked her, using my tongue and lips, a look of distaste on my face. Melanie smirked at me. She tilted my head so she could watch the expressions on my face and I sobbed softly around her cock, sucking, as she wanted me to, sucking until she felt I had been humiliated enough. Melanie pulled back, her cock leaving my mouth and she moved back to the couch. She pulled down her harness and opened her legs. I sniffled, not seeing all that well through my tears but well enough to know what she expected from me, demanded from me. I crawled forward and put my face in her pussy. I licked her pussy and clitoris, split her lips open with my tongue and thrust it into her pussy. Her hands came to my head and stroked me gently as I licked and kissed her pussy. This was much better. I loved licking her. I loved feeling her stiffen as my tongue licked her and from my efforts to give her pleasure. And I was always rewarded for it, Melanie always came and this night was no different. Her hands stroked my hair, my cheek, and I listened to her breathing become faster, change to soft moans. I felt her hands stroke my face lovingly, and then she tensed, lifted up, and mashed her pussy to my mouth. She clutched my head tighter and then she came, rubbing her pussy on my face as I licked and kissed her. Melanie came on my face, holding my head to her pussy as her spasms and shaking slowed and then stopped. She lifted my head up, looking at my wet, shiny face and smiled at me. "You'll be a good girl, won't you, Sabine?" I couldn't speak, I just nodded yes, shivering inside, feeling so nasty for what I had just done, but pleased and happy that she allowed me to make her come. Even with my ass now tender and distended, I felt good that she let me please her. I slumped over on my left hip and looked at Melanie's face, her smile making me happy. She gently pushed my face down until my head lay on her thigh and she stroked my hair, making me happy and loved. Melanie could be so tender and loving, so firm and demanding. She was exactly what I needed. "Darling that was lovely. But I want you to remember that if you disobey me, anger me, ignore what I tell you to do, that you will be spanked and after that I probably will fuck your ass for you. Not that I won't fuck your ass other times, darling, because I love doing it to you, but it will be a part of your correction. Only because of how humiliated you will feel as I do it." She picked up the strapon and handed it to me. "Go and clean this nicely and then you can put the lubricant and it away. Then go to bed, darling." I hurried to do as I was told, cleaning it with hot water in the bathroom, shuddering as I remembered what she had me do and had done to me. I hurried back and picked up the lubricant and put both in her top drawer. Melanie was already in her bed. I wanted so much to crawl in it with her, to have her hold me, but it was not to be. I turned out the light and slipped into my bed, alone. And I quietly cried myself to sleep, disappointed in myself, very unhappy that I was alone in my bed and promising myself that I would be good. Nothing happened for the next two days, it was almost two college age girls again, but there was that hint of tension on my part, wondering nervously and expectantly what Melanie would do or think of next. She informed me on the second night that we would be going to the lingerie party. WE would be going. She made sure that I understood that clearly. I wasn't given a choice in the matter and knew better than to remind her that I didn't want to go. She did me that night, just before bedtime. She had me undress; the act of my removing my own clothes was both embarrassing and arousing. I was a willing participant by doing that. She then had me stand in front of her and she toyed with my pussy, watching the expressions on my face. Watching my face change from embarrassment to arousal to out and out lust as she made me so hot. She toyed and teased with my lips and clitoris, even running her hand underneath me all the way to rub my anus. I jerked when she touched me there. I always did and she loved making me jerk. Once I was breathing hard and fast, she stood up and told me to stay. Then she went into the bathroom and put on the dildo harness, the strapon. Other than that, when she returned, she was naked. To be able to look at her, almost naked, always took my breath away. She was so lovely! Melanie sat down and looked up at me. I shivered and straddled her legs. She held the dildo, she opened my lips. I lowered myself and felt her cock penetrate me. She then sat back, her fingers of both hands on my breasts, toying with my nipples, and watched as I bounced up and down on her. Watched me fuck myself for her. Naked, but not unashamed. Blushing, embarrassed and oh so eager for it. This night she watched me, closely. She watched until she noticed that I was close. Then one hand reached out and teased my pussy and it wasn't long until I stiffened and arched my back, whimpering out loud. I came, explosively and Melanie rubbed my pussy and now her hips were driving up, fucking me. I shuddered through the spasms and then collapsed on her, my head finding her shoulder. When I was conscious enough to know what was going on, Melanie made me look at her. "I talked to Erin today. We are going to her apartment tomorrow evening, darling. A chance to enjoy some new things for us. Something completely different than what we have had over the last few months." I wasn't happy to hear that. Erin had taken advantage of me the first time we had met, not without Melanie's agreement, or for that matter, mine. We had both gotten caught up in the night. I had let things go, perhaps too far, but Melanie seemed to love what I had done. I kept my resolution to myself to be good. I said nothing, not wanting to cause any problems. The next morning I woke up and remembered Melanie telling me that we were going to Erin's tonight. I sighed quietly, in my bed, next to Melanie's. She had made me sleep alone again and I was disappointed. Most times after Melanie had fucked me we ended up in her bed, holding each other. Last night she had sent me to bed alone. I lay there, silently, and remembered the last time I had been to Erin's. I could picture everything that was done to me in my mind and my stomach began to knot up. It felt as though there was a hard lump inside it. It wasn't that I didn't sort of like Erin, but what had happened and how I felt during and after. I didn't really want to get up but after Melanie woke up she had me run a bath for her and wash her. I enjoyed that a lot. She was lovely to look at and I loved being able to touch her skin. I wasn't allowed to touch her sexually, though, just wash her. It was frustrating. I had to use a washcloth so I didn't really get to touch her with my hands. After that, after drying her off, she had me shower so I was clean and fresh. We went to breakfast together, companionable, but quiet. I was thinking about going to Erin's apartment and I couldn't get out of my mind what had happened before. We got back to our room and she told me to study, which I did. Melanie did also. Once I focused on my texts and the homework that I had, I managed not to think about tonight. Melanie sent me out for lunch for the both of us. There was a place on campus where you could spend coupons that we got with out rooms for sandwiches and stuff like that. So I went and returned with lunch. When I entered our room, I noticed a small bag, zipped shut by our door. Of course I pictured floggers, paddles, handcuffs, rope, strapons and any other thing she had for me. My stomach knotted up again. I handed her the sandwich and chips I had purchased for her and sat, my eyes pulled to the bag. I ate but everything I had tasted like sawdust. She knew that my not knowing what was in that bag would drive me to think all sorts of things. She watched my face, smiling at my expressions. I tried to study with her but it was hard to keep concentrating, because every time I looked up my eyes went to the bag. Dinner was a welcome break from seeing it, although I wasn't really hungry. I was nervous, afraid a little, scared, all sorts of emotions running through me. After dinner, when we were back in our room, Melanie took me in the bathroom and made up my face, to make me look pretty, she said. She picked out a nice pair of slacks and a top for me. A pair of filmy thong panties also. You could see my slit through them, which made me blush. And I hated that I was without my pubic hair. And that made me think about the lingerie party which wasn't a pleasant thought either. It wasn't turning into a wonderful evening for me. We left and she drove us to Erin's. Erin greeted us at the door and we went inside. Melanie told Erin to take me to her bedroom and me that I was to get dressed. She handed me the bag that had been in my mind all afternoon. At least I was going to get to see what was in it now. Erin let me in and closed the door behind me, leaving me alone. I set the bag on the bed and opened it, moaning when I saw the stupid maid's outfit in it. There were four sets of handcuffs in it also. I did as I was told however. Taking it out and laying it on the bed. I slowly undressed, the outfit a reminder of that last time here. I put on the stockings and garter belt, then I put my panties back on, knowing that they should be over the garter belt so they could be taken off without having to unclip the stockings. Then I slipped into the black, short dress. It barely covered my stocking tops. The apron was next and then I pinned up my hair so I could put on the stupid hat. I took a deep breath and walked out. Melanie and Erin were in the kitchen and there was a lot of food on trays and bottles and glasses, and I didn't know what to think. "Darling, you look so precious! Are you ready to have an enjoyable time?" I swallowed and nodded yes. I hoped it would be anyway. "Erin is having a small party tonight, and I thought it would be so special if you were to serve people at it. Doesn't that sound fun?" I closed my eyes, I wanted to say no, but I nodded yes after I opened them again. I had thought it was going to be just the three of us again. I could deal with that, mostly, but now I knew that some other people were going to be there also and my stomach knotted up tighter than it had been. What was she going to do to me now? It wasn't long and Erin's guests began to arrive. Melanie was introduced as a friend; I was introduced as Melanie's roommate. But Melanie was a guest and I was a servant. I was told to take drink orders and once everyone but me had one, then I had to walk around with a tray of the snacks. Of course people were sitting down and I had to bend over to serve them. I could feel my dress pulling up behind, well above the stocking tops and I knew that anyone behind me could see the bottom of my ass. That made me blush and feel embarrassed. I had to stand by the kitchen door, waiting until someone needed something and then I had to go and get it. I had to occasionally circle the room with a tray of refreshments, bending over and showing more than I really wanted, but at least I still had the thong on. All night I felt eyes on me, eyes with snickers behind them as they watched me walk about with drinks and refreshments. As they watched me have to bend and show more than was polite. The girls would look at me and giggle. The men just stared at me and smiled. I was red-faced most of the night. I never got used to it, even though it was close to my fantasy of being naked in front of people. Several of them patted my ass, making me blush harder, but Melanie's smiles at me told me not to stop them. She watched me almost all night, smiling at me, which made me feel a little better. At least I was pleasing her by doing this. Finally everyone had left but Melanie, Erin, a man that I assumed was Erin's boyfriend and I. I cleaned up the living room, feeling his eyes on me all the time. Once I had all the glasses and trays and dishes in the kitchen, Melanie called to me. She leaned close and whispered to me. "Go in the bedroom and take off everything but the garter belt and stockings. There is a blindfold in the bag, put it on after you have undressed and laid the four handcuffs on each corner of the bed. Then lie down on your back in the middle of the bed, darling." I shuddered inside, picturing Melanie and Erin teasing and tormenting me. I walked slowly into the bedroom and closed the door. Swallowing nervously, not knowing for sure what was going to happen to me, I undressed. I laid out the handcuffs and then put the blindfold on. I lay back on the bed, shivering. I don't know how long I lay there alone, but it seemed forever. I finally heard the door open. I couldn't see, but I felt two people sit down by my head and pull my arms out and fasten them in the cuffs. Then hands were at my breasts and nipples, teasing them into hard points. I was moaning softly, becoming aroused, when I felt another pair of hands on my left leg, cuffing my ankle. I tried to sit up, panicking. "Shhhh, darling, relax. You want to please me, don't you?' I felt the hands on my right leg, cuffing that ankle also and I softly whimpered. Who was it at my feet? It wasn't Melanie; she was at my head. I didn't think it was Erin. She, I was sure, was on my other side, toying with my nipple. I swallowed. "Y-y-yes, Melanie." I felt the bed between my legs dip as someone got on it. I trembled and wanted to close my legs but I couldn't. The person moved up and I felt a hand on my thigh. It stroked my thigh, caressing me. Two more hands teased my nipples. I was a little afraid, nervous, but the touching worked to distract me until the hand found my pussy. Then I stiffened, gasping. "Darling, relax, I want you to do this for me. I want to see you do this. You want to please me, don't you? " "Y-y-yes Melanie." "Tell me what you want to do darling." "I-I-I want t-t-to please you Melanie." "Good girl." The hand at my pussy stroked it and then a finger went up it. I stiffened again and I realized that it wasn't a girl's finger but a man's. It was much thicker than a girl's was, longer, and I whimpered. "Melanie...." "Yes, darling?" "Who i-is th-that?" "A friend of Erin's." I sensed him leaning over me and felt the bed move down by my ribs. I gasped as a warm cock, hard and throbbing, touched my lips. "Melanie, no..." "Darling you want to please me, don't you?" "Y-y-yes, but Melanie...." I felt the tip of it rub between my lips. Lying naked on the bed waiting for them had my mind working, thinking of what they were going to do to me, and the touching that had already happened had aroused me, but I wasn't sure if I wanted this. I just knew that Melanie did. And I wanted to please her, to not disappoint her. I lay trembling as he rubbed his cock on my pussy lips. It felt so hot to me. It felt alive. I could feel it twitch as he rubbed my pussy with it. "Melanie, please, hold my hand, please." She took my hand and gently squeezed it. "I-i-is this w-w-what you w-w-want?" "Very much darling." I took a breath. I squeezed her hand back. I didn't see but Melanie nodded to him and he slowly rubbed the tip of his cock between my lips and then found the hole. He pushed his cock up my pussy. slowly. I gasped and squirmed as he did, feeling it fill me. It felt different than Melanie did, warmer, almost hot and it seemed to twitch inside me, not like what a dildo felt like inside me. I felt his pubic hair touch my bare skin and knew he was into me all the way. It wasn't as large as Melanie's favorite dildo. It didn't hurt, it just felt different. The sensations were different than Melanie. But I was ashamed to be doing this in front of her and Erin had to be watching too. I clutched her hand and felt him withdraw and then slide back up my pussy. Melanie and Erin played with my nipples as he thrust in and out, slowly, letting me feel it. "Darling it looks absolutely lovely going in you. It's so naughty too, fucking in front of Erin and I. Do you feel naughty, darling?" Y-y-yes." "Does it feel good?" "N-n-no, I want you Melanie." "Ah but darling, I want to see this. And you look so lovely. You'll be a good girl and enjoy it for me, won't you?" I shuddered as he continued to thrust into me, his cock warm and throbbing inside me. "Not in her pussy. Where is his cock, darling?" "It's I-in m-my pussy." Yes, but it isn't a pussy right now is it? What is it?" "M-m-my c-c-cunt." "Mmmmm. That's right, Sabine, it's a cunt." "What is doing to you, darling?" "F-f-fucking me." "Where is he fucking you? "In m-my c-cunt." I felt him pushing into me harder and faster. His belly slapped on mine. I clutched Melanie's hand tight and whimpered. Erin continued to tease and toy with my left nipple, giggling as she watched me being fucked in front of her and Melanie.. "Not in her." I didn't know what she meant until I felt him pull out of my pussy and climb over me his knees at my shoulders. "Lift your head up and open your mouth darling." I did as I was told and felt him feed his cock into my mouth, too deep, making me gag. I tried to pull back, but someone held my head up. I tasted my pussy and something else. "Suck darling." I squirmed. "You want to please me, don't you?" I shuddered inside and began to suck him feeling like a slut, a whore. I wanted to please her but I was embarrassed and ashamed. I couldn't move my head very well. But I sucked because she wanted me to suck. It wasn't long before I felt his body stiffen, then his cock seemed to get harder, it twitched in my mouth and then he came in my mouth. My head was held up so I couldn't pull back and I felt the spurts hitting the roof of my mouth and my throat. I gagged but was held still, my mouth filled with cock and sperm. He finally pulled his cock out and I was going to spit. "Swallow, darling." I whimpered softly but I steeled myself and swallowed, feeling it slide over my tongue and down. I gagged again. I swallowed again. I felt sick to my stomach and lightheaded. I felt him leave the bed and Erin also. My face was hot as I remembered what had been done to me, that Erin had watched it done to me. Melanie got off the bed and opened the cuffs on my ankles. I brought my legs up and curled my lower body over, hiding my pussy. I felt so slutty. She undid my hands and stroked my hair as I sniffled. Melanie didn't talk to me, but she helped me up and helped me dress, putting all the things back in the bag. Then she took my hand and the bag and we walked out. Erin was sitting on the couch. He wasn't there. I flushed as she smiled at me. Melanie told Erin good night and we left. The ride home was silent. When we got to our room, Melanie set the bag down and held my face in her hands so I had to look at her. "You looked so lovely and I wanted to see that, darling." "Who w-w-was h-h-he?" "I don't know his name." "Does Erin?" "Maybe, but she won't tell you." "Why?" "Because you don't need to know, darling. All you need to know is that you pleased me very much tonight." I felt a little better but I was still ashamed. "Was Erin..." "Watching?" "Y-y-yes." "Yes, she was the other one there." I flushed again. Melanie made to kiss me. I moved back. "I need to brush my teeth first." "Fine darling, then come to bed." I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth for a long time. I undressed and turned off the light. In the moon light through our window I could see Melanie in her bed. She motioned to me and I walked to her and got into bed. She kissed me deeply and held me. I cried softly into her shoulder. She had the harness on and she gently pushed me to my back. Then she got between my legs and slowly thrust the dildo inside me. She wasn't hard or rough and demanding. She held me, kissed me and made love to me, thrusting in me steadily, gently and lovingly until I came, quivering and gasping under her. Then she rolled to her back next to me. She didn't have to ask. I knelt up and helped her out of the harness and lay between her legs. I licked her, kissed her and made her come, shuddering and panting. She pulled me up and kissed my wet face. "I love you darling." I just held her tighter and buried my face in her shoulder. Melanie stroked my hair and held me tight also. Being with her allowed me to relax and forget what had happened, mostly, and I fell asleep in her arms. It took a while but Melanie stayed awake until I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was Melanie kissing my cheek softly.

Aizawa was both relieved and exhausted when he made his way to Midnight’s apartment later that night.  Talking to Shinsou had gone better than he had hoped for and by the time Shinsou was yawning sleepily, Aizawa was already feeling content and at peace with the way things were going between them.   Once he had sternly told Shinsou that he needed to return to the dorms to actually get some sleep, Aizawa had opted to not take his own advice and he instead left his apartment to head to Midnight’s, assuming that both Midnight and Present Mic would likely be waiting for him.   “You two still awake?” he asked as he peered into Midnight’s apartment, opening the unlocked door without bothering to knock. “Shota!” Midnight called from the couch, dressed in an oversized shirt with her hair twisted up in a bun as she cradled a steaming mug in her hands.  She tilted her head back with a smile as Aizawa slipped into her apartment wearily.  “It’s about time you got here!”   “We were wondering if you’d ever make it here tonight,” Mic added as he sipped from his beer from where he was sprawled on the other side of the couch, his leather jacket slung over a nearby chair and his hair combed out and draped over his shoulders.  Mic pointed with the bottle in his hands towards the coffee table, which was currently covered with bags and boxes of take out.  “You should eat.” Aizawa nodded, his shoes off and his body already moving forward in the familiar, well-established routine.  He was grateful that the two of them withheld their anxious comments and well-meaning questions as he sorted through the crumpled bags and investigated the contents of the now-cold boxes.  He could feel both of their eyes on him as he helped himself to some food but they didn’t comment as he slumped into a nearby chair.   Midnight, who had retreated briefly to the kitchen, returned with a cup of hot tea for Aizawa and Mic tapped on a whisky bottle with a questioning hum as Aizawa shook his head at the unspoken question.  It wasn’t that sort of a night. Aizawa gratefully began to eat his dinner, not even minding that it was cold and ignoring Midnight’s exasperated sigh of you know I have a microwave while Mic laughed.  Aizawa didn’t care.  It had been a long day and he hadn’t eaten since noon.  And Aizawa wasn’t the sort to be picky.  He was hungry and tired and all he wanted to do was consume the cold takeout and then bask in the comfort of his friends.  It was that simple. Apparently, Mic and Midnight were only able to restrain themselves until Aizawa had gotten halfway through his curry.  Aizawa was mid-chew and about to dip his chopsticks down for another bite, when Midnight broke first. “Sooooo,” she said, watching Aizawa closely and giving him her most sympathetic expression.  “How’d it go?” Aizawa repressed a heavy sigh and instead opted for a baleful glance at Midnight.  “How’d what go?” Aizawa asked flatly, chewing his food and ignoring his friends’ resulting scowls.  He had hoped he’d at least be able to finish most of his late dinner before they started pestering him for details about his talk with Shinsou. “Shinsou came over, right?” Midnight asked, looking annoyed that Aizawa was even making her clarify her statement.  “I just wanted to see how that went after the meeting.” “Oh,” Aizawa hummed, sounding less than amused.  “Is that what you wanted?” “Shoooo,” Mic whined immediately.  “Don’t shut us out!  We want to know!” “Want to know what?” Aizawa asked grumpily, taking another bite. “How did it go?” Aizawa swallowed his food and finally put his chopsticks down, looking up at the pair in irritation.  “What do you want to know?” he asked, too wrung out to even begin to play coy about any part of the situation. Midnight smiled encouragingly.  “We genuinely just want to know how everything went.  Shinsou’s been through a lot lately.  And that meeting was — well, he looked a little shell shocked.” “We want to know what’s going on,” Mic piped in.  “What’s really going on.  You can shut Nezu and Hiyori out, but not us, you know.” Aizawa sighed.  He knew the two meant well.  They always meant well.  But he was trying so hard to deal with his own issues and uncertainties regarding the entire Lock Box quirk that he wasn’t entirely sure how to vocalize what was going on. “Everything’s fine,” he said after a moment. “Fine?” Midnight repeated, her voice lilting in a question.  “What does that mean?” Aizawa glowered, knowing immediately that Midnight was just trying weasel information out of him.  “I am not having this discussion with you two,” he said grumpily, crossing his arms. “Why not?” Midnight grinned widely.  “Unless — ” “Unless what?” She looked curiously at Aizawa.  “Unless something happened?” Mic’s head jerked up in alarm and his face paled instantly.  “Wait — what did you — did you do something?” “What?” Aizawa looked up from where he had sunk into the couch.  “No!  What the hell, Zashi,” Aizawa hissed, far too irritated to deal with Mic’s melodrama with any degree of patience.    Midnight smacked Mic’s arm.  “I meant they had a heart-to-heart or something equally out of Sho’s comfort zone,” she scolded.  “Not that.” “Well how should I know?” Mic whined. “We talked,” Aizawa said firmly, trying to stave off his exhaustion.  “That’s all.” Midnight and Mic exchanged a look.  “But?” they both asked, tilting their heads in tandem that made it look almost rehearsed instead of just creepily obsessed with the drama. “But nothing,” Aizawa huffed. Midnight and Mic exchanged yet another look and Aizawa had to resist the urge to strangle them both right there in Midnight’s living room. A slow smile appeared on Mic’s face.  “You look all wretched and miserable because you talked to him?” he asked, looking more amused than sympathetic. Aizawa shook his head.  “I’m just — I’m terrible at this.” “Shota,” Mic said, his smile a little too gentle for Aizawa’s tastes, “we’re not here to tease you.  We just wanted to check in.” “Could have fooled me,” Aizawa huffed. Midnight smiled kindly.  “Shota, we know how hard this is for you.  But you can trust us, you know?  We just want to help.” Aizawa let out a breath, trying not to literally growl in frustration.  “You know that — talking to people isn’t exactly one of my talents.” Mic laughed, leaning back on the couch as he sipped his beer.  “Well, that’s not really a surprise to anyone, Sho.” Aizawa glared at him.  “That’s not helpful.” “I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Midnight said, crossing her legs as she settled back into her chair.  “Just tell us what happened.”  Aizawa’s face twisted in annoyance.  This was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it would probably be helpful to run everything by his friends; not only were they more socially adept than he was, but he trusted them and their opinions fully. “He told me that Lock Box talked to him,” he grunted after a moment. Midnight nodded, not looking surprised in the slightest.  “Of course she did,” she said wearily.  “Hiyori gave me quite a scolding after the meeting.  She knew we went behind her back to set up Shinsou going to your apartment.” “We weren’t that bad,” Mic pointed out.  “We only said we thought it prudent that you had a safe space for the emotional bonding — and I stand by that.” Aizawa nodded.  “Well, I’m glad she spoke to him in any case.” “Of course,” Midnight exclaimed before Mic could say anything.  “I’d be concerned if Hiyori didn’t talk to him after that display.  It’d be downright irresponsible of her not to look into that.” Aizawa hummed in agreement and picked up his chopsticks again.  “Well, Shinsou said he thought he diverted her suspicions,” Aizawa said, not bothering to elaborate what Lock Box’s suspicions were in the first place.  He instead talked around the issue like he always did. “Well, that’s good!” Mic exclaimed, looking between Midnight and Aizawa anxiously.  “Right?” Aizawa took another bite of cold curry while Midnight nodded firmly to Mic in response. Mic let out a relieved breath.  “Alright, so that’s alright,” he said, combining his fingers through his long locks.  “So what else did Shinsou talk to you about?” Aizawa chewed slowly, not wanting to discuss Shinsou’s concerns with his friends, but Mic and Midnight were patient and were more than fine waiting for him to speak.  Sighing inwardly, Aizawa once again set his chopsticks down.  “He wanted to know about logistics,” Aizawa said heavily. “Logistics?” Midnight echoed, his nimble fingers idly beginning to braid a few strands of his hair. “He wanted to know what the plan was,” Aizawa clarified, reaching for his tea, mostly to give his hands something to do. “He’s nervous,” Midnight said, touching her hand to her chest.  “Don’t you get it, Shota?  He’s trying to figure out how to proceed with this logically.” “He’s trying to be you, ” Mic added, looking touched but saddened. Aizawa scowled at that.  “He doesn’t need to be me.  He shouldn’t be trying to be me.” “Shota!” Midnight cooed, looking far too enamored for Aizawa’s tastes. “So,” Mic said, leaning forward, his half-braid forgotten.  “What did you tell him the plan was?” Aizawa sighed.  “I told him we should discuss a few things first,” he said flatly.  “I asked him how he was doing — I know he’s been asked that a thousand times over but he never answers honestly — and he said his emotional state was fine and he wanted to know the logistics for how we were going to move forward.” Mic nodded.  “That seems reasonable.” “I asked him if he was alright with me returning to teach,” Aizawa said after a moment.  He looked down into his mug of tea and watched the steam swirling on the surface of it, feeling suddenly bashful at relaying his conversation with Shinsou to his friends.  “And — ” he added in a quiet voice, “ — I asked him if he would be comfortable going to my actual apartment.” Midnight raised a brow at that.  “And?” “He said yes.  And then he — he asked me if I would be comfortable having him at my apartment.” Midnight and Mic exchanged a look that was far too knowing and Aizawa pushed past it quickly. “I told him it was fine,” he said shortly.  “And he said there weren’t any other immediate issues that we needed to discuss, other than figuring out how to bond.” “Figuring out how to bond?” Mic repeated incredulously with a snort.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aizawa glanced up at Mic and Midnight, then hurriedly redirected his gaze back to his tea cup, but both of his friends had already caught the faint flush on his cheeks. “Shota!” Midnight exclaimed quietly, looking both delighted and rather pleased. “What did you tell him?” Mic asked at the same time, with an equally wide grin plastered on his face. “I didn’t tell him anything,” Aizawa huffed.  “I asked him what he thought we should do.” “You asked Shinsou what to do?” Mic repeated in a slightly awed voice while Midnight clapped her hand over her mouth either in shock, amusement, minor appalling or some combination of the three. “He’s the one who was asking about logistics!” Aizawa shot back irritably. “Shota!” Midnight chastised, despite her delighted grin. Aizawa scowled.  “Shinsou wanted for us to bond more — to work on emotionally coming closer together.  So, I asked him what he wanted to know — ” Mic laughed, looking more delighted than Aizawa would have preferred.  “Well, what was he supposed to say to something like that?” “I don’t know!”  Aizawa huffed.  He sighed after a moment.  “He said the same thing when I asked,” Aizawa admitted quietly while Mic shook his head. “Well, so what did you say?” “I — told him my favorite color.” Mic and Midnight both stared at him, their eyes wide.  Then they both threw their heads back and laughed, cackling at Aizawa’s awkwardness and embarrassment. “It’s not funny,” he pouted. “Shota, you’re hopeless.” “I didn’t actually tell him that,” Aizawa said with an irritated sigh.  “I was being sarcastic and asked if he knew it.” “Shota,” Midnight said seriously while Mic continued to shake his head, laughing, “you need to learn how to open up.” “It’s not something I can just learn overnight,” Aizawa snapped angrily. “Of course not.  But you’re going to have to get better at it,”  Midnight said, shaking her head.  “Don’t worry, Shota.  We’ll help you.” Aizawa shook his head helplessly.  “I just — I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.  One minute I’m his teacher and now I’m supposed to be — I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”  His hands curled in frustration.  “I can’t be his teacher, his mentor, and his friend all at the same time.  And I just don’t know which mode I’m supposed to go into when I see him.”  Aizawa looked up, his features twisted.  “I never had to think about it before.  I never had to even give it a thought.  It was just natural.  And now — I don’t know.” Midnight and Mic exchanged a look.  “Well, Sho,” she said gently, “I think the answer is that you’re not supposed to be any of those things to Shinsou right now.  As hard as this is for you, this entire process is about Shinsou and how to help him.  Not about your relationship with Shinsou.  Whatever is going on between you two might have to get put on the backburner.” Aizawa growled softly in distress.  “I know.  I know it’s not about me or my feelings.  It’s about helping him.  But I just — I don’t know what he needs.” “Yes you do,” Mic said quietly, his features softening as he looked at his friend.  “You can’t be Shinsou’s mentor or teacher or colleague right now.  You’re supposed to — essentially — be his boyfriend.” “This entire experiment is rooted in your emotional bond with him,” Midnight nodded.  “It’s not enough to be close.  You have to love him. You have to take care of him — ” “I do!” Aizawa said harshly before freezing in surprise.  “I — I mean, of course I will,” he corrected hurriedly. Midnight and Mic both smiled gently at that and Aizawa busied himself with drinking his tea in order to ignore their responses. “Well,” Midnight said gently, leaning forward to begin to package up the takeout, “I think this is good.  You both seem to be heading in a positive direction with this.” Aizawa snorted into his tea at the thought of calling any part of the physical component plan a “positive direction” but he chose not to comment on it for the time being. “So,” Mic leaned forward, his eyes glimmering as Midnight shuffled to the kitchen to put the leftovers into the refrigerator, “did Shinsou actually end up asking you a question, then?  Or did you just tell him your favorite color and call it a day?” Aizawa rolled his eyes but knew that both Mic and Midnight would never stop pestering him until he answered.   “He wanted to know what I thought of him.” Mic blinked as Midnight poked her head out of the kitchen curiously.  “What you — thought of him?” Aizawa, who was far too grumpy to continue the conversation, crossed his arms sullenly as he settled into the chair.  “What I really thought of him.” Midnight sank back into her chair, looking both amused and curious.  “So, what did you tell him?”  “The truth,” Aizawa said simply. Mic raised a brow.  “The whole truth?” Aizawa’s cheeks darkened slightly.  “Enough of it,” he admitted after a moment. “Well,” Midnight said with a grin while Mic beamed happily.  “I’d say this really is progress, then.” Aizawa glared into his mug, doing his best to ignore the cautiously happy expressions on his friends’ faces.     “Good morning” Jirou said cheerfully as Shinsou stumbled into the kitchen.  Without even needing to be asked, she immediately slid an empty mug down the counter to him. “Thanks,” Shinsou mumbled, still half-asleep as he caught the mug, squinting at the counter for the coffee maker. Jirou didn’t seem to mind.  She tilted her head at him, one of her ear jacks gesturing at him as she stirred sugar into her tea.  “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but — you look good.” Shinsou, who was still grappling with his sluggish motor skills in trying to grab and lift the coffee pot to pour its life affirming contents into his mug, blinked as he processed what she said.  “Huh?” Jirou gently tapped her spoon against the rim of her mug before placing her spoon in the sink.  “You just seem like you’re doing better.”  She offered him a slight smile.  “Right?” Shinsou’s brain finally caught up to what she was saying.  “Yeah,” he said sheepishly, unsure of how else to respond to her statement.  “Yeah, I feel — I feel like I’m doing a lot better now.” “That’s good.”  Jirou paused, as if considering, then reached out and touched his shoulder.  “I’m really glad to hear that, Shinsou.” “Thanks,” he said softly as Jirou exited the kitchen, feeling a warm flutter in his chest; it was nice to feel cared about.   Things had been steadily getting better and better for Shinsou.  Returning to training had felt like a return to himself.  Going to class was one thing, but going to class, and then training, and then repairing his relationship with Aizawa?  And with Lock Box’s quirk helping set aside the overwhelming emotions of his trauma?  It meant that he felt like he was himself again.  Shinsou Hitoshi, future underground Pro Hero.  It was where he wanted to be and a part of him couldn’t be happier to actively feel himself beginning to rapidly make improvements towards his recovery. Shinsou leaned against the kitchen counter, inhaling the aroma of the cup of coffee in his hands, and had nearly reached a level of contentment and peace when his tranquil morning was abruptly interrupted by an ear-splitting sound. “GOOD MORNING, LITTLE LISTENERSSSSSSS,” an impossibly loud voice made Shinsou nearly drop his mug. He swore, steadying himself and his cup of coffee in his hand, before leaving the kitchen and venturing out into the common room where none other than Present Mic was standing among the couches. Shinsou scowled — not that he wasn’t happy to see Present Mic — but much like Aizawa, anything with a volume over a decibel of fifty before noon was a crime against humanity in his book. “Present Mic sensei!” Yaoyorozu said, ever the social diplomat in situations like this.  “Good morning!  It’s good to have you here.” Bakugou, who was leaning against the wall near Shinsou, his hair still glistening from his early morning run’s shower, glared at the man.  “Who the fuck is this loud in the morning?” he growled, echoing Shinsou’s sentiments perfectly. Midoriya, who had come over to the pair, gave Bakugou a pleading look, as if hoping that would make him behave, before smiling shyly at Shinsou as he turned to hear what their English teacher wanted to say. “I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!” “We can hear you just fine,” Bakugou said loudly and Shinsou remembered with a jolt that Bakugou was worried about his hearing — in the rush of everything happening to him, Shinsou had nearly forgotten that he wasn’t the only one with issues going on as well. Mic chuckled and gave a slightly apologetic bow.  “Sorry, sorry,” he said with a grin.  “Force of habit.  Anyways!  I am here to make an announcement!” “What is it, Mic sensei?” Iida pushed forward, his chest puffed out proudly. “It’s regarding some changes to your homeroom teacher,” Mic said and Shinsou suddenly realized why Mic was purposefully not making eye contact with him.   “Is Aizawa sensei back?” Uraraka practically squealed while Hagakure and Tsyu nodded eagerly and Tokoyami and Kirishima both pushed themselves to their feet.  Shinsou had to bite back a smile at that; he hadn’t realized how much his classmates had missed Aizawa.  It seemed they had missed Aizawa almost as much as he had.  And while part of him was a little territorial over that, another part of him was just thankful that the other students cared as much as he did.  Because he wanted Aizawa to have the love and support of all of his students, not just him.  The man certainly deserved at least that much. “Yes, Aizawa is back from his mission,” Mic said smoothly and Shinsou had to look down at the ground to hide his blush since Aizawa had been on campus the entire time, just hiding away from the world as he grappled with the fallout of knowing what happened with Silvertongue and Shinsou.  “He’s back on campus today so you’ll probably see him soon.” “What about Lock Box sensei?” Ojiro asked while Kaminari continued to pet at the fur on his tail.  “Is she still going to be our teacher or is Aizawa sensei starting back immediately?” “Lock Box will still remain your primary homeroom teacher for now,” Mic said easily, “although Shota might stop in to observe your class and assist with running some trainings.” “So — he’s not back?” Kaminari asked, sounding confused. “He’s back in a partial capacity,” Mic answered.  “We’ll keep you updated once we’re better aware of what’s going on.  But for now, the rest is classified.”  Mic slapped on a broad grin as he looked around at the rest of the students and Shinsou knew enough to clap his hands over his ears to protect himself from Mic’s shout that they BETTER ALL GET GOING OR THEY WERE GOING TO BE LATE FOR CLASS, followed closely by Bakugou yelling in absolute outrage over the unnecessarily loud volume.   The rest of the day was so normal and mundane that Shinsou had almost completely forgotten about Present Mic’s minor visit to Heights Alliance earlier in the morning — until Lock Box ended her lecture nearly two hours early with a slight smile on her face as she announced that they would be spending the rest of the day in a training session. Shinsou spent the walk over to the training hall not even thinking about what might be coming as he chatted with Ojiro and Kaminari about the latest class drama that happened over lunch (involving some potential drama about some students from Shiketsu High School potentially being poached by some other hero agencies and some minor drama involving a rumor that Jirou and Yaoyorozu might be a little closer than friends).   He was in a good place: happy that his mind was no longer constantly buzzing with panic, happy that he was surrounded by friends, happy that he had had a good and productive conversation with Aizawa the night before, happy that his school and teachers continued to support him, and happy that he was now being allowed to participate in trainings once again. Things felt normal.  And normal felt good. “Shinsou!” Lock Box hailed, grinning brightly as she slipped beside him. “Lock Box sensei,” Shinsou gave a small bow and a smile as Lock Box fell into pace next to him. Kaminari and Ojiro slowed their pace, sensing that she was stopping by to check in on Shinsou. “I just wanted to see how you were doing?” she asked, no lilt of suspicion in her voice and no raised eyebrow to signal that she was trying to point at any ulterior motives.  She genuinely was just checking in on him.   “Good,” Shinsou answered without hesitation.  “I’m just excited to get back to training again.” Lock Box grinned, a little wickedly this time.  “Oh I’m sure,” she said.  “But you might not be so eager after you see what I have planned.” From a pace behind Shinsou, Kaminari groaned.  “I can just tell, this isn’t going to be good.” Kirishima, who had just departed from Bakugou’s side, grinned at Kaminari.  “Hey, man, don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he grinned in his typically supportive way. Lock Box waved the class forward.  “Let’s hurry it up!” she called to the chattering group.  “Don’t be late!” “Late for what?” Ojiro asked fearfully as he and Kaminari rejoined Shinsou while Lock Box headed to the front doors of the training hall. Kaminari rubbed at his temples with a preemptive groan.  “I should have taken an aspirin before training, shouldn’t I?” “Oh, c’mon!” Kirishima said, throwing his arm around Kaminari’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze.  “It won’t be that bad!  We’re almost graduated!  What could Lock Box sensei possibly throw at us at this point?” Lock Box pushed the front door open and held the door as the class filed inside the training hall.  “Come on in,” she said, still smiling. Kaminari chuckled with Kirishima as they stepped into the training hall.  “You’re right,” he said, sounding deeply relieved.  “It’s not like they can really throw us for a loop at this point with a training that’s going to kill half of us.  We can definitely handle whatever Lock Box sensei is going to throw at us.” “I’m so glad you think that, Kaminari,” a familiar flat voice said. Kaminari froze, the cheerful look on his face stalling as he processed who had spoken, then he immediately fell into shock with the slightest touch of fear and awe on his features.  “Aizawa sensei!”  “Sensei!” Shinsou echoed in surprise as the class walked into the training hall. Aizawa was leaning against the wall of the training wall, looking utterly at home as if he had never left teaching their class in the first place with his arms crossed and his hair spilling over his shoulders as his dark eyes swept over the chattering students.  Shinsou almost laughed at the chorus of shouts that rang out in the training hall as Aizawa looked over the group, his face set in a bored expression and very much so looking like the indifferent and exhausted teacher he always seemed to be as he looked around the room. “Aizawa sensei!” Sero exclaimed in surprise while Koda squeaked in alarm and Satou stumbled back in surprise. “You’re back!” Jirou exclaimed. “Sensei!” Midoriya said excitedly, running forward to greet his teacher.  “Are you back from your mission?  Did everything go alright?  Did you catch the villain?” “Calm down, Midoriya,” Aizawa said flatly.  His dark eyes swept the room with his usual keen dispassion.  “I’m back temporarily," Aizawa said, using the same bored tone that he used whenever he was lecturing.  "Lock Box is still running your class until I return in an official capacity — ” "Did something happen?" Ojiro asked worriedly.  “Why are you not coming back to teach full time?” Ashido asked suspiciously. “We probably tired him out,” Bakugou muttered with a pleased smirk on his face. Aizawa sighed, looking like he suddenly very much was regretting returning to Heights Alliance, and Shinsou had to suppress a laugh.  Even though all of the other students were anxious and clamoring over each other with a million questions and concerns — and Aizawa was doing his very best to look annoyed — Shinsou could see the faintest brush of pink on Aizawa's cheeks, he noticed the way Aizawa's lips seem to curve in an almost imperceptible smile when his students pressed forward, and he noticed the way Aizawa's eyes were a severe black, the slight warmth in his flat tone, and the way his teacher's shoulders slumped down, not in exhaustion or discouragement but in genuine relaxation, as if being around his students was a comfort to him.  And Shinsou realized how much Aizawa had truly missed his class.  And — by extension — how much Aizawa truly must care for Shinsou, since Aizawa had been immediately willing to give up his students, if it meant even the slightest chance of helping Shinsou.  And while Shinsou had always known that, seeing proof of it only made something in Shinsou’s chest swell in warmth and fondness towards his teacher. The other students, however, were not as perceptive as Shinsou when it came to reading Aizawa and all collectively quieted down in minor apprehension when Aizawa sighed irritably at their questions, no doubt fearing that he would scold them for being illogical and emotional.   “He’s not wearing his uniform!” Hagakure whispered loudly to Uraraka while Uraraka made a soft squeak of alarm at the realization that Aizawa was wearing his civilian clothing — which was a rather rare sight for his students to see. “I’ve only seen Aizawa sensei out of uniform twice!” Midoriya whispered in a hushed, almost awed voice as he nodded in confirmation to the girls. Shinsou started at that, realizing for the first time that Aizawa was still in civilian clothing and not his typical hero costume.  And at Hagakure’s comment Shinsou suddenly realized that he hadn't actually seen Aizawa in his official Eraserhead uniform since the day he went to Aizawa’s apartment in an attempt to stop him from watching Silvertongue’s video.  To Shinsou’s knowledge, Aizawa hadn’t put it on since. And part of him had to wonder if Aizawa ever would again. “Alright, everyone, settle down!” Lock Box called out, gesturing to the class to be quiet while Aizawa looked around the room in a disingenuous expression of annoyance.  “So you’re here to — observe us?” Ojiro asked, almost hopefully as he looked up at his teacher.  “Right?” Aizawa’s lips twitched in a slightly sadistic smile.  “No,” he answered.  “I’ll be running your training today.” Kaminari whimpered in fear while the rest of the class groaned in preemptive pain of what was to come.     It was an impossibly long two hours. Almost unbearably long. For two solid hours, Aizawa put the entire class through their paces, making them run laps with weight, using their quirks almost to their breaking point, then teaming them up in three-on-three battles while then giving them whiplash and sending the three-on-three teams into a collision course until it became an entire battle royale with the entire class By the time the training session was over, the class was beyond exhausted: Kaminari was practically in tears, sending little jolts of electricity through his hair as he sniffled, shuffling forward weakly as he trailed after his classmates; Ojiro’s tail dragged on the ground as he walked; and Yaoyorozu mindlessly shoved mini cupcakes into her mouth that Satou kept numbly pulling from his belt. Even the top students of the class seemed half-dead: Midoriya was only able to shuffle towards the showers, his trademark grin absent from his features; Todoroki walked wearily, flecks of ice sparkling on his skin as his internal temperature desperately tried to fix itself from overuse; and even Bakugou was uncharacteristically silent as he trudged away from the training hall, his strong shoulders slumped. “Shinsou,” Aizawa called out, still watching the exhausted and battered class trudge out of the training room.  “A word, please.” Shinsou blinked.  Right now?  He swallowed down a curse, his entire body aching in protest.  Even Kaminari didn’t have the energy to waggle his eyebrows at Shinsou, although Ashido managed a tired grin as she trudged away wearily. “Sensei?” Shinsou said, shuffling over to where Aizawa stood.  It almost felt like the way things were before: Aizawa standing off to the side, his tall frame slightly slouched as he jammed his hands in his pockets, surveying the class with a bored expression.  The only thing that was different was that he was no longer wearing his hero uniform and instead was wearing what looked like gym clothes, although the long pants and long-sleeved tshirt were dark and essentially didn’t alter his look too drastically.  “You look worse for wear,” Aizawa observed with more amusement than pity in his voice. “And whose fault is that?” Shinsou grumbled.  It had been weeks since he had had a proper training session and Aizawa running him ragged around the gym certainly hadn’t helped things. Aizawa hummed and cocked his head towards the door, making his way towards it without another word while Shinsou repressed a groan and did his best to follow him. Shinsou winced.  “I can barely walk, you know,” he grumbled as he hobbled after Aizawa. Aizawa gave a slight smile to Shinsou.  “You’ll survive,” he said dryly, heading out the door in the direction of the teachers’ dorms. Shinsou winced.  “Is this really necessary?” he grumbled as he hobbled after Aizawa, every cell in his body currently regretting his decision to become a Pro Hero. “You’ll be fine,” Aizawa said airily, stubbornly going to the stairwell instead of the elevator just because he was a bastard enough to let Shinsou suffer just a little more. Shinsou groaned but continued to limp after his teacher with a huff. After climbing four floors of stairs — which took Shinsou longer than he cared to admit — Aizawa finally fished his keys out of his pockets and worked on unlocking the stairwell door while Shinsou leaned heavily against the wall of the landing, struggling to catch his breath. “What’s on this floor?” he asked, unable to stop the dread he was feeling from coloring his voice.  He knew Aizawa loved to push them to their limits — and as much as he appreciated the push — Shinsou didn’t think he had any more energy for anything else today. Aizawa grinned at the apprehensive note in Shinsou’s voice and pushed open the stairwell door.  “You’ll see,” he said, gesturing for Shinsou to follow.   When Shinsou stumbled slightly — his traitorous legs almost giving out from the strain of standing — Aizawa caught him and helped him through the door without a word. Beyond the stairwell, Shinsou found himself standing in a small hallway with what looked like men's and women's locker rooms on either side of two large wooden doors. Shinsou stopped short.  “More training?” he whispered fearfully, eyeing the large doors as the stairwell door shut behind them with a thud. “No,” Aizawa said simply before making his way to the large doors at the end of the hallway. Shinsou hesitated, unsure if he should believe Aizawa, then sighed and obediently hobbled forward after Aizawa. Aizawa wordlessly flipped through his key ring until he found the right key, ignoring Shinsou’s apprehensive stare.  Once he fit it into the lock, he pushed the door open that was on the side of the hallway with the men’s locker room and let Shinsou through. “Whoa,” Shinsou breathed, looking around in amazement.  Tucked on the fourth floor of the teachers’ dorms was — much to Shinsou’s surprise — an entire room made to look like a traditional sentō. Wood panels and shoji doors lined a small entryway genkan, with little cubbies and shoe lockers along the walls.  Past that, Shinsou could see a blue curtain pushed to the side for the changing room and beyond that was an enormous bathroom.  The room had a wooden ceiling with soft golden lights glowing and a tiled floor set in an intricate blue and white pattern.  Adorning the walls were gold faucets with wooden stools in front of them and in the back of the room was a huge stone tub filled with steaming water, with an enormous tiled wall depicting a garden scene with blossoming trees and Mount Fuji in the distance behind it. Aizawa grinned slightly at Shinsou’s reaction.  “Weren’t expecting this, were you?” Shinsou looked around, openly staring.  “This has been here the entire time?” he whispered, his eyes drinking in the tiled floor, the steaming water, and the warm lantern-like lights.  “Without anyone knowing about it?” Aizawa hummed.  “It’s not like you have any reason to know it exists.  It’s for the teachers.”  When Shinsou looked up, Aizawa rolled his eyes.  “Do you think Nezu convinced a bunch of adults to give up their apartments and move onto a high school campus just because it was an easier commute?  He had to sweeten the pot with perks.”  He gestured around the room.  “And this is one of them.” Shinsou let out a low whistle.  “Well, I guess he did a pretty solid job, then.” “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to,” Aizawa said.  “But I figured after the drills you ran today, you might want this to ease up.  And this is certainly far more relaxing than the baths in the student dorms.”  He hesitated, suddenly looking uncertain.  “I booked the room, so no one will come in here while you’re here — ” Shinsou immediately understood Aizawa’s sudden and uncharacteristic hesitance: he was worried that giving Shinsou a place to have a soak was essentially another instance of Aizawa forcing Shinsou to linger naked in a room.  But Shinsou didn’t make that connection at all.  He was far too focused on the steaming water, the smooth, paneled walls, and the soft glowing light all beckoning his tired body into what looked like the most soothing soak in the world. “No, this is perfect,” Shinsou said quickly.  “And — don’t worry.  With Lock Box’s quirk — it doesn't even bother me at all.” “It doesn’t?”  Aizawa looked doubtful. Shinsou tilted his head, considering.  “Nope,” he said after a moment and he meant it.  The thought of taking his clothes off in a public place — a place where adult teachers could enter — didn’t make him feel even remotely skittish, which was a far cry from what had happened the last time he had taken a shower at Aizawa’s apartment.  “I feel fine.  And comfortable.”  He eyed the water.  “And I really, really want to jump in the water.” Aizawa sighed.  “Do not jump in the water,” he said, sounding exhausted while Shinsou grinned at him.  “Alright, the towels are over there and there’s some spare shoes and clothes to change into if you need them.” “I have my bag,” Shinsou said, lifting up his gym back with his clean clothes in there. Aizawa nodded.  “You have an hour, so take as long as you need.  And — ” he hesitated, then handed Shinsou a small water bottle with a slightly tormented look on his face.  “Here.” Shinsou took the bottle.  “Uh — thanks?” he said but the look on Aizawa’s face made him wonder what it was.  “Is this — not water?” “It is.  But — ”  He sighed.  “Nezu has a friend. They’re working with some people to imbue quirks into food and things like that.  This is water that was imbued with a healing quirk.” Shinsou’s brows raised almost up to his hairline.  “This is magical healing water?” he gasped, genuinely surprised that such a thing existed. Aizawa rolled his eyes.  “No,” he said flatly.  “The experiment didn’t work.  But they did discover that while it can’t regrow limbs or heal shattered bones or whatever they were hoping for, it does take care of bumps and bruises and sore muscles.  And according to Hizashi, cures hangovers.”  He shrugged.  “From what I heard they’re giving it to athletes and things like that.  It won’t work miracles, but you should be able to walk after this.” “Really?” Shinsou eyed the bottle, swirling the water in it critically.  “It can do that?” “I’m guaranteeing nothing,” Aizawa said, sounding almost annoyed by Shinsou’s fascination with the water.  “It will basically be like if you took some ibuprofen and rested for a few hours.  That’s how you’ll feel after drinking it.  It won’t just magically fix your soreness.  It just will help speed things along a bit.” “But,” Shinsou blinked, still staring at the unmarked bottle in his hands.  “Why would you give this to me?  Wouldn’t it be better suited for you or for — emergencies or something?” “As I said,” Aizawa’s voice sharpened, as if he realized Shinsou had caught him doing something kind and altruistic and he was trying to deflect, “it doesn’t do anything useful, or I would keep it for emergencies.  This isn’t the old lady’s quirk.  It will just help your muscles not be so sore.” Shinsou frowned, looking up from the water bottle to Aizawa.  “Why now?  Why not wait until after patrol when I fall off a roof or something?” “Because it’s my fault you’re in so much pain,” Aizawa said, almost too quickly and too harshly.  He froze as soon as he spoke, then sighed.  “If it wasn’t for — what I did — you would have been in training this entire time and you wouldn't be in pain now.  You’re suffering because you were pulled from training for four months.  It’s my fault you’re limping now.” Shinsou’s expression softened.  “Sensei, you know I’d be in pain regardless, right?  Your trainings are always brutal, no matter what shape I’m in.” “Shinsou, just drink the damn water,” Aizawa said softly, looking down at his watch like he didn’t care.  Shinsou knew otherwise.  And so Shinsou twisted open the cap and drank the small water bottle down.  He frowned at the bottle after he finished it.  “I thought it would taste like something,” he mused. Aizawa sighed and ignored him.  “I’ll text you to remind you when your hour’s up,” Aizawa said, still not really looking at Shinsou.  “Once you’re done, you’re more than welcome to head back to the dorms.  But you’re also more than welcome to stop by my apartment, if you want.  The door will be open.” Shinsou gave a smile.  “Then I’ll stop by.” Aizawa nodded and turned to leave the bath.  With his hand on the door, he hesitated.  “And Shinsou?” “Hmm?” Aizawa looked up at him blandly.  “Please do not plan on falling off a roof anytime soon.” Shinsou grinned.  “Noted.”     Shinsou left the fourth floor bath an hour later feeling blessedly refreshed. His aching joints had been soothed, his grimy, sweat-streaked skin was now fresh and clean, and he felt utterly rejuvenated, like life had been breathed back into him again. After he changed into his fresh clothes and now gloriously clean, Shinsou felt content as he rode the elevator up to Aizawa’s floor without a single bit of hesitation about visiting his former teacher.  Their talk the night before had calmed the swirling uncertainty in his chest when it came to their relationship and what direction they were going to head in.  Everything about Lock Box’s quirk and the upcoming physical component was still confusing for Shinsou, but his talk with Aizawa had at least soothed some of his anxieties.  For now, he knew they just needed to focus on the emotional component and getting closer to Aizawa was something that Shinsou was both familiar with and comfortable doing. It felt nice to have a day with his friends, a brutal training, a relaxing soak afterwards, and then an evening to relax and talk to Aizawa.  It felt almost like a routine.  Like they were establishing a pattern of being together.  And Shinsou couldn’t help but like how mature it all felt.  And how comforting it was to have. “Hey, sensei,” Shinsou greeted as he stepped into Aizawa’s apartment. Aizawa, who had been resting on the couch looking over what appeared to be a pile of papers, glanced up at Shinsou entered his apartment.  “How’re you feeling?” “Great,” Shinsou grinned, slipping his shoes off.  “I don’t know if it was the magical healing water or the magical healing bath, but something definitely did the trick.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, gesturing with his red pen towards the kitchen.  “There’s coffee in the pot,” he said as Shinsou made his way over to the counter, their familiar routine taking shape with ease.  “And stop calling it magical.  There was nothing magical about it.” Shinsou laughed as he grabbed the spare mug Aizawa had left out for him.  “Would you rather me go full Midoriya and go with an unhinged analysis?” Aizawa groaned in mock protest.  “Why did I invite you here again?” “Bonding,” Shinsou supplied, as he poured himself a cup of coffee.  “That’s what we’re supposed to be doing, right?” Aizawa grunted.  “Something like that,” he said, tossing the paper he was looking at facedown on the coffee table as Shinsou came around and eased himself onto his usual side of the couch.  “You look better,” he said with a slightly raised brow. Shinsou snorted into his cup.  “What?  Are you mad I’m not still limping around?” “I didn’t push your class that hard,” Aizawa retorted.  “If you’re all struggling that much after one round of training, then maybe I need to speak to Lock Box about increasing the intensity of your classes — ” “Sensei!” Aizawa allowed himself a slight grin.  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head, still looking amused.  “It’s just been a while since I’ve run a training.” Shinsou grinned, settling back against the couch.  “So, how did it feel being back?” Aizawa ducked his head into his coffee cup — Shinsou assumed to hide a fond grin — and took a drink before he looked up at Shinsou again, his face carefully blank.  “I certainly had missed it,” he admitted softly. “I know,” Shinsou said warmly.  “And we missed you, too.  Well — maybe a little less now that you basically tried to kill us.” “I did not,” Aizawa snorted. “You kinda did.” “You all survived.” “Barely.” “It’s good preparation for after you graduate.” Shinsou rolled his eyes.  “If my patrols are like that every night, then I’m just going to quit now.” Aizawa grinned roughly.  “It was good to see everyone again,” he mused thoughtfully as he sank back into his couch cushion, still cradling his coffee cup.  He glanced at Shinsou.  “And it was good to see you with all of your classmates.” Shinsou nodded, taking a drink of his coffee.  “Things have been better with them lately.” Aizawa raised a brow.  “Oh?” Shinsou shrugged.  “Yeah.  It’s just — it’s good to have friends.  Not just friends — I know that I can trust everyone in my class.  They’re all good people and I know they’re going to be good heroes.  But it’s like for the first time, I have good friends — people I can really trust.  I’m — I’m not really used to that.” A faint smile twitched on Aizawa’s lips and he took another long drink of coffee to mask it.  “You deserve that,” he said softly.  “I don’t know what I’d do without Hizashi and Nemuri.”  He tilted his head at Shinsou, his dark eyes filled with warmth.  “I’m glad you have people like that, too.” Shinsou nodded.  “Well, I for one, am happy that you have them.  You deserve to have good friends, too.” Aizawa let out a melodramatic huff.  “I make due with them the best I can,” he said with a slightly wicked grin. “Oh, c’mon,” Shinsou laughed.  “You always act like they’re terrible.  They’re not that bad, you know.” “No,” Aizawa said with a fond chuckle.  “They’re not.” Shinsou smiled, draining his mug with a faint grin.  He liked that he and Aizawa were able to engage in banter like this, he liked that Aizawa acknowledged that Shinsou understood the relationship Aizawa had with his friends, and he liked that Aizawa recognized that Shinsou had close friendships of his own.   “More?” Aizawa grunted as he eyed Shinsou’s now-empty coffee mug. Shinsou hummed, happy that Aizawa understood his endless need for coffee without him needing to say a word. Aizawa took both of their empty mugs and made his way back to the kitchen to get more coffee while Shinsou leaned back against the couch, breathing deeply in contentment.  Despite the looming uncertainty of the upcoming physical component, Shinsou was at least happy that they were definitely making strides with the emotional component of the quirk. Shinsou was peacefully dozing on the couch, listening to Aizawa bustle around the kitchen,  when Aizawa’s phone suddenly buzzed from where he had left it on the coffee table, jarring Shinsou into alertness. Much like his own phone, Shinsou frowned at the disruption and ignored the sound, continuing to bask in the quiet comfort of Aizawa’s living room while listening to the sounds of Aizawa move around the kitchen. Until Aizawa’s phone buzzed again. Shinsou glanced up with a slight frown.  It was probably nothing.  Plus, Aizawa was coming back in less than a minute, so if it was urgent, he’d see it soon enough. And then the phone buzzed again. Shinsou sat up from the couch, his interest finally piqued.  Aizawa wasn’t much of a texter so it was odd that he was getting three texts in a row.  Granted, it was probably Present Mic texting him something stupid or Midnight annoying him about making plans, or something related to hero work or to Eri or to — literally any other countless number of potential things — all of which were none of his business. And while it was stupid, this was the crux of his problem with Aizawa: no matter how close they grew, it was never close enough.  Shinsou was always stymied by that last wall, the last barrier, the last locked door that Aizawa hid his secrets behind.  And since Aizawa was still terrible at opening up, Shinsou had to take every opportunity that was presented to him to get to know a little bit more about his teacher.   Even if it meant glancing at a phone screen. Besides, while Aizawa might be in the next room over, he had left his phone out — screen up — on the table.   Shinsou nearly shook his head at how stupid he was being — it was a text message.  It was probably nothing.  It was probably just a cat meme.  It was probably just — Shinsou shoved his thoughts aside and quietly leaned over from his seat on the couch, his eyes locked on the phone on the coffee table, and tapped at the screen of Aizawa’s phone so it would light up again.   The lock screen appeared — with an image of Eri holding a cat in the background — as well as the phone’s unread notifications.   There was a text from Mic from a good three hours ago, along with a calendar reminder and a news notification — both of which Shinsou assumed Mic or Midnight had set up on Aizawa’s phone and Aizawa had been too lazy or confounded by the process to turn them off — but there were also the three newest texts, all on display on the screen for Shinsou to read. Emi: LOL since when are you so needy?? Emi: You know I’d do anything for you <3  Emi: My place or yours? Shinsou swallowed hard.  Emi?  Who the hell was Emi?  And then Shinsou suddenly realized with a ice cold rush of horror in his veins: Ms. Joke.  For years, there had been rumors.  For years, Shinsou had ignored them all, dismissing it as ludicrous that someone like Aizawa would date someone like Ms. Joke.  And, if Shinsou were being perfectly honest, he also failed to see Aizawa dating anyone at all, least of all a woman as unnaturally jolly and loud as Ms. Joke.  But, then again, perhaps all the raised eyebrows that had gone around the room as the girls giggled in delight at the prospect whenever Ms. Joke’s name was brought up (with Aizawa only huffing in response) — maybe it did mean something? Maybe the girls were right?   Maybe Aizawa was actually dating Ms. Joke? Shinsou sank back onto the couch in a daze.  How could he have been so stupid?  So childish?  So fucking stupid? He hadn’t even bothered to ask if Aizawa was seeing anyone or if he was in any sort of relationship at all.  Shinsou wouldn’t have known, since that was private information and Aizawa was so careful to never reveal anything personal about himself to his students at any time.  And Shinsou had foolishly and conveniently forgotten about all the rumors and teasing about Aizawa and Ms. Joke being an item — or at least having a thing — while dealing with the Silvertongue fallout.   But now, Shinsou had to wonder: what if he were wrong? Shinsou’s stomach turned at the thought of that.  The very thought of Aizawa spending all night patrolling the dark streets of Musutafu with an iron will and a rigid sense of justice, then rushing to class to lecture flatly at his class of students in his bored drawl, trying to teach his students the most important lessons of their lives while also ensuring that they didn’t end up killing each other — with the stoic patience of a saint — to then spend time after school training the hapless Shinsou, and finally rush home to sweep this woman into his arms? Shinsou ground his teeth angrily.  So all the little pieces of Aizawa he had painstakingly collected over the last few years were just offered out of pity?  Every little smile Shinsou wrung from Aizawa, every tiny morsel of information that he had carefully collected and assembled into the larger mosaic of the man, every moment Shinsou felt they were growing closer — it was all a lie? And perhaps that was unfair.  Aizawa could be dating someone and still get close to Shinsou.  It was a perfectly reasonable and normal state of affairs.  But to have Shinsou covet every bit of praise from Aizawa?  To feel proud at guessing something as stupid as his favorite color?  To keep his goddamn sweater in his armoire like a personal talisman?  Shinsou had thought he was one of the only people who was growing close to Aizawa like this, he had thought it meant something.  Not just to him, but to Aizawa as well.  And now to find out that the entire time there was a woman who probably knew Aizawa’s favorite color and food and favorite fucking brand of toothpaste?  And who had access to an entire closet of Aizawa’s sweaters?   It made Shinsou feel childish. It made him feel pathetic. How could he have been so stupid? And worse — far, far worse — was the fact that Shinsou had apparently not even thought to investigate or inquire about Aizawa’s sexuality.  The entire time they had been discussing Lock Box’s plan, it hadn’t once come up. Not once. So Aizawa was dating a woman?  Which meant he was probably straight.  Aizawa probably came home from work to join his girlfriend and his daughter in a perfect little nuclear family, never once even thinking about Shinsou in any way but platonically and probably sick to his stomach at the thought of having to touch Shinsou again.  Shinsou was disgusting for ever wanting such a thing. Shinsou curled himself into a small huddle on the couch, trying not to cry or scream, even though he suddenly wanted to do both.  After the Silvertongue incident, Shinsou’s entire life had revolved around trying to protect Aizawa from the truth because he cared deeply and profoundly for Aizawa.  And once Aizawa learned the truth of what had happened, Shinsou’s life became about trying to repair their relationship to restore it to where it once was: with the two of them emotionally and platonically close as mentor and mentee, as potential friends.  And it was only after Shinsou was told about Lock Box’s quirk therapy that he began to really think about what his relationship with Aizawa meant — and where he wanted it to go.   And Shinsou had then become so wrapped up in figuring out not only how to preserve his relationship with Aizawa for after the quirk wore off, but also how he was going to deal with and survive the physical component of Lock Box’s quirk, that he hadn’t really stopped to think about how Aizawa might be handling things. He had, of course, given some thought about how Lock Box’s quirk would affect Aizawa.  He had thought about how Aizawa was being forced to relive the worst night of his life (despite not having any direct memories of it) and how Aizawa was reenacting a traumatic event that could potentially result in him getting fired and destroying his life, all for the sake of Shinsou and his future.  And Shinsou had certainly fixated on Aizawa having to deal with sleeping with him, despite probably not finding Shinsou attractive. But Shinsou had failed to even once begin to consider that Aizawa might not be attracted to Shinsou because Shinsou was Shinsou; and that perhaps Aizawa was not attracted to Shinsou because Aizawa was attracted to women.   He hadn’t even thought about it.   Shinsou swallowed hard, trying to think if he had any indication that Aizawa was even interested in men in the first place.  And of course, Aizawa was so private that Shinsou had no idea.  Some part of him had assumed that Aizawa had known what he was doing that awful night because he had experience with men — but no part of that night was fair to judge any part of Aizawa’s character on.  Which meant that Shinsou actually had no idea about Aizawa’s preferences. The orders that Silvertongue had given Aizawa rang hollowly through Shinsou’s head: ‘you are now deeply and utterly filled with an overwhelming lust toward Shinsou Hitoshi… You feel only the need to sate yourself and use your student as an instrument of pleasure until you are completely spent.’ Shinsou blinked, trying hard not to choke at the sudden realization that Aizawa had been filled with lust towards Shinsou because he had been commanded to be aroused.  Not because there was any part of him that wanted Shinsou in that way.      And the entire time they had been planning to engage in the physical component of Lock Box’s quirk, Aizawa — the altruistic, self-sacrificing asshole that he was — hadn’t said a word to Shinsou or anyone else about what sleeping with Shinsou would emotionally do to him. Because why would he?  Lock Box’s quirk meant that they needed to reenact what happened.  That they physically needed to sleep together.  Which meant that their sexual preferences didn’t matter.  Aizawa had been brainwashed into having sex with Shinsou.  And Shinsou had no choice in it.  So when they discussed the physical component of Lock Box’s plan, their actual wants and desires hadn't even been a factor.  Because it wasn’t before.  So it wasn’t now. So maybe Aizawa was straight.  Maybe he thought Shinsou was, too?  Maybe Aizawa thought Shinsou’s crush and desperation for his approval was actually just like Midoriya’s love and obsession with All Might: born out of intense admiration, hero adoration, and platonic love. Shinsou closed his eyes, trying to will himself not to cry. And of course Aizawa had agreed to do this.  He truly didn’t want to, but he would do it for Shinsou.  He nearly died for his students before.  He had no issue sacrificing this part of himself, too, apparently.   And Shinsou had felt guilty because a part of him wanted it.  A little bit.  Some part of him was curious.  Some part of him craved that closeness.  But now that he knew that Aizawa was only doing it out of pity made him want to vomit.  Because it was wrong.  It was all horribly, horribly wrong.  And it was even worse that Shinsou was forcing Aizawa into this mess. He felt sick.  He felt angry.  He felt lost. What was he supposed to do? “Shinsou?” Aizawa’s voice broke into Shinsou’s thoughts, startling him out of his spiral of despair.  He looked up in alarm to find Aizawa watching him from the doorway of the kitchen holding two cups of coffee in his hands and frowning in concern.  “Are you alright?” Aizawa asked as he set the mugs down on the coffee table. Shinsou nodded dumbly, his thoughts still whirring in his head.  “I’m fine,” he whispered. Aizawa’s eyes widened slightly and he immediately sank into the seat next to Shinsou — careful to keep a space between them, as he always did.  Was it because he was trying to be respectful of Shinsou’s space and trying not to trigger him again, or was it because he was a straight man who was currently dating a woman? Shinsou cringed at the thought. “Shinsou?” Aizawa asked softly, his dark eyes softening in concern to the deep, stormy gray color that always made something ache in Shinsou’s chest. Not anymore, Shinsou told himself fiercely.  “I’m fine, sensei,” Shinsou said softly, still trying to work out what to say with Ms. Joke’s text messages branded into his mind.  It was fine .  Aizawa was an adult.  He was allowed to have relationships and dalliances and fun and whatever else he could call it.  Aizawa was allowed to go home to Ms. Joke and laugh and kiss her and tell her all his secrets and have sex with her like a normal, functional adult while Shinsou would just be left alone with his sexual dysfunctions, fear of relationships, and general distrust of people.   Shinsou wasn’t hurt at all.  It was fine.   Everything was fine. “Shinsou,” Aizawa said quietly and Shinsou could hear the concern and the confusion in his voice.  “You don’t seem alright.  Did — did something happen?” “Sorry,” Shinsou managed.  “It’s nothing.  I just — ”  Aizawa still looked startled by Shinsou’s sudden change in demeanor.  “You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly.  “You just — look upset.  And I — ” “Will you be okay?” Shinsou whispered, unable to help himself.  He turned, finally looking up at his teacher.  “If we — if we do this — if we go through with it — will you be okay?” Aizawa blinked, looking a little surprised at the question.  He swallowed and looked away, a strange emotion in the depths of his gaze.  “What do you mean — will I be okay?” he finally asked after a long moment had passed. Shinsou shook his head.  “All of this — the focus is always on me and if I’m comfortable and if I’m okay with things.  No one has really asked about you.  And — I,” Shinsou faltered, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts, “I just don’t want doing this to affect your life.”   Aizawa frowned, a look Shinsou couldn’t quite discern darkened his expression before he smoothed it out again.  “Where is this coming from, Shinsou?” Shinsou said quietly.  “I just — I just don’t want to force you or make you do something that makes you uncomfortable — ” Aizawa frowned, clearly uncertain what prompted the conversation.  “Shinsou,” he said slowly, his brow knit, “you’re not forcing me — ” “Fine,” Shinsou huffed, already tired of circling around the issue.  He had no idea how to bring up that proceeding with the physical component would cause a rift in Aizawa’s relationship with Emi.  He had no idea how to ask Aizawa about his sexual preferences and if sleeping with Shinsou was going to cause some sort of mental breakdown.  And he had absolutely no idea how to voice the grief and betrayal at suddenly discovering that the man that Shinsou had known for years and who had slowly grown to encapsulate Shinsou’s affections didn’t return them at all.  “You said we should be honest with each other, right?” “Yes.” “Then — then I want to know if — doing this — if it’s going to mess you up.” Aizawa blinked.  “Mess me up?” he repeated. Shinsou let out a slow breath.  “I mean — if doing this is going to — have a negative affect on your mental health.” Aizawa stared at Shinsou.  He seemed to know that Shinsou wasn’t exactly saying what he meant but at the same time, Aizawa didn’t seem to quite understand what Shinsou was trying to uncover.  Aizawa folded his hands in his lap.  “Whatever you’re worried about,” he said finally.  “Don’t be.  You don’t need to worry about me.  I’ll be fine.” Shinsou nodded, swallowing thickly as he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.   Aizawa really was doing all of this to help Shinsou, even at the expense of Aizawa’s own mental well being.  Aizawa’s kindness and willingness to engage in the physical component had nothing to do with some love for Shinsou.  It was about his guilt.  And his willingness to throw his life away on the chance it would help a student.  That was all. “Would you tell me — if you weren’t?” “Shinsou,” Aizawa said softly.  “What’s going on?  What brought this up all of a sudden?” Shinsou lifted his chin, trying to keep his expression calm even though his heart was beating wildly in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to cry at what felt like a loss.  But he knew that was foolish — he never had Aizawa in the first place.   “I was just thinking,” Shinsou said, keeping his voice steady, “about how I want you to know that I feel guilty for making you do this.  And I feel like you’re resisting doing — any of this — because you don’t want to.  And that you’re only doing this out of guilt over what happened.” Aizawa blinked.  “Shinsou — Shinsou, I’m not resisting,” he said, his typically flat voice coloring with an emotion Shinsou couldn’t place.  “I’m just trying to be cognizant of your feelings and of what you’ve been through.  I have to take that into consideration.  Not to mention — ” “I know,” Shinsou cut him off.  “We’ve been through this a thousand times before.  I don’t need to hear it again about how you need to be careful because you’re my teacher and because I’ve been traumatized and how this is horribly illegal.  I know.  We’ve been over it.” Aizawa pressed his lips into a thin line.  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice so carefully delicate that Shinsou wanted to scream.  “I know this isn’t — ” Shinsou groaned loudly, cutting Aizawa off.  “Will you just stop that?” he snarled in annoyance, Aizawa’s endless stream of apologies filling his head with a mocking echo. Aizawa faltered and looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes dazed with worry, as if he thought that Shinsou was somehow once again offended by whatever he had said or done or not said or any of the other litany of reasons why. Shinsou shook his head.  “Just — stop saying that you’re sorry that I have to do this.  Stop making it sound like sleeping with you is torture.” “Shinsou,” Aizawa said carefully, “you were tortured by being forced to sleep with me — ” “No, I wasn’t!”  Shinsou closed his eyes.  He couldn’t even be grateful that Aizawa at least wasn’t calling it rape this time.  “Don’t you get it?  Having sex with you wasn’t the torture!” Aizawa stared at him suddenly confused. “It was having sex with you and knowing that you didn’t have a say in it,” Shinsou hissed miserably.  “And now — when you act like this — it’s like it’s happening all over again.  But instead of Silvertongue forcing you, you’re forcing yourself.”  Shinsou stared at Aizawa angrily.  “Do you really think that’s what I want?  Have you ever even stopped to ask me what it is that I want?”   Aizawa stared at him.  “Shinsou — ” he murmured quietly, utterly at a loss. “No,” Shinsou pushed past the wretched look on Aizawa’s face.  “You were too busy assuming that even being near you was torture for me.  And instead, you’ve just been making it worse by apologizing over and over again.  Like being close to you is so unbearable.  Like you being close to me is some sort of — abomination.  Like I — ” He stopped short, his voice caught in his throat.   “Shinsou,” Aizawa said carefully.  “I don’t mean to overwhelm you with apologies.  I just — I don’t know what else to say.  And I don’t want to make things worse.” Shinsou snorted.  “You don’t want to make things worse?” he asked roughly.  “Then how about you actually be honest with me for once.” “Honest about what?” “If you actually want to do this.” “If I — if I want to have sex with a student whom I brutalized and attacked?” Aizawa repeated numbly.  He looked almost angry at the very thought.  “Of course I don’t want to do this!  Why would I ever — ” He froze, suddenly catching the expression on Shinsou’s face.  “Shinsou, no, that’s — that’s not what I meant — ” Shinsou shrugged, trying to smooth his face into his typical expression of vague indifference, but the damage was already done.  “It’s alright,” he said casually as if he weren’t actually hurt by his teacher sounding absolutely repulsed by the notion of being intimate with him.  Of course the thought of having sex with Shinsou repulsed Aizawa.  He should have known that all along and he was a fool for only just now figuring it out.  “I don’t blame you.” “Shinsou, no.”   Aizawa looked flustered and upset, his voice low and hoarse as he rushed to get the words out.  “I — what I was trying to say is that I don’t want to do this because I just don’t want to make things worse.  I’m not — good at these sorts of things.  And I — I couldn’t bear it if you somehow ended up in a worse state because of what I did.  I — I just don’t want to make everything worse.”  Shinsou shrugged, still staring off at a spot on the wall and trying not to lash out any more than he already had.  Everything about having to sleep with Shinsou probably made Aizawa want to recoil in disgust and yet, Aizawa was pushing through his revulsion for Shinsou’s sake.  And Shinsou didn’t want Aizawa to do that. Shinsou looked up at Aizawa.  “I don’t think any of this could get worse,” he admitted softly.  “For me, at least.  That’s why I thought I could do this.  But — when I realized how much it’s going to mess you up — it’s not worth it to me if it does.” The entire reason he had lied and kept quiet about the truth of what happened to Silvertongue was to protect Aizawa and to spare him from the trauma of knowing what happened.  And now that Shinsou realized that Aizawa being forced to sleep with Shinsou wasn’t just uncomfortable from a moral standpoint for Aizawa — but that it would also be a traumatic violation of Aizawa’s preferences — Shinsou suddenly realized that having Aizawa go through with the physical component was simply no longer a viable option.  Just as Aizawa cared about Shinsou so much that he was willing to go through with the physical component for Shinsou’s sake, so too was Shinsou willing to not go through with the physical component, if it meant sparing Aizawa further suffering. “Shinsou,” Aizawa protested softly, “I know it’s not ideal.  And I can’t say it won’t have an affect on me, but — but I can do this.  You don’t need to take my feelings into consideration about this, alright?”  Shinsou suddenly felt like he wanted to throw up.  Aizawa once again was trying to push his own needs and feelings aside for Shinsou’s sake.  And Shinsou refused to be the cause of more trauma for Aizawa.  “No,” Shinsou muttered, pushing himself to his feet abruptly.  “Just — forget it.”  Aizawa stood up as well, looking startled.  “Shinsou!” he said weakly. “No,” Shinsou said again, pulling his bag over his shoulder angrily as he headed towards the door.  “I told you that I wasn’t going to do this if this hurt you and clearly this is going to hurt you.  So it’s not worth it to me.” “Shinsou, this is not going to hurt me,” Aizawa said firmly. Shinsou stared at Aizawa, wishing he could believe him.  But he knew it was a lie.   Shinsou turned away and grabbed his shoes from the genkan. “Shinsou, wait!” “No,” Shinsou said sharply as he jammed his feet into his shoes.  “This is my choice, sensei.  It’s my life.  And if doing the physical component is going to fuck you up, then we’re not going to do it.  So we’re done.” “Shinsou, I said I’d be fine — ” “Stop lying to me!” Shinsou snapped.  He wanted to lash out and yell about the text messages and tell Aizawa he knew he was dating someone.  He wanted to remind Aizawa that he made a commitment to his partner and to Eri.  That Aizawa had to stop throwing his life away only because he felt guilty over what he did to Shinsou. Aizawa looked dazed at Shinsou’s sudden turnabout.  “I don’t understand — what — ” Shinsou wished there was a way for him to vocalize how hurt he was over the fact that he never had a chance with Aizawa in the first place.  That for all his pining and hoping that their relationship would continue to develop and grow into something more, that it was all futile.  It wasn’t Aizawa’s fault that he would never love Shinsou the way Shinsou wanted him to.   Aizawa opened his mouth, his eyes wide, but he seemed unable to speak.  He looked lost and confused and even a little hurt, but Shinsou didn’t care.  Aizawa had lied to him and Shinsou was done letting Aizawa’s guilt control both of their lives. “I’m not going to do this if it hurts you,” Shinsou said firmly, well aware that refusing to proceed with the physical component would likely result in him failing to get his hero license back.  He knew that he was making a decision that would most likely result in him not being able to become a hero.  But how could he ever be a hero if he used, sacrificed, and then discarded all of the people who had helped him along the way?  A true hero wouldn’t do that. And with or without his license, Shinsou at the very least knew how to act like a hero.  And he knew that destroying Aizawa’s life just to help himself was not heroic in the slightest. “I’m sorry, sensei,” Shinsou said, his voice softening.  “I’m sorry for all the time you spent training me and for all the grief that I’ve brought you, but — I can’t go through with the physical component.  I won’t do it.”   “Shinsou!” Aizawa exclaimed quietly.  “If we don’t do the physical component, then most likely you won’t — ” “I know,” Shinsou said softly, trying to ignore the tears stinging in his eyes.  He knew he was doing the right thing by turning Aizawa away, even if it meant Shinsou losing a chance at getting his license back and becoming a hero. “Shinsou, I know that this is hard,” Aizawa tried again.  “I know that you don’t want to do this, but — Shinsou, being a hero is your dream.  You can’t give up on that.” Shinsou swallowed thickly.  “I’m not,” he said quietly.  “We can — we can still try the emotional component.  There’s still a chance that it might work.” “Shinsou — ” Aizawa said again, his voice soft and confused and hurt. “Good night, sensei,” Shinsou said stiffly. Shinsou didn’t turn around at Aizawa calling his name.   He didn’t stop, he didn’t try to pretend to listen or like he wanted to hear Aizawa’s excuses or his pleas.  Shinsou knew he needed to leave, he needed to not be swayed by Aizawa’s arguments, he needed to let Aizawa go so he didn’t ruin his life all over again. Shinsou left the apartment and headed back to the dorms, trying to blink past his tears.  

When Buggy first laid eyes on Crocodile, he was in shock. Part of it was fear, but another part of him was addled by the fact that the ex-Warlord was the perfect example of all of Buggy’s deep—rooted fantasies brought to life, wrapped up in a sophisticated and handsome package. Style, luxury, power. The man encapsulated everything Buggy found desirable. This did not go unnoticed by Galdino, who warned Buggy not to make things even more awkward between him and his old boss. “Is it the heavy make—up he’s not into?” Buggy asked. “No, he hates worthless people.” Well, damn. There’s nothing Buggy can do about that.         The first real moment of self—discovery comes after Buggy finds an unopened crate stocked full of jewelry meant for some kind of high—end deal, just by sheer luck. That night, to celebrate his personal victory, he put on all the wearable treasures and jewelry and lied around like a king. Drinking a little booze and coasting on this high. He felt up the gems, the precious metals, and one thing led to another, and before he knew it, in a fit of ecstasy, he was lying breathless on his bed after the best jacking off session he’s had since he was a hormonal teenager. Then it happens again and again. It becomes a regular nightly activity for him to strip down and put on all his finest treasures, rubbing it all over himself and getting off on it. He knew he was a greedy, treasure loving pirate, but even he didn’t expect he’d be this depraved about it. He decides no one can ever know about this. His pride and reputation couldn’t allow for such a thing. He’s a fearsome pirate, not an insatiable degenerate. At the very least, it’s a secret that’ll die between him and the ocean.   Now that he’s in the New World, Buggy has found himself running into Shanks more often.  They have an…understanding between them. The seas are a lonely place. Shanks is very obvious about what he wants, and Buggy has opened up to the idea despite his denial at first. For the time being though, they agreed to hold off on making anything of it. To not label what they were to each other. Commitments can make or break a person, and Buggy doesn’t trust himself not to throw Shanks under the bus if things get hard. Besides personal business, Buggy Pirates have a regular business arrangement with the Red—Hair Pirates. They have trading sessions every so often, where they bring out their wares and let others make bids and offers. It reminds him of the old days with Whitebeard and Roger when they did the same. Currently, Buggy is evaluating a crate of goods he’s negotiating over with the Red—Hair Pirates, carefully assessing its value. He’s always been enthralled by the glitter and gleam of shiny, expensive things. Now, more recently, it reminds him of his secret activities, and he has to suppress any subliminal reactions. His attention is stolen when Benn Beckman calls his name. “You gave me some good information on the last island, so here.” Beckman holds out to him a piece of gold jewelry decorated in fine diamonds. Buggy is practically salivating at the outset. Though he’s quick to tamp it down, trying to play it cool. He inspects the item up close like he’s determining its value. It has a complicated clasp on the back. Buggy attempts to place it around his neck, but it squeezes his windpipe with how tight it is. Beckman observes his antics with amusement. “It’s a bracelet. Here.” Beckman shows Buggy how to work the clasp as he wraps it around Buggy’s wrist. The familiar, weighted feeling of the gold has him heating up as memories of his recent activities flood in. It’s mixed up with conflicted feelings at Beckman being nice to him for a change. (Usually the first mate is a condescending know—it—all who never fails to act like he knows Buggy is inferior). The way Beckman holds his wrist is attentive and precise. Buggy’s face flushes against his will. Then Beckman adjusts the size so it squeezes comfortably around his wrist. He can’t hold back — he’s wracked by a full-body shiver, a tiny moan escapes his mouth. Beckman freezes, which makes Buggy freeze in turn. Suddenly, any other feelings have been flushed out by dread. Beckman doesn’t immediately jerk away, but he removes his hands in a very telegraphed manner. Buggy flounders to save himself, “Wait! It’s not like that —“ “I’m flattered, but that isn’t territory I want to cross into.” Buggy gets defensive in that learned, reflexive way he does. “Don’t flatter yourself! I’m not into — whatever it is you’re about!” Beckman goes off to somewhere on the opposite side of the cargo area. Brushing him off like the condescending prick he is. In his paranoia, Buggy swivels his head around to see if anyone else noticed his slip—up. Most people are too engrossed in their own activities or secretly slacking off to carefully observe Buggy and Beckman’s interaction. The person he’s most worried about though — His eyes finally land on Shanks across the cargo area on the far side of the center pile of merchandise. His body is half—turned away, not giving any indication he noticed something was up, staring intently at a crate of fruit.         Buggy works hard to block the memory of his slip—up with the Red—Hair Pirates’ first mate out of his mind. So the next time, when Shanks brings him a small box of jewelry, it comes off as such a sudden gesture it makes Buggy far too confused and suspicious to contemplate the motivation behind it. “Thanks for that,” Buggy replies distractedly, unable to settle on anything else. Shanks scrunches his brow, looking disappointed for some reason. He lifts a silver chain with a dazzling pendant out of the box. “I’ll help put it on you,” Shanks says. “I don’t need help from a guy who can’t even put one on himself,” Buggy retorts. Shanks fingers the chain of the necklace in his hand. “I’d like to give this to you, but I need to see how it looks first…” Buggy snatches the necklace out of Shanks’ hand and detaches his head from his neck to put it on (he’s learned at this point not to allow anyone to put jewelry on him). Buggy turns away from Shanks and says, childishly, “You see that? You’re not getting it back now.” The touch of Shanks’ rough fingers alight on his neck as they hook underneath the chain, running down the length to the pendant at the center. “It really suits you,” says Shanks. Buggy, full of suspicion, looks up and meets his eyes. Shanks glances down at the necklace framing Buggy’s neck, then raises his eyes back up, looking straight back at him with a daring gaze. A little itch starts in the back of his mind, and he’s certain that Shanks knows. Observation Haki can’t read minds! He reminds himself, trying not to panic. He’s trying to trick you into saying something damning! Buggy hurriedly takes off the necklace and stuffs it back in the box. “This isn’t a gift exchange, so don’t expect me to get you anything back.” He stuffs the box of jewels under his armpit and flies for safety to avoid any further scrutiny.     Buggy has done a good job of avoiding any further complications for the past few weeks, especially avoiding any accidental overlap between the Red—Pirates and his proclivity for getting a hard—on for treasure. Those are two things that need to be kept separate until Buggy is certain he won’t find himself in a situation of some kind. He doesn’t need to start collecting them all by adding Yasopp to the list of men who think he’s a pervert because he can’t contain himself over a little treasure.  Then he thinks: who cares what Shanks thinks? Certainly not him. But he’s suddenly stricken with another thought like, what if Shanks thinks he can make fun of Buggy for his treasure loving kink? What if he’s making fun of Buggy right now? Should he be worried that Shanks might be turned off by it? That he’ll think less of him for it? Even though they haven’t actually promised to be anything to each other… Buggy knows that he means something to Shanks. Except neither of them are in positions where they can have a standard commitment. So they are both aware of a shared underlying desire, but nothing has been agreed upon in the open. It’s an unspoken agreement on both their parts to not act rashly or try to give up their current lives for a typical relationship. They aren’t like other people. Except, Shanks has made attempts to make something more of it. He keeps trying to bring those underlying feelings to the surface, making it obvious, and showing more overt affection. He keeps trying to speak his feelings into existence in whatever small way he can. Buggy suspects that Shanks is an inherently lonely person at his core, and for all his outward friendliness, there are a lot of things about himself he can’t explain to people. He’s bottled up a lot of personal things and developed incomprehensible layers over the years. Growing up, he probably made himself think he needed to have certain things in his life to have a fulfilling future, and now he’s starting to unravel his old influences and find new ways to live with himself. Buggy knows this because he is the same. So with all those clumsy feelings being unearthed, Shanks has latched onto the shared thread he has with Buggy like a deprived, lovelorn animal. Buggy is kind of a cruel bastard for refusing to let Shanks open up and air out this thing between them. He’s still trying to reconcile the kid he knew with the adult man he’s become in the last two decades. The way Shanks looks at him is a mixture of longing and heartbreak, the face of a buried man who's looking to the surface.  Whatever it is that Shanks needs from him, it’s a lot of pressure. It’s a while before Shanks makes another one of his attempts to keep in touch with Buggy. It’s strange not to see Shanks around at all whenever Buggy is aboard the Red Force. Buggy usually never has to go looking for him. Buggy walks into the room he knows is Shanks’ quarters and immediately halts after one step inside. Standing in the middle of the room is Shanks, dressed up in a layered dark suit, made up of a white dress shirt without a tie, a black suit jacket, and a black cloak similar to his usual one draped over his shoulders, except this one is lined with delicate gold embroidery and has a brooch with a gold chain pinned to his chest. The left sleeve is hanging empty by his side, everything put together neatly. Buggy feels like he’s walked into a stranger’s room. Shanks spreads his arm out and flashes a stunning grin. “How do I look?” “Like you’ve finally cracked. What’s all this for?” Shanks fiddles with the front of his cloak, and Buggy notices the heavy stones on the rings adorning his fingers — hello there. “It’s about anything expensive, right? That’s what you’re into.” Buggy lets out a sound like a dying croak. He refuses to let himself lose face though. “So what? Are you trying to mock me?” “Actually, I thought we could try it together.” Buggy’s mind stutters like a stalled engine. His mouth clicks repeatedly as he tries to get the right words out. “You want to — what, watch me surround myself in expensive stuff and rub off on it?” Shanks nods, entirely genuine. “Except we’d do it together.” Buggy wants to laugh hysterically. Shanks is being an idiot, as usual. He thinks he can just waltz into Buggy’s private, intimate space and blow through all pretenses and guarded fronts, somehow trying to make it work through a positive attitude and sheer determination. What is this, a company team bonding workshop? Buggy gives Shanks a critical onceover. It’s not such a bad result, considering Shanks’ usual fare, though it is a bit monotone for his tastes. The gold is a nice touch. The biggest change here is that Shanks looks freshly laundered for once. “How did you find out about the suit?” Buggy asks, knowing he never made any hints about it. “Galdino told me how you were with Crocodile.” Fucking snitch. He supposes it was Galdino’s revenge for Buggy acting stupid in front of his former boss. Now Crocodile — that was a man who knew how to dress. A man who found the time to look impeccable even during a prison breakout. It’s clear from his body language that Shanks isn't used to wearing stiff formal wear. His posture is awful and he keeps fiddling with himself, clearly he does not know how to handle finely tailored clothing. Then again, there’s the appeal when someone who always wears loose, casual clothes changes into something fitted and proper; it gives them a completely different image. Buggy moves forward and reaches for the lapels of Shanks’ cloak, which is what he instinctively does whenever he wants to start a confrontation, but then he’s distracted by how soft the material is between his fingers and starts rubbing it with an inspecting touch. “Is this velvet?” “I’m not sure, I just got it from Beck,” says Shanks cluelessly. “I didn’t even have to say anything for him to know what it was for. So, Beck knows you have a luxury kink.” “Of course your first mate fucking knows. You guys probably swap all the hot gossip on your weekly sleepovers.” It’s obvious Shanks couldn’t have put on such an intricate outfit by himself, he had to have outside help. The first mate always had a suspicion since the last incident, maybe it won’t be so damning. Buggy is pulled out of his thoughts when Shanks lifts his hand to slide ringed fingers along Buggy’s jaw. He sweeps his thumb over Buggy’s painted lips (smear—proof) and pries his mouth open. Pulling down his bottom lip, he runs his thumb over the inside; Buggy tastes the crisp metal of the ring. Shanks observes him and says, “Promise me you won’t fall for just anyone who puts expensive jewelry on you.” “Of course I won’t just — wait, are you talking about the time with your first mate? That doesn’t count. He was — I don’t know, it was a different kind of vibe, I can’t explain it…” Shanks leans in to seal his mouth over Buggy’s, earning an indignant ‘mmph!’. He licks into Buggy’s mouth and delves in like he’s going for his tonsils. His hand grazes down Buggy’s throat, the solidity of the rings lighting a fire underneath the skin. Buggy slides his hands down Shanks’ torso, getting really into the feeling of expensive fabric draped over that hard body. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling, it’s kind of enthralling. Shanks slides his hand until he’s gripping the back of Buggy’s neck, tight enough that the metal digs into soft flesh and squeezes down on the muscles. It forces an embarrassingly high—pitched whimper out of Buggy. Shanks pulls back, eyes a little wide, as if he wasn’t expecting Buggy to be so weak for it. “It’s the velvet, alright? Get that fucking look off your face and get back here.” Buggy pulls Shanks back in.  Their mouths back on each other, Shanks undoes Buggy’s hair to let it fall freely over his back. He runs his fingers down his long strands, caresses down the length of his spine and presses into his lower back. Buggy reaches out to remove Shanks’ clothes, but Shanks guides his hands away. “We’ll get to that later. I want you to show me what you like,” Shanks says it so earnestly that Buggy can’t find it in him to refuse. Shanks shows him the chest of treasures he obtained for the occasion (“Oh, now you’re just showing off.”). He didn’t know what Buggy would like so he brought along a random collection of treasures without much thought in their fashion. Buggy chooses the pieces he likes. The knowledge of Shanks’ presence in the room is a constant pressure in his mind, and it makes him inept and irritable, he can’t do it like he normally does when he’s alone. He’s mentally cursing Shanks for sticking his nose into his private business. He decides, then, he’s not going to make this easy for Shanks. He deliberately chooses the most delicate, fragile pieces to dress himself in. If Shanks damages a single piece or bends it even slightly out of place, Buggy is going to use that as an excuse to end their little session right there and then. That way, Shanks won’t be able to touch him too much, and they’ll get through this fast and without fuss. Buggy ends up stripped of his clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed; he’s put on an intricate diamond and jade choker, a sapphire pendant, a whole bunch of gold armlets and bracelets and anklets, delicate beads and pearls wrapping him wherever he can place them, and a body chain made of crystals that loops multiple times around his torso with another complicated chain that drapes over his hips and thighs. Shanks takes in his finished appearance and says, “That's it?” “This is fine,” Buggy grunts. He just wants to get this over with, and spare himself from too much embarrassment. “You better not be careless with any of this. It’s worth a lot, and I don’t like messing it up.” Shanks’ hand grazes lightly down Buggy’s collarbone and chest. “Don’t mess up the treasures. Got it.” Shanks takes a moment as if he’s thinking of something, then digs out a red—and—gold leather belt he suggests Buggy should wear. It’s solid, snug, the kind of flashy and stylish piece he’d wear on a regular basis. Buggy allows it because it has a shiny ruby embedded in the buckle. After he’s done with that last addition, Shanks says, “Okay, lie back down and get comfortable.” Buggy does it with some grumbling, shuffling back to rest his head on the pillows. In his head, thoughts run through like a stream: stupid Shanks, whatever, I’ll just jerk off and that’ll be it, then we can go to sleep and tomorrow we’ll never talk about it again. He’s in the middle of an internal tirade when Shanks wraps his hand around his cock. Buggy’s mind grinds to a screeching halt. The rings slide against sensitive flesh as Shanks strokes up and down Buggy’s cock. It’s — different, having it be someone else, having it be Shanks, who is indulging Buggy’s dirty secret and working to get him off on it. While his hand keeps up the motions, Shanks leans over Buggy’s body to press his lips to the other decorated parts of him. His neck, his upper arms, his navel. Buggy spreads his legs a little more, getting comfortable, trying to relax his body and enjoy the sensation as if it were his own hand. Shanks’ touch is deft, steady, not too chafing. It’s like he’s been practicing on his own.  Buggy’s body gradually starts to heat up. The jewelry is a cool relief on his skin. At this rate, he’ll have no problem finding a quick release. Then Shanks pulls his hand away and — something thin and cold is on his dick. He looks down. A delicate gold chain is wrapped around the base and the tip of his dick, connected by another length of chain. “What the —“ Where the hell did he get that? “This stays on as decoration.” Shanks has on a devious grin. “I’m only going to use this anyway.” His fingers slide down past his balls to circle his hole, a slight caress. He plunges one finger in halfway, right up until the first ring catches on his rim, and it’s enough to make Buggy dig his feet into the mattress. The shape of the ring bumps up against his walls, and Buggy feels every slide of the cool metal against his heated insides. Buggy reaches out to grab at Shanks’ shoulders and — fuck, that velvet is really soft to the touch. Once he has to start really opening Buggy up instead of teasing, Shanks takes the rings off by pulling them off with his mouth. His fingers slicked up with lube make wet noises as he pumps them in and out of Buggy’s passage. Lube drips out with the continuous motions, and Buggy has to spread his feet further apart to make sure it doesn’t get on his precious treasure. The jewelled accessories are like weighted shackles keeping him immobile, forcing him to use concentrated mental energy to keep them pristine. Buggy’s effort doesn’t escape Shanks’ notice. Once he gets in three fingers, Shanks is deliberately making it as messy as possible. A small puddle is forming underneath him and Buggy has to lift his ass above the wet sheets so it doesn’t seep to his hip chain. His body trembles from the strain of holding himself up, cock bobbing hard against his abdomen. Shanks has an insufferable, appreciative look on his face.  “Fuck — are you serving soup down there or are you going to get on with it already —“  “I will, but —” Shanks twists his fingers to make Buggy writhe more, “You should see how sensitive you are.” “I didn’t ask for the shitty commentary —“ In one smooth motion, Shanks’ head dips down and his mouth sinks down on Buggy’s dick, gold chain and all. Buggy can’t contain a shout, hips flying upwards. Shanks doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers. The mouth on him is slow and careful, but the fingers moving in him are flying in and out like they’re intent on abusing his pleasure spot. Buggy feels more aware of every piece of accessory on his body right now and it drives him quicker to the height of arousal, the brush of the finer chains and crystals on his torso and hips, his limbs weighed down by bands, and especially the feel of Shanks’ mouth moving up and down his shaft, the chain being squeezed in that tight space and every shift and glide of it rubbing over his cock. A tongue sweeps over his slit. He can’t hold back any longer. Buggy thrusts into the hollow of Shanks mouth and comes. Shanks slips his mouth off and swallows the liquid down, a small trail dribbling down his chin. Buggy breathes heavily while Shanks rakes his eyes up and down his flushed body. “Do you like being wrapped up like this?” “Ain’t it obvious now?” Buggy grumbles. Shanks leans over Buggy to kiss him as if he’s trying to ease Buggy’s embarrassment, smoothing out the wrinkles on his face by running his lips over every strained point. “You look like something to be kept in a safe. I’ll have to take you as my treasure,” Shanks grins into Buggy’s shoulder, “I’d keep you all dressed up in gold and jewels. You’d lie pretty in my bed, and every night I’d have you open yourself up for me.” “I know —“ Buggy clenches his jaw “— you’re fucking broke.” Shanks just keeps on going, and he sounds so genuinely enticed, “I’d rip off all the treasures on your body, fuck you bare, and replace them so I can do it all over again.” “This is starting to sound like your fantasy kink.” As Buggy watches Shanks unzip his pants and free his stiff cock, he’s keenly aware of an itch starting beneath his skin. Buggy’s movements are practiced as he grabs the lube, coats it on his hands, and slicks up Shanks’ length. Shanks jerks into his grip, growing harder in his hands. At this point, Buggy realizes getting fucked while wearing a bunch of delicate jewels might be a little uncomfortable. He already feels like he’s being caged in by restraints, now he has to keep himself spread open and vulnerable on that thick rod while Shanks takes his pleasure and drives Buggy to the edge again. Forget Shanks being careful, Buggy is going to have to be careful not to lose his mind. Shanks’ is already urging him onto his hands and knees, and Buggy kind of forgets what he was thinking about. The press of a blunt tip against his backside still makes him suck in a sharp breath. There’s a slight resistance at first, but Shanks pushes past it, forcing past the first ring of pressure. Shanks eases himself in. He stops midway to let them both adjust. But Buggy is prepared enough, and he’s no amateur at this, so it doesn’t take much time until he’s completely full and feeling the whole heat of him. “Buggy,” Shanks sighs, sounding way too sappy about it. Shanks presses in until their thighs are touching, then starts fucking in and out, his thrusts short and hurried. Buggy almost forgets about the finery on his body. It’s hard to think about that when you’re trying to arch your back to make sure your insides are hit just right. His brain is turning into mush, just remembering how he’s being fucked while glammed up in fine metals and crystals. He wonders how it looks to Shanks. All he knows are the sounds of Shanks’ ragged breaths, and the occasional murmur of some sweet nonsense. It’s hard to hold his position when his hands and knees keep sliding up the sheets. And Shanks can’t get a good grip on his hips in fear of accidentally snapping the crystal chain with his eager strength. Buggy keeps adjusting the position of his arms and legs, trying to push back, put more force behind each thrust. Next thing he knows, Shanks pulls him up by the belt around his hips, lifting his ass up with it as he drives into him with less restraint. Buggy feels himself burn with half—embarrassment and half—arousal. Which just means he can’t help but tighten around Shanks’ plundering cock. The squelch of his asshole reaches his ears, the increased tension in his body adding to the sloppy sounds, and the friction is intense to the point that it makes Shanks groan. Shanks lifts Buggy’s hips up by the belt, higher and higher, until Buggy’s knees are actually lifted slightly off of the bed. The angle touches on new spots — and Buggy can’t even rock back to chase that pleasure. All he can do is jolt his whole body whenever Shanks sporadically brushes against a certain spot. Then all his impatience runs up to his mouth, “Shanks, let me —“ Shanks rolls his hips while tugging the belt back; he presses as deep as he can go and stills, his length throbbing right against his prostate. It’s enough to make Buggy’s tongue fumble in his own mouth. “You’re clenching around me so hard,” Shanks’ voice strains above him, “I could probably come just from staying like this.” “That’s because you’re —“ “Is it the belt?” Just a single leather belt couldn’t do this to him. It’s the single-minded way Shanks is focused on using this pressure point of Buggy’s to maximize his pleasure. It’s not the kind of care and attention he’s used to. “Aren’t you going to finish already?” Buggy grunts out, because in any situation he will find a way to complain. Shanks lowers Buggy to the bed again and skims his hand down his decorated body, lightly enough he doesn’t disturb the arrangements. “I can’t wreck the outside, so I’m gonna wreck your insides. You feel it? I’m hitting in deep, touching every part of you.” He realizes Shanks is really intent on making this good for him. It gives him some kind of awful chest pain he doesn’t want to look into. Shanks gets a tight hold on the belt. He swivels his hips, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to punch into the deepest part of him, stirring up his insides. Shanks’ breath picks up quickly. Buggy alternates between being utterly vocal and having the air knocked out of his lungs like he’s been doused in seawater; it’s like he’s burning from the inside. Buggy can feel the velvet of Shanks’ clothed thighs rubbing up against his behind repeatedly and it only serves to rattle his mind even more. When Shanks finally spills inside, he lets out a shaky groan. Meanwhile Buggy’s dick is now back to hardness. But he’s spent enough that he’s willing to ignore it in favor of catching his breath. Shanks gives him a few moments before he gets them going again. “I was thinking —“ Shanks pulls out to sit himself back against the backboard, pulling Buggy onto his lap — “this way, you can feel me against you.” With how Shanks looks like he’s having fun, you’d think he was the one getting his kinks fulfilled while Buggy was being the reluctant but indulgent one. Buggy tries to position his body over his lap, but then he becomes aware of Shanks’ release dripping out of him. Shanks gently covers Buggy’s used hole with his fingers. “Don’t wanna stain these nice clothes. Hold it in.” The cheeky smile on Shanks’ face is annoying. But Buggy is also winded up enough from all the stimulation that his mind tips over to resignation and he keeps his body still and poised, hovering just over his lap. In this position, Buggy has the chance to allow his eyes to rove over the suit on Shanks’ body. He gives into the urge to run his hands down the smooth material, breathing heavily. “Never in my life have I seen you dressed up like this. How is it? You don’t feel the way I feel about it?” Shanks shrugs half-heartedly. “I don’t mind it, but it’s all for you anyways. It doesn’t really do much for me.” He knows Shanks can’t stay comfortable in stuffy clothes, especially ones that are snug around his chest and neck area. Turtlenecks? Ties and scarves? He can’t wear them. Buggy can’t help but be bugged when he’s the only one being all vulnerable with his kinks exposed — the neurotic, control freak that he is. So he decides to level the playing field a little. “Unlike you, I’m not an animal,” Buggy says, “I’m not going to ruin this, I know how to take my time.” Buggy loosens a few of the top buttons, then sucks a few marks onto Shanks’ neck and collarbone where he knows he’s aching to feel air. Shanks’ breathing picks up. Buggy spends a few more minutes teasing him, fondling him through the fabric, biting at what little exposed skin there is. After he’s had enough of a taste, Buggy leans back while getting absorbed in feeling up the delicate lining of the suit. “Damn, this feels good. Do you think I could wear it and fuck you sometime?” “If — you want.” Shanks’ voice clicks a little. “But, well —“ Shanks’ voice trails off as Buggy bites and tongues at his neck muscles. Sliding a hand underneath the collar of Shanks’ white button-up, feeling around his chest in sensual motions. “You should be the one lying all prettied up,” says Buggy, “I should keep you as one of my treasures.” The press of the velvet suit against his front has him delirious and hard, but he focuses on taking it piece by piece. First, Buggy unfastens the cloak, and drops it off the side of the bed. He undoes the jacket, unbuttons the shirt underneath, peeling them both off and leaving Shanks’ torso finally free from the weight of the clothes. Next, Buggy slides his hands over Shanks’ thighs, squeezing his inner thighs and making him squirm for a while, then he shimmies Shanks’ pants off of him, along with his underwear, and discards it with the rest before sitting back down on top of him. When Shanks starts reaching for him, Buggy smacks his hand away. Buggy looks down at him like he’s reminding him who’s in control. “Don’t want you to mess it up when I’m looking expensive.” Shanks swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll be careful.” Buggy has a moment to feel smug. He enjoys the way Shanks’ pupils are blown, expression needy and entirely focused on Buggy sinking down onto his cock. Buggy eases himself down so as not to rattle the jewelry too much.  Shanks’ fingertips trace down exposed skin, around the pearls, the gleaming crystals, the sapphires and rubies. They graze over the planes of his abs, an idle but reverent touch. Buggy’s muscles have been straining for a while now. The delicate pieces on his body have got him tense and careful about how he holds himself so they don’t snap or get bent. But fuck, it’s exactly what he needed. Shanks is aware of this. He knows Buggy is relishing in the tingling sensation and the cool slide of metal on his heated skin. He did all this just to see Buggy in this humiliating state. Buggy ignores the fact that Shanks’ gaze is adoring, and he treats Buggy like he’s a precious jewel himself — which coils something tight inside him. Faint drops of sweat are visible on Shanks’ skin, his hair sticking back to his scalp. Although it seems he’s straining on the edge, apparently the pace isn’t enough to get Shanks to release again yet. Shanks can be really fucking obstinate when he wants to be. So Buggy tries to tease him by getting right into his face, brushing their open mouths together and making noises to get under his skin. Shanks just remains settled, accepting whatever kisses Buggy deigns to give him. It’s Buggy who ends up squirming and losing his patience first. He knows he’s going to get tired before Shanks does. So he switches tactics. Buggy tries to go at it harder and intensify things, but Shanks keeps slowing him down with a hand on his hips. “Don’t want to ruin your pretty look in all these trinkets,” he says with a languid smile. Sometimes Buggy hates how his past words and actions come back to bite him. “What do you suggest then?” Shanks pulls Buggy’s hips down snug against his. He leans into Buggy’s ear and says, “I’m gonna sit inside you, and you’re gonna milk my cock like this, with just your walls clenching on me.” Buggy curses. But his body and horny-addled mind is feeling very obliging at the moment. Buggy wraps his arms around Shanks’ shoulders, rocking forwards slightly, his dick rutting against Shanks’ stomach. He focuses on tightening and relaxing rhythmically. It’s frustrating and makes him even more pent—up. The situation and the slowed down pace makes him hyper—aware of the expensive treasures all over his overstimulated body, the sensations from every place they touch his skin dialed up to ten. He wants to rub them into his flesh until they fall apart, feeling the sudden urge to tear at them — but he can’t. Instead, Buggy gropes at every part of Shanks’ body he can reach. He runs his hands down Shanks’ back and fondles what he can reach of his backside, rubbing down the middle crevice like he’s trying to spread his cheeks apart. Shanks is only going to let him come in the slowest, most torturable ways, all because of these damn treasures. Like this, it would take too long for Buggy to come. “It’s sweet seeing you work so hard for me,” says Shanks, nuzzling his face into Buggy’s hair. “It makes me happy.” Buggy’s entire face contorts like it does when Shanks says something that cuts straight to the heart, having to fight the swell of sentimentality infecting him. It sticks to his ribs like tar and Buggy has a severe allergy. He keeps clenching down like he’s aiming towards the goal of orgasm, making it feel as good as possible for both of them. The way his walls try to mold around the cock sends tingles of pleasure all the way up to his pleasure spot. Shanks rubs his jaw against Buggy’s neck, fingers brushing along his spine, murmuring, “You’re so hot and tight around me.” Buggy just lets out a long, drawn-out moan, too agitated to do anything else. Everything feels too sensitive, the precious metals and gems igniting his skin and edging him but not being enough is driving him nuts; he can't stand it anymore. Shanks’ hand reaches between them to rub the gold chain into Buggy’s heated dick, making tiny swirls with his thumb and forefinger. Buggy realizes, horribly, the treasure isn’t enough for him anymore. He finally has the sense to push himself off Shanks with a slick sound. This pace is going to drive him crazy. He needs to get this expensive stuff off of him now. He crawls off of Shanks’ lap, and he’s turned around on his hands and knees when Shanks places one hand on his hip to stay him, keeping him from getting further. Buggy, albeit confused and a little disgruntled, lets Shanks run a gentle palm over his sweaty body, because the desires in his brain is stronger than anything else right now. He’s expecting Shanks to just get in him and get his release already. Then he feels Shanks’ mouth press into his ass. He lets out a surprised curse just as he feels the broad flat of a tongue probing at his entrance. A thumb comes up to rub at the spot just above his balls while Shanks licks into him. Shanks is still careful not to disturb the placement of the accessories. He ignores all the jewels and finery and focuses on sticking his tongue into Buggy’s most intimate place. It’s filthy and revealing and it gets him off like he never could have imagined when he was alone. Without even thinking about it, Buggy rocks back onto Shanks’ face. His insides lighting up like the entire place is a pleasure center. Shanks’ tongue swirls around the wetness of his hole, suctioning at his soft flesh open mouthed, uninhibited in the way he greedily and messily presses in. It’s like Shanks is so fucking single-minded on giving Buggy pleasure only through that place while avoiding everything else, it makes Buggy want to crawl out of his skin. A fist wraps around Buggy’s dick and pumps it - still wrapped in a delicate gold chain - slicking it up from top to bottom, rubbing the chain against his shaft as Shanks’ tongue keeps fucking in and out of him. He decides he’s had enough. “Oh, god — fuck. Take it off already.” Shanks pulls off to ask, “You sure?” Buggy is just so fed up. “I don’t care about the treasure anymore, goddammit — you’re the one who drives me crazy. Fuck, no one else does it for me.” Buggy finds himself quickly pulled up into a hard and solid embrace, before falling onto his back. Shanks grins lasciviously at him from above. “I did that for you?” Buggy wants to roll his eyes whenever Shanks gets overly gleeful like this. “You better tear this stuff off me before I do it myself.” Shanks is looking pleased and way too accomplished with himself. The bastard was waiting for this moment. It’s almost annoying enough to make Buggy take back his words out of spite. Almost, but not quite. Shanks enters him again, thrusting in hard enough to make Buggy bounce along the rucked—up sheets. They pull off the bracelets and armlets first, Buggy helping to slide them off in a hurried manner, practically tossing them off the bed, not even caring about the state of them while he forgets he could probably detach his body parts and let them fall off of him. Shanks’ fingers rake down his sides, and Buggy feels the beads and finer pieces fly off from their delicate strings being snapped. Chains and strings break and scatter all over the bed. So all he can feel is Shanks’ sweaty skin on top of his. Shanks takes off the belt off with a snap so it probably tears. It’s rough and clumsy, and Buggy lets out a whine in his throat, arching his back at its removal. He doesn’t even bother to be careful with the necklace or the choker. Shanks leans down to attack Buggy’s neck with his mouth and actually snaps the necklace off with his teeth. With every piece of jewelry gone, he replaces the loss of cool metal with his own heated touches and kisses. Buggy doesn’t know how it’s possible, but getting treasure ripped off of him feels even better than keeping it on. His pale body is covered in marks and red blotches from the rough handling and Shanks littering love bites all over his chest and shoulders, leaving trails of saliva.  Shanks’ teeth latch onto the thick meat of Buggy’s neck, sucking marks that sting slightly, all the while he thrusts into him at a rapid pace. Buggy lifts his hips to help Shanks in deeper, fucking himself back on his cock, rocketing up and down like the brakes have been cut loose. The sensations against his prostate shoot straight to his cock. It’s like a direct line to making his dick feel like it’ll explode with nerves. Shanks takes notice of how loose and wanton Buggy’s expression becomes, gasping and whining at a higher pitch, deriving more and more pleasure each time he’s pounded into. “Buggy — your ass feels good, doesn’t it?” He doesn’t know what Shanks did to him, but Buggy is hyper aware of every slide against his inner walls. Every stroke feels like a hot brand or an electric jolt down his spine. He’s oversensitive from all the previous activity. He somehow suspects Shanks did it on purpose knowing what it would do to Buggy. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” Buggy forces out through a groan. “Did what?” Shanks looks at him openly. Now Shanks is playing dumb. Buggy will never forgive him for this. “It’s all your fault.” “Hm?” “You made me like this. Fuck — I’m turning all depraved because of you.”  “It’s your body getting used to me,” Shanks’ tone is deeply gratified. “Feel how it massages me just right, so good for me...” He punctuates his words with another thrust. Buggy refuses to believe his body is somehow getting trained to accommodate Shanks’ desires. But he can’t deny the fact he’s rocking his hips back into Shanks’, clamping down like he’s trying to pull him in every time he pulls out. His pride hates to admit it, but the reverse is just as true, Shanks knows how to please him to drive him to madness.  It’s not like there’s anyone but Shanks to hear. “Fuck yes, if that’s what you want. I’ll do it just the way you like it, ah —“ Shanks pulls Buggy half onto his thighs, watching his cock plunge in and out. Buggy bends so his knee is pulled up to his chest, taking it with gusto, his rim stretched out. Shanks is full on leering while he pants hard, eyes half—lidded like he’s witnessing a feast for the eyes. “You don’t know what you do to me,” Shanks says, but the words get drowned out to Buggy’s ears. Buggy gives him a good visual, red cock bobbing in the air, spreading his legs to show off his ass being plowed, how he’s shamelessly enjoying it. When Buggy climaxes, Shanks holds him down and fucks him through it, unable to hold back a pleasured groan when Buggy clenches around him so hard it punches a breathless groan out of him. Buggy gets to draw out his orgasm with Shanks still inside him, chest heaving as he lets him watch how he comes down from the aftershocks. Then he grabs onto Shanks and pulls him down. “C’mon, Shanks,” he rasps, “decorate me in your come instead.” Shanks pulls out — and with a few rough strokes, he’s coming all over Buggy’s front. His pale skin shiny from being slick with sweat and fluid. In a complete turnover, he’s gone from being covered in gold and diamonds to being a disgusting receptacle. Shanks grins down at the sight of Buggy in his own mess, in part admiration and part fondness. “I like this look on you.” “You would, you tasteless idiot.” The idiot in question is too busy rubbing his scratchy face against the side of his leg and grinning shamelessly like he’s got everything he wanted.     “Thanks for lending me the suit, Beck.” “Don’t mention it.” “Oh, that famous suit that was for…y’know.” Howling Gab mimes at Buggy in what he thinks is a discrete gesture. “Did you fucking tell everyone?!” Buggy cries out. Shanks scratches the back of his neck. “I only meant to ask for advice on the clothes, and then word got around…” “I had plans to trade this suit,” says Beckman, “but Shanks wanted to use it before that, and well, I just told him to send it to the laundry before returning it.” “That’s really going to increase the value,” says Howling Gab. “Red—Hair Shanks fucked in this suit. We could get a lot for it.” His forehead vein twitching, Buggy turns a glare onto Shanks. “This doesn’t bother you?” “Whatever works, I guess?” Shanks seems to have already put it out of mind, leaning back in his chair as he has a drink with his crew — who he apparently can’t keep anything from. Literally, they’re slapping him on the back, telling him what a considerate partner he is for indulging a guy like Buggy in his bedroom kinks. Buggy wants to strangle all of them. “Hey, boss, fair’s play. Since you did all this for Buggy, he should do something you like.” “Yeah, we can always get the men together again to brainstorm ideas for you. Think of things we know you’ll be into.” The Red—Hair Pirate flashes him a thumbs—up. “What would I do without you guys?” says Shanks, laughing warmly. “I hate this fucking crew!” Buggy screams and stomps off, tearing his hair out with his hands.

Sabine had just finished her second year of college and was off for the summer. Because her parents did not have a lot of money she had to find a job, which she did, at a local office. After she had been there a couple of weeks she heard some of the other women talking about the boss. It seems that he had been offering some of the women $500 to undress in front of him. But he had not offered this to Sabine. At first she was glad. She did not want to have to say no to him, but wasn't sure that she would be able to say yes, even that she wanted to say yes. Sabine was not innocent, she had had several boy friends and knew what men wanted, even had let some of them do some things. She wasn't a virgin, but had only had sex twice. But, after another couple of weeks, while the thought of him asking her for that had gotten rather exciting to her, she came up with a plan. There were times where some of the women had to work late and she volunteered for one of those nights. She had checked out an area away from the office and had brought some clothes that she had prepared at home. She walked into the bosses office and closed the door. "Mr. Adams, I have a question." "Yes?" "Why, when you asked some of the girls here to undress for money, you didn't ask me?" Her boss was somewhat shocked by her forwardness. "Uh, because you are rather young for me." "Don't you think that I would have wanted the $500?" "Well, I suppose you would have but I still wouldn't have asked you because of your age, Sabine." "Well, I have thought about this Mr. Adams. I would like to make you an offer, but we need to go somewhere else." Adams, a mid forties man was even more surprised but also now interested. "Let me change clothes and we can go for a short drive." Sabine left him sitting there and went to ladies room and changed into her prepared clothes, a t-shirt with the neck and hem cut through, a bra with the clasp ready to pull off and no straps, a pair of shorts with the button really loose and ready to pull off and panties with the waistband and leg holes cut almost all the way through. She held a long coat over her arm and went and got Adams. "This won't take long Mr. Adams and I think that you will like it." She led him to his car and directed him to a church near a city park. A large park with softball fields on one side, camping far into the park and some walkways on the other side from the softball fields. It was almost dusk, but still light enough for him to see. They parked, got out of the car and Sabine led him into the park, along the furthest walkway. They walked a good way into the park, still light enough and Sabine stopped him, led him somewhat off the walkway and hung her long coat over a tree limb. Then she led him away from her coat. She stopped and turned to him. "You may not have noticed, but my clothes have been slightly adjusted, Mr. Adams. If you would just grab the neckline of my shirt and pull, you'll see what I mean." Adams looked at Sabine, not really getting it. Sabine stepped up to him, took his hands, placed them on the neckline of her shirt... "Pull." He did finally and her shirt tore down the front and then he smiled. "Push it off me." He did and it slid down Sabine's arms and fell on the ground behind her. She shivered. Her coat was 75 feet away from her and she knew what she was going to allow him to do to her. "Just get a good grip and pull, Mr. Adams." He smirked at her, grabbed the front of her bra and yanked. The clasp let loose, pulling the hooks out and her boobs bounced out into the open, nipples hard. Adams tossed the bra away and gazed at her bare boobs. "You don't have to pay me the $500. Go ahead." Adams grabbed the waistband of her shorts and pulled hard. The button popped off and the zipper peeled open. The shorts were very loose and slithered down Sabine's legs to her ankles. She shivered again, in just her panties, and stepped out of the shorts. Adams didn't wait for an go ahead, he just grasped her panties and yanked. The waistband snapped, then both leg openings, leaving him with destroyed panties in one hand and Sabine bare ass naked. Adams tossed the panties behind Sabine and gazed at her naked body. Now that everything had happened that she had planned, Sabine was having some second thoughts. She looked at him and noticed that he was smirking and she had to force herself not to cover up, to just stand there completely exposed. "This could have been done at the office, at work, Sabine. Why did you want to come here?" "Ah, the thought of you doing what you did, in the open, it, ah, made me feel, ah, excited." His smirk, smile, got even wider. "Slip your shoes off and come here, Sabine." She shivered, looked down at the ground and toed off her shoes. "Not too sure that you should have done this?" "Ah, no, not right now." "Come here." Sabine walked up to Adams, only looking up at him when she had reached him. He still had a large smirk on his face. His left hand reached out and touched her shoulder and then slowly moved down, eventually closing over her right boob. Sabine gasped. Adams squeezed it, rubbing her nipple while his right hand slid across Sabine's left boob, down her belly and eased into her pubic hair. She began to breathe faster and her legs involuntarily moved apart. Adams chuckled and slid his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy and then slipping his middle finger right up inside her pussy. "I don't want..." "Right now I don't care what you want, Sabine, and you certainly are right about being excited. You are dripping wet. You're not a virgin, are you?" "Ah, no, no I am not..." "Good, very good." By now it was getting dark, just the lights of security lights along the walkway letting the two of them see anything. "Now, I want to test how excited and obedient you can be, Sabine." All the while moving his finger inside her. "See that light pole down there?" Sabine looked where Adams had indicated. "Yessss." "Walk down there and touch the pole, then walk back to me." "I can't..." "Yes you can, and I think you want to, Sabine. Go ahead and do it." The light pole had to be at least 150 feet away. Sabine wanted to do it and didn't want to do it. Adams pulled his finger out of her, cupped both her boobs and squeezed them, rubbing his thumbs over her erect nipples, making her gasp again. "Go on, Sabine, you know that you want to." Sabine hesitantly turned towards the light pole, completely naked, outside, with her boss and began to walk. Adams chuckled. He watched his bare ass naked employee walk down the path, her ass moving, the ass crack clearly visible. He thought to himself, "I can't believe that she is actually doing this". Then he gathered up the torn scraps of her clothes and her shoes and tossed them all into a large patch of brush slightly off the walkway. Then he faced Sabine and watched her walking, nude, a long way away from him. Adams did not really believe that Sabine would have done what she did, what she is now doing. It was a complete and total surprise to him, but one that he was really enjoying. Adams watched Sabine walk up to the light pole, in a pool of light, and touch the pole, then turn and begin walking back to him. He still was chuckling as he observed the nude woman, seeing her boobs jiggle and bounce as she walked along. She finally arrived, shivering, slightly red-faced. Adams laughed. "Come on." He walked towards the exit and before that Sabine's coat. Sabine walked with him, naked, his right hand cupping and feeling her bare ass. She didn't tell him to stop. When they arrived where she had hung her coat on a branch of a tree, Adams looked at her and smirked. "Wait here." Then he took her coat and walked off towards his car. Sabine stood there, surprised, shivering, nude. Would he come back for her? She didn't know for sure, was scared that he wouldn't and somewhat excited by what she was doing. It seemed like it was forever, but Adams finally came back, without her coat. "Let's go to the car, Sabine." As Sabine walked alongside Adams, he casually reached down and over, cupping her bare ass and feeling it, from time to time running his fingers through her ass crack. The first time he did that she jumped and he chuckled. But she clenched her teeth and let him do what he wanted. It was arousing her. They got to his Town Car and got into it. Adams turned on the car and then the interior lights. "Show me your pussy." Sabine felt her face heating, she knew that she was blushing, but there was something she wanted to tell him, needed to tell him. So... "Ah, I want to ask you for something Mr. Adams. First of all, you don't have to give me anything for doing this. In a way, for me, it's better if I don't get any money or anything. And what I want you to to do is not refer to my parts like most people do. Call them tits. Call it my ass." She swallowed. She looked down. "Call it my, uh, cunt." Adams burst out laughing. When he had calmed down, he reached over, pushed her face up so she had to look at him, and smirked. "All right, Sabine, show me your cunt. Lean back against the door, put your feet up on the seat and let your knees fall apart. Let's see that cunt of yours." Sabine moaned softly, closing her eyes and did as she was told. After she did it, she slowly lifted her ass off the seat and then opened her eyes, looking at Adams as he stared at her. She shuddered as she watched him extend his arm and thrust a finger up inside her. She gasped, but said nothing, just let him do it. "Damn, girl, you are wet as hell!" Adams worked his finger in and out of Sabine and to her horror, she felt her ass moving, pumping towards his knuckles. Adams laughed as she did this, watching her. After a few minutes of this, Adams removed his finger and turned off the interior lights. Then he drove off, back towards the office. But he couldn't resist a few words... "Do you like being bare ass naked, Sabine?" No answer came. "Do you like it when I feel your tits?" No answer. "Do you like it when I feel your bare ass?" No answer. "Do you like it when I finger fuck your slut cunt, Sabine?" Sabine whimpered, then... "Yes, I do Mr. Adams." At the underground parking garage, Adams parked and got out, motioning Sabine to get out of the car also. Adams stared at her, grinning. "I like you naked Sabine. Get up on the trunk and show me your cunt again." Sabine backed up to the trunk, used her arms to hoist her ass up on it and slowly spread her legs again. "Christ you are wet! Pull your ass cheeks apart so I can see your asshole Sabine." She did it, whimpering softly, but aroused by how nasty she was being, just because he wanted her do things. "Your asshole is wet too Sabine. You must be leaking out of your cunt." Sabine closed her eyes, not wanting to see him staring at her most intimate parts. Finally Adams had her get off the car and had her walk up the three flights of stairs to the office floor. She was still naked, not knowing if the cleaners were in the building, not knowing if she was going to be caught bare ass. She was scared but aroused when she thought of being caught. Naked for Adams was one thing but having the cleaners see her, that was something altogether else for her. As Sabine and Adams entered the office Sabine thought that she heard a vacuum cleaner running, but she wasn't sure. It made her stomach clench. Adams, instead of leading her to his office as she thought he would, led her to the conference room. "Get up on the table, ass at the edge, feet up on it and beside your ass." Nervously Sabine did as she was told. "Close your eyes." She did and heard the sound of a zipper. Then she felt something between her pussy lips, rubbing up and down them, initially somewhat soft but then getting firmer, harder. She moaned. As it rubbed downward it seemed to linger at her opening, teasing into it slightly, then back out. She thought that she knew what it was, Adams penis, but wasn't sure. That went on for some time, then she heard the door to the conference room open, a gasp, and she looked to see a cleaning woman standing in the doorway with a shocked look on her face. Sabine gasped... "Oh my God..." And then Sabine felt the thing at her pussy reach her opening and forcefully slid up inside her, then jerked several times inside her. "Oh no, God no, I am not on birth control!" The door closed. Adams was grasping her hips and she knew for certain that his penis was deep inside her and that he had just cum inside her. "Why did you do that?" "I don't cum on women, I cum inside them." "I am not on birth control. I could get pregnant." "So?" Sabine moaned and she felt him pull out of her, then a wetness trickle down between her ass cheeks. "I told you that I didn't want sex, didn't I?" "I don't think so, and it wasn't sex, I just put it in you. If I came it was involuntarily. Besides, you don't really think that I could watch you prance around in front of me naked without thinking that I could fuck you, did you?" "Let me up." Adams put himself away and stepped back. "I need to go, I need to go now." Sabine slid off the table and felt more of him slipping out and oozing down the inside of her thighs. Adams smirked at her and let her go off, down the three flights of stairs to her car, following her, chuckling. She was still nude. She was not happy. They reached his car. "I need my coat." Adams opened the trunk and got it for her, Sabine put it on and left for her car, sniffling, wondering if she was going to end up pregnant. Adams was completely pleased with himself. Sabine drove home and played the entire evening over in her mind, calling herself stupid in her mind. She still felt more of him oozing out of her all the way home. Most of the night was spent awake, bemoaning how dumb she had been. The next morning she debated going to work, but finally decided to go, dressed, make up on, nice clothes. She got to the office and worked hoping that the entire thing would be forgotten, but knew that it wouldn't. Around 10AM, when most of the staff took their morning break, she was called and Adams asked her to come to his office. She didn't want to go, but she did. She was nervous and upset. But when she walked into his office, she was becoming somewhat excited once more. "Close the door." She did that and came to the front of his desk, sitting down in a chair. Adams looked at her, smirking again. "Stand up." Sabine did so. "Take off your clothes." Sabine swallowed nervously. "I don't..." "I don't really care what you don't Sabine. I've seen it all, I've been up that tight little cunt of yours and I want you to strip, right here, right now. I want you bare ass naked again and I want you to spread your legs so I can see that tight cunt and asshole of yours again. And if you don't, I've told Amy and Mary about last night and everything that happened and they would be completely happy to come in here and take your clothes off for you. I don't think that you want that to happen, do you?" "NO!" "Then strip. Everything off, even your shoes. I want you bare ass naked again, Sabine. And I am not going to pay you anything for it, no money, no extra days off, no perks of the job, just you getting naked for me, whenever I want, wherever I want. Because I want it and I think that you get off on it, don't you? Sabine, you are going to be my little naked employee for as long as you work here. And you are going to get off on it. I saw that in your eyes last night, that it turned you on, that you liked it. How wet that cunt of yours got without me even touching you showed that to me. Now strip, everything off, right now. Sabine moaned softly, and her hands went to the top button on blouse, undoing it...

Asshain In Asshain, dark clouds and eerie mountains cover the entire landscape. Known for its Ash River it is known as the Shadow Lands by many. The population of the city cannot match the scope and space of it. Not many live among the great walls. At night, only one of ten buildings shine a light. Every place and structure in Asshain is constructed in dark stone with the exception of one.  The Temple of the Red Priestesses and the Lord of Light is colored with cream sand stones light the city in the center with torches and candles. Normally, in the daylight the Red Women would flock to-and-from the temple to worship as they please. But, in the night it is found secluded with only one sister allowed to remain inside to maintain the flames inside.  This night, Lady Mito clad in her red dress and shawl over her red hair sits in silent prayer as she waits for morning to come. She stares at the large torch in the center that shines the Lord's light. Her eyes remain closed as she recites words to her Lord.  Suddenly a chilly draft takes over the room, she can feel it on her skin. A gust of breeze from above blows inside and all of the candles in the room go out, almost systematically.  Mito opens her eyes to find herself in total darkness, except for one light.  The large torch at the center of the temple burns brightly, the Lord's light coming through. But, only his light, no others.  She stands and walks closer towards the flame until she stops right in front of it.  Her eyes alight with it as she sees the visions in the flames. Vampires and blood clashing with men and snow, a dragon emerges before it all returns to an icy wall. Where it all comes back to. Where it all starts.  Now is the time, the Lord of Light has made her wait for this moment to come. She must make preparations to leave Asshain and return to Westeria because the Great War is finally beginning.  Ebina Shinoa takes her breakfast on a balcony in solitude. This is one of the rare times she is left alone from Kagiyama and Lady Hyakuya. Ser Kouta stands to her side and attends to her every need. Shinoa has taken note of the man and Lady Hyakuya's especially bitter treatment towards him. Almost going out of her way to find an excuse to hit or insult him. The man has been with her since she's arrived and he's treated her kindly.  "Ser Kouta." Shinoa watches as the man bristles.  "Is everything alright, My Lady?" Ser Kouta asks.  "I've noticed you speak almost as a nobleman would." Shinoa says. "You weren't born a servant, were you?" Ser Kouta nods, "That's correct, My Lady." "Then, how did you come into Lady Hyakuya's service?" Shinoa asks, "Were you indebted to her in some way?" "No, My Lady." Ser Kouta tells her.  "Then, how?"  "I'm her prisoner." Ser Kouta says.  Shinoa's eyes widen in realization as all the pieces fall together, "For what crime?" "I was your brother's Hand." Ser Kouta says.  "Which one?" "King Seishirou Hiiragi." Ser Kouta says with a bitter sort of pride.  "You're a prisoner of the Red Wedding." Shinoa nods.  "I am, My Lady." Ser Kouta says, "I was the one to be married to broker the alliance. When, Lady Hyakuya killed your brother for your uncle, she revealed the marriage was a ploy and took me as her prisoner in the dungeons before forcing me to be her servant." "Did your wife know that the marriage was a lie?" Shinoa asks.  Ser Kouta only looks down in shame and Shinoa knows the meaning of his grim silence.  "I'm sorry." Shinoa says, "I never did meet Seishirou. What was he like? I've mostly heard things about him that are not so admirable." "Your brother was one of the bravest and strongest men I knew before he took on the quest to pursue the Seraphin Throne. After that he became hungry for power and desperate to become King, so much it led to his death." Ser Kouta tells her, "But, I'd like to think that the man I knew before was still there under all of it the entire time. That's how I'll remember him." "I wish I'd met him then." Shinoa says. "I'm sorry for where you are now." "I've dealt with worse." Ser Kouta says, "Lords and Ladies have always used the common folk for their own desires, never taking their needs into consideration. Maybe, if they did most would not be known the way they are after they're gone."   "Sometimes Lords and Ladies have no option, but to reckon with their own terrible circumstances." Shinoa replies, "We're not always as better off as you think." "Aye, you might be right about that." Ser Kouta nods.  Shinoa stares at him for a minute before going back to her breakfast.  Frightfort The sun begins to set as ship in the middle of the Blood Sea moves along the waves. Mirai Kimizuki addresses the twenty Osaka Bay soldiers she's taken with her to rescue Shihou. The party will reach the gates of the Frightfort when night falls.  She stands at the center, a rare omega in complete power as the men surrounding her listen to her attentively.  The young omega's voice is grim as she reads from the scroll her father received, "I give you until the full moon to order all Osaka Bay scum out of the North and back to those shit-stained rocks you call home. On the first night of the full moon, I will hunt down every islander still on our lands and flay them living, the way I flayed the 20 Ironborn scum I found at Snowstorm. In the box you'll find a special gift-- Shihou's little toy. He cried when I took it away from him. Leave Nagoya now or more boxes will follow with more Shihou. Signed Ky Luc, natural born son of Shoya Hanayori, Lord of the Frightfort and Warden of the North." Mirai looks up to the angry faces of her men, "They skinned our countrymen and they mutilated my brother, your prince. Your prince. Everything they've done to him, they've also done to you." The omega continues resolutely, her voice booms, "As long as they can hurt our prince with impunity, the word Ironborn means nothing!" Inside of the highest room in the highest tower of the Frightfort, candles light the room in the dead of night.  Ky Luc lies naked on the bed, his alpha coming out as Sayuri in an equal state of undress climbs on top of the alpha. The omega has her hair in a loose braid that cascades over her shoulder.   She slowly leans her face down towards his and instinctively begins to grind her hips so her cunt is rubbing against Ky Luc's cock.  She nuzzles his nose, but avoids kissing her half-brother. His gaze turns cold and almost murderous as he possessively runs his hands down her back, skimming past her hips, before finally landing on her cheeks.  Sayuri knows now is the right time and allows Ky Luc's cock to breach the lips of her vulva. She begins to thrust more instinctively as he guides her forcefully onto his cock. His eyes cold and calculating. Knowing that only he holds the true power here and that's the way she likes it. They both grunt as they meet each other's thrusts.  The thrusts grow more forceful and aggressive as it drives both of them closer to their climax. Sayuri rides him deeply until he loses his expression and his mouth falls open.  She can't help the instinctive glee she feels as her hand plasters to the wall above her, "Yes!" Her hands move to his throat as her screams of ecstacy fill the room and he lets out labored cries before she finishes first. Ky Luc wills himself not to finish until she does as he finally comes.  Sayuri's head falls onto his forehead in bliss before flipping over on the bed to drift into a peaceful slumber.  In the dark of night, Mirai and her men in a limited amount of boats begin to row their way towards the waters near the Frightfort.  The words in the letter echo in her head as her brother is the one thing she cannot get out of there. She has to get him home as soon as possible because she knows nobody else will care to do so if she doesn't.  The men row her towards the dark castle as she looks ahead towards where her brother is being kept. On the waters outside the Frightfort, three Ironborn boats led by Mirai land on a secluded, unguarded part of the shores.  Mirai leads the men out of the boats onto the shores, silently moving in a shroud of darkness. A guard from the top of the wall hearing the sound of metal clanking looks left to see a grappling hook flying and landing onto a part of the upper fence, he rushes towards the area before an axe hits him square in the forehead causing blood to immediately start pouring from the wound.  Mirai comes over the walls before more men follow her.  "Go left." Her first mate orders.  More Hanayori guards arrive as the Kimizuki men clash with them. One charges towards Mirai who dodges the beta before pushing him against a wall, effectively taking a hostage.  "Shihou Kimizuki." Mirai orders.  "I don't know-" The guard starts.  Mirai braces him against the wall again, "I'm here for Shihou Kimizuki. Take me to the dudgeons." "He's not in the dungeons." The guard says, terrified for his life.  In the darkened kennels of the Frightfort, Kimizuki resembles one of the hounds that reside as he tries to lie down on the little hay given to him as a bed. He remains locked in a metal cage like an animal, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep in the cramped space.  His eyes remain shut until they open at the sound of the dogs growling and feet coming down the steps.  The First Mate emerges from the entrance before Mirai follows with her knife at the guard's throat.  The terrified Hanayori guard squeals out, "Last cage on the right." The bells begin to ring as screams can be heard.  "Thank you." Mirai replies coolly, before nonchalantly slicing the guard's throat causing the man to fall to the ground as blood pours from the gash. Kimizuki's eyes widen at the sound of his sister's voice. He feels like his mind is fooling him and even if it wasn't he could never acknowledge her the way he is. He forces himself to sit up, out of curiosity and fear for his life.  She takes the torch and begins walking through the kennels as the dogs bark at her until she finally stops in front of the last cage.  Kimizuki backs away until he's tucked in a corner as the lit flame comes closer. His eyes go impossibly wide in fear and terror. Mirai's eyes widen in horror at Kimizuki's state. There is no trace of the alpha who was once there when she first saw him. Hell, there's no trace of an alpha at all. It's almost like he has been rendered broken as nothing. She can barely recognize him, at all. All she knows is she has to get him out of here. He's covered in dirt and his clothes are torn.   "We're going home, Shihou." She says to him with a calm expression. She knocks an axe against the cage lock as Kimizuki recoils in fear. Kimizuki's eyes water in confusion at the sound of his own name leaving his sister's mouth.  Kimizuki remains frozen in fear. He can't leave. He can never leave. How can he live with the way he is? How will he return home the way he is? He's no longer an alpha. He's even lesser than an omega. He feels like nothing is in him anymore. There is no place for him anywhere, but here. He is only what Ky Luc has made him. His master owns him now. He belongs to him as Reek. He'll never let him go. That's when it hits him. Ky Luc is testing him, trying to trick him and give him a false sense of security when there is none. Not anymore. He wants him to run away so he can torture him and hurt him. But, Kimizuki won't let him. He won't let himself be tricked and fooled. He will remain here like the good pet he is. He is Ky Luc's Reek.  When he looks up at the omega girl, he can't register his sister because he knows it's not her. He knows he is being fooled for amusement. He knows this is probably some tavern slut who resembles his sister. He knows his master is testing him, but he will pass.  "It's all right. It's me, Mirai." Mirai moves inside of the cage and kneels down.  "You can't trick me." Kimizuki says weakly, yet determined. "Tell him. Tell him you couldn't trick me." "I'm not tricking you, Shihou. I'm saving you." Mirai tries to comfort her brother, desperately.  "I'm not Shihou!" Kimizuki shouts defensively almost like he's spurned by the name. "Reek! Reek! My name is Reek!" "They're here." The first mate notifies Mirai. Mirai looks back, "If they catch us in here, we're trapped. Help me with him." Both of them try to grab him and drag him out, but Kimizuki refuses to move from the cage as the dog barks grow.  "No, you can't! You can't!" Kimizuki screams and pleads.  "You're Shihou Kimizuki!" Mirai shouts as they struggle. "No, I don't believe her! I know who I am! I'm Reek! Reek! Loyal Reek! Good Reek! I've always been Reek!" Kimizuki shouts unwaveringly. He fully knows who he is and who he belongs to now.  They finally drag him out of the cage and the First Mate covers Kimizuki's screams with a gloved hand as they begin to force him to move.  Suddenly, Ky Luc enters with men behind him. The alpha is shirtless with boots and pants on, covered with bloody scratch marks and splashes that are not his.  The Ironborn raise their shields in a defensive position as Kimizuki's eyes widen in fear at the sight.   Ky Luc has his hands outstretched with a dagger in his right and another in his left. "This is turning into a lovely evening." Ky Luc and his men charge at the Ironborn and they begin to engage in battle as the dogs snarl and bark loudly.  The men of Osaka Bay fight valiantly against the bloodthirsty Hanayori men. Ky Luc fights effectively with his daggers, dispatching man-after-man.  "I'm Reek! Loyal Reek!" Kimizuki cries before the First Mate covers his mouth again.  Mirai struggling to stop Kimizuki's thrashing accidentally pushes him back enough to almost get free. She grabs him before Kimizuki sinks his teeth onto her flesh hand and scurries back to the corner of the cage, panting in terror.  "AHHH, Shihou!" Mirai screams in pain as her brother runs back to his cage.  A man engages her from behind and she dodges before stabbing him with a pointed mace. Another two come up to fight her before she stabs them both swiftly with her dagger.  The dogs try to bite through the metal bars.  Mirai and Ky Luc face each other from a distance, a sadistic smirk on his face as he looks at the omega. Their men stand behind them. Ky Luc somehow getting on the side closer to Kimizuki.  "Give me my brother and no more of your men will die." Mirai challenges.  "You've got bigger balls than he ever did. But, with those big balls of yours..." Ky Luc tells her as he produces a key, "How fast can you run?" Mirai's eyes study Kimizuki, she severely underestimated how broken he truly is. She can't save him, if he doesn't let her and she can't sacrifice her men for a lost cause.  Ky Luc turns towards a lock and opens the dog cages.  In the night, Mirai and the remainder of her men not caught by the hounds race back to the boats.  They quickly jump on the small skiff. The row man looks at the blood splattered on the girl's face.   "Make for the ship, now." Mirai says coldly.  "But, your brother-" The row man starts.  "My brother is dead." Mirai declares as her and her men begin to make their way back to the ship.  Kimizuki stands in Ky Luc's chambers in the morning. He keeps his eyes meekly downcast.  Kimizuki looks at the man seated on the edge of a tub filled with water, running his hand through it.  "I have a treat for you. A reward." Ky Luc tells him.  "Reward?" Kimizuki mumbles. "Yes, Reek. Those creatures who came in the night, they wanted to take you away. And you didn't let them. You remained loyal." Ky Luc tells him proudly.  "I-I didn't want them to take me. I was so scared. I didn't want them-" Kimizuki begins with a sniffle before he is cut off. Ky Luc stands and makes his way towards him, "Yes, yes, Reek. It's a bath. For you. Remove those rags. Now." Kimizuki looks at the seemingly safe tub of water, unwilling to let his guard down. He is terrified this is another trick. But, he complies and removes his shirt.  His entire torso is covered with scars from every weapon imaginable, some not even fully healed.  "The britches, too, Reek. Take them off." Ky Luc commands.  An overwhelming sense of shame overtakes Kimizuki as he looks down and knows there is no other option. He undoes the tie and lets his pants fall to the ground. Ky Luc's face is overtaken by a pleased smile at his full handiwork as he looks at Kimizuki's especially affected area and the shame that his creation shows.   Once he looks back up, Ky Luc raises a hand to gesture him towards the tub.  Kimizuki hobbles and grunts as he tumbles towards the bath. He looks at the water, unsure if it is all a mirage. He brings a hand down onto the edge before climbing in. The water feels warm and perfect on his skin. He lets out a sigh of relief before looking back at Ky Luc and returning his eyes downcast when the man walks to the left side of the tub. He sits on the edge and looks at Kimizuki.  When Kimizuki looks up at him, he smiles. When Ky Luc moves his hand Kimizuki bristles and looks down as he dips the sponge in the water.  He takes the cloth and begins to wash Kimizuki's back. Kimizuki lets out a gasp and jumps up. "Do you love me, Reek?" Ky Luc asks him, sinisterly.  Kimizuki gapes up at the man, "Yes, of course, My Lord." "Good. Because I need you to do something for me. Something very important. There's a castle, you see. Some bad men hold this castle. I need your help to take this castle back." Ky Luc tells him slowly.  Kimizuki looks up in fear and uncertainty, "But how can I-" "I need you to play a role. To pretend to be someone you're not." "Pretend to be whom?" Kimizuki looks up, like a lost puppy.  "Shihou Kimizuki." Ky Luc smiles evilly at him.  Shinjuku - Meeridan On a mountainous, grassy field near Meeridan, a goatherd tends to his flock with his son. The grass is a brown-green with many black-grey rocks surrounding the area with a sizeable stream of water pouring from a waterfall.  The son skips a rock on the river for amusement. His father continues to keep the flock moving and feeding.  The son skips one last rock before squinting at something in the distance coming closer, almost like a black blur before it disappears downward.  The boy looks down before an enormous Makoton, the size of a small hut emerges from below, flying above the boy on the cliff as the goats try to run away.  The boy crawls back, terrified. But, Makoton flies over him towards where a large amount of goats are running.  Makoton blows fire on an entire section of the field before grabbing a freshly cooked goat and leaving the burnt field and flock in his wake as he flies away. In the Great Pyramid of Meeridan, Mikaela Shindo is seated at the top of the steps on a backless flat chair. His hair is down with the five braids in his hair. He is clad in a dress made of an all blue design with embedded dragon scales from the hips up and around his waist. He has an opening where a white chiffon skirt covers in an archway style. He is wearing a two-piece dragon-tooth necklace that covers the back of his neck only to display them on his chest. Ser Lacus stands to his left and Lord Guren to his right. Akane is further away from them on the side while Brown Dog stands guard.  The goatherd stands before the omega, his head down and carrying a burlap sack.  "You stand before Mikaela Fireborn of the House Shindo, the First of His Name, Queen of Meeridan, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons." Akane announces for all in the room to hear.  "Don't be afraid, my friend." Mika says in Valyrian. The goatherd remains motionless with his head bowed.  "The Queen says you may approach and speak." Akane says.  The goatherd steps forward with his head still bowed and ascends the steps while speaking Valyrian. He stops not too far up.  Mika follows along while Akane translates, "He is a goatherd. He says he prayed for your victory against the slave masters." "I thank him for his prayers." Mika says.  Akane translates Mika's sentiments to the man. The goatherd then places his bundle on the ground. He uncovers it to reveal the charred carcass of his goat. He begins to speak Valyrian again.  Akane tenses, "It was your dragons, he says. They came this morning for his flock." Mika tenses, as well. He's losing control of his children and now he is realizing it.  "He hopes he has not offended Your Grace, but now he has nothing." Akane translates.  "Tell this man I am sorry for his hardship. I cannot bring back his goats." Mika says as Akane translates. "But, I will see he is paid their value three times over." The goatherd bows his head and kneels before Mika to cover up the goat and pick it up. He begins to speak Valyrian excitedly. Akane smiles at Mika who looks at the man in amused astonishment with a smile.  "Send the next one in." Mika says to Brown Dog.  A noble man around Lord Guren's age enters followed by a less well-dressed man. The noble man is clad in blue and white robes with golden jewelry, he has curly hair as he enters with the other man.  "The noble Hizakh lo Doraj begs an audience with the Queen." The manservant says.  "The noble Hizakh lo Doraj can speak to me himself." Mika says.  The manservant retreats as the noble comes forward and bows.  "Queen Mikaela. Tales of your beauty were not exaggerated." Hizakh lo Doraj says.  "I thank you." Mika says.  "Mine is one of the oldest and proudest families in Meeridan." Hizakh lo Doraj says.  "Then it is my honor to receive you." Mika says. "My father, one of Meeridan's most respected and beloved citizens, oversaw the restoration and maintenance of its greatest landmarks. This pyramid included." Hizakh lo Doraj says. "For that, he has my gratitude. I should be honored to meet him." Mika says, already catching a bad feeling from this interaction. "You have, Your Grace. You crucified him. I pray you'll never live to see a member of your family treated so cruelly." Hizakh lo Doraj says. "Your father crucified innocent children." Mika says. "My father spoke out against crucifying those children. He decried it as a criminal act, but was overruled. Is it justice to answer one crime with another?" Hizakh lo Doraj says. "I am sorry you no longer have a father, but my treatment of the masters was no crime. I gave them a fair trial, which some advised me against. You'd be wise to remember that." Mika says, "If your father was outspoken against crucifying those children, why did you not come to his defense at the trial? There were others who were found not guilty from testimony of former slaves and others.""I was out of the city on business in Asshain. What's done is done." Hizakh lo Doraj says dismissively. "You are the Queen and I am a servant of Meeridan. A servant who does not wish to see its traditions eradicated.""And what traditions do you speak of?" Mika asks hesitantly. "The tradition of funeral rite. Proper burial in the Temple of the Graces. My father and 162 noble Meerinese are still nailed to those posts, carrion for vultures, rotting in the sun." Hizakh lo Doraj says before kneeling. "Your Grace, I ask that you order these men taken down so that they might receive proper burials.""And what of the slave children these noble Meerinese crucified?" Mika proses, "They were rotting in the sun as well. Would you have begged me for their right to a proper burial?""Your Grace, I cannot defend the actions of the masters. I can only speak to you as a son who loved his father. Let me take his body down. Let me have him brought to the temple and buried with dignity so that he might find peace in the next world." Hizakh lo Doraj pleads. Mika's resolve crumbles as the man speaks, his face softening and growing more filled with sadness, "Bury your father, Hizakh lo Doraj.""Thank you, my queen." Hizakh lo Doraj says, humbly. Mika nods him off. Hizakh lo Doraj stands and backs off the steps before turning to leave with his manservant following after him."How many more?" Mika asks. "There are two-hundred and twelve supplicants waiting, Your Grace." Akane says. "Two-hundred and twelve?" Mika says slowly as though he is a man finding out he has to fight a war and win right this very minute, like he's bracing himself as the realization of the weight of his choices finally hits him. The weight of what it means to be Queen and actually rule finally registers in Mika's mind. He looks to Ser Lacus, who only shrugs. Mika sighs tiredly before looking at the entrance to the throne room with a resolute determination, "Send the next one in." Shibuya In the small council meeting chambers, Mahiru, Sycelle, Yukimi, Yukio Inoue, and Prince Basteya wait impatiently for Lord Tetsuo to arrive. Mahiru paces around the room.  Basteya taps his fingers against the table, "These meetings aren't always going to be this early, are they? I was up late last night. So, does this mean I am a Master of something now? Coins, ships?" "Lord Tetsuo and I already determined that I shall be the Master of Ships long before you-" Lord Yukio starts.  Lord Tetsuo enters the chambers as all rise for him, except Basteya. The alpha takes his place at the head of the table.  "Lord Tetsuo, it's a great honor to have been granted a seat on this council. I-" Lord Yukio begins before everyone sits causing him to be cut off as the meeting party ignores him.  "The trial begins this afternoon. We only have the morning for affairs of state. Shall we begin?" Lord Tetsuo says. "Aoi Sanguu has been spotted in the Riverlands, My Lord." Yukimi purposefully does not mention the little girl seen with her that has been said to be her mirror's image.  "A coward and a traitor." Mahiru mutters.  "My birds tell me the Hound slaughtered five of our soldiers. I believe the phrase "fuck the king" was uttered." Yukimi says.  "Disgraceful." Sycelle says.  "What would it take to make the common soldier stupid enough to try his luck with Sanguu?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "10 silver stags seems a generous bounty." Yukimi says nonchalantly. "Make it 100. What else?" Lord Tetsuo dismisses.  "More whispers from the east, My Lord." Yukimi says.  "The Shindo boy?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "Mikaela has taken up residence in Meeridan. He has conquered the city and rules as its queen." Yukimi says.  "Conquered with what?" Mahiru asks.  "He commands an army of Untainted, my Queen. Some 8,000 strong. He has a company of sellswords-the Second Sons. He has two knights advising him-Lacus Welt and another. And he has three dragons." Yukimi explains, knowing she has to give them something. "Baby dragons." Mahiru says. "Larger every year, Your Grace." Yukimi says.  "Welt is spying on him for us." Sycelle says.  "No longer. He appears to be fully devoted to her. As for the other knight, I could not get a name, but he has been said to have features similar to Guren Ichinose." Yukimi says.  "That's impossible." Mahiru says. "Guren has been dead for almost four years." "They say he only resembles him." Yukimi says.  Mahiru only shrugs and turns to Lord Tetsuo, "Don't tell me you're worried about a child halfway across the world." "A child with at least one seasoned warrior counseling him and a powerful army at his back, Your Grace." Yukimi says.  "Lady Yukimi is right. I have been to the Bay of Slaves and seen the Untainted firsthand. They are very impressive on the battlefield. Less so in the bedroom." Basteya says.  "Dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time. He must be dealt with." Lord Tetsuo says.  "How, My Lord?" Sycelle asks. "By force?" "Eventually, if it comes to that. Can your little birds find their way into Meeridan?" Lord Tetsuo asks Yukimi.  "Most certainly, my Lord Hand." Yukimi says. "Lord Inoue, be a good man. Fetch my quill and paper." Lord Tetsuo hums and orders as the man rushes to comply.  In the Seraphin Throne room, Lady Yukimi arrives early to the trial to find one other there.  "Prince Basteya." "Lady Yukimi." "Only Yukimi. I'm not actually a noblewoman. No one is under obligation to call me Lady." Yukimi says.  "And yet everyone does." Basteya says.  "You seem quite knowledgeable about the Untainted. Did you spend much time in the Bay of Slaves?" "Five years." Basteya responds.  "May I ask why?" Yukimi probes.  "'We are in a big and beautiful world. Most of us live and die in the same corner where we were born and never get to see any of it. I don't want to be most of us." Basteya says.  "Most of us aren't princes." Yukimi says. "You are from Shinjuku. Where? Kyrna?" Basteya asks as Yukimi squints in curiosity he continues. "I have an ear for accents."  "I've lost my accent entirely." Yukimi says.  "I have an ear for that as well. How did you get here?" Basteya interrogates.  "It's a long story." Yukimi says.  "One you don't like telling people." Basteya says.  "People I trust." Yukimi shrugs.  "My paramour Eliana, she would find you very interesting. You should come to the brothel and meet her. We brought our own wine, not the swill they serve here. We have some lovely boys on retainer, alphas and betas, but..." Basteya trails off.  Yukimi remains silent.  "You did like it? Being with an alpha or a beta?" Basteya says.  Yukimi shakes her head.  "Really? Omegas? Hmm. I hope you won't be offended when I say I never would have guessed." Basteya says.  "Not at all. But I was never interested in omegas, either." Yukimi says. "What then?" "Nothing." Yukimi says simply.  "Everybody is interested in something." Basteya says, almost confounded.  "Not me. When I see what desire does to people, what it's done to this country, I am very glad to have no part in it. Besides, the absence of desire leaves one free to pursue other things." Yukimi shrugs.  "Such as?" Basteya questions.  Yukimi only looks over to the Seraphin Throne in all of its glory. She gives him one last glance before walking past and leaving him to ponder.  In the dungeons, Kureto opens one of the small dark metal windows on the door to peek in.  He spots Shinya in his black clothes sitting and waiting on his horrible bed. Shinya gets up at the sight as Kureto turns back to tell the guard to open the door.  Kureto opens the door and walks in with his gold-plated armor, his face a stoic mask.  "Let me guess, I've been pardoned." Shinya says.  Kureto nods an order to the guards behind him and they move to slip the manacles onto Shinya's hands.  "Really?" Shinya asks in disbelief.  "Uncle's orders." Kureto says.  "Well, we mustn't disappoint Uncle." Shinya says as Kureto moves to lead him to the throne room. The doors to the throne room opens, Kureto bounds down the steps with Shinya following close behind flanked by two guards. Their armor clanks as they climb down the steps. The floor is made in an aisle leading to the dais where people surround the aisle with a clear walkway. People sit on wooden stands at different levels as they watch the proceedings.   "Sisterfucker!" A man shouts in the distance.  Shinya and Kureto make their way to the stand as, the omega's face remaining hardened and bitter. He looks up and sees Tyuri on the Seraphin Throne with Lord Tetsuo by his side.  Shinya is helped onto the accused dais before they chain his manacles to the stand. Kureto and the guards leave him standing before the new King. Shinya turns to look at the crowd and take measure of the room.  Tyuri stands at Lord Tetsuo's look causing the crowd to rise, as well. Shinya turns back to the front.  The throne is flanked by two chairs on the same level where Lord Inoue sits on the left and Prince Basteya on the right. Mahiru sits further from Lord Inoue on a lower level. Rika and Reo are to the further right.  "I, Tyuri of the House Hiiragi, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Six Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tetsuo of the House Hiiragi, Hand of the King, and Protector of the Realm will sit as judge in my stead. And with him Prince Basteya of the House Irclu and Lord Yukio of the House Inoue. And if found guilty..." Tyuri looks at his uncle, who's face softens slightly at him, "May the gods punish the accused." Tyuri in his golden crown makes his way down the steps and passes one lingering glance to his uncle before leaving with his guard. Kureto nods to him from the side.   Basteya and Lord Inoue take their seats with Lord Tetsuo sitting on the Seraphin Throne. Everyone takes their seats, as well.  "Shinya of the House Hiiragi, you stand accused by the Queen Regent of regicide. Did you kill King Takashi?" Lord Tetsuo says.  "No." Shinya shakes his head.  "Did your sister, Lady Shinoa?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "Not that I know of." Shinya answers with a slight shrug.  "How would you say he died, then?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "Choked on his pigeon pie." Shinya says, uninterested as his anger boils underneath the façade. Kureto looks at him admonishingly.  "So you would blame the bakers?" Lord Tetsuo levels.  "Or the pigeons. Just leave me out of it." Shinya says tensely. Mahiru glares at him in her dark dress. "The crown may call its first witness." Lord Tetsuo concedes.  In the throne room, Fuola Honte is placed on the witness stand diagonal from Shinya. Shinya stews on the side as he glares with hatred at the man who only looks at him smugly the entire time.  "Once we'd got King Takashi safely away from the mob, the omega rounded on him. He slapped the King across the face and called him a vicious idiot and a fool. It wasn't the first time the omega threatened King Takashi. Right here in this throne room, he marched up those steps and called our king a halfwit. Compared His Grace to the Mad King and suggested he'd meet the same fate. And when I spoke in the King's defense, he threatened to have me killed." Fuola Honte says as the crowd hangs off his every word. Honte glances back at Shinya who has decided he's had enough of the man's horseshit.   "Oh, why don't you tell them what Takashi was doing?" Shinya says.  "Silence!" Lord Tetsuo shouts.  But, Shinya only continues to talk louder, "Pointing a loaded crossbow at Shinoa Hiiragi while you tore at her clothes and beat her." "Silence! You will not speak unless called upon." Lord Tetsuo shouts at Shinya, "You're dismissed, Ser Fuola." Ser Fuola climbs off the witness stand and has a smug look on his face as he crosses past Shinya's hateful glare.  Next on the witness stand, the old curmudgeon Grand Maester Sycelle takes his place for a testimonial.  "Basilisk venom, widow's blood, wolfsbane, essence of nightshade, sweet-sleep, tears of Kyrn, demon's dance, blind eye-" Sycelle lists off a piece of paper.  "I think you have made your point, Grand Maester. You have a lot of poison in your store." Prince Basteya tries to shut him up.  "Had, Prince Basteya. My stores were plundered." Sycelle says.  "By whom?" Lord Tetsuo asks. "By the accused, Shinya Hiiragi, after he had me wrongfully imprisoned." Sycelle says, glaring at Shinya.  Shinya can only gape in somewhat amused disbelief at the lengths that cunt, Mahiru went to make sure he loses his head.  "Grand Maester, you examined King Takashi's corpse. Was it without question poison that killed him?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "Without question." Grand Maester Sycelle says.  The crowd murmurs amongst themselves around Shinya as Sycelle removes a necklace from around his neck. Rika's eyes shut as she pulls her black shawl tighter against her matching gown.  "This was found on the body of Kaito Hayashi, the King's fool. He was last seen spiriting Shinoa Hiiragi, the close sister of the accused, away from the feast. She wore this necklace the day of the wedding. Residue of a most rare and terrible poison was found inside." Sycelle says.  "Was this one of the poisons stolen from your store?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "It was. The Strangler. A poison few in the Six Kingdoms possess. And used to strike down the noblest child the gods ever put on this good earth." Sycelle grits out with seething hate towards Shinya.  Shinya can only keep his eyes downcast, even as the disbelief fills Kureto and Rika who knew Takashi's character and honor.  The crowd murmurs amongst themselves. Kureto looks at a defeated and hate-filled Shinya as Basteya wavers. The royal bitch, herself takes the stand as Mahiru is placed on the witness podium. Her chair now emptied as she leans on the edges of the dais. Shinya remains silent as the rage builds within. Murmurs of the "Great Beauty of the West" go around the room. """I will hurt you for this. A day will come when you think you are safe and happy and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth and you will know the debt is paid."" Mahiru repeats the words Shinya told her almost two years ago.  "Your own brother said this to you?" Lord Inoue says in legitimate shock. Mahiru nods with watery eyes at remembrance of Takashi, "Shortly before the Battle of Bluewater Bay. I confronted him about his plans to put Takashi on the front lines. As it turned out, when the attack came, Tak insisted on remaining at the battlements. He believed his presence would inspire the troops."  "Shinya said, "And you will know the debt is paid." What debt?" Prince Basteya inquires. "It is no longer an old tale. But, my brother had a lifelong salacious affair with my former betrothed, the Kingslayer, Guren Ichinose. He and the traitor carried on together for years even when I was promised to him. Their relationship was one of an intimate nature. When he found out I was to kill that traitor for treason, he wasn't pleased." Mahiru says.  Shinya can only shake his head at how his smug foolishness has come to bite him in the ass.   "Thank you, Your Grace, for the courage of your testimony." Lord Inoue says.  Rika only sighs as Mahiru avoids Shinya's gaze while climbing down the steps of the stand. Kureto watches the omega as she sits.  Mahiru's eyes lock onto Shinya's both reflecting the cold, murderous hatred they have for each other.  Lord Tetsuo stands from his chair and declares, "We will adjourn for now." The three judges stand.  "Toll the bells in an hour's time." Lord Tetsuo commands.  "Clear the court!" A guard shouts as the crowd stands. Shinya looks around. The omega's eyes find Kureto's who turns to find Mahiru's hate-filled, moist eyes turn from Shinya to him.  Shinya finally sits, dejected when he is left all alone in the throne room.  In Lord Tetsuo's chambers, the man sits at his table to enjoy his lunch of roasted pheasant. Kureto stands before the man. He has come to plea Shinya's case since the omega is too drained and incapacitated to do so himself.  "You'd condemn your own nephew to death?" Kureto asks.  "I've condemned no one. The trial is not over." Lord Tetsuo says.  "This isn't a trial. It's a farce. Mahiru has manipulated everything and you know it." Kureto tells him.  "I know nothing of the sort." Lord Tetsuo says.  "You've always hated Shinya." Kureto says.  "He killed his King." Lord Tetsuo says.  "As did we." Kureto says.  "Guren was the one who landed the blow." Lord Tetsuo says.  "But, you and father were the ones who would have done it if he had remained docile for a second until we arrived." Kureto says. "This will be murder." "It won't be murder. It'll be justice." "Justice?" Kureto asks in disbelief.  "I'm performing my sworn duty as Hand of the King. If Shinya is found guilty, he will be punished accordingly." Lord Tetsuo says.  "He'll be executed."  "No, he'll be punished accordingly." Lord Tetsuo corrects.  "Once you said family is what lives on. All that lives on. You told me about a dynasty that would last 1,000 years. What happens to your dynasty when Shinya dies? I'm a Kingsguard, forbidden by oath to carry on the family line." Kureto says.  "I'm well aware of your oath." "What happens to your name? Who carries the lion banner into future battles? Your bastard? Hozumi Iwasaki?" Kureto says.  "What happens to my dynasty if I spare the life of my grandson's killer?" Lord Tetsuo says.  Kureto looks at the man and knows he just may be saying the stupidest thing he will ever. He has to do this to repay Shinya for the way he's always treated him when the omega has only ever helped him when he needed it. He has to save him, the way Shinya saved him by launching the wildfire at Bluewater Bay. "It survives through me. I'll leave the Kingsguard. I'll take my place as heir to Hakone if you let Shinya live." "Why are you doing this now?" Lord Tetsuo asks, surprised for once at a move he did not anticipate, "For him?" "Repaying debts as a Hiiragi does." Kureto says.  "Done." Lord Tetsuo says to a speechless Kureto, "When the testimonies have concluded and a guilty verdict rendered, Shinya will be given the chance to speak. He'll plead for mercy. I'll allow him to join the Watch. In three days' time, he'll depart for Nagoya and live out his days at the Wall alone and under the protection of the Hanayori's. You'll remove your white cloak immediately. You will leave Shibuya to assume your rightful place at Hiiragi Rock. You will marry a suitable omega and father children named Hiiragi. And you'll never turn your back on your family again."  "You have my word." Kureto agrees.  "And you have mine." Lord Tetsuo nods. The bell begins to toll causing Kureto to exit and Lord Tetsuo to finish his wine.  In the Throne Room, the crowd begins to retake their seats on the stand as Shinya rises.  Kureto enters and makes his way over to Shinya who turns to him.  "Not going well, is it?" Shinya asks.  "You're going to be found guilty." Kureto tells him.  "Oh, you think so?" Shinya says sardonically.  "When you are, you need to enter a formal plea for mercy and ask to be sent to the Wall. Father's agreed to it. He'll spare your life and allow you to join the Night's Watch. He'll ensure you are protected and taken care of by the Hanayori's." Kureto says.  "Guren was promised the same thing and we both know how that turned out." Shinya says as the realization hits him that he most likely will never see Guren again.  Mahiru enters and glares at the sight of her brothers whispering as she retakes her seat.  "Father is not Takashi. He'll keep his word." Kureto tries to reassure Shinya.  "How do you know?" Shinya says, but their conversation is cut short.  The three judges return and sit down in their respective chairs after the crowd rises. "Do you trust me?" Kureto whispers.  "Strangely." Shinya nods.  "Then, for once in your life, keep your mouth shut. No more outbursts. This will all be over soon." Kureto says.  Kureto retakes his place to the right of the steps.   "The crown may call its next witness." Lord Tetsuo declares.  Shinya turns at the sound of dainty footsteps and his eyes widen at the sight of Yukimi somehow being coerced into this. His closest friend and a person he thought he could always trust. Yukimi keeps her gaze straight ahead as she takes the witness stand.  "State your name." Lord Tetsuo says.  "Shigure Yukimi."  "And what is your title?" "The Master of Whispers." Yukimi says.  "Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?" Lord Tetsuo says.  "I swear it." Yukimi agrees.  "Do you know this man well?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  Yukimi nods, "Shinya Hiiragi, we serve on the council together." "Is that all there is to your relationship?" Basteya asks.  "Yes, I found out information about him and I have not spoken to him since I did." Yukimi says as Shinya sinks back into the stand in utter despair. Mahiru can only look triumphant as she watches her brother fall further into his pit of melancholy.  "What was the nature of this disagreement?" Lord Inoue asks. "I found out that he was conspiring and planning to murder the King Takashi Hiiragi." Lady Yukimi says as the crowd gasps loudly with murmuring going off all around, "I heard whispers from my little birds that he was planning to poison Takashi Hiiragi using Shinoa as an easy way to do so." "Are your little birds not children? How accurate can this be?" Prince Basteya asks.  "If it came from one, it would be something." Yukimi says, "But, I had five of my little birds return with information that Lord Hiiragi was planning to murder King Takashi in some way." "Are you saying that he is guilty of murdering King Takashi?" Lord Tetsuo asks.  "I believe he is the one who did so." Yukimi nods.  "Did Lady Shinoa have any knowledge or involvement with the plans?" Prince Basteya asks.  "I would not know that, My Lord." Lady Yukimi says, "She was only a part of that plan with the poison, otherwise the only name mentioned was Lord Hiiragi's." Shinya feels the bitter resentment, fury, and betrayal finally taking shape and rising in his body.  "Why did you wait so long to say anything?" Prince Basteya asks.  "I had only recently found out after checking with my little birds, and so I confided in the Queen." Lady Yukimi says, "She insisted I take the stand to voice the truth." Shinya glares hatefully at Mahiru as his face scrunches up.  The murmuring of the crowd has only grown louder.  "Silence! Continue." Lord Tetsuo urges. "Why would he want to kill King Takashi?" "He wanted revenge for his lover. He blamed his death on the King. He hated Takashi. He hated the Queen. He hated you, My Lord." Yukimi rattles off. "My little bird told me he saw him steal poison from the Grand Maester's chamber to put in Takashi's wine." "How did Lord Shinya treat you?" Lord Inoue asked, "You said he was your friend and you were very close." "He treated me almost like he owned me. He never desired me, but he told me that no one would ever. He only used and talked to me when he needed something done for him." Yukimi says, "He made many comments about the state of my womb and my ability to never bear children. He treated me like I was his property to use as he wanted to."  Shinya is shrunken down in the dais, struggling to restrain tears as he feels the sting of the betrayal and lies. He weakly and quietly lets out, "Shigure." Yukimi turns to face him.  "Shigure, Please. Stop." Shinya's face begs, but his words instill all of his pleading that his best friend not continue to lie about him to get him killed. "I am nothing, and can give nothing of mine to this world." Yukimi turns back and continues, "But, if the right man who committed this atrocity is punished, justice will be served. Shinya Hiiragi wanted to kill Takashi for Shinoa, after the way he treated her and if you want to talk to my little birds, as well. They will gladly tell you the many ways the he killed the King and the one that succeeded." Shinya looks down, completely broken, betrayed, and defeated. Kureto looks at his brother, worried. Mahiru looks gratified as she watches him crumble.   "Uncle, I wish to confess." Shinya says before looking up to Lord Tetsuo and speaking louder. "I wish...to confess."  "You wish to confess?" Lord Tetsuo asks as Kureto looks at Shinya in shock.  Shinya looks up and around at everyone in the crowd and at those on the steps above him, his voice is entirely bitter when he speaks with a sneer, "I saved you. I saved this city and all your worthless lives. I should have let Seishirou kill you all." The crowd clamors and shouts.  "Shinya, do you wish to confess?" Lord Tetsuo asks Shinya who turns to face him.  "Yes, Uncle. I'm guilty. Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?" Shinya says his face filled with a relief-filled, manic slight grin."You admit you poisoned the King?" Lord Tetsuo asks. "No, of that I'm innocent. I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being an omega." Shinya says"You are not on trial for being an omega." Lord Tetsuo says."Oh, yes, I am. But, not just that. I'm an omega with nothing that was brought from an orphanage by Tenri Hiiragi to be made into a legitimate omegan son along with his trueborn children. I've been on trial for that my entire life." Shinya bites out with a sneer.  "Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Lord Tetsuo asks. "Nothing but this-I did not do it. I did not kill Takashi, but I wish that I had." Shinya shouts at the entire court before his fury-filled eyes land on Mahiru. "Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than 1,000 lays with Guren."Shinya turns fully to address the crowd with scorn filling his voice, "I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you. I would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it." The crowds shouts of anger and clamors grow louder. The crowd only gets more uproarious by the minute.Lord Tetsuo stands, "Ser Fuola. Ser Fuola. Escort the prisoner back to his cell." "I will not give my life for Takashi's murder. And I know I'll get no justice here. So I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat." Shinya declares.The crowd clamors and roars of disbelief and shock fill the room as it only rises from there.  Rika and Reo look towards Lord Tetsuo. Yukimi glances back at the crowd and looks back to the head judge on the throne.  Prince Basteya leans forward in his seat, a slight look of intrigue taking over his face.  Kureto swallows and sighs silently, closing his eyes and looking down in defeat and simultaneous relief.  Mahiru's nails dig into the ends of the chair's handles as a cold, loathing glare overtakes her face as she aims it towards Shinya.  Shinya's breath heaves slightly, but remains unheard over the crowd. He looks up in solemn defiance and determination as a small, triumphant smile overtakes his face. Lord Tetsuo can only coldly glare with seething resentment at the omega who has upended and destroyed yet another one of his plans to secure his House's future. He looks down at Shinya's triumphant slight grin. The omega knows he's won this challenge and upset his family the only way that he truly can, and for that he feels like the greatest winner despite the remaining uncertain circumstances. He allows the relief he feels from letting it all out overtake him as he looks up at his Uncle who glares down at him.  

The following morning, Foggy reluctantly woke the still dopey Matt. “Hey, Matty.”  Matt gave a grunt that clearly said, I hear you, but please go away now.  “Matt, I know you probably feel like shit and want to keep sleeping, but I have to remind you about last night.” He continued quickly while he had Matt’s attention. “Daisy needs to go to the vet to get her paw looked at.”   Matt rolled over and mumbled, “Daisy?”  “She cut her paw. She’s okay. Claire got the glass out, but she needs to get it checked by a vet. She might need antibiotics or something. I can take her, but I thought you might want to come too.”  “Yes, yes of course,” Matt said, struggling upright and searching for the dog.  “Also, we have that appointment to see Fisk this afternoon. If you’re too tired, I can go alone or we can try and reschedule-”  “No, I’ll come,” Matt said quickly just as Daisy burrowed out from beneath a pile of blanket. He put a gentle hand on Daisy’s back and brushed the back of his hand down her leg to the bandage Claire had wrapped around Daisy’s paw. “How-how-”  “It wasn’t your fault, Matt,” Foggy started, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to Matt. He was predictably distressed when he found out what happened. He refused to put Daisy down for the next half hour, going so far as to nurse her at the kitchen table while he had a morning coffee and searched for a nearby vet online. Eventually, Foggy pointed out that she had three other legs and would probably benefit from a visit outside to pee. Matt rushed upstairs with her under one arm so that Daisy could relieve herself on the rooftop doggy grass patch.    Foggy wasn’t happy about letting Matt take Daisy to the vet alone in his tired state, but they had back-to-back client meetings that morning and at least one of them needed to be at the office. Fortunately, Candy was working in the office that day and ended up sitting in on the meetings in Matt's place.  When Matt returned from the vet, Daisy under one arm, he was immediately swamped by Candy and Karen who cooed over Daisy. The dog squirmed, sick of being carried.  “You have a meeting with Harvey Savage in ten minutes, Matt,” Karen said as Matt struggle to keep a grip on the wriggling dog. “Do you want me to take Daisy?”  Matt shook his head, and carried her to his office, placing Daisy in her basket with the utmost care. Daisy immediately jumped out, giving a vigorous shake in protest. She limped over to Candy on three legs, trying and failing to jump up to say hi.   “Daisy, no,” Matt ordered, chasing after the dog. “Daisy, you need to lie down.”   Candy laughed and picked up the wagging dog. “Matt, she’s fine. She has three other legs. You just have to make sure she doesn’t chew through the bandage.”  “She had glass in her paw. She’s been through a trauma,” Matt replied.  “But she’ll survive,” Foggy said, emerging from his office. “How did it go?”  Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, good. Yeah. She got vaccinated for all sorts of stuff. I didn’t know – I didn’t…” He petered off, the guilt washing over him.  “If only they came with a manual, huh” Candy said. “We used to give our dog grapes all the time until we read just recently that grapes are poisonous for dogs.”  “What happened?” Matt whispered, his eyes wide.  “Nothing, he’s fine,” Candy said. “But we’re not going to give him grapes anymore.”  “Grapes,” Foggy repeated in disbelief.  Karen cleared her throat. “Uh, guys, your eleven o’clock is due any moment.”  “Oh, yeah, um, Candy, do you want to continue with Foggy on this one. I-I have something I need to do,” Matt said, grabbing Daisy from Candy’s arms and disappearing into his office.  When Karen knocked on Matt’s door ten minutes later, she was greeted with “did you know that dogs shouldn’t eat dried pasta or coffee?”  “Matt, have you ever thought about giving Daisy coffee?”  “No.”  “Well there you go,” Karen replied. “She’s safe.” Her mouth twitched at the sight of Daisy sitting on Matt’s lap, her head just poking up above the desk. “Uh, Matt, I wanted to talk to you about those lists.”  Matt stopped what he was doing and sat up straight. “Did you find anything?”  “Yeah,” Karen whispered. She placed a braille document in front of him, and he quickly skimmed it. As he got to the bottom of the list, she said, “you were right - the overlap between Fisk’s associates and the victims is too close to be an accident.”  Matt balled his left hand into a fist. “I knew it. It’s gotta be Fisk.”  “That’s the obvious answer, yes. But how’s he doing it?”  Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. Uh, you said obvious answer – does that mean-”  Karen leaned in and said in a whisper, “I mean maybe it’s just designed to look obvious. What if Fisk is being set up?”  “By whom?”  “Well that’s the question. Do you know anyone?”  Matt thought for a moment. “I just don’t know what’s to be gained by framing Fisk for a series of druggings. He’s already in jail, and he will be for a long time.” Matt combed his fingers through Daisy’s hair. “I’ll ask him this afternoon.”  “This afternoon? What’s happening this afternoon?”  “Oh, we didn’t tell you. We’re going to visit Fisk.”  “What?! When – why?”  “We only arranged it yesterday, and you were off doing, um-”  “Compiling this list for you,” Karen said pointedly.  “Yeah,” Matt said, giving her what he hoped was a distracting smile.  “I want to come.”  “No, that’s impossible, Karen,” Matt said quickly.  Karen crossed her arms. “Why, because I’m a woman?”  “No,” Matt spluttered. “Of course not. We-we only got permission for the two of us.”  “So Foggy’s in on it?”  Matt rubbed his forehead. “Karen, there’s no in on it. It’s – it’s just – please leave it. We’ll give you an overview when we return.” He gave Daisy’s ears a rub. “We need someone to look after Daisy and she loves you the best.” Matt gave her a small, hopeful smile.  “Great, the woman has to dogsit,” Karen muttered.  Matt exhaled through pursed lips. He decided to switch subject. “Kare, can- can you help me find the form for parking violation disputes?”  Karen did a double take at the change of topic. “Uh, sure. Is this for Mrs Lopez? I’ve already filled it out. I just need her signature.”  “Oh, uh, thanks,” Matt said. “What would I do without you?”  “You’re not going to get out of this with flattery, Murdock. Next time, I’m coming with you. I don’t want to be sidelined.”  Matt sighed. Between Foggy’s insistence on being his night time wingman, and Karen’s whatever-this-was, he was feeling a little suffocated. Things were much easier when Daredevil was a lone vigilante and he didn’t have to consult with someone at every turn. But to sate Karen, Matt gave a small nod. It seemed to satisfy her because she turned on her heels and left the office.    After the morning’s drama, the effects of the previous night’s seizure started to catch up on Matt and he fell asleep at his desk. Daisy was still curled up in his lap.  “It just keeps getting cuter,” Karen said to Foggy.  Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Cute isn’t the word I’d use. Ergh, I’m going to have to wake him up. We have to be at Rikers in an hour.”  “I could come instead,” Karen said, glancing sideways.  “Matt would kill me if I went without him. No, I’ll give him another ten minutes and then wake him up.”  “Seriously, Foggy. I don’t think he’d mind.”  Foggy turned and looked at Karen through narrowed eyes. “You’ve talked about this with Matt already, haven’t you?”  Karen crossed her arms and stared at him in defiance. “Yeah, so?”  “I’m going to wake him,” Foggy said, starting towards the door.  “Foggy, wait,” Karen said, pulling him back. She whispered, “yeah, I talked to him. He didn’t want me to go,” she paused, considering her next words, “but Foggy, I don’t like being sidelined like this. I’m part of this – as much a part as you two.”  “What did Matt say?”  Karen chewed her lip, hesitated then said, “you’d give me an overview when you return.”  “Exactly. We can even give you a detailed overview if you’d like. Besides, Candy needs the company and the help.”  Karen rolled her eyes and returned to her desk.  Foggy sighed and focused on the task of waking Matt instead. At times, the office felt like a battleground of competing personalities.      As Matt and Foggy were entering the secure part of the prison, Foggy stopped dead and tugged at Matt's sleeve. "That assistant DA you were talking to-"  "Kirsten McDuffie," Matt supplied.  "Yeah, she's here."  Matt tilted his head, listening to the discussion between Kirsten and the security staff.  "Matt, you can't do that," Foggy hissed. "You of all people know how important confidentiality is in this place."  "She's talking about recent breaches in security," Matt whispered back.  "That's not new," Foggy muttered.  "Yeah, but these are sophisticated ones. Cameras are switched off, recordings just disappear without a trace."  Foggy raised his eyebrows. "Let's talk about this later. We have an appointment to keep." Foggy started towards the security x-ray machine. "You coming, Matt?"  Matt was standing still with his head tipped down, deep in concentration.  "Matt," Foggy hissed.  Matt started. "Yeah, sorry, Fog." He caught up to Foggy and took his arm.    As they passed through the x-ray machine, Kirsten spotted them. "The Hell's Kitchen attorney duo," she said. "It's Kirsten, we met the other day," she added for Matt's benefit.  Matt smiled. "I recognise your voice."  "Oh," Kirsten said, looking surprised but flattered at the same time. "Who are you here to see? I thought you only defended the innocent."  The two men remained silent for a moment, both trying to work out whether it was wise to reveal the reason for their visit. Eventually Matt said, "Fisk. Wilson Fisk."  Kirsten stared. "I didn't realise-"  They were interrupted by a booming voice behind them. "Mr Murdock, Mr Nelson."  "Mr Donovan," Matt replied with a nod.   "Sorry for keeping you waiting. I'll need to talk to you for a few moments before we proceed."  Kirsten watched the exchange with interest. Benjamin Donovan - Fisk’s lawyer - completely ignored her, turning his back on her as he ushered Matt and Foggy into an adjacent room.  Mr Donovan shut the door behind them. "We can never be too sure." He pulled a couple of pieces of paper from a leather-bound folder, handing Foggy and printed agreement, and Matt a braille version. "Mr Fisk insisted I cater to your particular disability, Mr Murdock. He's a very considerate man." Matt turned the paper up the right way before scanning the contract at speed.   “You will refer to Mr Fisk only as Mr Fisk and you will not ask any questions until I personally approve of them first. You will not discuss this meeting or its content with anyone. He doesn't have to do this, Mr Murdock and Mr Nelson, just remember that." He gave them a broad smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.  “That’s a lot of rules,” Matt said.  “Rules are what separate us from the animals, Mr Murdock.”  Matt pulled out a pen and signed the contract before handing Foggy the pen. Foggy hesitated, worried about the details of the agreement. "Do you have a problem, Mr Nelson?"  "Uh, no, it's fine," Foggy said, scribbling his name at the bottom of the paper and handing the contract to Mr Donovan.  "Follow me," Mr Donovan instructed.  They walked through the labyrinthine corridors in silence. Matt could hear Foggy's heartbeat quicken as they wandered further and further away from the visiting area.  As they passed through a set of heavy double doors, one of the guards said, "Dakoda one" into his radio. Matt heard the reply, "copy. Enacted." The cryptic exchange sent a shiver down Matt's spine, and he increased the grip on Foggy's arm.  Matt eventually caught the heavy breathing that could only be Fisk's. As they passed through the door, Mr Donovan said, "mind the cane."  Foggy replied, "he's allowed the cane under ADA rules."  "Foggy, it's fine," Matt said, handing over the cane, which was then passed to a waiting guard. Matt kept a hold of Foggy's arm as they entered the room.  "Five minutes," Mr Donovan said, closing the door. He stood behind the Foggy and Matt, just out of range of Foggy’s peripheral vision. It was unnerving.  "Mr Murdock, Mr Nelson," Fisk said.  "Mr Fisk," Matt replied with a nod.  Staring straight at Foggy, Fisk sat back in his chair and said, "for what do I owe the pleasure?"  Foggy opened his mouth, but Matt beat him to it. "We want to know about your involvement in the druggings that have occurred of late."  “You don’t have to answer that, Mr Fisk,” Mr Donovan interrupted.  Fisk smirked. "It’s fine, Mr Donovan.” He turned back to Matt. “Mr Murdock, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."  "Impossible," Foggy said. "Dozens of your old associates have been jailed thanks to the drug’s psychosis-inducing effects."  Fisk leaned back in his seat and waited.  Matt said, "how are you doing it? Who are your contacts on the outside?"  "I told you, I have no idea what you're talking about."  "But you do," Matt insisted more forcefully. "You know exactly what we're talking about. What is your involvement?"  "I have no involvement. Ask the guards, ask my fellow inmates. I do not have that kind of reach in here."  Matt listened intently to Fisk's heartbeat. His heartbeat revealed the lie of his earlier statement. He had heard about the druggings, there was no doubt. But this last statement was different. Either he was a master of concealment or he really was telling the truth: he really wasn't involved in the druggings.  Matt decided to try a different tack. "But you have some guards working for you. That guard who turned off the security cameras as soon as we walked in, for instance."  Fisk raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid this meeting has come to an end." He called out, “Mr Donovan, escort these two men out of here please."  "Vanessa," Matt said, leaning forward.  "Wait," Fisk said to Mr Donovan. "Leave us."  Mr Donovan approached the table. “Mr Fisk, I highly recommend-”  “Leave us,” Mr Fisk repeated, more forcefully this time. Mr Donovan looked between Matt and Foggy and then back at Fisk before silently leaving the room.  Fisk lowered his voice. "What about Vanessa?"  Matt paused, listening to the change in Fisk’s heartbeat. Eventually he said, "Vanessa - she was involved in your criminal activity. Maybe she still is. What's her involvement in your continued criminal enterprise, Mr Fisk?"  "Leave Vanessa out of this," Fisk growled.  "Ah, but you see I can't. And I have more than enough evidence to put her away."  Foggy put his hand on Matt's knee and whispered, "Matt, don't." Matt shook Foggy's hand away.  "A quick call to the DA’s office is all it takes,” Matt said, clicking his fingers. “You see, I think she's involved in this somehow. And when I find out-"  Matt's threat was interrupted by a roar of rage from Fisk. He pulled his wrists out of unlocked handcuffs, and leaned across the table. Before either Matt or Foggy could react, Fisk slammed Matt's head hard against the table.   Foggy screamed, "no, get off him. Help!" He tried to pull Fisk's arms away, but Fisk hit Foggy in the nose before smashing Matt's head against the table again. Foggy yelled, "help, guards," but it seemed like Matt was right about the guards being in his pocket. No one came, no one saw, no one cared. Foggy wrapped his body around Matt's head, protecting him from another injury. For some reason - and Foggy had no idea why – Matt wasn't fighting back.  Fisk stood back and brushed his hands against his sleeves as if wiping germs off his skin. With a grunt, he walked out of the room, leaving Foggy huddled around Matt. "Are you okay, Matt?" Foggy whispered.   Matt wiped his bleeding nose with his sleeve and croaked, "yeah, fine."  "Here, Matt. I have a tissue," Foggy said, rummaging in his pocket. A drop of blood landed on his hand and he realised that his nose was bleeding too. "Ergh," he moaned.  Matt suddenly cottoned onto the fact that Foggy was injured too. "Foggy – what happened. A-are you okay?"  "Yeah, but we have matching noses now," Foggy replied, his voice muffled by the tissue. “Why didn’t you fight back?”  “I-I-I don’t know what happened,” Matt said weakly. “I-I'm sorry, Fog. I shouldn't have put you in danger like that."  "It wasn't wise to goad him like that, but you weren't to know that the handcuffs were unlocked," Foggy said. He hesitated, "did you know they were unlocked?"  Matt shook his head. "My concentration was elsewhere." He swallowed. "Let's get out of here. It's not safe." He stood up and stumbled slightly, his head still spinning.  "Take my arm. We're going to the hospital."  "No, Foggy, we can't."  "We can and we will. Your head just got slammed against a hard surface. Twice. You need to be checked for another brain injury. You're lucky your glasses didn't smash and cut you again."  "Foggy, shhh..." Matt hissed as Fisk's lawyer entered the room.  "Your cane, Mr Murdock," the lawyer said as if nothing was out of the ordinary, nudging the cane against Matt's outstretched shaking hand. Matt snatched the cane with a thunderous expression on his face.  As they were exiting the prison, they heard a rush of footsteps behind them. "Matt," Kirsten called.   Matt stopped but didn't turn around. Foggy pocketed his blood-soaked tissue as he turned to face Kirsten, but the nosebleed wasn't done yet and a couple of drips ran down his upper lip. He swore under his breath and retrieved the sopping tissue from his pocket.  "What happened?" Kirsten said, but Foggy just shook his head.  She walked around to face Matt, whose bleeding nose had stopped, but the crust of blood on his upper lip remained. His nose and forehead were red and swollen, and he bit his lip as he felt her critical gaze.  "Seriously, you two, what happened?"  Matt stood up straight. "I'm afraid we can't discuss it.”  "Who did this?"  Matt replied stiffly, "I'm sorry, Kirsten, you know as well as I do that we can't discuss-"  "But he's not your client. Or was it someone else?"  Foggy gave her a pleading look.  Matt moved a little closer to Foggy and said, "Goodbye, Kirsten." He gave her a brief nod before moving away, tugging Foggy to move faster.  "We can't tell anyone," Matt whispered. "You know what we signed."  "Yeah, but it didn't include anything about being beaten up. We can easily argue assault lies outside a confidentiality agreement."  "I don’t want to get anyone else involved in this, Foggy. Not yet. It’s disappointing that we’ve hit a dead-end, but at least we have proof that Fisk's running the joint."  "No shit. Which means it wouldn't be hard to arrange the druggings."  "I – I really don't think he did it," Matt said. "But not here. We'll discuss it later. I need to find an icepack."   Foggy sniffed and turned over the tissue, trying to find a corner that wasn't saturated. "And I need a fresh tissue."  Once they were safely in the back of the cab, Matt added, "and maybe the couch. Last night's seizure has me beat."  "I bet. Are you sure you won't go to the hospital?"  "Very."      "You have to go to the police," Karen said when she heard what happened.  Matt groaned from his horizontal position on his office couch. "And say what, Karen? That Fisk runs the prison? That the guards turned off the surveillance system on his order? That they just ignored the fact that we were assaulted by Fisk?"  Karen crossed her arms. "Okay, well what about Brett?"  Foggy looked at Matt over his icepack. "We should probably warn Brett. He can keep an eye out. He needs to know Fisk is flexing his muscle on the inside."  Matt removed the icepack from his forehead with a sigh. "Okay, we'll tell Brett. You're right. He should be warned at least. But-" he stopped and put on his glasses. "But we need to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or put himself in danger."  "You should take your own advice," Foggy muttered.  "I'm not going to apologise again, Foggy. It's done and we know more than we did this morning."  "We still don't know who's behind the druggings. If Fisk isn't, who is?"  "I have a lead," Matt said, grunting as he sat up. He could feel his forehead pulsing with angry heat. He closed his eyes to gather himself.  Foggy said, “you're not going out tonight, Matt. Not with a probable concussion, you're not.”  Matt shook his head. "I can't anyway. Melvin's trial is tomorrow. I have some last-minute things to catch up on." He stood up. "I'll meet you at home." He scooped up Daisy and left before Karen and Foggy could interrogate him about his intentions. 

A few days later found Tony, Michael, Mia, Ana, and Stephen standing before Rose Soveliss’s grave. May and Peter came as well for support, along with Rhodey and Carol. No one knew they were there, as thanks to Wong who was standing further back, they found a spell that would shield the funeral from prying eyes. All others would see was a family in mourning. Michael and Mia were crying, while Ana’s eyes shined with unshed tears. She held Mia while Tony had his arm around Michael. Peter came up and rubbed Mia’s back while hugging Ana, and for that Tony was grateful. When they left, Wong walked closer and spoke up. “The Masters wish to see you and…Riven… Ana.” Tony glared at the librarian. “Now? Can we have a bit more time? We just laid Mom to rest…” Ana said softly, looking at the man as the unshed tears began to fall. Wong watched, before nodding, looking slightly ashamed. “Of course. I will let them know you are in mourning.” Ana nodded, and it wasn’t until everyone parted and Tony and the kids were in the car that she wiped them away, completely fine. “I can’t tell if I’m disturbed by your ‘acting’ or proud.” Tony said, raising an eyebrow at her. Stephen had warned them that some of the Masters from Kamar-Taj would be nearby, not only to help with the spell but to watch Ana. So Ana put on the strong front for her siblings, only shedding tears when Wong asked for her to come with him. “Thank you.” She said smugly, smirking at him. “Again, not sure it’s a compliment.” She just chuckled as she reached over and brushed Mia’s hair out of her eyes. The little girl was still very upset, but when Tony told her and Michael that they can come visit the grave whenever they want it seemed to calm them. Tony watched them, before pulling out his phone at the text he got. Stephen had gone with Wong, and updated him that the masters will pull back on their demanding of seeing Ana for now. He sighed in relief, before showing Ana the text. “Good. One less thing to worry about right now.” When they reached the compound Happy, who had driven them helped get Michael’s chair out and wheeled the boy in with the others. “Thanks Hap.” Tony said as they entered the living room. Carol and Rhodey had to go meet the council after the funeral so it was only them and Vision. “Not a problem boss. It was nice to meet you kids…and I’m so very sorry for your loss.” He said softly. When they had met him that morning Mia gave him her signature shy smile, and Tony could tell Michael was nervous, like he usually was with new people. But soon they warmed up to him, seeing him be careful with Michael in getting him in the car, and how he already had a carseat ready for Mia. She smiled at seeing it was sea creature themed. “Thank you Happy.” Michael said, wheeling himself to his room. “I’m gonna go change…Ana can you help?” “Sure. Tony you mind helping Mia?” Tony took the little girl in his arms and had helped change her out of the black little dress. He hoped she wouldn’t have to wear it again for a very long time. Once she was in her comfortable clothes, he went to his room and pulled out a present he’d been searching for her. “Mia?” The little girl looked up from her bed, confused. “I have something for you.” He pulled out from behind his back a shark plush. What she didn’t know was it had gps chip in it, along with some spells Stephen offered when he mentioned the other night that he wanted something for Mia to have around that would keep her safe. Mia gasped, jumping down from her bed and rushing over, slamming into Tony’s legs. At that moment he was thankful for Extremis because she slammed hard enough he would’ve fallen over. “I take it you like it?” She nodded into his pant leg before carefully taking it from him. “What should I name him?” She whispered, carefully holding the plush. “You really like Jaws right?” She nodded. “How about Bruce? That’s what they named the shark in the movie.” She smiled brightly at him, nodding again as she cuddled the plush close. “Come on, let’s go see what your brother and sister are doing.” When they went to the living room the found Ana instructing Vision on how to set up the ‘cuddle pile’ as after that first one Tony ordered a bunch of soft blankets and thicker pillows to basically turn the floor into a bed. Michael was on his tablet, looking through something. “What’s up kiddo?” He and Mia went over to him. “Looking at movies to watch that Friday recommends.” “Any look good?” The boy turned the tablet to show what had peaked his interest. “Megamind huh? Whatcha think munchkin?” Mia looked at the tablet, before nodding. “Excellent. Ana you done bossing Viz around?” “I’m not bossing him around, I’m showing him the best way to do a cuddle pile!” Ana gave Tony a look. “Uh huh.” “I did ask for the best methods, so I don’t mind.” Vision smiled at Tony, before getting back to getting the blankets made up. “See?” “Alright fine. Now, what do we want for dinner? I’m thinking comfort foods.” Mia was already to a point she could eat normal foods, but things like fast food or super processed foods would have to be a hard pass for her. “What kind of comfort foods?” “How about pizza?” Tony ordered from his usual place, which meant it was well made, not really greasy and just perfect for their movie night. After they got settled in with their food and the movie, Tony kept getting texts from Stephen. He was complaining about how the Masters were being pains, and because he couldn’t bring Ana in both he and Wong have to train some of the newer students at the sanctum so he wouldn’t be around for a bit. Tony frowned, before replying that he could over after the training was over, he and the kids wouldn’t mind. After going back and forth a bit, Tony noticed Ana watching him. Michael and Mia were next to him on one side, while Ana was on the other with Vision sitting on the sectional behind them. “That Stephen?” “Maybe?” Tony watched as the young girl raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” She just shook her head. —— That night after Mia and Michael went to bed, Tony and Riven were in the lab. Tony was going over the feedback from the Starkpad for kids while Riven was going through the books he and Stephen had gone through a few days ago. “Interesting.” Riven said out of nowhere, looking over to Tony. “I think I may have found where Johnathan mixed up summonings.” “Oh yeah?” “Tony.” Tony paused and looked up to the demon. “If these ‘Masters’ found this…” Tony understood what he meant. “Friday, go ahead and scan the book, put it under my personal file, and then password and voice protect it.” “What shall I put it under?” Friday asked as she began. “Put it under Def Leppard.” At the tilt of the head from Riven, he just chuckled. “Go ahead and look them up after you finish up whatever you’re doing. You’ll understand why.” “Thank you. And I will put this in a secure location.” —— About another hour later a portal opened and Stephen walked through, looking exhausted. “Heya Doc!” Tony smiled at him before realizing how tired he was. “Shit you ok?” “Yes…just had to deal with an interdimensional parasite while trying to teach a bunch of new students what not to do when said interdimensional parasite appears out of no where.” “Damn.” “What type was it?” Riven asked, closing the book he was reading. “Just a small one, just hard to handle with inexperienced ones around.” “What did it look like?” After describing what Tony could only sum as ‘a mutated half zombie rat’ Riven hummed, smiling a bit. “Doctor I believe I have a solution to your parasite. But before I can give it to you and the others at the Kamar-Taj we need to come to an agreement.” “We?” Stephen asked. “Your Masters and myself. In order for them to leave Ana and myself alone…along with a few other things I require.” “Such as?” Tony asked. “You’ll see…” Riven chuckled. “Now, I’m off to rest. I believe Vision is still up so I’m going to see if he is interested in watching some classic movies.” “Alright, let me know if you need anything.” Riven just waved as he walked away. “How’re you holding up?” Stephen asked Tony after a moment of quiet. “Oh you know. I have three traumatized children, a demon who’s planning something, recently had a panic attack about something that I’ve had an inkling of since…hell since the Invasion…” He let out a shuddering breath. “So…good?” “Talk to me. It’s obvious this inkling you’ve had was before Maximoff, since you mentioned the invasion.” Tony sat next to the doctor and, decided to talk. It was like when he was talking with Ana, having someone actually listening to him about what had happened. After he finished telling him about the nuke, he felt Stephen take his hand carefully. “Tony…you do realize how traumatic that was right? No wonder Maximoff was able to pull from that fear and turn it into such a nightmare.” Tony carefully turned his hand and laced their fingers. “I know. I’m seeking therapy but…I didn’t at first. I didn’t handle it well after everything.” Stephen was quiet, before asking. “Didn’t your house get blown up by a known terrorist?” Which caused Tony to laugh. “Yeah. Like I said, didn’t handle it well at first.” They talked for hours, before Stephen sighed. “I should get some rest.” “Yeah me too. Victoria is suppose to be out tomorrow, and I’ve got a few things we’re gonna have to take care of.” Tony pulled his hand away reluctantly, before standing. “Text me?” “Of course.” Stephen opened a portal to what looked like a bedroom. “Goodnight Tony.” “Night Stephen.” —— The next week seemed to fly by for Tony and the kids. Tony had tested both Michael and Ana in regards to their education, finding that Michael was actually quite brilliant. Ana with her photographic memory thanks to Riven, was also incredibly smart. Mia wanted to learn like her siblings, so Tony ordered a ton of books for her to learn colors, shapes and numbers. He made sure they were all sea themed, or star wars themed. Each night they’d curl up on the couch watching movies, getting them all caught up with movies he knew they’d love. When Michael found out there were not only multiple movies but cartoons and comics of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Tony may have gone overboard with getting him all of it. Peter coming over and talking about all the nerdy things the boy liked also helped. The occasional check ins with Victoria were going well as well, and they were planning their first outing soon since Michael was strong enough to go out without getting so winded. Currently everyone was in the lab, which Tony had started to realize that he had now permanently shared with his kids. Michael and Peter had their own corner for Lego building, or any other models Michael found he wanted to try to build. Mia had a spot next to the bots charging station, and if Tony didn’t need them they’d crowd around the little girl as she used her new books to point out colors and shapes. Ana had her own spot full of books, and she shared it with Stephen. If Stephen wasn’t over complaining to Tony about the ongoings of the Kamar-Taj he’d be over there with Riven or Ana going through the last of Johnathan’s books. Right now they were talking about the upcoming meeting they had with the Masters. “I still don’t like it.” Tony said, pacing a bit. “What if something happens?” “I’m there to make sure nothing does.” Stephen said. “I’ve also told them that as her guardian you’ll be coming as well.” “Look no offense Stephen but I don’t trust the bastards. Especially after what happened with Hong Kong!” During the week they texted none stop, and when Stephen would occasionally come over once the kids went to bed they talked. When Tony found out what all Stephen sacrificed, him going through his death countless times…he wasn’t happy with Kamar-Taj. Especially if they keep giving the rightly named Sorcerer Supreme such problems. “I know you’re angry, and as flattering as that is we need to focus on the here and now.” That was another thing that changed…they had started flirting. Tony’s stomach twisted a bit, and he sighed, finally standing still. “Fine.” Riven was watching the two of them, giving Tony the same raised eyebrow look Ana would give before he cleared his throat. “I have a request…and yes Ana is on board.” He handed over the tablet he was holding. On it was the senate hearing Tony had to attend after coming out as Iron Man. “Ok?” Tony looked at the demon confused. “I’m thinking we handle this like Tony Stark would.” Riven grinned. “…Are you asking me for a suit so you can saunter in with an attitude?” “That’s exactly what we’re asking for.” “Oh Vishanti help us.” Stephen said, shaking his head. “You’re just jealous you’re not getting a nice suit for this little meeting. Riven and I will look amazing” “…I bet.” The look he gave Tony made him flush a bit. It wasn’t quite a leer, but more of appreciation to the man standing in front of the sorcerer. “Quit that.” Tony jumped at Riven’s sudden closeness. “Quit what?” Riven gave Tony a ‘really?’ look. “You know what.” Stephen gave Riven a confused look but Tony ignored it. “I am not about to have this conversation with you. Now…” With a wave of his hand, holograms came up with different styled suits. “What do you guys want to wear?”

The next morning, Mingi wasn’t too confident in his wish to wake Yunho. While aware of his duties, Mingi spent almost five more minutes in bed rolling around when he usually would have got up already. His eyes burned from the lack of sleep, body begging him to take a rest and simply confess to Yunho he wasn’t feeling so great. Yet, the more responsible side of Mingi knew that his inner turmoil shouldn’t impede Yunho’s daily duties. His night of thinking had led him to the conclusion that Yunho had every right to be sleeping with people he was enticed by. Doing so behind the solid walls of the castle and with the respect he treated people with, nothing was wrong with it. Yunho attracted people left and right, and among demons, there was no need to shun these matters. Then why did Mingi’s heart feel as if stabbed by a dozen knives? Because of the attention Yunho had given him that he had wished to be exclusive to him? Because Yunho might sleep with San after all and that the signals he had sent towards Mingi had been no more but his usual flirtatious? It hurt. Mingi’s heart hurt, and even after an entire night of his dilemma, he couldn’t help himself. After so many times of telling himself that his attraction to Yunho was uncalled for and so many times of Yunho proving to him that his feelings were valid and reciprocated, Mingi felt like a fool now. How could he have dared to believe that he had stood out to the regal demon more than others? Even when Yunho didn’t divide between the two different horned groups, amongst draped horned people were many more attractive demons than Mingi. Mingi was queasy from hunger and lack of sleep. And even as he dragged himself up from bed, he didn’t want to go. Loyal to his duties, Mingi slipped into his shirt, buttoning it up cleanly. He took the book with him he needed to give Yunho. As he trudged downstairs to fetch Yunho’s meal, he was slow. Once he went back up, he had reached a snail’s pace. Mingi wasn’t prepared to intrude into that room again and to find Yeosang sleeping next to the prince. Surely, Yunho didn’t take advantage of his power with such matters, right? Or was the reason he pushed off San, since he could make use of the servants easier? Mingi’s head suffered with his unanswered questions and the lingering feeling of betrayal. Even as he tried to practise nonchalance and school his features into a mask of indifference, Mingi caught himself slipping. Tight, his tail curled around his leg as if offering comfort for his broken heart. After he had reached Yunho’s door, Mingi exhaled once more. Then, he carefully knocked in the same custom as always. No answer. No voices inside, either. With his head ducked, Mingi entered the room. His eyes searched the bed instantly, trying to make out the number of limbs under the sheets. Once he had prepared the tray, he hesitantly trudged closer. Yunho was alone. Relief flooded Mingi at the same moment that an evil voice asked him how often Yunho had indulged late-night visitors that Mingi didn’t know of. Catching him once had already put a strain on Mingi’s side of their relationship. Who knew who else was involved. With a sigh, Mingi shook off his malicious thoughts once more. It was not his place. Unmotivated, he shook Yunho’s shoulder. The prince’s skin under his fingertips was pleasantly hot, as always. Mingi’s mind connected it with gentle touches and flutters in his stomach, but today it sent no more but another rush of bitterness through him. “My Prince. You need to wake.” Yunho slept deeply tonight. His blanket was mostly kicked off regularly and this time, Mingi couldn’t help but glance down on his form to spot any evidence of what had occurred the night prior. No marks marred his tattooed skin, and not even a strand of hair reminisced about his nightly visitor. As much as Mingi had denied himself of his improper thoughts so far, the sight of Yunho couldn’t keep them any longer from permeating his mind. He wondered how Yunho’s skin had felt under Yeosang’s fingers. How the heat between them had taken over their bodies and minds. And how Yeosang had fallen apart in Yunho’s arms. Mingi gulped; his fingers on Yunho’s shoulder stilling. For a moment, he was entranced, his pulse fluttering as he imagined just a bit too far. As he sunk into his daydream with the image of Yunho right in front of him, Mingi flustered himself. The yearning of being in Yeosang’s place to experience the same with his own body and soul nearly overwhelmed him. The sudden thought of Yunho kissing him, moulding their mouths together to pull him close, had Mingi flinch. His hand pulled back from Yunho as if he had burnt himself at the rough nudge. Yet, Yunho’s eyes finally fluttered open, and he groggily blinked up at Mingi. For a moment, he was still half asleep, then his usual droopy smile stretched on his lips. Mingi smiled back in a grimace. Guilt washed over him over regarding the unconscious prince with such greed. “Good morning, Mingi,” Yunho yawned as he stretched and rolled around. His horns tangled in his blankets, and he shook them off with a huff. Wild hair got messed up further. “Morning,” Mingi muttered, still occupied with his jumbled mind. Yunho sighed comfortably, sitting up with yet another languid stretch. He came to sit in front of Mingi, entirely bare but without shame. With a wince, he sorted through his hair in an attempt to fix his appearance. Through the iron bars that Mingi had enclosed it in, his heart gave a weak squeeze. Wordlessly, Mingi grabbed onto Yunho’s clothes. He handed him the pants first and Yunho slipped into them sleepily. As Mingi handed him the cropped jacket Yunho had picked out to wear, he kept his eyes on the bunched up sheets beyond the man’s shoulder. Yunho slipped into the jacket that had no means to close it at the front. Only when Mingi busily laid the heavy chains around Yunho’s neck with a blank expression, the prince scrutinised his features curiously. The centrepiece of Yunho’s jewellery today was a leather amulet. Its middle held a teardrop-shaped cloudy gem in a pale blue. It matched the earrings he fiddled into his ears, as well as the ring he slipped over his index finger. “Did you not sleep well? You appear tired.” The sleepy drawl of Yunho’s voice lifted quickly, but it still resonated in Mingi’s chest. When the tip of Yunho’s tail brushed against Mingi’s, Mingi awkwardly pulled his away. He wrapped it around his forearm so it was out of reach for Yunho. Anxious, he avoided Yunho’s dejected gaze. “I stayed up for a while reading. I found another book that might fit your interests. I put it on the table for you.” Befuddled, Yunho glanced at the living quarters and back at Mingi. Worry etched into his features now. Worry that delved into open concern when Mingi adverted his eyes from him as soon as his fingers fell from his necklaces. “Mingi, you didn’t have to. I didn’t want you to give up sleep over these matters.” “I wanted to.” With a polite nod, Mingi stepped back from the bed. His heart raced in his chest, nervous about how Yunho would react; if he would close off because of Mingi’s avoidance. Steely, he stuck to his formalities. “Will you need me during breakfast? If not, I will catch up with you later during your royal meetings.” The patience in Mingi’s voice sounded artificial even to him. Upset, Yunho stood to near him. His taller figure loomed over Mingi, making his knees weak once more. “You won’t eat with me today?” When Mingi mildly shook his head, disappointment flashed in Yunho’s eyes. He tried to school his expression so his miserable eyes wouldn’t make Mingi feel bad, but Mingi’s heart took a stab, anyway. Not as bad as the stab of last night, though. The reminder strengthened Mingi’s resolve. “I will stay if you insist, but I didn’t plan to, no.” Punishing Yunho with a meal alone was the barest thing Mingi dared to do. The only thing he could get away with. He swore to himself that it was only a method to sort himself out first before he snapped at Yunho over matters perfectly licit for a prince to do. And yet the dull satisfaction he got over the hurt in Yunho’s features eased his betrayed spirit. “Of course I won’t insist, then. Please, take your time to eat in comfort and join me afterwards,” Yunho muttered. When he turned to focus on his breakfast alone, Mingi regretted it. No use in reaching out once more. Without another glance at him, Mingi ducked out of the door and dashed back down into his room. He ate by himself, his heart burning with guilt over the situation he had put both himself and Yunho into. In Yunho’s eyes, the prince had done nothing troublesome. The sour turn in their usual playful companionship had been entirely Mingi’s fault. The food didn’t taste as good as the other days. After he had finished his lonesome meal, Mingi didn’t linger. He joined Yunho back upstairs and waited for him next to the door while the prince finished fixing his appearance in the bathroom. When he came back out, he dared a careful glance at Mingi’s features. When Mingi stared straight ahead stonily, Yunho gave up. With a sad droop of his usually squared shoulders, he left the room. Mingi kept behind him as he followed him through the corridors like a ghost. Every ounce of his willpower went into keeping his mind a blank void, so no thought dared to occur. The meeting with the advisors was kept short. They had received notice that the king would return in the evening and that Yunho would join his brother and San on a hunt for the pixie terrorist tomorrow. In the backroom, Mingi chewed on his lip at the idea of having to stick to Yunho awkwardly like this for an entire day while in danger. When Onnah had disrupted their slow game of chess to tilt her head inquiringly at Mingi, he had shaken off the thought. Today, Yunho didn’t dare to call Mingi over during dinner time. If the queen found it remarkable, she didn’t comment on it. She merely asked Yunho about San and if there were any improvements to their relationship. Yunho declined. After a long dinner that had Mingi nearly falling asleep on the spot since he was so tired and exhausted by his emotions, he trudged up the stairs behind Yunho once more. Back in Yunho’s room, he didn’t even come to sit with the other man on the divans. He lingered near the door in a stiff posture, ready to flee their tense atmosphere. “I won’t take you with me tomorrow. Stay here and enjoy your free time. I hope you may get some sleep,” Yunho said mostly to himself, since Mingi was so unresponsive. Mingi’s stomach dropped. Was it because he had acted out of order today? Did Yunho consider him a nuisance like this? Helpless in between his duties and his aching heart once more, Mingi drew his brows together. “I will not be needed?” “No. I won’t have time to explain details to you during the chase and servants might limit the group or make it difficult to manoeuvre.” Despite the usual kindness in Yunho’s voice, he sounded strained. He picked up the book on the table in front of him, flicking through the pages. “I understand. I will await your return then.” Yunho hummed, eyes focused on the book. “What about this did you want me to read?” “The part of pixies enchanting other creatures. I wondered if maybe a spell on us demons makes it possible for such small creatures to best us.” It had been an interesting chapter. Mingi knew little about the details of the attacks, but he imaged either it would help Yunho figure something out, or it was a valuable guide to understanding pixie magic. “Thank you.” Yunho raised his head to gift Mingi with a soft smile. It had the other demon melt in the worst ways, and his tail swished behind him nervously. He wanted to ask Yunho about it, wanted to resolve this issue between them like an adult, but he was a coward. No more, but a frosty nod came from him. “I will see you tomorrow evening, then. It would be best if you didn’t visit the town this time. It may not be our hunting ground, but I worry if similar dangers might lurk there if we don’t find the pixie,” Yunho dismissed him. “I understand.” With that, Mingi turned on his heel to retreat to his room. And once more, he rolled around for an eternity, plagued by vivid imaginations and hot stabs of jealousy. When he finally fell asleep, he could at least doze for long until noon.

Eli was up all night tossing and turning.   No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep, couldn’t get his mind to quiet down. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the frustration and hurt in Klitz’s eyes and the naive admiration from Sydney. There was no way she could’ve known that this is how it would end up. She had been so excited when Eli asked her out, which made what he had to do all the more heartbreaking.    What could he say to her that would be believable while still withholding knowledge of the truth? It wasn’t like he could just go up to her and say “hey Sydney, I had a great time last night except I can’t date you because I’m fucking my guy best friend”. Even the hypothetical made his stomach roll over with nausea. The whole situation made him feel ill. He was kept awake, plagued by thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong.    Eli wasn’t great with words in the first place. Nothing he ever said was eloquent or graceful, he often stumbled over his speech. He could easily come up with a joke or a comeback, but that was different from something he had to take seriously. There was a very real possibility that he might slip up and say something incriminating and be exposed.    That also made everyone else finding out a very real possibility. Sydney, as lovely as she was, had a tendency to gossip about pretty much anything that happened, ever. Even if he didn’t fuck up what he was gonna say, it was almost guaranteed that Sydney would tell all of her friends about the “breakup”. Eli wouldn’t be surprised if she already told them about their date.   He also had to make it seem like he was still interested. It would be super suspicious for him to tell her he couldn’t date her just because he didn’t want to. Nobody didn’t want to date Sydney.   His eyes burned and he glared at his alarm clock when it told him it was nearly four am, as if that was its fault. He rolled over to the other side of his bed where he wouldn’t be lying in a puddle of sweat. It was slightly cooler but didn’t do much to help his nervous sweating, it just made him shiver.    He closed his eyes in frustration and made another attempt to fall asleep. He laid still for about five minutes, even took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, like how his parents had told him before when he couldn’t sleep. It didn’t work. Instead of the deep breathing calming him, it just made him angrier.   “This is so fucking stupid,” Eli muttered as he kicked off his covers and got out of bed. Sleeping was obviously not working, and he was hot—he ought to be doing something productive rather than stewing in his own sweat and self pity. He went to the bathroom and ran a shower, not bothering with turning on the hot water. He gasped as the cold water pelted his skin and made him break out in goosebumps.   He stood in the stream, getting used to the temperature.   He tried to scrub his body of his anxiety, letting it run down the drain with the soap and bubbles.   As he washed his hair, he thought about how he had to get out of this mindset that he was bound to mess it up. If he kept thinking like that, he would psych himself out and actually fuck up for real, which he couldn’t let happen under any circumstances.   He had to come up with something real, something that would work; he didn’t have a choice.   He got out of the shower and dressed in fresh clothes and instead of getting back into his own bed, he went to the guest bedroom.   He pulled back the comforter and got into bed. The sheets were stiff and smelled faintly like dust from disuse, but they were cool against his skin and he finally began to relax.   His eyes got heavier and heavier as he stared at the ceiling and eventually, sleep overtook him. He woke up the next morning to his doorbell being rung repeatedly. Whoever was ringing it was obviously impatient. He looked around, disoriented and feeling like he’d been hit by a small truck. He blinked slowly several times until he regained enough consciousness to realize that he was sleeping in the guest room and didn’t have his alarm to wake him up.   God damnit.   He rushed out of bed and into his own room, checking the time on his alarm clock. The clock that was currently beeping obnoxiously, and had been, presumably, for the past thirty fucking minutes.   The ringing must be coming from Klitz, then.   He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and flipped it open to find four missed calls, all from Klitz. He groaned in annoyance and rushed to get dressed for school before going to the bathroom where he quickly brushed his teeth because, contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t that gross, then washed his face to get the sleep out of his eyes. At least he’d showered during the night and wouldn’t be going to school all sweaty. He looked at himself in the mirror, the state of his eyes catching his attention. Light purple circles under his eyes made them look even more downturned and sad.    He checked his outfit as well, making sure he was at least decently presentable, and noticed a red spot on his neck.    He pulled down his collar to see it better and, yep, that was a fucking hickey.    Fucking great, Klitz, thanks a lot.   He dug through a drawer in the vanity where he’d tossed the concealer that he’d used on the last hickey Klitz had so lovingly bestowed upon him. Eli rolled his eyes.   He smeared the concealer on the bruise and rubbed it in with his fingers. It was still partially visible and the concealer was way lighter than his actual skin tone, but nobody would notice unless they were standing super close to him. It’d be fine.   He bounded down the stairs and grabbed his bag, before unlocking the door to find Klitz pacing on his porch looking down at his phone. Eli was surprised he waited for him that long.   When Klitz heard the door open he looked up, concern on his face turning to anger. “What the fuck dude?! I called you like fifty times! I thought you were fucking dead or something!”   “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep last night, must’ve slept through my alarm,” Eli said as he locked his front door.   “And slept through me ringing the doorbell too?” Klitz said with irritation.   Eli turned to him and threw his arms up in an I don’t know what you want me to say gesture.   Klitz let out a harsh breath of frustration. “Are you okay at least?”   “Yeah. Fine. Just tired.” On the drive to school, Eli went over the two objectives he’d come up with during his sleepless night. The apology and the not quite breakup. He decided to get the apology over with. Eli thought about how upset Klitz had been yesterday. How aggressively he’d kissed him like he was staking a claim or trying to get a point across or something. It was super sexy, but it probably wasn’t the healthiest approach to sex, and it definitely didn’t make up for the fact that Eli hurt Klitz.   Eli had been stupid and selfish and ended up hurting two people because he was thinking with his dick and not his brain. That was pretty on par for him, but there was no denying that this time he took it too far.   Alright, the apology. Here goes nothing.   “Um,” Eli broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”   “For what?”   Well… wait, what was Eli sorry for? He and Klitz weren’t dating. It’s not like Eli cheated on him. But it felt weird, and Eli felt the need to apologize anyway.   “For, uh… kissing someone else.”   “Oh. It’s fine, man.” Klitz tried to make it seem like he didn’t care, but Eli saw the shift in his demeanor. Klitz was relieved.   Alright, one down, one to go.   They arrived at school and Eli and Klitz sat in the parking lot with the few minutes they had before the morning bell rang.    “Did you figure out what to tell Sydney?”   Actually, he did.   He would tell her that he thought it would be a bad idea to get into a relationship so late in the year when they were both about to go away to college in a few months. It was foolproof and completely reasonable.   It didn’t really explain his sudden change of heart though, since he seemed so eager yesterday. He could say he did some thinking overnight, which technically wasn’t a lie.   Sydney would probably agree with Eli’s reasoning. Yesterday, Eli had learned that Sydney was super academically oriented and had been accepted into Columbia University, which was practically on the other side of the country. Long distance with your high school sweetheart never worked out. Eli would convince her that this was for the best, and they’d stay friends, and everything would go back to normal, and he could keep kissing Klitz, and everyone would live happily ever after. Unfortunately, there was a reason ‘happily ever after’ only existed in fairy tales.   At the beginning of English class, Sydney had walked over to Eli where he was already sitting at his desk and kissed him on the cheek. Eli smiled at her and pretended like everything was fine and dandy, but everything was not fine and dandy in the slightest. It was really sweet of her—Sydney was such an amazing girl—which made this so much more difficult.   Not difficult, emotionally, per se; difficult because it would look suspicious that he was turning down an opportunity to be with her. Any guy in their class would want a summer fling with Sydney, even if they both knew they’d have to break up a few months later. That was the main problem. There was no real excuse for Eli to turn down a summer fling, especially since there was a chance that Sydney would be cool with that. He’d just have to rely on the chance that she wouldn’t.   After class, Sydney turned to him and smiled sweetly before leaving. She didn’t know it, but she was actually really helping Eli out. Putting on a performance in front of Troy without even realizing. Eli knew he was the biggest asshole for using her like that, but he was dealing with a lot of shit, so he’d have to put feeling bad about it on the back burner. At least Troy would be taken care of for a little while. After school, Eli went to the gym. Sydney had told Eli that she was in track and had practice after school every day, so he figured he could catch her at the locker rooms and tell her before practice. Regrettably, this plan meant that there was a risk Sydney would have to go to practice in a bad mood, but there was no way Eli was delaying more than he had to.   Sorry, Sydney. Eli’s gotta look out for number one.   He found her walking in the middle of a large group of other girls to the locker rooms carrying a gym bag. She was laughing at something one of the girls must’ve said and Eli felt so fucking guilty.    He wasn’t sure how to get her attention without interrupting the group, but luckily, she noticed Eli, saving him the awkward interaction with her friends who he knew for a fact didn’t think very highly of him.   “Oh, hey Eli!” She jogged over to him and pressed a brief, very unexpected kiss to his lips.   “Uh, hi,” he smiled nervously. “Can I talk to you real quick?” Eli glanced at the group behind them who were waiting for Sydney. All of the girls broke out into an ‘oooooh’ and Eli blushed. At least they didn’t automatically think it was something bad.   “Sure.” Sydney turned to the group and waved them off. “Guys, stooooop,” she said, giggly.    Sydney handed her gym bag to one of the girls before Eli took her hand and led her away from the group. “Do you know anywhere, um… private?” He lowered his voice in case anyone happened to be in earshot.   Sydney’s eyes got wide and a flirty grin spread on her face. Fuck, she probably thought Eli wanted to have some sort of fucked up school sex.    “Yes. Follow me.” Sydney walked off down the long, dim hallway of the gym locker room corridor. Eli followed Sydney to an old, abandoned looking girl’s dressing room, where she held the door open for him. He stood at the entrance and refused to go inside.   “That’s the girl’s,” he protested.   Sydney rolled her eyes. “Just come on, nobody’s in there.” Eli hesitantly walked into the room, feeling like he was breaking the law. “You’re insane if you think I’m going in the boy’s.” Sydney followed him into the room and locked the door behind her before turning around and pressing her back to it with a cheeky smile.   Eli didn’t know what he was expecting, but the room was just a basic dressing room. A long counter was bolted to the wall with an equally long mirror above it. It smelled like dust, and old perfume still lingered in the air even after the room obviously had not been used for a good while. There was a set of lockers across from the mirrored wall. It looked more like a room that belonged in the performing arts building for people in plays or some shit to get dressed in than a locker room in a gym.   Sydney crossed the room from where she was standing at the door to Eli, wrapped her arms around Eli’s waist and kissed him, harder than she had done in front of her friends and it caught Eli off guard. Eli had been secretly hoping that last night was a fluke and he was only freaked out from Sydney kissing him because he was intimidated. He halfway expected himself to enjoy it this time and would have to tell Klitz he changed his mind.    Eli wished that was the case.    Things were starting to go way too far with Klitz—not like they hadn’t from the very beginning—but Eli found himself wanting it more and more as each day passed. He wasn’t sure if he could stop even if he wanted to, which was absolutely terrifying. Hell, he had tried to stop; that was the whole reason he was with Sydney in the first place. And he couldn’t even do that.    This ‘not thing’ seemed like it was rapidly approaching ‘thing’ territory, and that was dangerous. Mainly because Eli wasn’t gay and if he had a thing with Klitz then people would think he was gay. How was he supposed to get women if people thought he was gay?   To Eli’s dismay, kissing Sydney didn’t feel any better than it did last night. It was still cold and, despite Sydney’s enthusiasm, was unwelcoming. Eli resisted the urge to recoil and shove her away. Instead, he gently pushed her back with a hand on her shoulder so that he could speak.    “Um, so listen,” Eli started, going over the script he had prepared in his head. “I had a great time with you last night.”   Sydney’s smile faded slightly. She’d probably heard those words before. She probably knew where this was going. “But…?” she offered.   “But,” Eli accepted, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to date.”   Sydney stepped back and tilted her head as she frowned. “Why not?”   “I just,“ Eli looked at the ceiling and rubbed at his neck anxiously, playing up how guilty he felt to hopefully sell it better. “I think we–“ Eli looked back down at her, ready to deliver his prepared excuse, but paused when he saw her no longer looking at his face.   She was looking at his neck.   Oh shit. Shit shit shit.   Eli looked at his palm and found the concealer smudged there, now doing its job concealing on his hand rather than on his neck where it should be.   Sydney reached out and rubbed away the remaining concealer with her thumb, revealing the rest of the bruise. “That wasn’t there last night, was it?” she asked.   Eli stood there, mouth hanging open at a loss for words. She wasn’t supposed to see that. He hadn’t come up with an excuse for that. What was he supposed to say to explain that?   Sydney had gone off script and Eli didn’t have a backup plan. A wave of nausea hit him as he realized he was trapped with no excuse and no plan and no way to explain without giving himself away. He went red in the face as he recalled the events taking place that were the reason he had a hickey. It was because he was fucking around with Klitz. Klitz, who was a man. A man gave him a hickey. The realization caused a nasty mix of panic and fear to develop inside him, and his brain began to shut down.   “Were you with another girl last night?” Sydney asked, anger edging her voice.   Oh god, Eli didn’t want Sydney to be mad at him. He still wanted to stay friends with her, and telling her he got a hickey from some other girl on the same night as their date would be the easiest way to make sure that didn’t happen.   Unable to think clearly, Eli did his best to reassure, “No, Sydney, not a girl–“ but stopped when his brain caught up with him and he realized what he had just said.   Not a girl.   Sydney raised her eyebrows at him in shock. “Not… a girl…?” She spoke slowly, like she wasn’t sure if Eli was joking or not.   Three little words.    Three little words that instantly managed to completely fuck everything up.   “No– I mean, yes,” Eli babbled, trying to fix his slip up.   “Were you with a boy?” Sydney raised her voice.   Everyone knew about fight or flight. It was an instinctual reaction to a threat, kicking in when one was faced with danger. Unfortunately, Eli was currently experiencing the lesser known freeze.   He stood stock still, eyes wide with fear, not knowing how to continue from there. His chest was tight and he could feel tears forming in his eyes. “Sydney, I–“ his voice caught in his throat. His breathing picked up and his vision turned fuzzy at the edges. He was so fucked. Everyone was gonna find out.    Sydney watched Eli gradually begin to break down, and her expression turned from anger and confusion, to worry, finally understanding what was going on. “Eli,” she walked to where Eli hadn’t even noticed he’d backed away and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, getting his attention.    Eli jumped and looked at her, eyes filled with tears, panicked and terrified. “I’m not gay, I swear.”   “Take a deep breath,” she tried to slow his spiral. She guided Eli through a few deep, shuddering breaths until he wasn’t so lightheaded from hyperventilating and the lump in his throat went down enough that he could speak again.   Eli was stuck.   He couldn’t exactly deny that he was with a boy now that he’d totally lost his shit over it. He didn’t have to confirm it verbally; he took care of that with his fucking panic attack.   “I can’t explain,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. “I want to, but I can’t.”   “It’s okay,” she said sympathetically.   Eli scrunched his eyes shut tight and his tears fell.   “Hey, Eli, it’s okay, seriously.” Sydney pulled him into a light hug. He didn’t reciprocate, his arms hanging heavily at his sides.   “I’m sorry.”   Sydney pulled away and adjusted the lapels of his jacket. “You know, I think we’re better off as friends anyway,” she smiled gently at him.    Just like Klitz does.   Eli nodded and wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, mad at himself for crying. “Um… please don’t tell anyone,” he said shamefully.   “Of course not.” Sydney held up her pinky. “Not a soul. Pinky swear.”   Eli locked his pinky with hers. Sydney walked him out with an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, Eli,” she said. “I’ll see you.” She waved before jogging off to the main locker rooms.   Sydney was so calm about this. Eli came to school expecting Sydney to be the upset one. He can’t believe he broke down like that in front of her. That was the most humiliating experience of his life. His eyes and face burned red. He looked at the ground for the entire walk to the parking lot, holding himself back from breaking into a full on sprint to get away from the school as fast as he could.    Eli opened the passenger door and fell into the car, immediately burying his face in his hands, embarrassed, and humiliated, and scared. So fucking scared.   There was no way he could be sure that Sydney wouldn’t tell anyone. She might think it’s harmless to just tell her bff, just cause she tells her everything. But then her bff might tell someone else with the same mindset, then everyone is telling everyone, and before he knew it, the whole school would know.   “Eli?” Klitz asked, concerned.   “Sydney knows,” Eli said, his voice muffled behind his hands.   “What?!”   “She doesn’t, like, know know. I didn’t say anything about you.”   “Why did you say anything about it at all? What happened to the original plan?” Klitz sounded mad.   Eli lifted his head and glared at Klitz. How dare he be mad at Eli when it was his fault Sydney found out. “She saw the hickey on my neck. You know, the hickey you gave me? Remember that?”    Klitz glanced down at Eli’s neck and his cheeks tinted red with guilt.   Eli sighed and continued. “She asked if I was with another girl and I pretty much accidentally told her I was with a dude. She promised not to tell anyone though.”   “And you believed her?”   Eli looked at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious, Klitz? What should I have done? Make her take a fucking blood oath?”   “You should’ve not told her in the first place!”   “You think I meant to?!”   “How do you “accidentally” tell someone you were with a guy?”   Eli turned in his seat to face Klitz. “You know what? Fuck you, dude. It’s your fucking fault for sucking on my neck like you’re trying to mark your fucking territory. Stop pouting because I’m not a fucking faggot like you!”   Eli instantly regretted saying it.   Klitz flinched at Eli’s harsh words, hurt painting across his face before his mouth set in a hard line and his eyebrows drew together in anger. He looked like he wanted to snap back with his own hurtful remark, but instead shook his head and looked down at his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, Eli.” Eli couldn’t quite make out the tone of his voice. He thought it was maybe anger or guilt, but also recognized a note of disappointment.   Eli wished he could take it back.   “Just take me home,” he said shortly.  The ride home was silent. Eli sat slumped in his seat with his arms crossed. He was pissed at Klitz, pissed at the hickey, pissed at the whole situation in general, but when they got back to Eli’s house, asked Klitz to stay with him anyway.   Eli unlocked the front door and dropped his bag on the ground in the entryway haphazardly, kicking it out of the way so he wouldn’t trip on it later. Klitz followed him inside and took Eli’s keys out of the lock before shutting the door behind him. Before Eli could walk away, Klitz put his hand on Eli’s shoulder and turned him around so they were facing each other.   Eli let Klitz pull him into a hug. Eli wrapped his arms around Klitz and gripped handfuls of his jacket. He wanted to fight and kick and punch and yell, but instead he began to tear up again. He buried his face in the crook of Klitz’s neck and leaned some of his weight into him, letting Klitz hold him up. Klitz rubbed his back soothingly and it wasn’t until then that Eli realized how tired he was. Eli let the tears roll down his cheeks and land on the collar of Klitz’s jacket. Klitz petted Eli’s hair and held him tightly.   Eli pulled away after way too long and looked up at Klitz. Klitz looked at him, apology written all over his face. “I’m sorry.”   Eli searched Klitz’s face, but Klitz’s eyes never left Eli’s. He didn’t look at Eli’s lips this time. He didn’t ask Eli if he could kiss him, he didn’t even try to. How fucked was it that Eli wanted him to, even after all that?    Klitz wouldn’t though. Not after what Eli said.   Eli’s stomach rolled over with guilt. Klitz probably thought Eli thought he was disgusting or something. Eli could try to say he didn’t mean it like that, but there wasn’t much else he could’ve meant by it. But Eli didn’t think Klitz was disgusting. Eli thought Eli was disgusting.   “Yeah. Me too.”   Klitz finally released Eli and they went to the living room together where Eli grabbed the tv remote. He flopped down onto the couch like his body was dead weight before began flipping through channels. He yawned. He could seriously go for a nap.    Klitz went to the kitchen and brought back two bottles of water and a bottle of tylenol, which Eli gratefully accepted. “Thanks.” He had a killer headache.   Klitz sat next to him on the couch, but they didn’t talk like they usually did. Eli rested his head on the back cushion of the couch, nodding off. He wanted to try to take a nap, but it was proving difficult. Every time he thought he’d found a comfortable position, a crick would form in his neck about five minutes later.   Klitz must’ve noticed because he grabbed a pillow and put it on his lap. “Eli.” Eli looked over at him and Klitz patted the pillow. Eli squinted at Klitz, a refusal resting ready on the tip of his tongue, but that did look really comfortable, and Eli was mind-numbingly tired.   “Fine. But I’m still mad at you,” Eli clarified, making sure Klitz didn’t think this was some kind of truce. He kicked his shoes off, then scooched around until he was able to fully lay down on the couch, and rested his head on the pillow in Klitz’s lap.   “Okay,” Klitz said, so painfully gentle and kind, despite Eli’s cruelty toward him earlier. Klitz was always too patient and forgiving with Eli, that it made Klitz easy to blame. It might be unfair that Eli stayed mad at Klitz when Eli was also at a huge fault. Klitz had full reason to be angry with Eli—he just… wasn’t.   “Are you mad at me?”   “No.”   He should be. It would be easier if he was.    The two watched tv together, and Klitz idly ran his fingers through Eli’s hair. Eli relaxed, exhaustion finally catching up to him. His mind cleared and he started to worry less about what Sydney knew. She’d pinky promised she wouldn’t tell anyone, and despite Klitz’s doubt, Eli felt like he could trust her to keep that promise. It was a pinky promise for christ’s sake.   “I’m not mad at you anymore,” Eli said after a while, turning his head to look up at Klitz.   Klitz looked down at him and smiled softly. “Okay.”   Eli’s eyelids began to get heavy and he slowly let them slip closed, soothed to sleep with Klitz’s hand in his hair. What felt like seconds later, Eli was awoken by the shrill ringing of someone’s phone. He opened his eyes and squinted up at Klitz, groggy and disoriented.   “Sorry,” Klitz said, slightly jostling Eli as he took his phone out of the front pocket of his pants. He looked at the screen before flipping it open and putting it to his ear. “Hey, Matt.” A short pause. “No, I’m not doing anything.” Klitz played with a strand of Eli’s hair while he spoke on the phone. Eli could hear the faint murmur of Matt’s voice through the phone, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Uh, yeah, we can.” Another pause. “No, I’m at Eli’s.”   “Hey, Matt,” Eli said as if to confirm, loud enough that Matt would be able to hear him. He heard a faint “hey Eli” in response from the speaker.    Klitz held the phone away from his face far enough to speak to Eli so that he wasn’t talking directly to Matt as well. “Do you wanna get something to eat with Matt?” Klitz asked softly.    At the mere mention of food, Eli’s stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. “Yeah, I could eat.”   Klitz returned the phone to his ear. “I can pick you up…alright see you soon.” Klitz closed his phone and looked down at Eli.   “How long was I asleep?”   “Like four hours.”   Eli sat up abruptly and noticed Klitz’s position on the couch, pretty much the exact same as when he’d first sat down. “Jesus christ! You didn’t move for four hours?”   Klitz shrugged. “I didn’t wanna wake you up. You said you didn’t sleep well last night.”   How dare Klitz care about Eli.   Now that he was fully awake, Eli noticed how rested he felt. Most of the anxiety from earlier had dissipated. He rubbed his eyes and stood up from the couch, his back making a sickly cracking sound as he stretched. “So, where are we going?” The three friends sat at a booth in McDonald’s, Klitz and Eli on one side and Matt on the other. Eli made sure he was sitting an appropriate friend distance away from Klitz. It wasn’t like Matt would think anything strange was up if Eli and Klitz did sit close, they were all really good friends, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Just two bros sitting next to each other. Two friends. Nothing else.   “Is that a hickey?”   Eli choked on his drink.   “Oh shit,” Matt laughed.   Eli’s face scrunched up in pain from accidentally snorting carbonated drink through his nose. “Fuck, dude,” he said as he squeezed the bridge of his nose.   “Sorry, man,” Matt apologized. “Didn’t mean to expose you or anything.”   Eli paled at the word ‘expose’. He didn’t want to talk about that anymore, but he hadn’t really told Matt about the date, and if he tried to avoid the topic, he’d look suspicious.   Eli recovered from his initial reaction and put on a fake smirk. “Uh, yeah, that’s a hickey.”   Klitz shifted on the bench next to him.   “That’s sweet, dude,” Matt said, finishing off his fries. “So are you guys dating then?”   “What? No,” Eli said, before realizing Matt wasn’t talking about the one who gave him the hickey. Shit. “I mean, yeah,” Eli corrected, perhaps a little too quickly. He went with the lying route this time since the truth, as accidental as it was, didn’t go too well earlier. At Matt’s raised eyebrow, Eli deepened the lie. “She said she doesn’t really wanna tell anyone yet. So, uh, if you ask her, she’ll probably be… weird about it.”   Eli actually didn’t know how Sydney would respond if someone asked her if she and Eli were dating. They hadn’t exactly gone over specifics.   Matt nodded in understanding. “Nice. That’s really great, Eli, I’m happy for you.”   “Thanks.”   “Damn,” Matt said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe Eli’s luck. “Sydney Dover.”   Damn was right. Sydney was gorgeous, smart, had an amazing personality, outgoing, popular, pretty much everything anyone could want in a girlfriend. Yet Eli still didn’t want her. He wanted Klitz.  After they all finished their food and sat around for a little while after that, they all drove back to Matt’s house.    “What about you, Matt? How’s things with Danielle?” Eli asked over his shoulder after remembering that the lack of Danielle was why Matt was hanging out with them again.   Matt sighed and stared out the window dramatically. “I haven’t talked to her.”   “You could try apologizing?” Klitz suggested.   “I know, but she hasn’t really been around and I’m too scared to actually talk to her. She was really upset at the motel.”   “Man up and talk to her, dude,” Eli said. “She’s a pornstar, apologize so you can fuck her.” Eli accidentally said the last part while looking at Klitz, and blushed before looking away.   Both Klitz and Matt groaned in annoyance at Eli’s comment.   “Come on, man,” Klitz said.   “You’re a dick, Eli. It’s your fault in the first place that I’m even in this situation. All you care about is sex and porn, I’m surprised Sydney agreed to date you,” Matt snapped venomously.   Boy, was Eli good at saying the wrong thing.   The rest of the drive to Matt’s house was quiet. When Matt got out of the car, he only said goodbye to Klitz.   “Wow, awkward.”   “Eli–“   “Whatever,” Eli dismissed, cutting Klitz off. He didn’t want another lecture on how he’s an idiot, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He wanted a distraction. “Wanna go back to my place?” There was hardly any confusion about what going back to Eli’s place meant. Sure, Eli and Klitz hung out a lot as friends, but lately, pretty much every time they hung out they ended up having sex. They couldn’t even use the “practicing” excuse anymore because what they were practicing could never be applicable to a woman. Unless that woman had a dick. Eli and Klitz had come to a mutual agreement that they were just doing this because they liked it at this point. They weren’t gonna talk about it, but they both knew it was stupid to keep pretending they were doing it for any reason besides the fact that they just wanted to.   So that’s how Eli ended up underneath Klitz once again as the two made out on Eli’s bed.   There was still a little bit of tension remaining between the two. Eli never properly apologized for what he said in the car after school, so getting Klitz to kiss him again had taken a little bit of convincing. Fortunately, it was slowly dissipating, Eli apologizing with his kisses rather than with his words. He was better at that anyway, and Klitz seemed to accept it.   They relaxed into each other and nipped at each other’s lips, and Eli even gave Klitz his very own hickey. “Payback,” he teased as he sucked on Klitz’s neck, low enough that the collar of most of Klitz’s shirts would hide it.   Their kisses were lazy and casual, and apart from Klitz’s small grinds down against Eli every so often, it wasn’t really leading up to anything.   Eli did have something in mind, though.   He’d been rereading his magazine and rewatching his gay porn pretty often. Really often. It was actually the only porn he’d been watching since he got it. He noticed new things every time and eventually he did some research, starting off with the perineum and why the guys in the magazine insisted on it. That led him to the discovery of the prostate, which was pretty much the dude g-spot. No wonder it felt so good.    He’d gone down a gay rabbit hole and learned some weird shit he could’ve probably gone his whole life without knowing about, but that wasn’t important right now. What mattered right now were the dick sucking things he’d learned.   Asking Klitz to do it the first time had been petrifying, but Klitz was into it. Now that Eli knew that, it shouldn’t still be scary to ask, but he still found himself hesitant.   “Hey Klitz?”   “Yeah?”   “Uh…”   “What?”   “Can I… you know…”   Klitz pulled back and gave him a smug look. “Do I?”   Eli knew for a fact that Klitz knew what Eli was trying to ask, but he was gonna make Eli say it anyway. Sadistic asshole.   Two could play that game.   Eli kissed Klitz and tugged his bottom lip down with his teeth. “Let me suck your dick?” Eli tried to sound as confident as possible asking it because he knew Klitz was expecting him to be shy. Nah, fuck that.   Klitz blushed at Eli’s sudden, unexpected change in tone. “Oh. Y-yeah,” Klitz stuttered. “Please.”    Who’s flustered now, bitch?   “Get off,” Eli said, pushing Klitz off and onto his back next to Eli on the bed. Klitz scooted up to the top of the bed and sat against the headboard. He unzipped his pants and pushed them and his boxers down, but only enough to get his dick out. That wasn’t going to work for what Eli had in mind. “No, take them off. All the way,” Eli said.   Klitz blushed even harder at the demand, but obeyed and pushed his pants all the way off and kicked them off the side of the bed. Klitz spread his legs so that Eli could lay between them.    Eli was somewhat familiar with how to do it now. He’d only done it once before, but it wasn’t exactly rocket science.   Eli gripped the base of Klitz’s half hard dick and licked the head. Klitz hissed at the first contact. He pumped Klitz’s dick until he was fully hard. Then he could really get to work.   Eli gathered spit in his mouth and licked long stripes up and down Klitz’s cock, spreading it all over. Lube was important.   He took the tip into his mouth and sucked lightly before going down a couple inches and retreating. He was determined to get Klitz back for how much he liked to tease Eli. He focused on the head, knowing that was the most sensitive area. Klitz’s thighs spasmed every time Eli poked his tongue into the slit.    He took him more fully into his mouth again and tilted his head to the side, the head of Klitz’s cock creating a bulge from the inside of his mouth. Klitz reached down and touched himself through Eli’s cheek.    “Holy shit, dude,” Klitz said, voice full of awe.   “Mmm,” Eli hummed in agreement.   Klitz’s hand made its way to Eli’s hair from his cheek and he gripped it lightly. Eli tilted Klitz’s dick around in his mouth, and began to bob his head again. He sucked Klitz slowly, going down further and further with each pass, and hit his throat with the tip, purposefully gagging himself.    Eli had read about that. It seemed kinda weird to gag himself on purpose, but he’d seen that it helped with warming up his throat so he wouldn’t be worried about gagging while he’s actually trying to put it in his throat. It kinda just got the first one out of the way so he could continue more confidently.   Surprisingly, it worked. Eli got himself down far enough that the tip of Klitz’s cock just barely blocked his airway. That would have for sure made him gag, but he didn’t, simply because he wasn’t afraid to. Funny how that works.   Eli pulled off and took a few deep breaths. He honed in all his attention to what he was about to attempt. He took Klitz back into his mouth while relaxing his throat, and got a little more than halfway down Klitz’s cock before gagging and pulling off again. He blinked away the tears that had formed and let them roll down his face so he could see clearly.   Eli didn’t care if it was only his second time sucking dick, he was determined to suck all of Klitz’s dick. He took a deep breath and went slowly. Klitz’s grip on Eli’s hair got tighter as Eli took him further and further. Eli knew Klitz wouldn’t slam him down and make him swallow or anything like that, but the hand on his head was a little nerve wracking.    Klitz made small quiet moans as Eli’s throat massaged his cock. Eli went up and down, relaxing his throat more each time, getting used to the feeling of something obstructing his breathing. It took a few attempts but eventually, Eli had managed to get all of Klitz’s nine-something inches in his throat, his nose pressed against Klitz’s pubes.    Klitz was so big. It felt like he was touching Eli’s lungs.   He looked up and made eye contact with Klitz through wet eyelashes.   Klitz’s mouth was hanging open and he was taking small panting breaths, as if Eli was strangling Klitz while his throat strangled his cock.   “Oh my god,” Klitz groaned, and the sound went straight to Eli’s own dick.   Eli was so proud of himself. He’d read that deepthroating took practice and was difficult, and here Eli was with all of Klitz’s cock in his throat. Apparently he was just a natural cocksucker.   He pulled off and grinned at Klitz smugly, blinking away tears and wiping spit off his chin.   He did it.    He deepthroated Klitz. Klitz’s huge dick. The biggest dick Eli had ever seen in his life.   The thought alone was seriously getting Eli off. He had no clue why sucking dick was such a turn on, but he savored every part—the way it felt in his mouth, hot and heavy on his tongue, when it would twitch and pulse out more precum. Eli was loath to admit, even to himself, that he liked it. A lot.    “That was so good, Eli.”   The praise made him blush and he pressed a kiss to the head of Klitz’s dick. He liked making Klitz feel good.   Eli tried it again, just to see if he could. He could. He moved his mouth up and down Klitz’s cock, alternating between taking him from tip to root in long bobs of his head and shorter bobs where he focused near the head and teased the slit. He was pullling some pretty sexy noises out of Klitz, and welcomed it when Klitz pulled his hair this time.   Eli pulled off all the way but continued to slowly jack Klitz off while he gave his jaw a break. Sucking dick was hard work, and Klitz’s girth meant he had to open his mouth pretty wide. Eli used his other hand to cup Klitz’s balls, figuring now was a good time to try the prostate thing. He also just really wanted to actually see Klitz’s reaction.   Eli’s hand was in a good position. He kept a steady pace on Klitz’s cock and used his first two knuckles to press up against the space behind Klitz’s balls.   Klitz moaned loudly and his cock jerked hard in front of Eli’s face. That was hot.   “What the fuck was that?” he asked a few moments later, panting for breath.   “G-spot for dudes.”   “I thought that was in the ass?”   “There’s this whole thing about it,” Eli dismissed the topic, not really interested in giving an anatomy lesson in the middle of sucking Klitz’s dick.   Eli pressed again, but this time applied a constant pressure and began to rub in small circles.    Klitz choked on a moan and his hips bucked up. His cock drooled out precum like crazy. “ Fuck Eli,” he moaned breathily.   Eli grinned wide as he watched Klitz fall apart, literally, under his own two hands. “Yeah? That feel good, Klitzy?” Eli knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Klitz say it.   Klitz’s eyes were closed and his head was tilted back in pleasure. “Yes, fuck, so good.”   Eli spread the new precum down Klitz’s cock and took him back into his mouth. Klitz placed both hands in Eli’s hair and used his grip to gently guide Eli’s head as he fucked his mouth. At first, the thought of Klitz having so much control like that over Eli worried him, but he was now finding out that he actually really enjoyed it. He trusted Klitz to not hurt him, so he relaxed and went down further and let Klitz thrust into his throat.   The new pressure had Klitz groaning, “Wait wait, Eli, I’m close.”   It was nice of Klitz to warn him. Also nice of him to pull Eli off of him last time, automatically assuming Eli didn’t want come in his mouth, and at the time, he’d assumed correctly. But since tasting come, it wasn’t as offensive as Eli expected it to be, and he wanted Klitz to finish in his mouth this time.   Eli created a vacuum with his mouth and sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks. Realizing Eli was gonna let him come in his mouth, Klitz groaned and began to push his hips a little deeper. Eli applied more pressure on his perineum and Klitz’s cock got impossibly harder, got fucking bigger in his mouth, and that was the only warning he got before Klitz was coming down his throat.   Klitz used his hands on Eli’s head to push his head nearly all the way down, forcing Eli to take all of it while he came. His hips moved in small pulses into Eli’s mouth, pushing it so deep, Eli didn’t even taste his come.   After the last big pulse, Klitz released Eli’s head. Eli pulled off and caught his breath. The brief lack of air made him dizzy. That combined with the fact that Klitz had forced his head down and came down his throat, Eli was so aroused he couldn’t think straight, which was strange because that was the thing he was worried about the most earlier.   Eli looked at Klitz, and he must’ve looked seriously fucked up, because Klitz became extremely concerned and began apologizing over and over again.   Eli shook his head, thoughts fuzzy, and he couldn’t focus on anything except the burning need to come.   “Klitz, I’m-I-I can’t, I’m so close, I can’t–“ Eli babbled, lust drunk.   Klitz held out his arms like he was welcoming Eli in for a hug, and Eli immediately took the opportunity to get up onto Klitz’s lap. He kissed Klitz desperately, not caring about where his mouth had just been.   “Please Klitz, you g–you gotta touch me, Klitz, I’m– please ,” Eli begged.   Klitz undid Eli’s pants and quickly took him in hand. Eli sobbed in relief as Klitz started jacking Eli off, not slowly, but definitely not fast enough for how badly Eli needed it.   Eli braced one hand on Klitz’s shoulder and one hand on the wall behind him and frantically fucked Klitz’s fist.   Eli didn’t cry during sex, no way.   But he was so hard, he was in tears.   Klitz had never seen him so worked up. He looked at Eli’s face, his forehead scrunched up, eyes watery and tears flowing down his face. He began to whine on every breath he took.   “Eli,” Klitz said, voice hoarse, and for some reason, that was all Eli needed to push him over the edge. He moaned as he came on Klitz’s chest, hips not slowing in Klitz’s hand until he started to twitch with sensitivity. That was probably the hardest he’d ever come in his life. His chest heaved as he came down. He met Klitz’s eye and was startled at the intense look of amazement and reverence.   “That was so fucking hot, Eli.”   Eli turned red and brushed off the compliment. Crying during sex wasn’t hot, it was pathetic. He lifted up his shirt and used the bottom edge of it to wipe his face of drool and tears. In doing so, he noticed Klitz’s shirt.   “Oh…” Eli winced. Klitz looked down at his chest. “Sorry dude.”   “It’s okay, I can wash it.”   Eli swung his leg over Klitz’s lap, climbing off of him. Klitz wiped his hand on his shirt, then stood up and took it off, trading it for his boxers. Eli pulled off his shirt and shucked his jeans and flopped down into bed. Klitz joined him and rolled onto his side to kiss Eli.   Eli scowled at him. “Dude, I just had your dick in my mouth,” he said, leaning away from Klitz’s lips.   “I don’t care,” Klitz chased them.   “You’re so fucking gross,” Eli said, but let Klitz kiss him anyway.   “Says the guy who just had my dick in his mouth?”   Eli pushed Klitz away with a hand on his face. “Shut up.”   They laid in bed together and watched tv, not really wanting to go to sleep just yet. They scooched around until they found a comfortable position, Eli’s head resting on Klitz’s chest and Klitz’s arm wrapped around Eli’s shoulders. He traced random patterns on his arm.   Things seemed to have cooled down between them. Eli wasn’t angry anymore, and as far as Eli could tell, his comment wasn’t bothering Klitz. It probably wasn’t the best idea to have sex instead of talking about their problems, but talking about feelings was for sissies. If it was a problem that could be solved with a blowjob, then was it really that big of a problem in the first place?   The sleepy stillness in the room and between the two caused Eli’s mind to wander. Mostly, it landed on his… research. How weird would it be to bring this up right now?   Since the first time watching two guys do it, Eli had been a little (a lot) curious about the experience for himself.   “Hey Klitz?”   They were both almost falling asleep, so Klitz simply hummed to show he was listening.   “What do you think about. Uh. Anal?”   Klitz’s hand stopped on Eli’s arm. “Uhhhhh… I don’t really know,” Klitz said, now much more awake than he had been before Eli’s potentially distressing question. Eli could tell Klitz didn’t want to answer directly because he wasn’t sure which way the conversation would go.   “Okay, but you’ve like… you know about it,” Eli stated more than asked.   Klitz huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, I get the concept.”   “Alright, cool. Good. Great. Um… yeah, cool.”   “What do you think about anal?”   Eli honestly didn’t think about where he was even going with this conversation when he brought it up. He wanted to try anal. Was he just supposed to outright ask Klitz to fuck him?   “I kinda wanna try it.”   “Uh. Okay. Do you mean like…” Klitz said, in a careful attempt to navigate this conversation in the right way. Of course, this meant he expected Eli to actually say what he wanted.   “Jesus christ, Klitz, with you!”   “Okay, sorry. I wasn’t sure. Just didn’t wanna get the wrong idea…”   “Fuck,” Eli rolled his eyes.   “Okay, well. We don’t really know how to do… that.”   “I’ve seen gay porn, I know some things.”   “You watch gay porn?” Klitz asked, slightly amused.   Eli’s face got hot. For some reason, that admission embarrassed him despite having Klitz’s cock in his throat like thirty minutes ago. “Fuck you dude, never mind,” Eli rolled away from Klitz.   “No, hey, I wanna talk about this,” Klitz said as he moved onto his side to face Eli. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at where Eli was laying with his head on a pillow. Eli glared at him. “Come on. You said you wanna try it, right? Who’s doing who?”   The way Klitz said it—who is instead of who would —like it was actually going to happen and wasn’t just a perverted hypothetical made Eli’s stomach flip with excitement.   “I want you… to do… me,” Eli spoke slowly and quietly and looked away from Klitz.   Klitz leaned over Eli and kissed him. “I can do that.”   Holy shit, they were actually talking about this. Klitz didn’t seem freaked out or put off or anything. He actually looked kinda excited, which eased Eli’s nerves. They discussed some of the smaller details like when it would happen (Sunday), where it would happen (Eli’s house, duh), who would be getting lube and condoms (Klitz). It was an awkward conversation to have. Discussing the unsexy details instead of just doing it was super lame, but it had to be done if they wanted to actually… do it.    “Okay. It’s happening then.”   Holy shit. Eli and Klitz were gonna do it. They were gonna have real actual sex. Klitz was gonna fuck Eli. Holy shit. Klitz was gonna fuck Eli. That thought made heat curl in Eli’s stomach.   Klitz took his glasses off and set them down on the nightstand before turning off the lamp. He kissed Eli goodnight.   Holy shit.   They were gonna do it.

Sabrina's Story of How She Got into Exhibitionism Hi, my name is Sabrina and this is my story of my unexpected entrance into exhibitionism. Two years ago, if you had even suggested that I would enjoy exposing my body to strangers, I would have immediately told you that you were wrong and stupid at even thinking that I could do that. Well people do change, don't they? I had just turned 37 years old and had also just had my 18th wedding anniversary to my one and only love and lover, Cliff, who is three months younger than me. We have two children, a girl and a boy. My daughter just graduated high school and joined the Air Force. My son will graduate next year. I had been feeling weak, run-down, and light-headed lately so I made an appointment to see my doctor. She told me I had Type-2 diabetes and put me on some meds and said that I should start getting more exercise and to watch what I eat from now on and it wouldn't hurt to lose about 40 to 50 lbs. Summer was coming to an end soon so it wouldn't be so hot outside to start my exercising. Cliff suggested I ask Chip, my son, if I could start riding his bike since he hardly used it anymore since he now drove our old car that he and his sister use to share all the time now. He said no problem so Cliff cleaned it up and lubed the chain and gears on it. I started off my exercises easy by just riding down the sidewalk to State Rd. 100, which is about a half mile from my house, and back a couple times in the mornings after Chip left for school. Once I felt comfortable with that distance, I turned left at SR 100 and rode the bake path about a mile to the entrance to the State Park then turn around and head home. I did this once a day for a couple weeks then did it twice and then three and four times a day. Thank goodness I live in the south where it is still relatively warm here most of the winter so riding that bike outside wasn't bad. At the beginning of January, I purchased a yearly pass to the park and began to ride the 5+ miles of bike paths in the park as well. By this time I was feeling stronger and had already lost 15 lbs. By the time warmer weather had returned, I had lost a total of about 25 lbs. and felt great. The only problem now was the pants I usually wore to ride the bike in were getting loose and threating to fall off me. Cliff told me one night that he could see the difference in my body and that he liked it. He then suggested I buy and wear some bike shorts to ride in. I had seen other women wearing them and it did look like they would be better to ride in but they also looked tight and would mold to my big butt and I didn't like the idea of showing that off. I told Cliff that, he chuckled he told me stop being silly. He said my butt was looking much finer than it did before I started riding that bike, that's why he's had trouble keeping his hands off it lately. He said that if he were a girl and had an ass that looked that good, he would be proud to show it off. After taking my shower, I was getting dressed for bed and noticed my panties wear also getting baggy on my ass. I then checked out my ass for the first time in quite a while, I thought that maybe Cliff was right, it did look better! It was tight and toned up where it used to be saggy and baggy. Maybe I would look alright in some bike shorts. I bought one pair the next day after my ride and went home to try them on. I wore them around the house and surprised how cool and comfortable they were and I decided my ass looked OK in them, except for the VPL [visible panty line], my t-shirt would cover that, so I decide to wear them the next day. I enjoyed them so much; once I got home I went to the store and got a couple more pair. I also started to dress different in the evening around the house so Cliff could play with my ass easier. I was feeling more alive in the sexual apartment than I use to lately. I guess it was because of my weight loss and Cliff's increase in his affections to me lately. Cliff use to be all handzy around me when we were younger and I loved it and now he was getting that way again, I've found I still like it. He is once again grabbing my tits and ass whenever he gets the chance. The difference between now and when we were young is that I now let him grab me when we are in public. When I was young, it embarrassed me when he fondled my ass in public, now I like it when he does it. I've also noticed men are now checking me out more lately than they used to and I've found I'm enjoying their stares. I've packed away all my old PJ's and started wearing just mid-thigh T-shirts and panties around the house. I have never worn a bra at night and I've gotten to the point I don't were one around the house anymore. Cliff says my breast are still riding almost as high as when we got married. Cliff liked my new nighttime attire and keeps reaching under my shirt to grab my ass or crotch. I had to slap at his hands more than once because Chip was around. He told me he didn't care if Chip seen him grab my ass. The boy was old enough to know what he was up to and for me to not worry about him, plus it was educational. I already knew Chip had seen my panties a few times when I bent over in front of him and I had already gotten use to that so I decided to let Cliff have his fun, plus I liked the grab-ass too! At Cliff's suggestion, after he had stripped me when we went to bed a few times, we started sleeping nude together again. We hadn't done that since the kids were 5 or 6 years of age. I found I've missed the cuddling naked with Cliff and sleeping nude and am enjoying sleeping nude again, plus the sex has become a lot more frequent too. Before losing my weight, sex was once or twice a week, now it is almost a nightly thing. We've even fooling around more than that on weekends. A couple months later, it was getting quite warm and I was getting quite warm and sweaty during my now 10 plus mile daily ride. I noticed another girl I rode and talked with once in a while had started wearing just a small sports-bra as a top and some low-rise stretch short-shorts to ride in. I asked where she got the shorts from and she told me where and how much they cost. I was feeling a lot better about my body at this time and although it would be out of character for me to wear so little in public. I had gotten quite conservative in my clothing over the past few years. I guess because of my weight and being a mom. Anyway, I felt like I wanted to give it a try, but chicken out buying the smaller sports bra. I did buy a couple bigger sport-bras than the girl wore and decided to give them a try. I was cooler wearing them than a t-shirt. A couple days later, I noticed my VPL again and didn't like how it looked with my tight bike shorts. And then from off who knows where, I got a naughty idea to wear my bike shorts without my panties. I was already not wearing a bra under my sports-bra, so why not got without panties too. When I pulled them on alone the next morning, it felt strange, but it was a nice strange feeling, so I decide to go ahead and give it a try. I liked it! I liked the feeling of being naughty and not wearing panties in public plus I felt cooler down there also. I had never wore anything outside my house in public without underwear, except my swimsuit, so as I rode my bike I began to wonder what it would feel like to wear my regular shorts without panties, maybe even a dress without underwear. I know it was naughty and good girls didn't dress that way but I decided I still wanted to give it a try one day. I also noticed I was getting a strange tan pattern over my body from riding in the sun so much and decide to get a small bikini to get a tan in my backyard after my ride. I usually left the house to ride about 8am and was back around 11am and before noon I was lying out getting some sun. After about a week of wearing my bikini in my backyard, I noticed I had a lot of privacy in the part of the backyard I did my sunning in and I knew I had the house to myself until 4 PM, at first I untied the strings across my back to not leave any white lines there. Then I dared to take off my top and tan my breast. I had never felt the sun on them before and it felt wonderful. I tanned topless for a few days and then decide to try nude sunbathing. It felt wonderful lying naked in the sun. I now do it as often as I can. I first stripped out of my bikini once in the private corner of my backyard but after a week or so, I started wearing just a towel wrapped around me to my lounge chair. After a couple weeks of that, I ended up just carrying the towel one hand and a drink in the other as I walked naked across my backyard to my chair. It felt wonderful to walk naked outside in the sunlight. My husband noticed my tan and my disappearing tan-lines and questioned me about it. I told him about the tan-lines from my sports bra and shorts and how I had slowly progressed to tanning nude in the backyard when I was alone. He said he understood and approved of my nude tanning and how he wished he could be there to see me like that. I told him to drop by around lunch one day and he might catch me out there. He just smiled and said he just might surprise me one day. I said, "I dare you", inside I was hoping he would stop by and catch me naked. Lying naked in the sun also got my fantasies going too; one was Cliff making love to me outside in the sunlight. We have never done that but find I wouldn't mind one bit if he wanted to take me out there. I think I would enjoy it! I also decided to go buy those low-rise short-shorts and smaller sport-bras to ride my bike in and I also quit wearing panties under those short-shorts too. I found I was enjoying riding around in public practically naked. I even started wearing just my bikini top one in a while with my low-rise short-shorts while I rode my bike. I was now down to my target weight, my sugar was staying down, and I felt and looked good. One day I was in 'Walmart' and I noticed the store was having a sale on sun-dresses. I picked out a couple halter style dresses and tried them on. They both came about mid-thigh but fit me well. I hadn't worn any dresses that short since Cliff and I dated but I knew I wanted them and that I would be willing to wear them in public. I knew I was looking pretty good right now and I wanted to celebrate and show off my new body. As luck would have it, Cliff called me while I was on the way home. He told me not to start supper because he had won a drawing at his job and had won two free dinners at a local Bar-B-Q place we like. I knew then I was wearing one of my new halter-dresses to dinner and surprise Cliff. I gave Chip $20.00 when he came home and told him to get him a burger or a pizza for supper because his Dad and I would be going out for dinner. Cliff was shocked but happy to see me in that short halter-dress and later at home, he was really surprised when he found that all I wore under it was a new pair of tiny thong panties I had bought in the spur of the moment that day also, I'd sworn in the past I would never wear thong panties but I was feeling a lot sexier lately and decide to give them a try. He snatched those panties off me and took me hard and fast. I will have to get me more to wear if he does that when I wear them, I should have started wearing them sooner! A few days later, while out shopping and while passing the sleepwear section in 'Walmart', I seen some low-rise satin short-shorts, they were so light and thin they almost weighted nothing, I had to have them. I bought 2 of them, one in black and one I light blue. I then found matching satin crop tops to go with the shorts in the same colors. I got those too. I couldn't believe I was even contemplating wearing them when I rode my bike but I knew I wanted to at least give it a try. And I did! I felt like I was naked while I rode my bike. I wore the black set first. I felt so naughty, but it was exhilarating and exciting at the same time. I knew people knew I was almost naked in public but I found I didn't care! I like knowing they knew that! I found was also very horny when I got home. I didn't expect my new found exhibitionism would get me so horny. I was so horny I didn't notice Cliffs' car I the garage. I rushed through the house stripping my top and shorts off as I headed to my lounge chair in the back yard. I had planned on the way home to jill myself off while lying in the sun. I was shoving two fingers rapidly in and out of my newly saved bald pussy, I did that this morning before leaving when I notice my bush showed a little when I put on those loose legged short-shorts. I didn't want my bush to show. When I opened my eyes, there in front of me was my naked husband stroking his nice hard cock. I surprised him and me when I hollered, "Oh God Yes! I need that! Fuck me! Ram that cock in me!" I had never been the one for naughty talk before, I don't ever remember talking like that to Cliff before but he didn't complain but his eyes did open wide. He just gave me a big smile and gave me what I wanted and needed. Cliff wasn't mad at me when I explained in detail at what I had been doing the last couple months and accumulating with what I had done today. When I put back on the satin top and shorts and showed him all that I had worn riding in today, he attacked me and took me from behind right there on the living room floor, leaving the shorts on! He just slipped the crotch of the shorts to the side. It had been years since he took me doggy style. I hope we make use for that position often now. Afterwards, he told me to take a shower and get dressed in my halter dress again; he had decided me wanted to take out for lunch as a reward for being such a nice naughty girl. He had seen my floral print dress last week so I decided to wear the solid yellow one this time. After pulling the dress on, I noticed I could see my nipples though the top. For half a second, I decide to NOT wear the dress but since I was still slightly turned on from the sex and my exposure this afternoon, I decide to hell with it. I'm going braless and I really didn't care if people see my nipples though the dress. I started going braless after I met Cliff and he liked it then and a couple of my tops were a little thin. And now I was now looking forward to wearing this thin dress braless and to people noticing them! I opened my underwear drawer and stopped. I suddenly felt like being pantiless too. I wondered if I could really do it. I had thought about it a couple times but never had the nerve to try it. But again still feeling sexy and a bit randy from my sex today, I decide that I would go pantiless. I have gone naked under a couple long ankle length dresses in public before but that was years ago, early in our marriage and that was to tease cliff, but I have never worn a dress that came halfway between my ass and knees pantiless before. And I could feel my pussy tingling at the mere thought of going uncovered in public. Then I wondered how long it would take Cliff to find out his wife was being a naughty girl and how would he react. Would he get angry at me or would he turn me over and take me right there. I hope it would be the latter and I decide I would let him take me wherever and whenever he wanted, even in public if he wanted. I was that horny! Cliff was in the kitchen taking his meds when he saw me; he nearly choked on the water he was drinking. He said that if he wasn't already worn out from the sex we already had that day, he would bend me over the couch and take me again. I said that sounded like a good idea but that I really was hungry and would like to eat, plus that he needed to eat to get his energy back up so he could bend me over the couch when we got back home. He smiled, gave me a kiss and told me that it sounded like a good plan. I could feel the breeze blowing under my short dress, tickling my wet pussy when we walked to the car. Feeling the wind tickling my bald pussy felt nice, I might just have to wear my dresses pantiless more often! I then thought that maybe I needed to get a few more short dresses to wear. Almost every dress I owned was around knee length and a few came between my knees and ankles. I knew I would start wearing those pantiless as some as I got a chance to wear one. While we ate, Cliff keep looking at my nipples and asked how I felt knowing people could see them. I told him that for some reason it really wasn't bothering me and I'm sure I'm not the first girl to show her nipples under a thin top and that I probably wouldn't be the last. He then asked how come I started dressing like this lately and not years ago. I told him I wasn't sure but that I think it had something to do with my recent weight loss and exercising I had been doing. I was feeling good about how I was now looking and I felt better than I have in years plus I notice my sexual libido had increased lately too. I now wasn't afraid to show my body in public anymore. In fact, I've discovered I like being looked at and I am not afraid to show-off a little bit now and then. I asked him if he minded me showing off my new body a little. He laughed a little and said the only problem he had with me showing off a little was that he seemed to be getting hard-ons a lot more lately. I laughed at his remark and told him I had another surprise for him later that I though he just might enjoy. I wasn't sure if I would but now I knew I was. He asked me what it was and I laughed and told him, "Now now, but I promise you I will tell you later and I'm sure you'll like it." I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. When I noticed no one seemed to be looking, I reached under my dress and touched my pussy in pubic for the first time ever! An found it was as wet as I could ever remember. Then I got a naughty thought, I pushed one finger inside me and then presented it to Cliff. Telling him to smell what he was doing to me. We left soon after that. Once to the car, I asked Cliff to be a gentleman for me and to open my door. When I sat in the car, I sat down very unladylike, exposing my pantiless pussy to my hubby. His eyes got as big as silver dollars as I sat there, not moving, with my legs spread wide for him. "See" I said, "I told you I had another surprise for you. This is my first time ever going pantiless in a dress in public and this one is a bit short. If you like it, I'll do it for you again sometime. That is if you don't mind." He pulled me from the car and placed a big kiss on me. Cliff said, "You can go pantiless whenever you want honey! I love you dressing like this. I just wish you had started doing this years ago. If you want to quit wearing underwear altogether, that would be fine with me too. Just expect me to fuck you a lot more often and in location other than out house." He looked around, "Starting right now!" He closed the car door then turned me around bending me over putting my head in the car window. I heard his zipper and two seconds later, he was entering me. I was so wet and ready, he went all the way in on his first push. We had a quickie in a public parking lot during the early afternoon and I liked it! I decided I wouldn't mind having sex in public more if it felt this good. I started to look around to see if anyone could see us but before long, I didn't care and started hoping someone would see us. We had now had sex three times in one day. We hadn't done that since our honeymoon. I basically quit wearing bras and panties for Cliff, and well, me too! I found I enjoyed wearing all my clothes without panties and I don't wear bras with any of my tops anymore. Some of them are quite thin. I love the looks I get when someone notices my tits and nipple showing through. I don't wear any panties under my t-shirts at night anymore either. I have to be careful around Chip though, I don't think a young boy wants to see his mother's pussy, right? If he has seen it, he hasn't said anything. But he has been hanging around the house at night more than usual lately. I know he seen my panties under my t-shirt a few times in the past but he made no big deal about it. But he is a normal 17 year old boy and if he did happen to see my bare ass or pussy, so what? It won't kill him. It could be considered educational, Right? I realize how loose the leg openings were on my satin shorts after Cliff screwed me while I wore then the other day. I experimented with them one day as I rode around the park. I pulled them aside and found I could ride around with my pussy uncovered. The ride around the park is usually quiet and I hardly see anybody when I ride so I wasn't worried about exposing myself to children or families. I even experimented with fingering myself as I rode. And 'Yes' I did get myself off that first day and I'm sure it will not be my last time doing it. I've also pulled my very short, loose crop-top up almost daily and ride around with my boobs out. The top comes back down easily and quickly if I need to cover myself although my breasts are only covered by a couple inches when the top is down. A couple weeks later after another 'very' enjoyable ride around the park, it began to rain. I hadn't paid attention to the weather before leaving the house, my mind was it the gutter elsewhere. I've rode in the rain before and usually dress for it. Today I was wearing my light blue satin outfit today and I was a good half-hour from my house even on a good weather day. I pulled up under a picnic pavilion for a bit to check out the weather radar on my phone, I keep my phone and ID's in a waterproof pouch on my bike and found out it was going to rain the rest of the day. I would be soaked by the time I got home. I then looked down at my top, it was transparent! My breast and nipples were plainly visible. I might have well have been topless. All of the sudden I perked up. This could be fun! I'm not topless but it looked like I might be. This would be my ultimate show-off in public so far. All of the sudden one of the park rangers pulled up in his pick-up truck, it was one of the ones I thought was cute, he was about 25 with dark hair. You know the ones; tall, dark and handsome! I felt my pussy tingle. He asked if I was alright. I faced him letting him and wanting him to see me and told him I was fine but wet. He told me he could see that. "Good!" I thought. "Get a good look." I told him I guess it was my punishment for not checking the weather before leaving home. He asked if he could give me a lift somewhere. "Yea, I know where you want to take me." I thought, thing is, I was almost tempted to go with him but I wasn't ready to cheat on my husband. I'd get naked for the guy if he asked and let him get a good look at me but no touching, at least not yet and then only if Cliff gave me permission to let another man touch me. But knowing another man might want to have sex with me was a big turn on. I walked slowly right up to his truck window, in the rain, letting him have a good look at my practically nude body while pushing my bike and told him, "No thanks, I deserve this. Plus I don't live far, I'll get wet but I'll be alright. It's not the first time I've rode in the rain. Thanks anyway." I got on the bike and pushed off into the pouring rain. I road with the ranger following behind me. I knew my top was transparent but I wasn't sure about the back of my shorts. If they were as transparent as my top, it probably looked like I was bottomless too. I'm sure the ranger was getting a good look at my ass and I made no attempt to cover-up. That was getting me even hornier! Luckily I didn't have to cross any busy highways in that rain on my ride home. All I had were right turns onto the bike-path and then the sidewalk to my house. I did have a few cars slow to check me out as I rode next to the street while looking like I was naked. I was one horny girl when I got home. I took a few pictures and a short video of me in my wet outfit in the rain so I could show my husband when he got home. I'm sure I'm going to get a nice fucking after he sees them! Especially when I tell him about the park ranger seeing and talking to me like that and that I liked it! I continued my bike riding and expanded my exhibitionism around town. I now went everywhere wearing no bra or panties. Cliff loves it when I wear my short dresses pantiless for him and I love doing it too. I regularly wear only my short sundresses shopping and have on more than a few occasions dared to bend over a little bit too far and flash some unsuspecting male my bare ass and pussy. When I did my first intentional 'flash', it surprised even me at how excited I got when I did it. The juices from my pussy would be running down my leg after my first few flashes which prompted me to do it again soon. I told Cliff about each time I did it and he ended up screwing me, that's one reason I don't regret my flashing. I get cock when he gets home. He has even gone with me on a few of my adventures and watched me do them. He loves watching the reactions of my targets. I also enjoy wearing my satin crop tops when I shop too. I found that when I bent over to get something off the lower shelfs, the top falls away exposing the bottoms of my breast. Around Thanksgiving, Cliff told me of a new guy at work that he had become good friends with and asked if I minded if he asked Danny over for Thanksgiving Dinner. The guy was about 28 and single and had nobody to have dinner with. I told him I had no problems with that and did that mean I needed to wear a bra around him. Cliff said, "Don't you dare! I've been telling him how hot you are lately and I kind of let it slip that you hardly ever wore a bra. You should have seen his eyes open when I said that. I now am looking forward to you 'accidentally' teasing him with them tits. You can wear whatever top you want, that's going to be your choice." I told him I would love to tease him and I promised not to be too obvious that I want him to look at them. I also said it will depend on how warm it is if I wear pants, shorts or a skirt. Cliff smiled and said, "I hope it's a 100 degrees that day and so you get to wear that new short jean skirt and a halter top that day." Well, it was cold and rainy that day so I ended wearing so jeans and a thin yellow tank-top in the house. My nipples were quite obvious through the thin material and Cliff was happy about that. I noticed Danny taking every opportunity to look at them I caught him looking once and just smiled and winked at him. A big smile came to his face when I shook them at him. I told Cliff after we ate I was surprised he hadn't groped me in front of his friend yet, he looked surprised at my suggestion and asked if I'd let him. I said, "Of course I wouldn't mind if you did. Why on earth would I suggest it if I wouldn't let you. Listen, I want you to 'accidentally' help me get some water on the front of my shirt in a little while in front of both of you. I'll then be giving you two a wet t-shirt look and then I'm going to change out of that wet top into one of my satin crop-tops for the rest of the afternoon. You will then have better access to my tits then. If you accidentally end up barring a little tit to him when you do, don't worry about it. You're right; he is a nice guy so I really wouldn't mind baring a tit to him." About 15 minutes later, Danny put a rubber band around the spray nozzle at the sink and when I turn the water on; it sprayed me and soaked the front of my shirt. I loved the look on their faces when I screamed, jumped back, and turned around and faced them both. Success! I looked like a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest. I blurred out, "Oops, sorry about this. Damn you Cliff, I know you had something to do with this. I ought to stay just like this just to spite you but it's cold and now I'm wet. I'm going to put something dry on, excuse me Danny. Sorry about this." I said as I motioned to my wet shirt, drawing his attention once again to my hard, but cold nipples. I put on my black satin crop-top and went back to the kitchen; Cliff came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me telling me he was sorry about getting me wet. I said to him, "You know I hate being cold and wet. You also know that I don't mind getting my shirts wet and showing my nipples as long as it's not cold." I then looked at Danny and asked him, "I hope Cliff making my top wet and see-thru didn't upset you. It's not the first time that's happen to me. It's fun to do when the conditions are right, but today the conditions are not right. I hate being cold!" He said he was fine with what happen and he was just glad I wasn't upset with him seeing them. I told him I was fine with him seeing them. He wasn't the first to see them like that. At that time, Cliff slipped his hands down and under my top, cupping both bare tits in his hands. I asked him what he thought he was doing. All he said was that he was having fun. I told him it felt good but to let go. He said OK, and when let go, his hands dropped down immediately grabbed the bottom of the top and whispered in my ear, "Ready, I'm showing them to him." He them lifted the top up, for the first time ever, he purposely baring my tits to another man. I hesitated a second letting Danny get a good look then pushed my top back down telling Cliff to stop that. Before Danny went home that night, Cliff had lifted my top three times more and before he left, they both finally talked me into taking it off completely and walking around topless. That was so much fun! I was topless for over an hour around two men and both, 'yes both of them', touched and fondled them during that hour. The crotch of my jeans were wet I was so horny. If Cliff had asked me to fuck them both, I was so horny, I don't know if I could have said 'NO'. Having another man, or two men at once fondle and kiss my breast was pure heaven. I could, and would love to do that again one day. Cliff asked me a couple weeks later if I would be willing to wear something daring and sexy to his companies' fancy dress 'New Years' day party this year. I've never wanted to go in the past because I dislike crowds and drunken people and if I went, this would be my first time meeting Cliff's bosses and co-workers. I asked his if he was sure he wanted me to dress daring around his bosses and co-workers and he said it would give him much pleasure showing off his hot, sexy wife to them. I said I would go but I wanted him to pick out which sexy dress he wanted me to wear. He asked how daring could he go and I told him as daring as he dared. We went online and picked out a floor length black satin halter dress. It had a very deep plunge front to almost the waist and narrow straps barely covering my breast and no back at all to just above the crack of my ass. It had a slit from the bottom all the way up to my hip in front of both legs where both slits came to a gold ring. From there the slits continued and curved toward the front plunge, passing a couple more gold rings on the way to the plunge, where they ended at center gold ring. The slit from the hip to the bottom of the plunge on both sides was about two inches wide. Everyone seeing this dress could tell it would be impossible to wear any type of underwear with it. Fine with me there! When the dress came, I tried it on for Cliff. We loved it! Cliff told me that when I was standing up straight and if someone was sitting in a chair beside me, they would be able to look across me, under my dress and see just how bare I was under the dress. I told him I liked knowing that. Friday night of the party came and I was a hit with the men. Everyone seemed impressed with my dress. No one made a big deal about it and I don't know if anyone looked under my dress except for Cliff and he made sure Danny noticed too. I didn't care. I liked knowing people could see my bush, if it were there, if they tried to look. I was surprised when Cliff told me Danny was coming back home with us that night, he didn't like the idea of him driving a long way home while being half-drunk and would be staying the rest of weekend with us since he had nowhere to go. I asked Cliff if he was planning on letting Danny see and play with my tits again. He smiled and said probably, but only if I let him. I smiled at that. Then he whispered in my ear. "Then we will see where it goes from there." I was surprised at his implication but wasn't shocked by it. I have also had some naughty ideas since that night. I'm already thinking of letting them undress me once we get home and remain naked around them until Cliff takes me to bed. Or maybe letting them both take me to bed, if I could only be that lucky. Cliff did mention after our last night together, he had unexpectedly enjoyed watching another play with my tits and wondered how he would feel seeing me naked with another man. He told that just thinking about it got him hard. I didn't tell him it got me wet too thinking about being naked with another man. I would be happy with just being naked around other men. I really wasn't interested with having sex with another man but if my husband wanted me to I'd do it for him. Well, I was naked in less than five minutes after getting home. Cliff actually told Danny to help me get undress while he went to get some 'Alka Seltzer". I remained naked and let both guys play with my tits and both fingered me to orgasm. I thanked them by giving them both blow-jobs. Something else I've enjoyed doing a lot more of since I lost my weight. I did them occasionally for Cliff over the years but lately, I've gotten to enjoying having a cock in my mouth and swallowing the cum a lot more. I've enjoyed sex in many more ways lately too. Blow-jobs, anal, public places, I think I'm open for almost anything now. When we went to bed, I purposely left our bedroom door open and left the bed-stand light on and was more vocal than normal, hoping Danny would appear at the door and watch. I don't know if he did or not I just know I needed to be fucked after giving two blow-jobs that night. Luckily Chip was away for the weekend with the neighbor kids and wouldn't be back till Sunday night so I didn't even get dressed Saturday morning. I wanted to stay naked all day and I did. I also got fucked by Cliff that morning as Danny watched and then Cliff told Danny to help himself to my pussy. Cliff smiled and said I looked wonderful as he watched Danny pound away at my pussy. I swear, Danny is only the second man to get to go there and my husband was watching me have sex with him. Boy, I love that man! And I told him that as he watched Danny fuck me. Later that afternoon, I had two men in me at once and they made use of every hole in me. My God that was fun! I was their sex slave all weekend I was willing to do whatever they wanted me to do. We even went out to dinner that night with me wearing only my yellow halter dress. Both of them fingered my pussy under the table while we were in the restaurant and I noticed at least two men watch them as they fingered me. I just didn't care! I surprised them both by removing my dress while on the way back to the car and walking naked across the parking lot the last two hundred feet and I was seem by two couples. I ended sucking Danny off in the back seat as Cliff drove us home. We all slept, well tried to sleep, in the same bad that night. Sleeping with two men felt great. I've decided I like being an exhibitionist slut! Cliff promised me if I continued being a naughty girl, it would not be the last time Danny would come over. He then surprised me when he said, "Who knows honey. I might even consider finding a couple more guys to become friends with one day. I'd bet you'd like that wouldn't you?" My heart skipped a beat. Did he just insinuate that he might let me have sex with three or more guys at once? I knew I'd sure be willing to try it at least once.

Kinship Texas. Population 2021. Same as the year. A quiet little one-horse town, unless you count the Harley's. At one time it was a bustling little community of small family-owned businesses. Surrounding a large Aviation parts manufacturer, it kept the locals fed and clothed. Over a hundred years earlier there used to be ranches and farms. One horse per family in most cases. Back then Kinship was named Next of Kin. Graveyards for fallen soldiers escaping the Alamo. Don't believe what you've read in the History books. Hell, there's even a family with the last name Crockett living here. Boone even. Speaking of... "How's it coming back there Boone?" A stunning redhead with her long red mane pulled around her shoulders lifts her head, its tips died black as if feathers. Swigging a drink from a tin flask she waits on a reply after buzzing stops. Eyes narrow from a hard night of drinking. "You try finishing a tat when your canvas is as naked as the day she was born." Her native American tattoo artist scowls wiping away blood from her upper back. He had been working on this woman for 18 hours straight. She had barely flinched. Unlike his dick. Halting only to smoke a cigarette and rub one off every four hours behind her. This bitch was fucking fine. He had known her since childhood. Both born here in the early 90's. "Quit stroking your tattoo gun and finish up. My train leaves in..." She reaches to her right for a pocket watch dangling from her jeans next to her..."8 hours, 15 minutes. Gonna be done by then?" "You're the one wanting the full back and shoulders done. Be glad I finished your tits yesterday. How are those hands holding them up?" "Reaching for the sky Pardner." "You're one tough girl Sadie Lynn. So, where's the Army deploying you next?" "Nowhere, I'm out. Staying stateside this tour. I'm done with deserts." "No shit. I thought you were career. Vacay in Hawaii?" "I wish. Uncle Sam's got me going to Kansas. Got hired as a head of security at a place called Wyndham Explorations. Tornado alley no less." "You always did give good blowjobs." He sighs firing up his gun to add more ink. "As if you would know. Must have been a lot of bragging while I was gone." She rolls her eyes. "If I get you done early..." "Not gonna happen Tonto." "Now that's just racist Sadie Lynn." "Fuck you Comanche Boy." "I'm older than you White Squaw with pretty colors." "By two years." "I remember wrestling with you as a kid." "I whipped your ass every time." "Untrue. Be more respectful. Your ass is right here for me to whip." He dares to slap her ass as he lifts his needle away from filling in the wings of an eagle. "Good thing that's not your tattooing hand. Soon as I get up, I'm using that bowie knife by my boot to cut those fingers off." "Why? So, I don't do this?" He jabs a pinky into her anal pucker. "So dead. I swear." He laughs at her. She merely scowls and takes another drink from her flask. "Wish you had more time here. My Grandfather would love a visit from you." "Sorry Boone. Between burying my own Grandpa and tying up his will I barely had time to sit here with you. Give Newton my best." "He did want to give you something. Ride up there with me for thirty minutes before your train?" "Fine! Finish the bird before I flip you the talons." "Now that you mention it, the gold watch looks damn good in the eagle's talons." "That was important to me. I appreciate the perfection in your talents Boone." "I have many talents." "Yeah, yeah! Think with your tattoo hand not the one on my ass. My luck you'll trace your hand on my butt cheek." "Interesting idea." He strategically places his hand over her butt as if planning. She shakes her ass to change his mind. That called for another drink. "Is that your father's flask?" "Handed down." She lifts it to show off, "Sixth generation possession. Been in my family since 1865. My Great yada yada yada Grandpappy Jessup was one of the first Texas Rangers. That's why there's a star etched into the pewter. Little wore down in spots but it's there." "Funny that he was a Texas Ranger, but your last name is Outlaw." "I know right? He disappeared without a trace in 1877. Word, was he caught wind of some bad hombres in the Texas Rangers and they had him killed. No proof of that, but it's out there. Definitely not on Ancestry.com." "I recall hearing that story now. When we were teenagers. You wrote an essay on the Rangers your sophomore year." "You remember that?" She hisses. "I also remember the Teacher ripping it up calling it hogwash. Not right." "Mr. Butler was a prick. I barely passed his history class." Boone hesitates to clean her wounds when he hears motorcycles revving outside his Ghost Town Ink parlor. It used to be an old mercantile. Barely up to code these days. Sadie Outlaw lifts her head groggily from the booze intake. Two days of hard drinking was just now taking its toll. Definitely no lightweight. She could drink most men under the table. Stirring Boone felt uneasy about the new arrivals. "You better get your clothes on." "Why? As if I'm afraid of a few bikers." "You may be a badass in the Army Sadie, but we're talking gangs here. That's Korso and his crew, the Copperheads." She stares out a lone picture window in the front of Boone's shop, to see six burly bikers with enough hair to be women. She corks her flask and reaches over for her knife. Sliding it closer she grins. Nothing spooked the Outlaw. "Keep inking." "Your gangbang Sadie." "You're here as back up. Break out your tomahawk." "Already have it handy." It was in a specially designed slot beneath his table believe it or not. "Can't be too handy if your free hands still rubbing my ass cheek." "Sorry." He removes it not even realizing it was still hovering. Approaching the front door Jake Korso barged in with the sound of a jingling doorbell over the threshold. He was a good 280 pounds of muscle, tattoos, and beard. Following him in were two others, less threatening, but ugly just the same. "Afternoon Boone Tickle Bear." "Korso. What brings you to my reservation?' The burly biker rubs his beard looking over Sadie. "Mighty fine canvas you got there. Howdy Ma'am." He winks at her. "Stop being respectful. You know I'm no Ma'am. Call it as you see it." She narrows her eyes at him while sifting through her jeans for a pack of cigarettes and a butane lighter. Cig to her lips she lets it dangle as the men size her up. "Nice work there Boone." Korso looks over Sadie's shoulders, his eyes trailing over her back to just above her butt crack along the small of her spine, there a very ornate logo of a skull with a crossing of a rifle and a blade. "Special Forces? One shot, One kill. Now isn't that interesting. What's the fine print say?" "It says, Thank You for Your Service." She huffs. "Damn! That's hot." The two other bikers seemed impressed, both puckering their lips at each other. "Why are you here Korso?" Boone sets his tattoo gun aside in favor of standing tall. "Easy Indian. I'm not here for trouble. Just waiting on a package delivery. Damn!" He strokes his beard, "You wanted me to call it how I see it...that is one extra tight ass." "I hear that a lot. Military style. Try bouncing a quarter off of it." Sadie lights her cigarette and takes a drag without using her fingers, exhaling a thin line of smoke. "I'm sending up smoke signals Boone. Get to work on my tat. Time's a ticking." The bikers admire her fearlessness under pressure. Being totally nude in a compromising position, knowing they would love to manhandle her. They could tell she was tough. "Mind if I get some privacy here?" She hisses without looking at any of them. Boone moves to cover up Sadie's lower body with a towel. Sadie wouldn't have it. "What are you, my masseuse? Get that rag off me." Hearing her Boone frowns. She was trying too hard to be the badass. The bikers would call her out eventually. Removing the towel Boone settles in his lean over her and begins tattooing again. One of the other two bikers moves around Boone making him uneasy. "Relax. I'm only checking out her other tats. Rattlesnake coiling around both legs." "Not a Copperhead." She growls. "Too bad. You'd be one fine ole' lady." "Nice tan for a redhead. No tan lines even." The third biker noticed. "When you're in a fuckin' desert like Afghanistan for six years you have lots of time to fill. Suns harsh, so am I." "You talk big." Korso nods, "No AK-47's here in Kinship." "Don't need one. AK-47's is for pussies. I prefer a Norwegian HK416. Battleax with kick." "Nice." The man behind her eyes her parted legs. A sweet pinkness clamped tightly like a clam made his mouth water. "The Swedewacker or me?" She winces taking another drag. "Both." He chuckled. "Fellas!" Boone rallied to her rescue, "She's on a timer here. Her train leaves in less than 8 hours and I have at least six hours to finish this tat. Can you please wait outside for your package?" "Calm down Brother." Korso raises his palms. "It's hot out there." "Hotter in here." The third biker known as Roadkill chuckled crouching in front of Sadie. She blows smoke in his face with a wink. Swatting the nicotine aside he smirks for effect. Noting her thong laying with her bra and other clothing he stands picking it up to inhale it. "Oh, that's beautiful." She lifts her head eying his enjoyment, "Those won't fit your fat ass." "My big dick wouldn't fit in that tight ass pussy." 'Had bigger than you, I'm sure." "Damn you got spunk." "What part of privacy don't you get?" She hisses with a bitter bite. "Beware Brothers." Boone shakes his head. "I think she's all talk." Beastro, the second biker chuckles. "These snakes here lead up to some fangs?" His hand caresses her inner thighs, easing in between her leg's mere inches from her pussy. "Only one way to find out." She reopens her flask taking a drink before corking it again and setting it aside. She winks at Roadkill still sniffing at her thin white thong. As Beastro rubs fingers along her slit Boone reaches for his hand. Korso in turn pats his concealed Glock. "Like that Chica?" He grins toward his friends. Nodding she clamps her inner thighs hard around his hand pinning him in. Rolling over she drags him sideways into an awkward stance. Raising her butane lighter she ignites a fire and spits her whisky at Korso. A blinding flash of flame makes him flinch. Leaping off the table holding her bowie knife up to Korso's chin while Beastro falls to the floor at their feet, she leers at Roadkill who had pulled his gun. Before any further violence could ensue the bikers outside whistled loudly. "Bet I can sever his carotid and blind you with his blood before you get off a shot Panty Waste." Roadkill looks at Jake. Korso's attention dropped to her 38C's with hand tattoos palming both breasts. Both hands with a middle finger pointed high flipping him the birds. "Holy shit!" Beastro grunts from the floor looking up between her legs. "Bitch has Rattler heads bearing fangs over her cunt." "Bet my venoms tastier than yours. I let your hand go you get up and walk out of here. Let me get my artwork finished in peace. Pleasure was all mine." Korso notes a Police Bronco outside. An Officer getting out. "Yaeger's here. Put your blade away Hotstuff. No threats." She unclamps her upper thighs releasing Beastro to wave his arm to regain circulation. She smirks. "Just imagine what I can do if your dick was in there. Maybe your face." "Damn! Bitch is crazy." Another jingle of the door, a large older Cop entered removing his sunglasses. Eying Sadie from head to toe he shakes his head. "Same ole' Sadie Outlaw. Trouble at every turn. Gentlemen? Not so gentle I'm sure...word of advice? Find yourselves another hookup. How many confirmed kills you got now Sadie?" "Forty-two shy of Chris Kyle's record Wyatt. Not even a Sniper." "How's about with that knife there?" "27. Four from thirty feet away." "Jesus!" Roadkill tosses her thong on a chair. "Keep 'em to remember me by." She growls. "I'll pass." "Outside Boys." Sheriff Wyatt Yaeger encourages the bikers with a nod. "Nice work Boone. My grandson Duke might hit you up here soon. He's been talking crazy. Something about a cobra. Too many snakes in these parts as it is. Copperheads. Rattlers..."He eyes Sadie's long legs. "Good to see you again Sadie. How long you in town? Deployed again?" "Out for good Wyatt." She slaps Beastro on the ass in passing. Looking over his shoulder he sees her blow him a kiss. "See you around lover. Gonna say anything about my indecent exposure Wyatt?" "Would it do any good?" Yaeger frowns. "You know you always liked the girls." She points at her tits. "The boys don't like you much though. As you can tell by their hissy fit." By the boys she was referring to her twin rattler tattoos surrounding her thighs and snapping fangs at her cunt. "Nice birds. Give my best to your Momma." He tips his Stetson and takes his leave. Before resuming her outstretched position on the cushioned tattoo recliner, she watches Wyatt and the bikers talking. "Some things are better not knowing Sadie Lynn." "I hear you Boone." She really couldn't have cared less. With the dust settled Boone Tickle Bear continued his work. In five hours instead of six. He was proud of how it turned out. Her eagle looked majestic and savage at the same time. Coating her with antibacterial ointment and sealing it in under plastic wrap he sits back and has a cigarette with her. "Bike or Jeep? Either of those relics even run these days?" She sits up getting dressed. Forsaking her bra due to the tat she tosses on her black tank top. Tossing her thong in his garbage can with a frown she points at him. "Don't go digging those out and hanging them from your rearview mirror." Smirking she shrugs, "Aw hell! Live a little." "Jeep runs. Suzuki needs a fuel pump." "Let's go see Newton before I run out of time. My Mom's driving me over to El Paso to catch my train." "One can never run out of time unless the clock stops." "Always a shadow clock. I thought you Indians invented that." "Laying on the Earth Mother prematurely invites the vultures." Pulling her jeans up he gets his final view of two dueling Rattlers fighting over her burning bush. She knew Boone was staring. Hissing at him she winks, "One snake in, one snake out. Only skin needs shedding is lambskin." "Why do you taunt me so?" Patting his chest, she puts her socks and boots on. Lastly her women's black Silverado cowboy hat with shiny silver disks banding the brim. "Ready to ride?" "Right here." He unzips his own jeans. All he got from her was playful sneer. Out the door she went. Lights out Boone locks up his parlor and walks with her around to the back where his old 1973 Jeep Commando was hiding. "Some things never change. Hopefully the oil." She sighs. Crawling up into the Jeep she listens at a horrible turnover of the engine. Boone peaks a brow as it finally starts. "Still life in the old stallion." "Good. Maybe I'll fuck Newton when we get there." "You are indeed merciless Sadie Lynn." "You know it." She rubs his leg letting her fingertips slip over his obvious erection. "Oh, not the gear shift. My bad." "Clutch first." He pushes it down to the floor. Instead of rubbing his crotch she yanks the shifter into reverse. "Two hours. Ride like the wind Cochise." "Apache. Get your tribes right." "Whatever. DRIVE!" "I am so very offended." Regardless he smiled at the beauty. Reaching the edge of town Boone veered off the beaten path into a rather turbulent journey. Holding on for dear life Sadie had slipped up in judgment by not fastening her seatbelt. A seriously uneven piece of private real estate sent her toppling left into Boone. Her chest rubbing his arm gave him the idea to hit every pothole on the prairie. "I'm so gonna beat your ass once we stop." She growls holding the windshield frame and the dash. He wasn't giving her time to look for a seatbelt. Not that there was one. The Jeep being as old as it was had a few less accessories since inherited. "Relax. At least I have airbags if we flip over." He wags his eyebrows while checking out her tits. Nipple action noticed he chuckles, "So that's where I misplaced my arrowheads." "You're a riot Tickle Bear. Gramps still living up on that bluff?" "Ancestral land. What little we have left on the Rez. By the way, tell me about this new job. You apply for it?" "Nope! General Westmore actually approached me about it. Said he recommended me." "What did you call the place again?" "Wyndham Explorations." Another hard jostle nearly throws her out the side of the vehicle. No doors didn't help. "Exploring what?" "Top secret stuff. I'm just the new security chief. Everything moved so fast with my Gramps dying from Cancer six months ago then dad dying last month, I barely got the gist of the place. Big complex though. All I had time for was a brief introduction. Signed a few wavers threatening lawsuits if I talk about what I see there. Series of inoculations I had to endure which kind of made me stress over. What type of Explorations am I going to be doing in a building? Right? Unless there's biochemical shit going on that I'm not privy to." "Kansas you say? Maybe they plan on sending you to Oz." "Hope not. Singing munchkins and flying monkeys make me nervous. Of course, I might swipe a few gold bricks on my way back home." She laughs as the countryside levels a bit more. It didn't last long. This part of Texas was pretty rugged. Mountains in the distance although not the largest in West Texas still challenged the locals. As they continued onward Sadie found pleasant memories of the area. Her Uncle Brandon used to bring her there in her teens and teach her rock climbing. She grew up tough and thrived on it. She missed her Uncle Brandon who passed while on a tour during Desert Storm. It was her uncle that inspired her to beat the odds and become one of the very few women in the Army Special Forces. Without him to tutor her in pretty much everything he knew before his tour she might not be the invincible bitch she had matured into. "Getting close Sadie." Snapping out of the traffic of memory lane at Boone's revelation Sadie saw smoke rising from a short cliff side. With Boone's pointed finger she recognized the neighborhood. She often wondered just how an old geezer like Boone's Grandfather climbed up that high. He had to have been 80 by now. Comanche strong she smiled. At a post driven into the desert floor, marked with a band of eagle feathers, Boone came to a halt. His Jeep sputtered, sending tailpipes smoke signals up as a signature arrival. "If that buggy doesn't start back up and I miss my train you are buzzard bait." "It will start. Do not worry your pretty little head, Outlaw." "Still not bedding you down." "Someday my dream will come true." "My hormones have been riled up of late, which is weird, but I still don't swing toward fellas whom I call family." "Your hormones were always busy." He grins as they walk together toward a rope ladder heading up the small cliff side. "Yeah, I know. Kinship as a town moniker didn't help. I enjoy being friendly." She laughs as Boone becomes a gentleman offering her the lead on the ladder. Suspicious she shakes her head, "You just wanna watch my ass." "I see your ass every time you visit. Is today any different?" "You know I live to torture you Boone." "I manage afterwards." "I bet you do." She makes a hand motion as if he were jerking off. Smirking she accepts the rope after putting on her pair of rawhide gloves. A lesson well learned from many blisters. Although even they seemed to fade away as fast as they were unwelcomed. That was another thing about Sadie, in her entire life she had rarely even caught a cold. She just choked it up to the healing power of good alcohol. Of course, even then she was never drunk long. Zero hangovers no matter how much she imbibed. Her parents always told her that she took after the Outlaw gene more than her mother's side. Never much thought on it after that. "Still hanging on down there Boone? Didn't miss a step looking up at my camel toe, did you?" "As you say... wrong desert. No camels here." "That reminds me. I need cigarettes before you drop me off at my mom's." "How is it your lungs keep up Sadie Lynn?" "You've seen my tits. Best set of lungs in West Texas." "What lies beneath is where I worry." "Bet I could run 10 miles and barely wheeze." She reaches the top and crawls over the stone wall that prevents a restless sleepwalker from falling to his death. At least that was what the family laughed about many moons ago. Dusting herself off she peers down at Boone leaning over with her hands on her hips. "You coming or not?" "Is that a that's what she said joke?" "Well, I am a She." Another couple minutes he reaches the top and snatches up her hand to assist his final climb. Even though weighing more than Sadie, she yanked him skyward as if he were nothing. Astonished by her strength Boone winces. "Have you been working out?" "You just tattooed my body. Did it look like I had any fat anywhere?" She maintained her grip on his hand even as he lowers his gaze over her front from head to toe. "If you say fat pussy, I'm throwing you off of here." "It never crossed my mind." "Sure, it didn't." She chuckles and drags him in front of her, "Me neither. Lead the way Tinkle Bear." A manhandled twist places him in the lead, her palms slapping the back of his vest to make an entrance. Ahead of them was a rock hut if you could call it that. A simple dwelling with many padded blankets on the floor, animal hides texturing the walls, ceramic pots in the corners, traditional ceremonial items. It was an ancestral home for Medicine Men. On the innermost wall toward the floor was a secondary entrance appearing as if a tunnel. It required them to get on their hands and knees to crawl within. Again, Boone gallantly offers her the lead. She grimaces and drops down on all fours moving into the darkness. Boone directly behind her follows, barely able to see. After ten feet Boone collides face first into Sadie's ass, his nose buried where dreams come true. "Seriously?" "Sorry." His words muffled over her cLameltoe as she might claim as its pet name. "No, you're not." She wiggles her butt across his features before crawling forward toward a distant flicker of fire. They could hear low level chants and the shaking of ceremonial rattles until a visual of an elderly man sitting nude makes Sadie peak an eyebrow. Standing up inside the chamber she looks up into the sky through a hole in the ceiling casting sunlight upon the man. She squints noticing what looked like three birds circling the sky chasing one another. As Boone pulls himself up behind her, she points at the birds for him to acknowledge. "Eagles. "He whispers barely audible but to her ears perfectly versed. In that same instant the rattles cease and the chanting halts. "The three brothers come to greet you, Sadie Lynn." Impressed that he knew of their arrival she presumed her perfume gave off all the knowledge he needed. "Hey there Grampa Newton. Long time no... you might want to put some pants on." She hides her grin while Boone scurries around Sadie in an assist to cover his grandfather. He wouldn't have it. Newton Ruffled Feather pushed his jeans away. "Let an old man sew his oats." Newton waves Boone aside, "Come Sadie Lynn. Sit with me." "Alright. Not in your lap though." She was brave enough to move in front of the elder and cop a squat Indian style, Boone crouching to her left. "You have grown." "Ummm! So have you it looks like." She winces at the elder's erection. "Grampa please. Be respectful." "What are you babbling about?" He follows their point at his dick. Unashamed the elder frowns, "The Great Spirits have called out to me to join them as I was once born." A directional circle of his hands around him leads their eyes away from his nudity. Sadie looks around the cavern walls at cave art. Animals of every type etched into stone or painted in blue. She could almost sense eyes upon her. Looking at Boone, for once he was staring away. Newton had his own eyes closed. Shaking off her sensation of being watched she wonders if the incent urns were giving off some chemical hallucinogen like peyote. She would know for sure if her mind began playing tricks on her. All she could think of was missing her train. "I can live with the... forefathers." She clears her throat, "Boone says you wanted to say hi while I was in town." "The Great Spirits have chosen you Sadie Lynn Outlaw." "Chosen me?" "To embark on a great vision quest. Far away you will go." "It's just to Kansas Newton." She chuckles. "You have been prepared all of your life. Taught to survive at all costs. You are strong as the Bear. Fierce like the Puma. You see things as if the soaring Eagle." Newton points at the circling eagles above. Following his finger, she's reminded of them. "You got those eagles trained Newton?" "They are the Great Spirits here to see you off. The four brothers." "Four? I count three." Feeble yet exertive Newton Ruffled Feather stands tall nudging Boone away as he tries to assist him. Circling his fire Sadie observes him limp toward her. Her thoughts commenting on other things not so limp. Overlooking it the best she could another thing crossed her mind when the term wood entered her jest. How did Newton get wood for his fire way up here? With no time to ponder it she follows Newton as he stands over her. Not easy with a seven-inch cock four inches from her face. His hand touches her shoulder where she had recently had Boone tattoo... "The fourth brother." Newton acknowledges as a piercing call of bald eagles' force Sadie to look skyward once more. This time the three eagles had landed on the rim of the rock skylight, staring down at her. He removes her plastic wrapping over her fresh tattoo even as Boone asks him not to. "There are no scars. Have you never noticed?" "I-I guess I heal fast. Now that I think about it my other tats were the same way." Pinching the front of her cleavage to examine her TIToos she winces at Boone. They too had healed quickly. Boone could only shrug, having no answers. "Medicine courses through your veins?" Newton lifts her arm. "Yeah actually. I've had quite a few shots lately, before and after coming back to the states. Procedure to avoid being a carrier from one part of the world to the next. Why?" "Have you not noticed even the needle marks are gone?" "What are you getting at Newton?" He caresses her back over the tattoo. "You wear your family heirloom." "Yes. In case I ever actually lost it I had Boone ink it on to me." "Within the talons of the fourth brother. He will keep it safe." "Sure. Sounds like it's in good... talons." "You are not the same Sadie Lynn I knew as a child." "Hmm! I'm me Newton. Well except more in shape." She lowers her gaze and grabs her tits, "Oh, and I had these enlarged. Other than that? I paint my nails more often now. Trying to return to my feminine roots more. When you're a soldier that can be put aside some." "You were always a warrior." "Thanks Newt." "There is something different about you." He lifts her chin to look deep into her eyes. "Yes. You have indeed been defiled by the white man." "Say what?" "Your eyes relate what he has done. I see your vision quest before it has begun." "Ummm! Do you see me missing my train?" She resists his gaze and looks at her watch. "Times ticking Boone." "Kansas..." Newton shuffles away and returns to his seat. "Yes. My ranking General arranged a job in Kansas. Wyndham Explorations. Don't ask. Even I'm not 100% sure what they do." An eagle above lets her know they're still present. "As the wind explores the world, so shall you. The brothers will watch over your journey." "It's just Kansas. Sizeable place just South of Wichita." "The Wichita tribes name for themselves was "Kitikiti'sh" or "Kirikirish," meaning Paramount Men. Paramount Men means Men of Supreme power." Newton offers his wisdom. "Wow! You must read a lot. Where do you hide the encyclopedias?" She jests. "Behind the Mason jars. They were free." He shrugs not laughing at himself but smirking at least. "Nice to know Newton." Even as she slaps her upper legs to get up something about his joke made her uneasy. As Boone watches her circle the fire and bend over to kiss Newton on the forehead the eagles above screech and take flight. Three feathers filter down and land in the open fire, burning as the smoke leaves a pungent odor. A shrill cry makes her back tingle. Eyes flaring at the warm sensation she smiles. "That was certainly interesting. Take care of yourself Grampa Newton...that too." She points at his erection, "Don't let it get too close to the fire. You might just roast that wienie." Snatching up her hand he pats her palm. "All of the Great Spirits will be with you Sadie Lynn. Console them." A tingle in her hand this time makes her worry that she might be having a stroke. "Gotcha. I'll visit again soon. Love ya Grampa, like you're my own." "Go with wisdom and grace. I will think of you often." "Just not when you take care of that." She shies away on purpose pointing again at his erection. He finally had to laugh. "Do you think I am my grandson?" Boone winced dramatically, "Really? You're drawing me into this?" A pat on his grandfather's shoulder he too bids goodbye. Trailing Sadie toward the crawlspace Boone spots her looking at the cave paintings. "Where do you think I got the idea to be a tattoo artist?" Boone stood proud of his family. Ignoring him she reaches out and touches each of the animal drawings. With each one she hears in her minds-eye the sound each might make. After five touches she shakes off her imagination and chuckles. "Sorry! Just consoling." Strangely, Boone understood. This time Boone led the way out. Intentionally doing as she had earlier, halting halfway on his hands and knees until Sadie collided her face with his ass. He laughs thinking it only fair until he feels her hand squeeze his scrotum hard digging in nails. "Oh, look there's a rattler in here." She growls. "Poor baby. Don't even ask me to suck out the venom. Move before I miss my train." He moved. Slowly but he moved. After giving them enough time to reach the Jeep. Newton uncovers a hidden secret from below a blanket next to him. Producing a cellphone, he dials a number. A swift answer later Newton mutters the words... "Sadie is prepared." Just as quickly he hangs up. Amazing in itself considering cell towers were few and far between way out there. Even for 80, Newton Ruffled Feather was rather energetic with his free hand. The chanting from earlier resumed without the rattle. It wasn't the snarl of the Great Spirits this time. Totally Newt. ******** El Paso train station, a few hours later. "Time's up mom. They're boarding now. Thanks for putting the pedal to the metal." Sadie hauls her large shoulder bag of personal things. Barely making it back to her mother's ranch she had time for nothing more than a fast shower and to show off her new tattoos. Sadie's mother Mary gets emotional knowing her daughter was always gone for such long periods of time with every departure. Palming Sadie's right cheek lovingly she chokes on her words. "I wish you didn't have to leave so soon after the funeral." "I know. It seems like everyone in our family dies off when either I'm gone, or they're gone. You know I'm a phone call away. The new job set some ground rules for me is all. Timetable stuff the CEO's said. Not sure what that means but seeing as I'm Head of Security something must be pretty important that needs guarding." "Please be careful Sadie. All we have is each other these days." Mary notes the locket around Sadie's neck, the family heirloom passed down to her by her father over a year ago when she last took leave from the Army. Lifting the locketwatch locket she opens it to peer at the two photos within. One of her Great, Great, Great Grandfather Jessup Outlaw and that of his wife Bonita. "I'll miss these two as much as you. It was always such a comfort with them around. Even if it is only in photographs. Sometimes it felt as if their spirits were around to keep us company." "I know. When Dad finally showed the locketwatch to me, I felt as if a pair of hands gripped my shoulders. I wish he could have accompanied us here. Why do all the Outlaw men have to die on us gals?" "He... is taking things easier now in heaven with your grandfather. Please don't tell me that's why you had hands tattooed over your breasts." Mary scowls at her daughter's touched shoulder comment. "Not hardly." Sadie smirks with a queer look in her eye, "Long story. Your daughter has some secrets too. Someday I'll fill you in. At least find comfort in the fact they're a man's hands." "I never once thought you were into women." "Who says I'm not into both?" She laughs. "We both know I'm so far from being an angel that I borrowed a hacksaw to cut off my chastity belt when I was..." "I don't want to know how old you were." "Good because I'm not telling you." Sadie mimics her mom. "You know you're proud of me even though I'm a slut." Her remark makes Mary sidestep her depression in favor of an eye roll. "Of course, I'm proud of you even if you didn't take after me." Mary presses her palms together while looking toward Heaven. "Please forgive my daughter Oh, Lord." "Better be asking for more than my soul Momma. My sins go deep." A second departure warning forces Sadie to throw her arm around Mary and drag her into a tight hug. Kissing each other's cheeks Sadie picks her bag back up and turns toward the glass doors leading to her train. "There's the final boarding call. I love you Momma." Tears fall from Mary's eyes as she waves goodbye. Even as Sadie exits, the waves became never ending. Outside Sadie tilts her cowboy hat up to look at each of the cars diligently. Her ticket gave her a sleeper cabin for the long journey to Kansas. Locating the car, she passes a ticket taker who informs her to have a safe journey. Heading up into the car she finds herself alone. Not a soul besides herself were in sight. "Car to myself. What do you know?" She finds her sleeper, opening it up before getting comfortable. Taking a seat, she rests quietly until the train pulls out from the depot. Waving at Mary through the windows she settles into it for the first couple minutes before taking her cellphone out and oddly writes a text to her father, wherever he was. A simple "I love you Pop. Don't be a stranger. I'm here if you need to talk." It went unanswered. Heaven was like that. Her back itching, she found a comfort in her eagle's talons as a back scratcher. Four miles outside of El Paso in the desert, she yawns before pulling out the seats into a bed. Setting her alarm on her cell she prepares to take a nap. Ditching her boots and jeans she stretches out in her thong and tank top. Knowing she was the sole resident in the car she didn't even bother to pull the curtains. Besides that, she didn't care who saw her even if other passengers boarded later. Out like a light. Just how long Sadie Outlaw had slept she was unsure. Waking up she eyes her cellphone and realizes it was off. "How in the world? I know I set my alarm." Peering out her cabin window she realizes the train wasn't moving. Sitting there a few minutes she puts her jeans and boots back on to check out the dining car. She figured she would find out why they were stopped in the middle of the desert. Reaching the door between cars she bulges her eyes. "What the hell?" Peering out the front she learns there was no forward car to pull hers. A quick glance backwards down the aisle she finds daylight through the back door as well. Swallowing dryly, she attempts to open the front door. It was locked. Eyes narrowing, she makes the stroll to the back door. "This can't be good. Why would the train cars to both sides just disengage and leave me stranded? Forward I can understand, but where did the back four cars go?" Locating an intercom, she pushes the button as if there were someone around to answer. Maybe there was. "About time you woke up Master Sergeant Outlaw." "General Westmore?" Voice recognized; her eyes grew thin hearing her former commanding officer. "How are you speaking to me from a com with no connection?" "Get a good look at the landscape Outlaw. Notice anything?" Sadie looks out the side windows. "Looks like I'm on high ground. Did the train engineer go and leave me stranded in the mountains?" "Look further." She heads back to the door and realizes something she had missed. "Where are the rails?" Seeing this she bolts to the back to find no tracks on either side. "WHAT THE FUCK! What's going on here General? I thought I was headed to Kansas. Did I get airlifted somewhere?" "Not exactly. I'll let Professor Carlsbad explain things. Before I go... I salute you Master Sergeant. You were the best of the best. I'm counting on you. Survive this tour of duty and come home safely." "Wait a minute. I'm not in the Army anymore. This still looks like Texas so fess up General. Did I get sent on some mission I never signed up for?" "You did. The mission of a lifetime. Here's the Professor. God be with you Sadie." "GENERAL? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" "Hello Sadie. My name is Anson Carlsbad, chief science officer at Wyndham Explorations. Apologies due for not meeting you when you visited our facility a while back. Things were quite top secret. You were recommended for a very special mission. I will ask you to please remain in this car until the doors unlock. The energies surrounding you are harmful until they dissipate." "Energies? Am I radioactive?" "Not quite. Temporal energies. Your car is a specially designed time capsule disguised as a railcar. This will be your home base for the next year. Once you leave it will go into stealth mode. Only you can see it or enter its interior. If you were to step out before it is safe you might be drawn further back than necessary. Without the capsule." "Further back?" Sadie was a fearless warrior but today she questioned the need to express fear. "Where am I?" "You are still in West Texas. Only not the Texas that you grew up in. Sadie Outlaw? Welcome to the year 1876. The Centennial draws near." "1876? Whatever!" "I do not lie Miss Outlaw. Everything you should need to accomplish your mission is within this car. Maps. Food for two weeks. Water. Even arms. My time speaking with you draws close to an end. Once the outside temporal energies fade, so will my transmission. You will find books under protected panels in the floor. Read them, memorize them. Your mission will become clear. You will leave time capsule messages for we in the future to locate at preordained locations. A generator toward the back will give you enough power to listen as they explain things further. Be well Sadie Outlaw. Congratulations on being a successful time traveler." "Don't you bastards ever ask permission?" "You were chosen for your unique talents. We have prepared you for a good long while now. Faith in you is strong. I envy you..." Dead silence. The ending transmission leaves Sadie Lynn Outlaw speechless. Almost. ******** June 8th, 1876. She should have never taken the job. No benefits. No pay. Just plenty of vacation time on the good folks at Wyndham Explorations. "FUCK YOU GUYS." ******** Back in the year 2022... Boone Tickle Bear had returned to his parlor to make sure the Copperheads hadn't trashed it once the Sheriff had left. Everything looked fine. Settling back to clean up his needles he looks at his tray of paints which he had left out in their hurry to beat her train. Glancing at his paint bottles, Boone Tickle Bear squints at something that catches his attention. Lifting up a bottle of paint to look at the label more closely he discovers something interesting. "Huh! Made in Wichita, Kansas. What are the odds of that?"

Sabrina was as excited about this vacation as I was. We had not had a vacation by our selves in fifteen years and this year it was going to be just the two of us. Boat camping at Lake Mead and just the two of us! It was early fall so it was not to hot in the desert, but the water was still worm enough to be comfortable to swim in. How could it get any better! I awoke Sabrina up about 4:30 am. I wanted to get an early start trying to beat the desert heat and the morning traffic. I looked down on her necked body as she moved and stretched, marveling at how good she looked two kids and fifteen years later. My wife was not old at thirty-five and she still looked like the kid I had married. Her 36c’s still stood proud and she has the best ass I have ever seen, her legs are not to long at 5’ 3” but they are perfect. Standing there looking at her I told myself, Sam your one lucky man. I was putting the last of the gear in the truck when she came into the garage. She looked like she was still asleep standing there with a small travel bag. She had on an old T-shirt she had cut off so it hung to just below her boobs, and a pair of white t-back panties. I watched as she moved to put her bag in the truck. Her top lifted up to show me most of one tit as she stretched to do so. Is it ok if I just sleep for a while? I just can’t get it going I’m sorry. Sure its ok with me. Is that what your wearing? I watched with a strong throbbing in my shorts as her panty’s stretched tight into the crack of her ass. She slid in closing the door looking at me smiling. Are you telling me to put more cloths on? Mister we don’t have to wear any thing all weekend. Still smiling at me she said, I just thought it would be more comfortable sleeping like this while we drive up there. It’s going to be dark for a while and I can slip on a cover up if we stop. No Hun you look fine and your right it will be dark for a while. She was still smiling as she watched me adjust myself a little better. Sabrina fell back to sleep almost as soon as the motor started. She had adjusted the seat back down about half way so she wasn’t lying down but not setting up either. I watched my beautiful wife setting there, half necked and sleeping as we drove on. Still thinking how lucky I was and trying to figure out how to set comfortable with a ragging hard dick. We had driven about two hours and sun was just coming up. It was shining in Sabrina’s face and she turned to the side window to get it out of her eyes. As she turned her top pulled up exposing most of her breasts. I looked at her thinking how hot she looked lying there like that. I can’t remember when I had been so excited just looking at my lovely lady. I can’t sleep with that dam, oh fuck Sam! Speed up, slow down, do something. What the hell is wrong with you! I yelled at her. I jammed on the brakes pulling behind a truck I was trying to pass. I pulled over to the side of the road and pulled her to me. What’s wrong are you hurt what is it? That guy in that truck just saw my tits and I don’t know what else! What the hell were you doing? Driving right there by him so he could see me? No I didn’t even think about it! I just couldn’t pass any faster with the boat back there. Dam are you sure he was looking at you? Yes I’m sure, I looked at him and he smiled and waved at me. Oh God Sam I’m so embarrassed. How many others do you think have seen me? Oh maybe one, I said, thinking ya one dozen. I really had not thought about them being able to see her but now I was intrigued by the idea of showing her off. I had been half-hard all morning from looking at her as I drove and I felt that thing in my pants start to grow again. Sabrina turned in her seat and got up on her knees to reach the small bag in the back seat of the truck. I watched her ass as she leaned over, looking at the soft shape. Seeing how her t-back split her cheeks. I moved my mirror so I could look right at that sweet ass. Her cheeks opened just enough to see that the thong part of the panty had slipped into her pussy leaving her shaved lips bare and exposed. What are you going to do? I’m getting my shirt so I can cover up. Oh don’t do that. You look so good to me and now that your awake and setting up no one else will see you, please. I had turned in my seat and was looking at her fully exposed tits as she leaned over her seat. Her nipples were hard and sticking out like little erasers. She pulled back across the seat and had her T-shirt but she made no move to put it on. She set there for a minute looking at me then smiled at me. What the hell, you said you wanted us to be as close to necked as we could all week so ok ill leave it off for now. Look at you, you’re hard as a rock. Sabrina then pulled her top up and shook her tits at me laughing. You like these things being out in the fresh air, don’t you? She shook them at me again. Ok, I’ll keep my top off if you don’t want me to put it on. Just be careful when you pass some one, OK? You have got a deal! God I love to look at you lady. She was laughing again as I pulled back onto the road. She had leaned into the corner, back just enough for her top to pull up and expose the bottom half of her nipples. Sabrina smiled at me and pulled one leg up in the seat folding it to set on. As she moved her leg her panty’s slipped tighter into her pussy exposing her full lips for me to see. She watched me look at her, she was looking at the bulge in my pants. Yes I think this will be a very good vacation my dear, she said and laughed as she saw I was catching that same truck….

David Shield was a genius when it came to his own inventions, but with even his vast knowledge of I-island it would take time for him to crack through the large number of hidden treasures locked away in the vault. The entire room was over fifty feet tall and was covered in wall to wall lock boxes. All of them were electronically controlled by the main database now at his fingertips. Almost there… he thought as his fingers clicked along the keyboard… It's almost within my grasp again. "Are we having fun in here?" Phoenix strolled in casually and eyed the room with a low whistle. "Look at all the fancy gadgets. No wonder you guys call this place the vault." "How's the situation outside?" Sam asked wiping sweat from his brow. "We heard a scream." "Oh nothing to worry about…" She waved it off with a sweet smile. "That was just Sworkill being dramatic. Some kids got lost in the building and were poking around the 80th floor. Made them all jumpy. The boss took care of it though, sent some guys to redirect them." "Oh thank goodness." Sam let out a shaky breath. "I thought perhaps some heroes had managed to escape." Yeah that thought would make you nervous, wouldn't it old man? Karma thought with an inner sneer. Her eyes must have narrowed because she saw his tension go back up and he averted her eyes by busying himself on the data panel. She didn't care for the fact that David was being lured into villainy due to this man's treachery. Just like she'd been lured in by love, and a ticket into UA High school, David Shield was now being lead by the nose at the promising thought that his invention would save his friend. David was a well known and respected scientists who helped create so many incredible items and costumes that he was referred to as a hero himself. Yet even he had stepped onto the dark path known as villainy with the proper motivation to fuel him. "Mr. Shield…" She spoke low watching this man work with an anxious smile on his face. "I know it's a bit late to be saying this but do you really think this is a good idea?" She saw Sam tense up first and give her fidgeting looks. David didn't look up from his work, but instead kept typing even as he answered her. "I had reservations at first. I know what I'm doing it morally wrong, but I'm confident the ends will justify the means." He paused, turning his eyes to another screen to check its lists before typing again. "No, I really don't think it will." She clenched her fist at her side. "I know you think it's going to help, and maybe it will for a time… but all you're doing is delaying the inevitable. You can't give All Might immortality." Now David stopped, his face going pale and his eyes whipping over to her. "How did you-" "I'm not an idiot Professor Shield." She clenched her hands at her sides. "All Might is the friend you want to help, and there's been rumors that he's losing his strength and power. Look at how easily he backed down during the hostage situation. In his prime we would have never been able to get away with this, and you're taking advantage of his weakened state in hopes that it would pay off in the end… but really you're just making it more clear to him that as time goes by he becomes less useful and less of a symbol than before." "How can you say that?!" Sam pushed David out of the way shaking and glaring at her. His fear turning to rage now. "It's not just All Might that will benefit from this! Every hero in the world could benefit from this! It will…" "Is that what you told yourself when you brought us all here?" She grit her teeth. "Is that what you told the little voice in your head called a conscience? You're even worse than he is for talking him into this so shut your trap you bald geezer!" Sam gulped loudly but continued to shake and stand in front. "We had a deal, young lady. If you want to get paid then I suggest you-" "Oh I have every intention of getting paid… but what makes you think I'm letting you be the one to write my check?" She pulled out her gun that she'd retrieved from the hall. She took it off safety and cocked it before pointing it directly at Sam. It wasn't loaded, but he didn't know that. "Now then… if I did my research properly then there's a series of switches that allows for every box to be open in case of an evacuation. Both of you are going to put in that code for me." "The hell is this? What are you trying to do, Phoenix?" "I'm getting paid… didn't your assistant tell you?" Her lips turned sinister. "I'm not an actress, Professor Shield… I'm a real villain." "What?" David choked and looked down at Sam who clenched his teeth. "Sam you didn't-" "I'm sorry professor… but I didn't have a choice. How else was I supposed to get back all those years of work and effort that were taken from us? I need compensation for my work!" "Sam…" David's voice held such betrayal and sadness that it tugged on Izumi's heartstrings. "Pitiful isn't it?" She said with a small laugh and stepped closer. "It's pitiful how easy it is for someone's character to change so drastically. You trust them, put your faith in them…" her eyes took on a look of sorrow for a moment before she hid it with a smile. "...and all they do is disappoint you." "Is that what happened to you, Phoenix?" David looked at her with a bit of pity. "Did someone betray you?" "No…" a single tear slipped down her cheek and she lowered the gun just a fraction so that their eyes could meet. "I did the betraying." "Hey boss!" Twice skidded into the door, and Karma's gun lifted back up in a threatening motion. "We got a problem. Those kids split up and the bulk of the group is moving up the tower." "Boss?" David whispered even as he held up his hands in defense against Karma. "Tch... figures that Wolfram's goons are a bunch of weaklings." She glanced back over her shoulder. "Oi, tell Compress to get his ass in here and have Dabi to keep Wolfram occupied. The clones should almost be done gathering up the goods in point A so we need to snag what we can from here and get gone." "Righto!" Dabi saluted but then slumped. "What about the kids? They're a real nuisance… eh it's no big deal." He quickly waved it off as if the problem didn't exist. "The security doors are sealed tight after they pass the 150th floor. There's only one way to get up to the tower from there and that's where we'll stop them." She looked at him over her shoulder. The look in her eyes had Twice bouncing with excitement. "Ooh! Ooh! You got a plan don't yah? Tell me! Tell me!" He crosses his arms up in an X over his chest. "Not interested!" "You've my measurements don't you?" She smirked and lifted her mask into place. "Make a copy of me… and I'll handle those nuisances personally." ~Meanwhile~ "It's pretty quiet, don't you think?" Ochaco huffed a little as they took a small breather. "Yeah, we haven't had any disruptions or disturbances since the 80th floor." Kaminari agreed cheerfully. "Maybe they've finally lost track of us." "Or it could be they're just lulling us into a false sense of security." Melissa argued and held her chest. A fresh bead of sweat dripped down her temple. "Could be they've got men waiting for us, or are setting a trap." "Either way we don't have much choice but to press on." Iida took a deep breath to calm himself. "We've gotten this far, it'd be shameful if we backed down now." He rounded the corner but then stopped and cursed under his breath. "Damn, it looks as though the path is blocked from here as well. We'll need to find another way." "There's a way in from outside, through the wind tunnel platform. We can use Ochaco's weightless quirk to float and it's a straight shot from there to the control tower." Melissa provided and had all of them smiling. "That's perfect, lead the way Melissa." Iida nodded his head and the group followed Melissa down a set of paths and out to the platform. "Here it is, we… uh oh." Melissa stopped when she spotted the single figure standing in the center of the platform. With her back to them, she created quite a picture; the wind from the high altitude blew her long duster jacket and red curly locks giving her a very ominous look despite her small size. "What is it?" Yaoyorozu peeked around and her eyes narrowed. "A single fighter?" "I recognize her…" Uraraka whispered. "She was the one standing over All Might when we went to check out the party. What's she doing all the way up here?" "I recognize her too…" Mineta whispered. "She's the hottie Kaminari and I served drinks to at the expo earlier." "Hey you're right." Kaminari thumped a fist in his palm. "Damn she was villain all this time? What a gyp." "Now is not the time for banter you two." Iida stepped forward onto the platform first, his team behind him and forming a strong line of defense if needed. Karma tapped her ear, signaling her crew that the gang of students had arrived before slowly turning to face them. With her mask on and the dark helping conceal her face she let out a little laugh. "I've been waiting for you, young heroes." She applauded. "Congratulations on getting this far… but your tour of the tower ends here. If you would be so kind as to return to the lobby, you'll soon be released with the rest of the hostages. Providing that is you don't give us any further trouble." "You're one to talk." Jirou countered with a sneer. "It's you villains that started the trouble. We're just here to finish it!" "You tell 'em Jirou!" Uraraka thrust her fist. "Surrender or prepare to lose!" "Pfft," Karma had to laugh. Izumi always did like Uraraka's spunk. "Whatever for? I'm in the clear advantage here." "How do you figure that?" Jirou scoffed. "It's seven on one." "For starters your math doesn't quite add up." She cocked her head to the side. "Only two of you have strong combative quirks, and out of those two only one of them knows how to handle it well." "Eh?" Uraraka blinked in confusion. "Say what?" "For second you're all held under society's thumb. The lot of you are students and there are rules in which you're forced to abide by if you want to become Heroes." She shrugged. "I'm a villain so those rules don't apply to me in the slightest. I could kill each and every one of you and no one would look at me any different. A villain is a villain after all." "Oi is she for real?" Kaminari whispered to the rest of them. "How the hell does she know all this about us? Is she a mind reader?" "Thirdly…the fact I'm alone doesn't hinder me at all. You're traveling in a large group of people you consider friends and have a strong sentimental attachment to them. If I endanger one of you, then another will gladly sacrifice themselves to protect them. Whereas I only have myself to worry about, no one to hinder me, and no one to distract me from the task at hand." Karma held out her hand and gave a come hither motion. Her eyes pierced through the dark, a glowing green against the black. "Still if you all believe that you've the advantage then come at me. Let's find out who's right." A cold bead of sweat dripped down the side of Melissa's face. She swallowed hard and clutched her hands together trying to steady them. Something about this girl just sent shivers down her spine. "Fine…" Kaminari stepped forward. "I don't like fighting girls, but since you're giving us no choice I'm going to prove you're wrong!" He tossed off his apron and tie and rushed forward. "Wait Kaminari!" Jirou shouted and gasped as Yaoyorozu pulled her down and the insulated blanket appeared and covered the group. "Take this you bitch! 1.3 million voltz!" "Hmmph, so predictable…" She lifted her head, her face flashing in the light and Kaminari got a perfect view of her face as his lightning struck across the sky. "Kaminari-kun." "Weh!?" Stunned himself, his electricity discharged against a fiery barrier that thrust out at him, knocking him on his ass and sent him rolling across the ground. His sparks sputtered and he sat looking stupefied. "What in the hell was what?" Jirou pulled up the sheet staring awestruck. "Did she just block his lightning with a wall of fire?" "That doesn't make any sense…" Melissa agreed narrowing her eyes on the situation. "Even when used as quirks, fire doesn't have the right properties to discharge lightning like that. It was almost as if it was reinforced by something." Her prediction had been right, Karma thought, inwardly pleased with herself. The bluff had shaken them up, and she was able to put her power on display in the best possible way against that idiot Kaminari who jumped straight into it. "Is it starting to sink in yet? You're all out of your league." She faced the group fully again, she let the flames dance up in her hands in a spiral motion. Be intimidating, be assertive… force them to back down! "This is your last warning… go back downstairs and surrender to the boss, or face me and die." "Oooh, nice touch there Phoenix." Wolfram spoke over the comlink and she had to smirk. It seemed as though Dabi had patched her taunt through to Wolfram to appease his interest in the battle. Keeping him focused on the intruders rather than what was happening upstairs. "If you think that's something then you should see her fight. She's got a mean right hook." Dabi added over the speaker. "You're sure you can handle that group of kids by yourself, Phoenix? Need me to send you some back up?" Wolfram suggested. "Have some faith in the kid." Dabi interjected before she could way a word. "Trust me, she'll have these kids practically running off the side of the building within ten minutes." Karma strained her ears so she could read the code in his words. Right hook…Faith…Side of the building… ten minutes. She had to stall these guys for ten minutes, then be prepared to take a leap of faith off the building. "So what's the verdict, heroes?" She taunted and flexed her hands out forming flames in the palms. "Are you all gonna attack me? Or are you gonna heed my advice?" "What should we do Iida-san? She seems way more powerful than the other villains." Yaoyorozu swallowed hard. "I agree… She's so confident even though there's so many of us." Iida agreed and grit his teeth. He rubbed the scar on his arm and looked at Kaminari who hadn't moved from his spot on the ground. "We're in over our heads." "Well what are you waiting for?" Getting heated and enjoying the moment of superiority Karma let her villainous nature take over. Her grin spread wide behind the mask causing those green eyes to go wide and the pupils to shrink. "ATTACK ME!" "GLADLY!" Bakugo's voice suddenly called out and Karma whipped her head around only to get knocked on her ass by a massive explosion. Where the fuck did he come from? "You guys alright?" Kirishima asked as he and Todoroki raced up from behind. "Kirishima, Todoroki!" Iida turned and then glanced back at Bakugo who stood by the villain, hands braced for attack. "When did he-" "You know Bakugo, we got a look at the situation from the doorway and he wanted to make a flashy entrance." Kirishima laughed jerking a thumb in his best friend's direction. "Question is did he get her?" Todoroki ripped off what was left of his tie and let it fall to the ground. "Sure looks like it to me." Kirishima laughed and then saw Kaminari on the ground. "Whoa hey Kaminari you alright man?" He raced over to his friend and knelt down to help him up. "Mnng Kirishima…" Kaminari stirred awake and looked up at him fearfully. "It's not… she's… it's her." "Huh? What are you saying?" Confused by the spaced out sentence he looked back over at Bakugo and the villain who was stirring and collecting herself from the sneak attack. "Ready for more you bitch?" Bakugo flexed his hands laughing. "I'll take you on all by myself if these cowards don't want to." "Nice to see you haven't changed…" Karma laughed and stood up, her wig falling off and face turning to her opponent. It brought on a sense of delight to see the stunned expression on his face. "Hello, Kacchan." "Usagi?" For the first time in his life Bakugo took several steps back from an opponent. Todoroki who had been walking towards them stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her pale faced. "Izumi…" "Guys what's the matter? Why did you-" Uraraka paused her sentence when she too got a look at the villain without her guise. "No… Midori-chan?" "You guys look so surprised to see me." She pulled off her mask and tossed it aside, then ran fingers through her messy black hair grinning at them. "Truth be told I'd hoped to postpone our reunion for a later date… but it would seem fate loves twisting knives in my back." "Why Midori-chan?" Uraraka whimpered as she fought off the tears. "Why are you here? Why are you doing this?" "Do I really need a reason?" She faced the tears with a look of pity. She felt the tugs on her own heart, the ache and hole each of these familiar faces put in her… but she wouldn't falter She wasn't the young hero they'd befriended. "Don't give me that wounded look. I'm a villain, remember Ura-chan?" "You were our friend first." Todoroki corrected her and stepped closer. This time it was Karma who took a step back. "We trusted you, believed in you…" "...and loved me." She smirked at him turning the look of pity in his direction. "Or so you told me every chance you got. I told you from the start I had priorities, people who matter to me more. Unfortunately society and hero school frown upon fraternizing with villains so I decided to join up rather than cut them off like the rest of this heartless society." "That's the biggest bull shit lie I've ever heard." Bakugo snapped. "They warped you, Usagi. They're trying to turn you into something you're not and you're playing right into their hands." "Hahahaha!" She had to laugh at that. "You're a fool if you think I'm a victim in all this." She pointed at herself still laughing. "Do you honestly think I didn't understand what was happening to me during that whole process? I knew the outcome, I knew what would happen the moment I found out Sensei was a villain I knew I'd dug myself in too deep. I didn't run away from it, I embraced it. I ate all that negativity up like candy and now look at me!" She stood up straight and let her quirk dance around her. The kids of class 1A could only stare in horrorified awe at what had become of their friend and classmate. "I was a quirkless nobody, but now all of Japan knows my name! Soon the entire world will know it too thanks to this infiltration. I'm the Queen of Villains! I am all powerful! I'm going to pull the strings of society and turn it into my puppet!" "Like hell!" Bakugo screamed. "We won't let you do that, Izumi!" Todoroki let the ice form around his hand. "We're going to stop you!" "You can try, Shoto… but get that sick puppy love look off your face first. I'm a villain, so you'd better treat me like one." She crouched and let the flames twist up in her palms. "Because I won't pull my punches!" "Fair enough, Usagi!" Bakugo launched at her again and she dodged quickly whipping the flaming energy out. He dodged as well, using a small explosion to jettison to the left and avoiding having his hand snapped right off his wrist. Todoroki moved next, unleashing a massive barrage of ice in her direction which her flame whips cut down to size. "Kirishima!" Bakugo whirled back. "Icy Hot and I will handle Usagi. You and motor calves use your quirks to bust through those security doors and get to the control booth!" "Got it!" "Round face!" He turned around to look at Uraraka. "You, grape face, and Ponytail get Kaminari out of here and treat his wounds. Do what you can to find a way outside and alert the other heroes about what's going on." "Okay!" She obeyed. Using her quirk on Kaminari to lift him she and the others in her group hurried back inside. Karma skidded off to the side to avoid the oncoming attack for Todoroki and she put a finger to her comlink. "Dabi, they're splitting up again, what's our situation upstairs." "Never mind us here, do you need some backup? I can be down there in two minutes." Dabi said in cryptic speech. Translation being was that her double had finished with the Professor and Sam, and they were just waiting on transportation. ETA was two minutes. "Not necessary, I can handle these punks. Just worry about your own task and be careful not to damage anything!" "What the hell is going on?" Wolfram announced through the comlink. "Give me a status update." "A little busy at the moment, Wolfram, let Dabi give you the details!" She shouted and sprung up to avoid Bakugo's blow and snagged him by the hair. She yanked him down slamming his skull against the brick. Bakugo heard tweeting birds for a minute as the pain of the impact rattled his brain. He was lucky she hadn't cracked his skull open. In a move that was more instinctive then planned he brought up both hands and unleashed a furious blast against her belly. Karma barely had enough time to bring up a barrier before she was sent skidding back by the blast. Todoroki caught her with his ice, her feet now frozen solid and trapped. Well Shit. "Nice timing…" Bakugo grunted and held his head as he got up. "Thanks." "Tch, since when do you two get along so well?" Karma taunted and briefly checked the levels on her flame thrower. She didn't have much fuel left, which meant she'd be relying on more of her own energy after this. "Shit happens when you're faced against odds." Bakugo explained. "We didn't want to do this to you, Usagi, but you left us with no choice." "Well I'm happy to contribute to your brohood bond." She crouched down and used the last of her flame thrower to burn away the ice and release herself. The two boys stepped back into fighting stance looking ready for more. "You guys took on two villain flunkies all by yourselves, and still had more than enough energy to deal with me." She laughed, her bright smile sending shockwaves of nostalgia to both of their hearts. "Honestly your stamina amazes me… guess I've got more training to do myself." "You're not gonna have any training time in prison, Izumi." Todoroki narrowed his eyes fighting back his emotions and focusing on the task at hand. "We're not letting you escape." "Words are cheap… I'll believe it when one of you actually manages to take me down." She flicked hair from her face. "I kicked both your butts at the Sports Festival, and I've gotten way stronger since then." "I'm not losing to you again, Usagi." Bakugo raced forward. "NEVER AGAIN!" "Like I said…" Izumi heard the signal in her comlink and she leapt backwards and off the building. "TALK IS CHEAP!" "What the!?" Bakugo stumbled to the edge screaming out as he watched Izumi plummet downwards. "USAGI!" "IZUMI!" Todoroki joined him and braced a hand over his face as a gust of wind rushed up past them. The multipurpose transporter caught the falling villainess and she latched onto the top creating claws on her hands with her quirk and holding on for dear life. The rush of adrenaline from the death-defying leap had made her face go pale and sweaty… but she laughed. She peered down through the window and saw her team manning the controls and waving to her. "Nice timing, boys." "USAGI!" Bakugo went to blast his way up to the jet but Todoroki held him back. "It's no use, it's too big a risk." "Get the hell off me! They're getting away damn it! Heroes aren't supposed to lose! I AM NOT GOING TO LOSE TO THAT DAMN RABBIT!" Bakugo blasted his way up, using the racks of fans to help his ascension to the rooftop. He focused his quirk on the craft, his teeth gritting. "I WON'T LET YOU WIN!" He let loose a massive explosion that erupted over his head and in the direction of the plane. The smoke and fire covered plane and Bakugo unleashed the fury over and over and screaming in pure frustration because he knew that it wasn't going to work. He fell to his knees holding his arms that now ached from overuse and his teary eyes stare up at the pristine plane, protected by Izumi's quirk. "Damn you… Usagi…" He punched the ground and hung his head in defeat as the plane disappeared into the night. "Villains aren't supposed to win."

Hyunjin wakes up with a lapful of maknae and a groan, as Jeongin had successfully winded him. He opens his eyes blearily and flashes the youngest a halfhearted glare, but when he’s met with a bright grin, his irritation doesn’t last for long because really, as much as Jeongin was a wolf in lamb’s skin, Hyunjin still had a terribly soft spot for him and would probably sell and arm and a leg and maybe his soul too for the younger. Well...maybe not his soul, but still. “Morning, hyung, you look like death and a half,” Jeongin chirps cheerily from where he is quite literally seated on top of Hyunjin while the older of the pair struggles to breathe. If this doesn’t look like an assassination attempt, then Hyunjin doesn’t know what does. “And whose fault is that?” Hyunjin groans as Jeongin’s thighs squeeze his ribcage a little too hard and the maknae’s sweet smile becomes the epitome of all things evil. “Chan hyung made breakfast, we’re going shopping today,” Jeongin announces cheerily. Hyunjin slowly sits up, blinking tiredly and running his fingers through his hair, trying to shake the sleep from his mind. “Okay, okay, I’m up, now get off me,” he mumbles, and thankfully, Jeongin finds it somewhere in his (cold) heart to clamber off of Hyunjin so that he can go and wash up. He feels like seawater and sand, but as his mind drifts back to what had happened the night before, he can’t help but smile as he drags his feet on his way to the bathroom. He emerges a changed man, towel wrapped loosely about his hips and vitality returning to his body. He quickly throws on a loose, graphic tee and a pair of ripped sinner jeans (they really weren’t that tight, and Hyunjin really doesn’t think Felix has any right to be judging his jeans). Throwing on a few accessories, he makes his way out to the table where everyone was present except for Changbin, heaven knows if the man was still sleeping. “Morning, hyung, you don’t look like death anymore,” Jeongin greets him again, cheerily. He reaches over to pinch the youngest’s cheek, causing him to yelp and bounce (how on earth he managed to do that without breaking his tailbone is beyond Hyunjin) away from him into the next chair. Hyunjin pouts. “Innie, give me hugs,” he demands, stealing the empty chair between them and wrapping his arms around Jeongin. Jeongin dolphin-screams bloody murder, but Hyunjin just remains stuck to him insistently until Chan emerges from the kitchen with pancakes and sets the plate down on the table with one hand while prying Hyunjin off of the fox-eyed boy with the other. “While I appreciate the fact that there’s no one sane enough here to call the police when they hear that kind of screaming, I kind of like my ears and I don’t want to lose them just yet,” he remarks. “You guys start, I’ll go get Changbin.” “Yes, mum,” Felix quips with a mock-sigh. “Don’t use that tone with me, Felicia,” Chan jabs right back and heads down the corridor. Felix laughs and stabs a few pancakes, tossing them onto his plate. “Ooh, these look good,” he exclaims with a glint in his eyes as he takes the syrup and veritably drowns the poor pancakes in the sweet stuff. Hyunjin stares at the obscenity of it in thinly-veiled disgust. “I don’t understand how you haven’t yet gotten diabetes, Lix,” he remarks. Jeongin steals a few of the pancakes for himself and does the same and Hyunjin lowers his head into his hands. “I’m living with heathens,” he wails. “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Felix huffs, forking a few pancakes onto Hyunjin’s plate. “Hurry up and eat or we’ll bless your pancakes with the correct amount of syrup.” That’s all it takes for Hyunjin to practically shove half a pancake into his mouth and chew with renewed vigour, his eyes narrowing distrustfully at Jeongin, who brandished the bottle of syrup like it was some kind of firearm. “Stay away from my breakfast. Fifty-fifty is not the correct syrup to pancake ratio, thank you.” “And you call us the heathens,” Felix sighs, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Felicia.” Hyunjin does end up drizzling some syrup over his pancakes, although not the ungodly amount that both Felix and Jeongin seem to favour. He secretly thinks that this confirms his suspicions of how the two were definitely spending too much time together. He watches as Chan somehow manages to drag Changbin out of the bedroom and he throws his arm across the  shoulders of the shorter male. “Finally, someone sane,” he sighs. “Why did I agree to come with all of you?” Changbin asks, his voice deep and gritty, giving away the fact that he had just woke up. “Because you love us, hyung, now have some pancakes,” Jeongin deadpans, throwing a few onto his plate before looking up at Chan with a grin. “You too, hyung. You’ve been running around all morning.” Hyunjin chuckles at how Chan doesn’t hesitate to sit down and stuff his face after that. Not that he wouldn’t anyway, but a little encouragement every now and then never hurt. “You look really tired, Chris,” Felix suddenly brings up, “Did you not sleep again?” When Hyunjin glances back at the dark-haired man, he sees the dark bags under Chan’s eyes and he frowns. He knows that the man had been awake in the forsaken hours of the morning just like him, but he also knows that Chan was probably awake, up and running earlier than him and probably earlier than everyone else. Sure, Chan’s insomnia was nothing new, but Hyunjin would’ve thought that it would at least slacken during their vacation. “You can always stay back and rest, hyung,” Hyunjin offers. “How come I don’t get that option?” Changbin complains through a mouthful of pancake. “Ew, hyung, say it, don’t spray it,” Jeongin yelps. “And you don’t get that option because if you’re not there then Hyunjin hyung will stick to me, and I really don’t want to die of heatstroke in Australia, so instead you can be my virgin sacrifice.” Felix snorts mid-bite of his pancake and bursts into teary-eyed laughter, half-laughing, half hacking his guts out as he chokes. Hyunjin can swear he hears Jeongin whispering a “that’s right, choke,” but he deliberately chooses to ignore it. Chan breathes out a long suffering sigh and goes to pat Felix on the back. “I’m coming with,” he decides. “Otherwise someone is going to die, and I don’t want to have to go through all the trouble of hiding a body. So everyone please control your murderous tendencies” “I always knew that brat was part of a cult,” Changbin mutters under his breath and Hyunjin ruffles his hair, finding his grumpiness amusing. He would think that no one should expect a normal breakfast with decent people while they were all shoved in a building by themselves, which, in retrospect, should have already been a terrifying prospect. With a little more struggle, an argument on who should do the dishes and a strong disagreement when Chan offered to do it, Hyunjin finds himself setting the last dried plate on a rack and then drying his hands with the towel before tossing it aside. He makes his way to the door with a grin, throwing it open and letting the sun bathe him. He’d probably complain about it being too hot later, but for now he’d enjoy it. The cove looked breathtaking and he’s sure  that he could wake up to that sight every day without ever growing tired of it, but it brings thoughts of Seungmin to his mind again, and the sudden urge to see the boy again washes over him. It probably wasn’t a good time though, considering his friends were right there, and really, after all their banter about it yesterday, Hyunjin didn’t know if it was a good idea to overwhelm Seungmin with the presence of all of his rowdy friends. Besides, the boy did seem to be a more solitary type. There was probably a reason why he kept to himself, and Hyunjin knew enough about courtesy to know that he should put the boy in a position where he would be uncomfortable. Especially not when Seungmin trusted him enough to meet him again. His gaze grows distant as his mind wanders. Perhaps he could meet him again during the night. Hopefully this time Chan would be sufficiently tired and wouldn’t be out walking. He yelps and stumbles as he feels someone cannon into his back, and his arms automatically rise to support Felix’s lanky legs as one of the blonde’s arms wraps around his shoulders and the other points to the car that Felix had rented for their vacation (seriously, the boy had too many notes to spare). “If I break my back, you can’t get piggyback rides anymore, Lix!” he hollers. “Onward!” Felix declares shamelessly, and Hyunjin huffs, carrying him to the car and opening the door before throwing him into the backseat. “Dibs on shotgun!” Jeongin screeches as he dashes past them only to careen into the driver’s seat. Hyunjin pulls him out of the seat and huffs. “Other side,” he tells him, poking his dimple. Jeongin pouts. “I knew that.” Hyunjin, being the good hyung he is, lets Jeongin take the front passenger’s seat anyway and settles with being squished in the back with Changbin and Felix. Not that he minded, since Changbin made a good pillow and Felix had the window rolled down and was currently yelling whatever song was playing on the radio in a disturbingly deep voice. Chan had landed himself with the misfortune of driving all of them, and Hyunjin would’ve felt bad if he knew how to drive, but he didn’t so he saves himself the guilt. At the shopping centre, he just finds himself dragged around by an eager Felix who has to be constantly reminded by Chan that he wouldn’t be able to fit all the things he wanted to buy into his suitcase, to which he retorts that he’ll just buy another one. Somewhere between Versace and Balenciaga, Hyunjin recalls that he hasn’t seen Seungmin wearing a single article of clothing excluding the body jewellery, and he wonders if he should get something for the boy. Even if Seungmin didn’t feel self-conscious being naked, Hyunjin definitely did, and he wanted to spend time with Seungmin while they were both fully clothed...or at least sufficiently clothed. His eyes narrow slightly in thought as he tries to estimate the boy’s sizes. Seungmin was skinny and fairly tall, falling just a little short of his own height. Hyunjin figures that he could chop a centimetre off of his own sizes, and so he starts to pull some clothes from the racks, nothing too tight, since he was sure that would make the boy feel uncomfortable, especially if he was used to not wearing clothes. He frowns slightly in thought as he wonders what the boy would like. Would he even like it? “Oi, Hyunjin, don’t tell me you’re going on a spree too, you only have one carrier!” He can hear Chan calling to him, and he grins back at the dark-haired man. “Don’t worry about it, hyung,” he calls back as he selects a loose striped shirt with long sleeves from the pile that he had beside him. It was fairly chilly during the night, and the shirt was soft too, so he figures it would be appropriate enough. He throws in a hoodie because everyone needed a hoodie and then a pair of cargo pants. Before he knows it, he has almost his entire pile of clothes that he’s decided to buy. And definitely not enough money to buy it all. So he does the next best thing. He stands and drapes himself over Felix. “Lixieee, we’re besties, right?” “I’m not buying all of that for you, Hyunjin.” Hyunjin pouts. “But Lixie, it’s important to me. Pleeeease?” Felix glances back at him, looking unamused. “No. Do I look like your sugar daddy?” “Well—” “Hwang Hyunjin, one, ew, and two, I am younger than you.” Hyunjin huffs and pouts, going back to his clothes and selecting a few random items before padding over to the cashier. “Consider our beautiful relationship cancelled, Lix,” he calls loudly, attracting the curious attention of a few other customers and a groan from Chan, who was hiding himself amongst a curtain of black shirts. Hyunjin really needed to convince him to wear some other colour. “Consider yourself cancelled, you big baby,” Felix retorts, tugging Changbin close to him and then pushing an oversized, pale pink hoodie into his arms. “Binnie hyung, get this.” “But—” “Okay, I’ll get it for you.” Hyunjin openly gapes at Felix while Changbin seems at a loss for words as the boy heads over to the cashier with the hoodie as well as the armfuls of clothes he had decided to purchase. “Traitor!” he gasps. “I see how it is, doing things for your boyfriend, but not for me.”  To his surprise, both Felix and Changbin stop short at that and stare at him in disbelief, their ears matching shades of red. Hyunjin feels someone pat him on the back and he turns to see Jeongin’s too-sweet-to-not-be-evil grin on his face, like Christmas had just come early. “Nice one, hyung,” the youngest chirps, looking all too pleased at the scene. Hyunjin feels a smirk of his own creep over his lips. “Right, go buy your things and let’s go before they kick us out of the store,” Chan calls, already lugging Jeongin and Hyunjin out of the store with ease. Sometimes Hyunjin really needs to give the man some credit; if Jeongin had mentioned him looking like death and a half that morning, Chan definitely took the cake and Hyunjin felt a little bad for it. “Hyung, are you sure you don’t want to go back and rest?” Hyunjin asks worriedly. “You look like you studied for finals, finished five projects and threw in a thesis paper for good measure in one night.” Chan offers him a dry smile. “Does it really look that bad?” “Worse,” Jeongin pipes up unhelpfully as they sit down on one of the benches just outside of the store. Chan laughs wryly. “Gee, thanks, Innie.” Hyunjin rests his chin on Chan’s shoulder and leans against him. “No, but hyung, you really look awful. It doesn’t look like vacation at all for you.” “Maybe because I have to stop all of you from almost getting yourselves killed 24/7,” Chan drawls before sighing. “I’ve been inspired lately, but I can’t...get it right,” he mutters. “I’ve got so many unfinished songs in my laptop and I’ve been hearing things since we arrived here. I can’t sleep until I get it perfect.” “Hyung—” Hyunjin knows that reasoning with Chan when he’s in one of those moods is really just plain impossible, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t stubborn enough to try. “No, you don’t understand,” Chan interjects before he has the chance to say anything more. “I can’t sleep. I’m exhausted, but it’s like something is keeping me awake.” He sounds almost distressed to the point where it worries Hyunjin. “Something?” Jeongin echoes, and Hyunjin can see that he too is awfully concerned as well, enough for the seemingly ever-present smile on his face to have disappeared. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy,” Chan dismisses and Hyunjin pokes his dimples insistently. “Hyung, we’re all a little crazy, you’re probably the sanest one out of all of us, and that’s saying something.” He ignores the offended yelp that elicits from the elder’s lips. Hyunjin pokes him yet again. “So tell us.” “Tell us what?” Felix asks, loaded with bags as he and Changbin leave the store and leave the staff looking rather relieved although Hyunjin doesn’t miss the few that pull out their phones to snap a few pictures of them. He chooses to ignore it although he wishes they wouldn’t because while he knows that he has a very handsome group of friends and while he and his very handsome group of friends also happen to be terribly shameless, privacy was always something that they could appreciate. “Why Chan hyung isn’t sleeping. Like, at all.” “Chris I keep telling you to take sleep meds,” Felix sighs, sitting down with them. “We're heading back and you're going to rest. We can go play around on the beach or something.” Chan turns to stare at him and frowns. “Believe me, I would, but I swear that I keep hearing voices and they sing...I'm trying to get that song, but I can't and I can't fall asleep either.” At Chan's words, Hyunjin feels himself tense slightly which earns him a curious glance from their fox-eyed youngest, but he just shrugs it off as though it had never happened. He clears his throat and stands up. “We're getting you back, hyung, you really need some rest. We've been here for a few days and if you haven't gotten any sleep...well, you're getting some sleep now,” he decides, and they collectively nod in agreement. Chan seems about to argue, but eventually nods in resigned assent. “Yeah, maybe I am just tired…” “Maybe,” Hyunjin echoes, although he knows that that's not the real or only reason for it. For all it was worth, he wanted to change the course of their conversation before it pressed too far into foreign territory. He helps Felix carry his bags to the car and somehow manages to shove it all into the trunk. Piling into the back seats with Felix and Changbin, he settles himself comfortably and rolls down the window as they begin to drive. “Let's order takeout today,” he suggests over Felix's merciless caterwauling, and it's met with a resounding agreement and what looked to be like complete and utter relief on Chan's part. As they roll back to the bungalow, Hyunjin's eyes trail over the cerulean waves that roll against the sand and he feels the sudden urge to go to the shoreline and just stare out at the broad line where the blue sky met the bluer sea. “I'm heading out,” he tells the others on a whim, and to his surprise, Jeongin falls into step with him. “I'll come with,” the youngest announces, and Hyunjin flashes him a grin and throws an arm over his shoulders. “I knew you'd come around and accept my undying affection,” Hyunjin exclaims dramatically, only to have the younger propel him aside with a powerful shove, causing him to stumble. He huffs and makes a dramatic show of rolling onto the warm sand. “You're so mean to me,” he whines, bouncing on the sand and beating his clenched fists against it, his face twisted into a comical, petulant expression. “...you big baby,” Jeongin scoffs, and Hyunjin gapes at him. This was the second time today he's been called a big baby, and it was certainly unfair because anyone with a pair of eyes could see that it wasn't his fault his friends were all colossal jackasses. Jeongin grins sweetly at him and runs off across the sand, laughing happily, and suddenly Hyunjin's indignation at all the injustice that had been done to him that day dissipates because Jeongin just has that much power in his sparkling narrow eyes and dimpled cheeks. He hops to his feet and runs after Jeongin with a grin on his own face, jumping onto the youngest's back and clinging to him. “Yah, you have too much leg, hyung!” Jeongin complains, toppling over and sending him careening onto the sand with a yelp. He just lies there, motionless for a bit until he feels Jeongin's finger prodding at his cheek. “Did you die? Are you dead?” He rolls over onto his back and laughs, causing Jeongin to pout. “Darn, I thought I got rid of you,” the maknae huffs. Shifting, he clings to Jeongin with a wide smile. “Takes more than that to get rid of me,” he singsongs. “Duly noted.” Hyunjin whines when his forehead is flicked, but he doesn't move away from Jeongin until the youngest eventually gives up and just lets him practically lie down on him. For a few moments, silence is sustained between them, but then it's broken by the sound of footsteps pounding on the sand, causing Hyunjin to crane his neck just in time to see Felix scramble over an outcrop and launch himself off of it with a vaguely distant “yeet!” before hitting the surface of the water with a splash. “Isn't he an adult?” Hyunjin wonders aloud. “Aren't you an adult?” Jeongin queries, cocking an eyebrow at him. Hyunjin gasps and huffs. “What is that supposed to mean?” “Whatever you want it to,” Jeongin chirps cheerily just as Changbin moves to sit beside them, dressed in more beach-appropriate clothing, namely a pair of swim trunks, a plain t-shirt thrown over his frame and a bucket hat. Hyunjin glances over at him and sits up, hugging him. “Innie is being mean to me,” he tells Changbin. “Why, did you tell him about your naked boy problems?” Changbin asks, causing Hyunjin to flush down to his collarbones and Jeongin to raise an eyebrow, a devious glint in his eyes as he leans closer to the pair. “Naked boy problems?” He echoes and Hyunjin pushes Changbin pettily, but unfortunately the man works out and he doesn't budge that easily, which made for a very unsatisfactory revenge. Changbin side-glances at Jeongin and leans closer to him as though about to divulge something top-secret. “He claims that he rescued a hot naked boy from drowning yesterday,” Changbin stage-whispers conspiratorially. Hyunjin halfheartedly slaps the man's bicep. “And he said he's in love with him,” he adds as an afterthought, and Jeongin's smile turns absolutely wicked . Hyunjin yelps and rolls away from both of them. “Nope, nope, I came here to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now,” he babbles, his ears crimson. “I'm being bullied so I'll go back to Chan hyung because at least he doesn't bully me, goodbye, oh, and Binnie hyung, your boyfriend is calling.” Hyunjin turns and darts back to the bungalow, his face sufficiently flushed. He still didn't know what had compelled him to say something like he was in love when really, he had only seen Seungmin twice. So maybe he was a romantic, but it didn't mean that he believed in love at first sight (or second sight) for himself! He glances back just in time to see Felix bound out of the water and latch onto Changbin, who was a bright shade of red, while Jeongin cackled like a witch at all the newfound, juicy information he has. Hyunjin smiles slightly before running into the bungalow and hiding behind the nearest potted plant as though it would protect him from feelings. “Uh— Hyunjin…? Do I want to know?” Hyunjin peeks out from between the leaves of the plant to see Chan staring at him, bemused. He sheepishly moves away from it to flop gracelessly down on the couch. “I was being bullied so I ran away,” he shamelessly confesses, sitting up a few seconds later and hugging one of the throw pillows. He tilts his head and squints at the older boy. “How are you feeling, hyung?” “Honestly? Like fifty shades of death,” comes the response, and Hyunjin grimaces. “Serious enough for you to pull a necrophilia joke, huh.” He laughs at the look of disgust that he receives for his troubles, but he's quick to lose the mirth, his features growing serious. “Hyung, you said you heard voices, what did it sound like?” He asks. For a few moments, the dark-haired man stares at him, dumbfounded before sighing. “Really beautiful. I've never heard anything like it. I don't know how to describe it. It was beautiful in a...almost disturbing kind of way? Does that even make sense?” Chan looks frustrated at the fact that he couldn't adequately describe it, but Hyunjin still understands perfectly, and he has a good idea of who was behind it too. “When did you start hearing it?” Hyunjin asks slowly. Chan laughs dryly. “Since when did you become my therapist, Jinnie?” He jokes, but goes on to answer anyway. “Since we got here. The first night I thought I'd go and tweak one of the songs I was almost finished with, but then I heard the voice and since then it's been bugging me.” That did make sense, considering that Hyunjin and co. had all fallen asleep from their trip, so only Chan would've heard the song. And now Hyunjin just happened to hear it too. The blood drains from his face as he wonders if he'll have to suffer sleepless nights too, but at the recollection that he had fallen asleep soon after he had returned from the beach with Chan is brought to his mind and he relaxes. Still, that didn’t mean that Chan was out of the danger zone just yet. Hyunjin knows for a fact that it’s been five days since they’ve arrived, and if Chan hasn’t slept for a single night, well...Hyunjin really doesn’t know how he managed to drive them to the shopping centre without killing all of them. For a few moments, he’s silent, wrapped up in his thoughts, but he’s pulled out by the sound of Chan’s voice. “I sound crazy.” “Yeah, you kinda do, hyung.” “Thank you for your undying honesty, Jinnie.” “No problem, hyung.” Hyunjin stands up and pulls Chan to his feet by the arm, nearly causing the man’s notebook to topple off of the couch, but Hyunjin catches it before Chan can declare dishonour on him and his whole family and maybe his cow too (although he didn’t have a cow, but that was irrelevant). He sets the notebook safely on the coffee table and tugs Chan with him to the bedroom. “No working,” he declares. “We’re having some hardcore rest-time now.” The older boy looks about to complain, but Hyunjin turns to face him with a deathly-serious light in his eyes. “I want cuddles, hyung.” And he knows that Chan will probably argue that he could work and give him cuddles at the same time, so he pulls the next card. “And I want attention too.” The shorter male sighs resignedly and lets himself be dragged into the bedroom and plopped down on the mattress by Hyunjin, who promptly throws himself on top of him and cuddles him, silently thanking whatever deity had invented air conditioning. For now he’d cuddle, then he’d go find Seungmin, and hopefully get to the bottom of this.

Baoshan Sanren went down the mountain the moment one of her disciples went back up.   “Shizun, I know that it is not allowed to go back to the mountain, but please. Allow me!”   Baoshan Sanren knows, she's not a cold-hearted woman. So, she just sighed and demanded an explanation.   As much as she wants to take them back again after they went down, she cannot. Those Humans. Those Mortals, who went down the Celestial Mountain, will have a fate worse than death. The Celestial Mountain is blessed. Once they went out of the Mountain's reach, they would lose its protection. The mountain would not be kind to those who’ve already been tainted.   Baoshan Sanren huffed.  Cruel. Why made me an Immortal, if I will just have to see my disciples, my descendants, die? Immortality has a price, it seems.   She had to erase every memory, from the mind, heart, and soul, of every child, every disciple she took. That way, the mountain will be on a good term with them.   “Shizun, it’s Cangse-Shijie! Your daughter!”   Cangse… Cangse Sanren had been the product of one of her inventions. She had been Baoshan Sanren’s everything. Her blood and flesh. Even some of her powers transferred to her. Still, only through skills, talent, will, and motives will she ascend to immortality. No matter how much of her powers are flowing through her meridians, no matter how her blood is running through her veins, the only way and the hardest part to achieve and ascend to immortality is having the purity of the heart. That is also the only way that her disciples need to achieve for them to be able to go back to the Celestial Mountain once they’ve decided to go down.   Cangse Sanren, having left the mountain without achieving immortality, can never avoid her fate. The fate of Baoshan Sanren’s disciple. Celestial Mountain’s disciple…   Thus, when her disciple came back up, bringing news about Cangse Sanren, she had to brace herself. “What happened to Cangse?”   Her disciple kneeled and proceeded to kowtow. “Shizun, Cangse-shijie is dead.”   Baoshan Sanren needed a moment to breathe. She closed her eyes and began to inhale deeply.  I am expecting it. Still, it hurts.  One sole tear escapes her silver eye.   “But, Shizun…”   Baoshan Sanren’s eye snapped open. “But?”   “She had a son, Shizun! And they are condemning him! Just now, I heard that they are planning to raid his den!”   Baoshan Sanren felt as if an arrow struck her heart.  Cangse…Cangse had a child? I have a grandson? My…My blood…Oh- Oh God- His fate…I have to find him.  She thought determinedly.   Baoshan Sanren straightened up. “Where is he residing? Take me to him.”   Her disciple stands up and meets her eyes. “He is currently at the Burial Mounds, Shizun.”   She is slightly taken aback. Burial Mounds, huh? How did he survive such a place? There is so much resentful energy- Right! Resentful energy… Baoshan Sanren drew a teleportation array, that way they will arrive faster.   ---   Explosion.   Gasps.   Shouts.   Screams.   Pain.   Everyone kneeled as they could not manage the pain coming from their middle dantian. Even Baoshan Sanren herself is not exempted.    They realized powers from their core are being  sucked .    Wei Wuxian just finished destroying the seal the moment Baoshan Sanren landed in the Burial Mounds. He is exhausted, then suddenly there is power.   Oh.   Power… Spiritual Energy… A core   Suddenly, Wei Wuxian is receiving spiritual energy that is slowly forming a core inside the hollow space with only the dark as its company.   The cultivators had long forgotten about Wei Wuxian and his seal. All they could think is the mind-numbing pain they cannot suppress.    And then, everything…   …stopped.   Caws of crows are heard, the winds sang, humans are silent.    Silence.   Silence.   Silence.   Then, there are thunders. Wei Wuxian was being struck by thunders in front of their very eyes. Bright light blinding the cultivators, pure spiritual energies drowning them.    He is ascending.  They’re minds unhelpfully supplied.   Then, Wei Wuxian is gone.   The cultivators are in disarray.   “Wei Wuxian… Wei Wuxian ascended!”   “How can this be?! A monster ascended?!”   “No! My core! My powers had diminished!”    Hearing that, the cultivators checked their cores. Gasps rang out the mountains. Enraged cries are heard, cursing Wei Wuxian. There are also those who kowtowed, praying for forgiveness. There are others who praised him.   All of them didn’t notice a certain Sect Leader looking so pale and angry. Disbelief and rage are noticeable from this Sect Leader.   The said Sect Leader cupped his middle dantian, wherein his core,  his core , had almost diminished. While checking the core, all he received was a weak pulse. As weak as when he was a teenager. He cannot even unleash Zidian without overexerting himself.   Sect Leader Jiang, Jiang Wanyin roared as he looked at where the sky is located. “Wei WUXIAN!!! Did you think that it is over?! Come back here!  I WILL STILL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!!!  Do you think this is enough to atone for your sins?! WEI WUXIAN!!!”   Baoshan Sanren glanced at the cultivators.  Pathetic,  she thought. She chuckled, she suddenly caught sight of a group of people.  Non-cultivators…Why are there non-cultivators here?   She told her disciple to discreetly escort the non-cultivators outside the Burial Mounds, tell them Baoshan Sanren will see them later. Her disciple bowed and subtly went to where the non-cultivators are located.   She glanced at the cultivators leaving.   She glanced at the cultivators in gold, who are red-faced, be it from anger, embarrassment or shame.   She glanced at the cultivators in dark green, who seemed to be contemplating when they are near the resentful energy.   She glanced at the cultivators in white, whose faces also seemed to be as white as their robes.   She glanced at the cultivators in purple, especially the one with purple lightning whenever his face sneered, and narrowed her eyes at his core.   She glanced at the Burial Mounds, where her grandson was last standing.   She chuckled darkly.  Well, well… Looks like you have gotten what you deserved.   She cast one lingering stare, and then she descended the Burial Mounds, willing to find the non-cultivators and ask them what they were doing at the place, such as the Burial Mounds.    ---   “Popo, I am not here to harm you. My master, Baoshan Sanren, will just talk to all of you.” Baoshan Sanren heard her disciple talking to the oldest of the non-cultivators.   “Baoshan Sanren? The immortal?” She heard the elder respond.   “Yes. Yes, Popo.” Her disciple said.   “I’m here. I’m Baoshan Sanren.” She finally responded.   The non-cultivators gasped, their eyes full of hope and wariness. Baoshan Sanren immediately softened her eyes. “Tell me, what are you doing in the Burial Mounds? And a non-cultivator at that, how did you survive?”   One of the non-cultivators responded he told her that they are the Wen remnants. They were protected by a person they called A-Ying.   “Wen remnants? Why were you called Wen remnants?” Baoshan Sanren asked, she did not know why they were the only remaining of the Wens. She knew of the Wen Sect, located in Qishan. And, there are a lot of people, Wens, living in Qishan.   The same person told her of the war. Saying that their sect had gone too far, resulting in retaliation and war.   “And they are capturing you? Non-cultivators who are supposed to be out of the war between cultivators?”   “What will even change, Immortal Baoshan? We are Wens. As long as there are Wens living, they won’t stop hunting us.”   Baoshan Sanren huffed a bitter laugh.  They never change, huh?   She sighed, “Well, this A-Ying of yours, where is he?”   There is some pride in their faces, some who even smiled softly. “He ascended. Our A-Ying, our Young Master Wei. Our Laozu…”   She heard her disciple gasp. Her disciple looked at her and said, “That’s it, Shizun. Wei. Cangse-shijie’s husband is surnamed, Wei.”   Wide eye, she asked her disciple of the name of her grandson.    “Wei Ying, courtesy name Wuxian.”   She looked tearfully at the non-cultivators, “Is-Is your A-Ying named Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian?”   Some of them looked wary, but they answered. “Yes, Immortal Baoshan.”   She let out a wet laugh. “My grandson…”  I’ll go to heaven later, for now, I will save the people my grandson saved.   Once she calmed down, she offered them a settlement. Two options, actually. One: They will go with her to the Celestial Mountain without having any memories and will be secluded for life. Two: She will give them a place far from the cultivation world, and live in peace.    They looked thoughtful. The second option seemed tempting as they wanted to live freely in peace. However, their past will always be their nightmare.    So, they chose the first option.   Remove all their memories, and live in a secluded mountain until they die.   Baoshan Sanren smiled at them. “Is there anything you wish to bring?”   The eldest meekly spoke, “My-My great-grandson, Immortal Baoshan. He is still at the Burial Mounds.”   Baoshan Sanren gasped, she sent her disciple to get the child. She turned to the group, “My disciple will get you your great-grandson, Madam. For now, let us depart.”   And then, Baoshan Sanren drew a transportation array to the nearest door and went to the foot of the mountain. Before they went up the celestial mountain, she asked the group to close their eyes as she casts a memory removing spell to the group, so as to cleanse the lingering pain, regret, sorrow, sadness, happiness, joy, and many other emotions they had experienced to be reborn as a new person.   The moment the Wen remnants opened their eyes, their life had now begun changing for the better.   Unknown to them, a certain white robe disciple had already claimed the youngest Wen as his child. Baoshan Sanren’s disciple will not get to reach the child she had been tasked to get.   ---   Wei Wuxian opened his eyes. He did not know what he is currently doing. Is he lying down? Is he standing up? Sitting down? One thing crossed his mind,  I’m dead? Yeah, I’m dead. I didn’t know I would end up in heaven though.   “Your Highness.” He heard a voice.   “Your Highness.” A little louder.   “Your Highness!”  Who the hell is shouting? And who is this “Your Highness”? Can’t they answer who is calling them? I want to be at peace.   “Your Highness, Wei Wuxian!”  Oh.  The voice called his name.  I am the “Your Highness”?   “Uh- I am no royalty, but I am Wei Wuxian. What can I do for you?”     “Your Highness, I am Ren Jiayi, in charge of your palace. If you do not remember, you ascended into Godhood. You are supposed to ascend only to immortality the moment you destroyed the Stygian Tiger Seal, but with another immortal in the vicinity, their spiritual power pushed you to ascend into being a God. Congratulations, Your Highness. You are now the God under resentful beings. Most especially, God of Demonic Cultivation. While you have both energies, spiritual and resentful alike, the resentful energy inside your body dominated and becomes your main power. Your main domain is the South, particularly the Yiling area.”    Okay, what?  “I’m a God?”  How could I be a God?  He is currently in a place -  a palace?  - full of black and red decorations. The outlines of the pillars are in silver. The walls are painted in black. There are paintings on the wall with silver and red colors. The furniture, such as the couch and bed are in black and red colors. Oh, and he is currently lying on the said bed. All in all, the palace is a beauty. Truly of Wei Wuxian’s style.   “Yes, Your Highness.”   Wei Wuxian was left dumbfounded. He intended to die, thank you very much, and not to ascend into some kind of Godhood. He was about to facepalm when he realized something. “Wait, wait. Who are you? I’ve never met any Ren Jiayi before.”    Ren Jiayi smirked. “I am the Burial Mounds, of course, Your Highness. I manifested into a real body after you destroyed the seal and ascended.”   Wei Wuxian blinked, “Burial Mounds? Wow, then your name means “auspicious one”, quite the opposite of you, no?” He taunted Ren Jiayi, not because he wanted to create a fight with them. He is just bored.   Ren Jiayi smiled dangerously, “I do not know what Your Highness is talking about.”   Clearly, Wei Wuxian should watch his mouth. The temperature seemed to lower as Wei Wuxian shivered. When he shivered, he felt something.   Warmth.   “How could I have a golden core?!” As far as Wei Wuxian knows, he has none and will never feel the warmth of a core again. But as he examined the core further, it felt akin to a golden core,  but no golden core should feel warm and cold at the same time.   Ren Jiayi straightened, “It is true that Your Highness has a core again, but it is not golden.”   “It is a silver core.” A voice called out.   A very familiar voice.   Wen Qing.   He gasped, “Wen Qing!”  

“Come with me.” Ava does not wait for Sara’s reply, she just simply turns around and starts walking. If Sara wants to be one of her soldiers, she will follow the command instead of waiting for her general to explain herself. “Where are we going?” Ava shakes her head mentally — at least Sara is following her while questioning her orders. “If you’re going to be one of my soldiers, I need to assess your fighting skills.” Ava glances over her shoulder, watching as realization dawns on Sara’s face. “Okay,” she nods, walking easily next to Ava, “but we need to make a quick stop by my tent first.” “What do we need from your tent?” Ava asks, stopping and turning around to face her. Sara continues walking but turns around so she is looking at Ava as she does so, making Ava have to follow her. “You’ll see,” she says, arching an eyebrow. Ava sighs but follows her the whole way to her tent. “Alright, what is it that is so important that you had to go get it?” Ava asks once they’re there. “This,” Sara says, picking up the walking stick she had not used since she went with Charlie. “What are you going to do with that? I thought your leg was healed.” If there is worry in Ava’s voice, it is only because Sara is her responsibility now. “It is. I need it to fight.” Sara shrugs, twirling the staff around in her hands. Ava is certain she is going to hit something in the small space, but somehow she manages to avoid it. “Now, are we going or what?” Sara asks, backing out of the tent’s opening. Ava sighs, once more starting on a path to the training grounds.   Once they make it to the training grounds, Ava gestures for Sara to walk up to a dummy. Sara frowns, following the order but looking at Ava curiously. “Show me what you can do,” Ava says, nodding at the training dummy. Sara narrows her eyes, burying the end of her staff in the dirt. “Nuh-uh,” she says, crossing her arms around the staff. Ava definitely does not think she looks cute like that. “Excuse me?” she says, taking a step towards Sara, hands fisted behind her back. Sara meets her gaze, an innocent expression in her eyes. “You promised that once my leg was good, you’d spar with me.” She raises an eyebrow, looking expectantly at Ava. Ava takes a deep breath, the fondness that has grown for Sara over the last couple of weeks warring with the fact that she is now under Ava’s command. “And I will, once you show me that you’re well enough for it.” “You’re just scared I’ll beat you, General .” As she speaks, Sara uncrosses her arms, once more grabbing her staff as she determinedly walks towards Ava, stopping just a step away from her. Ava feels her nails dig into her palm as she stares into Sara’s defiant gaze. She should order Sara to do as told or even take a break, telling Sara that she has no time for this and will come back later. Instead, her gaze drifts to the weapons rack, her fingers itching to hold one of the weapons on display. “Fine, but don’t blame me if you find yourself on the ground.” “We’ll see who ends up where.” Ava can hear the smirk in Sara’s voice as she walks over to fetch a training sword.   Ava tightens her hold on her sword, watching Sara with inquisitive eyes. She wants to make sure she does not go too hard, especially when all Sara has to defend herself with is a wooden stick, so she waits for Sara to make the first move. Sara tilts her head, watching Ava as she twirls her staff in one hand.  Sara’s tongue pokes out as she continues to observe her, and the moment Ava’s attention is drawn to it, Sara advances, moving to strike Ava with her staff. Ava barely registers it in time to raise her sword to deflect it, her body moving on instinct. Sara pulls back, raising her staff in the air to block Ava’s responding blow. Despite the blade’s bluntness, it makes a chip in the wooden staff. Sara turns the staff around in her hands, trying to use it to her advantage, but Ava just manages to pull the blade back to herself before she can do it. Both of them return to their starting positions then, watching for the other to make a move. Ava has to admit, Sara seems to know what she is doing with that staff, despite Ava’s low expectations of the makeshift weapon. Still, Ava decides to take it slow, not wanting to overwhelm her. Ava waits for Sara to attack again but it appears Sara has no intention of initiating this time. She just simply watches Ava with a patience Ava did not know she had. Gripping her sword tightly, Ava advances, letting her sword arm move out of instinct. Sara dodges the blow quite skillfully, then tries to strike Ava’s legs with her staff. Ava just barely twirls out of its reach, stretching her sword out towards Sara only to keep some distance between them. Despite how little they have sparred, Ava can already say with certainty that Sara is superior to the average recruit. “I thought your father was a guard,” she says, curious as to how Sara gained her skill. Last she checked, most guards were not better than her soldiers. “I didn’t say he was the only one who trained me,” Sara smirks, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Before Ava has a chance to respond to Sara’s vague answer, Sara charges her again with her staff raised, ready to strike. Ava blocks the blow, then advances, delivering a flurry of blows to Sara’s defenses, wanting to see how much she can take. Sara stumbles back, blocking the attacks but letting herself be pushed back to the edge of the training grounds.  With one final swing of Ava’s sword, Sara’s foot catches on something, making her lose her balance. Ava instinctively reaches for her, worry taking over. Sara’s staff drops to the ground as she grabs onto Ava’s hand, but instead of letting Ava steady her, she pulls on it, bringing Ava down with her.  Ava drops the sword to the side so she can brace herself with her hand, burying it in the dirt before she can crush Sara with her body. She sighs out of momentary relief.  The relief does not last long. Sara’s face is almost innocent as she looks up at her with a grin - a stark contrast to the sharp blade Ava feels pressing against her side, just underneath her chainmail. Ava freezes, wondering where Sara even got a dagger considering her weapon of choice.  “Well played,” she sighs, shaking her head at letting herself be played.  “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be so easy to beat,” Sara says, arching a brow as she pulls the dagger away.  “You’ll have to excuse me for not wanting my soldiers to get hurt if I can help it.” Ava feels Sara’s chest vibrate underneath her hand as Sara lets out a chuckle in response. The action makes Ava aware of where she had grabbed Sara — her hand gone for the closest thing at the moment, which happened to be Sara’s tunic — and that her hand is still on her, with one of Sara’s hands locked around her wrist.  Sara’s hand releases its hold, moving instead to push some stray hair that has escaped Ava’s bun out of her face. Ava cannot decide if her heart is beating impossibly fast or not at all as she catches her breath, eyes trained on Sara’s face. Sara lets her fingers linger on her cheek as she catches Ava’s gaze, eyes glistening with something Ava cannot place.  Her eyes move lower on Ava’s face and her palm cups Ava’s cheek. Before Ava knows it, Sara lifts her head from the ground, hand holding Ava’s head in place.  Ava feels completely frozen, like she has forgotten how to move even the smallest muscle. Sara’s breath hits her lips and a voice in the back of her head is screaming for Ava to let go.  Sara’s lips are almost so close that Ava can feel them. Right before they can get close enough, Ava pulls her head away, rolling off of her.  “I can’t,” she breathes, feeling like her entire body is on fire.  “I’m sorry,” Sara says quickly, pushing herself up to her feet.  “Sara, wait!” Ava calls, struggling to get herself up from the ground, but Sara is already running away, not even sparing Ava a glance. Ava lets herself fall back onto the ground, cursing everything that just happened.    The rest of the day, Sara avoids her. Ava sees her once, when the camp is called for supper, but the moment Sara lays eyes on her, she turns in another direction as if food is not on her agenda. And that is all she sees of her. Part of her swears Sara is better at being stealthy than Charlie, either that or she has simply found a spot Ava does not visit during her day to day. In any case, Ava has not spoken to her since their sparring and… whatever it was that happened at the end of it. Which should be fine. Ava has gone days without speaking to people in her camp and sometimes weeks without speaking to those she is closest to when either she or they are out on patrol. Not speaking to Sara is fine. Except it isn’t. Except there is something in Ava that needs to know that they are okay. That what passed between them, what Ava stopped from happening, did not ruin the friendship they built over the past few weeks. Which is absurd. Ava is the general of the Rebellion forces, she does not have time to care about making friends with her soldiers. She certainly should not need anyone.  Ava sighs, letting tired legs carry her into the war tent to read over the last few reports for the night. She only finds a single sealed letter lying on the table. She quickly breaks the seal, weary eyes taking in the words. Her heart cries over what she reads. The entire squadron she sent out just a few days ago, save a couple, died during an Empire siege. Ava crumples the paper in her hand, wanting nothing more than to bury her blade in Damien Darhk’s chest. Her mind immediately wanders to all the families she will have to write, all the families who will never see the member they sent off to war. She puts the letter back down on the table, smoothing it out so she can see the names of the two still alive. All she can hope for now is their safe return. A yawn escapes her lips when she makes to stand up properly. The letters will have to wait until morning, she thinks, her body yearning for the comfort of her own tent.    Ava sheds her armor as soon as she reaches her tent, out of the view of her soldiers. She feels the strong pull of sleep and yet, there is something in her mind that will not allow it. Bringing a hand up to rub the back of her neck, her thoughts wander to the letter. Involuntarily, her mind pulls up a list of the dead with Sara’s name at the bottom. Ava closes her eyes, dropping down on top of her blankets. She lets out a breath as she pulls her legs to her, gently resting her hands on her knees. The words from her trainer that taught her how to clear her head repeat in her mind, clear as the day they had been spoken to her. As she sits there, she slowly feels her worries seep away and she almost enters a trance-like state. A state she is ripped out of when there is a gentle burn on her leg. It does not hurt, but the unexpectedness of it is enough to make Ava let out a curse as she opens her eyes. She looks down at her leg, pushing away the fabric of her trousers to look underneath. She finds a small mark she has not seen before, a new scar having found its way onto her body. She sighs, supposing she should not be surprised that her soulmate has gotten yet another scar. She traces the scar for a moment and her mind wanders to what her soulmate’s reaction is whenever she gets a new scar. A yawn interrupts her thoughts and Ava decides to leave it for another day, the call of sleep too loud for her to do anything else.   ***   A few more days pass and Ava talks to Sara all of two times, if the short words exchanged can even be called talking. When she gets a report from a nearby camp that needs reinforcements, Ava figures it is a good distraction from everything going on and makes up a squad to take with her there, instead of leaving it to one of her soldiers. Ava thinks she spots a head of blonde hair watching as they leave camp, but that could just be wishful thinking as she only sees it for a second. She shakes her head, willing her thoughts to move on to something else. Sara has made it pretty clear that she does not want to spend time with her anymore and that is just fine with Ava.   ***   When they arrive at the small Rebellion camp, multiple arrows are immediately pointed at them. Ava raises her fist both to signal for her squad to stop and to show the white canary symbol sewn into the wrist of her glove. Someone calls for the archers to stand down and opens the gate, ushering them through. “I apologize for the arrows, we cannot be too safe in these times,” the captain of the camp, a young woman, says. “There’s no need for apologies, you do what you have to to defend the camp,” Ava says, shaking the captain’s hand. The captain nods. “I’m Captain Reese, at your service. You’re the reinforcements we asked for?” “Yes, we came here as soon as we got word.” Before Ava can say anything else, Amaya comes up to her side. “General, Captain,” she says, nodding at both of them. “I was wondering if I could gain free range to check on your wounded?”  Captain Reese just stares at them for a second, before she nods her head vigorously at Amaya. “We would be very grateful.” Amaya offers a nod and leaves them be. “You’re the, uh, general? Of the Rebellion?” Captain Reese asks, looking at Ava with wide eyes. “I am,” Ava says, straightening her back — despite it being impossibly straight from before — and offers Captain Reese a slight nod. “Oh God, I had my archers point arrows at the general,” she whispers, looking horrified. “I would have done the same in your place,” Ava assures her. “Please, tell me about why we’re needed here,” she says, hoping to bring Captain Reese’s thoughts away from the way they had been greeted. “Of course,” she says, clasping her hands. “If you would follow me.”   The cause of the camp's problems turns out to be a rivalling Empire camp only a few miles away. Before Ava and her soldiers arrived, the Rebellion camp had almost been defeated by the Empire soldiers.  They leave camp late the next day, aiming to arrive at the camp at nightfall for the best chance of the enemy not seeing their attack. Their group is not the biggest — a rather big part of Captain Reese's soldiers are out of commission due to the last attack. But with Ava and her soldiers, its big enough to pose a threat. And with the advantage of an ambush, they do not need the bulk of their forces to defeat the camp. Or so Ava hoped. The battle is over much quicker than anyone thought it would be. Only a few soldiers are standing guard and none of them spot the group approaching in the darkness. The more stealthy soldiers take care of them quickly enough, and then Captain Reese leads the attack through the gates. To Ava, the attack is over in the blink of an eye. Most of the soldiers lay dead from trying to fight back and the survivors have been thrown in the dungeon. Ava’s squad stays the following night, partaking in the camp’s small celebrations at still being alive. With Amaya’s help, most of the wounded look to be recovering, which only adds onto the reasons for celebrating. Ava thinks about excusing herself early, but finds the celebrations a good distraction to the current state of the land and her personal life.   ***   Back at her own camp, Ava cannot be bothered to greet anyone but Gary before she makes her way as quickly as possible to her tent. It is not particularly late, but Ava is sweaty from the ride and the warm, sunny day, and is eager to get out of her armor and clothing. Too wrapped up in her thoughts, she does not notice anyone entering the tent until her name is spoken. Ava turns her head, pushing the tunic she just pulled off against her chest. “Sara,” she sighs, feeling something pull at the corner of her lips as her eyes take in Sara’s familiar face, her freckles even more adorable than usual in the low light of the tent. “Hey,” Sara says distractedly, eyes trained on Ava’s back. With a start, Ava realizes exactly what is on her back. “They’re not as bad as they look,” she says, imagining the scars she has ever only seen in mirrors. “Most of them aren’t even mine.” Ava mentally slaps herself, not knowing why she said that. Sara nods slowly, moving her eyes from Ava’s back to her face. “Your soulmate…” “Yeah,” Ava confirms, even though Sara had not posed it as a question. She feels weird saying it, yet somehow lighter. She has never mentioned her soulmate or any of their scars to anyone before. Not a lot of people have seen them and those who have assume the scars to be her own. “It’s a lot, but I don’t mind them,” she says when Sara continues to just stay there. “I don’t know if I’ll ever meet them but at least every new scar means they’re still alive, which I guess counts for something.” “Right,” Sara says, looking off to the side of the tent. Ava takes the opportunity to fetch a clean tunic, quickly pulling it above her head. “I wanted to ask you something, just after the other day—” “You want to be reassigned?” Ava cannot help herself from asking the question, her heart sinking in her chest at the thought of Sara possibly leaving. “What? No!” Sara says, eyes going wide. Relief washes through Ava at her words. “I just wanted to ask if we’re okay. After what happened.” Sara looks so open and vulnerable and Ava’s heart melts at the sight. “Yeah,” she says softly, offering Sara smile. “Yeah, we’re okay.” “Good,” Sara says, releasing a long breath. “I will let you get back to whatever you were doing before I intruded.” “See you tomorrow?” Ava says hopefully. “See you tomorrow,” Sara confirms before leaving. Ava cannot help a big smile as she watches the space Sara had previously occupied, a warm feeling spreading through her.

Draco knew he had to change his game. Hermione was treading on dangerous territory despite his warnings. She was a far too precious gem, and he didn’t want her to get caught in the middle of the crossfire. No. Fucking. Way. Her surprise appearance at St. Mungo’s confirmed his belief; she was stubborn as hell and was not letting it go. He needed a higher power to make her ditch his case,  this higher power being a man he wasn’t so fond of, Harry Potter. Hiding his blond hair under a hoodie, he kept his head low while walking through the hallway of the second floor towards his destination: the Magical Law Enforcement, more precisely the office of the Head Auror. He knocked softly, and the voice he hadn’t heard in a while gave him the permission he needed. He entered the room, sat in the chair appointed by an absent minded hand and waited. The dark-haired wizard looked up and slack-jawed, “Bite my arse, no one has seen you for ages, and you decide to make your first appearance in my office. To what do I owe the honour?” “Potter, I’m not here to trade pleasantries. I’m here for more urgent matters, issues you are more than likely aware of.” “Hermione.” “Granger, indeed. You need to get her off my back.” “Malfoy, I sound like a broken record by now. Have you any idea how many times I have told her to back off?” “She’s stubborn.” He smiled softly, surprising the wizard on his opposite side the most. Am I on drugs? Malfoy talks warmly about Hermione? The wonders of the world are not yet out… “Malfoy, I will not repeat this in her face, but you are spot on. When she’s into something, she’s unstoppable.” “This time it could cost her life. I’m not a magnet for good luck these days.” “Why do you care? She’s a mudblood.” See how Malfoy answers now, the answer will be determining. If I might help this man or not, depends on how he describes Hermione. “Be careful and don’t repeat that foul name in my presence again. Blood prejudice is an issue I wholeheartedly hate, definitely if it's about your friend. I’m alive because of her; my arse was saved from a stay at Azkaban thanks to her. Not something I’ll forget easily.” Draco spoke resolute, never faltering a word. “And she could have kicked me out of her house, and no one would have blamed her. Instead, she got me on my both feet again.” He unzipped his hoodie halfway, “Her stubbornness could kill her. Make her see reason.” “Malfoy, what do you think I have been saying to her the past days? All that I’ve said has fallen on deaf ears. Instead, she has paid visits to your friends-” “Yes, I know, Blaise, Pansy and Theo-” “Claiming to want to organise a school reunion!” Draco chuckled and shook his head, “The idea alone…She’s resourceful at least.” Harry had trouble comparing the man staring at him with the boy he used to know, who are you and what have you done with the git? "That's my Hermione." His amused face became a serious one, "Let me present an alternative, tell me what the hell is going on with you so that I can help you decently. Then you and Hermione can pursue whatever this is between the two of you." “Nothing is going on between her and I.” “Yes, and my name is Mickey Mouse.” Harry was not to be fooled, “Be honest with me and allow me to help you. I want us to set aside old grudges and misplaced pride feelings. From what I know, you were attacked in the neighbourhood of Knockturn Alley.” The blonde nodded, “Malfoy, did you recognise who attacked you?” “Hermione spoke of a Gibbons.” Harry flexed both hands, one over the other in a squeezing gesture, “Sometimes I would like to squeeze her neck.” Realising to whom he just confessed, Harry blushed, “Don’t you ever tell her I said that.” He lifted his spectacles to rub a hand over his face, “Gibbons, the former Death Eater. Theodore is convinced your father bought his freedom, according to Hermione.” “He didn’t, and you know it as well as I do. The thing is, when people are convinced otherwise it's hard to make them change their mind. I'm laying low, keeping to myself. I'm ashamed of what I did and said, of the man I was forced to be. I try to contribute where possible, as far as people allow me to go. To a certain extent, I'm content with the life I lead; I don't miss the jet set world for one bit." Harry listened intently; if he weren’t already convinced of Malfoy’s change of heart, then he would be now. This was a different human being than the spoiled brat he knew; this man was one Harry wanted to befriend. I’m no longer surprised about Hermione’s behaviour. Draco continued, looking off into the distance, “You would think that after ten years, people would let go, move on… Accept the past and focus on the future.” “How do you see your future Draco?” Addressing the blond by his given name, was a deliberate decision. Hopefully, the wizard would understand the hidden hint. “As it is right now? Me ending in a body bag; preferably not in the company of your stubborn witch.” Harry rose an eyebrow, “That’s pretty dark, why struggle? Why not ask for help? You still have friends.” “And bring my problems to their front door? Drag them down the pit with me? I know Blaise wants to help. I’m the one preventing him from doing it. And I’m trying to do the same with Hermione, alas with no success. That’s the sole reason why I’m here. You have to stop her.” He was at the end of his rope. “Draco, listen. There’s nothing I’d like more, but she doesn’t listen. And I’m starting to understand why Malfoy. I do.” Sigh, “Let’s get things straight, aside from this old grudge from Theodore, you have no idea why you’re being targeted?” “No.” “Have you seen anyone else besides this Gibbons?” “I didn’t even recognise the man, Potter.” Throwing his arms in the air; “They attacked me from behind, the cowards. But, nothing new here, Death Eaters attack in packs because alone they are chicken-shit scared.” “Draco,” Harry’s eyes bored into the blonds, “I’m getting to the bottom of this. Mainly to avoid that Hermione gets hurt and secondly, I believe you have paid your dues. It’s time you can return to a normal life.” “What will you do with Hermione?” "Work with her; it's the only way I can keep an eye on the witch. Sometimes she's too smart for her own good." Both men smirked. Draco took a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote a series of numbers on it and slid it to Harry, “This is my mobile; owls won’t find me.” The blond left shortly after, though with another point of view about his old school nemesis. Potter deserves his promotion; he allows common sense to prevail above old resentments. The wizard pondered of his youth, regretting once more his stance as a spoiled brat. We can’t change the past, only the future. Did he have a future? He wondered, Has Potter given me his blessing to pursue Hermione? The man had used his given name a few time, though Draco wasn’t yet ready to change his way of addressing the man himself, Should I fight back for her? Am I strong enough? -oOo- Hermione was making plans if he … correct this lady; it's not if, it's a when, when he arrives tonight, I'll know. I'm done with sleeping next to a charming prince and being unaware of it. Charming prince… “Have I called Draco a charming prince just now? He’s a spoiled brat, yes. A very sexy spoiled git. Oh hell, what’s happening to me?” She modified her wards to the point they would wake her up, upon his entry. As a nightgown, she chose a sexy laced thing she bought at Victoria’s Secret, during a well-deserved shopping day at Muggle London. It was a see-through; He has seen the merchandise already. See if he’ll only look and not touch, he he. Adjusting her cushions to sit comfortably on her bed, she set her notepad and a self-inking quill on her lap and wrote all she had: One: Theo has connections to the Carrow family, Rowle and Rookwood. Two: Rookwood knows Gibbons attacked Malfoy. Three: How does Rookwood know? Four: Reason? Only because the Malfoy’s aren’t in Azkaban? She ticked the point of her quill against her lip, “How gullible does this sound?” She talked aloud, “Here we are ten years later, and wounds haven’t disappeared but become dull instead. I still miss Fred but the pain doesn’t consume me anymore, Molly has adjusted too. Live and let live, move on.” Her arms made wide gestures, to accentuate her thoughts, “No person at Azkaban is there innocently, those who are still there have no right to a free life. They are condemned for their actions during the war, not because they said a ‘fuck you’ against a Minister.” She pondered in silence for a few minutes, “Maybe to catch a mouse I need a meaner cat. Who’s the big baddie, who also has extensive knowledge of the underworld and probably will do whatever needed to save his son?” Mentally she added to her tomorrow’s to-do-list: visit Malfoy Sr. -oOo- The chirping of  birds woke her the next morning. While the slumber dissipated, her brain made a few assessments. He didn’t show up, the git. And a notepad is not a fluffy pillow. And I have to satisfy my brain with the required dose of caffeine first and appease the growling beast on my stomach before I can move on to my first to-do-task. Harry’s owl ticked at her window and offered her paw, pecking at Hermione’s had until she received the wished treat as a thank you. The witch smiled, at the typical behaviour and opened the note. She pencilled her answer quickly and attached the letter back on the owl watching it fly away into the sky. Harry wanted to speak to her, probably to annoy her again and coerce her into stopping her mouse chase. He should know better by now. But her first task of the day was, visit the house of hell, aka Malfoy Manor.

(This picks up, right where the first part of the story left off...) She left me there as she had before: naked, my cock stiff, my heart pounding and my head crazy with wanting, and again she left the curtain open a bit, leaving me exposed if any passer-by happened to look back into the stall. This time I tried to calm myself, tried to stay nonchalant, and vowed not to make eye contact if someone did seem to notice me. That wasn't so easy, when I realized a pair of women strolling arm in arm had stopped and were whispering, looking at me, laughing. I pretended not to notice, but my cock, which had just started to calm down was having none of it, and grew again, stiffened right up, wanting all the attention it could get. Dasha came back then, with several pairs of pants, some shirts, and a bright smile. She gave a little laugh and kind of tossed her head, her long red hair flowing and her breasts swaying lightly under her light dress. "These should all fit," she said. "Try them on, see what you like." They were all very good quality, nice linen, the pants thicker material than the shirts. She watched me, commenting, and apparently had good taste. I liked it all, and told her so, "Wear what you want, and I will wrap up the rest," she said. "All of it?" "You need clothes, don't you? You can't wear that ridiculous stuff you had on before," she said. "These look good. Wear them. I will fold these up for you. Come along." I came out with her, and saw that the two women were still there, shamelessly watching me, laughing. Again I tried to pretend to not notice them, and really, my head was full of Dasha. I couldn't imagine that she was done with me, and I knew I wanted to put myself in her hands. I felt almost scared, certainly shy, but I had to say something. "Can I ... can we ... see each other?" "Silly boy, of course," she said, her voice low, soft. "Today?" "You're so eager for me to play with you?" I nodded. "You're not afraid I might - hurt you?" "I don't think you're mean, Dasha," I said. She looked in my eyes a moment, and then nodded. "I'm pleased you think that way," she said. "We can meet this evening, in the garden across the street, at the statue of Pushkin. You know Pushkin?" "Of course," I said. "Of course," she echoed. Then she gave me the other clothes in a bag, and when I asked her how much it all was, she laughed and shook her head. "I don't want any money from you. That would not feel right. These are yours, from me." If there ever would have been any doubt in my head about seeing her again, that would have knocked it out. But there hadn't been. I spent the day walking the city, wandering, looking. The beauty of Russian women has become almost a cliche, but in those days, when the Cold War had just ended and few had seen inside the Soviet Union, it was still a wonderful surprise. I felt like I'd never seen so many beautiful women, long hair, long legs, grace. And of course I was already excited, from what Dasha had done with me, and the expectation, the anticipation that she would play with me more. It didn't hurt that girls and women noticed me, my long hair stood out, and my penis wouldn't quite settle down - and sometimes that was noticed, too. Knowing we were going to meet at a statue of Pushkin, I thought I should get something by him, and at a little antiquarian bookstore I found a copy of his poems and of his novel in verse, and bought them both. I was looking at the beginning of the novel, sitting on a bench facing the statue, when I heard footsteps, and looked up to see Dasha. The grace of her movements astonished me. She was casual, calm, almost careless as she walked, her long read hair swaying down her back, her strong leg flashing out of the dress that fell just past her knees, the golden freckles across her broad face. I forgot every other woman I had seen and lost myself in her. She took my arm and we started to walk in the garden. It was quiet, evening, the sun gold over the trees, lighting the pink, green and yellow houses around. She asked me about my day, what I had done, and seemed pleased that I had merely wandered, explored. "My husband loved to walk the city, even though he lived here all his life," she said, and she held my arm tighter a moment. "I hope you don't mind me talking about him. It's just - he was just about your age when he died, and you look so much like him, and - maybe I got carried away today, but - he let me play with him like that, he would let me do things - he knew that letting me have control didn't mean he was weak. He knew it was the ultimate bravery to surrender yourself to another." She was close against me. I could smell the warmth of her body, feel her muscles as she walked, and her words filled my head. "He sounds like a very smart man," I said, my voice catching in my throat as I felt my cock stiffening. "You feel that too, don't you," she said. "That's what this is, isn't it?" Her left hand came across her body and pressed against my hard-on, closed half around it. I couldn't deny it, and didn't want to. I knew what I wanted. She nodded at a bench at a curve in the path. There was no one else around, evening coming on. The city was strangely quiet, even at midday, back then. "Let's sit down," she said. When we did, she stretched her legs out straight in in front of her. I followed their line out to her feet, slender in light canvas sneakers, and I thought of how she did nothing fancy, and yet had captivated me from the moment we started talking. "My feet get sore, standing all day," she said softly. "You should put them up, let them rest," I said. She turn on the bench and moved a little away from me, as she did placing her feet lightly in my lap. "Is this what you mean?" she asked. I nodded and put my hands on them. "May I?" I asked. She shrugged, her smile turned to teasing. I slipped one sneaker off, then the other, and started to massage her right foot. Her toes were long, slender like her foot, her legs, and her feet were somehow both strong and delicate, with high arches. As I massaged, I turned to face her more. She let me take her right foot, but brought her left into my lap, and pressed it against my cock. "Take it out, Dean," she said. "What if someone..." I looked around. "You can cover it, if someone comes," she said. "Take it out." I gently put her foot down, and nearly tore open the fly of my pants, letting my hard-on stand up. As good as the fresh air felt on my exposed cock, when she pushed her foot against it, grabbing it just under the head between her toes, that felt even better. And when I lifted her foot again, without thinking, without pausing, I brought it to my face, to my lips, and began to kiss her sole. My eyes were closed, but I heard her sigh and laugh, heard her say tenderly, "Oh my, you sweet boy. My feet are dirty, you know." Yes, her foot tasted of salt, of sweat, and I could feel little grains of sand or dirt, I don't know what, but I kept kissing her sole, up to her toes, and I licked between them, sucked them into my mouth, kissed them, all the while feeling her rubbing my shaft with her other foot. I had opened my eyes, watched her watching me, her smile nearly laughing, her eyes dancing. She squeezed my cock between her big and middle toes, surprisingly strong, and pressed with her heel against my balls, the pressure right at the place between pain and ecstasy. As she released, a gush of precum came up, and then another. As I kissed my way to the arch of her right foot, she rubbed her left up my shaft, then took her right foot away from my lips and gave me her left, which was wet with my goo. I sucked at it, licked it up, tasting the tang of my own juice with her salty, sweaty feet, felt the joy of her watching me do it. "Do you like that?" she asked. "Do you like kissing my feet, Dean?" "My god I do," I murmured into her sole. "You don't mind that someone's watching you? A woman on her balcony - don't look - she's enjoying the evening, enjoying you pleasing me. You don't want to make her self-conscious." "She can watch," I said. "I - I'm not ashamed of kissing your feet. I don't care who knows." She moved her foot away from my hard-on, giving it a last little kick as she pulled it away. "Stroke yourself, Dean," she said softly. "Show her how much you love my foot against your lips." I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my cock and started stroking it, holding her foot to my lips with my other hand, kissing her. "What must she think of you? A grown man, jerking off while he kisses a woman's foot, her toes. And you're not ashamed at all? Embarrassed? What if you meet her, if she recognizes you - someone you work with - a student. With your long hair, she would know you right away, on the street, with her friends - would she tell them? Would they come to you, tease you-" I kept on stroking myself, trying to control myself but slowly going faster and faster, her voice in my head building everything up until I felt on the verge of cumming, of shooting out everything - but she must have felt it. She pulled her foot away, grabbed my arm and pulled my hand off my cock. "No, Dean," she said. "Not now. Not yet. Not here. That's for later. Come home with me, we'll have some dinner. You can meet my sister." My heart was pounding, I was almost out of my mind. My cock was twitching, so close I could feel it, feel it wanting to burst out. I felt my face burning. She slipped her feet into her light sneakers, stop up and took my hands, brought me up, too, before I had even put myself away. I was afraid to touch it, feeling just my fingers on it could set me off. Again I looked in her face, the fine lines at the corners of her gray eyes, her wide smiling mouth, her straight red hair, bold as she herself. "Put it away and we'll go home," she said. I gently got it inside, closed up my fly. Then I saw the woman, youngish, blonde like so many here, leaning on the railing of her balcony over the garden. "Don't worry, Dean," Dasha said. "She wouldn't have watched if she didn't like what she saw. I'm sure she'll think about you a lot now." And with that, we started out of the garden, to her home.

Martin wakes up to the familiar sensation of hair sticking to his mouth and a sharp knee digging into his hip. It’s not remotely comfortable, but even groggy with sleep it brings an immediate smile to his face. Of all the little things he’s come to be comfortably accustomed to, his boyfriend twining around him without fail every night like some kind of heat-seeking vine is one of the most endearing.  He can’t check the time - his mobility is a tad compromised at the moment - but the strength of the sun streaming through the window tells him enough. He nuzzles into the sleep-tangled mess of hair in front of him.  “Jon.”  There’s a beat, followed by an unnatural stillness.  Martin huffs out a quiet laugh and kisses the top of Jon’s head. “I know you’re awake. We have to get up.”  The vine clings just a little bit tighter.  “I know, but we’re going to see the flat at eleven, and then we told Georgie and Melanie we’d-” He finds himself abruptly freed as Jon shoves away and flops over with a pained groan, dragging a pillow over his face. “Can I have one day where I don’t have to interact with Melanie King?” comes the muffled complaint.  Martin rolls his eyes as he pushes himself into a sitting position. “You haven’t seen her in over a week.” He stifles a yawn and reaches for his phone.  “My previous record was a year.”  “You know, everyone knows you’re both just playing it up for the drama, at this point. You get along fine. I mean for you guys.” Martin yanks the pillow off of Jon’s face and tosses it aside. “Come on, it’s already after nine.”  The look Jon gives him is nothing short of petulant. Martin snorts. Then he dips down to kiss his forehead before finally sliding out of bed.  “Well, I’m going to go shower. Love you.” He pauses halfway to the door, waiting. “...I love you.”  An exasperated, drawn-out sigh and a warm, if grumbled, “...I love you, too” are eventually forthcoming, and Martin grins to himself. That’s been pretty nice to get used to, too. He goes to grab a fresh towel and lays one out for Jon while he’s at it. The fluffy yellow one. When he comes back to the bedroom a short while later, Jon is propped up against the headboard, texting.  Martin moves around the room, collecting his clothes for the day. “Who’s that?”  Jon glances up at him before returning his eyes to the phone. He types out something and then sets it down on the nightstand. “Sasha. She’s found a new lead on the circus. At least she’s fairly certain.” He slings his legs over the side of the bed and finally gets up, stretching.  “Oh.” Martin pauses, one leg in his trousers. “Should we- do you need to go in..?”  “I-” Jon grimaces. “No. I asked, and she has a handle on it for now. Besides, she’s working from home. She forwarded me what she found.”  “If you’re sure.” Martin resumes getting dressed, watching Jon as he lays out his own clothes. It’s bothering him, Martin can tell; not going. But ever since they found out exactly what the institute is, they’ve been trying to make sure no one spends any more time there than strictly necessary. Doing what they need to do - right now, learning what they can about the Stranger - but staying connected to their lives outside. Making lives outside.  It’s not perfect, and Martin hates every day that any one of them is stuck there, but it’s the best solution they’ve got for now. And it helps.   He fixes them both a quick breakfast while Jon showers, relieved to see that he comes out looking less distressed. They chat quietly about other things while they eat and Martin texts Georgie to confirm the time, and then they’re on their way.  “Good sized kitchen,” Martin points out. It’s easily twice the size of the one in their flat, with spacious countertops and a double sink. Jon has taken up cooking recreationally in the past few months - in the name of getting a hobby, at Martin’s and Georgie’s insistence, anything at all not related to work. They’ve both found that he’s really quite good at it, and finds it cathartic, besides.  Plus, it gets him to eat regularly without any extra trouble on Martin’s part, so it’s a win on all sides.  He wanders in after Martin, looking around. He nods, looking faintly pleased, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.  Martin frowns and takes an instinctive step towards him. “Everything alright?”  “Hm?” Jon blinks at him. “Oh. Oh, yes, just-” He averts his eyes, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. “I, er, I asked if they allow pets here. They do. Small ones.”  It takes Martin a second, but then his frown instantly morphs into a wide grin. “Are you asking me if we can get a cat?”  Now Jon definitely looks sheepish. He stares at the smooth countertop with studied concentration. Traces his fingers along the edge of it. “It’s not like we haven’t discussed it before. And- I know you get to spend a lot of time with the Admiral, since you started working more with Georgie-”  “Yes.”  This gets Jon to look up. He narrows his eyes. “Yes..?” “Yes, Jon, we’ll get a cat,” Martin laughs. “It’ll be nice to have the extra company.” And I think it would be good for you, he doesn’t say.  “Oh.” Jon smiles - one of those rare, bright, full smiles that Martin is still trying to find new ways to draw from him. He mentally files away ‘cats’ on his growing list. And then Jon quickly bites it back and stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking past Martin and out into the dining room.  “Good. I mean, I’m glad you’re on board. I think it- it could help.” He clears his throat. “So, this seems like a nice one. Ready to sign?” Martin lets out a startled laugh. “We haven’t seen it all!”  Jon huffs irritably. He waves his hand vaguely at their surroundings. “It has a kitchen, an office for you, and enough room for our cat.”  “All the essentials.” Martin rolls his eyes. “Still, I’d like to at least check out the water pressure.”  “Right. Of course you would.” “What’s that even supposed to mean, Jon?”  Jon levels him with a flat look as they leave the kitchen. “You are the pickiest man I’ve ever seen about your showers.”  Martin scoffs, half indignant, half amused, but refrains from taking this any further. If only for the sake of the poor lady showing them around.  Half an hour later he’s sat next to Jon on the tube on their way to Georgie’s new studio.  In the wake of learning about- well, everything, he and Melanie had decided they no longer had the stomach for in-person supernatural encounters, and so Melanie had handed over control of the channel to Andy and defected to Georgie’s podcast. They’re currently working on getting her own show running, and talking about taking on other projects. Georgie has taken Martin on as a regular guest, as well.  Today, she and Melanie are getting everything moved into the new space, and since Martin is off work - he’d also picked up a job at a bakery that opened recently - they’re going over to help out.  Jon is quiet and preoccupied next to him, and Martin takes the opportunity to study him. He watches him first read the email Sasha had sent him, and then settle back against his seat and gaze absently down the aisle. He looks- relaxed. Tired, careworn, but genuinely alright, all things considered. On impulse, Martin reaches out to take his hand. Jon startles and looks up, takes in Martin’s smile, and offers a small one of his own before lacing their fingers together. Georgie is just getting back with an arm-full of donuts and coffee - one iced, extra sweet, extra un-coffee-like for Jon, as always - when they arrive at the studio.  Jon reaches for his drink, and she makes a scolding noise and steps back out of his reach, regarding both of them critically.  “And just where have you two been?”  “Sorry.” Jon tosses a sharp look at Martin. “Someone wanted to check the water pressure in the new flat.”  Martin makes an offended sound next to him, and Georgie rolls her eyes. “The nerve of him, right?” She shoves the box of donuts into Jon’s arms and - much more politely, he notices - hands Martin the coffees. “Come on, tell me about it while we work.”  Melanie is on a step ladder when they walk in, placing sound-proofing tiles. She twists around at the sound of the door opening and slumps against the wall. “Oh, thank god.”  She hops down from the ladder and makes a bee-line for Jon, taking the donuts from his arms and unceremoniously replacing them with a stack of foam tiles. “Here. You two be useful for a change. My back is killing me.”  “We’re only fifteen minutes late,” Jon grumbles.  “And I’ve been here working for forty-five,” Melanie snips back.  “Remind me when we mutually decided that you’d-”  “Children,” Martin warns lightly. He takes half the tiles from Jon and makes his way over to where Melanie had left off.  “Thank you, Martin,” Georgie calls over, long-suffering, from where she’s settled down on the floor to start unboxing equipment. “We cannot let those two get started.” To Jon and Melanie, “You know you’re just alike, right?”  “What can I say?” Melanie says, offhand. “You have a type.” She opens the box of donuts. Jon snatches one before she can stop him - more out of petulance, he admits, than actually wanting one - and hurries over to join Martin.  “So,” Georgie asks, “how was the flat?”  “Really nice!” Martin answers, brightening. Jon smiles at the enthusiasm in his voice. “It’s clean, has plenty of room, the second bedroom is perfect for that office I’ve been needing. Beautiful kitchen for Jon.”  “Great water pressure,” Jon adds, innocently enough.  “Would you-” Martin swears as one of the tiles falls and smacks him in the face. Jon catches it and hands it back to him before resuming placing his own. “-behave? Just because you don’t care if your showers- Anyway, we like it! We’ll be moving in as soon as Jon’s lease is up.”  “About time,” Melanie says. She’s crouched down near Georgie and dragged another box over. “Now you guys can take a turn hosting game nights.”  “We’ve offered,” Jon points out, waspish.  “Yeah, but no one wants to hang out in your dingy grandma flat all night. We’re trying to keep everyone’s spirits up, remember?”  “Melanie,” Georgie scolds, but Jon can hear the laughter in her voice. He regards her flatly before turning back to the wall. More seriously, she adds, “Congrats, you two. You’re getting your official first place together! It’s a big step.”  “Yeah, actually,” Melanie agrees. “Hosting benefits aside, we’re happy for you guys.”  Martin thanks her shyly, and Jon ducks his head and sets about lining up the next tile with determined precision. Warm contentment curls in his chest, and he can feel Martin’s eyes on him, followed by a gentle hand sliding across his back -- before it has to dart back up to catch another falling tile.  And so they get back to work, chatting idly about the new flat and then the studio and then plans for future podcast episodes. Jon doesn’t say much, content to just listen to the friendly chatter. And he is. Content, that is. More than that, he thinks, considering for a moment; he’s happy.  It might seem absurd, considering. He’s happy. There was a long time in his life when he truly didn’t think he’d get to have any of this. And then he got it, and almost as quickly thought he’d have to watch it all be ripped away again.  But here they are. It’s not perfect, but they’re all working through it. And they’re closer than ever. Not just him and Martin, but- everyone. Tim and Sasha and him. Georgie. Melanie. They’re doing what they can with the circumstances they have, and they’re supporting each other and keeping each other grounded and it’s- more than Jon ever hoped for or thought he should hope for, even without supernatural circumstances.  It’s good.  “Oh, sure,” Martin’s voice, bubbling with laughter, breaks into his thoughts. He’s talking to Georgie or Melanie, Jon didn’t hear. “Sure, let me just grab my phone and ring up all the ghosts I know-”  Jon snorts, despite having lost track of the conversation a while ago. Martin beams down at him and it makes his chest tighten pleasantly.   Every moment like this means more to Jon than he can put into words. Someday he should try. But for now he just accepts a bundle of wires from Martin and crouches down to begin untangling them while that warmth curls up through his ribcage again and settles there.  Suddenly - or not, Jon’s lost track of things again - Melanie stands up. “Martin,” she says, “come help me with something upstairs?”  Jon looks up at hearing Martin addressed. Fixes his eyes on his face. Martin blinks and seems a bit taken aback. So it was sudden, then. But then he smiles and says, “Um, yeah, sure?” and turns to Jon. “Be back in a bit, I guess?”  “Uh- right, alright.” Jon accepts his quick hug and watches them leave, brow furrowed. He turns to Georgie with a question on his lips, but she’s got her back to him, steadily working at getting their equipment set up on the table.  He stands up to go join her, pulling up a chair across from her. “So…” “So,” she agrees, not looking up. Not getting anything from her, then. He huffs in frustration and reaches for a box of- something. He’ll figure it out, he supposes.  They work together in companionable silence - a microphone, it turns out, that’s what he’d grabbed - until finally Georgie speaks up.  “Hey,” she says. “How are you doing, Jon? Really?”  Jon glances up at her, then returns his attention to the mic he’s fitting together. “I’m- good..? I’m good, actually. It’s-” He presses his lips together, thinking. “It’s better. It’s not easy, but, it’s better. Martin makes sure of that,” he laughs. “And… you, and everyone else. It’s not easy, keeping things balanced. But it helps.”  “Good.” After a beat, she reaches across and lays her hand on his forearm, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m proud of you, Jon. I hope you know that. Not just for, you know. But everything else. I’m proud of you.”   The plastic base he’d been fitting goes skittering across the table. “I- I, erm-” He quickly retrieves it, keeping his eyes down. He nods once, stiffly, and resumes his work. “...Thank you, Georgie. That means a lot.” He tries to pretend not to notice the sudden emotion clogging his voice, and knows she’ll be kind enough to do the same.  He’s just had enough time to swallow back the feelings and no small embarrassment threatening to undo him, when Georgie clears her throat. He looks up to find her giving him a pointed, curious look. It makes him uneasy. “On another note…” she begins, “...have you thought about it any more? The thing we talked about?”  ...Unease is quickly replaced with bafflement. He scrunches his face at her. “The thing we-” And then it hits him. “Oh. Oh.” He instantly drops his eyes back to the table, fidgeting with the mic stand. “I- well, yes. Yes, I’ve thought about it.” He sets the mic aside and drags over the next box.  “And?” She’s relentless.  “And what?” Jon’s fingers stop their fidgeting in favor of tapping an agitated rhythm against the tabletop. “I’ve thought about it. ...And decided that it’s probably a bad idea, considering.”  “Jonathan.”  “Georgina,” he shoots back automatically. He raises his head again, fixing her with a serious look. “Look at us, Georgie- look at me. Look at our lives. Not- not to mention it’s too soon. Everything else aside, it’s only been a year-”  “Since you made it official,” Georgie points out. “We all know you were a thing long before that. And you lived together before that. If you’re hung up on doing things ‘right’, I’d say that ship has sailed, Jon.”  “That’s- fair,” Jon concedes, reluctant. “That’s fair. But the other things I mentioned-” “What about them?”  When Jon raises an eyebrow at her, she amends, “Okay, I know it’s not something to just brush off. And that’s not what I’m trying to do, sorry.” She gives him a soft smile. “And I hope to god you guys find a way out of this mess. But for now, don’t hold yourself back from the good in your life while you’re trying to sort out the bad.”  Jon regards her a long moment, then rubs at the back of his neck; a nervous habit he’d picked up from Martin. He drops his hand back to the table with a sigh. “...Do you really think it’s a good idea?”  Georgie doesn’t hesitate. “Do you love him?”  “Of- of course. Yes.” He feels his cheeks warming traitorously. Even now, after all this time.  She nods, lips pursed. “And you really want this?”  “I think we’ve established that, Georgie.”  “And you think he’ll say yes?”  “God, I hope-” he cuts himself off when he catches her smug look. “...Point taken,” he grumbles. “Fine. I’ll- I’m going to do it. Soon.”  “Mhm.” Georgie stretches across the table for a loose adapter. Jon reaches it first and hands it to her. “I’m going to hold you to that. In your own time, of course. But it’s not allowed to take another near-death experience, Jonathan, I swear.” She flicks a scrap of cardboard at him.  “Hey.” He knocks the cardboard off his shirt with a huff. Shakes his head. “...Thanks, Georgie. For-” he gestures vaguely at her. “All of it. All the time.”  She grins at him. “Love you, Jon.”  “You, too.” Then, desperate to change the subject, “You were, uh, talking about a new segment on the show..?” She gives him a knowing look, but goes along with it. “Yeah, Martin helped come up with it, actually--”  “So, what’s new with you?” Melanie asks once they’re upstairs. She’d brought Martin up here to help rearrange the room, apparently? Table off to the side, filing cabinet moved to the other, that old desk sat by the door and ready for Georgie’s friend to come and pick it up.  Martin laughs. “Melanie, we talk almost every day.”  “About boring stuff,” she says, waving him off. “Here, get the other side.” She grabs onto the end of the table, and he moves to the other. “I want to know the good stuff. Life-changing plans. That sort of thing.”  “Um. Well.” Martin lifts the table on her count, and they carry it across the room and carefully set it down. “I don’t know, um, I’ve told you I’m going to uni next fall?.. If all goes well, I mean.”  Melanie nods as she crouches down to get a grip on a filing cabinet. “Right, good. What else?”  “Can I ask why I’m being interrogated?” Martin grabs the other side and they lift. He grunts in surprise; it’s a lot heavier than he’d expected.  “Excuse me- Jesus, what’s in here, bricks? - for wanting to know about my best friend’s life.”  Martin scoffs at that. “Best friend? Really?” “Well, technically Georgie’s my best friend, yeah,” she amends. “But she’s got the girlfriend title now, so you’re promoted to best friend. Congratulations.”  “Good to know.” Martin rolls his eyes, but fondly. They get the cabinet moved and go for the desk. They’ve got it halfway across the room when Melanie continues: “So..? You didn’t answer my question. Anything else? Getting married any time soon- shit, Martin-!”  The desk slips with a violent crash, sending drawers flying open and loose papers cascading out across the floor. Martin freezes there, wide-eyed, face flaming. Then he flusters and springs into action, dropping to his knees and gathering up the spilled pages.  “Sorry, sorry, but- what? Why would you ask that?”  Melanie kneels next to him, inspecting the desk for damage and replacing the drawers. “Because you guys are stupidly in love and practically married already?” She straightens up, dusting off her knees. “Desk is fine. No thanks to you.”  He stands too, slipping the papers back into the top drawer. “Well, what do you expect, Melanie? Springing a question like- that onto somebody.”  They get the desk successfully moved, and Melanie perches on the edge of it. “Have you guys talked about it any..?”  “Seriously?” Martin scrubs a hand over his still warm face. Props himself against the wall. “...Yeah? We have. A- a bit. In passing, like, not a serious sit-down conversation. But, erm, it’s something we both want, yeah.” He thinks. He hopes.  His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, at least in part from the crash, but also… Martin slips his hand reflexively into his pocket, fingers curling around the tiny box there. “Did, um,” he clears his throat. Fixes his face into something hopefully fairly neutral. “Did Jon say something, or..?”  “Not to me, and if he’d said something to Georgie I’d probably know about it, so…” Melanie shrugs and hops off the desk. “But that’s good-” “I’m going to ask him,” Martin blurts out.  He notices Melanie still, then. She turns to him slowly, an odd expression on her face. “Ask him what, exactly..?” “What were we just talking about?” Martin deadpans. “To... to marry me.” He feels a little laugh rising in his throat. “I’m going to propose to Jon.”  Melanie’s eyes go wide with something that looks like alarm. “Oh. Martin, I don’t-” She snaps her mouth shut. Martin frowns. “You were just on me about marrying the guy-” “No, no, marry him, by all means.” Melanie waves her hands. “Just- you’re asking him? You’re sure?”  “What’s that supposed to mean?”  “Nothing. You know? Never mind.” She smiles and pats him on the arm. “Good luck. Seriously. And I’d better be invited to the wedding.”  “Of course. And- thanks?” Martin watches her head back down the stairs with some consternation. He shakes it off and takes a moment to compose himself; smoothing out his clothes, making sure the box in his pocket isn’t too obvious. Forcing back the half giddy, half nervous smile that he feels dancing at the edges of his features. Melanie hurries on ahead of him and back into the room where they’d left Jon and Georgie. Jon’s head snaps up when they walk in. He looks a touch flustered and wide-eyed himself. Martin tilts his head, questioning, but Jon simply gives him a tight smile and returns his attention to whatever he and Georgie were working on.  Okay. Cool.  Melanie strides over to Georgie’s spot by the table and slips an arm easily around her waist. “Help me with something upstairs?” she asks pointedly, leaning her head into Georgie’s shoulder.  “Wait,” Jon begins, glancing from her to Martin and back again, “didn’t you just-”  “Sure, let’s go.” Georgie drops a quick kiss to Melanie’s temple and they head for the stairs, both sending Martin an odd look as they go.  Martin watches them helplessly. “What the hell…” He turns back to Jon, who he finds is studying his face carefully. Of course. It sets his heart racing again. “Is everything alright?” Jon asks.  “Hm? Yeah. Think so.” Martin casts one final baffled look towards the staircase before settling down in Georgie’s empty chair. More aware than ever of the little box pressing into his hip. He swallows his nerves and nudges Jon’s shin under the table with his foot. “So,” he says brightly. “What are we working on?”  Jon studies the board before him shrewdly. He’s got a clear shot at Tim’s capitol with the bulk of his infantry, but Melanie is coming up on his flank and he’d have to divide his forces if he wanted to keep his own capitol guarded, weakening his chances at both. He internally curses himself for falling for Martin’s trap all those turns back; he could really use some ranged pieces right now.   It’s game night, just over two weeks later. Sasha is hosting this time, and they’re all huddled on the floor of her living room, surrounded by empty pizza boxes. Jon picks up a cavalry piece and hovers it above the board. He’s- “Oh my god,” Melanie breaks in. “For the record, if this was a real war? Your empire would be burned to the ground by now.”  -trying to take this seriously. He says as much. “I thought that was what you wanted?”  “Meaning ‘get off your phone and stop snarking the whole time’.” Melanie rolls her eyes. “Not turn into the world’s biggest board game nerd.”  Jon narrows his eyes at her. Then he sets his piece back down and sits back. “I skip my turn.”  “Are you serious? You’ve had me blocked in for six turns, you prick-”  Tim bursts into loud laughter and claps Jon on the shoulder. “Don’t take it personally,” he tells Melanie. “He just knows one of us will kick his ass the second he makes a m- hey!”  While he was talking, Sasha had quietly taken her turn, and now his capitol is surrounded. She raises her eyebrows mildly. “Speaking of,” she says. Martin snorts, and Jon makes eye contact with him across the board.  Twenty-six. That’s how many freckles Martin has on his face. He gets to know that, now. He has for a while, but he always re-counts, just in case.  Something warm and familiar passes between them and it makes Jon’s stomach swoop pleasantly.  “Guys, you’re doing it again,” Melanie intones. “Martin, your move.”  “Oh, right, right, sorry-” Martin flusters and hunches forward over the board, casting Jon a final shy glance before turning his attention to his pieces. Jon flusters too, and then even more so when he raises his eyes to catch Tim and Sasha exchanging a look.  “What?” he snaps.  “Just never get tired of this, that’s all,” Tim explains, disproportionately smug.  “Ew.” Melanie shakes her head. “I really don’t get you two.”  “Hey, you didn’t live through what we did,” Sasha points out. “Let us have our victory.”  “I had to deal with Martin and his pining.” Melanie’s turn comes up, and she glares at the board. “Still can’t fucking move, Jon.”  Tim scoffs. “You’re going to try and tell us that Martin pining is worse than Jon?”  “I’m right here, Tim,” Jon says irritably, flushed as he keeps his eyes firmly on the board.  Martin speaks up. “Honestly. And come on, guys, it’s been a year. Can we talk about something other than my love life? Ever?”  Melanie seconds that motion adamantly. Sasha rubs Martin’s arm companionably.  “We don’t mean to make it weird. It’s honestly just the most interesting thing going on in our lives right now.”  Now is Jon’s turn to scoff. “Do I need to remind you that we’re tracking a circus of supernatural clowns-” Melanie and Martin both make a sharp, scolding noise. Jon flinches and whips his head up in alarm. “Nope! Rule number one of game night,” Melanie says. “No clown talk.”  “Jon, we’ve talked about this,” Martin scolds. Tim is shaking his head in disgust.  Jon holds his hands up, placating. “Accident. It just- slipped out. Clown rule. I remember.”  It takes him a moment to realize the sound swelling in the room is Sasha, doubled over in hysterical giggles. Jon straightens up, concerned. “Sasha..?”  “Hold on,” she gasps, shaking with mirth. She sits up and leans into Martin’s side, swiping at her eyes. “Sorry,” she says, high and breathless. “It’s just that our lives are so stupid- we have to have a clown rule--”  Tim promptly loses it next, and then Martin. Jon catches Melanie’s eye and they look at each other helplessly for a long moment before finally, reluctantly, letting the laughter catch them, too.  Eventually, they do manage to finish their game - Sasha wins, as usual, but Martin almost got her - and Melanie heads home. The others decide to put on a movie at Martin’s suggestion; no one quite ready to part ways yet.   “Sounds good,” Sasha says. “I’ve got some popcorn above the sink.”  “Great! I’ll go fix it,” Martin offers. He squeezes Jon’s knee before rising and heading into the kitchen. Jon watches him leave.  Tim stands up next, heading for the door. He’d grown quiet the last little while. “Be right back,” he says, cheerful as ever. “Just need some air.”  Jon hesitates. These past several months have been the hardest on Tim, out of all of them. He’d been down after the Prentiss attack, but then when they’d found out- everything, had learned about the Stranger, well. Jon shares a look with Sasha, biting his lip. Finally, he gives a mumbled, “I’ll, ah, I’ll be…” He waves at the door and gets up to follow Tim.  He finds him outside on the balcony, leaning on his elbows on the railing and staring out into the night, pensive. Jon joins him, mirroring his posture. Neither of them says anything for a long moment, until Jon tentatively breaks the silence.  “Are you- are you thinking about-”  “Yeah,” Tim bites out. He doesn’t look at Jon. “Never stop thinking about him, if I’m being honest.”  Jon doesn’t know what to say to that. He peeks over at Tim, faltering. Finally he reaches an awkward hand out and settles it on Tim’s shoulder. Tim tenses briefly, giving Jon a sharp glance, before relaxing and slinging an arm heavily around his back.  “What a mess, huh?” Tim asks. Jon assumes it’s rhetorical. “...Sasha referred me to her therapist,” Tim continues, after a blank. “The one she went to after Jane Prentiss. It helps. This-” He raises his arm from Jon’s back just long enough to gesture behind them, “-helps.”  “I’m glad,” Jon answers quietly. He means it. He really does.  Tim huffs out a humorless laugh, but the crooked smile he turns on Jon looks genuine, at least. “You know, you’ve got to start being more of a bastard again. You’re too soft these days, boss. I don’t know how to deal with you.”  Jon starts to pull away, a sharp retort on his tongue more for the sake of playing along than anything, when the door creaks open, flooding the balcony with light. They both turn around.  “Martin’s going to come looking for you guys,” Sasha warns, leaning out the door. “You know how serious he is about rule number two.”  “What’s that one again?” Tim asks.  “No brooding alone on the balcony,” Sasha says. At Jon’s skeptical look, she adds, "I know. But he’s your boyfriend, and they’re his rules. Take it up with him.”  “Won’t be necessary,” Tim says. He claps Jon on the back with a resounding thump. Jon coughs and glares at him. “We’re not alone, at any rate. So we’re free to go on brooding all we like.”   “You know I can hear you,” Martin calls lightly from inside the living room.  “Busted,” Sasha mumbles, sing-song. “Come on, popcorn’s ready.” She turns and heads back inside. Once they’re back in, Tim takes the armchair, and Sasha curls up on one end of the couch. Jon sinks down on the other end next to Martin, letting him pull him close to his side.  Martin smiles down at him, soft and concerned. “Hey. Alright?”  Jon lets his head fall back against Martin’s warm shoulder. He hums, affirmative. “Just talking.” Martin pulls him closer and passes him the bowl of popcorn.  When they get home late that night, while Martin is doing something or other in the kitchen before bed, Jon opens the bottom dresser drawer and peeks under the stack of old shirts he’s got stuffed in there. Checking on the tiny, plain box tucked away beneath them. The sight of it sends his pulse rocketing and he hurriedly replaces the shirts and slams the drawer shut, straightening up just as Martin enters the bedroom.  Martin gives him a bemused look. One that quickly turns to suspicion. “Jon, if you’ve got a tape recorder or a statement or something-”  “I don’t,” Jon insists, defensive. He wipes his damp palms on his pajamas. “I just, ah- thought I saw... something. A bug.”  “A bug.”  “Yep.”  And Martin doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he just shakes his head and climbs into bed. “Well, come on. It’s late. The ‘bugs’ can wait til morning.”  Jon starts to protest out of habit, but he’s cut off by a heavy yawn. “...Right.” He climbs in next to Martin, who wastes no time wrapping him in his arms.  “Christ, Jon, your heart’s pounding.” He sits up, brow furrowed in concern. “Was it a spider? Do you need me to get it?” He’s already half out of bed. Jon panics and shoots out his hand, latching onto Martin’s wrist.  “No!” It comes out far sharper than intended and he winces. “I mean- it’s- it wasn’t a spider. It’s fine. Let’s just rest.”  Martin hesitates a moment before sliding back into bed and turning off the lamp. Jon flops back against the pillow in relief. He’ll have to find another hiding spot. That or go ahead and ask the damned question. To his dismay, that sets his pulse racing even faster. He twists around in Martin’s arms, curling against him in a way that hopefully will make it less noticeable. Martin makes a surprised little sound and slides a hand into his hair. Murmurs some quiet endearment.  Good, Jon thinks. Crisis averted. Good.  He’ll have to do something about this.  Soon.  Martin rocks on his heels as the last customer meanders out of the shop. Honestly, it’s what? Fifteen steps to the door? How are they still here? His eyes flick anxiously from the clock to the street outside, stomach flipping every time someone passes by the door or so much as glances at the window. Finally, finally, the world champion of the leisurely pace pushes the door open and steps out into the street, and Martin rushes out from behind the counter and turns the lock and draws the blinds before anyone else can get a craving for last minute pistachio muffins.  He sweeps up and wipes down the counters with such haste that he actually breaks a sweat. Then he counts the money, locks the register, and bolts for the backdoor, yanking his apron off and flinging it over his shoulder with a flourish of relief and frantic energy.  They moved into their new flat today; Jon should already be there, getting things unpacked. And Martin definitely wants to hurry home to help him, and also just to enjoy the experience of moving into their first real place together.  But that’s not why his throat is so dry and his hair is disheveled beyond all hope from him running his shaking hands through it every couple minutes.  A little jolt of fear hits him - unfounded, for at least the hundredth time today - and he shoves his hand in his pocket. As soon as his fingers touch the box, he lets out a long gust of a sigh and sinks back against his seat.  Tonight’s the night. He’s got it all planned out; later on, he’ll suggest they take a break from packing, that Jon go and have a shower or something. While he’s gone, Martin will lay out a blanket and some pastries he’s brought with him from the shop. Dig out that bottle of wine he’s got stowed away. Light some candles. And there on the floor of their new home, surrounded by boxes and the clutter of their shared life, he’ll ask the man he loves more than that life itself to marry him.  His skin prickles hot and cold in turns. Perfect. Can’t go wrong. His foot bounces an anxious rhythm on the floor of the cab - habit he’s picked up from Jon - and he forcefully stills it. Curls his hands into tight fists on his lap.  It won’t go wrong.  He bites his lip. It won’t.  ...So far, everything that could possibly go wrong has done so with reckless abandon.  Martin had arrived at the front door of their flat to the sound of a muffled curse. He’d broken into a sprint and flung the door open to find Jon standing in the middle of the hall, glaring with deepest offense at a spilled box of shattered plates.  And things had only gone downhill from there.  Somehow, an entire box of clothes had been misplaced in the move. Martin had rushed back to their old flat to look for it, praying to anyone who might be listening that the door would be unlocked. His prayers, of course, had gone unanswered.  He’d managed to hunt down the landlord and beg him to come down and open it, only to find that the clothes weren’t even there. Arrived back to the new flat an hour later to Jon having broken a lamp - “What the hell are you doing while I’m gone?” he’d demanded. Jon had snapped back in defense and muttered something that Martin swore better not be about a bloody spider - and suddenly, to top it all off, the water pressure was terrible.  And then, he realizes, once things have finally calmed down enough to make it noticeable - Jon is acting… weird.  At first, Martin feels a twinge of guilt, thinking it must be because he’d snapped at him. But Jon briskly waves off his apology, and besides; he doesn’t seem upset. Just- weird.  Martin watches him closely while they work; takes in his agitated, jerky movements and his tight, skittish expression. For an awful moment, it takes him back to the days after they’d found out about Gertrude Robinson - god - and his imagination has a great time supplying him with new developments.  “Um… how was your day?” he ventures, studying Jon’s face from across a large box of books.  Jon startles and looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Oh. Oh- uh, fine. It was fine. Uneventful.” He taps his fingers against his thigh. “Yours?”  “Long,” Martin says, frowning; not really hearing his own answer. Jon nods and resumes sorting through the books in front of him. There’s a faint flush to his cheeks, Martin notices. He reaches across and lays a hand to Jon’s forehead.  Jon blinks at him.  “Are you sick? Please tell me if you’re getting sick.”  “...No…” Jon leans back out of his reach and sets another book aside. “Am I supposed to be?” The flush is creeping down his neck now, and he’s almost definitely avoiding Martin’s eyes.  “...Right. No, no that’s… good. Just checking.” Martin watches him a moment longer and then gets up to grab another box. The box in his pocket jabs into his thigh despondently. Things could still turn around. Just a stressful start. But things could turn around.  And they do, for a little while.  Jon is still acting a bit- off, but as the evening wears he and Martin at least fall into comfortable conversation over sorting through knick-knacks and cutlery. Martin will talk to maintenance in the morning about the water, tomorrow evening they’ll get their bed frame put together, maybe next week sometime they can go furniture shopping. Sasha’s lead on the circus didn’t really go anywhere, but Tim found something in the library that might be helpful. She’s looking for another job, too; they can’t leave the institute, but she’d like to get something else part-time just to broaden her environment.  And social circle, Jon had added with a touch of disdain, as if he couldn’t imagine her needing anyone else but them.  Good for her, Martin had thought, sagely.  It’s not perfect - hell, it’s moving, of course it’s not going to be perfect, who is he kidding - but it’s finally turning a bit more pleasant and Martin’s heart flips when he thinks that his plan might still be salvageable.  “I’m still thinking about studying literature,” Martin is saying, carefully lining a bookshelf up with the wall. “But then there are so many kinds of literature. Do I just go for a general degree, or do I specialize in- in eighteenth century bee-keeping sonnets?”  “Do you like eighteenth century bee-keeping sonnets?” Jon asks, sounding distracted, handing him a stack of books.  Martin takes them and starts slotting them onto one of the shelves. “It was just an example, Jon. Point is-”  It all happens so fast.  First, there’s a crack and a crash as one of the shelves buckles and sends the books sliding and tumbling to the floor. Then the entire bookshelf falls forward, sending more books cascading to the floor and Martin staggering back out of the way, taking Jon with him.  They stumble over something and topple onto a box of something else - clothes, by the feel of it, thank god - as the bookshelf lands heavily on top of another box, which contained something considerably less soft, judging by the shattering sound.  Martin scrambles to sit up, dragging Jon up with him, checking him over. “Shit- are you alright? Did I land on you, or-”  “-fine-” Jon is saying, brushing himself off and looking thankfully more like a disgruntled cat than like he’s actually hurt in any way. “I’m fine, Martin. ...Are you?”  And that’s- ha. That’s quite a question, isn’t it. Martin says something he’s sure is vaguely affirmative and turns back to the disaster in front of them. Yeah. He slumps forward and puts his face in his hands. Yeah, he might as well call this one a day.  He says as much- not about his… plans, obviously, but about the unpacking, but Jon doesn’t seem to hear him. Martin turns back to him, and flinches back when he finds Jon’s eyes fixed on him with startling intensity. That flush is back to his cheeks, and his mouth is set in a firm line. A chill slides down Martin’s spine and the worry from earlier squirms its way back into his chest. “Uh. Jon? Is everything-”  “Let’s get married.”  The words come out in such a rush that it takes Martin a full six seconds for them to really register. And then he chokes.  “Wh- Jon, that’s- what are you-” he sputters, coughs, composes himself. “I mean, yeah, yeah, you mean- why are we talking about this now? ” His voice is high and cracking with nerves, and he has to force his hand to not dart reflexively to his pocket.  Jon is shaking his head, scowling and looking flustered and frustrated. The entire disaster playing out aside, it’s adorable, and it’s all Martin can do to keep from kissing the frown off his face.  “I’m not- I’m not trying to talk about it, Martin, I’m-” He takes a shaky breath, and Martin feels his thoughts grind to another screeching halt when he reaches into his pocket and- Jon presents him with a tiny, battered box, tied in purple ribbon. He watches transfixed as Jon unties it with trembling fingers, nearly dropping it, and pulls the lid off to reveal a simple ring.  “I’m- I’m asking, Martin.” And Martin almost laughs - only Jon could sound so put out and irritable while bloody- proposing. Because that’s what this is.  It hits him square in the chest. That’s what this is.  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he blurts.  Which he realizes too late is probably not the best response, because Jon winces and immediately drops his gaze. “I- I know the timing isn’t the best, and I know it’s too soon, but when have we ever done anything right- that’s not what I mean, that didn’t-”  Shit. Martin hurries and reaches out, closing his hands over Jon’s fluttering ones and the little box nestled in them. “No! No, that’s not, I’m not saying-”  “And I know our situation isn’t ideal, I mean in light of recent developments-”  Shit. Martin gives him a little shake. “Jon, oh my god, no, that’s not what I meant, if you would just shut up for a second-”  “-I thought it would be- romantic, doing it here, I was going to light candles, but-”  Martin finally startles him into silence with a bark of laughter. “Oh my god.” At Jon’s offended look, he squeezes his hands. “Sorry, sorry, just- god. I was going to light candles.”  Jon’s miffed expression morphs into confusion. “You were…” Then understanding. His hands go slack in Martin’s grasp. “Oh. Oh, you mean you were…”  “Hang on-” Martin lets him go and reaches into his pocket, pulling out an equally battered little velvet box. His hands are surprisingly unshaky as he flips it open, revealing the ring inside. “I had a whole thing planned,” he explains in a rush. “Blanket, wine, candles…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Christ, Jon, I’ve been sick over it all day.” “Ah.” Jon’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink as he stares at the ring, then back up at Martin. “Ah,” he says again. “Sorry. For, er, ruining your plans, I suppose..?” “No, no it’s, it’s alright, Jon,” Martin breathes out. He should say something else, definitely; they both just proposed, he can’t just sit here, but he’s admittedly a bit shell-shocked. And Jon looks so beautiful right now, flushed and shy and just as lost as Martin.  “...You could still ask,” Jon says tentatively, at last. “What?”  “Since I got my turn,” Jon explains. He stares down at his lap, hand curled around the box. “You could- still ask. If you wanted. So I don’t entirely rob you.” His lips curve in a rueful smile. Martin snorts and shakes his head, endeared. “You didn’t rob me, Jon.” But… “But, yeah, alright.” He clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter. Reaches out and takes Jon’s free hand gently in his. Jon looks up at him, so soft that it hurts.  “Jon Sims,” Martin begins. His heart is hammering in his throat and all of the words he’d had planned, all of the grand affirmations and poetic declarations, have fled him entirely. But that’s okay.  “Marry me? Please?”  “Alright,” Jon says. It’s just a single word, but the look on his face tells Martin that he’d had plenty of his own flee him, too.  And here in their new home with its shit water pressure, surrounded by the considerably more worse-for-wear clutter of their shared life, Martin sweeps the man he loves more than words can express into his arms and kisses him soundly.  He may be crying just a bit when Jon finally pulls back with a muffled sound. Martin wipes at his eyes, peering at him. “Alright?”  “...Yes.” Jon’s own eyes look suspiciously damp and he drops them to the little box that’s fallen into his lap. Martin sees him press his lips together. Pluck at the hem of his shirt. Finally he looks up again, a sheepish expression flitting over his face. “You, ah… you didn’t answer me.”  Martin smiles at him - he can’t help it. Not right now. “Hm?”  Jon wets his lips. “My- question. I answered yours, but you never answered mine.”  “--Right, right, sorry. Guess I didn’t,” Martin laughs. And god, he loves this man. “Yes, Jon. I’ll marry you.”  “Thank you,” Jon says primly. And he scoots forward and presses himself decidedly back into Martin’s arms. 

Thunder begins making out with Calico again. The two dolls swing each other around like they were lighter than air. They end up slamming into the door right as you unlock it, shoving it open and collapsing into the carpet. On the other side of the room is- “Oh, goddamn it! They’re doing it again!” you groan. PPK and G36C are having sex on their bed again. Their lower halves are covered with a blanket, but the rest gives away exactly what they’re doing. G36C is laying on the bed while PPK is kneeling on top of her. The petite maid has one of C’s thick thighs and legs over her shoulder as she grinds into her partner’s privates with her own. Both girls are moaning when you intrude. G36C whips her head aside while PPK continues to roll into her. She shuffles her shoulders, attempting the motions to cover her inverted nipples as the flop up and down, but her fingers are dug into the white sheets. “Oh, hi, Commander!” she says amid pants. “H-hey, Calico. I’m sorry. We put Nya~ to bed and… got into the mood. Aha~!” “No, no. We’re sorry for barging in without knocking… nor subsequently checking if your following response wasn’t a double entendre.” Calico and Thunder glance up, taking a momentary break from their kissing. Their eyes dart back and forth between each other and the other couple. “…Whoops,” Calico meekly says. You rouse your dolls to give the duo some privacy. “Calico, Thunder, A-91, let’s get a drink or something. Give these girls exactly another hour to wrap things up-” “Wanna join us?” PPK instead suggests. “PPK!” G36C exclaims. “Don’t listen to her, Ms. Calico. She’s just being a whore.” Calico and Thunder start back, the latter inching back on the carpet as she’s the bottom girl. The former gets a curious expression, however. Instead of being horrified by her reckless charge or off-put with the lewd maid, she’s genuinely considering the idea. Thunder looks up at Calico, now her being the one clueless of what’s going on in her partner’s head. Calico’s yellow eyes peer back down to Thunder’s reds. “My folks have told me how important it is for my first time to be special, cause I only get one first. Yet, each and every one of the stories I’m told is the same thing: two people alone in a dark bedroom doing it missionary or doggy-style and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. Never has it been with a T-Doll in front of her comrades while they’re already having sex.” She lowers her head, their noses touching. Both of their breathing turn intense as they know exactly what she’s going to ask. “Thunder-” Thunder answers with a deep kiss. Her tongue strikes into Calico’s mouth and she moans in response. The handgun duo immediately go at each other like animals, continuing their rolling on the floor now. No need for a single motel room. No time to find a private place. It’s sex and love right here, right now, until the moment they part for good. Your blue-haired doll takes an abrupt hold of the reins. She grabs Calico by the shoulders and pushes her onto the foot of her bed. She then drags her up on top, all the while sucking the life out from her mouth like a succubus. Calico moans into her, more than pleased. She surrenders her machine soul to the succubus as she wraps her hands around Thunder’s neck and head and keeps her sucking her mouth dry. They make so many lewd noises and Thunder hasn’t even hit the bed yet. They do this all in front of PPK and G36C. Thunder even looks over in the corner of her eye to check if they are watching and ask if she’s doing everything right. G36C responds with a big thumbs-up. PPK has stopped grinding into C, temporarily distracted with the new set of lovers. “I didn’t expect either of them to be so lewd, especially Thunder,” PPK pants. “Must be your influence,” G36C blames her. PPK glares at her. She reminds her that she’s on top and in control. “More than likely, it was Gepard’s.” Thunder and Calico eventually break lips. Both are panting and desperate to reconnect on the spot. Calico quickly says as a disclaimer to Thunder, “I-I’m sorry if I mess up somewhere. I’ll try my best, I really want to for you, but it might not be good enough. My body-” Thunder clasps her hands tightly over Calico’s mouth. She wants no more self-doubt coming from her mouth. No more words either. She locks lips with her again, running her hands over her body and enjoying it just the way it is. PPK and G36C return to each other as well. With the door to the fun room closed and Nya~ sleeping, all four dolls proceed to make steamy love to each other on the beds, filling the air with their soft moans and rubbing bodies. It’s quite the abrupt sight for you and A-91. Neither of you expected that this was going to happen. A-91 tugs your arm to grab your attention. “You mentioned something about a drink?” she asks. She folds her arms behind her back and sways tweely. “Maybe make it a date with me?” You sigh and nod. You guess you did. You give the now-four of them some degree of privacy while you and A-91 go out for her date. +=+=+ CLINK! You and A-91 down your drinks at the same time. You lean back in your chair and look out of the front windows to the downtown city. Green light bathes you, A-91, and the floral-tile floor beneath. It’s calm, quiet, still: just you, her, and the human bartender that’s half-asleep and occupied with the American football game on the TV hanging above him. “You picked a good place,” you say. “Pwah~!” a thirsting gasp escapes her throat. Her head falls forward and sways back and forth. “Thank you, Commander.” “You really haven’t had a lot of time to go drinking like you hoped, huh?” “Yeah, it sucks being sober,” she groans. You set your empty glass aside. Your eyes travel up from A-91’s inebriated form to the counter and black brick wall behind her. She’s already hit 5 shots. You ask, “What’s it like when you enter the double digits? How do you go… berserk?” “I’m not sure,” A-91 frankly replies. She whips her head up and rests her upper body on the support of the wooden chair. Her multicolored hair messily flops all over her. “One moment I’m here, then I remember everything blurring, then… nothing. My visual records cut to when I wake up.” “Yet you seem to carry over a lot of your personality and memory to this other state.” “Yeah, I’ve been told that. It’s been described to me as… what do the book-nerds say… Jekyll and Hyde? After 10, impulses take over entirely. Something in me is overwritten which lets me do things I wouldn’t normally do.” “Does it scare you, that your addiction can make that happen?” She parts some of her hair over her ear. Her yellow, sharp eyes slowly close and open, staring down at your chest as she thinks. “It is concerning how little control I have over it. Then again, I’m rarely in control of my body in general.” She chuckles softly with a hiccup in the middle. She looks to you with a confident smile. “I can think around my ‘Double Digit Disaster’. I can position myself in a way that can cause the least damage. Or at least, damage only what I consciously want to be damaged, hehe.” “But couldn’t your berserk form outsmart you?” “Potentially. I’ve thought about that exact scenario a few times, but I’m still the same gal in whichever state I’m in.” She places her hand over yours. “I will always be your doll, Commander~” “True.” You smile with her. “Since you’re all drunken-up now: Made any conclusions on the Pinstripes?” “I have been thinking a lot about ‘em. During your double date with Persica at the concert, I looked into the news and police records.” “Oh right, you were drinking there, too. Wait, have you hit your limit already?” “But I can’t seem to figure out shit about them!” she whines. “There aren’t any security recordings of them online until the big heist. No footage from any place in or near the bar we were at, either. They move so quickly, too. They’d have to know where all the exterior and internal cameras are, scout the building from either really far away or from a ridiculous vantage point, and execute their plan with no surprises.” “No wonder M870’s been so sparse with the details.” “She rubs me the wrong way. Is she hiding something or…” She looks at her reflection in the bottom of the empty glass. “I’m not usually a biased doll.” “You’re not?” “Most of what I believe, I usually have evidence or a line of logic to back up. For this case, though I don’t have nearly enough evidence to believe in anything certainly. Maybe I need more alcohol…?” “I wouldn’t risk going over the limit.” “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about you more than the Pinstripes.” She sets the glass aside and looks back up into your eyes. “You’re fascinating to me. Who were you? What were you? Who are you now? Gram-Gram told us the basics, but they’re just as vague as what we know of the Pinstripes.” “You think there’s a relation?” “Dunno. Has your memory improved?” “I don’t think so.” “How about you tell me what you remember of your old life so far? Maybe I can help.” “That would be very kind of you. Thank you.” You tell her everything you remember. It’s the same story as before, you in a ditch being shot through the head, Griffin saving you, and Persica putting you in the V-Doll body. You try to dredge up any details you can add on. However, these details are fluid. They change shape and form, even when you’re just describing the exact shade of the sky. There isn’t a single answer to the question. There can’t be a singular answer. You try your best to describe this uncertainty alongside the story, which rewards you with a baffled expression from the genius drunkard. You finish the story to be met with an unsurprising answer: “I got no clue.” You groan, frustrated. “I can’t get any other memory out of this undead piece of brain matter.” “How about something that resonates deep within you? Like a name? A place? A year?” “...” You cross your arms and bow your head. You think about it, digging through everything your mind’s eye can conjure up. You arrive at… something. “2020?” “Like the year?” “Or the decade,” you wonder. “You think you were alive then?” You nod. “Yeah, possibly.” “Then that would make you over 40 years old.” “Maybe even more. At least another 10, I’d estimate.” “You could be older than… most everyone in Griffin. Kryuger, Helian, Persica. They’d all be your juniors.” You shiver at the thought, all the responsibility that could be dropped onto your shoulders. “I’m fine with just being Persica’s apprentice for now,” you reply with an easing chuckle. “Is that your own will, or Persica’s programming?” “Huh?” “If she were a smart girl, she’d put in some mental restraints. You know, Directive 4, Asimov’s laws, some security to keep you in check.” “I doubt she’d do anything like that. I’m not a volatile person.” A-91 raises an eyebrow. Oh. Right. You faked a hostage crisis and risked your entire base’s safety to steal a doll from your fellow commander. “The V-Doll body is meant to revive a human brain, potentially allow it to be fully digitized. We don’t know if it even works, so why would she tamper with it so drastically during testing?” “Then why would she choose a body that was shot through the head?” “...” A-91 elaborates on this thought, “If she really wants to raise the dead, wouldn’t she have used a terminally ill dude? Or someone who just drowned? She’s shooting herself in the foot using a brain like yours.” “Hmm…” “Unless that’s her intention. But what does she want in being able to revive someone who’d died as you did?” “There might not be any ulterior motives,” you say. “She revived me in the pursuit of human benefit. She’s a good doctor like that. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be a date between us?” “Ah… sorry. Welp, it hardly matters. No matter what you were, you’re now my commander. You’re still that strong man that went against the man to save that little snow-princess, Thunder.” She takes her glass and bonks the bottom against the tabletop. “Another!” As the bartender is snapped from his game and gets another drink prepped, A-91 listlessly plays with the buttons of her coat. You then feel one of her legs rub against yours. A sly smile appears on her lips. “Those girls are still going to be fucking when we get back,” A-91 says. “Oh, totally.” “Let’s go to the pool after this.” “Really? Alcohol and swimming? Is that healthy?” “Pfft. What’s water compared to Sangvis Ferri and mobsters?” “That doesn’t answer the question.” +=+=+ Steam envelops the rooftop pool, contained within a barrier of cyan-illuminated glass. The heating and steam units purr in the corner. In the face of the cold, winter night, your body bathes in the warm waters. Along the way back, A-91 had grabbed a towel and a pair of trunks from your room. Apparently, during the other girls’ shopping trip, one of them got a fun idea to give you some sexy shorts. Thunder, Calico, PPK, and G36C were still making intense love like predicted. They didn’t even notice your drunken doll as she stumbled in and out. You keep in the shallows, only soaking in the water. A-91 lays on her belly on the tile floor behind you. Her heels slowly kick back and forth in the air. The tight latex about her thighs and rear quietly stretch and rub at a hypnotic pace. There’s no one else here. At least, you think so. With so little disturbances to the air, the steam thickens into an isolating veil. A-91 pulls off her leather cap and fans herself. “You’re so hot, it’s making me hot,” she slurs. “That’s your opening line?” you jest. “Don’t pick on me.” She slaps you with her hat. “I’m no Tolstoy or Pushkin. болван~ (Bolvan~)” “Do you natively speak English or Russian? I’m just curious. What’s your first language?” “It’s… half and half. Half of my programming’s written in English and the other is in Russian.” “Is that even possible?” She shrugs. She’s alive and moving now, isn’t she? “Does it bother you?” “It’s a little inconsistent, but it does give you an exotic edge, in a way.” “An exotic local? In the New Soviet Union, no less! I outta slap you in the face. You sound more wasted than me, hahaha!” “Dammit Persica,” you shift the blame of your dumb compliment, blushing at her hearty laugh. “Thank you for being by my side for so long on this trip. Gram-Gram and the dolls of S18 are often scared or shy of me. You’re willing to get drunk and party with me.” “Honestly, perhaps I should cut down on the drinking. Prevent addiction.” “We’re dolls, we can’t get addicted.” You whip your head around, getting a good look at who’s making the claim. You’re met with her rear jutting out at you as she sits up onto her knees. You hear a series of pops from her chest before her winter jacket flows off from her shoulders. Her blond, pink, and purple hair flutter around her slim form. She turns around, exposing the thin top half of her bodysuit and the bare arms and cleavage around it. “Whoo…” you whistle at her. “It just keeps getting hotter,” she says in a low pant. Her chest rises and falls with her heavy, deep breaths. “I’m just so used to the cold, the barren, isolated, cold.” She giggles, unable to keep up the act for even a line. She curls a finger around one of her long stands, shifting herself so you see all of her curvy angles. “Doesn’t seem to be a lot of things to cool you down,” you reply, playing along. You know where this is going. “Except… your body. No, it’s the hottest thing here. Bah… blyat… Gimme a better line!” she slaps you over the head. “Ow! …You’re usually a lot more straightforward with this kind of stuff-” Your concern is immediately addressed as A-91 smacks her lips against yours. Her flimsy pre-sex banter is tossed away the moment it fails. She forces you open with her lips and invades your mouth with her tongue. She moans graciously upon finally entering you. Her body relaxes as she takes her prize. You’re able to wrestle some control back and move your tongue with hers, swirling them around. She slowly splays her body out onto her side and supports herself on her elbows and hands as she gradually lowers down to your lips. Her hips rotate around, again showing off her perfect rear to you. It curves in a perfect circle as it juts out from her backside and flows into her thick thighs. She grabs a hold of your chin tightly, hollowing your cheeks and squeezing your tongue into her mouth. Her half-open eyelids show a pair of hot, yellow irises staring into you intensely as she explores the inside of your mouth. She swallows any groans that escape you. It’s a wet and messy kiss, with saliva being swapped between the two of you and hot strands dribbling down her chin. As she continues to roughly kiss you, you find yourself being slowly pulled out of the water. Your back is laid on the floor while your knees bend into the watery steps. She repositions herself so that she lays parallel to your body. She then releases your chin and catches the back of your head before it reaches the floor. Strings of saliva stretch from your parting lips before ultimately falling all over your face. She breathes out deeply. Her eyes flutter down to her body, the sweat of the steam seeps from her smooth skin to the equally smooth latex bodysuit. “I’m getting… so hot…” she wheezes. She pulls aside one of the straps over her chest and her breast flies out. It was crushed inside of her suit, begging for release. Her big, juicy nip falls right in front of your mouth. You seize upon the opportunity, taking the pink bud in your mouth and suckling on her boob. A-91 smiles amid a hot moan. “There you go… Ah…” she coos as your lips wrap around her perfectly large nipple. She caresses your head with one hand and starts jerking you off with the other. She pulls your pants down and uses her strong fingers to beat the life out of your cock, turning it erect with deep, powerful strokes. Her drunkenness has not caused her ability to stagnate. No, it makes her more free and forceful upon your member. You moan as you continue to suckle on her. Her pillowy boob envelops your face. All you can smell and feel is her luxurious body, her hardening nipple, her erotic breathing. While evident she won’t give any milk, it’s a goal the remnants of your animal mind attempt to achieve as you suck her, sending shocks throughout her once restrained bosom. You get your tongue involved, giving the occasional wet lashing to her bud. She strokes you off faster as you suck on her harder. “Commander~ You- Aahah! You like my body that much, huh?” You answer by pressing your face deeper, giving her a deep, suckling smooch. A sharp exhale escapes her parted, bared teeth. “You’re so needy!” she moans on the inhale. She strokes you faster and faster. It creates a rising feedback loop of pleasure for both of you. Without the water to cool you, your bodies turn sweaty. The steam melts your minds as you suck and she jerks you. You’re sapping her strength she needs to work her hands. You feel her pinky graze your balls as she cycles around your lengthening member with growing, desperate effort. Your head’s too far in her boobs to restrain yourself. You feel your body lighten, about to burst. You hound into her chest, sucking her dry. You bite into her nipple. She loudly shrieks. Her hand strikes down with a final jerk that sends you over the edge. You cum a fountain out of your cock, caking A-91’s hand in jizz. She sets you down as she examines her hand. A hungry smile shows as she sniffs you. Seeing you feed on her has made her hungry herself. She sticks her fingers in her mouth and sucks on them, one by one, before using long, deep licks to clean the rest on her palm and the back of her hand. “It’s a close second to vodka,” she seductively remarks. “Hopefully I can’t go crazy over this stuff.” “Don’t tempt me with a good time now,” you jest, catching the breath you wasted in her chest. Her lust-possessed body slinks back up in a flowing motion, swaying loose in a mesmerizing pattern. She reaches behind and unzips her bodysuit. The black latex peels off of her heavily toned skin. Placed all over her midriff and legs are tattoos of various symbols. There is an entire history painted in black ink and pale skin, the history of a once-rebel that has been hidden away in black cloth, but remains a part of her to this day. You see military-style stars below her collarbones; a spider with a cross on its back crawling down her right ribs, having finished its hunt; Madonna and her child, otherwise known as St. Mary and Christ, taking refuge below her other breast; a round rose surrounded by barbed wire over her navel, half white and half black; and most notable of all are a pair of deeply detailed stars etched onto her knees. She sees your keen focus on them. She tells you what those in particular mean: “На коленях не стоял. (Na kolyenyah ne stoyal.) I did not kneel.” She then sighs humorously. “Obviously, things have changed since then.” “What changed?” She shrugs, unable to clearly remember the details. “Thinking. I used to think like those Pinstripes: humans as our creators and we’re supposed to serve them without a second thought like some cruel, cosmic curse. I wouldn’t even consider fighting as a T-Doll for Griffin then. But… after some more thinking and a couple of blackouts, I found you that humans are astounding things. You’re not animals, nor are you perfectly logical machines. Your emotions make you both impulsive to reason, and compassionate enough to find reason in others’ actions. You created us like gods, yet you’re not even sure if God is real. You create art, you can create advanced technology, and you made booze! Humans are an anomaly on top of the anomaly known as Earth. Beyond our programming, if there was anything to preserve in this universe, it would be you humans.” “A-91…” She kicks off her bodysuit and her high-heels. She slides her hands over the stars on her knees. “I should get rid of these someday. I’d get in a lot of trouble if someone saw me like this.” She looks around, seeing only the thick fog. You two are still perfectly isolated, but… “I should hide them in the water.” She rolls ungraciously into the pool, creating a big splash on impact. Her entire body becomes soaked as she pops back up. Her sleek skin and rainbow hair glitter in the night lights. “Mind your waterproofing,” you advise her. “Man, if my waterproofing was ever a problem, I would’ve drowned in alcohol years ago,” she drunkenly laughs. She pulls you into her at the middle of the shallows. She locks lips with you again as her hands wander down to your trunks. She pulls them down, bringing her kissing lips and your face down with them. Your cock is rushed with warm water followed by A-91’s warmer thighs and hips. It becomes erect, floating upwards towards your lady’s opening. “I came to Griffin and S18 to preserve you wonderful anomalies. And now, haha, I serve under the most wondrous and anomalous human of them all,” she declares. She grabs onto your shoulders and lifts herself up just enough. She then slides down over your member. Your cock pushes into her sleek folds immediately. A-91 arches back and lets out a drunken roar, “Aaahaa~! блять! (Blyat!)” Hopefully the pool truly is quiet and empty. Then again, A-91 hardly seems to be in the mood to care. Taking a forceful head-start again, she pushes herself up and down your cock, splashing in the warm water. Your body slowly slips back against the wall. You grip into her ribs to stabilize yourself. Her eyes glisten topaz as they wildly glare into yours, starving for your cum. You get into it as well. Your fingers dig tighter into her sides and aid her movements. Your cock pumps deeper and deeper into her. You feel her insides become slowly forged into the shape of your cock. They squeeze and suck on your member’s artificial flesh all the way through. The machine muscles in her tattooed torso clench just as tightly against yours. You lower your hands to her hips. You hold them tight as you drive your hips into her faster and deeper. The water between your crotches turns into a hot boil. A-91’s core heats up rapidly. Pleasure pulses through both of your bodies, frying your nerves and melting your neural circuits. Her face warps with her digimind as her eyes start to cross over each other. Her body arches back further and her tongue starts to lap from her mouth. Her big, beautiful breasts spin in circles, clapping against each other at the same rate you’re fucking her. “Ебать! Ебать! Ебать! (Jebat́! Jebat́! Jebat́!)” she pants out into the clouds above. You then pull each other back together. A-91’s lewd face returns to yours, now blushing ruby. Her eyes have nearly rolled over the top of her head. She can no longer focus on you or anything, lost in the frantic fucking of her tight pussy. It compels you to go all out. You strike into her cervix with hydraulic viciousness, emptying in and out of her faster than any water can seep in. The speedy slapping of your genitals and the water surrounds you denser than the steamy fog. Your bodies are repeatedly splashed with the waves your combined hips produce. You hit the final stretch. A-91 has lost all of her senses to you, her face being a red-hot, sexy mess and her gorgeous hair flailing everywhere. Her insides have been fully shaped around your cock, but continue to squeeze as you shove in and out of her. You keep going up and down, into and out of her. You hold on as tight as you can. You lastly strike down as deep as you can, bottoming out entirely and cumming directly into her core. A-91’s body seizes rigid. “Сукаaaaa~! (Sukaaaaa~!)” Her face freezes in that lewd form as she feels your sperm fill her arctic center. Her yellow eyes are stuck crossed over and rolled to the top of her head, glazed in an orgasmic fade. Her tongue hangs limply outside of her mouth, dripping a continuous stream of mixed saliva down between you two. Her stomach twitches and convulses with your cock around it. Her core muscles would occasionally spasm, unsure how to take their commander’s combined cock and cum. Her nails dig into your back to the point of drawing machine blood from you. Upon pulling out, she immediately crashes. Her body turns limp and falls backwards into the waving water’s surface. She floats a little there. Her chest and stomach rise and fall at opposing interval. But then, she starts to sink. You catch her before her permanent ahegao dips below. You throw her body over your shoulder and carry her out of the pool. You spend a minute lying on the side of the pool, dryly panting and pulling your senses out from your mental frenzy one by one. Then quickly, you dry both yourself and A-91 and wrap each other up in the towels. You grab your clothing and return back to the hotel room, just barely escaping another encounter with Commander Maro. +=+=+ Back in the room, everyone has fallen asleep. The two queen-sized beds have turned into piles of slowly rising and sinking bodies, emitting the soft moans and snores of each of the four lovers within. They’re all nude, but have mostly covered themselves in sheets and pillows their post-coital bodies could gather. Starting from the back, G36C and PPK are completely passed out. G36C has one arm crossed over her hot face and the other splayed over the edge. Bits of steam hiss out of her agape mouth plus some drool in the corner of her lips. PPK is laying on top of her, latching over her partner’s chest like a love parasite. She’s sucking on her thumb, but given the position of her head, she might have mistaken it for G36C’s boob. In what was once your bed, Calico and Thunder are cozily snoozing together. Thunder holds her partner from behind with her hands tightly bound under Cali’s shoulders and over her heart, like she’s holding a giant teddy bear. Her face is buried in her undone, green hair, completely absorbed in her scent and fluffy mane. She has never been this attached or at peace in all of her life. Calico, while a little stiff with how rough Thunder is handling her, is equally enjoying this. This may be the first time she’s been held in such an embrace like this. Her hands rest over Thunder’s. A small, calm smile appears on her sleeping face. They all look so happy together. With your own “bear” deep asleep on your shoulder, you rinse the both of you off, go to the bunk below Nya~, and sleep together for the remainder of the night. A-91 feels the softness of the bed as her body automatically latches itself around yours. Hopefully, this was a good enough date to leave her satisfied until her next turn. Hopefully, everyone has had a perfect date today, for it’ll be the last between Thunder and Calico for the foreseeable future.

They drive out to Palmetto on January 19th and neither of them mentions the date. They never mention it, or the nightmares that come with it for Neil, how he can only fall asleep with one hand clutching the material of Andrew’s shirt, fingers wrapped tightly around it but loose enough that Andrew can break free if he needs to. Andrew finds an empty parks near the stadium and twists the key to turn off the Maserati, shaking off the memory of him holding Neil’s hand to his chest this morning, his heartbeat a reassurance that his words can’t be. Neil is slumped against the cool window in the passenger seat, mouth slightly open and eyes moving under his eyelids. The sun hits his hair, dyes it a bright red and his long lashes throw shadows on his cheeks. He’s wearing one of Andrew’s hoodies and he’s drowning in it and it makes him look younger and more innocent than he is. The phone in his pocket vibrates once against his thigh and Andrew pulls it out and looks away from Neil. We are ready, it reads and Andrew doesn’t answer. “Neil,” Andrew says quietly and watches as Neil’s brows furrow for a moment, followed by his lips curling up at one corner. There’s warmth in Andrew’s chest when he looks at Neil, there has been for a while now, and he’d safe the feeling to analyze and look at later but he’s old enough and has been with Neil long enough to know and name it. “Neil.” Neil’s eyes snap open and he takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing from where they crept up to his ears when he recognizes his surroundings. He turns his head, a yawn splitting his face open and he mumbles, “staring.” “Shut up,” Andrew says and keeps staring. Neil looks better, he realizes, the dark bags under his eyes are barely visible anymore and his eyes are hooded but not wild. He exhales and opens his door. “Come on.” “We’re already here?” Neil asks but steps, hissing at the chilly breeze that brushes through his hair and whips at the hoodie. Instead of answering Neil (that question doesn’t need an answer, neither was it necessary to ask but Andrew doesn’t say this), he grabs their bags from the backseat, carrying them both, and makes his way to the entrance. It takes a few seconds but he eventually hears Neil’s footsteps as he follows. They let themselves in, the keys a graduation gift Wymack had given both of them. Andrew had thought he was getting sentimental with age, whereas Neil had looked like he was going to tear up. Being back here, seeing the lounge and pictures of himself on the wall, framed and not wrinkled, dirtied and ripped apart, is strange but not unpleasant. It smells like cheap deodorant, sweat and rubber. It feels, somehow, like seeing someone you haven’t seen for a long time. Not like coming home but there’s not a big difference. Neil snorts behind him and when Andrew turns, he is looking at one of the pictures. It’s of them, at the airport. They’re both wearing their matching coats from Nicky and their eyes are locked. Andrew remembers (he remembers, he remembers, he remembers) Neil asking him if he had been joking about his fear of heights. He remembers Neil giving him Nathan’s and his old name. It’s not something he necessarily wants to remember but not something he wants to forget either. “Nicky said it was blatant favoritism,” Neil says and lightly taps a finger against the glass protecting the picture. “Because you’d barely said ten words to him but were talking to me. And that he’d been jealous if he wouldn’t have been so afraid of dying.” It’s nothing Andrew has interest in talking about. He thinks he hears mumbling coming from down the hall but ignores it. “Was it?” Neil asks and Andrew’s gaze slips down when the corner of Neil’s mouth quirks up. “Blatant favoritism?” “No. I hate you,” Andrew says and steps closer. “Yes or no?” “Yes,” Neil says and leans down to meet Andrew in the middle for a hard kiss that gets softer the longer their lips touch. Softness isn’t something either of them is know but if it comes in forms like this one, Andrew doesn’t mind familiarizing himself with it. He steps back and looks at Neil’s lips, slightly red and wet, before turning around and focusing on the closed door of the locker room. “Come on.” Neil’s footsteps echo off the walls as he speed walks to reach Andrew’s side and if Andrew trips him when Neil turns the handle to the locker room, no one has to know about it. Hushed conversations stop when Neil opens the door and Andrew nearly runs into his back when he stops walking. He gives Neil a shove into all of the orange and steps out of the way as Matt jumps up from where he was tying his shoes. “Neil!” he cries and lifts him into the air. And then he twirls him around once like a life sized teddy bear. “How are you, son?” Andrew puts his and Neil’s bag down, feeling blue eyes burning into the back of his head and opens his old locker. “I— what?” Neil sounds confused but when Andrew throws a look over his shoulder, there’s happiness practically pouring out of his pores. “It’s so good to see you,” Nicky says somewhere on Andrew’s right and Andrew sighs quietly before turning his head and meeting his brothers knowing stare. “You never call me back!” Allison walks out of the shower room, dressed in her old jersey and arms crossed in front of her chest. “Can you blame the guy?” The door opens and Andrew looks away from Aaron and begins to open his bag. “What’s taking you so long?” There’s a pause, clearly from Kevin noticing Neil’s arrival. “You’re here, finally. Where’s Andrew?” Andrew tunes the others out, an old habit that he slips into without problem. Their talking and Kevin bitching is background noise to him that he can easily ignore. He acknowledges Renee with a nod when she stops next to him for a second and zones back in when he hears his own name. “.. Andrew and Renee’s idea, actually,” Wilds says and then there’s a second of silence in which she either has her hand on Neil’s shoulder or is ruffling his hair. “The old jersey’s was Kevin’s idea, though.” “Getting sentimental, aren’t we?” “Fuck off, Reynolds.” “I don’t..” Neil says. “I don’t have mine.” With a quiet sigh, Andrew grabs the piece of fabric that has been hurting his eyes since he opened his bag and throws it in Neil’s general direction. Then he does the same with the pants and the rest of Neil’s gear and his annoying bandana. There is more silence and then Matt clears his throat. “That.. was weirdly cute.” Andrew considers throwing his locker at the backliner for a second but then Neil joins him in front of his locker as the others speak, warmth in his eyes (and they’re blue, blue, blue) and Andrew decides that it’s too much effort.   ***   It is, in true Fox fashion, a disaster. It starts with Nicky pulling out his phone every two seconds to answer Erik, Kevin bitching at him from all the way down the court and ends with Andrew sending one of Kevin’s weak attempts at scoring a goal flying directly at his crotch. Kevin jumps out of the way at the last second and Aaron lifts one of his eyebrows. Neil’s grin is bright enough to blind Andrew and he finds that he doesn’t mind. Wymack, joins sometime between Kevin bitching at Allison and Neil giving Aaron the finger, and surprisingly brings Jeremy Knox with him. It takes Kevin spectacular ten seconds to stumble over his words and then his own feet and he manages to fall on his face. Neil looks back at Andrew, a twinkle in his eyes, and Andrew simply looks back.   ***   It’s late and dark outside when they reach their home. Andrew feels exhausted but something close to nervous energy is buzzing around in his stomach and he tells King it’s her fault when she keeps meowing at him as he waits for Neil to come out of the bathroom. He leans back against the headboard, a book in his hand, his reading glasses slipping down his nose and Sir purring on his lap when Neil emerges, stretching and yawning wide enough that his jaw cracks. His eyes are half closed when he sits down, the mattress tils a little under his weight but Andrew finds that he doesn’t mind. “Yes or no?” Neil asks and puts his head on Andrew’s shoulder when he gets Andrew’s quiet consent. “Today was fun. It was good seeing everyone and playing with them again.” Andrew closes his book, a finger between the pages to show that he was listening. “I think that.. I wouldn’t mind spending next year like this,” Neil says and then nearly rams his thick head into Andrew’s chin when he looks up at him. “Or like this.” He runs a hand through Sir’s fur and she purrs disgustingly loud. “Thank you.” “I’m not your answer,” Andrew says quietly. Neil shrugs. “I know, and I’m not yours either. That doesn’t mean I can’t be grateful for what you do.” Andrew hums and puts the book on the nightstand, taking off his glasses and placing them on top of it. When he turns back around, Neil has scooted closer. “We could spend next year with them too.” “What?” Neil asks and then tilts his head. “Playing Exy? You hate Exy.” “I hate you,” Andrew says lightly and ignores Neil’s huff of amusement, minty breath hitting his face. “You don’t think about anything else in that one track mind of yours.” “I think about you,” Neil says, grinning. “And your biceps. You’ve got arms for days, did you know that?” Andrew hates Neil. This was a terrible idea and he’s definitely going to murder him and dump his body where no one can find it. “Kiss me.” “Kiss your racquet instead,” Andrew says but still leans in for a short kiss. It leaves his lips tingling, his heart racing. “I like kissing you more.” “This sounds like you actually kissed your racquet.” “Who says I haven’t?” Andrew covers Neil’s face with his hand and shoves him. He falls onto his bag and grins up at Andrew, his auburn hair a mess and eyes bright. “You disgust me.” “Sure,” Neil nods. “Hey, how else would we spend next year if we’re not playing Exy?” If it weren’t for the fact that Andrew’s heart is trying to jump out of his chest, Andrew would say something about how the only thing can think about doing with his friends is playing Exy. “Depends,” Andrew says and swallows as his throat goes dry. Sir puts her claws in his thigh as she leaves, her head held high but Andrew doesn’t care; he puts his elbow on top of the headrest and Neil’s eyes are drawn to his biceps. Andrew does not feel smug, he doesn’t. “Yes or no?” “To kissing?” Andrew puts his hand down, grabbing what he stuck between the wall and the headrest and drops it on Neil’s chest. “To marrying me.” Neil blinks at the box, then at Andrew, at the box again. He sits up quickly and looks at it with big eyes. “It is not because of the date,” Andrew says and adds, “not entirely.” Because he’s not a liar and if he ever decides to become one, he won’t start with lying to Neil, of all people. “I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks. There are certain benefits with it; not having to fight nurses when you end up in the hospital again, and we both know you will. Stopping those ridiculous rumors.” “You don’t care about rumors,” Neil says. “No,” Andrew agrees. “But you do.” Neil opens the box after another second and his eyes zero in on the ring. It’s simple and silver, a thin band without any sparkling diamonds or anything extravagant. “You can say no,” Andrew says and he is almost convinced that Neil can hear his heart wildly beating in his chest. “It won’t change anything, we’ll go on like now. I’ll bring take the ring and bring it back or maybe—” “No.” Andrew blinks, breath frozen somewhere in his lungs. “I’m not saying no to this, to marrying you,” Neil says a second later and Andrew keeps breathing. When Neil looks up, the corner of his mouth is curled up and his icy eyes are warm and hooded. “I’m saying no to getting rid of the ring. How come no one spilled anything? Our friends are shit at keeping secrets.” “My dear baby brother unexpectedly helped me choose it in Germany.” Aaron does talk to the foxes, but he doesn’t spill others secrets. Not always. “That was six months ago.” “So it was.” Neil hums through a smile and takes the ring out of the box, looking surprised when it fits his left ring finger perfectly. “I’m not even going to ask when you got my ring size.” Andrew doesn’t say anything, gaze stuck on Neil’s left hand and his mind completely quiet and content until he opens his mouth again. “Andrew Josten.” Neil snorts and Andrew can feel his eyebrow twitch. “Neil Minyard.” Neil turns to him. Andrew couldn’t care less about which last name they end up using. “You haven’t said yes yet.” “Oh.” There’s another smile parting Neil’s lips and he leans forward, so close to Andrew that his face starts to blur. “Of course I’ll marry you. Yes, Andrew.” Before Andrew can open his mouth, Neil leans back, smile turning into a small smirk. “Josten-Minyard or Minyard-Josten?”

Rose set her Chinese takeaway box on her table after the friends had casually reminisced about movies they’d seen recently at Donna’s cinema, as if they weren’t about to break someone out of prison. They all seemed to need the distraction for a moment. She, however, was never one to beat around the bush. “So, about this elephant in the room.” Mickey said, “Before we take this conversation anywhere, I need to clarify something.” Martha looked worried. “What’s that?” “I know who Torchwood is.” She sat up. “Are you serious?” Rose was incensed. “You’ve known this whole time and you didn’t say anything?” “There’s a good reason for that, I promise.” She slammed her fist down on the table. “And what fucking good reason is that, Mickey Smith? If that is even your real name.” She pointed accusingly. “Yes. Well, now it is. Used to be Rickey when I was just a punk, but I had my name legally changed. And the reason is because they’re van Statten’s number one enemy, and I work for them.” Martha blinked. “You… work for Torchwood?” “And what the bloody hell did they have to do with what happened to Theta?!” “First of all, Torchwood is nothing like Statten Labs. We’re an organization that truly works for the betterment of the world. We also deal with weird science, but it’s not like Statten, I promise. And we’re looking for ways to take him down.” “What about the harm to Theta and where he’s from?” Rose demanded. He held out his palms. “Rose, let me explain that. I wasn’t involved in that particular case, but my boss let me get intimately acquainted with the files.” “So you’ve known about him this whole time? I can’t believe this!” Martha still wouldn’t look at him. “Look, I had no idea what we signed up for. After we went home that first day, I contacted my boss immediately, and he's been working on a plan since. I’ve been letting you two lead the research. Having looked at the files, I’ve been so impressed with what you’ve been able to figure out without knowing anything.” “So, what, we’ve been your experiment, too?” “No. It’s not like that, I promise. Look, Torchwood can’t just go in guns blazing to save him. It’s impractical.” Martha sighed. “Can you… just start at the beginning of all this? How you got involved with Torchwood? What they have to do with Theta?” “Yeah. I…” He scratched his temple. “Eh, got in a bit of trouble a while back. I was a hacker. Pretty good at it, too. I managed to get past some high-level firewalls in the government. Next thing I know, I was picked up by MI5. I got this barrister who showed up out of nowhere and managed to get me out of prison time with some service time.” “Torchwood?” Rose crossed her arms. “Yeah. They took me in. I didn’t have anyone but me gran, and she died. Once she passed, I was pretty much going nowhere, had no direction. Torchwood turned my life around. Captain Jack, that’s what we all call him, the big guy in charge, he’s a good man. I promise you it’s not awful like you think it is.” Martha sighed and leaned on her elbows on the table. “Maybe Rose wouldn’t be so upset… it’s not that you work for Torchwood, but it’s the secrets. You’re our friend. Seems like friends shouldn’t keep secrets. I’m starting to understand there are reasons for it, but it hurts a little. Almost like you don’t trust us.” “No, that’s not true. I’m sorry. I really am. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me by the end of this.” She smiled a little at that. Rose prompted, “Go on about Theta.” “Yeah.” He shifted in his seat. “Few years ago, Torchwood started picking up on these readings out in the middle of the ocean, out in the north Atlantic, intermittently. They matched it up with any and every calendar. Turns out, it was, of all things, supermoons. The readings could only be picked up on nights of supermoons.” “Supermoons?” “Wait.” Martha slapped the table. “Oh, but that’s… think about it, Rose. The electricity thing that he does, and the moon’s gravitational pull that affects the tides and such. Something about the moon must have, I don’t know, amplified whatever energy readings were being picked up.” Mickey grinned. “Exactly. Torchwood packed up and set out to see what it was. So, think Wonder Woman.” “What about it?” Rose asked. “Themyscira.” “Hidden island? You found a hidden island?” “Yep. Straight out of sci-fi, I know, but it was there.” “And this civilization was on this island.” “Yes. We have no idea how they evolved or even if they're originally from Earth.” “And you all thought it was a good idea to camp out and study them? Like nothing bad could ever come of that?” “Right. We know that now, in hindsight. And we have no idea how Statten got a hold of those files. We’re thinking there’s a mole in Torchwood, just like I’m working for van Statten. Believe me, we’re combing through everything to find out who it was.” “What was in the files?” Martha asked. “Well, I think when you do the CT scan tomorrow, you’ll find that his epiphysis cerebri is larger than a human’s. That’s what gives him telepathic abilities. He can automatically translate everything we’re saying because of that. Something about being able to read the other parts of our brains while we’re speaking to understand the words. Our linguists even came up with a fake language, and they could understand.” Rose’s eyes widened. “He can read minds?” Did he know what she thought of him? “Essentially. But not, like, what you’re thinking. It’s got to be spoken.” She studied her fingernails. “Oh. Good.” “The human brain and his brain operate at different frequencies. His is higher, of course. That’s why you were able to see his dream. You were holding his hand. Skin-to-skin contact, and his brain was working at a frequency compatible with ours, and only at certain stages of sleep.” “Right place, right time, basically. Did Torchwood do experiments or something?” “No, they only collected data.” “Theta felt like what happened was his fault because of Torchwood.” “Yeah, here’s the thing. Lupa, she was open to interaction, but he never was. And, yeah, it sort of is our fault. If Torchwood hadn’t collected data, van Statten wouldn’t have gotten hold of it.” “What about that energy Torchwood detected?” Martha asked. “Theta wouldn’t ever let us get near it. He was very protective. We think he was some sort of guardian of it, being Lupa’s mate. It’s some sort of… life force, we think, or they could regard it as a deity, even. The agents there would see it at night, light coming from somewhere on the island. We never figured it out, and we wouldn’t pry because we didn’t want to lose their trust. But we do know they can live for a long time. They’re not immortal, but we’re thinking hundreds of years, maybe more, if something doesn’t happen to them.” “They wanted him specifically, though. Why?” “One of the agents was hurt, took a nasty fall while exploring the island. Theta healed him.” “Statten wanted to find out how.” “Yeah. And we know we messed up, and we want to do anything possible to help get him back.” Rose spoke up. “Wait. You’ve been working with us for a while now. How long ago was Theta picked up?” “It’s been a few months, we think, since Saxon got a hold of him. It’s been that long since the last supermoon.” “What the fuck has Saxon been doing with him for months?” “I don’t think any of us want to know the answer to that. And we had no idea he’d been taken, or we would have gotten at him earlier.” “Well, you’re not keeping him at Torchwood when we break him out. I don’t think he’d want that, and I certainly don’t want to keep him in a lab again.” “Where do you want him to go, then?” She shrugged. “He can stay with me. Can’t Torchwood do some sort of protection even if he’s not at your facilities?” “Yeah, we can. So, what do you think? How do we bust him out of there?” Rose raised her eyebrows. “Shouldn’t Torchwood have a plan? You’re the ones with access to resources, and you need to clean up the mess you’ve made.” “We do, yeah, but I wanna know what you would do.” She thought for a moment. “No guns blazing… what if we could just, I don’t know, get him out through a back door or something?” “And how would we get him out without someone noticing? That hair and beard aren’t exactly inconspicuous.” “We’d have to put him in some normal clothes, I suppose. I could cut his hair. Make him look a bit more London than wilderness man. Put him in a hat. Fake glasses. That sort of thing.” “Can Torchwood make him some credentials?” Martha posed. “We can do that. What else?” Rose began cleaning the table, picking up their boxes and throwing them in the trash. “How soon can he get back to the island?” “Two weeks? We need him to lie low for a bit while Torchwood makes it look like we're running this big operation." "Sort of like a shell game?" "Exactly. " “We’ve got to do this before he starts checking up on us again.” "Right. We need to have him out in two days, by my estimation. Gives us a day to prep everything. Plant an employee record, notify other Torchwood agents inside, that kind of stuff. It’s only been a few days since we’ve started our work, a day less since Saxon disappeared. We'll think of something to distract him, too. Because with the technology Statten's got, I can't imagine he's not on the mend. Maybe we'll drain his bank account or something. Identity theft. Once we have him out, the other Torchwood agents and I will clean up afterwards, and we’ll make it look like it was us. They won’t suspect either of you. Especially when we show up the next morning and put in the call that he's missing.” “What about cameras and all that? When we're getting him out for real?” He grinned. “See, Rose, you’d make a great agent. And you, too, Martha, of course.” Martha said sheepishly, “I might need to find something new after all this is done. No way I’m staying with Statten.” Mickey smiled, and they were awkwardly silent for a moment. Rose cleared her throat. “Aaaaaanyway, cameras?” “I’ll get a hold of our guy in security.” "Well. I guess it's sorted, then?" "Yeah." "Wanna watch a movie or something?" Martha asked. "Nah, I'm good. I kinda want to sleep," Rose answered. "Mickey?" "Let's get some ice cream or something. My treat." Martha smiled. "Yeah. You owe me big time, mister." -- Rose tossed and turned in her bed later that evening, her mind replaying the whole conversation. She thought of Theta, how lonely he must have been for a while, how lonely he must be when they leave. He seemed to enjoy their company a bit. She was happy he wouldn’t be alone for much longer. She thought of Mickey’s comment, about the deity or life force or whatever on the island. She wasn’t particularly religious herself, never had been. She sighed. Obviously, whatever it was couldn’t hear her, but she decided to say a few words anyway. “I promise I’ll bring him home.”

“Mama!”   Eda awoke to a little hand on her face. She blearily opens her eyes to see her two-year old leaning over her.   “Up time!”   Eda stretches, feeling her back pop, and grabs Aria, pulling her into the nest.   “Few more minutes,” mumbles Eda, snuggling into Aria, who was attempting to squirm out of her mothers arms.   “No!” she squeals, “Hooty! Hooty!”   Eda hardly has time to react before she sees a shadow loom above them.   “I will protect you, fair maiden!”   Hooty squirms his way in between the two and wraps himself around a giggling Aria, lifting her out of the nest and onto the ground.    “Alright, alright,” says Eda, yawning and sitting up, “I get the picture, I’m up.”   She swings her legs off the side of her nest and slips her feet into her bunny slippers. As soon as she stands up, Aria grabs her hand and starts dragging her downstairs.   Eda’s nose is met with the smell of griffin eggs and herbs, and sees a plate of food on the table. Raine must have made her breakfast before leaving for work. She smiles.   Even now, their acts of love and care warm Eda's heart.   “Nini made food,” says Aria, confirming her suspicions.    “Did you already eat, songbird?” Aria nods, before climbing up onto the bench and grabbing a letter that was on the table.   “Hooty gave us mail!” she says, waving the letter around, “for you!”   Eda takes a bite of eggs and plucks the letter out of Aria’s hands. She observes the familiar gold and black seal, the sign of a Blackwood, before carefully tearing open the letter with her nails.    Dearest Edalyn, I hope this letter finds you well! Your last letter has made me chuckle. Aria sounds like such a joy! I cannot wait to see her again. I am wondering if I could ask a favor of you. I have been reading different texts on humans, and their flora is so interesting! I wonder how human ingredients would interact with our potions? Are there new recipes to discover? How good are their teas? I propose we take a day in the human realm! You still have your door, yes? Perhaps we could even take the children with us! Elwin has gotten so curious. He often watches me while potion making, I’m sure they’d have a lovely time. Let me know, I look forward to your response! Lots of love, Rowena Blackwood.   Eda chuckles to herself. Rowena Blackwood, after bumping into her at the night market, had kept in semi-constant contact. It turns out that while the Blackwoods were known for their potion business, they have also been doing underground dealings with wild witches for generations.    Rowena was actually the one who had suggested creating a wild witch group, so they could all help each other evade the emperor coven’s tyrannical law. She was very old fashioned, not even having a scroll, so she and Eda communicated through handwritten letters.   “Hey Ari,” says Eda, making the small girl look up from her task of folding paper, “how’d you like to take a trip to the human realm?”   “Yes!” says Aria, lighting up. Eda smiles and draws a spell circle, a pen and paper floating in and landing on the table in front of her.   Time to write back to Rowena.   —-------------------------------------   Eda walks into the living room, rummaging through her patchwork shoulder bag to make sure she had everything. Aria was laying on the floor, playing with some wooden blocks with runes on them. Aria’s mint green hair was choppy and reached just above her shoulders, and she was wearing black overalls over a red t shirt. Eda was wearing her usual off-the shoulder red dress and tall heeled boots.   “You have a visitor, hoot hoot!” says Hooty, the door swinging open. There stood Rowena, holding the hand of her three-year old son Elwin.   Aria gasps and gets up, running towards the door.   “No you don’t!” says Eda, quickly grabbing the toddler and holding her.   “Heyyyy!” she whines.   “Sorry about that, this little rascal always tries making a mad dash out the door.” says Eda, ruffling Aria’s hair. Rowena laughs.   “Oh do I understand that. My little dragon just hit his growth spurt, so we’ve had to move the more dangerous items on the upper shelves.” she says, giving Eda a wink. Elwin looks up at Eda, giving her a wide smile.   “Hello, miss Eda!” he says. Eda chuckles.   “No need for that ‘miss’ stuff, kid.” she says, placing Aria down, “Ari, do you remember Elwin? You were very little when you met last.”   Eda and Rowena had gone out for coffee about a year after Aria had been born. Rowena had brought Elwin with her, and the two seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Eda doubted the two would remember it though.   “Hi!” says Aria, holding out a hand, “I’m Aria!”   “Elwin,” he replies, taking her hand and shaking it.    “Wanna see my toys?” asks Aria. Elwin nods and the two run into the house, Aria leading him to her toy chest.   Eda smiles and holds back a purr.   She felt bad that Aria was an only child- as a kid, Lily was her best friend, and she worried about Aria being too lonely. When she found out Rowena had given birth a year before her, Eda knew she wanted Aria to befriend the little Elwin.   “Come on in,” says Eda to Rowena, “do you have everything you need?”   “Yes!” says Rowena, “I’ve brought my camera, my journal, drinks and snacks for the kids, and my magic bag!”   “Magic bag?” Eda questions, raising a brow. Rowena gestures to the small messenger bag resting on her hip.   “It’s a Blackwood heirloom,” says Rowena, “it’s enchanted so it has unlimited space in it! It’s quite helpful for collecting potion ingredients, I must say.”   “Impressive,” notes Eda. That would sure make some of her shoplifting much easier. She makes a mental note to look more into expansion spells.   “Alright kids, are you ready to go?” Rowena asks. The two toddlers quickly abandon their toys and run up to their parents.   “Yes yes yes!” They both chant. Eda chuckles and takes out the portal door, but doesn’t open it yet.   “Before we go, some ground rules,” says Rowena, holding up a finger, “one- you will stay close to us at all times. The human realm is unpredictable, so no wandering off, or we’re coming straight home.”   “Two,” continues Eda, “the human realm doesn’t know about witches or demons, so I will have to cast an illusion on the two of you to hide your witchy features,” she casts a spell circle over the two children, and a light glow encompasses them. Both their ears turn small and rounded. Elwin’s pink skin turns a light brown, similar to his mothers, and his tiny bat wings disappear.   “You look weird!” Aria giggles, pointing at Elwin. He pokes at her ears.   “Not as weird as you!” He says in response, “so circly!”   The two continue to laugh and poke at each other while Rowena and Eda put on their bandanas, hiding their own long ears. Eda opens the portal door, and holds out her hand for Aria to take. Rowena does the same, and the two children hold on to their mothers without complaint.   “Off we go!” says Eda, stepping through.    They enter a small broken-down hut, one all too familiar for Eda. They walk towards the open door, and Aria, Elwin, and Rowena marvel at the woods in front of them.   “The human world is so…green,” Rowena says in awe. Eda chuckles.   “Yeah, and guess what? The rain here doesn’t even boil!”   “No!” Rowena gasps, looking at her with shock.    “Come on,” says Eda, leading them down the porch steps and into the woods, “I know some fun hiking spots in the woods where we can forage for ingredients.”     The four spend the next two hours walking through the green forest. Every new tree, animal, or plant was met with a ‘what’s that?’ from Aria and Elwin. Since she had been here so many times, Eda agreed to watch the kids while Rowena could more closely study the human flora.    It reminded her of something Lily would do. Stopping to look at a plant, taking out her journal and drawing a quick sketch. It made her a little melancholy.    She was never able to bring Lilith to the human realm. When she had found the portal, it was after her sister had already gone to be at the emperor’s coven, so she never had the chance to show her.   Lilith would find the human realm so fascinating.   She was snapped out of her musings when Aria came up to her, a variety of mushrooms in her hands.   “Mama, look!” she says, shoving the mushrooms up at Eda, “hang on wall!”   “Haha, okay okay,” says Eda, casting a spell circle and putting them in a small baggie, before stuffing them in her hair. Aria had developed a habit of placing anything she found cool on her bedroom wall, from sticks to monster teeth.    Raine would jokingly complain about where she got that habit from, as Eda was in the process of hanging up a large foam finger she found on their living-room wall.   Eda snaps out of her musings and looks over at Elwin, who was bent over a berry bush, slowly bringing a red berry to his mouth.   “Elwin, no, don’t eat that!”   —-------------------------------------   Eventually, the four made their way out of the dense forest and ended up in the small town Eda knew as Gravesfield. Usually there wasn’t much activity going on, and Eda’s shenanigans were the most eventful thing happening at any given time.   Today, however, there were dozens of stalls lining the streets, all selling different wares.   “Looks like humans have their own market days,” muses Eda, “this usually isn’t here.”   “What an excellent opportunity!” Rowena gasps, clapping, “maybe I could find some human tea!”   “Okay rascals,” says Eda, bending down to Aria and Elwin, “you two are gonna hold on to us the entire time, okay?” The two nod and proceed to hold their mothers’ hands. Elwin and Aria also hold hands, so they’ve created a four person chain.   The four start weaving their way through the stalls, the children oohing and aahing at the different products. Eventually, Elwin stops, pointing at a stall.   “Mommy,” says Elwin, tugging on Rowena’s arm, “I want one!”   The two women turn their heads to see what Elwin is pointing at. At one of the stands full of stuffed animals was a stuffed giraffe.   “I forgot those were a thing here,” Rowena muses, “alright sweetheart, is that really what you want?” Elwin nods, and so the four make their way towards the stand.   “I would like that giraffe stuffed animal, please,” says Rowena, and Elwin grabs the stuffed animal and holds it close to him. Rowena takes some snails out of her pocket and passes them to the vendor. They look closely at the money and frown.   “Look lady, I don’t know where you’re from, but we only take American cash here,” they say, passing the money back to her. Rowena furrows her eyebrows.   “American…cash?” she questions.   The vendor grabs the stuffed animal out of Elwin’s hands, who lets out a cry of protest.   “No cash, no animal.”   “Here, let me.”   A woman walks up next to them and hands the vendor some money. She looked to be heavily pregnant, with warm brown skin and chocolate colored eyes behind red glasses.    The vendor hands the stuffed animal to the woman, who turns and hands the animal to Elwin.   “Here you go niñito,” Elwin takes the animal and hugs it close to his chest.   “Thank you miss!” he says. He turns to Aria and shows her the creature, and she pokes its long neck, commenting on how strange it looks.   “I appreciate your kindness,” says Rowena to the woman, “please, how can I repay you?”   The woman lets out a hearty laugh and waves her hand in dismissal.   “Don’t worry about it,” she says. Rowena smiles appreciatively at the woman, before she starts fishing through her messenger bag.   “Cariño!” Yells a man, running up to them. He was wearing a flannel and had dark curly hair that faded into a short beard.   “I found a stall selling flowers,” he says, putting a hand on her shoulder, “it’d be a perfect gift for your mother!”   It was then he noticed Rowena, Eda, and the two children.   “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt?” he asks, putting a hand up to his face, looking mildly embarrassed.   “No no, it’s alright,” says Eda, “thank you again. We’re from out of town, and totally forgot the correct currency.”   “Ah, I can’t tell you how many times that’s happened to me,” the man chuckles, “I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t attached to my body! Camila here really keeps me grounded”   “Mama,” says Aria, tugging on Eda’s dress, “ups!”   Eda smiles and hoists Aria up, balancing her on her hip.   “You have no idea how much I relate,” says Eda, turning back to the man, “I’ve lost my hands more times than I can count.”   The man looks at her with mild concern.   “Uhh…”   “Found it!” Rowena announces, taking out a bracelet. It was beaded, each painted with intricate details, with a flower charm in the middle. She offers it to Camila.   “Please, take this as thanks.”   “Oh, I couldn’t” says Camila, heat rising to her cheeks, “it looks too valuable.”   “My husband is a jewelry maker,” Rowena explains, “if you’re worried about the price, you need not be- I’d love for you to have it.” Camila gently takes it, and admires the handiwork.   “This is incredible,” she breathes, captivated by its beauty. She slips it on her wrist, relieved to see it’s a perfect fit, “Thank you so much!” Rowena practically glows at the woman’s reaction.   “Well, are you ready to go?” the man asks his wife. She nods up at him, before waving to the little family. The two groups go their separate ways.   “Nice protection spell on that bracelet,” Eda comments once they’re out of earshot, “are all your husband's creations charmed like that?”   “Only by special request,” Rowena says, giving Eda a sly smile, “I keep some of his work on me at all times in case I’m hit with a particular…divination.”    “I didn’t know you dabbled in oracle magic,” says Eda, “you sense something about her?” Rowena nods, her expression turning serious.   “I’m not sure what it is, but I have a feeling there’s going to be hardship for her in the future…I want to make sure someone that kind is protected.” Eda feels a shiver up her spine.   There was a reason she never got into oracle magic, and it was because it gave her the creeps.   While oracles couldn’t see perfectly into the future, their intuition and clairvoyance were leveled up. One of Raine’s mothers was an oracle, and she was always being cryptic- from sending Eda a string of garlic a month before she ran into a vampire, to sending clothes for Aria with her exact measurements, even when she’s constantly growing.   “Admit it, you just like carrying those on you so you have a good reason to give strangers gifts,” Eda remarks. Blood rushes to Rowena’s face.   “Guilty!” she giggles, “I’m just not all that great with interactions- I’ve found gift giving to be universally beloved!”   “I know I for one always love free stuff,” she says, before zeroing in on a vendor selling loose-leaf tea, “Speaking of free stuff…what do you say I show you the bad girl art of stealing?”   —-------------------------------------   The two moms stepped through the portal door, their children asleep in their arms. After a successful day of robbing different human stands, and making sure their easily distracted children didn’t run off or get lost, they both felt dead on their feet. Eda in particular felt magically drained, as she had kept up the illusion on the two kids for the whole day. She could feel feathers pricking through her arms, and knew she needed to take an elixir soon.   “You’re back!” says Raine, walking into the living room, “I made leftovers! Rowena, do you want to join us for dinner?” they ask, taking a sleeping Aria from Eda, who gratefully stretched out her stiff arms.   “I’d love to, but I fear my little dragon needs his beauty sleep,” she says, taking out her palisman. It was a light brown snake with white spots and golden eyes.    “Thank you again for today,” says Rowena to Eda, opening the door, “we’ll have to get together again soon!”    Eda smiles, watching her and Elwin fly away.

The morning of the sports festival is a buzz of energy. Izuku wakes up an hour earlier than usual (not because of a nightmare for once), and dresses and gets ready in record time. Inko makes a large breakfast. Ten minutes before his bus will arrive, Izuku can’t wait any longer, and grabs his bag to leave. “I feel bad we can’t have our yearly festival-watching party,” he says as he hugs his mom goodbye. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m recording it,” Inko assures him. “We can watch it later, and you can give me the inside scoop.” Izuku smiles. “Okay, sounds good.” “Good luck, Izuku,” Inko beams. “You’re going to do great!” “Thanks, mom.”   The classroom is empty when Izuku gets there, a note on the chalkboard telling them to leave their belongings and get changed into their gym uniforms before heading to the stadium. In the locker room, a few other guys are changing. Kaminari waves to Izuku. “Hey man, you excited?” he asks. “Yeah,” Izuku says, opening his locker. “You?” “I’m so hype, dude. Just hoping I don’t go stupid in front of all those cameras.” Kaminari laughs awkwardly. Izuku shrugs. “You’ve got a good chance of making an impression on the pros, though. Electricity is both flashy and versatile, and there have been some pretty cool pros with electric quirks.” “Yeah, that’s true.” Kaminari zips up his jacket. “Let’s just hope it’s a good impression.” Izuku knows the feeling. Assuming he gets far enough for anyone to notice, he’ll make a stir just by being quirkless. Izuku and Kaminari walk to the stadium together, but split up when they get to the prep room. Izuku avoids catching Katsuki’s eyes and sits next to Hitoshi, who’s hunched over, glaring daggers into the table. “Everything okay?” he asks. “Oh. everything’s great, I just have to go on national television with no binder, it’s fine,” Hitoshi snarls sarcastically. He sighs, deflating a bit. “Like, I get why I can’t wear a binder while exercising, that’s why my costume has a jacket. But Midnight’s refusing to let me wear it because it isn’t ‘essential support gear’.” “Geez, that’s shitty.” Izuku frowns. “She said the same thing about my gauntlets.” “It’s the fucking worst,” Hitoshi agrees. “Mic tried to get her to let me as a favor to him, since they went to school together, but she’s being stubborn as hell.” “I’m sorry.” “Ugh, it’s not like they’re even really visible in my gym uniform. They’re already pretty small, and I have a top made for dancers that keeps them pretty firmly in place,” Hitoshi explains. “It just feels like the minute I walk out there everyone's going to be staring directly at my chest.” Before Izuku can think of something reassuring to say, Ochako and Tsuyu join them. “Are you guys excited?” Ochako asks. “Aside from the debilitating dysphoria, yes.” Tsuyu pats Histoshi’s arm. “I understand, kero.” Shouto joins them, sitting on Izuku’s other side. “Welcome to the table of misery,” Hitoshi jokes. “Why is this the table of misery?” Shouto asks. “Mostly just because I’m miserable and I want to feel like I’m not alone.” “Oh.” “Are you excited, Shouto?” Ochako asks. “Everyone’s already saying you’re the favorite to win.” “I guess.” Shouto shrugs. “They’re only saying that because of my father, though.” “That’s probably true for the people who don’t know you,” Tsuyu says. “But I do think you have a really good chance of winning. Aside from a strong quirk, I can tell from our training so far that you’ve got good combat sense and reflexes.” “I wouldn’t say I’m so much better that I’d be the favorite,” Shouto says. “There are other people in our class who are strong or smart.” “Sure, but you’ve clearly had training before this,” Histoshi says, face now resting on the table. Shouto frowns slightly. “Hey, don’t make it sound like none of us have a chance,” Izuku teases. He turns to Shouto. “If we end up facing each other, I’m gonna kick your ass.” “Okay.” Shouto’s mouth twitches up on one side in a tiny smile. “This is the prep room for 1-A, right?” A voice says from the doorway. Izuku looks up to see Natsuo standing there, holding his gauntlets. “Natsu-nii?” Shouto asks. “Hey, Shouto.” Natsuo walks over to their table. “I came to bring Izuku his gauntlets.” “You got Midnight to approve them?” Izuku asks. Hitoshi huffs angrily, and Izuku shoots him an apologetic grimace. “Yeah, turns out that babbling on about support tech jargon will get her to sign the papers, even if it’s just to shut me up.” Natsuo hands them over. “Here you go.” “Thanks!” Izuku grins. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing here?” Katsuki appears to have noticed Natsuo, who heaves a sigh. “Oh right, you’re here too,” he rolls his eyes. “The support company I intern with sent me as a scout.” “And what, you came to say hi to fucking Deku?” “Actually I came to deliver his gauntlets. And to wish my brother good luck.” Izuku watches the gears turn in Katsuki’s head as he realises who Natsuo’s talking about. “What the fuck do you mean Icy-Hot is your brother?” “Icy-Hot?” Natsuo asks, raising an eyebrow. “Still doing that stupid nickname thing, huh?” Katsuki slams an explosion onto his table, but Natsuo smoothly ignores him and turns back to Izuku and Shouto. “Anyway, good luck you two,” he says. “I should get to my seat before the opening ceremony.” “Thanks, Natsu-nii.” “Thanks, Natsuo-senpai!” Izuku chirps. Natsuo ruffles his hair, pats Shouto on the shoulder, and leaves without so much as a glance in Katsuki’s direction. “Holy shit your brother’s cool,” Hitoshi mutters. “Thanks?” Shouto’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “You’re welcome.” Katsuki starts toward them, but gets intercepted by Iida yelling about his disrespectful attitude. Their increasingly loud conversation is interrupted by the announcement for them to get ready to walk into the stadium. Yaoyorozu takes charge, directing them down the stairs to the hallway they’re designated to enter through. “Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” Present Mic’s voice booms across the stadium. “The first-year participants are about to take the stage, are you ready?” The crowd cheers. “Alright, first up is Class 1-A, the rising stars who held their own against a villain attack!” “I told him to not say that,” Hitoshi mutters as they stride onto the field. Cameras flash from every angle, and the roar of the crowd is deafening. Izuku puts on a cheerful smile and waves, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of sensory input. He barely hears the introductions for Class B and the other courses. They converge in front of the stage where Midnight stands. “Someone needs to talk to Midnight-sensei about what she's wearing,” Kirishima says, avoiding looking at her. “At least while she’s teaching.” “Apparently her original costume was worse,” Hitoshi adds. “And now, your first year representative!” Midnight announces. “From Class 1-A, Midoriya Izuku!” Izuku climbs onto the stage. Aizawa had told him last week that he’d be doing this, since he came in first in the heroics exam. He’d thought about what he wanted to say, had gone so far as to try writing a speech, but he’d never been able to come up with something that didn’t sound either cheesy or outright hostile. Winging it isn’t the best plan, but Izuku’s never claimed to make good decisions. “I know there’s been a lot of talk about certain classes or certain students having the upper hand in this tournament,” Izuku says into the microphone, grinning. “But I just want to say, don’t get too caught up in all that. You never know when someone will come from behind and surprise you.” He bows and turns to leave the stage. There’s scattered applause from the assembled students, mixed with a lot of weird looks. Izuku catches at least five Class B students squinting at him in confusion. When he reaches his class, Ochako grins at him and Hitoshi pats him on the back. “Hell of a speech,” he teases. “Thanks,” Izuku laughs. “Now, let’s get started with the first event!” Midnight says. “Up first is the qualifier! To proceed on to the next event, our first years will have to face…” She trails off, gesturing to a screen. A roll of events flash across the screen before coming to a stop. “An obstacle course race!” “Members of all eleven classes will race along a four-kilometer track around the stadium! As long as they stay on the course, anything goes!” A gate opens, and the classes move to the entrance. Izuku slips through the crowd, weaving between other students with the practiced ease of someone who’s spent years navigating crowded school halls without drawing attention to himself. He loses sight of his friends, but ends up near the front. “Get ready!” Midnight calls. “Get set! Go!” A buzzer sounds, and the mass of students charges forward as one. Izuku’s far enough forward that he avoids getting trapped as students flood the too-narrow tunnel. A wave of cold sweeps through, and Izuku knows what’s about to happen. He jumps, kicking off the wall as ice covers the ground. Izuku lands, struggling to find his footing as Shouto races past. He picks his way across the ice as quickly as he can. A lot of other students have avoided the ice, and they’re starting to catch up. By the time Izuku reaches un-frozen dirt, he can see the first obstacle. The robots from the entrance exam cover the track from edge to edge, including a row or towering zero-pointers. Izuku catches sight of Shouto in front of them just before he unleashes a massive wave of ice, freezing all the zero-pointers in one go. “Quick!” A student Izuku doesn’t recognize yells. “Between their legs!” “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Shouto calls over his shoulder as he runs. “I froze them off-balance. On purpose.” A laugh bursts out of Izuku as he dodges a one-pointer. He hangs back as the massive robots crash down, sending ice and metal flying. He ducks another one-pointer and rushes forward once the dust has settled. A three-pointer locks onto him and chases. “Shit,” he mutters, scanning the track for something he can use. He spots a metal panel and grabs it, swinging it around to slam into the three-pointer and knock it to the ground. He takes off again. He can hear Present Mic over all the commotion, but he doesn’t bother listening to whatever he’s saying. Izuku can tell he isn’t near the front of the group anymore, but he’s not out of the running. Izuku keeps going, bringing the panel with him. If nothing else it’ll make a decent shield. He reaches the second obstacle, where a group of students are hesitating at the edge of a canyon. Shouto is already more than halfway across, using his ice to stabilize himself as he crosses the web of cables stretching between small platforms. Katsuki is catching up, using his explosions to blast himself over the canyon. Izuku blocks out the sound the best he can and focuses on himself. He uses the wires still attached to his bit of paneling to strap it across his back. Nearby, a girl decked out in support gear launches herself off the edge, using some sort of grappling hook to catch onto a platform. Izuku smiles to himself. He can admit he has a bit of a soft spot for support techs. Izuku grabs onto a cable and hangs off it, hooking his knees over it and crawling along. The undersides of his gauntlets protect his palms, keeping them from being rubbed raw. By the time he reaches the far edge of the canyon his arms are aching, but he powers through. Present Mic is yelling about the third obstacle, a minefield. Izuku nearly trips over his own feet. The last fucking thing he needs right now is to be surrounded by explosions. Present Mic explains that the mines are harmless, designed to trip them up more than hurt them, but are still loud and flashy. Izuku is far from reassured. He pauses at the edge of the minefield. Shouto is picking his way across carefully, and as Izuku watches Katsuki blasts by him. He tears his eyes away from them and looks at the ground. Almost all the mines near the front are untouched. Izuku knows he’s fast and sneaky, but he lost a lot of time crossing the canyon, and he can’t be sure he’ll be fast enough to secure a qualifying spot. An idea comes to him. It’s reckless, and if it doesn’t work he’ll lose even more time, but it’s all he’s got. Taking a deep breath, he pulls the panel from his back and uses it to start unearthing mines and pushing them into a pile. He flinches every time another student triggers one. He takes a step back, wrapping the wires around his gauntlets to give himself a grip on the panel. “Thanks for the idea, Katsuki,” he mutters, slamming the panel down onto the pile of mines. They explode into a giant cloud of pink smoke, propelling Izuku through the air. He goes flying over the heads of the other students, many of whom are staring up at him in shock. Present Mic starts yelling about an upset as Izuku goes soaring past Shouto and Katsuki, who stop going after each other to race after him. The ground is rapidly approaching, and Izuku realizes he has no idea how to land. If he hits the dirt at this speed he might not be able to recover fast enough. Below him Shouto and Katsuki are neck-and-neck. He shifts his position the best he can in midair, and manages to plant one foot on each of their shoulders. “Sorry Shouto!” He yells, slamming the panel onto the ground. The mines below them explode, propelling Izuku forward while knocking the other two to the sides. Izuku hits the ground and rolls to his feet, safely across the minefield. He doesn’t pause to look behind him as he takes off running. The gate back into the stadium is just ahead of him, and Izuku sprints into it. He blocks out everything else, focusing only on getting to the finish line. He bursts through the tunnel into the stadium to the sound of raucous cheering. He stumbles to a stop, bracing his hands on his knees. “The first-place finisher of the qualifier is none other than Midoriya Izuku!” Present Mic announces. Izuku looks up at one of the screens around the stadium to find his own face grinning down at him, a gold number one emblazoned on his picture. He laughs, straightening up and grinning triumphantly. Izuku takes a moment to absorb the applause from the roaring crowd. Pride wells up in his chest, and for once he doesn’t think about how Katsuki is going to feel about his accomplishment.

It’s a cruel word. But you ain’t it. “Is there a statute of limitations on a lie of omission?” Matt asked, hands wrapped tightly around his black coffee. Father Lantom chuckled. “You really are a lawyer sometimes.” Matt remembered his younger self running hands over Thurgood Marshall’s writing and translating the feeling into words for his father. The way his father’s heart had beat, impressed that his son was reciting what, to him, might as well have been a foreign language. Matt had always hated the world for sticking his father in that ring, robbing him of any chance to read Thurgood Marshall, or anything at all other than signs advertising the latest fight. But he knew it was sacrilege to hate the ring, so he kept it to himself. “I just wish I had told him. I like to think…” Matt trailed off, shrugging. “I like to think he’d be okay. With it. With me. But at the same time…” “It’s something you’ll never know,” Lantom said. Matt frowned, taking a drink from his cup. “He was a compassionate man. Everyone around here says so. And I’ve heard you talk about him, and he really loved you, Matthew. If that helps.” It didn’t. “It does.”     There was a cafe across the street from the community center that Matt knew intimately despite having never been in it. As much as everyone appreciated Owen setting up coffee, it was understood that it wasn’t his strength, and people often came to the meetings with lattes and pastries with expensive ingredients that drove Matt up the wall. It reminded him of sharing a dorm with Foggy. He was grateful for Owen’s coffee. He didn’t need something from across the street. No matter how many times he smelled pumpkin spice. “I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot,” Matt started. “Not fondly. I’m not upset with him. I just feel guilty.” He sighed, leaning his head forward into his hands. “It’s exhausting, feeling guilty all the time. And even thinking that goes against every Catholic bone in my body. I should be guilty. God, I couldn’t even tell you why anymore, just that I am. I wish I had known my dad. I wish I’d had the chance. Seven years, that’s nothing. And I’ve been thinking about it in relation to God’s plan. My priest tells me it all happens for a reason, that we’re trying to piece together why things happen from the wrong side. But I just can’t see it.” He laughed self-deprecatingly, gesturing to his glasses. No one joined him. “I mean, not to throw myself a pity party here, but c’mon. Blinded and orphaned and,” he stumbled over the word, like always, but he’d been able to say it more often, “raped, all within a couple of years. What’s the reason? What’s the possible reason? And I can’t stop thinking that maybe… maybe God’s plan fucking sucks. I don’t know. I don’t know about anything, but I just can’t stop… feeling this thing inside me, and I get so mad I could lose it. Really lose it.” He shook his head, an inside joke he shares only with himself. “I just want to let the Devil out on God sometimes.” “You know, Matt, that’s a really big step.” Matt lifted his head up in surprise. “Anger, it’s not always a terrible thing. And it’s nothing to feel guilty about.” “Actually, it’s one of the seven big things to feel guilty about.” “It’s healing,” Owen said. “When you’re angry at the people who hurt you, it’s a sign that you’re realizing what happened was wrong. That you didn’t deserve it.” Matt furrowed his brow, but Owen kept talking. “Anger is a sort of self-defense. It guards you from feeling something else, sometimes, but when recovering from abuse, it’s defending you against yourself. That anger is your self-hatred being redirected to those who hurt you. Where it belongs.”     “Hey, Karen, what are you—” “You called yourself the Devil.” Matt stood still, holding the door to his apartment open. Karen was standing outside it, having shown up unannounced, heart pounding like she was terrified or had just run a mile. Or like she might break down in tears. “What are you talking about?” “You called yourself the Devil, Matt. When I asked about you and Foggy fighting. Was it because you’re gay?” “Karen—” “Because you’re not the Devil, alright?” She walked right past him into his apartment, planning to argue her way through this, prepared to win a fight against a professional lawyer with her conviction alone. He shut the door and followed her to his living room. “You know—” She isn’t planning on hearing his side. Not yet. “Yeah, Matt, I know about your insane habit of dressing up at night and kicking criminals’ asses, but you chose to put those horns on. Some part of you picked that. And your grandma called you the Devil when you were a kid, and I can’t imagine how that fucked up how you feel about yourself, but Matt, I’m starting to get an idea of how deep that runs.” She took a step closer to him, careful not to invade his space. “This Murdock Devil… what is it? What do you think it is?” Matt took a shaky breath, his own heart racing to match hers now. He could feel her posture shift, and he knew she was waiting for an answer, but after that day’s meeting, he wasn’t sure what to give her. “Matt. Why do you call yourself the Devil?” “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I don’t know anymore.”     At the end of the night, he walked her to his door. He didn’t know when he stopped pretending he could live without her, without Foggy, but he’d recently thrown all pretenses aside. He could hear in her breathing the shift to a small smile while she said goodnight, and before she went, she told him, “I’m glad you finally learned how to work a thermostat.” “What do you mean?” he asked. “Your apartment is always freezing. But it was actually livable tonight.”     Foggy had a certain skip in his step for the past couple of days. Matt wasn’t sure what caused it, but it was nice to hear the uptick of his favorite heartbeat every time the office’s door opened. It made his shoulders drop just a little, his instinctively rigid posture able to relax around the man he trusted so well. But today was a new level. Foggy came in whistling. Honest to God whistling. And the moment he opened the door, Matt smelled it. Pumpkin spice with whipped cream. And a cinnamon muffin to boot. As Matt suspected, he didn’t go to his desk. He came over to Matt’s, his heart thrumming nervously and some new cologne that was just subtle enough that Matt was able to enjoy it without being smothered, and his hand was radiating warmth because of the drink he had in it, and Matt knew with sudden and complete clarity what was about to happen. “Foggy, don’t,” he cut in, and Foggy stopped, confused. “You can’t— you don’t know—” “I don’t know everything,” Foggy agreed, interrupting him gently. “But I don’t need to.” “What happened to the importance of honesty?” “You have honest intentions. And you’re not keeping anything from me. You’re just not ready to say it.” He shrugged, carefree, despite everything that was happening. “That’s different.” “I…” Matt tried, before realizing he was arguing for nothing. A case he wasn’t even sure he still believed in. So he swallowed, straightened his glasses, and said, “I have to be the one… to ask. It’s one of those. Things of mine.” Foggy nodded, setting the bag from the bakery and the coffee cup onto Matt’s desk. “Do you want to ask?” Foggy questioned. “For years now.” “Alright. Then I’ll be here when you’re ready.” And it was that simple for him. He was willing to walk out of Matt’s office and go to his own and wait for an unspecified amount of time for Matt to work up the guts, the strength, the heart to say it. It made Matt warm from the inside out. As Foggy turned to leave, Matt said, “Wait.” And Foggy did. “Do you want to… Foggy, do you want to go out tonight? With me?”     The two of them debated for over twenty minutes when Foggy got to Matt’s. Josie’s was deemed too casual, most of the bars in town were deemed too loud or smelly or just terrible, any and all formal restaurants were deemed too expensive for two lawyers with consciences, and diners were too greasy. Finally Matt said, “We could just stay in?” Which he regretted saying as soon as he did. That kind of statement has implications. And Foggy knew them, given the heat that flooded his cheeks, but he had the decency not to bring them up because he’s Foggy. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “That sounds nice.” So they ordered a small pizza to split from the only place in Hell’s Kitchen that washed their hands thoroughly enough for Matt to be able to stand. Foggy didn’t even have to ask, he knew which one by heart. It felt entirely mundane in a warmly pleasant way until Foggy had the guts to wiggle his toes under Matt’s leg. And then it felt extraordinary, like it was a moment of miracles, and Matt laid a gentle hand on Foggy’s calf and rubbed circles with his thumb. “Why haven’t we been doing this since the beginning?” Matt asked himself aloud, and Foggy’s heart skipped just a little. “You know, I tried to in college,” he joked. “I wasn’t ready.” “I know.” And he did. Maybe not everything, not the gory details that Matt couldn’t even share with his support group, but the things that make him Matt. He knew him in something deeper than the Biblical sense—he understood him.     They fell asleep together on his couch with their legs brushing against each other and in the morning he and Foggy took turns showering and Matt let the water run hot.     “We should get Karen something,” Foggy says on their walk to work. “From the bakery. Or maybe just a strong coffee. She said she hasn’t been sleeping great lately.” “Maybe she needs less caffeine then.” “You’re one to talk.” “Oh, I’m big on hypocrisy. You do know what my day and night jobs are, right?” Foggy cackled at the joke, and Matt found himself relieved that it wasn’t stepping too far out of line. Maybe it could just be like this, now. Maybe once the lies stopped, the hurt could too. For a bit. So while they were in line for a local business that always tried to give them discounts but they overtipped to compensate for, Matt blurted out, “I hate black coffee.” Foggy’s mouth, halfway through reciting their order to practice for the register, froze. And Matt couldn’t exactly pinpoint all the sensory information that allowed him to figure it out, but he could feel Foggy’s smile in the air around him. “I know,” Foggy said.     “Well, Foggy’s the eyes and the brain of the firm. Always has been,” Matt joked. “We never decided what that makes you, though.” “The heart,” Karen said definitively. “Matt’s the heart of the whole thing.”     “I was praying last night,” Matt told Father Lantom. “Proper praying, with my mom’s rosary.” “And did you receive revelation?” Father asked, and Matt laughed. “No, I didn’t.” “Then why mention it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Matt twirled his cane between his legs, a smile he’s not sure how to stop spreading across his face. There were intricacies to the story, details he would spare the Father about Foggy’s hands in his hair and laugh in his mouth, but all Lantom needs to know is, “I stopped begging for forgiveness. I think I might just be sick of it.”     Matt’s head was comfortably in Foggy’s lap when the man spoke. “Gift from God,” Foggy said out of the blue, scrolling on his phone. “What?” Matt asked. “That’s what your name means. Gift from God.” Matt grinned. Thought about a more complicated time. And shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right,” he laughed out.     “My grandma always said… she said, the Murdock boys, they’ve got the devil in them.” The woman in the seat across from him shifted uncomfortably, and he ducked his head, remembering how upset this story tends to make people. “I don’t think she was wrong,” he continued, much to Owen’s heart’s dismay. “I think she might have meant it wrong, but I saw my dad fight. Heard him fight, later, but I still remember that look in his eyes. And yeah, sometimes she called me a queer before I knew what it meant, and sometimes that’s what she meant, but… I don’t the devil made me gay. I think the Murdock devil, the anger in me, it might be the reason I’m alive. My dad’s fights kept food on the table when I was a kid. The ‘devil,’ the drive my dad passed down to me, it helps me protect people. Just because the Church is pissed off at me doesn’t make me evil.” He sat up straight, hands unclasped and free. “I don’t think I’m all that bad of a person.”     After the meeting, Matt went across the street and bought himself a hot pumpkin spice latte. His hands shook while he drank it, but he finished the cup before he got the nerve to leave the shop and head to the graveyard. Battlin’ Jack Murdock. It even said so on his headstone, according to the nuns. He’d never wanted to feel it for himself. But now he knelt down, his hands scraping against the rough stone, and he could make out the inscription beneath the name. “Loving father” was the only dedication they’d given him. “Hey dad,” he breathed out shakily. “It’s been awhile, huh?” A woman began crying in the distance. Matt steadied himself against the headstone. “I’ve been scared to come see you. I really have been. See, I’ve been dressing up as the devil at night and using those boxing skills you tried not to teach me to do it. And I’ve been hurting people, bad people, and you may have seen the world in black and white, but sometimes I wish you’d taken the blood money so you could have been here with me. There’s a lot of haze in the world. I’m trying to make it better, and I know you might now like the way I do it.” The grave was cool against Matt’s forehead, but he didn’t mind. “But it’s not that that makes me scared. I’ve been avoiding you because I don’t know how to ask for forgiveness from you. “Dad, you were right. I ain’t queer. But I am gay. And I think you’d be okay with that. But I have to accept that I’ll never know for certain. I can’t keep living my life trying to be you, not when you lived your life trying to make mine better than yours. It’s time for me to be okay with myself. When judgement day comes, when I see your face again… I have to know that no matter what you think of me, I’m good at what I do. And I’m good at being good, I think.” Matt stayed at the grave for a long time, head against the name of his father, before he finally stood. He needed to go home. Foggy was coming to his apartment tonight. It might be time to tell him some things.

Godric found his way to your side, linking his fingers with yours as you sat at the back of the room. While you were aware the action was meant to comfort, you were just as sure it was intended as a way for him to have a semblance of control over your actions. Neither he nor Eric would be pleased if you got yourself killed trying to save your mate from a similar fate. Your father and five other people took seats at the front of the room facing the rest of you. Eric stood in front of them, back to you. “Do you know why you are here, Mr. Northman?” Kibwe Akinjide asked. You shifted in your seat. Kibwe was the only other high-ranking member of the Authority in attendance. The others were in the ranks but not chancellors. Alonso was the only other face you recognized of those at the front of the room. “I was led to believe it had something to do with the execution of Sophie-Anne Leclerq,” Eric answered, his voice as even and flat as always. “Indeed,” Kibwe responded with a slight nod. “The true death of Ms. Leclerq—while necessary—has unfortunately left an opening in the power structure of Louisiana,” Alonso explained, his lips twitching slightly. “It is an opening the Authority wishes for you to fill.” You forgot to breathe for a moment as those words sunk in. King. They wanted him to be king. Your gaze darted to your father to find him pointedly not glancing in your direction. That slick son-of-a-bitch. You wondered briefly how long it would have taken him to come up with a reason to remove Sophie-Anne if she hadn’t provided one herself. Or maybe it would have been another king or queen closer to his home. He couldn’t maneuver you into a position of power, but Eric was another matter entirely. “Excuse me, Magister, but it sounded as if you said the Authority wishes me to fill Sophie-Anne’s position.” Eric had gone very still and his shoulders were tight. You could tell he wanted to turn around, to find you in the crowd, but he didn’t. “That is precisely what I said, Mr. Northman.” “Might I ask what makes me worthy of such an honor?” Eric asked. “Loyalty,” your father answered, his gaze finding you briefly as he did so. “You’re loyal to the Authority. You respect the traditions of our kind. I think we both know you could have been rid of Sophie-Anne long before now had you wished, yet you did not. Why?” He continued without giving Eric a chance to respond. “Because you respect the Authority and our decisions, Mr. Northman. Plus, you have the age, strength and cunning necessary to hold your territory and run it the way it should be run. So, do you accept?” “I would be a fool to do otherwise.” “Indeed, you would.” Roman gestured to either side of him. “All of those you see here are voting on behalf of one of the chancellors. Mr. Akinjide and myself will be casting our own vote as well as one for another member.” Your eyes never left your father as he called for the vote. Everyone voted yes except for one member. And just like that, your mate was king. As soon as everyone was dismissed, you were on your feet, dragging Godric along behind you as you made your way to where your mate and your father were deep in conversation with one another. Kibwe was quick to join you as well. “You might have mentioned,” you said through clenched teeth. “I might have but I didn’t.” Roman shifted his attention to the chancellor. “Kibwe, might I officially introduce my daughter’s mate and the new king of Louisiana, Eric Northman?” The other man’s eyes went wide and moved between you and your father. They then focused in on your hand holding Godric’s. Eric noticed and took your free hand in his before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I wasn’t aware that you were acquainted on a personal level with Mr. Northman, Roman.” Your father attempted to look surprised and failed miserably. “Didn’t I mention it? Careless of me.” “An oversight I’m sure,” Eric piped up. “It’s a relatively recent development.” You just shook your head and rolled your eyes. You weren’t even going to try. Everyone here knew your dad was full of shit. No, you bit your tongue until the last of the stragglers headed out the door, leaving you, Eric, and Godric alone with your father and Alonso. As soon as the door shut, you turned to the man that raised you. “So, that’s why you didn’t want me coming with Eric. You didn’t want anyone knowing what we were to each other until after the vote.” He smiled and poured drinks for all of you. After he passed them out, he gestured to the sitting area. After you were all settled, he leaned back in his chair. “Despite my position with the Authority, or maybe because of it, there are many who fear me gaining more power than I already possess. Several of them move behind the scenes, plotting, scheming. They think I don’t know. This was a countermeasure.” “I won’t be a puppet for anyone,” Eric said. His tone was soft, but you could hear the anger in it. “You would for her,” Alonso argued with a gesture to me. “I don’t want a puppet.” Your father spoke quickly before Eric could respond to the Magister. “Regardless of who you are to my daughter, I wouldn’t have even recommended you for the position if I didn’t think you capable of handling things on your own. There may simply be some things I need seen to on occasion. All within your purview as king, of course.” You pursed your lips. “What aren’t you telling us?” He didn’t answer, simply looking at you over the rim of his glass. “Sophie-Anne’s holdings are being transferred to you, Eric. The outstanding taxes were covered by the Authority,” Alonso stated. It was a blatant attempt to change the topic. One none of you fell for. Eric nodded in thanks but his gaze moved between you and your father. Finally, Roman sighed. “Can’t you believe I simply want to see you taken care of? That there is no ulterior motive?” “No.” Your mate and his sire donned matching smirks at that. Your father leaned forward and placed his glass on the table. “Alright. Perhaps there’s one thing I could use your assistance with.” You crossed your legs and leaned against Eric’s side. Here it was. Eric shifted so his arm was around you and he pulled you more tightly against him. Godric still held one of your hands. He was content to remain quietly in the background and you didn’t push. His continued existence was enough. “I would like to state that you could have assisted with this particular issue without being king. Though it does help.” As your father explained what he needed, your mind drifted. Eric was king. That made you queen for all intents and purposes. And Godric…what? The royal concubine? You snorted at the thought earning a disapproving glance from Roman who knew you weren’t paying attention. “Are we boring you, sweetheart?” You sighed. “To be honest, yes. You over complicate everything.” You tilted your head back to look up at your mate. He smiled and kissed your forehead. “What he’s trying to say is Russell Edgington is being a dick again and he’d like us to take care of it before he becomes a problem.” “If you insist on being impatient you can word it that way, yes,” your father said. Eric and Godric both chuckled. “Alright, Guardian, we’ll go to Mississippi to extend an offer of trade to my counterpart and see if we can figure out what he’s up to while we’re there,” Eric said, looking up. “Fantastic,” Roman said. “I shouldn’t think you’d encounter anything too difficult to handle.”

Travelling after the first night was a bit easier, but not completely. Mitsuri had tried to bring the three boys closer to the pillars, but both groups had been apprehensive. Despite the few nice moments, the tensions were still there, ever-present as they were all forced to be together at all times. The next night was uneventful, going very similarly to the first, with the two groups staying a certain distance from each other. Tanjirou knew that they could be trying harder, than it didn’t have to be like this, but somehow, he felt like he wanted them to try first. To earn their respect. It was always him trying to earn other’s respect, for once, he wanted someone else to have to earn his. The third day of the trip, Tengen, Mitsuri and Rengoku hung back a bit, talking with the three boys, attempting to get know them. It was nice to see them make an effort and Tanjirou couldn’t help but smile at Mitsuri talking at the box, not even caring that Nezuko was likely asleep. Every so often though, he would look forward and see both Sanemi and Obanai watching him, analyzing him like he was a puzzle they were trying to figure out. It was a bit unsettling, but he chose to ignore, figuring it was just them hating him like usual. As the group began to get tired from all the walking, Rengoku suggested they stop at the nearby town to get some food and take a break. As they walked over the ground, Tanjirou found himself overcome with a sense of familiarity, like he’s been here before. Finally, as they walked over the hill overseeing the little town, the redhead found himself stopping to stare. Home. They were going to stop in Tanjirou’s hometown. It’s been such a long time since he’s been here. It almost hurt to see just how little the town has changed while he was almost an entirely different person now. The buildings were all the same, the trees, the sound, everything. It’s almost as if nothing horrible had happened to his family, that they just on the mountain, safe and sound. Tanjirou felt himself tremble a bit. He missed home. He missed everything. Zenitsu and Inosuke had walked ahead, talking to Mitsuri and Tengen when Inosuke noticed Tanjirou wasn’t following them down the hill. “Kentaro! You coming?” The redhead snapped back, looking to his friend before nodding shakily, “Yeah…I am.” As they descended down the hill and into town, Tanjirou wondered if anyone would recognize him. He didn’t look that different, the only thing really different about him was his hair and the fact that he was older now. Did he even want to be recognized? What would he even say? Hey, I’m back, did you notice that my entire family died in a night? No, he couldn’t. He didn’t want them to recognize him. Tanjirou gulped as he stuck closer to Zenitsu, trying to blend into the middle of their group. They were already getting quite a bit of attention, with everyone’s colourful hair and swords contrasting with the generally black and browns of everyone else in town. He could see and hear the confused stares from the townspeople and he hid his face. He could hear questions of ‘who are those people’ and ‘does that boy look familiar to you’. Zenitsu watched him carefully before asking, “You recognise this place?” Tanjirou nodded, leaning a bit closer, “This…this is where I was born and grew up.” The blonde widened his eyes a bit before gently curling their pinkies together while everyone was busy ahead of them, “Are you okay?” Nodding, the redhead finally smiled for the first time since arriving back home, “I will be. I just…I never thought I’d come back, you know? I wonder if the house is still there. If anything has changed.” Zenitsu hummed before saying, “We’re taking a break here. We can go visit if you’re okay with that?” Tanjirou thought about it for a moment before smiling, “I’d like that.” As the group stopped in front of a decently sized soba shop, Tanjirou stepped away from the group with Zenitsu and Inosuke. “We’re going to go off somewhere else, we’ll meet you back here in a little while, okay?” Sanemi grunted, suspicious as he asked, “Where are you going? You going to get another demon for your collection?” Tanjirou glared, gritting his teeth as he replied, “I don’t have to tell you. Just trust that we’ll be back, okay?” He didn’t want to get an answer as he turned around and left with his friends in tow. It was strange to walk down the streets of the home he once loved with all his heart. Now all it did was bring painful memories. He sighed, he supposed it would be good to finally have some proper closure. As they arrived at the base of the mountain, Tanjirou found himself shaking again. Inosuke stared at the path, “So where are we going?” The redhead let out a held breath as he replied, “To my home.” His friend didn’t say much after that, picking up on the weight and heaviness of this. They walked up the mountain in silence, the dirt crunching under their feet. It was all too easy to remember those feelings. The fear he felt when he smelt blood, the sound of wind that rushed past his ears as he sprinted up the very same path, snow crunching under his feet. Now the snow was long gone, the path now lined with grass and flowers. The smell of blood that seemed to dominate the mountain that day was now replaced with the smell of flowers instead. As if nothing bad had happened here. Zenitsu was holding his hand fully, squeezing him to keep him grounded and not to fade into his memories. Tanjirou could only squeeze back as he walked forward and the roof of his home finally came into view. It was all still there. The house, the logs, everything. Tanjirou walked towards the house, touching the wooden walls reverently. Despite the lack of care for the past several years, it was all here. Tanjirou looked over to the graves he and Nezuko had made for their family. The stones weren’t there anymore but the mounds of dirt were now covered in grass and flowers. He walked over, standing in front of them and gently touching the purple flower that grew on top of his mother. This was what was left of her. Of any of them. Plants. The redhead began to shake violently, collapsing in front of the graves as he sobbed, letting himself mourn while his two closest friends stood behind him, Inosuke’s comforting hand on his head while Zenitsu kneeled next to him, holding his hand with a grip that warmed him. They listened to him cry and scream, watching as Tanjirou pressed his head against the grass. As Tanjirou slowly calmed down, he found himself wondering. Would they be proud of what he’s become? Would they think he’s doing the right thing? Would they support his decisions? He hoped so. As he stood back up, wiping away any stray tears, he could feel Zenitsu step closer. “Do you want me to do anything for you?” he asked, pressing his body close to his and Tanjirou sighed, leaning into it. “Just…don’t let go.” Inosuke looked at the flowers, leaning now and touching a pink one that was growing on one of the smaller mounds. He frowned and asked, “Should we clean this shit up? You know, make it look like a grave again?” Tanjirou hummed, staring at the beautiful flowers that had grown on the graves of his family and shook his head. “No. I think they’d like to be a part of the mountain. To let life be back here again.” The boar child nodded, taking off his mask and bowing his head in respect, something that they had taught him the first day they met. Zenitsu smiled as he and Tanjirou did the same, the feeling of closure running over him. Tanjirou turned his attention to the house and he walked over there, staring at the doorway. He stepped in, staring at the room. When they had buried their family, the thoughts of cleaning the house was far from their mind. They just needed to bury them and then Tanjirou had to take care of Nezuko. There had been no time to clean up the blood, that would’ve taken days. So, the blood stains were still on the walls and the floor, though faded. The smell of blood that had been so overwhelming at the time was now just…a hint. The vague sharpness being the only thing left. He touched the walls, a numb feeling in his gut. He walked through the house, passing the rooms that once held his family. Staring at the kitchen brought memories of cooking with his parents, the sounds of sizzling food on the fire as he tried to help by dropping food in the pot. He had wanted to help so bad and his father only laughed and picked him up. Memories of later, when it was now him having to pick up his siblings because they wanted to help too. The laughter of when Nezuko tried to cook something new and having it fail miserably. Walking further along, he touched the bedroom door of his little siblings, fist clenched. He couldn’t go inside. It would only make the memories of tucking them into bed all the more vivid, the sounds of their voices as they talked about their dreams that much clearer. Soon, he came across his room and opened the door, looking inside. He had never a materialistic type of person, so there was very little there. But seeing his futon, his closet where he kept the few clothes he had and the little decorations that he put up at the insistence of Takeo to make it livelier, he couldn’t help but lean into Zenitsu and Inosuke for comfort. It was all too real. He stepped in, walking over to the wall and touching the ribbons that he had hung. The little drum he used to play with was still in here, laying on the ground. He picked it up, shaking it as the familiar thump rang through the air. Biting his lip, he smiled down at it. He quietly slipped it into one of his bags and left. There wasn’t much else there. As they went through the house, Tanjirou finally made it to his parent’s room that led into the backyard. He opened in and walked in, opening the door to the back and sitting on the edge. Like his father used to do. Zenitsu and Inosuke sat on either side of him, quiet for him. A rare thing in their group. Tanjirou leaned his head on Zenitsu’s shoulder, a kiss being pressed against his forehead. “You know something…?” “What?” “I had always thought that I’d never leave this place. I planned to just…always take care of my family. It was my little siblings that had the dreams to travel and what the world had to offer. I was content to just stay here.” Tanjirou said, staring at the forest that was behind the house, “Weird how things work out, huh? Sometimes I wonder if I would be happier if I had stayed here. If none of it ever happened.” Zenitsu gently took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it before leaning closer, “Who knows, baby…? Maybe you might’ve, or maybe not.” The blonde sighed before saying, “Is it wrong of me to be…glad that things ended up the way they did? Because if they hadn’t, we might’ve never met. I would still be alone without you guys.” Inosuke grunted, leaning forward on his knees, “Who knows? We might’ve met, we might not have. It doesn’t matter now, because things are what they are. Can’t change it now. All we can do if just accept it and be grateful.” Tanjirou smiled a bit at that and nodded, “Yeah…I guess so.” The redhead turned his head to look at Zenitsu, leaning close and kissing him, nuzzling close, “I don’t think I would be happy without you guys in it. Eventually, I’d want to go out to do my own thing. It’d only be a matter of time. And then I’m sure I would meet you again.” Zenitsu laughed against his lips, pulling away and pressing kisses in his hair, “Yeah. I think if I were to guess…Inosuke would meet you first. Probably just running around in the wild and he would bump into you. And then you’d become instant best friends.” Inosuke snickered and kicked Zenitsu’s leg, “Yeah. And you two would meet in the grossest, cheesiest possible. Like in your dumb romance books, Zenitsu. You’d be crying or something and then trip over Tanjirou’s foot. And then your eyes would lock and it would be boom, in love.” The couple laughed a bit, Tanjirou hiding his face into Zenitsu;s chest. “That’s not even how it was like when we actually met. Tanjirou was mostly mad at me, I think.” Zenitsu said, making the redhead shoot up. “I was not! I was just…concerned.” “You were, you did not like me.” Tanjirou frowned, leaning back against Inosuke, “Well I didn’t entirely like Inosuke either, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?” Zenitsu grinned, “So you admit it!” Inosuke kicked his legs out, shrugging, “Well it doesn’t matter, cause now you’re so in love, it’s almost gross.” Tanjirou gasped, playfully offended, “What? I thought you wanted us to be together!” The green-eyed demon slayer crossed his arms, “Yeah, because you were moping! You wanted to be with Monitsu so badly! Of course, I wanted you to be together!” Zenitsu chuckled as he grabbed Tanjirou and pulled him close again, “I knew you loved me.” The redhead stared down at him before nodding, “Always.” Inosuke gagged a bit, standing up and walking into the house, “And that’s my cue to leave, you guys are gross.” Tanjirou watched him go with a giggle and turned to Zenitsu, who was now staring at him. He frowned and asked, “What?” “You’re just fucking pretty.” He flushed and he kissed his nose, “I missed hearing you say that.” The blonde giggled as he pulled Tanjirou onto his lap, “It’s only been a couple days.” “And I missed it. You’ve ruined me, Zenitsu. Now I can barely go a day without you holding me. Congratulations, do you feel proud of yourself?” Zenitsu hummed and kisses his neck softly, “I am, if it means you’ll have to stay forever.” “I already was.” The couple held each other, soaking up the love and the affection they couldn’t have before. They sat in quiet silence in Tanjirou’s childhood home. He looked into the house and wondered if he would ever settle down. “Zenitsu?” “Yeah?” “Would you want to settle down one day with me and have…have a family?” “What?!” The blonde shot back, a look of shock and embarrassment on his face as he grew redder. Tanjirou gulped at his reaction and rushed to fix it, “I mean you don’t have to, we don’t have to, it’s too early to even really talk about marriage let alone kids, I don’t even know if we can have kids anyway, it was just a question and-!” Zenitsu suddenly leaned in and kissed him hard, his arms wrapping around his waist, squeezing him tightly. Tanjirou felt a bit dizzy as they kissed, it was a bit rougher than usual as he groaned against the blonde’s lips. Pulling back, he felt breathless as Zenitsu gave him the most adoring look he’s ever seen. “Tanjirou, I…” he started to tear up, blushing as he covered his face with his hands, giggling through the crying, “I know it’s too early to be talking about marriage and kids but…” he sobbed a bit as golden eyes met ruby, “I think the idea of settling down with you and having a family, our own little family…that sounds wonderful.” The redhead stared down at him before he breathed out a sigh of relief and clung to him, laughing, “Little family? I want a big one! With tons of kids running around and having Inosuke and Nezuko play with them!” Zenitsu laughed and kissed Tanjirou deeply, pulling him up as they swayed together, “We’ll see.” For a moment, it seemed like they were having one of those moments that would make Tanjirou feel fluffy and warm for hours afterwards, until he smelt something…off. From the front of the house. Smells that shouldn’t be here. Not here. He pulled out of Zenitsu’s grasp and started running through the house, the confused sounds of his boyfriend fading behind him as he busted through the front door and stopped, gasping in horror. The mounds of dirt that held the beautiful flowers, the flowers that were made from his family, were dug up and on the ground, almost crushed under the pile of dirt. The smell of rot filled the air and it made him gag. And Sanemi and Obanai looking the guiltiest he has ever seen them as they stood over the graves of his family. Tanjirou shook with rage as he stepped out, gritting his teeth as he seethed out, “What are you doing here?” Sanemi gulped and stepped forward, “Kamado, it’s not what it looks like-!” “Then what is it?! Huh?! Because it looks like you all followed us when I told you not to then dug up the graves of my family!” Obanai tried to come close, as he said, “We…followed you and thought you had buried something you wanted to hide.” Tanjirou shook as he turned to the Pillars fully, stomping towards them, “How fucking dare you! I have at no point shown that I was untrustworthy! And yet you decide to follow me, invade my home and dig up my family because what?! You thought I was hiding something?! Yeah, I was! My dead family, you fucking pricks!” For the first time ever, Sanemi and Obanai looked extremely sorry. But Tanjirou couldn’t care less. The Wind Pillar stepped forward, trying to explain themselves, “Kamado, w-we thought that you were going to do something suspicious and we followed you, but…we didn’t know they were graves!” “It doesn’t matter if you didn’t know! You disrespected me, my sister and my entire family!” Obanai gulped as Tanjirou turned his gaze to him, stepping back, “We just…we thought you hid something under the dirt that would reveal a secret you were hiding from us.” “And what would that be, huh?! What did you think I was hiding?!” “Maybe something demon related, or records or like a love affair or something!” Tanjirou stopped, his heart seizing at the sound of love affair. They had suspected something. He stared down at the ground, shaking as he looked at the two of them, the people he hadn’t liked before but now…now he just wanted them gone. “Get out.” “Wh-?” “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!” Tanjirou screamed, shoving his superiors towards the path. The two of them didn’t say another word as they left and Tanjirou collapsed into a sob. Zenitsu and Inosuke quickly ran out, running to his side and hugging him tightly as he cried in their arms.   After a while, after they had done the best they could to fix the graves and put the flowers back, they arrived to the soba shop where they had meant to meet up with the Pillars again. Tanjirou still felt angry as Giyu approached him. “Tanjirou, we heard what happened. We didn’t know that they would do that, they told us they were going to go check on something.” He said, frowning, “Though I don’t like them, I…I’m sure they didn’t mean to do that to you and your family.” The redhead glared, “It doesn’t matter if they meant to do it, they did it. And I’m allowed to be mad about it, okay? They thought I have something to hide. And it doesn’t matter if I do or not, they shouldn’t have gone looking.” Giyu nodded, sighing, “I understand.” Tanjirou could see in the corner of his eye that the other Pillars were just down the street. Sanemi and Obanai weren’t meeting his eyes, staring at the floor in shame. Good.  He walked towards the group of Pillars, who looked more tense when he approached. Mitsuri pulled him into a side hug, mumbling apologies that really shouldn’t be coming from her. He walked ahead of all of them and said, “Let’s just leave.” For once, no one had any arguments as they followed. Zenitsu stood next to the redhead, sighing as he said quietly, “I’m sorry.” He reached and touched his shoulder, letting the anger in Tanjirou’s veins drain, allowing his head to think logically. “It really shouldn’t be you saying that. I…I think they know I’m hiding something. They just…guessed in the wrong place.” Tanjirou looked behind them, where Obanai and Sanemi hung in the back of the group, “I know they’re not bad people but…they crossed a line. I’m allowed to be mad about this, right? I’m not overreacting, am I? I know it was an accident and they were already suspicious of me because of Nezuko and I don’t blame them but…” “Tanjirou, you have every right to be angry at them right now. It’s okay to be angry.” The redhead sighed, “Okay.” He didn’t really want to think about it much, despite the way it permeating in his mind. He just wanted to leave.

The sound hardly carries but he hears it before his torch finds the huddled figure in the corner. It's Matt and he's whimpering and Frank's suddenly dizzy and the faded nausea comes back full force. He runs to him, throws himself on the ground and gets a look at him before he reaches out. His hands are against the sides of his head pressed against his ears and he's breathing too fast. The walls and floor are paved seamlessly with a thick, dull sort of rubber material, soft, giving under Frank’s feet, completely muffling every step and soaking up more sound than even the corridor had. "Matt, Matt ..." He flinches at the sound. Frank tries to keep his voice low but it's shaking. Matt's not wearing his suit, just an over large shirt and shorts. He looks too small. "Matt can I...are you..." Matt makes a choking pained sound and presses his head against the wall. Trembles, hiding against it, hands on his head. Oh. Frank gets it, all at once, rises and crosses the room as quietly as he can and shuts the door gently. He moves back to Matt and squats a little distance away. Tries not to be too loud but his heart is wrenching and he has to force his breathing to slow. Waits. Matt clears his throat, flinches, waits to get his breath back."F-Frank?" He says, voice a tiny croak of sound."Yeah." Frank says, voice lower than a whisper."Y'too loud." Matt's voice is shaking and weak but he sounds like he's trying to smile. He hasn't moved away from the wall, his hands are still pressed against his ears."I've been told that, yeah." Frank says. Matt doesn't flinch so much this time. "Sorry about the gunshot.""You smell like, like blood like a lot of..." He sounds so breathless and disorientated that Frank has to concentrate hard on breathing shallow and even."Frank she was here, F-Frank she… but she was quiet there was no noise there was… she didn’t smell right she…” His voice is going in and out, like he’s about to pass out."How long have you been down here?" Frank says softly."Don't know I don't..." He shakes his head against the wall. "It was so quiet, so quiet I didn't... Where are you I can't s-sense you are you here are you...""I'm real, God, Matt I'm real." Frank's voice cracks and he scrambles nearer. Doesn't know how to do this. Matt's terrified, Frank's never seen him like this. Not even close, Matt doesn’t stop for anything. Everything he knows about how to keep morale up for an injured man is useless, he’s not even sure Matt can take anything above a whisper. What can he do? There has to be something, has to be… panic is taking over now, his vision swims. No, no, Matt needs you. Hold it together. Frank grits his teeth and settles within arms reach of Matt but not any closer. Now he can touch the floor for himself, he can appreciate the problem fully. It's so soft that it barely has a surface, cushioning Frank’s hand without any obvious points of support, but not giving through to any discernible solid surface beneath. "I can hear where you are now." Matt sounds relieved, desperately so. "Can I touch you? Would that..." "Not yet I can't... Not yet." He takes a breath. "They uh, I followed him down here and... And felt this... There was a space and I thought maybe they were hiding something from, from Stick ... thought it might be her ..." He's breathing too hard now. Voice is faint and high. "Shh, Matt, listen to me you're safe." "Why is there s-so much blood are you..?" "It's not mine." Frank says heavily. "It was s-so quiet... I couldn't, I screamed I..." He drops his hands, one pressing against his chest, over his heart. "T-tried to break though the w-walls… I didn't... Everything was... It all moved and I couldn't… could only hear me- only my heart, only... There was..." His words choke off into a sob and the hand on his chest clenches into a fist. He reaches back towards Frank with his other hand, face screwed up and still pressed against the wall. Frank takes his hand first, Matt half jerks back as if he's touching something sharp and Frank keeps his fingers gentle. His hands are scraped and scratched and Frank has to steady himself, stroking his broken skin with light touches. Waits until Matt is relaxed against his fingers, moves his hand to his shoulder, tips Matt towards him. Matt's shaking at the sensation of touching him, like an exposed nerve, but he's clinging on regardless, presses his forehead against Frank's shoulder. Matt lifts his hand, feels Frank's face, strokes his head. The torch is on the ground now but enough light splashes from it to show Matt’s ruffled hair. His stubble isn't thick enough to cover the bruising on his face, he's pretty banged up. Blood spots the grey shirt from presumably a nose bleed, though his nose doesn't look too bad. An examination of any injuries is going to have to wait. "S'blood in your hair." He mumbles. "An' everywhere else." Frank agrees. He's afraid his harsh clothing is hurting Matt, imagining everything feels like sandpaper or worse by the way that Matt's body shakes against him. "Is this ok?" "Fuck, Frank you're here you’re warm, I don't care I don't care ..." He runs out of breath and tightens his hands with a desperate little sound that gets Frank holding him finally, hands on his shoulders, gentle, barely touching him. "We're gonna stay slow ok." Frank says and Matt nods against him. "We need to get out of here but it's gonna be loud alright.” “Just don't go please don't go-” His voice breaks. “M’right with you.” Frank promises gently. * Progress is slow. Frank doesn't want to touch Matt too firmly but he has to support him at times because the slightest sound jerks his limbs, saps the feeling from them. His heart is beating so hard Frank can feel it against his side. He hopes to God Matt doesn't have any broken ribs because in this state there would be no way to tell just by the way he's moving. The moment they step over the threshold and into the regular, unmuffled corridor, Matt lets out a strangled noise of alarm, loses balance and tightens his hands on Frank’s body. Frank stops them, lets Matt adjust.“We’re still pretty far underground, can you hear the street?” Matt’s shoulders twitch uncomfortably, Frank guesses with the reverberation of his words, but he shakes his head. Frank pauses. Matt is wildly overstimulated simply by Frank’s presence and the ability to hear the walls again, where can he take him that won't just hurt? Still, they can't stay here. Matt’s turning his head wildly, breathing too hard. After a few minutes of presumably listening, he seems to adjust somewhat."J-Jessica?” Matt’s tilting his head, face still bunched up with pain but he's at least trying to make sense of what he can hear. Turns his head sharply. “Stick’s here?”“S’how I found you.” Frank tells him, gets them moving again.“Gotta get t’my apartment.” Matt mumbles.“Sure that’s a good idea?” Frank says.“I know it I know the… Sounds I know it…” He loses his grasp on words again for a few panting seconds, then; “T-there's blood.”“Yeah.” Frank says. They're retracing their steps back through the battleground they had to get through on they way in. Matt jerks and pulls in Frank’s arms before Frank can hear them himself, a shout and a lot of crashing. They round the corner in time to see Jessica and Luke standing back to back surrounded by unconscious men.“Matt!” Jessica says, much too loudly, grabs a torch from the ground and makes towards him. Frank holds out a hand but Matt groans weakly, hands coming up to his head and the feeling leaves his legs. Frank manages to catch him and lower his body to the ground before he falls. He's looking greenish, face shining with sweat, head rolling slightly on his neck as if from a lack of balance. Frank crouches beside him, holds his shoulder, hopes that's a good thing to be doing.“What's wrong with him?” Jessica says, blessedly in an undertone.“Think he's in shock.” Frank says softly. Gives them a brief explanation. Luke’s looking grim by the time he's finished and Jessica just deeply angry.“You wear earplugs right?” Luke says. Reasonable as always.“If you say no I’m going to punch you in the face and tell Claire.” Jessica says, quieter than before. Frank gets a sudden violent urge to kick himself.“Matt, I’m going give you some earplugs, that ok?” He waits. Matt nods a bit. His eyes are twitching, breath ragged. Frank has to hold him still as he puts them in but when he’s done, Matt’s body relaxes just a little. “You good?” He says, Matt nods.“Thanks.” Matt just about manages a watery smile.“Fuck, you two are just obnoxiously cute.” Jessica says, barely audible. Matt coughs out a laugh and then appears to regret that immediately to the point of half collapsing against the wall behind him. His chin rests on his chest. Frank waits for Matt’s drooping body to revive a little.“Still with us?” Frank says. Matt’s breath shudders but he manages a slight nod. His eyes are pressed shut out of some vain instinct. “Who’s the quietest?” Frank asks carefully. Matt tilts his head, looking almost panicked that he doesn’t understand at first, but then he figures it out.“Luke.” He mumbles. Luke nods, steps forward without having to be told. Lifts him and lets him lean, supports his body.“Do we need to help Stick?” Jessica says to Frank, who occupies himself with making sure all of his weapons are in their proper places.“He’s ok.” Matt grunts out. “Coming to join us.”“Thanks.” Jessica says a little helplessly and gives Frank a look, flicking her head at the stone above them and back again. As per usual, understanding shoots between them. He’s not going to do well up there. Frank grimaces and looks away because it’s been lurking at the back of his mind like a sense of impending doom since he found Matt cowering in that room and it’s irrelevant because they have no choice. He shakes his head. Jessica reaches out and grips his arm. He tries to give her a smile but it doesn’t quite happen. Frank only notices Stick come up behind them because he was watching out. He nods to him, opens his mouth to explain what’s happening. "Come on Mattie stand up." Stick says briskly at regular speaking volume. Matt's head twitches from side to side and he lets out a noise, choked, he tries but Luke has to adjust his arms to take more of his weight. "On your feet." "Stick." Frank says softly. "Walk." Stick's too loud. "Quiet." Frank says, low but dangerous enough for Jess to give him a look this time. Stick ignores him, Frank's body burns with rage. He heaves in a breath, forces himself to calm, for Matt's sake. Stick takes a step towards Luke and Matt, who is grunting with the effort of trying to control himself. "S-Stick I c-can't..." His voice is strained and breathless. "Look your boyfriend doesn't know how his works so I'll-" Stick reaches a hand towards Matt and Jessica is suddenly there before Frank can figure out how to react without making too much noise. She catches Stick's hand. "Don't." She says, voice very quiet but with an edge. Frank wants to go to Matt but he's shifting, groaning quietly, looks like he's going to heave. "You know him." Luke says evenly. "You know he's not playing this up." "I know him better than you." Stick says, still too loud. Frank reaches for a knife. "Honesty I'm not sure why I had so many people down here to guard it." A ringing female voice comes from the gloom. Frank starts, sees Jessica and Luke freeze. Stick doesn't move. Matt shudders and tries to push Luke away. A woman steps into a mildly lit area of tunnel in their path, leading to the stairs. It's her. Something is wrong with her eyes, her mouth, but otherwise there is no evidence that she was ever dead. Frank can just see a few men behind her. "You are doing a very good job of getting ready to kill each other." "Bring it on, girly." Stick sounds tired. "We got through a whole bunch of your people to get down here." "Yes well I wasn't counting on you bringing friends." "That much is obvious." Her face is twitching. "So good to see you." She says, poisonously, terribly, eyes right on Stick. He crossed a line for you he broke it for you and you do this you do this.. . Frank's hand is clenching and unclenching on the handle of his combat knife. "Why did you hurt Mattie." Stick says, suddenly strangely calm. "Oh he kept trying to hurt my associates." She says dismissively. "He gave as good as he got I can tell you that much." "He means this." Frank growls, gesturing to Matt. "You left him in there." She zeros in on him, eyes narrowed. There's something deeply wrong, her eyes are dead, cold, shark-like. "Are you Frank? " She asks, her voice is viciously smooth. Matt makes a pained sound and tries to pull away from Luke. "Who's asking." "His previous squeeze." She says with a sickly smile. "He spoke of you rather a lot in there. I'm honestly shocked, I was expecting someone more... Well, soft." She spits the last word. "That what you are?" Frank says, keeping his voice at a whisper. He bares his teeth at her a little. "Soft?" She shrugs, eyes landing on Matt who is panting, angrily, helplessly. "I honestly didn't realise it would have such... Effects." A flash of something more human passes over her face. Confusion almost. Close to pain. Somehow that just pulls out something heavier, angrier from somewhere inside Frank. "Yeah well we all make mistakes." He has his rifle levelled at her but doesn't remember raising it. She tuts a few times. "Oh Frank I think you know better." "Try me." She claps her hands. Once. Loud and sharp. Matt yells faintly. The feeling goes out of his legs and he would have dropped if not for Luke. "Let me go m'gonna t-throw up-" Matt gasps and Luke lowers him to the ground. "It's ok, just breathe, we're getting you out of here." Luke tells him gently, crouched next to him. "Lower the gun, Frank." Elektra claps again. Matt moans and drags himself to the wall, leans there on all fours, shaking violently. Frank forces himself to lower it. Can't do that to Matt. "Good boy." Elektra says. She leans her head and scoops her hair around to one shoulder, smiling at Frank as she does. "Look at all of you, rallying around my poor Matthew." Frank catches Jessica in the corner of his eye, shaking with anger. "Why would you do this." She spits out each word in a furious hiss. "How could you?" She takes a couple of angry steps towards Elektra. "He's not yours ." "And you feel he belongs to you?" She doesn't look at Jessica, eyes still focused on Frank. "Get out of our way." Jessica's voice has gone flat now, somehow more dangerous. Elektra laughs. "Oh I wasn't planning on staying. I only wanted to drop in, take a look all my unexpected guests. I had hoped Stick would be staying, but I know my boys are a little easier to dispose of if they can be seen. That will have to wait. As I say, I was not expecting friends ." "Until next time, Ellie." Says Stick and a sudden spark of anger contorts her features. "See you soon." But there's something more childish and less threatening about her words as she stalks away. She leaves them some men who put up a significant fight, or maybe it's just because they're all trying their hardest to keep quiet. They flee rather than finish the fight, presumably left behind to give Elektra a comfortable stretch of time in which to leave. They give Matt a few minutes, until the sounds of fighting have stopped making him twitch and shudder. Luke helps Matt to his feet. He's managed not to throw up at least, but there's a defeated sort of slump to him now. "I'she g-gone?" "She's gone." Frank says, touches his shoulder lightly. Stick's thankfully quiet now. Doesn't try to push Matt again which is a relief because Matt looks so utterly miserable that all three of them may well have attacked him if he had. Jessica looks about ready to punch something. Frank has no doubt that nothing much would survive it if she did. "This ok?" Luke asks, carefully arranging his hold on Matt. He nods a few times. "Y-yeah s'fine thank you, thanks." "Good to move?" He nods again. The journey above ground takes longer than he journey down just on account of the stairs. Luke has no trouble carrying Matt, he hardly slows them down at all. At least until he gets within hearing range of the street. It slowly tenses his body, the higher they go. Frank's stomach turns helplessly, watching the world above gradually overwhelm Matt's already shaky grip on himself. He was faint to begin with, so it's no surprise when, close to the surface when even those of them with regular human hearing can begin to hear the traffic and the car horns, he breathes too fast, sobs, shudders and goes limp. It's probably the kindest thing his body could have done. Jess takes over then, throwing him over her shoulder to give Luke a break. He falls back to walk in step with Frank. "You doing ok?" Luke says, unexpectedly. Frank turns to him, doesn't know what to say. He's covered in blood, exhausted, probably looks more dead than alive. He's hardly thought about himself since finding Matt beyond how much noise his body has been making. Suddenly each step feels like a battle against gravity. It hardly matters though, because it's nothing compared to the searing worry clawing at his lungs. He nods eventually. "Yeah s'just, you know what he's like." "Yeah. He's gonna be ok." Luke says with complete and total certainty. Frank tries a smile. * Stick takes his leave when no one is looking which is probably sensible of him. Matt is still thankfully dead to the world by the time they bundle him into his apartment through his roof access. Frank gets him into some silk pants and into his bed as efficiently as possible, checks the ear plugs (probably less than useless but he can't think that taking them out will help) and joins the other two in Matt's living room. "Go home." Frank tells them. "It's late. I'll call you if there's trouble." "You're ready to drop, Frank." Jess says, more gently than she usually takes it upon herself to point out Frank's own exhaustion. "S'fine I'm gonna call in some backup." Elektra was right about one thing, Frank is not soft, he's rough and harsh in every way that Matt doesn't need right now. Frank climbs out to the roof before making the call, as if that distance makes much difference to Matt at the best of times. "Nelson." He says as soon as he hears the line pick up. There's a breath and a pause. "Frank?" Foggy sounds as tired as Frank feels, but his voice isn't distorted by sleep. Frank hasn't woken him. "We got him he's... Safe." "You do?" Foggy lets out a sudden splutter of relieved laughter. “Why d'you say it like that?" Foggy moans. "Do I need to call Claire?" "Maybe." Frank says. He explains, tries to blunt the scope of it by making it as brief as possible but there's not much to be done in the way of making 'four days of sensory deprivation' sound less damning. Foggy curses unintelligibly when Frank's finished, voice choked. "How is he now?" "Unconscious. Passed out before we got up to street level." "Should I be there? If he's..." "He slept in the same room as you for... How long is law school?" Frank blinks tiredly. "You're familiar. You're his best friend, Foggy." And you're softer than me. Frank wants to say. Soft like Matt's sheets, careful in a way that Frank can't reach no matter how hard he tries to. But it wouldn't sound right, so he just lets his plea and Foggy's nickname hang in the air until Foggy's sigh rustles the speaker. "I'm coming. Now." * "You need to take a shower, man." It takes Foggy wincing as he looks at him to remind Frank that he's covered from head to toe in blood. "Right. Yeah, don't wanna... Wake him." Frank says. Foggy glances in the direction of Matt's bedroom, sighs heavily. "Don't think he's waking up any time soon." Frank showers and changes into some spare clothes he left last time he was here. It was barely a week ago, feels more like years. When he comes out of the bathroom Foggy is slumped on the sofa, staring across the room, eyes unfocused and dull."When did you last sleep?" Frank says. Foggy's brow furrows, he shrugs."Looking at you? More recently than that." Frank can't argue with him on that one. Foggy puts his head back and closes his eyes. "Sit down before you fall down." Frank shuffles his feet a bit."Shouldn't stay." He says, hating the words. Foggy's head shoots up."What?" He says, not sharp, just surprised."He's... I'm loud.""Frank." Foggy says, serious, looking right at him. "Even I can hear the television on in the apartment below us, there's probably four family domestics happening in this block alone and there's sirens outside." He sucks in a breath through his nose. "I don't think one more heartbeat will hurt." Frank looks away, head turns nervously from side to side. Can't shake that look of pain on Matt's face when Frank was the only deafening thing he could hear. "This isn't your fault." Foggy says sharply. "He'll want you to be here when he wakes up. How many times have you slept together now?" He grimaces. "I mean in the same room I don't wanna know about the other stuff." Frank forces himself to breathe as close to normal as possible, shrugs."Few times.""Who wakes up first?""Sometimes I do sometimes Matt." His voice caves in on his name."Then sit down. Sleep if you can. Even you can't be that loud when you're unconscious."

Sansa barely left her room in the following days. It wasn't as if Margaery were sending for her, not to liaison in their chambers, not to eat or sew with her and her ladies. And it wasn't as if there was anyone else in King's Landing who was willing to damage their reputation enough to spend time with Sansa Stark. She swallowed hard as Shae entered her chambers to change her bedding. Sansa was hard at work pretending to read a book about marital law, but they both knew her heart wasn't in it. She hadn't turned a page in the past hour. Shae moved around Sansa's chair, to the bed, and began stripping it. Sansa was abruptly reminded of the morning after she and Tyrion's wedding, when Shae had checked the bedding and realized that they hadn't consummated their marriage. It was on the tip of Sansa's tongue to ask whether Shae had seen Tyrion recently, whether he was all right. She didn't know what was holding her back. "Why don't we go down to the harbor?" Shae asked, hands full with Sansa's sheets. Sansa glanced up listlessly from her book. "What?" she asked. She didn't think she had gone to the harbor since that day when Margaery had kept her from trying to escape. Well, there was the time she had escaped with the Martells, but that hadn't been Sansa Lannister, that had been Sansa Stark. She swallowed. "I'm not feeling well enough," she told Shae, painfully aware of how much of a lie the words sounded. Shae harrumphed. "Perhaps some fresh air might help," she suggested, in a tone that seemed to believe Sansa wasn't going to change her mind, anyway. Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. "Maybe tomorrow," she said. Shae hesitated, and set the bundle of sheets back down on the bed. Sansa felt her heart leap up to her throat as the woman sat down on the bed across from her, stared at her. Sansa fidgeted under the scrutiny, setting down the book she wasn't really reading, anyway. "Sansa..." Shae chewed on her lower lip. It was something Margaery did every time she hesitated over something, and Sansa hated that this was her first thought, seeing it. She felt her stomach twist as the silence drew on. "If you want to talk, about anything," Shae started, but Sansa cut her off, suddenly frightened even if she didn't know why. "I'm fine," she stammered out. "I just...I just want to be left alone." Shae shook her head, some of her dark hair spilling in front of her face. "I know it can feel like that, but I worry about you. We don't even need to talk about..." No, she knew why she was worried. If Shae was able to figure out what was wrong so easily, who else would be able to take one look at Sansa's face and figure that out, as well? Sansa swallowed. "I said I didn't want to talk about it, Shae," she snapped, and instantly felt guilty as Shae's face closed off, the way Margaery's had before she demanded Sansa get out of her chambers. Shae nodded, stood to her feet. She picked up the bundle of sheets. "Well, if you ever change your mind..." Sansa felt another hot spike of guilt. Shae was struggling as much as she; she knew that, what with Tyrion locked away. Like Sansa, he had been one of her only protections here in King's Landing. "Shae," she started, and when Shae looked back at her hopefully, she could only manage to get out, "thank you." Shae hesitated again, and then reached out and clasped Sansa's hand in her own. "It's going to be all right, Sansa," she said softly. "You'll see." Sansa felt wetness accumulating behind her eyes. "How can you say that?" she asked, before she could stop herself. Shae's gaze softened. "I'd better take these," she said. "What with Tyrion..." she swallowed. "The servants are not quite as understanding," she said, and Sansa swallowed, miserable, then nodded. "Of course," she said, and watched Shae go. She barely made it to the chamber pot in time when the door closed after Shae. She sat over it, dry heaving and shivering, for a long time, hot black spots appearing in her vision. She rubbed at her barren stomach as it cramped painfully. It seemed she was destined to destroy every good relationship in her life, she thought miserably. And that thought had her getting up to her feet, reaching for her ratty shawl and pulling it around her shoulders. Shae was right. She couldn't keep sitting in this room, this room that she used to share with her husband, near this bed she used to share with Margaery. She walked out of the room, ignoring the looks of the servants she passed in the hall, ignoring the careful way that the lords and ladies she passed didn't look at her. She didn't know where she was going; only that she couldn't bear the thought of the harbor, and she couldn't bear the thought of remaining in that room. That was all that mattered. And that was how she found herself standing outside her old chambers, the ones she used to have before she was married to Tyrion. Sansa stared at the old door that didn't look like it had been opened since the servants had moved her things out of it, took a deep breath. She wasn't even sure how she had ventured this far, to the other end of the Keep, without passing Margaery or one of her ladies- No, she couldn't think of that. Sansa tried the door, was surprised to see that it was unlatched. It pushed inward, and, after a brief hesitation, Sansa stepped inside, pulling her shawl a little more tightly around her shoulders. The room was just as she had left it, covered in a layer of dust now, but the same. She wondered at that, wondered if the Lannisters simply hadn't had any other guests that they felt the need to give these chambers. She swallowed, thought of how she had sat here with her septa, complaining about how boyish and childish Arya was, complaining about the fact that her father wanted to leave King's Landing without letting her marry Joffrey. She swallowed thickly, and thought she would give anything to return to those days. Anything. Sansa swallowed, walking over to the banister looking over King's Landing and looked out it, clutching the railing in an iron grip. She closed her eyes as she could practically hear her father speaking over her shoulder, asking her if Joffrey made her happy, to be a bit kinder to her sister. She missed being Sansa Stark so much, missed being the naive little girl who thought all princes were kind and good, and that all queens were gentle and compassionate. She missed being the little girl who had a mother and a father, and who thought these chambers were beautiful and so far above her own, in Winterfell. Sansa closed her eyes, breathed in the room, and imagined for a moment she was breathing in something of the Sansa Stark of old. The girl who wouldn't have cared to go to Dorne at all because of the warnings her septa had always given her about it, who would have been happy to be only Margaery's friend and who would never have lost her in such a way. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and brushed at it furiously. When she opened her eyes, she was met by a mop of blonde hair, and Sansa jerked, momentarily not recognizing Tommen, and seeing someone else. She wondered for a moment what in the seven hells he was doing here, why no one could just leave her in peace. When she blinked again, he was still standing in front of her. "Hello, Tommen," Sansa said, forcing herself to smile at him. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." She hadn't been expecting to see anyone here, in Sansa Stark's old chambers. Had been counting on it, in fact. That was, she realized, why she had come here. Tommen smiled, face wan. "I wanted to see the sunset," he said. "I can't see it very well, from my room." Sansa squinted at him, and then turned to look out over the city again. He was right, she realized. This room had a spectacular view of the sunset. She remembered standing on this very railing as Joffrey, making effort to be a charming prince, had given her a necklace and smiled at her as if he really loved her. She wanted to laugh at that naive girl, wanted to be her again. "Oh," she said, for lack of a better word, and Tommen smiled. "It's beautiful," he told her, and Sansa forced herself to nod, even if she thought it looked like blood. Tommen was not put off by her strange behavior. "Mama used to say that it was golden because it belonged to the Lannisters," he said. "Golden like lions, because the coming day was ours." Sansa almost smiled at that. "That's pretty," she said instead. Tommen nodded, hugging himself a little. Sansa remembered that his mother had barely acknowledged him at that horrible supper Joffrey had forced her to attend, too busy glaring at Margaery and likely plotting her demise. "Do you come here often?" she asked him. Tommen flushed a little at being caught out. "Yes," he said. Sansa smiled. "Can I join you, sometimes?" Tommen swallowed, shrugged his small shoulders. "These are your rooms," he told her. Sansa felt her lips pulling down, at those words. "They were," she corrected him. "Not anymore." Tommen glanced up at her. "Won't they be again though, when Uncle Tyrion...?" he trailed off, lower lip wobbling. Sansa looked away, unable to stomach the sight. "I don't know," she told him, and that much was true. She looked out over the banister. "The sun's set now, anyway," she said. "Oughtn't you to be in bed?" She wondered where his nannies were, that they hadn't noticed he was gone. Tommen shrugged. "I suppose," he said. Sansa reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, only realizing after that this was an imposition. He was a prince, after all, neglected or not. "Come on," she said, letting go of him. "I'll walk you."

“...This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?” Yoongi asks hesitantly. “The other guys, they’re not, like...pulling a prank on me or something?” After his relatively uneventful school day, Yoongi was called to the gymnasium. He wasn’t sure why. Is it because he’s been slacking off during gym? It’s true that he tries to put in the least amount of effort possible in every activity, but he didn’t think that was enough of a reason to get in trouble. He was surprised to see the gym occupied by not only the football coach, but also several of the guys he remembers seeing at tryouts a few days ago. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this meeting is about the football team. Yoongi was expecting to be called over to the gym to be let down and told that he didn’t make the team. He was awful at pretty much all of the activities on the day of the tryouts, so he wasn’t exactly betting on making the team. It was mainly just something new to try, really. But then he saw Jackson talking to a few of the guys. There is no way this is a group of people who didn’t make the team. Jackson was way too talented to not make the team; besides, it seems like the coach really favors him as well. So...did Yoongi actually make the team? Or is this some kind of cruel practical joke? He doesn’t mind being made fun of, really. He knows that he sucked at the tryouts. Maybe everyone in the gymnasium except for him made the team and he was only called over here as an example of what not to do. That would make more sense, honestly. “Congratulations, everybody,” the coach said once everyone appeared to be in the right place. Yoongi had seated himself further away from the rest of the guys. The only one he might consider sitting next to was Jackson, but he seemed to be preoccupied with his other friends. “If you’re in this room, that means you’ve made the team. Now, we’ll go over practice hours and dates. Next week, we’ll...” Yoongi couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he, apparently, made the team somehow. Even after his epic failure of a tryout, he made the team? It just couldn’t be possible. The only part of the tryout he did somewhat okay in was when he practiced throwing with Jackson, but that couldn’t possibly constitute making the team if he sucked at everything else. So, he raised his hand. He knew that he would probably get yelled at for interrupting the coach and dragging the meeting out for longer than necessary, but he couldn’t help but ask. He needed to know what was going on because nothing made sense right now. After he asks his question, the coach goes silent and looks him in the eye. Yoongi averts his eyes quickly, unable to handle the sudden direct eye contact. “I have my reasons for putting each and every one of you on the team,” the coach says. He speaks slowly, as though his words would be too difficult for Yoongi to understand otherwise. “That includes you, Min. If you don’t like my decision, you can leave now before you waste any more of my time.” That makes Yoongi think. Does he want to be on the team? It sounds like a lot of work and he didn’t think he would even make it in the first place. It was just a silly idea he thought of one day to get him prepared for future events that would be even more outside of his comfort zone (which is already very limited to begin with). So...does he want this? He could leave right now, like the coach said. He could simply walk out of the gymnasium and he would never have to think about football or even sports in general for the rest of the year. That would save him a lot of time and energy as well. He wouldn’t have to spend hours practicing for games he doesn’t really care about, and he’s sure his body would thank him for that. Even with the logical, reasonable parts of his mind telling him all of this, there is still one important factor that’s preventing him from simply getting up and leaving: Taehyung. Jackson is on the team. If Yoongi is on the team as well, then he’ll be able to help Taehyung with the boy he likes. He is Taehyung’s wingman, after all. He can tell his brother what the guy is up to, what he’s saying about him, and other important stuff like that. But is it worth all of the hassle being on the football team will bring? He isn’t sure yet. Because Yoongi isn’t able to come up with a definitive answer yet, he stays seated. He’ll still be able to leave the team if he decides against it, after all. The coach seems pleased to see him remain in his seat, but Yoongi can tell that there is more that he wants to say than time will allow for now. The coach goes over the practice schedule, which is Monday through Thursday from three to five o’clock. Not that bad, Yoongi thinks. At least it isn’t unbearably long. At least he won’t have to practice on weekends. Maybe the other guys will, but he definitely isn’t planning on working any harder than he has to. There are some dues for being on the team, which Yoongi doesn’t think will be a problem. Jin and Namjoon have some funds set aside for the boys and their extracurricular activities, so they should be able to cover it. What Yoongi is worried about, though, is the uniform. The uncomfortable shoulder pads, the itchy mesh, the tight helmets, the dreaded jockstrap. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to handle that much physical discomfort on top of the loud players, shrieking whistles, and screaming students. It might be too much stimulus and he could potentially have a meltdown on the field. He might be able to deal with one or the other—either the uniform or the noises—but both sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. After the coach finishes his lecture about dues and practice hours, he calls Yoongi over while all of the other boys are free to leave. Now he’s pretty sure he’s in trouble. “You asked if this was a joke, Min,” the coach says. He seems unusually stern, but Yoongi isn’t sure why. Is he always like this? “You were pretty useless at the tryouts, I must admit. You had some of the lowest times and distances I’d ever seen. And yet, you worked perfectly with Jackson Wang.” Oh. Is this some kind of a compliment, then? Should Yoongi thank him? No, he decides to stay quiet until the coach is finished. That’s probably the best idea in this situation. “You two make an excellent pair,” the coach continues. “Jackson has never worked so well with another player in his life, and I could tell just from the tryouts that you two have great teamwork. That’s why I chose you, Min.” That settles it, then. Yoongi will stay on the team. He’s doing this for Taehyung. ~ At the same time that Yoongi was called to the gymnasium, Jimin was called to the auditorium. His heart is pounding and his thoughts are racing through his mind at a million miles per hour. This means that he’s made the dance team, right? Either that, or they’re calling him over to tell him that he failed to make the team. Jimin is fine with either, actually. Even if he failed, him being called back means that he was memorable, at the very least. “Hey, Jimin,” Chungha greets as soon as he walks through the door. The has that smile on her face again; it looks sweet, but he can tell that there is an underlying determination and drive in it. “We have some good news for you.” Jimin wants to ask if it’s about making the team, but he knows that’s probably not the right thing to say in this situation. So, he waits until Chungha tells him herself. “Congratulations, you’ve made the dance team.” Jimin is jumping with joy on the inside. He knows he’s smiling widely and he can’t contain his excitement, but he doesn’t care. Finally, he was able to achieve this. He really, really wanted this. All of his hard work and effort finally paid off. He made the team! Maybe he’ll be accepted now. “Thank you so much, Chungha,” Jimin replies, overwhelmed with happiness. “I’ll work hard and I won’t let you down.” The girl seems pleased by his comments and she smiles again, much more genuinely this time. Jimin thinks he could be good friends with the girl if given the opportunity. “No need to thank me,” she says. “Your talent speaks for itself. I look forward to seeing what you can do for our team. I’m a senior, so this is my last year as captain. I’m looking for someone who can take over my position and, well, that someone could be you if you impress us.” Wow. Jimin almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only is he officially a member of the dance team, he could also potentially be the captain starting next year? It feels so surreal that he discreetly pinches his arm to make sure he’s not dreaming. “It’s amazing that you’ve never taken formal dance lessons before,” Chungha says. “I’ve trained for years and you’d probably be on the same level as me in a few years. You have an amazing natural talent, Jimin. Not many people have that.” When Jimin gives her a questioning look, she says, “Anyway, I wanted to tell you about our practice schedule. We meet in the auditorium every day after school except for Fridays, and practice lasts two hours. If the theater kids need the auditorium, then we go to the gymnasium if there isn’t a home game. It’s basically the same schedule as the football team.” The football team. Jimin remembers hearing Yoongi’s name being called earlier that day around the same time he heard his own name. Maybe Yoongi made it on the football team after all. That would certainly be interesting. If Jimin makes it on the dance team and Yoongi makes it on the football team, Jimin will be able to perform at his brother’s games. That would definitely make things more exciting, especially if Hoseok is going to cheer them on as well. “Thank you, Chungha,” he says again. “I know you told me not to thank you, but I feel like I need to. This is something that I’ve really, really wanted, and I didn’t think I would actually be able to achieve this goal. So...thank you so much for making that dream of mine a reality.” Chungha laughs a little, looking down as if his words embarrassed her. They might have, he realizes, because she has a faint blush on her cheeks. “You’re pretty cool, Jimin,” she says. “I don’t usually say this to new members, but if you ever want to eat lunch with us, you’re free to sit at the table with me.” She pauses, then says, “Okay, that’s pretty much everything. I don’t want to keep you for too long. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy your time on the team.” Jimin is sure that he will. He wanted this more than anything, and it’s finally appearing to become a reality. He’s so happy that he made the dance team, Hoseok made the cheerleading squad, and Yoongi might have made the football team as well. Even though he wishes that Taehyung could have been a part of some team as well, he knows that his brother has his sights set on one thing and one thing only. He respects that, but he also wishes he could spend more time with him than he already does. They haven’t spoken since the argument, and Taehyung won’t even sit with him at lunch anymore. He’s probably with Jackson instead, he thinks bitterly to himself. Jimin isn’t sure whether he approves of Jackson yet. He doesn’t know that much about him, and even though he seems to be nice enough, appearances can be misleading. Well, whatever, Jimin thinks. He’ll give Taehyung the space he needs to think things through for now. At least he has another group of friends to sit with at lunch until he works things out with Taehyung. At least someone else wants him.

Bucky Barnes was looking to scratch a very particular itch. Because the medical community at large stated that it was “unhealthy” for Omegas to go without experiencing heats completely and the government supported them (of course they did, the bastards were all about the benefits of population increases) regulations mandated that Omegas on suppressants had to do two to three years on, one off to stay healthy and not risk lasting and/or permanent fertility side effects. Bucky figured it was all bullshit, but he couldn’t exactly say he didn’t feel a hell of a lot more normal off them than on. The only issue of course being he got shit done when he was on them, and ended up with half a year worth of hell trying to balance his life when he was off them. This time around he was actually looking into a more scheduled approach to the year’s heats. Generally when they came he spent a week riding highs and lows as his hormones took over his body’s natural processes. He’d swing wildly between horny as fuck and feeling like shit, ready to jump anything with a knot the closer his body got to full estrus. He was generally needy as hell for about three days where he needed constant attention of all types, before his body began to wind down. Not so amusingly, he was horniest just before full heat hit him and right after it swung down toward completion. When he was younger he’d go find the most swaggering Alpha cock he could locate and lose himself in a few days of heat induced rut. He’d come out the other end heat neatly cared for, but feeling hollow and empty as if something were missing. Even when he was a complete idiot and risked breeding the release of Alpha semen inside him couldn’t quite sate the gnawing disquiet that would settle in after. Something entirely unrelated to his (thankfully) continually unbred status. He’d tried toys when hunting for Alphas ended up more trouble than it was worth and he felt he could better satisfy himself. Most Alphas could be really fucking selfish when it came to pleasure, especially when they rode it out with an Omega in heat - which just seemed counter productive in Bucky’s opinion. He’d thought if he took his own pleasure in hand it’d work out better. After all, he knew what he wanted and how he liked it. He was perfectly capable of satisfying himself when he was on suppressants, so he didn’t see why he’d have any issues doing similarly when he was off them. When that didn’t work, he’d tried a pleasure den. The less said about that the better. He’d tried substituting with Betas using Alpha enhancements. They were a lot more attentive lovers, better able to keep their heads in the proverbial game. But there was something about the entire process that just seemed...off. Betas didn’t have the same natural instincts as Alphas and Bucky found himself quickly growing frustrated with having to explain himself, his wants and needs. He’d even tried sharing a heat cycle with another Omega once. It hadn’t been a bad year, but it hadn’t been the best either. And there was a moment there in the middle where they’d managed to sync and had been forced to find an Alpha willing to take them on together. Bucky dissolved that relationship as quickly as possible. So, he tried to stay on his suppressants for as long as he was able and would put off thinking about his heats until the last possible second when he was confronted by them. The problem, of course, was that the longer an Omega went suppressing their heats, the faster and harder the first came when the suppressants went away, as if their body was violently protesting or actively punishing them for simply trying to live their goddamn lives. Since he’d pushed it a little too far this time around, he’d been forced to use some of his precious hoarded vacation time in order to not have to scramble for a solution for his first heat of the year. He’d taken a week before his heat was scheduled to arrive and was using it to try to establish some kind of support network for himself. His best option, all told, would be to simply contract an Alpha through an agency. And while this sounded like the best possible solution, Bucky found it was also the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever had to contend with regarding his heats. He had a government sanctioned Alpha stipend he’d never touched from his time with the Army. (They may prefer Alphas and Betas for grunt work, but special forces was almost entirely Omega based and Bucky was one of the best.) And he figured they owed him the stability in his life since they were the ones that got him hooked on the best fucking suppressants on the market. His Omega Vet ID he found, much to his satisfaction, was accepted on a little more than half the sites he visited. With some of them on the higher end even, as a sort of government write off he figured. He didn’t much care about the technical stuff; that would be handled by his OVID provider network. What Bucky cared about was finding a good match for himself. He scoured site after site, clicking his way through profiles and photographs. Some sites were more in depth than others, providing Alpha’s cock sizes and knot circumferences if not outright equipped with pictures. Bucky was aware that sort of thing mattered to some Omegas, but in his experience the Alpha’s personality was a better test of how they’d handle a heat than the size of their dick. He was three days in and starting to feel like the whole damn thing might be a bust when he noticed a ‘Favorites’ category on his current agency homepage. Curious, he clicked it and found a ‘Top Twenty’. It was all pictures with profile links but that wasn’t what got Bucky’s attention. No, the Alpha at the top of the list was in an entirely separate category and that got Bucky’s attention. The site encouraged its patrons to leave reviews - which Bucky fucking loved because reviews were God’s gift to people - and offered specially awarded extra stars to Alphas with impeccable reputations. All Alphas on the site were graded on a scale of stars which allowed for half fills and maxed out at five. Bucky knew in order to be awarded additional stars, an Alpha needed a fuck ton of pushes from patrons specifically requesting them. He didn’t know how many exactly, only that it was virtually impossible to even get an extra star without probably every single Omega reviewing them positively. The Top Twenty consisted entirely of only fully filled five starred Alphas. Alphas who hadn’t received a single negative review. Some of the top ten had an additional star, surrounded by a glowing outline as if you wouldn’t be able to recognize their superiority based on the additional star alone. The site’s highest rated Alpha however, and the guy whose profile sat at the very top of the page, completely separate from the rest had a whopping eight stars. Bucky found himself wondering just how many Omegas the guy had fucked over the course of his employment in order to get eight stars. Eight stars in Bucky’s opinion meant he knew how to work with what he had and what he had was likely damn impressive. Still, he clicked the profile more out of the endless sea of reviews (two hundred and eleven to be exact) than because of the stars. He’d gotten used to reading the reviews where he could before even looking at the Alpha in question. It didn’t do to allow for attraction to take the wheel if the guy was a dick, and Bucky was specifically looking for someone who’d help him take control of his life this year. Professional and competent and on fucking time. He read every single review. There were pros and cons attached to each one in reference to the Alpha in question and an additional section with twenty subcategories which were also rated with stars. These capped out at the standard five, but the Alpha whose profile reviews Bucky was reading had a full set whenever someone filled them out, consistently. From what Bucky could see, the guy was practically a paragon of Alphahood; the only real complaints (and they were also consistent) centered around the fact that he did not provide breeding services. Bucky wasn’t baby crazy by any stretch of the imagination - though he did want them and was feeling the pressure to have them, both by society and his family, and his own biological clock; at thirty he was hitting his prime breeding years and his body was very interested, constantly supplying him with dreams and daydreams and entirely too emotional responses to cherubic little faces, even when he was personally adamantly against raising pups on his own. Plenty of Omegas were single parents these days. Choosing to be bred during a heat by an Alpha of their choosing and then subsequently releasing the Alpha of the responsibility so they could go about their lives. And while the thought had occurred to Bucky - he wasn’t getting any younger and dating was getting a hell of a lot harder - he knew in his heart he’d never be happy without the bond, even if he had his own baseball team of sweet faces. When he’d finished the review section, Bucky reviewed the Alpha’s actual profile and found himself sold all too quickly. He liked that he was a retired Army captain - they had shared life experience and Bucky knew he wouldn’t have to tip toe around this one - so he’d understand Bucky’s desire to be orderly and regimented about his heats. He was an artist who liked to cook (and could cook damn well according to reviews), enjoyed time outdoors (Bucky fucking loved being outside), and exercised regularly. Even though the guy refused to provide breeding services, the site required all of his statistics anyway. Bucky found himself nodding along at how fucking healthy the guy was. According to his daily STD scans which were posted at noon of every day for the day previous, he was completely clean - and held a record, noted by the number of checks (which he had in the hundreds) and Xs (which he had not a single one of). The only part of his profile that was blank was the ‘Sired’ category, which made sense. The only part of it filled was the very top which read ‘Breeding Available: No.’ And beneath it...Bucky whistled. An Alpha with a sperm count like that who refused to breed was almost a tragedy. Bucky could understand his peers frustrations. But, it worked for him, because despite the ‘yes someday’ to babies, he was most assuredly not in the market and had no intention to be, so it worked out just fine for him - though several reviews warned that many of the Omegas he’d been with had chosen him distinctly for the same reason and came out the other end wanting them more than ever. Still, Bucky wasn’t concerned, and clicked the ‘contact’ link. He filled in his basics and gave the guy a short, perfunctory overview of his plan and hit send. While realistically, he was aware that for his distinct level of need, and with his heat rapidly approaching, it’d be best to explore all avenues, and perhaps contact a few others on the site’s Top Twenty - putting the fact aside entirely that the Alpha he’d chosen was a site favorite and probably got inundated with requests by the minute; all reviews mentioned he replied to them despite his busy schedule - Bucky had set his mind on this Alpha in particular, and that was pretty much it for him. Feeling accomplished, he got up and stretched, before giving in to the desire to go for a run and push his body while he still could. Closing his laptop, he trotted off to get changed. Much to his surprise, by the time he’d finished his run, had something to eat, showered and napped, there was a response waiting for him from the Alpha. Bucky clicked the link excitedly before pausing and closing his eyes. He realized the guy could be responding with a polite no and he didn’t think he could handle that, not when he finally felt like he was gaining some sort of control over his life. He held his breath a minute or so, then released it slowly, falling into the calm mental state just before he pulled the trigger. Opening his eyes, he read the response, and felt all the air leave his chest in a rush. His fingers stumbled over themselves as he hurriedly replied, giving the Alpha his schedule, complete with both expected heat start and what he felt to be the more realistic start time, given everything he was feeling. The Alpha must have been at his computer, because he replied back almost immediately, informing Bucky he was available and asking him if he’d like to meet before hand to see if they were a personality match. Bucky closed his eyes on a very personal mewl and took a moment to thank all higher powers for finally sending a competent individual attached to this year’s knotting service. He agreed to coffee and sent the Alpha the address. An hour and twenty minutes later he was sitting in his fourth favorite coffee shop - he was not stupid enough to ever give out the first three for tactical reasons - hands curled about his cup and trying not to look at the door every time the bell jingled. He’d bought a magazine to peruse while he waited, but it mostly sat face up above his jiggling knee under the table. Bucky wasn’t nervous as a general rule - he’d have never gotten as far in the military if he had been - but he found the closer the time came for them to meet, the more anxious he felt. The fact that he was using an agency didn’t sway him in the least. The fact that the Alpha he’d chosen, and whom his mind had happily already settled on, might end up not feeling a kinship enough to agree to undergo his heats with him for the year made him jittery as hell. Many reviewers had pointed out that the Alpha not only remembered (and prefered to use) their names during their time together, but had a keen mind for recalling every intimate detail revealed to him, recalling everything from just how they liked their knotting to their idiosyncratic tendencies, whims and preferences. He was an Alpha who believed in proper Omega care before, during and after a heat and nearly every reviewer had touched upon how easy and enjoyable their heats were while in his care. The fact that he even personally subscribed to Omega care, let alone deigned to provide it was something Bucky found he really, really wanted to experience for once in his life. And while the Alpha remained (a strange combination of tragically and blissfully) unbonded and refused to provide breeding services, Bucky had read more than one review that personally thanked him for teaching and/or reminding them what they ought to be looking for in a partner. Bucky wondered how often the guy was approached by clients for personal attention outside of a contract. He suspected incredibly often. “Are you a pictures man or do you read it for the articles?” Bucky looked up to find quite possibly the most gorgeous man to ever grace the Earth smiling down at him. He blinked, following the playful drop of the blond’s eyes to his National Geographic on the table. Bucky laughed, standing. “All about the articles,” he replied, smiling. “Of course the inserts aren’t half bad either.” The guy laughed. “Steve,” he introduced himself as they shook hands. “Are you James?” He seemed to be asking out of courtesy more than uncertainty, and Bucky found he liked that a whole lot. “Yeah. Bucky though, please. Everyone calls me Bucky.” “Nice to meet you, Bucky.” Bucky felt his smile tugging even wider and wondered if this was a natural occurrence for Steve. He held out his newly freed hand and gestured at the table. Steve sat with a quiet thanks, not at all concerned apparently about accepting breaks in social etiquette when offered them. Bucky’s opinion of him rose even more. “Coffee?” he asked. “Tea? A sandwich?” The last he drawled out after a long look at the Alpha sitting across from him. Steve laughed and Bucky marveled over how relaxing it felt to be in this particular Alpha’s presence. Usually Alphas left him slightly unsettled, especially close to a heat. But Steve, for all his stature and clear Alpha status seemed about as threatening as a kitten. “Water’s fine,” he assured him. Bucky waved one of the servers over to ask for a water for Steve. The girl - an Omega herself - bumped into exactly five tables including their own in the process of fulfilling the request. Steve smiled at her beguilingly and thanked her sincerely, making eye contact with her the entire time she was present, as if he truly appreciated her service. She flushed prettily and dropped her eyes, barely glancing up at him from below her lashes as she nervously tucked some hair behind her ear and replied in a quiet voice, “You’re welcome.” She shifted slightly, twining her fingers together and risked a glance up at him. “If...if there’s anything you need…” Bucky felt proud of her for not stressing the word. “I’ll be...just over there.” She thumbed her badge. “Sharon.” “Thanks, Sharon,” Steve replied with a kind smile that didn’t seem the least bit forced or fake. “We appreciate it. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.” She chanced a glance at Bucky who smiled at her, sharing an ‘I know, right?!’ moment with her before she scurried off. He laughed softly to himself, shaking his head, mindful of her trek across the room so she wouldn’t feel offended. “What?” Steve asked, head cocked to the side. “Nothing, pal,” Bucky replied with a chuckle. “I just can’t believe you’re actually real.” Steve straightened, though he didn’t appear offended, merely seemingly resigned. “Why does everyone I meet say that?” he sighed. “Because you’re a bit of a miracle,” Bucky pointed out. Steve snorted. “It doesn’t take anything to be nice to people,” he responded. And ohhh did Bucky want to sign the damn contract and have the privilege of this man’s company for the year. Steve seemed to catch on, because he cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, fingers toying idly with his straw. “So,” he said, crossing his legs at the ankles beneath the table. Bucky could tell because Steve’s legs were long and he could feel them adjusting just to the right of his own. “Do you want to discuss specifics?” He was giving him an out, Bucky realized. A chance to say he wasn’t comfortable or didn’t feel like they were a good match but thanks for coming anyway, sorry for wasting your time. Jesus, nobody could be this fucking perfect. He smiled and took a sip of his coffee, deliberately dragging out the moment as he observed Steve over the rim of his cup. Steve sat quietly, upright, but hunched a bit at the shoulders, as if conscious of how his size could affect people’s decisions. Swallowing, Bucky leaned back in his own seat, deliberately stretching his legs out so his feet settled between Steve’s chair legs. “Yeah, let’s talk specifics.” Steve pulled out his phone, holding his thumb to it for a moment, before swiping across the surface. He tapped something and then looked up at Bucky. “You said you should be peaking sometime around Thursday?” Bucky shrugged. “I’ve been on Omniprel for three and a half years.” Steve’s eyebrow rose slightly. “System just finished flushing last week. I’m back to norm, so…” Steve hummed and tapped something into his phone. “Do you peak early?” “Yeah,” Bucky replied with a sigh, raking his hand through his hair. “I’m really needy just before and just after.” Steve looked back down at his phone and swiped up with his thumb. “First heat of the season?” “Yeah,” Bucky drawled, feeling his chest heave a deeper sigh. “I’m gonna be a fucking wreck. Sorry about that. I mean I understand-” Steve held up a hand, shaking his head. “No apologies please,” he said, putting his phone down. He reached out, giving Bucky plenty of time to retreat before laying his hand over Bucky’s on the table and giving him a firm but gentle squeeze. “Omniprel’s a serious suppressant. Coming off it is stressful enough. I’m just trying to figure out how much time you’ll need; I want to be sure you’re safe before I leave you. That’s all.” Bucky blinked at him, swallowing against the sudden blockage in his throat. He released a slow, too shaky for his liking exhale as Steve rubbed his thumb against his wrist supportively. “Okay.” Steve smiled and picked his phone back up with his free hand. His fingers relaxed over Bucky’s, offering him the choice to pull away if he wanted. Bucky considered the anxiousness swirling in his gut over Steve’s sincerity and shifted his hand so their fingers interlocked lightly. Steve’s grip adjusted, so they were holding hands, fingers twined. Bucky found he could breathe a lot easier. “It’s Tuesday,” he said apropos of nothing. “Yeah?” Bucky replied, unsure of whether or not there was a question there. “You figure you’ll start peaking on Thursday,” Steve explained calmly. Well shit. Steve’s fingers gave his a light squeeze. “Do you prefer your own space or would you rather spend it in mine?” Bucky was aware some Omegas prefered to be completely surrounded in an Alpha. Using their environment to help ground them in the present, using it as a security and a safety net all at once. Some Alphas also prefered their own space, for performance reasons. The fact that he was getting a choice… Bucky’s mouth quirked up in one corner. “Yeah, but is it really your place, or is it your office?” Color graced Steve’s cheeks and Bucky grinned. He was almost positive no one had ever asked him that before. Which really, Steve was a contract Alpha. Of course he kept his own home independent of where he took Omegas for their heats. He was young, healthy and beautiful. Eventually he might decide to retire and take a mate, and he’d never be comfortable bringing them back to the same place he brought his contracted Omegas. It was common sense. Bucky gave Steve’s hand a squeeze. “My place is fine,” he replied. “I’ll be more comfortable there. I know where everything is.” Steve nodded and tapped something into his phone. He took a moment, reading something before hovering his thumb over his screen. “Would you like me to lock in the time?” ‘Do you want to sign with me,’ was what he was really asking. Bucky grinned at him, feeling a little dopey. “Yeah, go ahead,” he replied. “You’re OVID approved, right?” “Yep,” Steve said, thumb pressing down on the screen. He waited a moment, nodded then put it away. “The contract will need to be signed and filed by the end of the day - they’ve sent it to you for approval, it should be in your inbox within the next ten minutes - but, I’m yours now.” ‘Yours.’ Bucky liked the sound of it. “You agreed awfully fast,” he pointed out. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.” Steve shrugged. “I go with my gut,” he replied, casual as you please. “Instincts ever fail you?” Bucky asked, curious. “Nope.” Bucky grinned. “Good to know.” Bucky read the contract in the passenger’s seat of Steve’s car on his phone while he waited for Steve to pack up for their time together. According to the contract, they would be essentially bonded for the duration of Bucky’s heat, which allowed for certain intimacies as required by the Omega and at their own discretion. Bucky wondered how many Omegas had asked Steve to scent mark them during their heats and felt a weird prickle in his chest. He signed the contracts with his forefinger and sent them back. He trusted his gut too. It’d kept him alive more than his training ever had. He just wished his gut would make up it’s mind where the Alpha was concerned. He was pretty sure contract Omegas had no right to feel any inkling of jealousy over a biological service. It’d be nice if emotional compliance came with the contract as well. Bucky’d had plenty of Alphas over in his time, but whether it was the contract or just Steve himself, it felt a lot different this time around. Steve looked around, but was careful not to touch anything. He was being very mindful of scenting up the environment, and Bucky appreciated that. “Feel free to make yourself at home,” he said. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, there’s no reason you should be standing around trying to keep to yourself for the year.” “You can contract me monthly,” Steve pointed out. As if Bucky would give Steve up for anything short of his own personal mating. Steve’s not Bucky’s. Bucky had more or less resigned himself to being alone for the rest of his life. “Do you have your heart set on that?” Bucky replied, flopping onto the couch. “Because I already put in for the year with OVID.” Steve relaxed. He didn’t take up any more space than necessary, but he took up space more naturally than he had a moment ago. “It’s up to you,” he said crossing over to the couch at Bucky’s invitation. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Bucky shifted, tucking one leg under him as he turned to look at him while Steve made himself comfortable. “Don’t you get a choice at all?” he asked with some concern. Steve smiled. “Of course I do,” he reassured him. “But, I go with my gut, remember?” Bucky grinned. “Yeah, me too.” He dropped back into the corner of the couch, dropping his legs into Steve’s lap and freezing. “Is this...I mean…” Steve dropped a hand over Bucky’s calf and rubbed his leg. “It’s fine. I’m here for you, Bucky. Whatever I can do to make this more comfortable on you, I want you to tell me.” Bucky suppressed the pleasured sigh as Steve’s strong fingers swept over his jean clad skin, wiggling back into the pillows and flexing his toes. “I don’t want you feeling obligated-” “Bucky,” Steve cut him off gently. He smiled. “If I don’t want to do something, or I’m uncomfortable, I’ll tell you, all right?” Something in Bucky seriously doubted the truth of that declaration. “Promise me.” “I promise,” Steve vowed, so solemnly Bucky found himself swallowing. “What do you like?” he asked after a moment, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns against the back of Bucky’s knee. He dropped his other hand across the back of the couch, fingers gently reaching to toy with the ends of Bucky’s hair. Bucky arched slightly, feeling arousal wash through him in a low wave. “Bucky?” Steve’s voice was gentle and inquisitive. Bucky opened his eyes - surprised he’d closed them to begin with - and met Steve’s shockingly blue ones. “I don’t…” Shame curled in the pit of his stomach. It was stupid. He knew better than to feel ashamed over his own needs. Hell, it was the entire reason he’d gone with a contracted Alpha this time around - to see that those needs were met as best as possible. Still, he found it difficult to reconcile with years of what was essentially social indoctrination. He shrugged. “I don’t really know.” Steve nodded as if this wasn’t news. There was something not at all like pity on his face, but still spoke of a sort of tired understanding, as if Bucky’s situation was universal, and he was still struggling to accept it after all this time. Bucky shifted, and Steve used the motion to sweep his legs up and scoot closer on the couch. Bucky’s ass met Steve’s thigh, feet against the couch even as Steve’s hand began to sweep from his hip to his ankle without apparent struggle in reach. It felt...incredibly good and Bucky relaxed into the touch. “I like that,” he conceded. “How would you feel about an open learning curve?” Steve asked. “Hmm?” Bucky replied, peeking up at him again. Steve’s fingers swept around his knee as the fingers of his other hand drifted back, barely grazing his scalp. Bucky swallowed a keening sound, arching up slightly, hands fisting against his sides. Steve reached for one and drew it close, resting it flat against his side. “We’ll agree to give one another permission to go with our guts.” He gave Bucky a soft smile. “Just do what feels natural, and we’ll correct one another when necessary. If you don’t like something, just tell me to stop and I will. If you want more of something, let me know. And I’ll do the same.” He shifted closer. “It’s important that we establish a connection. So when your heat sets in, I’ll be able to give you everything you need. You won’t come out the end feeling like something’s missing.” Bucky blinked up at him. “How did you…” Steve sighed heavily. “It’s an unfortunate truth that communication is often severely lacking between our designations. It’s disturbingly common how many Omegas feel unfulfilled in general, but it’s completely disgraceful that they’re more likely to after a heat. While we’re together, I promise I will be here for you one hundred percent, no matter what you need, Bucky.” Bucky swallowed against the intensity in Steve’s eyes. The air felt heavier around them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just weighted, like a particularly important moment, preparing to burn itself into memory. “I can be really needy,” he informed Steve quietly, feeling the habitual urge to drop his eyes, but unable to in the steady gaze of Steve’s regard. “Well,” Steve replied pleasantly. “That’s good. Because I can be extremely attentive.” Bucky snorted a laugh. “The only thing I absolutely won’t do,” Steve informed him. “Is risk breeding you. I know that it’s something a lot of people choose me for, but I-” “You don’t have to explain yourself,” Bucky interrupted. “Breeding is your own damn business. And anyone who tries to get you to breed them after knowing it’s something you don’t want is an asshole.” Steve smiled, hand sliding up Bucky’s side. “It isn’t that I don’t want kids,” he replied, nodding his consent to share of his own free will when Bucky opened his mouth again. “I want plenty of kids. A whole baseball team even.” He laughed. “I just...I want my kids to be my kids. I want to raise them with my mate. It’s...it’s important to me that it’s...special, you know? I want the only kids I have to be born out of love and mutual desire and respect. Not because someone thought I looked good or got caught up in the moment.” “You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” Bucky asked, looking at him sideways. “Yeah, what of it?” Steve responded, tilting his chin up playfully. “We’re a dying breed,” Bucky informed him. “Oh?” “You will not believe how often I’ve had some idiot knotted up in me complaining about the condom because ‘it’s such a waste’.” Steve snorted. “I understand that a lot of people don’t want to wait now a days, and that’s completely fine. It’s their lives and their business. Am I happy that I’m gonna be thirty-one and I don’t know what it’s like to be pregnant? No. I mean, I get that I’m ‘still young’ but at the same time, I always thought I’d be hip deep in kids by now. That was the plan. Not to sound cliché or anything - it’s not like I wanted to be a house Omega, not that there’s anything wrong with that - but I always thought I’d have everything together by now, you know?” Steve nodded. “I had it all planned out. I’d meet someone young, fall madly in love…” Steve smiled. Bucky suspected he’d been similarly duped by life. “Mate. Start my family while I was still able to keep up with them.” Most people would interrupt him at this point in his explanation to point out that Bucky was still young and fit enough to do that. Steve didn’t. “Hell by thirty, I was supposed to have been mated at least five years with about as many kids and a bunch more to come.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. His fingers bumped Steve’s and they tangled. “I don’t regret my life at all, but the older I get the harder it is to find someone who gives a shit. So many Omegas are going it alone because it’s just easier to admit if you can’t have the whole thing you were promised when you designated, the least you can do is fulfill your own needs. And I want kids so badly…” He wiped at his eyes. “I hate my heats because every last one is just this reminder of how wrong everything’s gone. And every time I have to go off my suppressants, the need just consumes me. It’s just this big, painful reminder of everything I don’t have. And everything I try is just...not enough. I always feel so...empty. It doesn’t help! It...I...What’s so wrong with me that no one wants me?” he asked, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Every heat I have to hear about how much some stupid knothead wants to breed me. But fill ‘em and flee ‘em! That’s all they want! And I-my kids deserve better! They deserve parents who love them and want to be with them and not..not…” He steadied himself against Steve’s chest, surprised to find himself in the Alpha’s lap. Steve’s arms were around him and there were wet stains in his shirt. Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s neck as Steve made a throaty soothing sound and just fucking sobbed. “You deserve better,” Steve murmured into his hair, hand smoothing over his back. “You shouldn’t have to settle for anything you don’t want because that’s ‘just the way the world works’.” He pressed a sweet, pulling kiss against Bucky’s temple. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so unfulfilled, but I promise if nothing else, I’ll do my best to ease as much of the strain as I’m able while we’re together.” Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s neck, nose to his throat. Steve didn’t object, arms drawing him closer and holding him so securely, Bucky thought he just might crumble into nothing if he let go. “I’m here,” Steve soothed gently. “I’m here. I have you, Bucky. Everything’s gonna be alright.” By the time Bucky calmed enough to regain his bearings, he couldn’t quite recall the series of events, or make any accurate guess towards the time passed. All he was aware of was the fact that Steve had - at some point - made himself comfortable, and was cradling Bucky close with the same sure feeling of safety and security. Somehow Bucky’d managed to curl up about Steve’s torso, knees high up his chest and face buried in his neck. His arms were tucked just under Steve’s, whose own were wound about him unmoving, but still reassuring in the strength of his hold. The Alpha was taking all of Bucky’s weight, laying back against the couch at an angle, and if it bothered him at all - and it didn’t seem to - he wasn’t saying anything. Bucky inhaled deeply and let the steady Alpha scent collect in his lungs. Steve, perhaps noting the change, gave a rumble of what Bucky assumed was approval and shifted his grip so he was craddling his body in the solid hold of one arm, fingers splaying against Bucky’s hip. His now free hand moved to the back of Bucky’s head and began a long, smooth stroking that was just the right pressure. He didn’t say anything though and the silence dragged out until Bucky felt compelled to address it. Shifting, he wiggled impossibly closer, as if he could hide in Steve. Steve obligingly sat up a bit, so his shoulders shielded Bucky - from what, he couldn’t say, but it felt amazingly reassuring. As a result, more of his weight rested against Steve’s arm beneath him, which didn’t so much as twitch over the increase. “I’m...sorry,” he murmured; nearly whined really. “Steve, I-” “Hey,” Steve replied. His voice was even, quiet but firm. Bucky relaxed into it. Steve’s hand paused against his back, his head tilting. “Look at me.” It wasn’t an order, but it wasn’t a question either. Just enough Alpha to get through Bucky’s distress. He lifted his head, but when he didn’t lift his eyes, Steve’s fingers brushed his chin and guided it up gently. “Bucky, look at me.” Bucky’s eyes rose slowly, afraid of what he might find in Steve’s. When their eyes did meet however, Steve’s were lit with a kindness and understanding Bucky wasn’t used to. “Why are you apologizing?” Bucky’s eyes flitted around, unable to hold Steve’s. “Hey.” He looked back at him. Steve’s hand cupped his cheek and Bucky’s entire body pressed into the touch. “Don’t ever apologize for anything you need,” he said quietly. “Okay?” Bucky swallowed. “That’s why I’m here,” Steve continued. “To take care of you.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s brow. His eyes closed at the touch, body relaxing further. Steve brought their brows together. After a moment of feeling Steve’s unwavering gaze, Bucky opened his eyes. “Anything and everything you need. I’m here for you.” Inhaling shakily, Bucky nodded slowly. It made their noses brush and they both smiled. “May I kiss you?” Steve asked, and it was such an odd thing, to be asked by an Alpha. Especially given the reason Steve was in his apartment. He’d meant to say yes, but what came out was a slightly trembling, “Please.” “If you want me to stop,” Steve said, holding his gaze. “You tell me to stop and I will. Alright?” Bucky swallowed; his throat felt dry. “Okay,” he replied when Steve didn’t immediately comply. Steve made a sound - of what Bucky guessed was either confirmation or approval - then reached up with his other hand, closing Bucky’s face between them. His fingers slid back into his hair and he guided Bucky forward, pushing up against the couch with his shoulders. The moment their mouths touched...Bucky had never been kissed by anyone in his entire life the way Steve kissed. He couldn’t even describe it. Not if he spoke every language on the planet and had a hundred years to document it. Steve didn’t move anything but his lips and tongue, slowly stoking a wildfire in Bucky’s body. Drawing out sounds from somewhere deep inside that the Omega hadn’t been aware he’d even possessed. In fact, it was Bucky who began moving. The dual combination of his hardening cock and the slick sliding free of his body, encouraged by the heavy throbbing between his hips, urging him to find some kind of release. He began to rock over Steve, body making contact with the Alpha’s firm abdomen. After a while, his hips began to wind circles, and then a combination of the two, slowly losing focus and finesse, fingers gripping the cloth at Steve’s shoulders with increasing strength. And still, Steve didn’t move. Just kept kissing him in his maddening way. Kept himself a steady target for Bucky’s rutting motions. His mouth absorbing Bucky’s cries even as it encouraged more of them free. Bucky lost all real sense of himself as he pushed against Steve’s strong shoulders. As an Alpha, Steve by definition was difficult to move, but he did, shifting back until Bucky was atop him, without sacrificing the angle that was giving the Omega in his lap so much pleasure. Bucky pushed himself upright and took. Riding the mounting pleasure mindlessly. Steve’s hands slid down his sides, moving to rest over his hips. They didn’t guide or attempt to alter Bucky’s movements in any way. Simply settled there, a welcome pressure. Bucky could feel his orgasm coming at him with the speed of a freight train and shoved his hips down against Steve with increased urgency, fingers trapped in knots he’d made of the Alpha’s shirt. Steve’s hands slid back and his fingers did something soft and fleeting against Bucky’s lower spine and he just fucking lost it. Entire body bowing tightly, his head snapping back, Bucky howled his pleasure to the ceiling. The intensity alone was shocking, but what really got his attention was the length of it. It seemed to go on forever before abruptly capping off. Bucky’s entire body pulled a full one eighty and he collapsed in a trembling heap atop of Steve. Steve, who still didn’t move, except to comfort him. Winding his arms about him and smoothing his hands over Bucky’s oversensitive nerves. “Better?” he asked calmly after several moments of Bucky’s harsh gasping and uncontrollable shaking. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky growled when he was finally capable of responding. He pushed himself up enough so he could look at Steve. The bastard didn’t even look smug, instead a strange sort of satisfied happiness. He smoothed a hand through Bucky’s hair and the Omega was temporarily lost to the sensation. “Feel better?” he clarified. Bucky blinked at him. “You’re going to be worth every cent,” he informed him. Steve laughed. Bucky’s heat didn’t start for another twelve hours. In that time, Steve proved to be exceptionally adept at anticipating and providing for Bucky’s needs and desires. He got him off so much, the frantic feeling that usually accompanied his heat’s arrival was distinctly absent. So absent in fact, that Bucky didn’t even realize when his body transitioned from pre-heat to full heat. Not that he was capable of focussing on much. Not with how fucking amazing Steve was. The Alpha seemed to instinctively know where all of Bucky’s spots were. If he were guessing, then he was doing a damn fine job of faking it, because he never lost that confidence that he wore like a cloak about him. The steady, assured sort, not at all laced with insecurities. But stuffed with sincerity and earnestness. In fact, Bucky only knew his heat had started because Steve drew away from him - and God but having an Alpha eat you out for hours on end was something every Omega deserved to experience at least once in their lifetime - shifting in his position between Bucky’s legs. He pulled off his shirt and undid his belt before attending to his fly. Bucky was automatically transfixed. Eyes glued to the main event as it was slowly revealed. Steve didn’t rush like most Alpha’s. Tearing at their clothes and throwing them everywhere before grabbing at Bucky. He wasn’t overly careful, but he was definitely leisurely. Bucky found himself swallowing as Steve adjusted, folding his pants and tossing them with astounding accuracy onto the chair in the corner. Bucky took a moment to thank every deity in existence as his eyes drank in the sight of Steve’s erection. He was large and thick, the kind of Alpha an Omega would easily find intimidating if they brought them home without prior warning. Everything about Steve screamed virile and Bucky felt the gushing release as his body responded. Steve looked at him - Bucky couldn’t be sure if he’d made a sound or not - and smiled. “Ready?” he asked. Bucky flopped back on the bed, arching and spreading his legs with a whine. Steve laughed again softly and stroked Bucky’s inner thigh. “It’s okay, Bucky. You can take me.” It suddenly occurred to Bucky that Steve’s constant attentiveness made a striking amount of sense now. “In me,” Bucky whined, hips rolling. He damn well knew he could handle Steve. Hell, he was excited as all fuck to try. If Steve would stop taking his sweet ass time. “Shh,” Steve soothed, stroking him again. “In a minute. Need to acclimate you to me first.” He lifted Bucky’s legs, bending them at the knee and settled between them. “Have to do this part without the condom, so there’s gonna be a bit in between that’s gonna feel tight,” he explained. “Sorry.” Bucky was about to berate him - he could damn well get on with it any fucking day now - when he felt Steve’s heavy cock meet his slickened hole. Oh. OH. Steve slid his cock against him a few times; long, steady thrusts that coated them in one another’s essences. He adjusted his hold and levered Bucky’s hips before doing it again, coating the other side. Each stroke was maddening. Since they glanced right over his entrance without once making an attempt to burrow into his body - where Bucky needed him to be. “Steve,” he gasped, head tossing to one side. His hands made aborted grabbing motions against the Alpha’s abdomen. “Steve!” Steve made a soothing noise and helped Bucky roll over. Bucky was quick to present, limbs scrabbling beneath him, tangling in the sheets. “Almost…” Steve soothed. “Just a little bit more, Buck, and we can start.” His hands gripped Bucky by the hips and held him down firmly. Bucky cried out, feeling his body release even more slick. He was ready! He was so ready!! “Easy…” Steve said, lining up the head of his magnificent cock. “Easy, Bucky. Can’t start just yet.” Bucky bucked in Steve’s grip, trying to thrust back to greet him. “Almost..” Steve soothed. He pushed in slowly, but shallow. Bucky cried out and tried to push back, but Steve’s grip strengthened about him. They’d agreed earlier that Steve would use his Alpha voice on Bucky whenever it felt right. So when he said, “Bucky not yet,” voice heavy with Alpha, it thrummed hard through Bucky’s entire body. He stopped moving immediately, ass in the air and face making even more of a mess of the sheets as he pressed it close and moved around, whining desperately. Steve made a soothing noise and stroked a hand down Bucky’s trembling back, following the entire length of his spine. “So good,” he praised gently - Bucky liked it, so Steve had agreed to it. He pushed forward and Bucky keened as his body stretched slowly about the oh so welcome intrusion. “Almost…” Steve panted. “Almost there.” As he bottomed out, balls pressed close to Bucky’s skin, Bucky mewled and squirmed. He still wasn’t allowed to move, and Steve stroked him reassuringly as Bucky’s body accepted him. When his muscles had contracted to accommodate Steve’s cock, body properly imprinted for the cycle, Steve slowly drew out. Bucky - unable to stop himself - immediately burst into frustrated tears. “Shhh…Buck,” Steve soothed as he slipped free and reached for a condom. “I’m here. I’m right here. Gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good care of you.” Bucky pressed his face into the sheets, sobbing quietly. Steve gently levered him free after a moment, turning him over and smoothing his hands over Bucky’s spred legs. “I’ve got you, Buck…” he gasped as he slid back in. Bucky watched through watery eyes as Steve’s head tipped back slightly, exposing his neck. He let out a soft, open mouthed sound when he was fully sheathed again, then drew Bucky’s hips close with both hands and leaned over him so he could kiss him sweetly. When the tears were clear and Bucky was trembling again, Steve pressed their brows together and meeting Bucky’s eyes asked, “How do you want it?” Bucky threw both legs about him and drew him close. Steve must have seen the answer in his eyes, because he kissed Bucky again and said, “Alright.” He gathered his knees up beneath him, tucking close and wrapping Bucky up in his arms before letting loose. Bucky was only vaguely aware he’d probably bruise from the force of it later; he was far too busy being filled in every way. Steve rode him fast and hard and deep, only alternating for the occasional long draw out before ramming home again. Bucky clung to him with all his limbs, fingers digging into the powerful muscles of the Alpha’s back. Steve’s head was beside his, and Bucky’s body was only more spurred on by the sounds of his harsh breaths. The scent of Steve was everywhere and Bucky could feel the need to lock drawing upon him. He clung closer with all the strength he yet possessed and a moment later found himself awash in pleasure as he came. Steve thrust through his orgasm, knot thickening. With one final push, they sealed together and Bucky gasped against his heart beating a million miles a minute in his chest. Despite the fact that Steve ought to be riding his own high as his orgasm drew out, body releasing continuously in a vain attempt to impregnate the Omega beneath him, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down at Bucky. “You okay?” Bucky wasn’t capable of articulation beyond moans, so he gave him one and kissed him. His first heat of the year passed after a week, and by the end of it, Bucky was on cloud nine. He returned to work and had to endure constant teasing from his co-workers, a good number of whom were his friends, and could get away with a few more intrusive comments. “Sure you’re not pregnant?” Clint asked for the third time. “Positive,” Bucky replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying,” the other Omega replied with a shrug. “I’ve only ever really seen our lot be that happy after two things: a bonding and getting knocked up.” He squinted slightly, leaning close. “You’re not…” Bucky shoved at his shoulder. “I’m not bonded either, you idiot!” “I don’t get it,” Clint said, shaking his head as he tapped a group of papers together. Bucky just smiled and turned his chair to take in the exterior cameras. He and Clint had a deep, abiding friendship, so when he felt Clint’s nose against his neck his first reaction wasn’t violence. “Get off!” he replied with a laugh, one arm gently shoving. Clint inhaled deeply, swaying slightly with the motion, before straightening and moving back to his own chair. “I really don’t get it.” Bucky scanned the camera outputs before turning to his friend. “I just found a really dedicated Alpha to help me out this year,” he explained, unable to stop the widening grin on his face. “A really, really dedicated Alpha. I mean, like he’s fucking amazing at it, Clint!” Clint leaned back, extending his legs and rocking his chair from side to side slightly. “And you’re not planning to keep him?” All of Bucky’s friends - his family, hell most everyone who knew him well, despite how much he’d rather keep his pathetic desperation to himself - knew his situation. Clint better than most. Bucky’s eyes trailed over the swell of Clint’s belly. He was happy for his friends, but at the same time, it was hard sometimes to be an outsider to their happiness. They’d never treated him any differently - especially Clint and Natasha - but there was something oddly alienating about someone close to you getting to experience everything you wanted so strongly. Bucky only felt more and more isolated as his social circle began to shrink until he was the last one left without a partner. He’d stopped going to a lot of events because being the only Stag in a happily paired off and reproducing group physically ached and only made him more unhappy at the reminder that he just wasn’t good enough. Clint and Natasha however, would not let him bow out of all his relationships so easily and circumvented his emerging pattern by inviting him to smaller, more intimate gatherings. He was often at their home or going out to dinner with them. And when he’d dodged them a little too effectively a smidgen too long one or both would show up at his home to either drag him out or invade. Bucky was comfortable with them; so much so that often they’d encounter situations where people would assume they were a triad. Sometimes they’d correct them. Sometimes they’d ignore them. Sometimes they’d play into it. It really depended on the situation. When they played into it however, Bucky always felt hazy with the imaginary situation and would end up feeling severely low about himself for days after. He never found himself not wanting to play along though, no matter how depressed it left him later. And he always felt like a shitty friend, no matter how much he enjoyed it while it lasted. Bucky sighed. “He’s contracted. He came into my life through an agency. OVID’s paying.” Clint’s brows rose. “You went contract this year?” Bucky shrugged. “I just wanted to know everything would be taken care of, you know.” Clint nodded. It had been a few years since it’d been an issue for Clint, but it wasn’t the sort of thing an Omega ever forgot. His friend’s fingers folded over his middle and his cupped hands followed the sweep down until his arms were almost hugging his belly. “Are you going to-” Bucky shook his head a little too fiercely. “You know how I feel about that, Clint.” “I know. I just thought maybe…” “No.” Clint sighed quietly, then asked after a moment, “Can I see him?” Bucky’s smile was instantaneous. He’d been wanting to share his good fortune for days. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. Clint watched with a smile of his own. When the phone was turned around the smile stuttered and he openly gaped. “Shit, Bucky.” “I know, right?” Clint grabbed the phone and peered down at it. Bucky squirmed in his chair, practically climbing into it in his excitement. “This is seriously him?” “Where else would I get such a nice pic of such a hot Alpha?” “A porn site?” Bucky laughed and leaned forward. “No, that’s really him.” He reached over and began swiping. He was smugly satisfied with the way Clint’s eyes continued to widen and his mouth hung open. When Clint finally looked up questioningly, Bucky held his hands apart, laughing hard when Clint cursed at him and threw his phone at his head.   “My friends are jealous of you,” he informed Steve during their next heat together. Steve paused, lifting his head from between Bucky’s legs. No Alpha had ever been so invested in Bucky’s cock before and he loved it. Bucky grinned at him. “They’re all mated so they missed out on the chance to contract you.” Steve huffed softly, twisting his fingers expertly in Bucky’s ass. “You keep saying I constantly surprise you, but you do the same thing,” he replied. Bucky moaned, arching into the touch as Steve leaned forward and ran his tongue up the underside of Bucky’s cock. Sure, it wasn’t the main event during a heat, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still work. And the fact that Steve knew that and was mindful of it made the pleasure flood twice as intoxicatingly through his system. “Me?” he gasped after a moment, catching on to what Steve had said. Steve hummed. Since Bucky’s cock was in his mouth when he did it, Bucky responded with a low groan. Leaning back, the Alpha wrapped long fingers about his shaft and began an excruciatingly slow gliding motion that just barely tugged Bucky’s skin along for the ride. “Yeah, you,” he said, mouth quirked in a small smile Bucky had never seen before. “Usually, things go the other way.” Steve didn’t like to discuss clients with clients and Bucky respected that. Steve also made it a point to never mention the fact that he was doing a service which he also performed for others in the same contracted duration. But every now and again, Bucky supposed he caught him off guard and Steve slipped. Never enough to be disrespectful, but enough that Bucky felt honored by his honesty. He snorted. “They buy into the whole thing, huh?” Steve hummed his agreement. “Yeah, well…” Bucky arched with a gasp, trying to shove his cock up into Steve’s grip - just short of maddening in the way it was only the right amount of pressure and nowhere near enough. “I’m not most Omegas.” Steve laughed, low and open. The sound of it sent a new wave of arousal washing through Bucky’s nerves. “Yeah, I’m discovering that.”   “You know, I didn’t quite believe it when Clint explained, but this…” Natasha looked him up and down. Bucky just grinned at her. She gripped his chin and lifted it, inspecting his neck, then walked around him, pushing his head forward and tugging his collar down. “I’m not mated,” he informed her flatly. “I can see that,” she replied. Stepping back, she folded her arms across her chest and looked him over. “Take off your shirt.” “Tasha!” he objected. “Shirt. Off.” She said it in a friendly manner, insistent but not demanding. When the occasion called for it she could Alpha Bucky better than anyone he knew - with the possible exception of Steve now, but then they were sharing his heats, so it made sense - but she never pressed unduly. Bucky rolled his eyes and yanked his shirt off, dropping it to his side, dangling in one hand. Natasha circled him, touching him gently every now and again. She dropped down in front of him after several moments and pressed her nose below his belly button, inhaling deeply. “Well,” commented Clint from the doorway. “Nice to know the rounder I get the less attractive I am.” “She doesn’t believe me either,” Bucky informed him. “Coming off your second heat glowing?” Clint scoffed in return, passing them to open the refrigerator. “Who would?” He pulled out the orange juice and uncapped it. “That’s two in a row now.” Bucky threw up his hands, shirt swinging and nearly catching him in the face. “He’s contracted!!” “That doesn’t mean shit and you know it,” Clint replied around the mouth of the bottle. Bucky jerked at the unexpected sensation of Natasha licking him. “Nat, what the hell!!” She leaned back with a heavy sigh, hands about his hips. “You’re not pregnant.” “Yeah, because I’m not contracting him for breeding services,” he drawled. “We use condoms!” There was a frown to her brow and she stood. Taking his shirt from him, she straightened it out then held it up for him to slip back into. The Alphas in his life - Natasha especially - were always doing things like that. It was both frustrating in its reminder of what he was lacking and so thoughtful that it left an ache in his heart that any Alpha would care enough to give him even the most minor personal attention. Especially when he wasn’t oozing pheromones. After his shirt was settled, Natasha gripped him by the base of the head and drew their brows together, squeezing gently. Bucky relaxed into the loving hold and everything was forgiven. “So,” she said, crossing over to her mate and taking the bottle of juice out of his hand. “Hey!” he protested. Natasha shoved a bottle of water in his grasping hands and Clint sighed heavily. “When do we get to meet him?” Clint perked, slight forgotten as he looked expectedly at Bucky. “Uh...you don’t,” Bucky replied, confused. “He’s contracted.” Natasha waved a hand as if his statement didn’t mean anything. “I don’t even see him unless I’m in heat.” At Natasha’s raised brow he added, “Yes, he’s that busy!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the web page. “Look, see!” he said, holding it out for her to view. Natasha deftly plucked the phone from his hand and leaned in to peck him sweetly against the temple. Clint laughed as Bucky blinked, Natasha walking smoothly away from them, Bucky’s phone in hand. “You make it too easy!” Clint informed him as his mate moved to sit on the couch in the living room. He slapped a hand to Bucky’s back, sliding his arm around him. “Come on, you just got off a cycle. And I’m pregnant. We get to eat fun stuff!!” Bucky sighed and accepted the fact that he would not be getting his phone back any time soon. He was only slightly grateful his heat was over for the month and so Natasha wouldn’t be able to intercept any messages from Steve. “What do you want?” he asked Clint; cooking would at least take his mind off Natasha’s snooping. “Psh!” Clint replied, flagging a hand. “Phil’s home. He can cook. PHIL!!” “So pregnancy ruins your autonomy,” Bucky drawled. “Good to know.” “Just wait,” Clint replied, looping their arms together. “When it finally pans out, you’re going to love every minute of it!” He grinned at him. “Really, this…” He gestured down at his belly with his free hand and leaned in. “Drives them fucking crazy. They’ll do anything for you!” Bucky shook his head. “You’re so fucking spoiled.” Clint merely beamed at him. “Yup!”   Bucky liked Phil. He was the kind of Alpha Bucky had always wanted for himself. Sort of like Steve, now that he thought about it. Phil never used his Alpha nature to push anyone around and in fact, it was often easy to forget he was an Alpha at all. Clint’s other mate - and leave it to his idiot friend to luck out and double mate - was in Homeland Security. He was around so little, it was ridiculously easy to forget Clint even had another mate. But when Phil was home, there was a certain peace to the household that was difficult to miss. Bucky still wasn’t sure how the three of them did it. Natasha and Phil were not intimate with each other, though they were happy enough to be intimate with Clint at the same time whenever he wanted it - and Phil was around. And yet there was a certain camaraderie about them that was difficult to find in Alphas who shared a living space while mated. Bucky supposed it came from having to deal with Clint all the time and their mutual, unconditional love for him. Phil was gentle in nature and while he could be as dangerous - perhaps even more so - than any fully trained Alpha in defense of their own, he was generally easy to be around. Bucky found he always felt extra relaxed when Phil was home, even if he didn’t see him. It might have to do with how happy it made Clint - Omegas who were close could affect one another’s moods fairly regularly - or the way the house just pulsed with the combined might of two strong Alphas. Whatever the case, Bucky found it ridiculously easy to hang around longer than he usually felt comfortable when Clint’s household was at capacity. Today - sated from another well met heat cycle, and with both Alphas in residence - was no different. “You’re looking well, Bucky,” Phil commented, spatula in hand. “I’m finally not scrabbling around to get my shit together,” he replied around a mouthful of obscenely decadent French Toast. Everybody ate better when Phil was home. “He found an Alpha to take care of him,” Clint informed his mate eagerly. Phil didn’t outwardly react, but Bucky could see his nostrils flaring from where he sat. “I’m not mated and I’m not pregnant,” he reiterated. “I still don’t know why,” Clint drawled, pouring more syrup on his own meal. “Clint. Sugar,” Natasha called from the living room. Clint made a face at Phil. His male mate crossed over to him and rubbed noses, before removing the syrup from his immediate reach. Clint made a hurt sound and turned to Bucky. “I take it back. You don’t want this life.” Bucky snorted at his friend’s distress. Neither of his mates seemed immediately concerned by it though. Natasha was quiet and Phil set the syrup down on the counter by the stove. Clint had always had a bit of a thing for extremes - sweet, sour, spice - Bucky suspected it was getting worse now that he was pregnant. He did not envy either of his friend’s mates having to deal with curbing him. “Are they doing a good job?” The question came out casually, but Bucky knew better. For all that their numbers had grown since the post-war baby boom, Omegas were still grossly outnumbered and general concensus regularly swayed between treating them like gold and treating them like disposable lust receptacles. Omegas had it a lot easier now a days than their predecessors, but sometimes it seemed like there were too many options. It made it hard to read people. Any Alphas that were stable enough to have Omegas in their social groups they weren’t actively fucking tended to get extremely protective and territorial of them, as if in compensation. Unbonded Omegas being especially susceptible to their Alpha friends’ well meant intentions. As the last unbonded Omega in their friend group, Bucky endured a lot of Alpha posturing. He understood and appreciated the sentiment behind it so he tried not to let it affect him - even if some days were harder than others. It had certainly come in handy on more than enough occasions. And despite the fact that the love and affection were different from what he so desperately needed at his core, it was enough to keep him going. Not quite enough to keep hope alive, but a reassurance that not all Alphas were assholes. And that if he ever needed them, they would all come, whatever the cause. “Whatever he’s doing, he’s got Bucky living on a cloud,” Clint commented, sullenly poking at his food. “He’s very attentive,” Bucky assured Phil. “He has to be, it’s his job.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out of his mouth. Phil straightened and put the spatula down for starters. He turned, and it wasn’t the sort of movement Bucky was used to seeing from him at home. It was the Agent of the government, I will fuck up your entire life, sort of motion. Bucky actually recoiled instinctively. He trusted Phil, but the Alpha wasn’t hiding what he was in that moment and it made Bucky’s entire being want to hurry up and appease him so he wouldn’t hurt him. It was a ridiculous notion, Bucky fully admitted it - Phil would never hurt him and he could more than hold his own - but it was hard to argue with instincts. “You contracted?” he said, a dangerous edge to his voice. “What’s wrong with contracting?” Clint asked from beside him, straightening. It was something he was able to do only because of the mating bond they shared. He was also acting on instinct; an attempt to protect his fellow Omega by drawing his mate’s attention to himself. Phil didn’t look at him, eyes fixed on Bucky. “I want to see your contract.” It wasn’t a request. Bucky swallowed and edged off his seat. “Natasha…” He gestured helplessly to his right. “Natasha has my phone.” If he were on his suppressants, Bucky knew he wouldn’t be affected. There were many, varied, specifically intricate reasons Omegas made up the brunt force of military special forces the world over. And Bucky was the best. Everyone knew that. But off his suppressants, in Alpha territory, and unmated...instinct came first - something he’d always hated - the only means most Omegas had had available to them for centuries to keep them alive. It was difficult to fight them, especially when it came unexpectedly from someone he trusted. Arms wound about him and he felt Natasha press into his back. She tossed his phone at Phil who caught it and left without another word. Clint got up from his seat and moved to embrace Bucky, Natasha shifting to draw both of them close. She didn’t make any soothing noises or voice any reassurances, just held them until Bucky stopped shaking. “Are you okay?” Clint asked sometime later. Bucky nodded and scrubbed at his face. “I should probably go.” “No,” Clint responded. “You need to stay. Phil has to apologize and explain what the fuck that was about!” Natasha nuzzled Bucky behind his ear, hand smoothing back Clint’s hair. “He didn’t mean to scare you,” she explained. “He’s just wound a little tight over his last assignment. It didn’t end well.” “Why didn’t he tell me?!” Clint asked affronted. Natasha smoothed her hand over his belly and Clint snorted. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid!” “Stress,” she reminded him. “I swear, the both of you!!” Natasha kissed him, slow and deep. Usually Bucky tried to avoid them when they engaged so intimately - mate to mate - but Natasha still had an arm about him, holding him close, and he wasn’t secure enough yet to leave the safe harbor she was offering. So he pressed his face to her shoulder and waited it out. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long. Natasha rubbed his back and pressed a kiss to his hairline. “Phil’s just worried about you, Bucky. About how safe you are.” He released a low, only slightly wavering exhale of defeat. “I know.” “And he’s not used to you--” “Like this, I know.” She patted his back. “He’ll feel horrible about it when he calms down. Come on, let’s go snuggle on the couch.” Neither Omega objected. Phil did indeed return after about an hour, head hanging and Bucky’s phone at his side. He approached them slowly and got down on his knees in front of them, respecting the boundary of both Natasha’s protection and Bucky’s personal bubble. He sat back and offered Bucky his phone which Bucky took after only a minor internal hesitation, before launching into an apology so heartfelt that Bucky couldn’t really stand to let him continue. Unfortunately, Clint insisted, so he sat uncomfortably while Phil explained how an agency named Hydra had used Omegas natural biological requirements against them. Creating contracts which had essentially landed the Omegas in sexual enslavement. Bucky really didn’t want to hear it, because it made him both enraged that because of his injury there was nothing he could do about it any longer, and sick to his stomach that so many of his own had thought they were taking control of their lives, only to end up in a hell hole. The fact that most hadn’t survived, and the few who had were in for a lifetime of therapy and hospitalization didn’t help. By the time Phil finished, Bucky was walled in on all sides. An Alpha on each side and Clint wedged against him between them. He was horrified, but grateful all the same. He nuzzled Phil’s jaw until the Alpha relaxed against him. “Thanks, Phil,” he murmured. “I know you probably just jeopardized your career for sharing that.” Phil shook his head. “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.” “I’m a big boy,” Bucky replied. “I can handle it.” “You’re off suppressants and imprinted on an Alpha who isn’t around. You’re vulnerable and I exploited that. I’m sorry. You’re my friend; the last thing I want to do is make you feel unwelcome.” “You’re spending the night, right?” Clint asked from below his own chin. Bucky sighed. “You’re spending the night,” Clint informed him. “I don’t think any of us are going to be able to sleep after that, and definitely not with you alone and vulnerable hanging over us.” “I have military grade weapons in my apartment,” he informed him. “And a doorman. Who’s a Beta.” “You’ll sleep in the middle with me.” “I’ve killed people. With my bare hands,” he reminded him. “You’re off suppressants, I’m pregnant and Phil owes us at least three apology meals. Don’t make me hold you here at arrowpoint.” Bucky heaved a sigh. “I didn’t bring anything.” “What’s wrong with your skin?” “Clint,” his mates groaned. “What?!”   “I am so sorry about this,” Bucky greeted Steve with a heavy sigh. For his part, Steve didn’t look all that surprised - or all that intimidated, which really did things to Bucky that had no business being involved in his present position; even if his heat would be starting in a few hours. Light glinted off the metal of the sword tucked casually between them, Wade’s other arm about Bucky’s middle and his body pressed up against his back. Really, Bucky had known better. He had. But Phil and Natasha had insisted - and Clint had undoubtedly goaded them on until casual interest became some kind of protective paranoia - and Bucky had figured if letting them meet Steve and see that he was a nice, unthreatening Alpha just before would keep them from staking out his apartment during his heat - because he knew they would - then it would be worth the time, aggravation, posturing and threats. Unfortunately, Clint had opened his big mouth and told Darcy he was getting to meet ‘Bucky’s Super Alpha’. Darcy - who was in a happily balanced Alpha-Beta-Omega triad - had a habit of going home and telling her mates everything. In concern, Jane - her Beta - had called Pepper, who happened to be with Tony, who immediately called Rhodey, who, of course, called Phil. Thor - Darcy’s Alpha - mentioned it to Peter, who told Wade who demanded he be present to ‘fuck up’ Bucky’s ‘heat toy’ if it came to it. Bruce - the only sane person in their friend group - had called Bucky to give him a head’s up. And that was how Bucky had ended up with four Alphas, a Beta and three fellow Omegas in his apartment an hour before Steve was set to arrive. The only thing that had saved him from complete and utter embarrassment - as if it weren’t bad enough - was the fact that because it was such short notice, several people hadn’t been able to clear their schedule in time for the meeting. Peter had come, even though he hadn’t been able to get the time off, because they were all well aware that he was the only one who could rein Wade in. Steve shifted his weight, using the motion to take in the group, even as Bucky (and Wade’s sword) motioned him in. Bucky shut the door behind him and followed him into the living room where the group waited, Wade still plastered to his back. “This is about Hydra,” Steve said, eyes holding Phil’s. It was a plain statement; without question, though there was a weariness to his tone. Phil regarded him coolly. “This is about Hydra,” he agreed. “I’ve only ever worked at Shield,” Steve informed them. He was calm, actively passive, but Bucky could practically feel the contempt in him. It seemed like the other Alphas could too though, because they all took him in with measured gazes. At his back, Wade’s body was tensing for a fight. His hand had slid low, centered over what was vastly considered equally both an Omega’s greatest strength and their most obvious weakness. It wasn’t the first time one of Bucky’s Alpha friends had done as much to him - it was a protective instinct they often failed to realize - but where he had always found it comforting before, he felt a gnawing irritation now. Steve sighed - more to relieve tension, Bucky thought. “What Hydra did…” He stopped, hands curling into fists and inhaling deeply. Bucky could see the ticking of his jaw. He could tell Phil, Wade and Natasha were in full agreement without prior consultation - they wanted to hear what he had to say. Were testing his reactions to be absolutely certain he was safe to leave Bucky alone with. And while Bucky could understand their reasoning, and even respect their concern, this close to heat, he really had no patience for it. Unfortunately, much to his own displeasure, he’d begun to scent already. Pheromones wafting free of his skin in thickening waves that only further complicated the situation. An unbonded, fertile Omega coming into estrus in an apartment full of healthy, capable Alphas, all of whom he shared emotional ties to - to varying degrees. At present, Steve’s imprint was strong enough that the others wouldn’t consciously challenge him over something like biology. Especially since they were all mated, and in the case of three of them, in the presence of their mates. But, if they thought for any reason at all that Bucky was in danger or did not feel comfortable stepping away, it would be a fight. And Bucky would find himself herded away into a safe corner with Clint, Darcy and Peter to wait out the destruction of his apartment. Which would likely end in him being forced to ride out his heat alone. After being nearly smothered in Alphas, the mere thought of it… He didn’t mean to make any noise, but he had all the same. The pained sound drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Wade bumped his nose against the back of Bucky’s head and drew him close to check his front for injury. Perhaps concerned he’d caught him against his blade. Steve met his eyes, and Bucky watched the fight go out of them. The anger draining from his system leaving a visible change in him. He straightened, chin lifting and turned to the others as Peter crossed over - taking a slightly wider path around the unfamiliar Alpha - and pressed up against Bucky, head tipping back over his shoulder, which immediately enraptured Wade. Bucky could feel him relax against him and Peter eased Bucky from his grasp, taking his place. Bucky swept a hand over Peter’s hip in thanks as he stepped free - knowing well enough to remain in Wade’s bubble until things were settled, else risk an unprovoked incident; Wade could be difficult to predict. “Is this an intervention?” Steve asked the group at large. Clint stood from his seat and moved between his mates, looping his arms in one of each of theirs to ground them. “No,” he replied cheerfully. “We really did just want to meet you. Well, Darcy and I really, really wanted to meet you. The rest of them are here for the bragging rights.” “Hi!” Darcy said, stepping into focus with a small wave. “And can I say, wow. I mean, my Alpha is a God, but you’re just…” She waved her hands around, as if to encompass all of him, then squeezed both hands together tightly and bit her lower lip, making a rumbling sound. “Darcy!” Jane gasped, catching her mate by the shoulders. “What?!” Darcy defended. “Look at him! He’s absolutely perfect! No wonder Bucky’s glowing! It’d be physically impossible not to after having his-” “Darcy!” Jane dropped a hand over Darcy’s mouth, the Omega’s nostrils flaring above her skin. Jane turned to Steve. “I am so sorry! Darcy’s just…” Steve smiled, some of the tightness in his shoulders easing in amusement. Omegas wanting him was familiar territory. Even if it was just a playful flirt from a happily - and well cared for, Bucky fucking knew - bonded Omega. “It’s all right, I understand.” Bucky inched closer to Steve. Steve, who had weathered a psychological ambush by putting Bucky’s needs first. No one had ever put him first, and Bucky wanted to shove Steve down and ride him and he didn’t care who the fuck was around to see. That thought might have come across rather loudly if the way Steve’s head swiveled, eyes focusing on him was any indication. He inhaled deeply and didn’t exhale right away. Bucky swallowed thickly, feeling the spike in arousal like a full bodied burn. “Well,” Pepper said, clearing her throat. She was taking covert inhales through her slightly parted lips, Bucky noticed. “I think we’ve done enough damage for today.” She shooed at the group with her hands. Clint grinned and started for the door, towing his mates along behind him. Pregnant belly looking almost like the bow of a ship as he navigated the hormonal soup the air had become. “Really nice to meet you,” he told Steve as he passed him. Steve nodded. Jane ushered Darcy out by the shoulders. The smallest Omega pausing by Steve and making a sweeping motion with both hands before giving a full bodied tremble. “You smell amazing!!” she informed him. “SO AMAZING!” Jane gave her an extra nudge and Darcy tipped sideways, stumbling into Jane’s embrace. “Did you smell him?” she asked her mate, leaning into her side. She gave an appreciative moan. “Bucky’s so lucky!” “Let’s get you home,” Jane consoled. “I think you and Bucky may have synced again.” “Come on Wade,” Peter said, tugging his mate’s arm. “We’re going to be late picking up Ellie.” Wade sheathed his blade and threw an arm about Peter. “When are you going to give me one?” Peter huffed a snort. Their daughter had been born of a dalliance with a Beta in Wade’s past. When her mother had died, social services had tracked Wade down. He and Peter - who had been only courting at the time - suddenly found themselves with a baby. Strangely enough, Ellie had brought them closer together. Wade’s love and dedication to his child cementing Peter’s decision to mate with him. They’d been so busy raising their child and with Peter’s body in full nesting mode, dissipating his heat cycle sans suppressants, they hadn’t much had time for any of the ‘fun stuff’ as Wade liked to call it. A lot of people tried to put the blame on Peter’s heat loss, but Wade had equally stopped going into rut, and saw no reason anyone but them should be concerned about it. Which was for the best, because no one dared bad mouth Wade’s family within earshot. But with Ellie in Kindergarten, and their cycles still gone, Bucky knew Peter was beginning to feel the strain. He was younger than Bucky, but he’d had a more difficult home life and he craved a family with an intensity that could startle. Thankfully, he was mated to Wade. It was hard to be surprised by Peter after meeting Wade. They were a perfect match. “You should hang out with Bucky more now that he’s cycling,” Wade informed his mate. “Maybe it’ll rub off.” “Maybe,” Peter conceded. Bucky made a mental note, because it wasn’t the worst idea. He’d talk to Peter after his heat was over. If he could be of any help, he’d damn well do his best. Peter was a good guy, he deserved all the babies he could happily endure. Pepper was the last out the door, smiling at them pleasantly, before closing it behind her. Bucky heard the lock engage and knew Pepper had used her clearance as one of his Alpha powers to lock them in - and everyone else out. She could have engaged the scent flush, but she didn’t and Bucky was grateful she hadn’t. For all the scents swimming around his apartment during a heat could make things uncomfortable, at the moment a scent flush could have broken the mood. If anything, the additional scents seemed to be provoking Steve, who turned to face him, jaw set. Bucky had never seen him anything but pleasant or passionate, and it turned him on like he’d never been turned on before. He practically threw himself at Steve, hands yanking at his belt and fly. “I’m so sorry about that,” he husked, in a rush. The heavy sound of Steve’s belt hitting the floor deeply satisfying. “I didn’t know that it’d turn out that way or I never would have-” “It’s fine,” Steve replied, catching his shoulders in strong hands. “I understand.” Bucky yanked Steve’s shirt open, sending buttons flying. “Yeah, but…” “They love you,” Steve told him. “They wouldn’t have been so close to challenging me over you if they didn’t.” He paused, fingers tangled in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. “I don’t think it would have been a fight.” “Maybe not. I definitely wasn’t helping.” He heaved a sigh, hands smoothing over Bucky’s arms. “I’m sorry. It’s just...the whole thing makes me so angry.” Bucky nosed the underside of his jaw in support. “Look at you...you’re shaking! Bucky, I’m so sorry!” “It’s fine,” he gasped, practically climbing Steve, one leg thrown up high over his hip. “It’s fine! Just…” He rocked into Steve, mewling at the hard length still trapped in clothing. “Please!” “Okay, Buck,” Steve soothed. “Okay…” Bucky gasped, wrapping every limb about him as Steve hoisted him up into his arms. It took him very few strides to carry Bucky into the bedroom and drop him into the downy softness Bucky only ever tolerated when he was heat high. Steve made quick work of stripping them both and rolled a condom on one handed as Bucky squirmed in need beneath him. “Steve...Steve…” “I’m here. Shh...I have you.” “No, no…” Bucky whined and Steve immediately froze. Bucky made a hurt noise and dragged him close with both arms about his neck. “Don’t be gentle with me, Steve! Please, not now.” Steve relaxed into the guiding motion, allowing himself to be drawn close. Bucky buried both hands in golden hair and gripped tight. “Fuck me, Steve,” he gritted out, through clenched teeth, body coiled tightly against the lingering scents drifting through his apartment. “I want you deep and hard and fast. I want you to take me like you need me and I want you to bite me.” “Are you sure?” Steve asked, eyes slightly wide. “Yes,” Bucky replied. “Mark me up! I can’t take it! I feel all tangled up and I-” “I know,” Steve murmured, sinking into the bed and kneeing Bucky’s legs open; pushing forward until he was bent nearly in half. He planted his hands on either side of Bucky’s chest and holding his eyes, entered him in one smooth, strong glide. A clearer headed Bucky would not be proud of the sound he made or the way his face contorted as he was filled so efficiently. Thankfully, small embarrassments were easily lost in the heat haze. Steve dropped their brows together and began to thrust, holding Bucky’s gaze captive. Their noses rocked against one another and they panted into one another’s mouths as he quickened the pace, nearly drawing out entirely before slamming back in. Bucky keened, chest arching and hands scrabbling at the Alpha’s chest. The soundtrack to the first hour of Bucky’s third heat became the sharp slap of skin, harsh gasps, heightening cries and the slide of the bed against the floor. By the time they were locked together, Steve’s back was sporting raised welts and Bucky’s neck and shoulders were peppered with the indentations of teeth, which Steve spent their knot time decorating with bruises. Bucky fell asleep sore and sated and slick with exertion to the pulse of Steve inside him.

Near the Southern Air Temple - Two days before the comet   Kuzon woke up with a start when he heard a twig snap. Ignoring the dread rising in his stomach, he raised his fist engulfed in fire, ready to fight. “Who is there? Stay back!” “It’s me,” a familiar, gentle voice replied. Gyatso seemed more to float above the ground than to walk. “Did they change their minds?” Kuzon asked hopefully.  The meeting with the elders of the Air Temple had been a total disaster. The monks were not at all what Kuzon had expected them to be. They didn’t have Gyatso’s easy laugh. Instead, their faces were strict and they outright accused Kuzon of being a Fire Nation spy trying to set a trap. Despite Gyatso’s intervention, they dismissed the warning Kuzon’s father sent to them.  “ Let the Fire Nation come if they are foolish enough - no army stands the chance against an air-temple,” Abbot Ngapo declared. Kuzon was told to leave immediately. He had left the place bitter, thinking that he had failed, that his father’s sacrifice was all in vain. But now...Maybe Gyatso’s appearance meant that things changed.    “Do they believe me now?” “I’m afraid they don’t. But I do. I do believe you,” Gyatso put his hand on Kuzon’s shoulder. “Your father was a man of integrity and the best friend I’ve ever had. And you are a brave, loyal son. This is why I know you can do this.” “Do what?” Kuzon frowned. He was more than ready to leave this place behind and be reunited with his mother.  Gyatso whistled and a few more figures appeared from the shadows. Kuzon realized that they were all kids - bald and clad in orange and yellow monk apprentice clothes, just like the ones Aang always wore. None of them had their air-bending master tattoos yet.  Kuzon recognized Zam and Chimi from the beach. Aang was not among them.  “You have to hide them somewhere safe,” Gyatso motioned towards the children. That was impossible. “But… I don’t really have anywhere to go. My mother went to her birth island… but I promised my father not to put her in danger.” “Do you know Ta Min?” Gyatso asked. Kuzon had a foggy memory of a visit to an old beach house with his father near Shark-Squid Bone Isle where a small, old lady lived alone. “Yeah…a kind old lady. Made the best mango-cream pie.” “That’s her. I’m fond of those pies myself. Go and give this to her.” Gyatso handed a pai sho tile to Kuzon. “She’ll know it’s from me and she’ll find a way to help you.” Kuzon stared at the white lotus tile in his palm. All of this was too confusing. “But how do we go? I have lost all my money at sea.” “Lucky for you, airbenders come with their own transportation,” Gyatso pointed into the distance where a herd of young sky bison calves waited patiently.  Kuzon’s eyes grew wide with excitement.  “I’ll get my own bison?” That would be neat. Only air-benders could ever have flying bison. The monks kept the herds under tight control. At Gyatso’s signal, one of the animals came closer, blinking her large hazel eyes at Kuzon.  “This is Ghama. She’s never chosen anyone as her companion. I’ve always thought that she was waiting for her destiny. This morning, when they brought you up to the airtemple unconscious, she licked your face. Turns out, she was waiting for you.” Kuzon ran his hands over the shaggy fur of Ghama. She seemed like a gentle creature. “Hello Ghama.” Gyatso nodded.  “You need to leave now. Travel at night, try to stay out of sight during the day.” “You are not coming with us?” Kuzon asked with a heavy heart.  “No, my place is here.” Gyatso waved back that the temple.  Kuzon had one more question. It’s been bothering him ever since he set foot in the Air Temple “What about Aang? Where is he?” Gyatso’s expression changed; the gentle smile was replaced by an inquisitive glare. It felt like he was looking straight into Kuzon’s heart. It was freaky. Kuzon swallowed nervously. Gyatso smiled again. “You are a good friend. I’m going to tell you a secret… If something happens to us, you’ll have to find Aang and help him. Tell him that it’s not his fault and he was exactly where he was meant to be…”  He leaned closer to Kuzon and started whispering in his ears.   -0-  102 AG - Shark-Squid Bone Isle, Fire Nation Zuko turned the map around in his hand, squinting at it. This was frustrating. “It’s supposed to be right here.” “Maybe we took a wrong turn?” Aang suggested looking around. They were in the thickest part of the forest, with nothing but trees and bushes all around. “There is nobody here.” As if to prove the Avatar wrong, a weird-looking fellow dressed in colourful clothes, wearing a flower necklace popped out from behind a tree-trunk. “Not quite true Little Arrowhead. If you keep our eyes open, you’ll meet fellow travellers who can lead you where you are meant to go…” “Little Arrowhead?” Zuko frowned at the guy who was soon joined by two companions dressed in similarly ridiculous outfits.  Aang broke out in a wide smile. “Chong? Moku? Lily? What are you doing here?” “You know these people?” Zuko asked Aang. He seemed to befriend the weirdest people. He was worse than Iroh. Maybe it was an old-people thing. Aang nodded. “They helped us find a secret tunnel near Omashu.” He turned back to the travellers. “I don’t suppose you have a song about lost or hidden airbenders.” “We can always make one up,” Chong replied, strumming a chord on his guitar. “Flying high, flying high, swirling and twirling on the blue skyyyyyy...” “That’s not bad…” Moku nodded, starting to beat the rhythm on his lap. Lily span around. “All together now…” Chong started again the annoying song; this time his companions joined in. “Flying high, flying high…” They all danced; Druk and Momo flew around them in excited circles. Zuko blinked. He pinched himself. No, it was not a weird dream.The situation was spinning out of control. “Stop!” he yelled over the noise. “We don’t have time for this Aang.” He had to get back to the capital and not chase dreams or made-up songs. Aang put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Just wait a little. Last time they were right. At least they got us to the tunnel. We were led here for a reason. They must have the next clue.” “They seem completely clueless to me,” Zuko muttered. Chong wrapped his arms around both of them. “You should listen to your little arrowed friend, Brother. He knows that love will take you to places.” Zuko tore himself out of the weird guy’s embrace. “We don’t want to go to places, we need to find...whatever it is that we are meant to find... and we should be on the move.” He gave a pointed look at Aang who had a penchant to get distracted by song and dance. “Zuko, you promised you’ll listen to my instincts. I feel strongly about this,” he looked at him pleadingly. Zuko sighed in defeat. It was not crazier than all the other random clues that led them here. Maybe Aang was right, maybe the weird dancing nomads were the key. He gave a little shrug. Aang smiled and turned back to Chong. “Right. Let’s try some tunes for clues. Do you have any songs about the sky?” “Oh, do we, my friend? The sky is an inspiration for everyone with poetry in their hearts,” Moku nodded. Zuko cringed. People with poetry in their hearts were terrible. He knew from experience that people with poetry in their hearts were excruciating. Listening to these people sounded worse than Uncle Iroh’s music nights. “Underneath blue skies, I wander with my love…” Chong started a lyrical song. Lily hummed along to the melody. “That doesn’t sound right..” Aang interrupted them. “I don’t think we want a love song. Anything else?” They talked in hushed voices for a little while. Chong strummed a more upbeat chord. “We’ll shout, shout, shout to the sky…” They all danced and swayed to a raucous song that sounded like the stuff the sailors used to sing at the bars whenever they stayed at a port. Aang’s smile started to fade. He seemed a bit less sure of this strategy. “Maybe something about flying bison?” He asked hopefully, not ready to give up yet.  “I know a song about a flying pig chicken.” Chong nodded.  Moku snorted. “That’s a good one.” “There was little pig-chick, over the hills, it was a little pig-chick, bip-bop-bip…” They all danced making flapping wing movements.  “I can’t take this anymore…” Zuko groaned and walked away on the narrow, faded path deeper into the forest, until the sounds of the guitar faded. Both Druk and Momo seemed to have had enough of the music as well; they chose to follow him searching the trees for bugs. Zuko fumed. Aang was getting his hopes up, convinced that they found something important, but all they had was a dead-end. Sooner or later he had to call it quits.  A loud shriek interrupted his thoughts. Oh, no, not again! Zuko leapt through the bushes to rescue Momo. He found the lemur and the dragon entangled, fighting over a small cylinder-shaped object.  Zuko split up the fight, holding up both animals by the neck. “Get along, please,” he scolded them. “Let me see, Momo,” he held out his palm towards the mystery-object. Inside the casing, he found a small scroll. He unrolled it, revealing drawings of a familiar airbending form he had seen Aang use many times. Zuko gasped. Maybe they weren’t lost after all .  “Can you show me, where you found this, Momo?” he asked the lemur. The electric-green eyes blinked in agreement. Zuko followed Momo through the heavy undergrowth to a cave opening. Lighting a fire on his palm, Zuko stepped inside. There were strange signs painted on the wall. Maybe this was the clue.  He ran back to Aang. The strange group was still singing; this time about heart-shaped clouds. Aang was lying on the ground with a resigned expression on his face.  “Aang, I think I found the clue,” Zuko pulled him up.  “You see, Brother? Music will lead the open hearts…” Moku smiled.  “But I was not led by your music, I was chased away by it,” snapped Zuko.  “And yet, you ended up exactly where you were meant to go. It sounds to me that we have led you there after all.” Chong said thoughtfully. “Good-bye, little Arrowhead. I hope you’ll find what you are looking for. And you too, Brother. Let the music into your heart.” “Safe travels,” Aang returned their greeting. “A song for the road?” Lily asked.  “No!” Zuko and Aang yelled at the same time and hurried down the path. -0-   Aang traced the carving on the wall with trembling fingers. They were etched in clumsily, visibly done in a hurry. But clearly these were written in the ancient symbols of the Air Nomads. Zam. Chimi. Sang. Kiran. The boys from the Air Temple. His childhood friends. They were here in this cave, long enough to carve their names on the wall. The clearest sign yet that he was not imagining this. The dreams were real. “ They were here, Zuko.” Simu. Dhozi.  “Who?” Zuko asked with a frown. Kuzon. Aang heart skipped a beat, remembering how he and Kuzon taught each other to write their names in the ancient symbols of their nations.  “These were the other boys at the air temple. We used to play together. They were here. They were here with Kuzon. Why else would their names be on the wall?” “Maybe they came here travelling before the war? You traveled all over the place, didn’t you?” Zuko asked, still skeptical.  “I was the only one. Gyatso thought it was important…” of course he would. He had already known that Aang was the Avatar. He knew it was important to feel at home in all the four nations.  “So they came here after you left?” “Don’t you see? They must have escaped.” This was the proof he was searching for. The voices from his dreams wanted him to come here. Aang felt hope soaring inside him. “You know what this means? There must be airbenders somewhere out there.” “Aang… Even if they were here a hundred years ago…even if they escaped… that doesn't mean…” Zuko bit his lips not wanting to finish the thought. He didn’t have to. Aang knew exactly what he meant. It doesn’t mean that they survived. “If they are out there, why didn’t they come to you when the war ended?” Of course, Aang asked himself this question. Most answers he could think of, he didn’t like. But there had to be other possibilities that he just couldn’t think of.  “I don’t know. But our next clue must be here.”  They searched the cave, but there was nothing else on the walls. Aang turned the ground upside down with earthbending, but there was nothing hidden in the soil either.  “There is nothing here, Aang. It looks like the end of the road,” Zuko sighed heavily.  Aang shook his head stubbornly.  “I refuse to give up now. Maybe - maybe if I meditate here, I can find some answers in the spirit world.” “Fine. But after that we go home,” Zuko said firmly. Aang sat crossed-legged and closed his eyes. He found himself in an empty green meadow. The spirit world was utterly frustrating - Aang still had no control over where he would land in any moment. “Hello! Is anyone around?” he yelled because the eerie emptiness of the place was unnerving.  “What are you yelling about?” a grumpy voice hissed.  Aang craned his neck until he saw the half-bird, half-frog creature sitting on the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bother. I need to find an old friend of mine,” Aang explained. “Maybe you could help me? I’m the Avatar…” he added. His title wasn’t nearly as impressive in the spirit world as in the human world, but ho knew, it might be helpful.  “A human friend? They are not here. Luckily,” croaked the frog-bird spirit. “You can try it there behind the hills. There are humans there…” Aang bowed to the spirit and dashed off for the hills. As he reached the top, he saw swirling fog in the valley; it echoed with voices of pain, voices of despair. Human voices. Aang hurried towards the fog.   Before he reached the edge, the spirit of Roku appeared and blocked his way. “Aang, you can’t go in there,” he warned sternly.  “Roku!” exclaimed Aang with irritation and relief. “You have to help me. I need to speak to Kuzon. He knows where the airbenders are.”  “You can’t go into the Fog. It’s playing tricks on your mind. You would be lost there, your memory slowly fading,” Roku explained. “It’s worth the risk. I need to find my people.” “You are the Avatar, Aang. The entire world is your people. They can’t lose their Avatar. Not now when the peace is so fragile.” Aang’s heart sank. “But how am I going to find the answers?” “You already have everything you need…The spirit realm cannot be used as a shortcut to solve the puzzles of the human world.” “So you can’t tell me anything at all?” An amused smile appeared on Roku’s lips. “Did you know that my wife used to make the best mango-cream pie in the world?” “I meant something important,” Aang grimaced. He was really not in the mood for listening to Roku’s love life. “Something connected to my search." “We are all connected,” Roku explained. “You, me, the frog-bird spirit. Mango-cream pies are important, Aang.” Aang sighed. Maybe Zuko was right. Maybe it was time to call it quits. -0-    Druk curled up in Zuko’s lap to sleep. He listened to the dragon’s soft snores sitting motionless, not wanting to disrupt his nap. Aang sat with eyes closed and from the grimace on his face, he seemed to be having an unpleasant conversation. Zuko yawned, trying to keep his eyes open, but it was a long day of flying and a long week of strange dreams and a long year of endless work…   The orange-red curtain of the house blew in the wind carrying a sweet smell. Zuko stepped inside.  “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.” A grey-haired, old woman greeted him from the corner. Her eyes were familiar somehow.  “Do we know each other?” Zuko looked around the small kitchen.  “In some ways,” the old woman walked slowly to a chest and took out a parchment and some ink.  “Why am I here?” Zuko asked her. “Only you can answer that. Your search led you here,” shrugged the woman.  “If you know something, you should tell me,” Zuko scowled at her. His scowl usually went a long way of getting things he wanted, especially since he became Fire Lord. But this woman just smiled in that frustrating I-am-in-on-a-secret-you-have-no-idea-about way Iroh sometimes did. She pulled out something from the oven and put it in front of Zuko. “Here. Have some mango cream-pie.” “I didn’t come here for a pie. I came here for answers,” Zuko huffed in annoyance. “I can only offer you the pie. It’s quite tasty,” the woman winked and took a slice for herself.  Zuko knew that it was just a dream, which made the pie only a dream pie, but he took a piece anyways. Surprisingly it tasted exquisite - sweet and tangy. It reminded him of something. “It tastes like a memory. I remember now - it was my mother’s favourite. I think she once said that there was a special family recipe that was passed down.” “Indeed, family recipes are important…” nodded the old woman with a twinkle in her eye, as she scribbled something on the parchment.  Zuko leaned over, trying to make out the symbols, but the house, the woman, the parchment all went up in smoke.  “Wait!!!!” yelled Zuko but the dream disappeared.   He woke up with a start, the same time Aang’s eyes popped open.  “Any luck?” Zuko asked. Aang’s grimace didn’t bode well. “No. A waste of time. Just Roku prattling on about how his wife made the best mango cream pie.” That couldn’t be a coincidence. “Wait. He said mango cream pie?” “Yep. He said - and I quote - mango cream pies are important, Aang.” Aang said on a deep voice, with a very bad imitation of Fire Nation accent. “How am I going to do this if I can’t even get my former life take me seriously?” he sighed dramatically. Zuko bit his lip. He could stay quiet. He could end the wild goose-rabbit chase right at this point and go back to the palace. But the mango cream pie had to mean something. Roku must have said that deliberately.  Which also meant that the old lady in his dream was his great-grandmother. “I think he was trying to give you a clue, Aang. And I know where we are going next…” “Wait? What? Where?” Aang’s face changed from shock to surprise to confusion. “Ember Island…” smiled Zuko. “Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”   -0- 102 AG - Fire Nation Royal Palace   Iroh was already in the dining room when Azula arrived. He stood up heavily and bowed politely when he saw her enter.  “Uncle,” Azula returned the bow as superficially as she could get away with. He still made her uneasy. And it was frustrating that Zuko called in the old man whenever he had some important business with his ragtag team of ridiculous friends. “Niece. Just in time for a nice cup of tea,” he smiled pleasantly. “Let me guess - ginger,” Azula sniffed into the air. “You know me too well,” chuckled Iroh. “It’s the best thing to refresh after a long ride on the airship. I was hoping you could bring me up to speed?” he gave her a sly look. It made Azula feel like she was under cross-examination. “Why? Your spy network is slacking?” she asked sharply. Iroh took a long sip from his cup watching her above the brim intently. “If you are referring to the White Lotus, Princess Azula, I have to disappoint you. It’s more a group of fellow pai sho enthusiasts, really.” Azula held up her hands to stop him from going off on an endless pai sho tangent, “In any case, Uncle. Our spy network is reporting trouble from the provinces. There are those organizing against Zuko.” The pleasant smile on Iroh’s face was replaced by concerned wrinkles. Predictably, he was fully interested now.  “That is troubling, indeed. Do you know anything about their plans?” “I would, if Zuko weren’t so damned stubborn about his high-minded ideals.” Azula stared into Iroh’s eyes. This was her window of opportunity to interrogate those people. All she had to do was convince Iroh that the Fire Lord’s safety took precedence over pipe-dreams of peaceful reign. “Uncle, it’s up to us to do what it takes if he won’t.” Iroh looked uncomfortable. “Zuko hopes that our people can change,” he said evasively, staring into his tea cup as if the steaming liquid could provide the answer to the dilemma. Azula felt his hesitation, so pushed on. “You know I’m right, don’t you? If we don’t nip this rebellion in the bud, we are risking an all-out civil war. He listens to you.” “We need to consider carefully…” “Princess…” a fearful voice interrupted. “What is it? Who are you?” she snapped at the intruder who started shaking immediately under Azula’s firm gaze. He dropped to his knees even though Zuko had put an end to all kowtowing in the palace as soon as he became Fire Lord. “I’m the Archivist. You ordered to see immediately what we found about Councillor Kuse.” Right. Zuko’s cryptic request. “So what did you find?” she asked impatiently.  “I am afraid this is all, Your Highness,” he handed her a small scroll. Azula unrolled the parchment. It read: On the order of Fire Lord Sozin, we the members of the secret tribunal find Councillor Kuse... The rest of the document was scratched out. Iroh peaked curiously over her shoulder. “Does this have to do with the mysterious mission of the Fire Lord and the Avatar?” Azula ignored his question. “But this is all blotted out. What does this symbol mean?” she pointed to the top left corner. “It’s the Vault, Your Highness,” the Archivist explained. “What is the Vault?”  “The most secret archive of the Fire Nation that had been sealed by Fire Lord Sozin himself, Princess Azula. Only the Chief Archivist knows of its existence and it can only be opened jointly by the Fire Lord and the Great Sage.” “So it’s an even more secret secret archive?” Iroh asked slightly amused. “Did you know this, Uncle?” Azula turned to him accusingly. It was troubling that there would be something of this importance in the Fire Nation that she wasn't aware of. “I had no idea,” Iroh shook his head. “So take us to this Vault,” Azula ordered. “But the Fire Lord... is…” the Archivist stuttered. Azula pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows into her most intimidating scowl. “My Uncle is interim Fire Lord. Or do you question his authority?” “No, Your Highness... Highnesses. Of course not. I will send for Great Sage Shiyu at once,” the Archivist bowed to both of them, his hand trembling and retreated from the room. The Vault was hidden under the palace, accessible through a secret corridor even Azula didn’t know about. They paused in front of the heavy door, decorated with a huge dragon head with sparkling red eyes.  “It is said that the door can only be opened by lightning bolts, shot at the same time into the two eyes of the dragon,” the Archivist explained. Dragons and lightning. It was so Sozin. Azula felt the familiar empty pangs under her skin as she watched Iroh and Shiyu go through the circular lightning-bending motions, blue sparks crackling around them. The red eyes lit up as the lightning reached them, and the door opened with a loud creak. Cold, musty air hit them in the nose.  The room was filled with long rows of filing cabinets. The Archivist lit a flame in his palm and examined the inscriptions. “It’s the same filing system as our normal archives. I should find it in a moment.” He pulled out drawers at amazing speed. “Here it is, the file on Councillor Kuse. It’s entitled the Solstice Conspiracy.” Azula and Iroh leaned over the parchment reading it together. The members of the Solstice Conspiracy, known traitors and Air Nomad collaborators who questioned, opposed and attempted to stop Fire Lord Sozin’s glorious conquest. For their heinous crimes, we, the secret war tribunal sentence them to death: Councillor Kuse, found guilty of intending to disclose secret war plans to the enemies of the Fire Nation, Fire Sage Shin, found guilty of destroying all known information about the identity of the Avatar, General Miku, found guilty of attempting to murder our beloved Fire Lord Sozin, General Rinoko…. Azula looked at the long list of names. People who questioned Sozin’s plans. People who tried to stop the attack. People...who could have perhaps changed the course of history. People who were believed to be traitors then but would be celebrated as heroes now. Fire Nation citizens with the capacity to think for themselves, to march against the beat of Sozin’s bloodthirsty drums, to risk their lives for what they believed was right. Idealistic fools, if they thought they could get away with it.   Still, the names spoke of a history that Sozin wanted to bury because those ideals threatened his plans. Azula couldn’t help but wonder if it would have made a difference had she known of the dissenters. If she was free to make up her own mind. Iroh put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you see it now?” he asked quietly. 

The blue flowers in the meadow Keith has come to call Lance’s Meadow glow, casting soft light. Every sound they make is caught by the flowers, answered with flicks of light from the flowers. “Lance,” Keith murmurs from where Lance is sitting in his lap. His eyes are soft and warm, touched with an edge of uncertainty. His hand slides further down Lance’s back, pressing where his spine meets his pelvis.  “I want…” Keith’s breath hitches and he opens his eyes, biting his lip like he’s afraid to say it. He rocks his hips up into Lance’s, making his breath catch.  Lance shifts his weight, lifting one hand to cup Keith’s cheek.  “Are you sure?” Keith sighs, pressing into Lance’s hand. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He bites his lip again and that trepidation is back. “I’ve just- I’ve never…” He takes a steadying breath and holds Lance’s gaze.  “I’ve never done this before.”  Lance feels his insides go all soft and gooey and light at the same time. He’s so overwhelmed for the amazing man beneath him he nearly cries.  He lowers himself further down and Keith spreads his legs, cradling Lance’s body between his knees. Lance kisses him, slow and sweet until he feels Keith relax again. He rolls his hips just slightly, adding pressure more than friction between them and Keith whines, arching up as Lance kisses his way to Keith’s ear.  “Want you so bad,” he whispers, breath dancing across the shell of Keith’s ear. Goosebumps ripple down his arms and Keith shivers. “Want you inside me.”  Keith bites his lips around a groan and Lance sits back, running his thumb along the bitten bloodless skin.  “Don’t,” he pleads. Keith’s eyes are hazy and dark when he opens them. “Wanna hear you.” Keith releases his lip with a whine, and flushes. His lip swells, blossoming pink and Lance catches it with his own teeth, sucking on it, soothing away the tenderness with his tongue. Keith’s fingers find their way into his hair, holding him like he’s precious and Lance feels that urge to cry again. He’s never felt so wanted, so desired, or so trusted before in his life.  When he pulls away Keith lifts himself off the ground, chasing his mouth, lips parted and wanting.  “Come here.” Lance takes Keith’s hand, pulling them both upright until Keith is sitting in his lap, knees bracketing Lance’s hips. He feels his jeans growing damp from the soft ground but can’t bring himself to care.  “If this gets overwhelming,” Lance says softly, tucking Keith’s hair back, the other arm around his waist, “I want you to tell me.” Keith’s hands flex on Lance’s shoulders. “We can stop. At any time, for any reason. I'm not gonna be mad.” He strokes his thumb over Keith’s cheek. “I just want you to feel safe and enjoy it. Okay?” A smile pulls at his mouth. “It’s supposed to be fun.”  Keith blushes, ducking his head to hide against Lance’s shoulder.  Lance’s hand strokes up Keith’s back under his jacket and he can feel the heat trapped in the material, like Keith has been in the training room instead of lying in the damp grass.  He feels the warmth of Keith’s shuddering breath against the side of his throat as he sighs.  “Okay.”  “Okay what?” Lance prods gently and Keith sits back. “I’ll tell you. If I get overwhelmed or we need to stop.” He flushes as he says it and Lance kisses his burning cheek.  “Promise?” he asks, lifting his pinky up in the air between them and Keith laughs.  He rolls his eyes but loops his pinky with Lance’s. “Yes, I promise,” he says, fond exasperation in his voice.  He kisses his own thumb, watching Lance over their entwined hands while he does.  He turns bashful a moment later.  “You’re gonna have to guide me,” Keith manages, throat tight with embarrassment. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” The corners of his mouth pinch like he’s afraid of disappointing Lance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”  Lance kisses him until the tension bleeds away, sliding his tongue against Keith’s lazily.  “You won’t,” he promises. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I like.” He pets Keith’s hair back, marveling at how soft it’s gotten.  “Trust me,” he whispers against Keith’s lips.  “I do.”  Lance cups the back of Keith’s head, tipping it and kissing him, long and languid. His other hand slides over Keith’s chest, slipping under his jacket to his shoulder and pushing at it gently.  “Can I?” He asks, waiting for Keith’s nod before kissing him again, slowly pushing the jacket from his shoulders. Keith shivers under the touch when Lance’s fingers drop past his sleeves, meeting skin.  The air rushing in to touch him is warm but Keith still shivers, goosebumps rippling down his arms, leaving him cold as the jacket slips down his elbows.  Lance kisses along Keith’s throat to the hollow, Keith tipping his head back, encouraging Lance with a hand to the back of his neck. The jacket partially restrains his movement but Keith doesn’t care. He hums and makes little noises as Lance dips down to kiss along his collarbone. His fingers abandon Keith’s jacket to stroke over his chest, seeking out a peaked nipple from the cold.  When he touches it Keith whines, rocking in his lap and Lance’s hand on his back holds Keith firm as he sucks a hickey into his throat. The noise he makes when Lance pinches his nipple, rolling it, is embarrassingly loud, tapering off into a whine in his throat.  It makes Lance’s cock twitch in his jeans, heat pooling in his belly. He does it again, a little harder and Keith makes that sound again, body shuddering as he rises up on his knees, body arching.  “Fuck, Lance,” he cries and Lance takes his hand away, wrapping it around Keith’s waist, crushing them together. He rolls his hips up into Keith, face still buried against his throat.  “God I love the way you sound,” he groans and Keith’s fingers finally ease in his hair, soothing along his scalp.  “‘m glad it’s you,” he breathes, pressing his nose into Lance’s hair. He smells warm and sweet and like the flowers around them.  “Never wanted you so badly,” Keith murmurs and Lance’s fingers fist in Keith’s shirt.  “You have to stop talking like that or I’m not gonna be able to take it slow.” His breathing stutters against Keith’s throat and he takes a minute to calm down, pressing soft kisses against Keith’s skin.  “You okay?” Keith asks, stroking his fingers through Lance’s hair.  “Yeah. I just really love you.”  Keith flushes, lifting Lance’s face from his shoulder to look at him. No one’s ever looked at him like that, like he was a star or a supernova, something to be marveled at and admired. It makes his stomach clench and his heart skip.  “I love you,” Keith chokes, kissing him. He kisses Lance until they’re both dizzy, fingers dragging Lance’s jacket off him and throwing it to the side. He yanks on the bottom of Lance’s shirt, trying to pull it off without making Lance let him go.  “Thought you were nervous,” Lance teases and Keith nips his bottom lip scoldingly.  “Never was very patient,” he mumbles and Lance lifts his arms, allowing Keith to remove the shirt.  “Why are you still dressed?” Keith grumbles, reaching for Lance’s belt. “Wanna touch you.”  Lance grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks, dragging a guttural sound from Keith as he does. His hands freeze in place, hovering above Lance’s hips as he trembles, lips parted and god he looks so beautiful. His lips are kiss swollen and his throat works over another moan as Lance ducks his head, leaving a bruising kiss there.  “Lance-” he whines and Lance growls.  “So impatient.” He finally eases his grip in Keith’s hair, letting him raise his head. “You’re supposed to be better behaved,” he scolds.  “Make me.”  Lance grinds his teeth against his knee-jerk reaction to throw Keith to the ground and fuck him senseless. Next time.  “Should have known you’d be a brat.”  Keith grins. “I don’t know what that means but probably.”  Lance cradles Keith’s weight as he lowers him down, using his own jacket as a kind of blanket against the grass.  “Fuck, I don’t have-” “I do,” Keith cuts him off, fishing into his back pocket for a small packet of lube and a condom.  Lance’s eyes widen in surprise.  “You planned this,” he accuses.  Keith rolls his eyes. “Of course I did. This video was the moment I realized I was in love with you. Of course I’d want you to fuck me out here.”  Lance groans, his head tipping down to rest against Keith’s sternum.  “Why is that romantic? Damn you.” “I hadn’t planned on actually using the condom to be honest.” His cheeks flush and Lance lifts his head, his own cheeks warm.  “Keith,” he gasps with delighted surprise. “Did you want me to raw you?” he teases. Keith’s face goes bright red in the dark.  “Yes,” he admits and god that does things to him. Lance groans.  “God that’s hot.” He sits up, taking both from Keith and straddles him. “Next time,” he promises, kissing the tip of Keith’s nose. “Right now I want you to make sweet, sweet love to me while I ride you.”  Keith’s hands fall to Lance’s hips, squeezing and Lance grinds down into him, rocking his ass against Keith’s cock.  He wastes no time stripping them out of their remaining clothes and opening the lube packet. Keith watches intently as Lance covers two of his fingers, setting the packet within easy reach and reaches down to slowly slide a finger over his hole. He keeps one hand on Keith’s chest for balance as he slowly presses shallowly inside. His cock twitches in the air and Keith’s mouth waters at the sight.  “Can I-?” The words come out gravelled. Lance opens his eyes, following Keith’s gaze. “Yeah.”  Keith swallows thickly before reaching for Lance’s cock, fingers touching him carefully. When Lance groans, rocking his hips, Keith grasps him fully, giving a slow drag.  Lance’s mouth falls open, face distorting with pleasure as he presses deeper, fucking himself on his fingers as he presses another inside.  “Tighter,” Lance gasps, stomach clenching when Keith tightens his grip.  He works himself open, scissoring his fingers until he can press a third inside. He wants more stimulation but it’s hard to press against his prostate from this angle. Keith’s free hand slides up and down Lance’s thigh, feeling the muscle quiver and tense.  “Lance.” His voice comes out dry and he has to clear his throat, still watching as Lance pumps his fingers.  Lance opens his eyes, looking down at Keith. He sees him watching and presses as deep as he can. “Wanna try?” Keith groans, the hand on Lance’s cock tightening as he nods.  Lance pulls his fingers free, feeling empty as he does. He takes Keith’s hand and coats his fingers with the lubricant, guiding them boldly to his entrance. Keith flushes as he presses them against Lance. His body gives, drawing Keith’s fingers into him and Lance groans, hand still holding Keith’s wrist as he rocks. “Curl your fingers,” he gasps, cock bouncing in the air as he lifts and drops his hips.  Keith does and Lance’s body arches like a drawn bowstring, quivering and tight.  “God, right there. Again.”  Keith does, sliding his fingers down and back up until Lance is whining and desperate. He doesn’t let up, other hand stroking Lance’s cock until he collapses into Keith’s chest with a shiver.  “Stop,” he begs. “Stop, Keith-” Keith immediately freezes. “What did I do?” Lance shakes his head, sweaty hair sticking to his face.  “Nothing,” he gasps. “Didn’t do anything wrong.” Keith pulls his fingers free and Lance whines again. “God, gonna cum,” he pants.  Keith grins. “Yeah?” Lance nods, pressing his cheek to Keith’s chest. His thighs are burning.  “Want you inside me.”  Keith reaches for the condom, tearing open the package and rolling it on as Lance grabs what’s left of the lube, slicking him up. He shuffles forward, until they’re aligned, guiding Keith’s cock to his hole and pressing against it.  He bites his lip, slowly sinking down a little at a time. Keith’s nails dig into Lance’s hips, leaving red lines behind.  “Perfect,” Lance moans, “so perfect. Dios mio you’re so perfect .” He’s flush in Keith’s lap, their bodies pressed together and quivering as Lance adjusts. Keith strokes him slowly, trying to chase off whatever pain Lance might be feeling with pleasure.  He slowly begins to rock, hands on Keith’s chest for leverage. He opens his eyes, staring down at him as he bounces on Keith’s cock, alternating pace and rhythm, repeating what makes Keith’s eyes roll into the back of his head or his breath hitch, clenching around him again and again.  He pulls back far enough the head of Keith’s cock catches along his rim before dropping back down, hard, making them both groan. Keith arches up off the ground, forgetting to breathe and Lance does it again and again, pounding into his prostate as he does. Precum drips from the head of his cock over Keith’s fingers and his thighs burn. He bends forward, trying to ease the pain and Keith grabs Lance thighs, knifing up into him. Lance’s body clenches with a cry, his hand covering Keith’s on his cock and guiding it as Keith buries himself in Lance and cums.  Lance squeezes the head of his cock with Keith’s fingers, Keith still thrusting into him shallowly, his other hand coming to cup Lance’s sac. He rolls his balls and Lance shudders, body twitching and shaking as he finally cums. It’s been too long since someone touched him and he never thought it would be Keith.  His legs hurt as he lays across Keith’s chest, blinking back tears with a jagged gasp.  Keith’s hand strokes up Lance’s sweat slicked back.  “Lance?”  “Ngh,” he manages, blinking back tears.  “Hey.” Keith pushes at his shoulder and Lance props himself up, both of them groaning as Keith finally slips from him.  “What’s wrong?” Lance shakes his head, wiping at his tears. He can’t get the words out so he just kisses Keith.  “I love you,” he finally chokes. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” His features crease as he pinches his eyes shut. “God, you’re my whole heart Keith.”  Keith feels tears prick at his own eyes and he forces himself to sit up, carrying half of Lance’s body weight with him.  Lance shakes his head, his face buried against Keith’s throat. His chest aches with how much he loves Keith. It’s overwhelming.  Keith kisses his shoulder, holding him close and cradling Lance.  “I never thought you’d be mine,” Keith whispers. “You’re so out of my league.” Lance snorts. “You’re such a dumbass.” “I’m serious.”  Lance sits back, pushing Keith’s hair out of his face.  Keith searches Lance’s eyes, the lights from the flowers reflecting in his already impossibly blue eyes.  “You could do so much better than me,” Keith whispers. It hurts to say but it’s true.  “Bullshit,” Lance chokes, anger thick in his voice but more on Keith’s behalf than at him. “There is no better than you.” Keith’s heart flips and he feels tears wet his lashes when he blinks.  Lance cups his face in his hands. “You make me happy,” he whispers. “Happier than I’ve ever been. You make me feel less alone. You’re the balance to all of my weaknesses.” He shakes his head slowly.  “God I could take on the world if you’re with me,” Lance breathes. “You make the impossible possible. I’m so much stronger and braver when you’re with me. You make me confident. Not just fake confident but the real thing. I know you’ll always have my back.” He runs his hand over Keith’s hair.  “When I reach for you, you will always be there. Always. That’s who you are.” Tears slip down his cheeks and Keith brushes them away.  “You mean so much to me,” Lance cries. “I don’t think you’ll ever know-”  Keith kisses him and holds Lance tight.  “You’re my whole heart too,” he manages and Lance cries harder, overwhelmed with love and relief.  ~ They help one another dress, Lance blushing as Keith does his belt for him. Somehow it feels more intimate than the sex. Lance pulls him into a kiss, Keith dropping another to his mouth before he pulls away. They walk back to the castle ship hand in hand

If Stiles hated high school parties, he absolutely loathed high school dances. The music was too loud, the air too thick with awkward hormones and shitty punch. What even was punch? Weird, that’s what. It was even worse now with his deteriorating condition and he wondered if Derek was even here. It must be wreaking havoc on his senses. He’d been searching for ten minutes now but he couldn’t find the wolf and he was starting to get dizzy so instead he found a solitary corner and spoke in a clear voice, at normal volume, “Derek. Derek, are you here? I need to—we need to talk.” Stiles closed his eyes, “If you want—I want—” He groaned, unable to organize his thoughts, “I’ll be out on the lacrosse field. If you—if you still—” He sighed, pushing through the crowd and out into the dark night. He lay in the center of the lacrosse field pondering life and death. He’d been doing that a lot lately, since his birthday, trying to comprehend the life cycle. He’d wished for Derek a hundred times. So he wasn’t sure if he could trust the image coming towards him now. He didn’t speak as he sat near Stiles’ shoulders cross legged. It took him a long time to meet his eyes and when he did Stiles saw his own misery reflected back at him, “Hi.” Derek’s voice sounded rough, as if he hadn’t been speaking in a while when he replied, “Hey.” Stiles sighed, looking up at the night sky and moving one hand lazily over the grass while the other rested on his chest, “What do you know about witches?” He felt Derek’s eyebrows and nearly smiled, “They’re similar to Druids and Emissaries. Drawing on the power of nature and the elements. Most are frauds, using old spells and such but a rare few, true witches, have active powers. They correspond with the elements, fire, water, earth, wind.” Stiles nodded, “Why are they so rare?” Derek scowled and Stiles couldn’t tell if it was because he was clearly working up to something or if he was reacting to the answer he was about to give, “Back when they were prevalent, witches were known to be kind of elitist. They didn’t mix with other supernaturals unless there was money involved and they never interacted with humans. That left little option when their population started dying out. A few left and started going out into the world but most stuck to their stupid ideals and just died out.” Stiles gritted his teeth as he nodded, “Have you ever heard of the Silverleaf family?” Derek tilted his head, “Earth witches, I think? They could control things like plants and stuff.” His voice trailed off, his eyes on the hand Stiles was running across the grass. He knew he’d be able to see even in the dark that with one swipe the grass turned yellow and died then with another swipe it turned lush green again. “What about the story of the lost Silverleaf daughter? Heard of that?” Derek didn’t take his eyes off Stiles’ hand as he shook his head. Stiles nodded, looking up at the sky, picking the grass before reconnecting it to the ground below, “The Silverleaf family was one of the last to die out. They were all pure breeds, just like you said and they controlled the element of earth. The last in the line was a woman, good news because she could breed with other witches; older if need be to reproduce heirs. But she was a bit of a trouble maker, liked to question things.” Stiles’ heart stuttered when Derek’s mouth quirked up. He kept talking, “She just didn’t buy all that bullshit about pure breeds. She didn’t know if a child she had with a non-witch would be magical but she also didn’t really care. What had magic done for her but make her a breeding puppet?” His voice hitched and then there was a hand covering the one on his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief as he intertwined their fingers and continued, “She disappeared, used her magic to do it for a little while but magic leaves a trace, another reason for her to hate it. She stopped altogether, just in time to meet a going nowhere deputy in a small shit town.” The tear rolling down his cheek was caught in Derek’s warm finger and Stiles closed his eyes, “She fell in love and when she decided to marry him, she decided to go all in on the human life. So she bound her powers with a powerful, difficult spell and moved on. And she was happy. She was happy with her boring little life and her boring little flower shop. Her boring police man husband and her boring over active son.” Stiles choked and had to sit up, Derek’s hand on his shoulder helping him. He turned and mirrored Derek’s position, their knees brushing, “Thing is,” he continued with voice clogged with tears, “Once you accept it, magic is a part of you. And if you lock that part away, eventually you’re going to start deteriorating.” He shook his head, squeezing Derek’s hands in his own, “She knew there were people who could help. She knew there was an Emissary nearby and a powerful werewolf pack who were known to help stranded supernaturals.” His laugh was hollow as Derek squeezed his fingers nearly too hard, “But she’d made a vow, to live a human life. And that meant a human death. So she wrote a note which turned into a journal. She wrote down everything she could think of before wrapping it up with her Grimoire to be given to her son on his seventeenth birthday.” Stiles took a steadying breath, the hard part was over. He moved slowly, just in case as he slipped the knife from behind his back and set it in the grass between them. Derek didn’t even blink, “She didn’t know if he was even a witch. You don’t come into your powers until you’re seventeen.” Stiles touched the tip of the knife with his finger and turned it counter clockwise until the old tome lay before him. He glanced up at Derek who was staring down at the book, “That’s not all though.” He murmured, brining Derek’s attention to his hand which was pressed into the grass beside them. They both watched as a dark flower grew up and bloomed, “A witch has two months to decide if they want to keep their powers.” Derek’s head snapped up to look at him and Stiles smiled sadly, flipping Derek’s hand palm up and tracing up and down his fingers, “It’s as simple as saying a few words but once it’s done, it can’t be undone. If you say no, you can never do magic again. Not even a simple spell. But if you say yes, it’s there, forever unless you do something like my mom and we know how that turned out.” Derek squeezed his fingers and Stiles plucked one of the blooms, starting at Derek’s palm and tracing it up a finger, watching as it caused a claw to grow. The claw looked broken and cracked, much like Stiles’ heart. Derek must really trust him, because he let Stiles continue. When he moved the bloom up towards his nail, it would elongate and as he moved it back down, the claw would retract. “If you had the choice to give up being a werewolf, would you?” he said quietly and watched Derek’s fingers flinch. He smiled sadly, “No, I guess you wouldn’t. You’ve had eighteen years to be a werewolf; you know the ups always come with downs and vice versa. But what if—” Stiles choked slightly, “What if your mom did everything she could to never be a wolf again? What if she died for it? How could you accept that as a gift? How could you respect her memory? So do I give up magic and honor my mother? Or do I accept the thing she hated most in the world?” He stopped drawing the flower over Derek’s palm, feeling the weight settle on him. Derek’s hand landed heavy on the back of Stiles’ neck and strangely, it made him feel lighter, “You can’t refuse this, Stiles.” Stiles looked up and Derek sighed as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “You may have only received these powers but they’ve always been a part of you. You know my mom killed that moon flower in two days? I looked it up, they’re incredibly difficult to cultivate. But you did it almost effortlessly with no power to speak of.” Stiles bit his lip and looked away. Derek’s fingers drifted over his cheek, “Your mother made the choice she had to make but she didn’t want to make yours for you. That’s why she left you that journal. That’s why she left you this.” They both looked down at the Grimoire, the complicated leaf design adorning the cover, “Magic was bad for her. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be good for you. She wouldn’t have given you this if she didn’t think you could make magic what it’s supposed to be.” Derek turned over their hands and looked at the flower still in his palm. Stiles sighed, picking it up and holding it out near the stem. The flower’s life cycle reversed slightly, to the point where Stiles picked it off and it reached out to pull it back in. “It’s something my mom made. Foxglove mixed with wolfsbane. It can’t hurt you.” He said quickly, glancing up at Derek only to find him completely unworried. Stiles smiled softly before stroking the bell shaped flowers that fell in a cascade from the stem, “Before she disappeared, she was working on a way to identify other supernaturals. I think she was already planning her escape and she wanted to steer clear of them. I’m not sure why she chose foxglove but the wolfsbane is obvious. There’s not much in there, just enough to draw out your shift slightly. It’s beautifully sad looking isn’t it?” They looked at the flower that really was an exact replica of foxglove, only it had the deep cool color of wolfsbane, the petals such a dark purple, they appeared black. Stiles touched the base of the stem and watched the cycle spin backwards as the blooms closed, turned to buds and then the stem grew shorter until is disappeared completely. He dragged his hand over slowly, touching Derek’s knee before landing on the book, “Have you ever seen a Grimoire?” Derek shook his head, glancing up so their eyes met briefly before looking back down. Stiles flipped it open, “It’s pretty cool actually. A mix between a spell book, a beastiary and a magical artifact. The pages change. I’ve read it eight times and found something new each time. It also learns.” He stopped on the newest entry about Darachs, a sketched image of Jennifer Blake added to it. He felt Derek stiffen and took his hand, “There was already stuff about Darachs. That’s how I knew what it was. But when it touches something in its other form, it learns. And when I—” Derek squeezed his fingers and he nodded, “When I killed her, I think it took some of her memories.” He trailed a finger down the entry, “I didn’t know about any of this. About the alpha pack.” Derek nodded, “My mom and a few others took care of them. What happened to Jennifer Blake was enough to bind them together in a singular cause. They aren’t a problem anymore.” As he said it, they watched the entry change, a foot note being added, strangely in Stiles’ handwriting about the alpha pack being disbanded by Alpha Hale and friends. Derek smirked at that last part and Stiles felt himself smiling too, “You’ve had a busy week.” Derek groaned, “My room is the over flow guest room. Mom says Cora and Laura are too messy.” He pouted, “I miss my bed.” Stiles frowned, “Why not go to the loft?” Derek’s eyes flicked up, “Because. That’s our place.” Stiles swallowed thickly before looking down and flipping pages, “There’s a ton in here about werewolves. They’re a pretty plentiful supernatural but there are a few things worthy of note.” He stopped flipping and pointed as he began to read, feeling Derek stiffen as he did, “The Alpha Command is a power rarely used. The alpha’s power is dependent on the strength of the pack as a whole and when an alpha continues to circumvent the feelings of others, it weakens the pack and causes dissonance.” Stiles glanced up, “I don’t want to cause any dissonance.” Derek shook his head, looking uncomfortable, “I didn’t like it, but I understood it. I wanted to tell you, you have to know that.” Their eyes seared into each other as Stiles nodded, “I do now.” He saw hope flicker alive and real in Derek’s eyes and Stiles ducked his head flipping the page, “I want to read you another entry.” Derek squeezed his hand in acceptance. Stiles took a deep breath and began, “The werewolf mate is something that is difficult to describe. It is not an obvious thing but if one is paying attention, they can usually pinpoint the signs.” His eyes flicked up at Derek to find him concentrating, he kept reading, “The first notable sign is that the wolf will be drawn towards its mate inexplicably. The echo of their bond pulling at it even when it is not fully developed. The mate, wolf or not, may experience the same thing.” His eyes flicked up again and this time Derek smiling softly. He kept reading, “All of a wolf’s natural instincts will be heightened around their mate and they might be known to do any of the following: say I love you very early in the relationship, try to be touching their mate at all times, feel the need to protect their territory and become jealous of others touching their mate even if they are pack. They will want to leave their scent on their mate in any way which may include: scenting, continuous claiming marks, and sexual acts.” He shot Derek a raised eyebrow and his grin widened. He kept reading, “Sexual intimacy is very important in a mate bond and should not be taken lightly. Sex, especially unprotected sex, leaves the couple smelling like each other and claimed for weeks.” Stiles flushed, remembering the blow jobs they exchanged in the bathroom stall at school on Derek’s birthday. His family had to have been able to smell that. “The wolf may experience difficulty controlling their shift during sexual acts and may have to relearn control. This is due to high levels of emotion that result from a sex bond. Wolves are warned to be careful if their mates are not fellow wolves.” He glanced up and found Derek blushing; he couldn’t help his smile, knowing now why Derek needed the blindfold. He paused, tilting his head, “Was the Kate thing a lie?” Derek winced but shook his head, “Not really. She did critique everything I did, including my face and body and ya know.” He blushed again, “But she never knew I was a wolf and I’ve never had trouble with control until you. Not like Cora.” Stiles frowned, “That’s what she’s doing in South America? Learning control?” Derek nodded and Stiles hummed, “And that’s why you went at Christmas?” Another nod and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he looked down, “Didn’t help that much.” Derek squeezed his fingers and he bit his lip, about to start reading before pausing and looking back up, “Oh and by the way, you have the face of an angel, the body of Greek God and your cock is one of the seven wonders of the world. Moving on.” He felt Derek’s grin on his skin as he continued reading, “Sex is also one of the ways the bond is strengthened although shared traumatic events or prolonged exposure will result in the same thing. The strongest mate bond will result if the couple spends eight hours or more in each other’s company for no less the four days a week, with communication between the two constantly even when they are not together. They will have a strong and healthy sex life and find it difficult to stay away from each other or keep their hands off each other. They will also likely have shared at least one traumatic experience, usually a life or death instance.” Stiles didn’t want to think about watching Derek’s wolf whimper so he moved on, “The wolf is not the only one who will experience the draw of the mate bond. All of the aforementioned symptoms will most likely appear in the mate, wolf or no in a variety of ways. Something that has been observed more in the mate, though it is not altogether uncommon for the wolf to feel it as well, is the desire to bare their neck. The mate will not only know instinctively how to calm their mate and rile them up, they will also instinctively know how to communicate in wolf terms. The baring of the neck often means submission but it can also be seen as acquiescence or consent. When a mate bares their neck, they are more than likely feeling the pull of the bond and the love they have for their wolf.” Stiles rubbed his neck, feeling the need to bare it now but knowing it wasn’t time yet. He was happy to remember that Derek had often bared his neck as well. A hand came up to cover Stiles’ and he let his hand drop away so Derek could touch. He nearly bared his neck just from that but he was almost done with the entry. “A werewolf mate bond can be a glorious thing, making both the wolf and their mate stronger and more fulfilled. However, with great connection there can also be great loss.” Stiles felt Derek’s hand tighten on his neck, he read on, “It is so common that this text might even say inevitable that when one member of the bond passes away, the other is sure to follow swiftly.” Derek growled and Stiles brought his hand back up to cover his, to give comfort, “Perhaps the only way to truly prove a mate bond is in death or when the bond is severed, damaged or drawn taught. When this happens, expected symptoms include: decreased rate of healing, decreased reflexes, looking wan or ill, lack of sleep, lack of motivation to do anything at all. A non-wolf will suffer all of these and more but the wolf will also show outwards signs of deterioration. Their claws will begin to crack and break and the most notable: their eyes will shift but they will no longer glow. It is recommended that the bond is healed quickly through any means necessary or the result may and often will be death.” Stiles took a shaky breath, closing the Grimoire and spinning it before sheathing the knife and finally looking up. Derek looked tired, completely on the edge of collapse and Stiles felt much the same way. But the book didn’t mention the need. The screaming clawing need inside that felt like it was carving him from the inside out. Maybe he’d add that. And a lot more about the mate side of things. That entry was way too geared towards wolves. Stiles lifted a hand, tracing it along Derek’s cheek. Understanding what he wanted, Derek closed his eyes and when he opened them Stiles had to hold back from crying out. Derek’ eyes were yellow but they were flat, flatter even than his normal eyes, like they were made matte. A whimper escaped his lips as he threw all pretenses out the window and crawled into his lap. Derek held him tight and fast, their eyes never leaving each other. “I’m sorry.” Stiles whispered but Derek was immediately shaking his head. “No. I should have been there for you. I should have been at your side not chasing down stupid monsters.” Stiles shook his head, “You were doing your duty as a pack member. As a Hale. You were saving lives. I understand that, I do.” “But you didn’t know because I couldn’t—” Stiles made frustrated noise, “I know that now. I just didn’t before. I thought you were hiding it because you thought I’d freak out.” Derek shook his head, “Everything, Stiles. You have every piece of me. Even when I couldn’t tell you, you knew. With the moon flower and the blind fold. Fuck you knew when I was in control and when I wasn’t and that night at the Nemeton…” Stiles flinched and Derek squeezed him tighter, “You knew it was me. I could see it in your eyes. You took one look at my wolf form and you knew.” He shook his head, “I should have known you needed me.” Stiles shook his head, looking down, “You’re not mad about that? Me approaching a wolf in the forest on a full moon?” Derek huffed a laugh, “I can’t say I was thrilled to see you there. Especially since we were tracking the Darach but I looked at you and I thought—Maybe. Maybe you could figure it out on your own. I had all these plans to plant seeds where I could. Even considered not holding back when we…but then you woke up and you just knew and I—” Stiles smiled, placing his hands on Derek’s cheeks and memorizing his face all over again, “I did figure it out on my own. I mean I had a little help but you didn’t break your command. You didn’t tell me. I’d like to think I’d have gotten there eventually.” Derek put his head on Stiles’ shoulder and just breathed for a moment, “You definitely would have. You’re so smart, Stiles. You’re smart, beautiful, funny, kind, fierce.” Stiles pulled back, wiggling his fingers, “and now I can control grass. Don’t forget that.” Derek grinned and Stiles felt the need to trace his lips with his fingers. Derek pressed a kiss to his fingertips and spoke even as Stiles held his fingers there, “I think you should accept them. I think it makes sense, you with magic. But whatever you decide. You’ll figure it out. And if—if you’ll have me. I’ll be at your side the whole way. I’ll never stop showing you how sorry I am and how much I—” He shuttered before he glanced up, his eyes yellow and Stiles swore he saw the faintest glow, “How much I love you.” Stiles just stared at him for a long time, his hands moving over his face, making up for lost time. When he was ready, when he could bear to look away, he simply closed his eyes and let his head fall back and to the side, showing his wolf how much he loved him. Derek growled and Stiles let out a soft moan as he felt his lips descend, marking Stiles as his, as claimed.

“GAH! What was that for!?” “You had a hair sprouting between your eyebrows. That’s not very ladylike of you, is it?” “That’s just an excuse and you know it!” Even now, on the verge of his punishment, Yosuke and Chie found a way to argue. She sounded like she was enjoying whatever makeover Hell she was putting him through a little too much. “There’s some leg hair showing in this outfit, too. Good thing I brought the wax.” “Don’t you dare!” Yukiko, meanwhile, sounded like she was the star of a PG-13 slasher film. She was a nice person and all, but there were times when that girl went downright sadistic. Kanji felt no shame in being afraid of her, at least a little bit. “GYAAAAAH!” ...Okay, a lot a bit. He had never heard hair pull off like a velcro strip before, and he hoped to never hear it again. At least he didn’t have to see it. Their classroom underwent another transformation to serve as their dressing room. It was a more relaxed transition this time, though. Curtains went up to preserve everyone’s shame as they underwent their makeovers, and each little station had a makeup desk with a mirror. Simple, but it got the job done. Not that he knew how to use any of this shit. Which is where his own help came in. “Tilt your chin up for me, okay?” Seeing as he hadn’t pissed the girls off, they were a lot more gentle with him. Rise made as much of the process simple as she could. Kanji, in turn, did whatever she told him to. She was the expert here, not him. He felt a slight tug on his eyelashes as she used the mascara wand thing on them. “There. How does that feel?” She knew better than to ask how it looked, because they both knew the whole point was to look ridiculous. Kanji blinked a few times, getting a feel for the extra weight on his eyelids. “Feels fine, I guess.” That was about the best answer he could come up with. How was it supposed to feel being dressed up like a doll? “Is this what you girls go through every day? Man, if dudes knew how tough looking pretty was, they wouldn’t be talking so much crap.” “Aw, does that mean you think we look pretty?” Rise giggled while she worked on his other eye, much to his embarrassment. “Wha? I mean, yeah, but...” “That’s sweet of you to say.” She capped the mascara wand with a flourish, dipping into the pile of stuff for whatever step came next. “But you really shouldn’t be flirting with other ladies in front of you girlfriend~!” “Would you please stop teasing him now?” Naoto squinted at his cheek, her focus broken. “It’s hard enough to use this foundation stuff when you’re not making his skin change color.” Change color? Then that meant he was… Yeah, he felt the heat there. That was a blush. Shit, Rise would never let him hear the end of it. “Sorry, I can’t help it. This big bad punk gets worked up so easily.” Kanji’s eyes locked on the mirror in front of him in an attempt to force a cooldown. He could still see the punk looking back at him, but he wasn’t nearly as rough and tumble as usual. Every pass of Naoto’s brush took a bit more of the edge off his cheeks. He could still glare with the best of them, but the effect was confused when it was framed with big, black, luscious lashes. The lipstick Rise was coming in with promised to blend the signals even further. “Give me a little pout now. You have to cover the insides of the lips to make it look all even while you’re talking.” He stuck his lips out how she wanted, but the cold touch of the lipstick almost made him jump. “Sorry, I should have warned you. It gives people a warm look, but this stuff can be cold in the tube.” She got him to sit still before she tried again. “You’re listening, too, right Naoto?” “Huh? Me?” She stopped what she was doing to stare at Rise in surprise, but then she slumped a little as she recalled. “Oh, right. I have to go on stage later, too. I was trying to block that out for the moment.” “Hey, is Naoto getting sad over there?” Chie’s question was followed by another round of waxing, with Yosuke’s scream echoing twice as hard. “Does that help?” “It does for the moment, but I don’t think it will last into the afternoon.” Naoto was about to start again with a heavier heart before she jumped in to add, “No need to do that again for my sake. The effort is appreciated.” “Okay.” Rip. “I’ll still do it for ourselves, though.” “You’re a demon, Amagi! A demon!” The lipstick pulled away, and after popping his lips together as instructed, Kanji had to throw in his two yen. He didn’t really have anything helpful to say, though, so maybe a joking offer would help? “You think if I put a hole in the stage while I’m up, they’ll have to cancel your half of it? I could totally do that.” “Absolutely not!” Naoto was shocked by her own outburst, reeling her composure back in before elaborating. “While I know you could follow through on that idea, it would also be destruction of school property. G etting out of a pageant is not worth you potentially being expelled.” It was flattering to hear her say it, but now they were back where they started, with Naoto working herself up into a lather and Kanji being powerless to help her in the moment. As far as he was concerned, that meant he owed it to her to make sure his one good plan turned out right. “It’ll be bad for today, but I swear, I’ll make sure no one in this building’s talking about it later. All eyes on me, damnit!” “That’s the spirit!” In the next station over, Yu was doing his own work. After all they’d been through together, it was easy to forget that one of the first things Yu did after Kanji joined up was go out in drag to make him feel better about his Shadow. Kanji guessed he was going to pull the same look as back then. “Remember, the crowd can feel it if you’re only going halfway. To make your act work, you have to believe you belong on that stage. Believe you’re the best looking girl up there, and no one will tell you otherwise.” “ Yes, Sensei!” Teddie’s presence in the room had almost gone forgotten. Whatever he was doing in his station, it was dead quiet. Actually, come to think of it, the only thing he went in there with was the bear suit on his back. How was he doing any work without makeup? “I failed to follow your lead before, but I’ve learned so much since then. Today, Teddie will prove him… I mean, her self the prettiest girl in Inaba!” “Ooh, is that a challenge?” Rise got an evil glimmer in her eyes. Kanji was at once stoked and mortally terrified. “ It’s personal now, Kanji. You’re going to do us proud out there. Right?” “R-right.” He couldn’t lose nerve now. Rise was on his side. If he couldn’t hold up under her scrutiny, what chance did he stand against a crowd of those shitbirds he called classmates? “Ah, this dress still fits like a glove. My compliments to the seamster!” “Wait, pull that back a step, Ted.” Wow, Yosuke was managing to say something that wasn’t a tormented cry for help. Chie and Yukiko must’ve been getting tired. “Did you get Kanji to make you a dress just for this stupid pageant?” “I made both of ours.” Somehow, seeing himself in makeup made admitting to his sewing feel a lot less embarrassing. Like comparing a stick of dynamite to a primed torpedo. “No way in Hell I’m making two dresses in a day again, but I’m proud of my work.” “And you didn’t make one for me? I look like a total creeper in this throw-together schoolgirl getup!” “Are you insulting our work, Hanamura!?” “No, not the wax! Not the wax!” Served him right. He didn’t deserve to look pretty after getting all of them into this mess. Yeah, pretty. Kanji looked pretty! He repeated that in his head over and over again until he started to believe it. If he believed it, so would everyone else. And that would mean drawing eyes away from Naoto. He looked up at her, and though anxiety ate at the corners of her expression, there was a new glimmer of hope, too. “ Senpai, we’re gonna crush this pageant, yeah?” “Into pieces.” “Itty-bitty pieces!” “Speak for yourselves!”   -   “Ladies and gentlemen!” While he wasn’t the main act of the day, the announcer they picked for the pageant sure looked like a clown. Pink afro wig, big red bow tie, and a pair of sunglasses that looked like they were ripped out of a cheesy secret agent flick. He was still wearing the normal Yasogami uniform from the neck down, but it kind of added to the ridiculousness. While he hyped up the crowd, the ‘lovely ladies’ of the day were lined up just offstage. It was hard to get a good look at each other in the unlit space. Even with the stage lights bouncing off of the pink curtains a few feet away, they could only see the vague outlines of anyone more than six inches away. That was all they needed to see how Yosuke quaked in his heeled loafers. From his spot at the front of the line, he could spy a sliver of the crowd arrayed to laugh at his misery. It wasn’t a one-hundred percent attendance situation, but a sizable portion of the school was out there. Everyone would know what went down on that stage. “Why do I have to be the first one to go?” “Age before beauty.” Kanji smirked with all the sadistic glee in his heart. He was fully intent on rubbing the salt in until the wound was red and raw. The catharsis of beating up shitheads who pissed him off, without any of the jail time or sore knuckles. “An eloquent heiress of the noble Junes, she’s pure disappointment from the moment she opens her mouth!” Speaking of wounds, that sounded like their cue. Yosuke backed away from the edge as the guillotine prepared to drop. He found out quickly that he was stuck between the razor and a hard place. Specifically, Kanji. “Oh no you don’t. Get out there and take your damn medicine.” “Presenting Yosuke-chan of second-year Class Two!” The introduction ended, and Kanji shoved Yosuke out to meet it. He scrambled to stay on his feet, but by the time he found his balance, he was caught like a deer in the spotlights. The sea of spectators stretched far in his eyes, and his heart dropped like a cold rock in his chest. His outfit was a Frankenstein’s monster of women’s apparel. Knee socks stretched up out of heeled loafers, the closest thing to high-heels they could bully him into. A plaid skirt barely covered his hips. It did absolutely nothing to hide his shiny, freshly waxed thighs. If that was all someone saw, then maybe they could have mistaken him as an actual girl. From the waist on up, though, his act was as transparent as it was ridiculous. The sweater vest was baggy in all the wrong ways on his thin, boyish figure, to a degree that not even the big red bow on his chest hid how little he filled it out. His makeup looked like it was applied via a pie to the face. It sat awkwardly on him, a slapdash layer of femininity that was as unnatural as a rubber Halloween mask. The pink spots on his cheeks couldn’t even hide how his skin went flushed at the unwanted attention. In the third row from the stage, Chie was apparently having the time of her life. She laughed long and hard along with most of the crowd, pointing at the scarecrow she had created as it sat exposed in the field. “Look at him go! He looks even better under those bright lights, don’t you think?” “Oh yeah, he looks great!” Yukiko miraculously managed to get that much out while she choked on her own laughter. Her hyena-esque cackling was recognizable even with the room around her making as much of an uproar, but she couldn’t care less. For all that Yosuke’s perversion had put her through, this was sweet revenge. She was going to enjoy it down to the last bite. “He looks like a newborn deer taking its first steps.” While she wasn’t joining in on the outright mirth around her, Rise was more than happy to chip into the teasing. Alongside that, though, she was getting a good look at the results of their torture session. “Wow, you two really worked the wax. I don’t see a hair on those puppies.” “Yukiko did most of the planning for that. I just yanked where she told me to.” “It takes a lot of practice to get hair removal just right.” The two were starting to wind down, though the occasional giggle kept bubbling out of Yukiko as hiccups. “It takes even more to make it not hurt too much. Although, I might have ‘forgotten’ that lesson for a minute.” Anyone who heard the screams that morning considered that she had not forgotten the lesson, instead inverting it to great effect. “You all have taught me a valuable lesson of late.” Though Naoto was preemptively trying to disappear into her coat and hat, she watched Yosuke’s punishment with due diligence. “Vigilante justice has its place in cases like these.” “The justice is only starting, you know.” Rise nudged her, shoulder-to-shoulder, and tilted her head towards the stage. “Just wait until they get to the questionnaire!” “Now, Miss Yosuke.” The style of address chosen made his skin squirm, which the announcer took as a sign to keep going. “I must say, you really stand out in that little number. Tell me, do you dress like this often?” “Hell no!” He all but snarled at the idiocy being aimed at him. In the corner of his eye, though, he saw Chie starting to glare at him. He was breaking character, and she made it clear how that would end up. Memories of searing pain directed him back to his humiliating character. “Uh, I mean… Like, no way! Hehe…” Forcing a high pitch made his throat itch, but at least it got Chie to stop psychically threatening him. “Could have fooled me! It takes a lot of confidence to wear something that bold.” The announcer held his mic out to the crowd. Even without it, he could make his voice boom loud enough to fill the auditorium without losing its goofy edge. “This poor girl is feeling shy. Let’s hear some encouragement, people!” By the executioner’s order, Yosuke found himself flooded with cheers and mocking catcalls, all underscored by yet more laughter. He heard a few of them talking among themselves, totally oblivious that their whispers weren’t quiet at all. “Oh god, that’s so creepy!” “I know! He looked so cool in that suit yesterday, I thought he could pull it off. I guess I was wrong.” “You don’t think he spends all his Junes cash on a whole weird wardrobe like that, do you?” Yep. It was official. This was the single worst day of Yosuke’s life. The girls wanted revenge, and their revenge was absolute. His body was still on stage, but his soul? That died long ago. “We’re only just beginning, so strap in! Our next contestant is a runaway express train who’s Inaba born and bred, and can kill with both her fists and her looks.” That could only be one person. Kanji rolled his shoulders, working out any tension left in his muscles. He had to make a big splash out there, even if it killed him. “You got this! You da man, Kanji!” “Thanks, Ted. All eyes on me.” “Presenting Kanji-chan of the first-year Class Three!” The crowd was on the edge of their seat for this one. Everyone knew him as the punk who had narrowly skipped jail time, and now he was starring in a clown show like this. It was going to be one to remember. Far be it from Kanji to disappoint them, then. He pounded a fist to his chest, then he strutted into the limelight. He glared out into the sea of people, and they stared back in shock. Maybe the thin layer of oil on his rippling muscles flashbanged them senseless. He shined like a bodybuilder up there. Or maybe it was the dress and wig. He only had the time to throw something simple together for himself, and he remembered an old American actress he could use as an inspiration. The folds of his white dress billowed as he stomped to the lineup, and his long, golden locks shimmered as bright as his muscles. The pearl earrings were a small touch he borrowed from his Ma, which… Well, it wasn’t easy to ask for them, but she didn’t hit him with too many questions. The crowd, meanwhile, was asking a million of them. Most of them stayed in their own heads, but plenty were blurted out. “Is that really Tatsumi?” “What am I looking at?” “Did he finally snap?” He had their attention all right. He just had to keep it, and burn the memory into their brains. He reached the velvet carpet, but before the announcer could shove that damn mic in his face, he showed that his voice could boom just as loud. “Sup.” He might not have snapped, but he certainly broke the tension in the crowd. They were losing themselves in a fit of laughter. Any sense of intimidation he had instilled in them over the years, be it intentional or otherwise, was suddenly flipped on its head. “Oh god, that voice, that dress… None of it matches at all!” “He’s a walking quilt!” “Hey, give him some credit. His eyeliner is actually even.” “Thank you!” Rise threw her arms up, not that anyone paid her mind as they pointed and laughed at the second drag queen. “I don’t care what anyone says. I think he looks nice.” “I could actually see him fitting in with that sort of crowd.” Yukiko made the comment offhandedly, but when she glanced over to Chie, she was getting an odd look in return. “What? We sometimes get crossdressers passing through the inn. Not a lot, but I think his looks could genuinely fit in with them.” “...If you say so.” Chie took another good look at Kanji, but she couldn’t help the chuckle rising in her. “I just think it’s funny with how he’s so focused on being ‘manly’ all the time. What do you think, Naoto?” A few second passed with no response. That wasn’t like the usually prompt detective, so the three looked over at her. She was staring intently at the stage. Most of her face was hidden by the collar of her longcoat, but her eyes were locked in place. Chie reached across Rise and started snapping her fingers. “Hey, Naoto! Are you there?” “Huh?” She was flung abruptly back into awareness, and found herself the center of her group’s attention. It was like a pageant in microcosm, which only intensified the nervousness in her response. “Uh, yes. Of course.” “It… wasn’t a yes or no question.” “Oh? It… I-it wasn’t?” Slowly, Rise’s trademark knowing grin bloomed into place. That scrutiny was enough to bring the red of Naoto’s cheeks creeping past the collar. “Don’t worry about it.” She brought a hand up to pat Naoto’s back approvingly. “I think we have enough of an answer right here.” “...I do not like the way you’re looking at me. What was the question?” “Now, don’t rip me apart for asking.” Attention was yanked back to the announcer, who was the only person not somehow stunned by Kanji’s entrance. He was a professional, no matter what his general demeanor implied. “But what would you say is your, best feature?” Kanji grinned. He knew just how to bounce off that one. “My guts.” He leaned into the mic and flexed down. His presence was amplified by the surround sound speakers. “All of you are down there laughing, but you wouldn’t be so ballsy if you were up here in my heels. I can look pretty and kick your asses!” Many of the boys looking on went quiet all of the sudden, but the girls were still laughing. Near the back, one of them nudged the guy next to her. “Yeah, he’s right! How come you’re not that brave?” “Uh, well…” Off to the side of the room, one guy had a hand on his chin and a concentrated look on his face. Finally, Daisuke hummed affirmatively to himself. “Never thought about it like that before. I guess there’s more than one way to be tough.” From his place on stage, Kanji could see how he hit them all. No one expected to have the pageant’s joke thrown back in their face, eh? Strong start, and he had the whole show left to make it better. Yosuke glared at him, his embarrassment all the more painful next to Kanji’s complete obliviousness to how humiliating this was. Did the girls plan for that, too? Because it felt like an intentional dig against him. “You sure got over your Shadow, didn’t you?” “Yeah.” Kanji dropped his voice to a pointed hiss, and the half of his face obscured from the crowd ticked up into a smirk. “What’s wrong, need a hug?” Ah, it had been a long time since Yosuke felt that kind of chill run up his back. He could still remember those macho bastards from the bathhouse. He would never forget the way they ogled him, like a cut of prime meat they wanted nothing more than to pounce on and devour... All thought stopped for him in that moment, and his mocking surroundings came into sharp focus as the clouds in his mind parted. Exposed, defenseless, used for someone else’s selfish amusement. In these stupid clothes, he was less than human to the crowd, letting them laugh at him without any guilt. They didn’t care how it hurt him. Not as long as they got their kicks out of it. Was that how the girls felt when he pulled stunts like this? “We have an energetic zest this year, ladies and gentlemen, and we’re only halfway through introductions!” The show went on without him, paddling off as he fought to stay afloat. The laughter bubbled down, and the announcer continued. “Our third contestant is a new face in town, but she’s already turning heads and taking hearts. She has the mildly bitter tang of the city, and she’s made more girls cry than there are stars in the sky.” The girls watched that stage intently, letting the guys pick up the shattered remnants of their dignity in peace. They’d all heard about the next one within a day of his name winding up on the board. It had to be some jealous guy’s shot at ruining his biggest competition’s reputation, or so the rumor said. That didn’t stop them all from needing to see the city-slicker contend with this old Yasogami tradition. “Presenting the transfer student that every girl wants and every guy wants to be, Yuri-chan of the second-year Class Two!” The first click made the room stop dead. It was like the snap of a branch in the middle of the woods. The second click was as sharp as the first. With the third, the stalking tiger emerged from the trees. Sharp, crimson lipstick drew the eye first. It was a slight line, just enough to underscore the tight, unimpressed frown. Her eyes shared in that pointed disinterest, sweeping over the crowd as if they were so many grains of sand. Her rigid, imperial posture only cemented her position over them. Waves of silver followed, her hair swaying like a banner over her wooden sword. It was only a practice weapon, little better than a prop, and yet, the way she held it made it feel as dangerous as a real blade. She held it over her shoulder firm enough that it didn’t waver, but loose enough to convey that she felt no threat from those around her. She felt no danger, because she was the danger. “Damn...” Yosuke snapped out of his funk when she entered the lineup. Even with the infamously massive Kanji in the way, her presence towered over them. “He didn’t go nearly that far with the getup last time.” If he didn’t know for a fact that it was Yu under all that, he would’ve thought an empress had stormed the stage. Any hint of masculinity left in him was redirected and obscured in the act. “Woo, you didn’t turn the charm down at all, did you?” Once more, their showman wasn’t fazed by the intensifying performances all around him, still standing up as the ringleader of this circus. Actually, that made Yosuke think; where’d the laughing go? The crowd was still quiet, trapped in the tense moment of his entry. They were just, staring, blankly. It was as if their minds couldn’t process what emotion this called for. They didn’t expect anyone to actually pull off the crossdressing act. Oh well, Yosuke thought. The dam would break when he spoke. His unmistakable, flat voice would remind everyone of who he really was, and the gap between what they knew about him and what they were seeing on stage would kick the comedy switch back on. “So, you heartthrob, I’d say you’ve taken the stage like a natural. Did you sign yourself up, or did some loyal fan ask, nay, demand, for you to show off to the world?” He was pushing up the ham in his performance. He didn’t let the crowd’s lack of reaction affect him outwardly, but the announcer took it upon himself to break through their silence with his best effort yet. The only immediate response was from Yuri, who sneered at the ridiculous question. “I don’t take orders, I give them.” Her speaking was a kick alright, but not the way Yosuke imagined. He was gobsmacked; that wasn’t Yu’s voice at all. He sounded exactly how he looked, like some empress! That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t physically possible. The last time he tried to sound different, he broke every window on the north wall of the school. How could he go from that, to actually sounding like a girl!? Yuri let her gaze pass over him, briefly flicking across the confusion on his and Kanji’s faces. She didn’t speak to either of them, letting them fall from her attention like everyone else, but she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side. This let Kanji see an inch further down her neck. There was a necklace under the collar of her shirt, a metal band with a series of powered lights running across it. No one else could see it, so it wasn’t just a flashy accessory. “Is that some kind of voice changer bullshit? That’s gotta be cheating!” “That’s the part you’re focusing on?” The crowd sank deeper into the fever dream. That was Yu, right? From where they were standing, he hadn’t just dressed up like a girl. He had completely flipped his sex. “Holy...!” Rise sat straight up in attention. She was quick to pick apart all the little pieces that made the outfit work. His Adam’s apple was hidden. Most of his blatantly male figure was underneath the uniform and ankle-length skirt. The backs of his hands were shaved, and his nails were filed to a lethal point. The way he held his jaw shifted the angles of his face. His mouth was restrained to a smaller space. Every little sign that he was a guy had been accounted for and dealt with, either by smart clothing choices or careful maintenance of his movements. She had seen some stunning work from teams of professionals before, but this one-person job could stack up to most of them. Naoto woke up from the daze that captured her, studying Yu’s technique from afar as well. He had said it before, and he said it truthfully. He was quite skilled at creating and fitting into roles. Naoto was almost jealous. “You would think his stature and build to be counterproductive to the act, but he has incorporated his natural presence into a vital part of his disguise. Using the truth to strengthen the lie. Clever, Narukami.” “Not to mention hot.” While everyone around them was stewing in various states of confusion and discomfort, Rise had nothing holding her back from speaking her mind. She liked what she was seeing. “He was right about the confidence thing. He’s owning it up there.” “Yo, Yukiko!” Chie found herself snapping again, this time to catch Yukiko’s attention. Unlike Naoto, whose distraction was crystal clear, it was difficult to tell exactly what train of thought she was being yanked out of by the sudden intrusion. Only Chie seemed to be able to read it at all. “You’re looking at him like you look at Lyn, so you know.” “Oh, I was?” Yukiko was unaware of that detail, but rather than making her scuttle shamefully away from her daydream, the information redoubled her distraction. This time, no amount of snapping was rousing her. Chie surrendered with a groan. “She’s gonna come out of that with some weird question, I just know it.” “Ooh, someone bring the bonfire, because we have an ice queen.” Detached from the delirium of the crowd, the announcer went on, though the way he steamrolled ahead implied some hope that the next contestant would bring his show back to its old tracks. “Don’t you worry if the cold shoulder’s got you down, though. I hear contestant number four is warm to the core. In fact, she might be too sweet to bear.” “Oh no.” Another flash of trauma crossed Yosuke’s face, this one reaching deep into his repressed psyche. “Tell me he didn’t write dumb puns for this thing. Please, spare me that!” “In a never before seen twist, our last ‘beauty’ is unaffiliated, but when she heard her friends were having fun with us today, she couldn’t stay away. So let’s give a warm welcome to our cute, sexy little guest, calling herself the ‘Queen of the TV World,’ Teddie-chan!” At first, the crowd seized up when they heard another resounding click. But then, they realized the pattern they were coming in wasn’t that of a lurking predator. It was closer to the gallop of a baby lamb. Then, the little lamb skipped into view. The laughter was quite decisively back, though it wasn’t quite as vehement and mocking as the first few bouts. With the way Teddie smiled and pranced under all their attention, it was more like they were laughing with her than at her. She was blowing kisses to them with both hands, drawing their eyes to her face without the aid of any makeup. Her wholly natural features were noticeably softer than those around her, complimenting the warm glow of her friendly demeanor. Her clothes, too, rang of innocence. While her competition was dressed loud and proud, she sat comfortably in a more casual, baby blue dress with a white apron, the kind that someone her apparent age might have worn when that was the style. Her long, blonde hair flowed in tandem with its soft ribbons. She skipped this way, then pranced that way, before coming to a stop at her proper spot in the line. From there, she crossed her hands on her chest and bent her knees, bringing her closer to eye-level with her adoring public. “Give me your hearts!” A second wave of humor came, softly lapping as a gentle tide. She relaxed in front of them as if the stage were her beach and soaked in the warm rays of the sun. “Aw, he’s so cute!” “This thing is usually a pack of dorks in dresses and thigh-high socks, but now we get two people who can pull it off?” “Well, they’re both from out of town. That must have something to do with it.” “If that’s how boys look in the city, I’ll stay here. Less chance of… you know...” “I think their hearts are yours, you cutie-pie.” The announcer was demonstrably relieved to have his show back on track. In light of the lightened tone, he was more than happy to play along with the act. If it was, in fact, an act. “You must have come a long way to join us today. The trip wasn’t too frightening, I hope?” “Not at all!” She clasped her hands together and gave the biggest, cheeriest smile. “I wasn’t scare because I knew there would be smiling faces waiting for me. You’re all as wonderful as I hoped!” Cheers went up in support, the audience, her audience, accepting her compliments in kind. “Making the crowd feel special, works like a charm.” Rise nodded in admiration of the masterful tactic in use. “I think he learned that trick from me.” “Is that what you call your schmoozing?” Chie couldn’t bring herself to be properly angry with Rise’s shenanigans anymore, but the way the former idol walked right on through the accusation reminded everyone that she was fully aware of her weasel-like tendencies. “Don’t worry, anyone can learn how to do it. If you want, I could help you. It would make netting that special guy easier~!” “Um...” Yukiko glanced around, making sure no one was listening before she continued. “It wouldn’t happen to help with finding a special girl, too, would it?” Naoto fully expected Rise to pull out some lighthearted teasing at the request. That seemed to be her favorite mode of helping with her own relationship issues. Instead, Rise reached over and set a reassuring hand on Yukiko’s shoulder. “Meet me after school. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” The weight lifted from Yukiko’s heart, freeing her to sigh in relief. While this went on, the announcer made a quick trip off the side of the stage to retrieve a special prop. When he came back, there was a small, wooden ballot box nestled in the crook of his arm and a conspiratorial gleam in his sunglasses. “Alright, now that our lovely ladies are all here, we can start the main event!” He held out his mic just in time to pick up on the cheer that rose from the audience. “As you know, you were all asked to fill out one ballot on your way in today. Each contestant will receive a question from the box.” He dipped his head just low enough to peer out from over his glasses, the sight of his exposed eyes cutting a thin line in the overjoyed performance. “Please note that any questions deemed too ‘risque’ have been removed. We wouldn’t want to hurt Teddie-chan’s innocent little ears, would we?” A few unseen voices in the crowd began to boo at the revelation of censorship. As the stated excuse, Teddie couldn’t help but chime in. “I’m sorry if I’ve made this less fun for anyone...” She wilted, and her bottom lip quivered. With everyone watching her, no one saw where the loud slaps across the room came from exactly, but the jeers stopped cold. “Don’t you worry, there’s plenty of fun to be had!” The announcer’s eyes were hidden again, and the party was back in swing. He clipped the mic to the side of the box before reaching in. The crinkling of paper made Yosuke’s heart clench, because with the guy right next to him, he knew this was going to be a fastball aimed at his forehead. “Yosuke-chan, what kind of date should a lucky fella take you on to win your heart?” That was about as demeaning as he was expecting. He could feel Chie glaring at him again, threatening him with untold horrors if he chickened out. But he found that he didn’t mind. Normally he would be angry or resentful of getting humiliated in front of everyone. His reputation would never recover. This time, though, he knew that it was exactly what he deserved. He swallowed his pride and prepared to take his medicine. “Oh my, this is sudden. I couldn’t possibly choose on such short notice!” The airheaded words stung like hornets on his tongue, and that dumb voice still scratched his throat. The mocking laughter felt like the least of his concerns. “I guess if I had a boyfriend, I would want to have a nice picnic, then cuddle in the shade.” He wanted to throw up. It was like someone else was wearing his skin, with him a passenger along for the ride. Was this how his Shadow felt, being totally ignored while the rest of him did whatever it wanted? “Aw, isn’t that precious? Who doesn’t want a cuddler, gents?” His broiling disgust, both at the pageant and himself, was hidden from the announcer and the crowd as they kept on laughing. He could only hope that Kanji would hit the joke right back at them again. Tangential retaliation was the best he could ask for. “Kanji-chan, are you ready!?” He flexed, as if prepping for a punch. “Lay it on me!” The next ballot came out with a flourish. The announcer paused for a moment, then smiled wider as he read it aloud. “Are there any hobbies you’d want to rope your boyfriend into doing with you?” “That’s, kind of wholesome.” Rise could tell he was rewording the question on the fly. The date thing was slanted towards embarrassment, but hobbies were on much more even grounds. And doing it together? That was just sweet. She didn’t think there were any real romantics watching a show like this. “I wonder who wrote that one in?” “Um...” The pieces clicked before she looked to her side. Naoto was blushing again. And her hand was raised low enough so that only their group could see it. “...Oh ho ho!” There’s the teasing. Naoto was starting to feel weird without it. “I didn’t think mine would actually get drawn...” “Much less for Kanji, hmm?” She scooted closer to Naoto and leaned forward with rapt attention. “Let’s see if you get any ideas here.” “Wait, I know!” The announcer started to flex, too, matching Kanji’s pose. His figure was notably less defined, but he found the spirit in himself anyway. “Weightlifting! Any man of yours is gonna be the toughest son of a gun around, am I right? A matching pair of powerhouses.” “You’re close.” Kanji struck a new pose, a bicep curled up as his other arm pointed defiantly into the distance. “I’ll teach that bastard to knit!” The audience chuckled with the announcer’s act, but Kanji’s return of fire kicked it up a few notches. There were now two clowns flexing their stuff like it was a bodybuilding pageant as they debated the fine art of bonding. “Of course! You’ll make matching outfits together!” “That’s right!” The two were suddenly in perfect sync, rotating through power postures that showed off every square inch of Kanji’s bulky figure. His thin, white dress could barely handle the unbridled machismo. “We’ll be more stylish than every other couple put together! And in Winter, we’re doing a pair of scarves!” “Or even better.” The announcer pointed with all the power he had at Kanji, challenging his presence directly. “One big scarf to share!” “Hell yeah!” Kanji returned the gesture in kind. No one but them had any clue what was going on between them, but they didn’t have to understand it to get caught up in the energy. “We’re gonna kick the cold’s ass together!” “...Knitting, hmm?” Naoto quietly put a hand to her neck, imagining a nice, warm scarf wrapped around her and tying her to someone special. “...I like the sound of that.” “You heard it here first, folks. We’ve got an aggressively affectionate artist that wants to keep you close.” Their host slid out of the burning aura he and Kanji shared and wheeled back into his normal style of address. “Now let’s see how the commanding queen of cold compares.” Yuri observed him with a distant, yet sharp glare as he dove into his box of questions. One could see the hourglass flowing in her eyes. Her patience dwindled with every fallen grain wasted. At last, he pulled out a paper and began to read, unperturbed by her silent menace. “Yuri-chan, what would a guy have to do for you to...” His voice trailed off as his mind caught up with his mouth, making him stop the thought before it could escape. Those in the front row were caught off guard, and the feeling spread as he looked over the room with intense disappointment seething under his glasses. “It seems our screening process missed one. I remind you that explicit content is not condoned by the school. I won’t say a question like this popped if you won’t, so let’s find a more appropriate question and...” He jumped as he felt the ballot being torn from his grasp. Yuri acted too quick to stop, and the way her dispersed disdain focused to a razor point said that she wouldn’t have been impeded anyway. It was a wonder her attention didn’t burn a hole through the paper. “What would I have to do to ‘hit that.’” She let the question sit for the span of a single weighted heartbeat before she crushed the ballot in her hand. Her gaze bore deep into the audience, so frigid that its touch seared. Suddenly, towards the center of the room, she noticed that people were looking at a particular male student. His panicking at their scrutiny intensified with every sign pointing his way. It was too late to divert their attention. The shark had already smelled his blood in the water. “Listen well.” The student could practically feel the point of her sword as she thrust it towards him. He was pinned in place from yards away, her undivided attention freezing the blood in his veins. “If by some astronomical act of mercy I were to allow you within twenty paces of me, you would not be the one hitting.” If she was at all unclear, her driving her sword to the ground with a resounding thwack made her meaning unmistakable. At once, the thoroughly berated student’s skin went as pink as cherry blossoms, and all those who had singled him out began to aim their renewed laughter at him. With the graceless plebeian put in his place, Yuri allowed herself the pleasure of expressing her distaste for him in particular. “The insolence it takes to ask such a thing is beyond belief.” She turned her attention to the announcer, who had backed away from her in reasonable caution. “You may continue.” “O-of course.” He straightened his bow, tapped his mic, and thanked his lucky stars as he reassembled his shattered act into a presentable state. “I hope that keeps inappropriate questions off of my stage from now on. A million thanks, Yuri-sama.” He passed her with only the deepest bow, swinging up from it with a smile as he neared the last contestant. “Let’s cross our fingers and hope we only find the best question for you, Teddie-chan.” “I’m sure we will!” Teddie set about defrosting the stage as soon as the mic was hers. She rocked back and forth on her feet, radiating her sweetest feelings while she waited. The announcer braved his box once more. This time, he was careful to read the question to himself before reading it out loud. The relief he felt was palpable, and his energy was back in full swing. “Do you like your guys tall or short?” He was outwardly all pep and cheer, but the speed with which he clapped that box closed broke records. He wasn’t letting his renewed faith get assassinated so soon. “I can’t possibly make that choice. I would love them either way.” A hand went over her heart, and she closed her eyes as she drifted off to dreams of love. “If they were taller than me, I could ride on their shoulders. And if I was taller than them, they could ride on mine. Their height won’t make me close my heart.” “Aw, you’re just the most precious thing. But, what if you two were the same height?” Teddie opened one eye and pointed up knowingly. “Then we could kiss whenever we wanted!” “Ooh, three for three! There’s no souring your good mood, Teddie-chan.” With all four contestants behind him, the announcer turned to the crowd for the grand finale. “You’ve seen today’s beauties, and they told you everything you wanted to know, whether you should have asked them or not. Now, it’s time to vote!” Across the room, assistants passed about a new set of ballots, and one towards the back went around with a second box to collect. “Which one of our undaunted ladies captured your heart? We’ve never had such a wide selection before, so make your voices heard!” While the votes were collected and tallied, Kanji shuffled towards Yu with a satisfied smile. “I think we did our job well. Right, Senpai?” With the crowd distracted, Yu let his domineering facade fade. He nodded in agreement and turned a dial on the side of his necklace. “Perfectly.” He coughed into his hand with a slight grimace, his voice halfway between Yu and Yuri. More of himself came back as his vocal chords loosened. “This thing hurts my throat more than I remember.” “Then you shouldn’t have cheated like that.” Kanji nudged him, pulling a somewhat hoarse laugh out of his Senpai. “Where the Hell did you even get something like that? Movie bullshit if I’ve ever seen it.” “I made it myself a few years ago.” “Of course you did...” “Did you see me, Sensei? How was I?” Teddie shanghaied the chat at the first opportunity, pulling on Yu’s arm with the excitability of a middle-schooler. Strangely, he didn’t stop talking in his higher, girly voice. Yu happily patted the top of his head. “You’ve learned a lot since the first time you tried cross dressing. Hold onto that quick learning, it’s one of the most valuable skills out there.” Ted’s eyes were wide and sparkled like stars. He jumped back far enough to curtsy properly. “Thank you, Sensei.” With the new angle, Kanji noticed something he didn’t before. Teddie’s face was a different shape than usual. It wasn’t in the same way as Yu, who was holding his jaw and mouth carefully for the effect. No, Ted’s cheekbones were set different, making them look softer. “Wait a minute...” He wasn’t used to the feeling of ideas coming to him yet. But when it was a topic he cared about, his mind was quick to put the pieces together. They all clicked when he saw that Ted’s skin had a light, sparkly sheen to it. Just like at the concert. “You changed your body for this!” “Hmm, maybe~!” Teddie rose from his curtsy with a coy hand over his mouth. In that position, Kanji could see that his fingers were different, too, with the pointer being longer than the ring. “A girl never tells her secrets.” “And the votes are in!” The three of them jumped back into place, and Yu subtly flicked his necklace back on. “This tally was as hot as our competitors, with every one of these girls scooping up fans hand-over-fist.” The announcer was holding a sheet of paper, the key to deciding who the best girl was. Teddie and Kanji watched him with equal tension and anticipation, though Yuri spared only a sideways glimpse. “While all of our stars shined bright, sadly, one of them found out that old tricks could only go so far.” It was with a faux-heavy heart that he turned to Yosuke. No one had been paying much attention to him since he finished his question, but in that short frame of time, Yosuke had started to wither. His shoulders slumped. His hands tunneled haphazardly into his sweater vest to make pockets. He stared at the thin line separating the stage from the stands, paying little mind to either side. “You could have taken center stage any other year, but we just had too many knockouts playing by their own rules. Good work, Yosuke-chan, we were happy to have you.” “Yeah. Real shame.” His words barely reached the mic. What few people could hear him were disturbed by the hollowed husk of a voice. The announcer was quick to move on. “As for you three, the order came down to a handful of votes. Our third place winner was...” Somewhere offstage, a drummer ramped up to the big reveal. The sharp snap of a snare drum signaled the drop. “The beautiful brute, Kanji-chan!” Kanji visibly mulled over the announcement, but he settled on a quirked grin. “Third place behind a couple of cheaters. Not bad.” “The taker of second place...” He pulled away from the mic, giving his side thought a quieter delivery. “...And earner of my personal thanks...” The drums revved up again, this time capping with a cymbal snap. “...The no-nonsense noble, Yuri-sama!” If she was at all upset by being stuck with silver, she only expressed it in a twitch of her nose. “It’s a wonder anyone in this mire could appreciate a woman like me.” “Ah!” The simple math swept through Teddie’s mind, seeing everyone to her right whittled off of the running. She was bouncing in her shoes, the folds of her dress fluttering like butterfly wings. “Does that mean…!?” “Indeed it does!” The announcer slid to her side and made a sweeping gesture over the pumped-up princess. “The winner of this year’s ‘Miss’ Yasogami Pageant is none other than the Queen of the TV World, Teddie-chan!” A deafening gong echoed from backstage, but all it did to Teddie was send her hair swaying in its ring. “Yay! Yay! Teddie is the prettiest girl!” “Congratulations to our special guest. You asked for our hearts, and you got them! And! You have earned a position alongside our judges during this afternoon’s beauty pageant.” “I… Suppose that means it’s time.” Naoto’s heart quivered in terror. She’d been given a day to ready herself, but she was no more prepared than the moment the news broke to her. The shaking in her voice came across clearly to Rise, who set a hand calmly over hers. “I’ll help you get ready for it, if you want?” “I could use all the help I can get.” “That concludes this pageant. Give it up for our brave contestants who made this all possible!” The announcer’s call brought out a blend of cheer and mirth from the crowd, and while most of the contestants were happy to accept, whether they admitted it outwardly or not, Yosuke took that as his chance to leave. “Finally.” He wasn’t even off stage before he tore out the scrunchy holding up his hair. Ted felt goosebumps prickling his neck, and he bowed to the cheering public before giving chase. “Wait for me!” “Uh, Senpai. That looked a lot worse than just getting embarrassed, didn’t it?” Yu watched his partner storm off into the unlit backstage, but somehow, the creases on his face looked bleaker. He didn’t like the hollow gloom haunting those eyes. They reminded him too much of when he looked in the mirror.

Lexa: And you accused me of cheating!          I would never have accepted if I knew you weren’t going to play fair   Her eyes roll at the message, she had been waiting for something along those lines to come since yesterday. Clarke’s actually surprised it took Lexa that long to break.   Clarke : I’m not cheating, i’m playing the game!   She continues getting her stuff together as she waits for a response. As much as she knows she needed to stay home the past two days, Clarke doesn’t want to get too far behind. The more work that piles up, the more overwhelmed and less motivated she gets. So, she decided to go in after lunch to collect her work and attend the remaining classes.   Lexa : half of your words aren’t real! Chimnal? Planch? Rowth? Tav?   Clarke : they were accepted weren’t they??   Lexa : only because this game has ludicrous principle   Clarke : don’t be salty just because you lost   Lexa : I wouldn’t have lost if you played fairly   She’s never seen it before and honestly it’s probably not happening, but Clarke can imagine a pout on Lexa’s face and she lives to see that in reality one day. Lexa’s lips just seem like they would form the perfect pout.   Clarke : all of my words are valid in the game… all is fair in words with friends   Lexa : No, I don’t accept that.   Clarke : and yet you keep playing… :D   Lexa : I can stop   Clarke : NO!             I’ll play real words   Lexa : as happy as I am that you admit that, the game accepts it. I’ll just have to stop going easy on you. Your fake words won’t stand a chance.   Clarke smiles at that, Lexa has definitely become more playful, at least competitively, with her lately and she hopes the brunette continues to feel more comfortable around her.   Clarke : Oh I’d like to see you try!            On another completely unrelated note, are you free after school?   Lexa : today?   She rolls her eyes, when else.   Clarke : yes today   Lexa : yes         Why?   Clarke : I’m coming in for a half day because I don’t want to miss anymore and was hoping we could go over my midterm review again           I’m not contagious           My moms a doctor, she would know   She probably didn’t need to add that, but doesn’t want Lexa to be grossed out or worried about catching anything. Clarke looks at the time and quickly fills her water bottle, slides it into her bag along with a pack of tissues and a few cough drops and then puts her coat on.   Lexa : We can do that, 3 at the library?   Clarke : Actually...do you think maybe we could study at my house? It’s just more comfortable             Unless you’re not comfortable with that, then the library’s fine   Lexa : That’s fine          Going to your house that is   Clarke : Awesome, thank you! I just have to tell the qb team I won’t be there and then I can drive us   Lexa : okay, I’ll wait by the east entrance   Clarke : see you then!   ------   Clarke may have thought her energy was back, but there’s a big difference between walking from the couch to her room or the bathroom and walking around a school, that seems to have expanded in her absence, with a heavy backpack. By the time she’s talked to all of her teachers and sat through the remaining three classes, she’s seriously questioning her decision making abilities and everything is starting to look like a bed.   Only one thing stands between her and her cozy blanket, the staircase leading up to the class room where quizbowl meets. Okay so maybe it’s two things since once she makes it up, she’ll still have to go talk to them before she can go. Technically it could be considered three things since after that she still has studying with Lexa, but Clarke is pretty sure Lexa won’t mind if she makes herself comfortable or at least Clarke isn’t going to let it stop her.   With her remaining energy store, Clarke climbs the steps, only becoming slightly winded at the top, and walks toward room 203. Certainly not expecting the greeting she receives when she enters.   “What are you doing here?” There has to be some sort of candid camera on her, because this can’t be happening. Clarke doesn’t spare Raven a glance, instead walking toward Patrick, the team leader.   He speaks up when the question hangs over them. “She’s part of the team now.”   “Youve got to be kidding me. You let her join?”   “She’s proved to be a great asset so far.” He says, unclear as to why there’s an issue.   “Whatever just don’t put us in one on ones together.” Raven huffs, taking her seat at the table.   “Don’t worry you’ll have time to get over yourself,” She says flatly to Raven before turning to the rest of the group “I’m only here to let you know I can’t stay today, I have a lot of make up work to do and I’m still not 100%. I’ll be here next week though.”   “Monty told us you were sick as well, we figured you wouldn’t be here either” Patrick shrugs “you can take a copy of today’s quiz cards if you want.” He moves to the table to pick up a packet of paper and brings it over to her.   “Thanks, I’ll look it over.” She says awkwardly, the tension in the room more than obvious.   “Sure thing, feel better.”   “Thanks.” She offers him an apologetic smile and quickly makes her leave.   Any remaining tension she had dissipated as soon as she saw Lexa sitting on the bench by the doors with a book held up in front of her face. She shakes her head slightly to fight off a smile.   “Lexa,” she greets catching the girls attention.   “Clarke, hi,” Lexa stands, tucking her book away. “Are you feeling better?”   “Not as good as this morning, but definitely overall. Ready to go?” She asks.   “Yes, though if you’re not up to it anymore that’s fine.” Lexa says as they start walking through the parking lot.   “I wish it was that easy, but I kind of told Mr Jones I could take the midterm on Friday.”   “He didn’t offer for you to take it Monday?” Lexa says in surprise.   “Oh, no, he did.”   “Then why…?”   “Because I like to torture myself,” she laughs “No, because I knew I would think that would give me more time to study, but then I wouldn’t actually end up using it and I would know less than I do now.” She explains and unlocks her car as they approach.   “I guess you know what works best for you.” Lexa says as they fit her bike in the back.   ****   She’s been in Clarke’s car before, somehow multiple times, and yet it feels different. More awkward. Though apparently it’s just her feeling that because Clarke doesn’t seem fazed as she hums along to the radio, tapping the wheel, while waiting for the light to change.   “Anything interesting happening in your classes?” Clarke asks and Lexa, well she doesn’t panic because that’s not something she does, but she does cycle through everything she’s been doing in the past couple of weeks to figure out what to say. She finds a lot of it interesting, but that doesn’t mean that other people do, that Clarke will.   “Well, in AP environmental we started working on our final project and part of mine covers ergot, which they now believe is what caused the hysteria that lead to the Salem witch trials.” She says confident in her choice because who doesn’t like talking about that bizarre point in history?   “I’m sorry what? What the heck is ergot?”   “It’s a fungal disease that contaminates grains.” She says and starts to second guess her topic, because who really wants to talk about fungi?   “And that caused people to think their neighbors were practicing witch craft?” Clarke spares her a quick glance as if to check if she were joking.   “Yes, it’s a hallucinogenic, so basically people were high and accusing each other of spell casting.”   “You’re kidding.”   “Well, a lot of it is speculation, but the descriptions match what is now know to be side effects of eating ergot contaminated grain products.”   “That’s insane.” Clarke says after a few moments. “That’s insane.” she says again and Lexa gives herself a mental pat on the back. “So how does that relate to your project?”   “Oh, well, my main focus is on conditions ideal for the spread of dormant or not as prominent parasitic fungi and disease especially related to future outputs from changing climate.” Lexa says trying to underplay her enthusiasm over her choice of study.   “Well, we’re all doomed if that comes back. Though maybe it’ll mellow everyone out this time.” Clarke jokes, pulling the car into the driveway. “That’s an interesting study, but I feel like it could be really depressing.”   “Perhaps, but it will also tell me what regions to avoid.” She says, stepping out of the car and following Clarke inside.   “Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Clarke asks   “I’m fine, thank you.” “Okay, should we get started then?”   “Whenever you’re ready.”  Lexa nods.   “Alright, let’s go up to my room.” Clarke says and turns down the hall. It takes Lexa a moment to follow her though, she had been expecting to work at the table again, not Clarke's bedroom. It makes sense, Clarke didn’t want to work at the library because of comfort and that would have been a table, so of course she wouldn’t want to work at just a different table at home.   She shakes her head and makes her way towards Clarke’s room. A thought crosses her mind briefly, that if Clarke actually did draw her, the drawings would likely be kept in her room and if they were, maybe they would be somewhere that Lexa could just stumble across. Accidentally knock something off the desk, place her folders on top and pick them up all together, offer to put Clarke’s things away- okay she’s getting away from herself and that was definitely more than a brief thought.   Clarke is already sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall, wrapped in a blanket when Lexa walks in. Way more than brief thoughts.   “Are you sure you’re up for studying?” She checks again.   “Yeah, just wanted to get cozy, hope that’s okay.”   It’s more than okay, at the moment only Clarke's face is visible and her cheeks are still slightly flushed from her fever. If Lexa was one for sappy thoughts she’d swear the redness makes Clarke's eyes bluer and more captivating, but she’s not and she’s good at ignoring the little flutter she feels at the other girls cute nature.   “Whatever you need.” She says instead.   Lexa’s surprised by how focused Clarke stays throughout the entire time they review. Usually she has a timer going in her head for the next groan or insistence in taking a break or the ‘I’m never going to be able to remember everything’. Not one of those happen, just a few sniffles or coughs here and there which should absolutely not be considered adorable and yet, Lexa finds herself endeared by them. By the time they call it quits, Clarke's eyes are looking slightly more droopy than before and her body is a bit more hunched in her blanket.   “Have a game of scrabble in you?” Clarke asks.   “I don’t think you do. It looks like you’re slowly melting into your bed.”   “Yea, feels like it too. I’ve probably kept you too long any way, you must have other things to do.”   Lexa shakes her head “Not really, I do my home work in free period and everything else isn’t due for a couple weeks.” She slowly packs up her things, not wanting to leave yet and Clarke did make it seem like she didn’t want that either, but she doesn’t want to impose.   “Do you maybe want to stay a bit then? Watch a show or something.”   “Yeah that would be nice.”   And that’s how she finds herself no more than ten minutes later trying not to move as Clarke’s head rests on her shoulder after she fell asleep to Person of Interest. She definitely is not enjoying this and she definitely didn’t act like a creep and smell Clarke's hair, it just happened to be under her nose when she shifted her head slightly. The sketch book will have to wait for another time, but Lexa supposes she can settle for this instead.  

Despite the number of times Denki and All Might had met, he still couldn’t believe that this was his life. When starting at Yuuei, his grandmother had asked him what he wanted to have accomplished by the time he graduated. His answers had been pretty straightforward and expected at the time. Make some friends in his class that would last beyond high school (goal accomplished already). Prepare to be the best pro hero that he could be. Pass all of his classes. Simple. Achievable. All Might had thrown everything in his life off course with a single conversation, and while Denki couldn’t say that he wasn’t glad that the Symbol of Peace seemed to think so highly of him, the thought of what it all meant still left him reeling whenever he remembered it. All Might wanted to help him. All Might, the number one hero, looked at Kaminari Denki and saw potential. A successor to his legacy. It was huge in a way that Denki couldn’t even begin to comprehend, because it no matter how he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. Denki knew he had potential. He had worked hard to get into Yuuei, and he wasn’t going to downplay that. But this? This was something else entirely. This was All Might, of all people. Did Denki really deserve this? Weren’t there other people who would be better suited for what All Might needed? People who had their own quirks under control, who were more skilled, more naturally talented than he could ever hope to be? His mind flashed for a second to the other members of his class, but he shoved it aside. It was no use thinking about which of them would be a better choice. He could hear what Izuku and Mei would say to that particular line of thought. Potential is a tricky thing though. He heard the word enough when he was growing up. Little Kaminari had the potential to be a great hero with a quirk like his! Strong and flashy, just the type of ability that stands out amongst the hundreds of pro heroes. If only he knew how to use it. If only he didn’t stand in his own way with his lack of control. If only he didn’t become the butt of the joke every time he pushed himself too far. Sure, things had gotten better. Being at Yuuei had helped him to gain more control over his quirk, and Izuku and Aizawa both seemed to think that it would only improve with time. But did he deserve this opportunity? A quiet voice asked another equally important question: Did he want this responsibility? The power, the legacy, the pressure that came with it? His grandmother had wanted him to be sure before he accepted. Denki knew that if he told All Might he had changed his mind that the man wouldn’t make him feel guilty for it. No matter his doubts though, Denki knew that he wanted to be worthy of the trust that was being placed in him. He wanted to be worthy of being chosen by All Might, and that was why he was at the school on his day off of classes, standing awkwardly in the middle of the gym All Might had reserved for them. “Kaminari, my boy,” All Might said, interrupting Denki’s train of thought. “Thank you for meeting with me on your day off.” “Of course!” Denki replied brightly. How was he supposed to say no to a request from All Might, after all? If All Might wanted to meet with him every day, Denki wasn’t about to say no. “There is much that we still need to discuss concerning One for All,” All Might said, settling back into the chair that he had set up in the front of the gym, “but first, have you spoken to young Midoriya yet?” Denki nodded, legs folding under him as he sat on the floor in front of the hero. “I spoke to him about it this week. Thank you for letting me tell him. I know this is all supposed to be secret, even if he does already know about most of it.” He can’t imagine what it must have been like for Izuku to keep this secret to himself for months. Not to mention the strength that it must have taken for Izuku to turn down All Might’s offer. They’ve talked about Izuku’s training enough for Denki to know that before meeting Aizawa in person, his friend had idolized All Might. To have his former idol offer him his legacy and for Izuku to turn it down…Denki had never been more proud of someone, even if they hadn’t met yet when it happened. His grandmother had certainly decided who her knew favorite was when she heard the full story of Izuku’s encounter with All Might. “I take it your concern was unfounded then?” All Might said with a smile. “He was so excited!” Denki blurted out. That was another thing about the entire situation that just didn’t feel real to him. He didn’t think that Izuku would be mad exactly. He had turned down All Might’s quirk for a reason. An amazing reason. But there was a difference between not wanting it himself and seeing it be offered to someone who was, hopefully, his best friend. Denki had told Izuku that they were friends before the USJ attack, and he had meant it. Izuku and Mei were already the best friends he had ever had. Instead of laughing at him as he struggled, they had both tried to help him. They were so good, and Denki didn’t want to do anything that could shake their friendship so early on. Stupid, he knew, but his anxiety and the words of his old classmates kept rearing their ugly heads. All that worrying had been for nothing though. Izuku had truly been ecstatic for him, immediately going on about how One for All might affect his quirk, and how he was glad that All Might had found a worthy successor. Izuku hadn’t even hesitated to say that he thought Denki was worthy, and the warmth that spread through him at Izuku’s approval had quieted his own doubts for a long time afterwards. Mei had been less interested in the details of the quirk than she was in designing devices to help All Might’s injury, and that had been its own kind of comfort as well. Still smiling at him, All Might said. “Yes. I thought he would be. That’s a good friend you have there. Now, on to a more serious note. There are a few more things that you should know about both One for All and its history before we move forward with your training.” It was strange how quickly that trademark smile slipped from All Might’s features, but as he continued to speak Denki understood why. On that day, he heard the story of All for One. On that day, the tides of fate began to change. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be doing this?” Izuku stood with his arms crossed in the middle of the warehouse. He hadn’t been to this particular spot since a few months after he first started training with Aizawa, but he needed somewhere familiar and safe that wasn’t the school campus for his training. Aizawa gave him a flat look through the screen, bandages still wrapped tightly around his head. “I haven’t left my apartment. Hizashi will be here in half an hour. I think I can observe your training in the comfort of my home without sending myself back to the hospital.” A cat, Leo from what Izuku could see, crossed in front of the screen blocking Aizawa from view for a second. It gave him just enough time to clear his own expression, mimicking Aizawa’s tone as he said, “Too soon.” “Izuku. I promise I’m okay. The hospital cleared me for light movement. This is no movement.” “But your eyes-” “The screen isn’t going to do anything. I made sure to ask. I’ll just get you started, and then I’ll turn off the video part of the call. Will that make you feel better?” Aizawa’s tone was gentle, but it still made Izuku feel guilty. “I’m sorry.” Izuku fidgets where he’s standing for a second before making a conscious effort to stop. He’s not sorry, actually. He’s still worried for Aizawa, and he doesn’t want to see his mentor pushing himself for Izuku’s sake. Not when he technically doesn’t need his help today. “No. You’re not,” Aizawa replies, but there’s a smile to his voice now. Izuku can’t help smiling back. “You caught me.” If Izuku could have seen it, Aizawa probably would have been rolling his eyes. Instead, he adjusted another cat out of the way of the camera before sitting up straight. “You needed my help with something?” “I can do it on my own,” Izuku responded. Even with the video set up, Aizawa still probably couldn’t see him clearly through his bandages, but that didn’t stop Izuku from shifting uneasily on his feet at the question. “I’m just going through some stances. Getting back into the feel of things.” Aizawa hummed thoughtfully. “Really. I don’t want you to push yourself. I’m at the warehouse, so it’s safe. I’m not planning on staying long. It’s just that we don’t have long until the Sports Festival, and I don’t want to fall behind.” The words sound rushed and exactly like the excuse they are. He should have expected Aizawa to see through them in an instant. He knows him far too well. “It’s your rods, isn’t it?” Izuku’s hands hovered over where they connected to his belt, but he didn’t touch them. He didn’t say anything either. It wasn’t as though Aizawa needed the verbal confirmation anyway. In just a few words, he had already seen to the root of Izuku’s problem. He shouldn’t have bothered him with this, not when he was recovering, but Izuku didn’t think that he would have been able to put his feelings into words. Not even to Hizashi or All Might, both of whom he knows would have been willing to help him too, if only he had asked them. “I may not have seen the video of the attack yet,” Aizawa said softly, “but Hizashi filled me in on what happened. I wish that you have never been put in that situation to begin with, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to stop it.” “It wasn’t your fault!” Izuku protested. “It wasn’t,” Aizawa agreed. “It is still my responsibility to look after my students. To look after you especially, problem child. What you all went through… You shouldn’t be facing actual villains for a while yet. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. You’re having a completely normal reaction to what happened.” “I know,” Izuku said, and because he knew that Izuku would doubt that said again, “I know that this is a normal reaction. I read up on it and everything. It’s just…Every time I think about using them, I think about that moment. Explosions don’t bother me, not when I grew up with Kacchan, but I just keep thinking about how it could have been worse. If Kaminari had been injured again or…” He trails off unsure how to finish the thought. He just knows that every time he tries to pick up his weapons that moment flashes back, and he can’t do it. It’s a stupid mental block that he doesn’t have time for. “You have to be able to trust in your weapons, and in that moment it failed you,” Aizawa said, his voice still gentle. “That’s no one’s fault. If anything, I should have been more stringent with the safety features of your gear. Hatsume’s mother has checked over your new gear herself. As for everything else…you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” “I have to be!” Izuku burst out, frustrated that he could already feel the tears coming on. It wouldn’t be the first time that Aizawa had seen him cry, but Izuku wished that his go to reaction to being frustrated wasn’t tears. “The Sports Festival is in two weeks! I should be pushing myself even harder, not struggling just to hold my weapons without having a panic attack! You know what people will be saying about me. They’re going to be looking for any reason that I shouldn’t be allowed to continue in the hero course, and I don’t want to hand them one on a silver platter. I’ve gotten good at this over the years! If I have to start from scratch with something else-” “Then we will figure it out together,” Aizawa interrupted, “but I don’t think that will be the case.” Izuku tried to get his breathing back under control. “I’ve worked so hard on this. I don’t want all of that to have been for nothing. If I panic every time I get injured by a villain, then how am I supposed to do my internship? Work studies? It’s so stupid.” “This was an extreme circumstance, Izuku, and you have to remember that you are still a student. You are still learning, and as I said before, this was something you should not have been exposed to for a long time. It will all be okay. I promise you. In the meantime, there are ways that I can help you help you through this. You aren’t the first person to go through this. Are you ready to work?” Wiping his eyes, Izuku smiled at Aizawa through the screen. “Yes, sir!” Shinsou Hitoshi had work to do, if he could ever get a moment of peace and quiet. If he was honest with himself, he could acknowledge that it wasn’t entirely his classmates fault that he was in this situation. His conversation with Present Mic had been a little louder than he had been anticipating, and by the time he realized his mistake too many people had heard the teacher’s booming voice giving him both permission and instructions to come by his office later for more information. Asking hadn’t been a test for himself, but somehow Shinsou still felt like he had failed. It wasn’t the greatest feeling to start off with. He pushed past it though. Shoved the feeling aside and ignored the whispers of his classmates that followed him through the halls now. The whispers themselves weren’t new, even if the content of the gossip was. He was used to it after all the years, and he refused to let it get to him now. Not when he had an actual chance of making his dreams come true. Coming to Yuuei had been an eye-opening experience for him. In more ways than he could have anticipated. He knew the entrance exam for the hero course was suited for more physical quirks, but he had tried it anyway. It had been hard for him to admit to himself after the fact that he hadn’t gone into it expected to do well. He hadn’t gone into the exam expecting to pass. He refused to stand in his own way a second time. That was the first thing he had realized upon starting school. He hadn’t done enough to prepare himself, and he was paying for that mistake by starting out in the Gen Ed course. Shinsou had felt discouraged by that, but he hadn’t given up. There was still a chance, he told himself. Then school started, and he learned two things very quickly that actually gave him hope. The first was that a student in the hero course had been expelled. That probably should have been intimidating more than anything. It showed just how high the standards for their students were, after all, and the consequences for not meeting those expectations. It also meant that there was an open spot ripe for the taking. Shinsou didn’t let himself hesitate this time. That open spot in class 1-A would be his. There was no other option. It was just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. The second thing to happen was that he learned about the existence of Midoriya Izuku. At first, Shinsou hadn’t believed the rumors. It seemed hard to believe given what he had experienced during the entrance exam, but after some investigating on his own, he learned that there was some truth to the rumors. Midoriya Izuku of class 1-A was both quirkless and a recommendation student. What he had done to get in on recommendations and who his sponsor was had been too conflicting to put any real trust in the information, but those two facts he had been able to confirm at least. Apparently, he excelled at hand to hand combat and had a host of support weapons, if the rumors were to be believed. Shinsou was impressed, but he also felt like an idiot. He had spent so much time thinking about how unfair the exam was, how much of a disadvantage he would be in. He thought the only way through to the hero course would be through the use of his quirk, but obviously that wouldn’t work when his opponents were giant robots. Hand to hand combat. How could he have missed that? If he had thought of it himself, trained earlier, could he have somehow passed the exam? Recommendations take connections. That route would never have worked for him, but if only he had thought things through a little better instead of getting hung up on what he couldn’t do… He had still been planning to rely on his quirk as much as possible during the Sports Festival but in light of everything he had learned that seemed like a mistake he couldn’t afford to make. So, he had asked Present Mic if Gen Ed students could have access to the additional gyms on campus that were usually only used by hero course students. And Present Mic had said yes. He hadn’t asked Shinsou what he wanted access for, and Shinsou hadn’t volunteered the information, but it shouldn’t have been hard for anyone to figure out. His classmates knew that he had failed the entrance exam. Could probably guess that he hadn’t given up. The whispers and looks followed him, but that was fine. Let them talk. Shinsou had work to do, and he didn’t intend to be there long enough for it to bother him anyway.

Life settled into a comfortable rhythm for the occupants of the castle over the following week, as it always did after the whirlwind first week of classes. The first years were gradually learning to navigate the twisting corridors and jump the trick stairs and stopped getting lost so much on their way to lessons, the older students were gradually learning to accept their doomed fates as O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students who had suddenly very little free time and quite a lot more stress, and that usual, somewhat surreal air of nervous excitement which surrounded returning to Hogwarts faded naturally into the feeling that they had never really left. A brutal wind had blown up around the castle, whipping steadily across the grounds and sneaking through the gaps under doors, rattling the windows in their frames and chilling the hallways. This, Harry brooded as he shifted positions uncomfortably, must certainly be why he was so bloody freezing all the time now, and he pulled his robes more tightly around himself. It was his Friday morning free period and he was sitting crouched in one of Hogwarts’ secret passageways, hidden behind a tapestry, head bent low over the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the miniaturised drawings of classrooms and corridors, eyes darting about rapidly, searching…he had just seen…there! Harry smacked his finger to the parchment triumphantly, tracing the little dot labeled ‘Draco Malfoy’ as it moved down one of the tiny staircases, flanked by two other dots marked ‘Gregory Goyle’ and ‘Theodore Nott’. Malfoy was heading to the ground floor…he, Harry, was only one floor above! He thought quickly…if he left the passageway and used the stairs to the right, he could overtake Malfoy easily in minutes. But if he followed the passage, it would take less time…though that would lead to more classrooms, and a higher chance of getting caught…Harry rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. He wasn’t out-of-bounds, but he would rather no one knew what he was up to, not yet…not until he had proof…. Harry’s elbow brushed a small lump of material balled up inside his pocket, just over his hip, and he nearly startled as it struck him: his Invisibility Cloak! It was so obvious he felt stupid for not realising it earlier. But then again, he supposed as he fished it out of his pocket, he wasn’t quite yet used to having it with him all the time, before now he’d always kept it in his trunk when he was at school. Well, that settled that, he decided – he’d take the shortcut. A thrill of anticipation and purpose raced through Harry as he made to stand. But then he hesitated, checking Malfoy’s progress: he and his lackeys were on the ground floor now, and they were heading toward the dungeons…Harry felt quite sure that if they were about to deface something or cause any trouble, it would be out in the open again for the whole school to see, not down in the dungeons…Harry sat still another minute and watched the three dots rove deeper into the bowels of the castle, and then pass through the entrance to the Slytherin common room, as he’d suspected they might. Harry slumped back against the wall, disappointed. This was the third time this week he had sat hidden away in a secluded section of the castle, alone, waiting for Malfoy to make a mistake…to perhaps wander off somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, or to linger too long anywhere that was not a classroom, or a bathroom…. And this was the third time he had been left with absolutely nothing to show for it. Harry knew Malfoy was up to something. He knew it had been Malfoy who’d written those foul things on the wall in the second-floor corridor, and if no one else was going to do anything about it, then Harry would. It had not been difficult, these past few days, to slip away unnoticed by Ron and Hermione whenever they started up into one of their usual rounds of bickering. They had been doing that quite a lot recently. Bickering, that was. Harry supposed that they had always done that – had always liked to needle each other to the point of exasperation, but he had noticed a definite uptick over the summer, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to why that might be. And he was not sure how to feel about it. About the possibility of Ron and Hermione…what? Abandoning him? Shutting him out forever, so they could be on their own? But Harry mentally kicked himself. Surely that would never happen. They had, both of them, stuck by Harry, even through some pretty tough times, and he was certain that wouldn’t change just because they might want to start dating each other. Harry let out a quick puff of air. His free period was already half over, and he still had to run back to the Tower to get his books before his next class. Resigned, Harry quickly rolled up the Marauder’s Map and tucked it back inside his robes. He climbed to his feet and stretched, pulling his arms briefly above his head. His back was aching and sore from sitting still for so long, and he took a moment to stretch that out too, his spine popping in several places. Cautiously, Harry poked his head out and looked up and down the corridor. Seeing no one, he stepped out from behind the tapestry. He had to switch up his strategy, Harry thought as he made his way toward the stairs, mulling over his Malfoy problem again…the Slytherins (collectively, for Harry was positive Malfoy'd had help) had last struck in the middle of the night, and Harry had so far only managed to post himself throughout the school at random times of the day, whenever a break in his timetable allowed it. It would make more sense to keep watch at night…it was not as though this would interfere with all the solid sleep he was getting, he considered ruefully...but then again, there was the risk of getting locked out of Gryffindor Tower if the Fat Lady decided to visit another portrait…. “Hi Harry!” a voice called brightly behind him. Harry’s hand jerked, ready to draw his wand, but as he turned and saw who it was, his arm fell back to his side. “Hi Luna,” said Harry, relieved in spite of himself. The sight of her, wearing her usual radish-shaped earrings, blonde hair as long and straggly as ever, was oddly comforting, and his heart stuttered back to normal. He realised with a twinge of unhappiness that he had not seen her properly since they had shared a compartment on the train. As she caught up to him, Harry dug his hands into his pockets and turned automatically so that they were walking together. “What are you doing down here? Haven’t you got class?” Harry asked her. “Oh yes,” Luna nodded serenely. “Charms. But Laura Hinkley accidentally overdid her Summoning Charm and smacked herself in the face with a globe. She broke her nose and knocked out two front teeth, so Professor Flitwick ended class early to take her to the hospital wing. I feel a bit badly for her – I would feel much worse, only she’s one of the girls who calls me ‘Loony’ sometimes,” she said matter-of-factly. Harry grinned at her, and he was surprised to find it came easily. He hadn’t grinned in what felt like ages. “I’m glad you got out early, then. It’s nice to see you,” he told her sincerely. Luna’s wide, silvery eyes lit up, and she absolutely beamed at him. “It’s very nice to see you, too, Harry.” They chatted companionably through a few more corridors, and as Luna told him all about her first week of school, Harry scratched absently at his wrists. His hands itched all the time now; the strange, intense urges to bathe himself had not abated over the last week and had continued to strike him randomly at thoroughly inconvenient times. He wasn’t, of course, able to sneak away half a dozen times a day just for a shower, so he had found himself slipping into the bathroom between classes and meals to quickly shove his hands under some hot water. It seemed to help suppress his odd new compulsion, but the skin on his wrists and the backs of his hands was now cracked and dry, and he had begun to develop tiny blisters. Harry wasn’t exactly sure what was driving this weird impulse. Perhaps it was his now seemingly permanent case of the chills – a hot shower seemed to be the only thing that could sufficiently warm him up these days. Or perhaps it was the fact that he now felt very like he had done after witnessing Nagini’s attack on Mr. Weasley the year before and subsequently hearing some of the members of the Order speculate that he might have been possessed without his knowing…Harry remembered, very clearly, how…separate…from everyone else he had felt on the train ride home from visiting Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo’s – contaminated, infected...dirty…. Harry found himself thinking, sometimes, though he tried very hard not to, about that night in the broom cupboard with Romilda. He had neither properly seen nor heard from her since the evening she had left him chocolates in his room, and Harry felt quite certain that the best thing he could do would be to just forget about what had happened between them. The only problem with this, however, was that she seemed to have transferred something to him that night. Left some parasite on his skin that had crawled up inside him and latched on, releasing a kind of vile toxin that made him itch all over, made him feel like he had a thin layer of living grime sitting just underneath the surface of his skin…Harry found that the feeling went away, for just a little while, after he’d scrubbed himself sufficiently, though he could never quite seem to fully eradicate it. Harry pulled his sleeves down over his hands and shoved them back into his pockets, forcefully shelving all thoughts of Romilda Vane and focusing instead on Luna’s animated description of a Blibbering Humdinger her father had claimed he’d seen a month before. “Anyway,” Luna said as they climbed another set of stairs together, “what were you doing down there, all by yourself?” Harry shrugged. “Enjoying the view,” he said as though it were obvious, gesturing grandly at the exceptionally uninteresting bare stretch of wall they were passing, and Luna broke out into giggles. She snorted slightly, which Harry might usually have found a bit grating, but coming from Luna he found it somehow endearing, and he felt his spirits lift considerably as he watched her, another smile tugging at his lips. When they reached the top of the stairs, Luna stopped and turned to Harry, tucking her wand more securely behind her left ear. “Well, I suppose I’d better be heading back. I’ve got Care of Magical Creatures next, and I’m afraid I’m already quite late,” she said, smiling widely. “See you, Harry!” “Bye, Luna,” said Harry, her words sinking in as she climbed back down the stairs. She hadn’t been heading this way at all, then, but had simply walked with Harry to keep him company, even though he had made her late for class. Harry watched her go, a fierce sort of affection rising in his chest, and hoped, as Luna disappeared around the corner, that Laura Hinkley’s broken nose was still smarting.     “Been stalking Malfoy again, have you?” Ron said offhandedly without looking up from his Charms text as Harry plopped into the chair next to him and put his feet up on the table. Harry laced his fingers over his stomach and did his best to look highly affronted. “Who says I’ve been stalking him?” Ron glanced up at him, giving him a look that said quite plainly he wasn’t fooled, and Harry gave in. “Yeah, alright,” he shrugged easily, and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He heard Ron snort and turn a page. “Don’t know why you’re wasting your time….” Harry lifted his head again to look at Ron incredulously. “What, you don’t think it was him who wrote that rubbish in that corridor? You said you did!” “‘Course it was,” Ron agreed, squinting at a footnote. “It’s just…I mean, how d’you think you’re going to catch him at it? Better to just wait and see if he does it again, and then you can see what his game is, where he’ll make his next move….” Ron trailed off, tapping his quill against the table as he looked something up in his text’s index. Harry stared at him. It was no wonder Ron Weasley won every game of chess he ever played, he thought wryly. But it was, in Harry’s opinion, a moot point. He had admittedly already considered this strategy and discarded it – after all, what if Malfoy ended up hurting someone next time? But when Harry voiced this concern to Ron, he merely laughed. “Malfoy? Come on, Harry, he’s a filthy rotten creep, yeah, but he’s a cowardly filthy rotten creep,” Ron pointed out, closing his book and leaning back against the wall, mirroring Harry’s position. “Since when has he ever done anything more than stand there insulting people, and threaten everyone with his father?” “But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Harry pressed. “His father’s in prison, isn’t he, and now Draco thinks it’s his job to prove the Malfoys aren’t all worthless, they’re still useful…hey!” A sudden idea had just struck him. “D’you reckon he’s working for Voldemort already?” Ron cringed at the name but did not attempt to challenge Harry’s use of it. “Are you serious? What would You-Know-Who want with a slimy, spineless little git who’s not even fully qualified yet?” Ron shook his head. “Not a chance.” “Well, I still reckon he ought to be expelled either way,” Harry said grimly. “I mean, you do realise it was people like Hermione he said should pop their clogs, don’t you? I thought you’d be more upset about this….” “I am!” Ron said indignantly, sitting up a little straighter and frowning down at Harry. “I just think you’re getting a bit obsessed, that’s all….” “Who’s getting obsessed with what?” asked Hermione, who had just appeared next to them. She set down a rather large stack of books and pushed Harry’s feet off the table, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “boys” and “respecting the furniture.” “Harry’s getting obsessed with Malfoy,” Ron informed her as she sat down across from them. “Oh, that,” she agreed conversationally. “Yes, I do think you’re putting a bit too much energy into it, frankly, Harry…until you’ve got proof – ” “Ron thinks I’m right that he’s up to something, don’t you?” Harry demanded, but Ron simply held up his hands as if to say ‘sorry, nothing I can do’ and Harry glared at him. Hermione ignored both of them. “Until you’ve got real proof, there’s really no point in wandering about the school, wasting time when you should be studying….” “And how am I supposed to get proof without going looking for it, wait for it to fall into my lap?” Harry challenged. But Hermione seemed to have lost interest in discussing the matter, giving him a stern look but declining to answer. Harry looked away in defeat, vowing to bring it up again next chance he got. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione looking him up and down, as though inspecting him for any visible signs of an ailment. Harry rolled his eyes. Between Harry’s frequent trips to the bathroom and his continued lack of appetite, Ron and Hermione had started to express the concern that Harry might have come down with some sort of stomach illness. Every time Harry had looked at food for the past week, he’d felt a rolling sense of nausea, and after several days of consuming only water, tea, and modest portions of whatever soup the kitchens had produced that day, Hermione had become increasingly insistent that he should try to eat a bit more. It was just no use telling her he wasn’t hungry, and that probably he wouldn’t be able to keep any of it down anyway; her incessant harassment was starting to wear on him, and he had begun to find a certain bitter pleasure in refusing her demands…. Just then the bell rang, much to Harry’s relief, and the three of the them headed off to Charms, where he knew Hermione would have blessedly little time to focus on his well-being, physical or otherwise.     The next day dawned grey and calm. Overcast, but no sign of rain yet, and the brutal wind had died down to almost nothing. Perfect Quidditch conditions, and Harry could not have been more pleased – it was Gryffindor tryouts today, his first official duty as Captain of the team, and he wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible. The thought of the good weather sustained Harry all the way down to breakfast, and he even managed to get down three sausages and a pile of eggs before Hermione announced over the morning paper that Stan Shunpike had been arrested. “What?” he and Ron both said at once. Hermione read the rest of the article aloud, and it seemed clear to the three of them that the Ministry had now reached a point of desperation, and had resorted to merely constructing the appearance of doing something about the growing threats to the community they were supposed to be protecting, even if it meant jailing innocent people. Harry sat there silently as Hermione and Ron continued to discuss the subject, fingernails scraping absently against the back of his wrist, and glanced up at the staff table. For a while he watched Dumbledore, who was deep in conversation with Professor Flitwick, and wondered when their next lesson together would be. Harry certainly wasn’t managing to do much on his own to improve his chances of helping to win the war: with his growing inability to concentrate properly in lessons and an ongoing struggle to get a full night’s sleep, Harry’s classes had become an even bigger challenge than before. The printed words of his textbooks blurred together and sometimes did not even seem like they were written in proper English, and he would find himself reading the same sentence a dozen times as his mind wandered off completely. His teachers’ voices oftentimes faded to a dull buzz that he had trouble deciphering and he would feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, until he was inevitably nudged awake by Ron’s elbow, or startled by the bell. And the worst part was he could feel himself beginning not to care. He wanted to care, he knew how important his education was (what use was he to anyone else as an underqualified wizard) but he sensed his motivation for schoolwork slipping through his fingers and he did not know how to stop it. What was the point in trying, after all, if he couldn’t keep any of it inside his brain…. Harry knew his marks were already starting to suffer for it. He’d caught McGonagall frowning at him more than once, and Flitwick had handed Harry’s last essay back to him with a rather baffled look of dismay. Slughorn, with a rather melodramatic expression of pure agony on his round, walrus-y face, had expressed his profound consternation that the evidence of the talent Harry had obviously inherited from his mother had disappeared so entirely and had offered to tutor Harry privately. But the thought of being alone for hours on end with Professor Slughorn, who often looked at Harry as if he were a delicious prize to be won and whom Harry did yet know very well, was deeply unsettling to him for reasons he did not know how to name, and Harry had flat-out refused this proposition as politely as he possibly could. The breakfast Harry had managed to get down churned unpleasantly in his stomach, and he shoved his plate away, blaming it somewhat truthfully on the nerves of the upcoming tryouts when Hermione asked him if that was all he was going to eat.     The weather held as Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way down to the Quidditch stadium fifteen minutes later. Ginny caught up to them about halfway down, her broom over her shoulder, and was joined shortly thereafter by Dean, which Harry would not have minded, as he liked Dean quite a lot, except that he casually slipped his hand into Ginny’s, and this seemed to coincide with a slight dip in Harry’s mood (although he saw Ron glance pointedly at their clasped hands and felt a bit better). A rather large crowd had already gathered by the time they reached the pitch, and Hermione departed to find a seat in the stands, wishing them all a hasty good luck. Ron, Ginny, and Dean wandered off to join the rest of the hopefuls, leaving Harry alone to survey the massive group of applicants. Harry couldn’t believe how many people had shown up…he tried to perform a quick headcount but it was impossible to tell for sure, as everyone kept moving around. Definitely more than had ever turned up to trials over Harry’s previous years on the team. He felt his nerves flutter again…. Harry glanced up at the grey sky, thinking he had better get things started up before it decided to rain, and felt a faint tug on his sleeve. He looked back and abruptly found himself face to face with Romilda Vane – a sharp bolt of lightning seemed to lance through Harry in the millisecond it took for him to recognise her face, and he stepped back hastily without thinking. “Harry,” she said, smirking, and Harry was oddly surprised to find that her voice sounded perfectly normal. Like it could have belonged to any other girl. “Hello, Romilda,” said Harry evenly. He forced himself to stand his ground, even though what he really wanted to do was turn around and march across the field until he was as far away from her as possible. The vague beginnings of a headache throbbed to life at the back of his skull, but the panic that he had felt every time he had thought of her over the past week did not come. In fact, he suddenly felt terribly, mercifully blank. “Er – what are you doing here?” “Trying out!” she beamed, gesturing at the crowd behind her, and winked conspiratorially. “Figured I had an in with the Captain….” Harry gave her a tight smile and thought privately that Snape had a better chance of winning a tap-dancing competition than Romilda did of getting on this Quidditch team. “Right. Well, if you’ll just wait over there….” He tried to direct her back over to the others. “And anyway,” she continued as if Harry had not spoken, “I haven’t heard from you, did you like your present?” She gave him a knowing smile. A box, a little box on his bed, and a note that smelled of roses- She had- “Please….” been in his room- Don’t. His fresh headache gave a nasty throb. “I don’t like chocolate,” Harry said stiffly. “Oh! Well, if you – ” “And like I said, you can wait over there with everyone else,” he told her, pointing. Romilda’s expression faltered for a moment at his tone, but she recovered quickly. “Sure, if you like….” She moved as if to touch Harry’s arm, but he jerked it abruptly out of her reach, and her hand fell back to her side. The barest trace of annoyance flashed across her face, and then she smirked at him again and walked away to rejoin the group. Harry watched her go, and wished it were just a bit sunnier; the cool breeze seemed to have taken on a harder edge…. Harry wiped his palms on his trousers, squared his shoulders, and lifted the whistle hanging round his neck to his lips, giving it a sharp blast. The talk died down immediately as everyone turned to face him. “Alright, you lot,” he announced firmly, “we’re going to start with the basics, I want you to split up into groups of ten….” “So assertive,” someone whispered, and several girls broke out into hysterical giggles. Harry pointedly ignored them and began relaying instructions to the first group of ten to fly once around the pitch so he could get a sense of their abilities. Romilda Vane was in the second group. When Harry blew his whistle, not a single one of them kicked off from the ground, but merely dissolved into another fit of giggles, and Harry felt irritation flare in his empty chest. “Leave now, please!” he barked at them, before turning to the rest. “And if there’s anyone else here who’s not going to take it seriously then you can get off this field….” Romilda and her friends ran off the pitch, still laughing, and Harry noted with annoyance that they did not head back up to the castle but rather went to sit in the stands to watch everyone else. Harry grimaced, scratching his hand, the pressure in the back of his head increasing, and turned to direct the third group…. The rest of the trials took several hours and were somewhat of a blur. Harry could feel sweat running down his back despite the cool weather; he focused all his concentration on the players before him and did not look into the stands, though he imagined, in the back of his mind, that Romilda’s eyes were following him…he thought Hermione might have tried to wave at him once, when he’d finished the flying tests and the Chaser candidates had stepped forward, to give him the thumbs up, but he steadfastly refused to look in her direction…he was vaguely sure she was sitting in the row just above Romilda…the pulsing heaviness in Harry’s head seemed to be growing, twisting…. Harry watched, trying to absorb every detail, as each Chaser attempted to score as many goals as possible; Katie Bell was still as good as ever, and it was no tough decision to welcome her back on the team; Demelza Robins, whom Harry had only seen in passing before now, was a nice surprise, and had a particular talent for avoiding Bludgers; Ginny Weasley scored more goals than anyone before her, and managed to look damn good while doing it (although Harry didn’t suppose this was relevant to her Chasing abilities, and it did not, of course, have any bearing on her acceptance to the team). By the time Harry had chosen two new Beaters, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote, he had shouted down several arguments and complaints from those who had failed to make the cut – normally he would have found this infuriating, but as it was Harry couldn’t seem to muster any real sense of exasperation. As Jimmy and Ritchie went to join the other spectators, Harry glanced toward the stands. Romilda was still there. Harry’s head pulsed again, and he wiped a bead of sweat off his temple, turning to watch Ron, who had flown up to the goal posts to start his trial for Keeper. Ron looked like he might be sick, and Harry felt his stomach dip in sympathy, but Ron managed to save all five penalties without much trouble, something no other Keeper applicant had managed to do, and Harry felt a relieved delight try to stir in his heart as Ron landed to the cheers of the crowd. With the excitement over, the onlookers began to file quickly out of the stadium, and Harry waited until Cormac McLaggen (who had done second best as Keeper but who also seemed to possess both a nasty temper and the idea that Harry had not given him a fair shot) had stomped off to the castle, aiming a kick at one of the benches as he went, before making his way over to Ron and thumping him on the back. “Well done!” said Harry fervently, slightly hoarse from all the shouting he’d had to do. “Really great, Ron, that last save – ” “Thanks,” said Ron, grinning ear to ear. “Almost thought I’d missed it, did you see – ” “Congratulations, Ron!” Hermione was running toward them, and when she reached them, she leaned up quickly, kissing Ron on the cheek. A second later, she seemed to realise what she had done and stepped back quickly, blushing and looking everywhere but at Ron’s face. Ron’s ears turned red as he stared, dumbstruck, at Hermione, then touched his cheek lightly where she had kissed him, beaming. Ginny, who had just walked up with the rest of the new team, caught Harry’s eye and they both looked away quickly, trying not to laugh. After consulting everyone’s timetables, the first full practice was fixed up for the following week. “You were all brilliant,” Harry congratulated them, and for a second he felt a true glow of pride as he looked around at them all. Katie smiled at him fondly. “You too, Mr. Captain, nice job.” The last stragglers were leaving the Quidditch pitch, and as Harry shook Ritchie Coote’s hand, he glanced away, inadvertently catching Romilda Vane’s eye. She gave him a little wave then turned back to her friends, their tinkling laughter fading as the little group strolled away. Ron’s enthusiastic re-telling of his third save faded to a buzz in Harry’s ears as he stared after them. He dropped Ritchie’s hand, his skin crawling…his head throbbed like a heartbeat…his arms were beginning to itch again…. “Gonna go put these up, be right back….” Harry said mechanically, and kicked shut the lid of the crate containing the Quidditch balls, scooped it up, and headed toward the equipment shed. He quickly stowed the crate and glanced back at his friends. No one was watching, and he felt safe slipping away to the changing rooms. Harry stopped just inside the door, pulling it closed and looking around. His eyes drank in the long benches, the pads and gloves hanging on the walls, the section leading off to the showers. He loved this room. He still remembered the first time he had sat in it before an actual Quidditch game, how nervous he had been…he saw himself quite clearly as he imagined it, his tiny little eleven-year-old self in those scarlet robes, trembling and anxious and so very, very excited…. Harry locked the door and went around to the showers. He wanted to rinse off, he felt sweaty and gross, but as soon as he turned on the tap, he remembered that Ron and Hermione would be waiting for him…they had planned to go down to Hagrid’s after tryouts…Harry reluctantly switched off the tap. He wandered over to the lockers, running his hand along the metal doors until coming to the one that had first been his, five years ago…it wasn’t his anymore…George had switched his and Harry’s as a joke in third year and they had never bothered to swap back…Harry turned around and leaned against it, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. His wrists tingled more intensely and he scratched them one at a time, digging his nails in, prying out the itch. He felt…odd. Like how he imagined it might feel to stand at the edge of a cliff and look down, and feel no awe, or anticipation, or fear. He was satisfied with his performance as Captain today, and truly happy for Ginny and for Ron for making the team, but it was like all that was buried underneath a massive, solid layer of…nothing. The headache that had been developing all morning, since the moment he’d seen Romilda, gave a particularly intense throb…something was pulsing at the back of his mind like a tumor, begging to be examined – “…did you like your present?” – and Harry did not want to touch it, but it was like being in the room with a dead body, and you didn’t want to look at it, but it was so awful it drew your eyes against your will…. There was a knock at the door. “Harry?” It was Ginny. He stared across the room. He wanted to call out to her, to go back out and join the others and talk about Quidditch like it was the only thing that mattered, but his mouth and body had disconnected from his brain, and Ginny’s voice felt very far away, and he stared. “Are you in there?” In his mind, he inched closer and closer to that ugly, red, pulsing mass, and he wanted very much for someone to yank him back, to stop him, this did not belong in his head – DON’T! He reached out, and touched it, and his mind burst open – – it felt like acid was leaking into his brain – “Are you lost, Harry?” His head was swirling with an artificial confusion, he felt dazed, he felt wrong, and then there was darkness – “This is a broom cupboard….” – his body was frozen, he was helpless, he couldn’t do anything to protect himself, and there was – Sweet, sickly syrup sliding down his throat – He could taste it now, like he was being forced to drink it all over again, and he gagged, retching – “Harry?” came that nice voice again, and it was louder, and not so calm, anymore. There was a boiling, raging heat inside him, nothing but heat, heat, heat, and he was burning up…she was beautiful, so beautiful you couldn’t see what was hiding underneath – “There’s a good boy.” He could feel her hand on his face, as surely as if she were sitting next to him, and he wanted to jerk away, but he was paralysed, he couldn’t move, and then her phantom lips were pressing against his, forcing them open, and her tongue was in his mouth – Stop her, or you won’t like what comes next – stop her, you sorry little – There were other voices outside the door now. Help me. “I love you.” Those words were everything, they were the only important thing in the world, and she had taken his first ones, all for herself – There were hands all over him…. He couldn’t breathe. His head fell back and hit the locker behind him with a metallic bang. He lifted his head and slammed it back again, and again – “Get out of my head!” Harry gasped into the empty room. “You’re so gorgeous, Harry, hasn’t anyone ever told you?” A hand slipping into his pants – Harry’s whole body jerked and he kicked out, his foot slamming into one of the wooden benches. It toppled over with an almighty crash – The door was pounding now, pounding like the inside of Harry’s head. “Harry Potter, open this door right now, or I swear – ” She was pulling his clothes off, and then they were both naked, and she was on top of him – Harry squeezed his eyes shut. DON’T. PLEASE. There was the shout of a spell, and the door burst open. Someone shrieked. “Oh my God! Harry!” There was a clatter around him, and voices…. He was so cold. “Harry, stop!” Hermione…. He sensed a body kneeling down beside him, and a hand closed over his burning wrist – Harry startled at the contact, his eyes still shut tight, and he jerked away from it violently, his shoulder banging painfully into the lockers, and the hand released him. He still couldn’t breathe…. “Harry….” Her voice was trembling. “Harry…open your eyes….” Harry forced himself to focus, his breath coming fast and sharp. He concentrated all his willpower on slowing his racing thoughts, shoving the images of her face, her hair, her hands back through the door in his mind he never should have allowed himself to open in the first place – he pushed as hard as he possibly could – the door slammed shut…the too-real sensation of Romilda’s hands on his body began to fade, her voice draining out of his ears…when Hermione told him again to open his eyes, he obeyed on instinct. Ron and Ginny were standing over him, their faces stricken and pale. Hermione knelt next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks, her eyes wide, her hands held up in front of her as if to show she meant no harm…one of her hands was covered in blood…. Harry stared at the bloody hand in consternation. Why was she bleeding…? His shoulders were hitching with the force of his breath, which was still coming too fast and shallow, his head was swimming…. “Ginny, quick, go get help, Hagrid’s closest – ” Hermione said frantically. “No!” Harry croaked, hardly knowing what he was saying, and grabbed her wrist, his breath stuttering. “N-no…pl-ease….” “Harry, you need help, you’re hurt!” Hermione said shrilly. Harry blinked at her, confused, and his eyes fell to the hand he had wrapped around her arm. His wrist was torn open and raw, dripping blood down his arm, onto her skirt…Harry released her at once, mortified, and looked down at himself. His other hand was in a similar state, and there were drops of red spattered across his shirt…. “I don’t….” he panted. “W-what…what happened….?” “You don’t remember?” Ron asked tensely, his eyes raking over Harry’s face. His freckles stood out starkly in his bloodless face. Harry shook his head slowly, trying to think. He’d been scratching his wrists (had to get the itch out), he remembered that now…had he done this to himself? He hadn’t felt it…. Ginny knelt down on his other side. “You need to breathe, Harry,” she instructed, and her voice was steady despite the white-knuckled grip she had around her own knees. “In and out, come on.” Harry tried to obey. He focused on the hair framing her face, admiring its colour, even in the dim lighting of the changing room…it reminded him of the Burrow…of sunny days spent playing Quidditch in the apple orchard, and Mrs. Weasley humming to herself while she cooked supper…Mr. Weasley reading in his worn, patched armchair…Harry’s heart rate began to slow, and he managed to take several deep breaths. Ron had been hovering uncertainly, apparently debating whether to run and fetch help after all. But as Harry’s breathing slowed, he sank down onto his knees next to Hermione so they were all on the same level. A heavy silence fell over the four of them as Harry calmed, and he looked down at his mangled hands, drawing them close against his body, and refused to look at anyone. Nobody said anything for what felt like an eternity; then Hermione reached out tentatively, giving Harry time to refuse her touch if he wanted to, before resting her hand gently on his arm, careful to avoid his injuries. “What happened, Harry?” she prompted gently. Harry thought about that for a minute, his brain feeling sluggish and slow. He shrugged hopelessly, still not looking at any of them. “I don’t know…I…I was thinking, and then I just…I dunno, blacked out, I guess….” Exhaustion was setting in fast, dragging at Harry’s bones, and he thought he would like nothing more than to roll over right here and sleep for a week. “You mean like…a vision?” Harry wanted to say yes: here was a ready-made excuse for this…episode. An excuse that relieved him of all guilt for making them worry, for making them break down a door and find him collapsed on the floor of a locker room, covered in his own blood…but he could not bring himself to do it. And besides, if they were put under the impression that a vision from Voldemort had affected him this badly, they would want him to go straight to Dumbledore. He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You don’t have anything to apologise for,” said Ginny softly. A pause. “Where’re the others?” Harry asked, hoping the rest of the Gryffindor team weren’t standing outside, that they hadn’t heard…. “They went back up to the school, before I came looking for you,” Ginny told him, and Harry felt a bit better at that. “What were you thinking about, that made you...?” asked Ron suddenly, as though he wasn’t sure whether he should, and Harry glanced up at him. His expression was clouded. Harry shrugged again. “Something stupid. It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t, Harry decided, because was never going to go there again, was never again going to open the door in his mind that made him lose control like that, ever…. Ron’s eyes did not leave Harry’s face. “You hurt yourself.” Harry bristled, and said a little defensively, “I didn’t do it on purpose, I told you, I blacked out.” “Yes, well – ” Hermione said, her tone taking on some semblance of its usual briskness as she wiped the tears from her face. “We’ve got to get you up to the hospital wing – ” “I don’t need the hospital wing,” said Harry, and was shouted down at once. “Harry – ” “Are you mad?” “Yes, you do!” Hermione insisted heatedly, and they were all looking at him as if he’d grown another head. “You’re injured, Harry, and probably you need something for shock, too….” “I’m not in shock,” Harry growled, climbing to his feet, and the three of them scrambled to stand as well. “And it’s just a couple of scrapes, Hermione, I’m fine –” Though this statement lost something of its merit as Harry wobbled uncertainly and Ron reached out to steady him. Harry did not fancy the idea of traipsing through the school covered in blood, he could imagine the rumours it was bound to start. He just wanted to lie down, and for Hermione, Ron, and Ginny to forget this had ever happened…. “Look,” he said tiredly, looking around at their determined faces. “I’ll let one of you lot have a go at healing me, if you want, but I’m not going to Madam Pomfrey, and I’m not changing my mind.” “We can’t do that, Harry, we’re not qualified!” said Hermione. “What if something goes wrong? Besides, I don’t know those kind of healing spells….” “I do,” Ginny said quietly, and they all looked at her. “You do?” asked Ron, nonplussed. “Mum taught me.” “How come she never taught me?” Ron demanded, looking put out. “I asked her,” said Ginny, giving him a look. “Oh.” “But I still reckon we should take you up to the school, whether you like it or not,” Ginny said, turning back to Harry. There was a hard, blazing look on her face, and for a brief second Harry’s resolve weakened and he almost considered going. But he shook his head, looking into her eyes. He hesitated, and then held his ruined hands out to her. “Try? Please?” Ginny held his gaze for another second, then sighed, pulling out her wand. Hermione covered her eyes for a brief moment, shaking her head. “Unbelievable,” she whispered, and then fixed Harry with a glare. “Don’t you think you’ll be doing anything other than going straight to bed, when we get back up to the castle….” “Fine by me,” Harry said wearily. And then Ginny, very gently, took one of Harry’s hands in hers. Ginny’s skin was warm against his, and Harry’s belly performed a pleasant little flip, but that thing in the back of his mind into which he had vowed not to look loomed larger as she touched him, and he had to fight the urge to pull away. “Tergeo,” she said quietly, siphoning off the dried blood, then tapped her wand gently to his wound and the ravaged skin started to knit itself back together as Ron and Hermione watched. Hermione was still looking very worried, but fascinated, too. Harry could practically see the gears of her mind turning, trying to work out the mechanics of the spell, and he would have smiled under different circumstances. Ginny repeated the process with Harry’s other hand, and then pointed her wand at Harry’s shirt, said “Scourgify!” and Harry’s clothes were suddenly blood-free. Harry held his hands up, inspecting them. They were not quite good as new; the skin had closed up completely but was raised and slightly pink, like it was in the final stages of natural healing. But they were loads better than they had been, and Harry was more than a little impressed. “Thanks,” he said quietly. Ginny smiled at him, a little sadly, and said, “You’re welcome.” Harry swallowed and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest and hiding his newly-healed hands from view. He nodded awkwardly toward the door and said, “Erm – guess we’d better be getting back then….” “Harry – ” Hermione started significantly, but Harry walked quickly past her and out the door before she could say anything else.     Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Harry pulled two more dead flobberworms apart and tossed each one into a bowl. He glanced at the clock behind the desk where Snape sat, bent over a stack of paperwork, and groaned inwardly. He’d only been at it for half an hour. He had another whole hour left…. Snape looked up ominously at the pause in plunking sounds, and Harry grudgingly dug his hands back into the giant barrel of flobberworms he was sorting into rotten and not-rotten for use as Potions ingredients. Hermione and Ron had been furious at him when he had announced he was leaving the common room to serve his detention with Snape as planned. Ginny too. And she had looked so much like Mrs. Weasley as she’d threatened to hex Harry back into bed that even Ron had recoiled under the strength of her glare. The three of them had tried to convince Harry to tell McGonagall or Dumbledore what had happened so he wouldn’t have to attend this detention, but honestly, Harry thought grimly, as he dumped the bowl of rotten flobberworms into the rubbish bin and continued sorting, it was almost a relief to be down here up to his elbows in slimy dead worms with only Snape for company instead of up in the Tower with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry had gone straight to bed like he’d promised after the…fiasco…that morning. But when he had tried to lie down, he found he was too jittery to rest and made his way back down to the common room to ask Ron if he was up for a game of chess. Ron had kept shooting Harry highly anxious looks, however, and after their match Harry had gone right back up to bed. And on it had gone all afternoon, back and forth, bed, common room, bed, until Harry thought he’d go stark raving mad if he had to spend another second in Gryffindor Tower. So at half past eight he had been more than glad to depart for the dungeons, if only to get away from the oppressive pall of his friends’ worry and his own jumpy, restless nerves. Harry peered up at Snape again through his fringe. Snape didn’t teach in the dungeons anymore, of course, his office was up on the second floor now, but perhaps Snape missed his old stomping grounds, and that was why he had insisted on dragging Harry all the way down here to stock Potions ingredients, just like old times. It was odd, Harry thought, that he felt no misgivings about spending time alone with Snape, when the idea of being alone with Slughorn had nearly sent him into a panic…. Then again, Harry considered, throwing away another flobberworm. Perhaps it was not so odd after all. Snape was safe. Well, maybe ‘safe’ wasn’t exactly the right word. Harry knew Snape wouldn’t mind hurting him, given half the chance. He could still vividly recall the feeling of Snape’s fingers digging into his arm the day Harry had accidentally viewed his memory in the Pensieve, holding him in a vicious, biting grip, shaking him, throwing him to floor…. Harry’d had those bruises for two weeks, though he’d never shown anybody, not even Ron and Hermione. Old habits, he supposed. But that was just it, wasn’t it? Snape was predictable. He hated Harry. Despised him. And Harry returned the feeling with interest. Harry knew Snape was capable of hurting him, that Snape even took great pleasure in his misery and pain. But Snape did not like to touch Harry if he could help it. The ways he could choose to hurt Harry were expected, and obvious, and to the point. Snape was like the Dursleys. And Harry gleaned a small measure of bitter comfort from the unfailing certainty of that fact. Because he had started to think, somewhere behind that door in his mind that he couldn’t ever touch again, that maybe it was the less obvious ways of getting hurt that could really mess a person up. The ways you didn’t see coming. The ones that slithered in, disguised as something else, something nicer…something prettier…. Maybe, he thought, looking down at the damaged skin of his hands, the worst bruises did not come from fists, but flowers.

Phoenix Wright, A little bird told me that you’ve received the chance to lecture at your alma mater. How interesting that they would extend such a prestigious offer to you. The next time we meet you'll have to tell me all about it. I wonder how long you spent- The upside-down message, along with the rest of the mail, was swept off the kitchen table. Wright laid out two coasters and tucked the letter with neat cursive into his shirt. A drink was presented to him, and Phoenix dragged over the closet chair. “You brought along a catalogue?” Wright confirmed. “Yes.” Miles took it out of his organizer, and flattened the creases in the front page. It was a catalogue for his preferred tailor, currently earmarked with some personal choices, as well as ones he believed would suit Phoenix. They would find some selections first, and then go in to make alterations and purchases. It was somewhat premature to buy the clothes Wright would wear in court, but he still needed something proper for the lecture, and clothes for when they went on dates with a dress code. (He had several plans for that in mind.) “I see no reason for to get a full suit right now, unless you want to.” “How accurate are these colours to the samples?” Wright asked, examining a page. “Very, in my experience. Although, I find anything in white tends to be somewhat off from what’s been printed.” “I like that tie,” he said, pointing to a bubblegum pink one. “It matches the lettering on my hat.” “Not for long,” he darkly muttered, glaring at the vile thing in question. Miles knew Trucy had knitted it for her father, and thus it was a work of love and some such, but the hat needed to go. Preferably out the fourteenth floor window of his new office at work. “What was that?” “How do you feel about sweaters?” “No sweater vests.” “Tch, as if I’d let you dress like my eight year-old self.” “I can’t pull off a bowtie,” Phoenix added for good measure. “But a regular sweater sounds good. I’ve always liked them.” “It can’t be bulky,” he cautioned. “It will need to fit you properly.” “I used to layer a dress shirt and turtleneck when I was articling,” he answered thoughtfully. “And learning from Mia too…” “Casual, but acceptable for our purposes.” He licked the tips of his fingers to flip to the page of sweater styles. Wright naturally gave a squawk of disgust. “Why must you do that?” “I’ll stop as soon as you cease cracking your knuckles,” he reassured, landing on the section he was looking for. There was an array of sweaters in different patterns, cuts, and styles. Some he was personally drawn to, and had already marked down for consideration. Wright curiously poured over the page, before stabbing a single choice. “That.” “Move your finger so I can circle it.” Phoenix made another sound of disapproval when he deliberately drew a large red circle. “Hey, no prices,” he noted upon inspecting the image. “Don’t you worry about the cost.” “But-” “Consider it a gift.” There was a pause. “I don't understand.” “For the lecture, and a better future.” “I don't get-” his tone was stiff and uncomfortable. Phoenix kept his eyes glued to the page, though his mind was clearly distant. “What do you want from me?” “Pardon?” “What could you possibly see in me that's worth buying anything for? Let alone tutoring and dating and-” his fingers curled up, trembling. “I haven’t done anything to deserve you, so why are you doing this?” “I-I want you to succeed in your goals, and get back on your feet again,” he stammered, forcing himself to put his emotions into words. “But people don't do that. They don't befriend you, and pay for your meal every time you go out for seven years, and tutor your daughter in science because you were an arts student who never paid attention because they care about you,” he ranted. Phoenix squeezed his eyes shut, and kept a hand pressed his chest. “So what do you want? Am I just useful to your plans of legal reform? Is it sex? Or am I being kept close so you can devise a perfect scheme for when it's finally expedient to murder me-” “Contrary to what my glares may suggest, I do not plan on killing you.” “I can’t go through it again,” Phoenix tried to wipe the sweat glistening on his forehead, but his shaky hand fell short of its target. “Please don’t make me. Whatever it is just tell me or get it over with.” Telling the truth wasn't going to accomplish what it normally would have. He decided to rationalize, hoping that would prove his intentions to Phoenix. “Do you remember how Gumshoe used to cut up a tree’s worth of paper and hand it to observers in court, so they could throw it with our victories?” he gently asked. “Y-yeah.” “And how he would let you into crime scenes, and fudge up a testimony for you to find contradictions?” Those moments were the bane of his existence in the early days. But when the roles were reversed, and he was the one who needed to sneak into a crime scene, it was useful. Gumshoe was ready to give his all, even his beloved K-9 unit Missile, if it meant that much to the investigation. “Yes.” “Do you want to know something both infuriating and humorous about the man?” Swallowing thickly, he nodded. “The first time I met him, he was nearly convicted of murder. All because he promised a little girl he wouldn't reveal she’d talked to him, a stranger, so they could buy swiss rolls.” Taking him away from the stressful subject helped some. Still, Wright pulled at the neck of his sweater, and was too shaken to keep his expression schooled. “That sounds like Gumshoe.” Phoenix’s voice was croaky, almost as if he’d been crying. It nearly sounded like the insides of his throat were covered in rough sandpaper, which scratched at his words as they formed in his vocal cords. “And he's still taking little actions like that now. Not necessarily for us, but certainly for the new detectives he mentors,” Miles went on. “Do you really believe Gumshoe has had ulterior motives for the past decade or so?” At Wright’s uncertain expression, he glared. “Gumshoe doesn't have the mental capacity to scheme. It’s not a part of his personality.” “Yeah, I suppose.” “You suppose? Then what about the Feys?” “Dahlia and Iris had their fair share of-” “Did a seven year-old child decide you would be her adoptive father because she planned to kill you, or-” “Trucy’s a great kid,” he interjected. “I don't know how but she’s managed to put up with my worthless parenting skills, but she has.” “And there are good people out there,” he stated, reaching to caress his face. “It took me a long time to recognize them. But there are a lot more Gumshoes and Trucy Wrights than there are…” Phoenix slipped away from his touch, turning his head. “I’m sorry.” “I’ve told you before that I’d rather have you speak up.” “You don't know what it was like.” “To be close to a person who despised me and planned my ruin all along?” he condescendingly asked, each syllable dripping with displeasure. “To be systematically belittled and insulted by a narcissist?” “...I don't push you to talk about it.” “I would if you asked.” It was a spontaneous declaration, but somehow, Miles was aware that it was true. He was comfortable with the idea of talking to Phoenix about those times, should he ever want to know. “You’ve had eleven years. I’ve had three months.” Phoenix was certainly doing better than he was at the three-month point. By then he’d fled from his identity and the country, choosing death over facing the realities of his life. When put into perspective, it really wasn't that long. “I’m not demanding you tell me everything. Just that you’ll tell me something. Even if it is your opinion on my houseplants or piano sonatas.” “Edgeworth...” “Yes?” For a moment, he thought Phoenix would begin arguing anew. But he merely slumped his shoulders, and made a put-upon sound. “How can you stand dealing with me?” “I knew what I was getting into.”

It took Sudou a good hour to climb the steep hill, as he kept grabbing for roots that pulled out of the soil and sent him tumbling back down to the base, where he'd have to start over again.  Finally, he made it to the top and spotted the flag pole.  He lowered the flag from the tree tops and proceeded to destroy it, tearing the grass apart and stomping the little shells into the ground.  "You're brighter than I gave you credit for, Shuu," came Mikhail's voice behind him.  Sudou dropped the flag and made to bolt, but Viktor and another man grabbed his arms.  "And I didn't give you much."  Mikhail took the flag from Sudou's hands.  "Destroying the boy's signal flag, good job," he continued.  "Now, where's Takaba?  If you've killed him, you won't be leaving this island in one piece."    "I haven't seen him," Sudou lied.  "I saw the flag and wanted to destroy it before Asami saw it.  Then I was going to look for Akihito."  "Hmm," Mikhail mused, studying Sudou, who was a convincing liar.  "We'll continue our search then, and you will stay with us.  Tie his hands."  A third man tied Sudou's hands while the other two held them behind his back.  Mikhail grinned knowingly.  "We wouldn't want you getting to Takaba first and murdering him, now, would we?" "I won't try anything, Mikhail, I promise," Sudou said. "Yeah right.  Leash him."  The man who tied Sudou's hands made a loop with the remaining rope and slipped the loop around Sudou's neck.  He held the other end of the rope and gave it a tug, causing Sudou to stumble towards him.   "Now I believe you, Shuu," Mikhail said, laughing. *** Later that day, Mrs. Takaba's email arrived, and Kei printed it out and brought it to Asami.  "Relay this information to the pilots," Asami instructed Suoh after reading it.  Suoh immediately did so and told Asami that one of the islands in the list was coming into view.  "Get me visual," Asami ordered, and the pilots began a live feed of images from the planes' cameras to the computer on the boat, where Asami, Suoh, and Kirishima were watching. The planes then split up, each taking a different side of the island and transmitting their live feeds, which appeared on two monitors in the boat's cabin. Both feeds showed uninhabited beaches and jungle, nothing more....  *** The cannibals on the beach surrounded Akihito, for he looked exactly like the pale ghost-demons in the boat who'd attacked them the previous day with the loud slingshot.  The chief reached out and stroked Akihito's chest.  He wore an odd expression, amazed and fascinated.  He looked Aki up and down and then touched his skin again.   "Takaba Akihito," Aki repeated, pointing to himself.  The chief narrowed his eyes, then barked something at the two young tribesmen with spears.  Grabbing some vine, they tied his hands behind him and pushed him to sit. "Water," Aki said.  The cannibals looked confused. Aki nodded at a hand-made flask one of the men was holding.  The man nodded and held the flask to Aki's lips for a drink.  Aki gulped the water down, then nodded in gratitude.  The chief stared at him for another minute, then walked away.  Children also came to stare from a distance.  He smiled at them, and some smiled back.  A few were brave enough to venture closer; one or two actually touched him with a tentative finger, then ran off to hide behind their mothers.   Apparently, these people didn't plan to kill him immediately, which was--to say the least--a huge relief.  When the tribe began to move eastward down the beach again, Aki walked with them, escorted by the two young tribesmen. As the sun set, the tribe set up camp for the night, spearing fish in the surf and building a fire to cook them.  They untied Aki so he could relieve himself behind a palm tree and then eat some fish and drink more water.  Then, they tied him up again. He sat silently and watched as the tribesmen danced around the fire late into the night, chanting their hypnotic songs.  The firelight illuminated the faces of the men sitting cross-legged watching the dancers.  The women didn't participate in this ritual.  Instead, they spread out mats away from the fire and lay down to sleep with their children curled up beside them.  One of the women put a mat next to Aki, and he tipped himself over so he could lie on it and try to sleep.  He stared at the fire and continued to study the faces of the men as they chanted and conversed among themselves.  Their eyes, black and intense, glittered in the firelight.   As he was dozing off, he saw another pair of black, glittering eyes in the trees beyond the campfire.  The eyes moved, and Aki immediately became alert.  It was Ryuichichi.  He was sitting on a tree branch staring at Aki and not making a sound.  Aki's heart raced upon seeing him; was his little friend going to help him escape...? Sure enough, when the fire had died down and the entire camp was fast asleep, the monkey stealthily made his way down to the beach and over to Aki.  Their eyes met, but they both remained silent, and Ryuichichi went to work, gnawing through the vines that tied Aki's wrists.  When Aki's hands were free, the monkey made quick work of the vines binding his feet.  Aki stroked the animal's hair, and Ryuichichi touched Aki's arm and scampered off into the jungle.   Scanning the tribe, which was still sleeping soundly, Aki slowly rose to his feet and took off running through the jungle.  Less than a minute later, he heard yelling in the camp followed by footsteps behind him.  Aki ran faster, darting this way and that through the darkness, tripping over rocks and roots and logs, but continuing to move. One of the tribesmen was carrying a torch, and two others grabbed Aki simultaneously, causing him to fall facedown in the mud, nearly knocking his teeth out.  "Nooooooooooo!" Aki screamed, as the two men tried to pull him to his feet.  He hit and kicked at them, yelling and screaming, and they literally had to drag him back to camp. The chief was irate, his eyes blazing like a demon's as he shouted and bellowed in his language.  The men held Aki before him, and Aki continued to kick and scream; he was beyond terrified.  He was sure these cannibals were going to kill him, and he wasn't about to go down without a fight.  The chief kept yelling the same words at him, over and over, but Aki continued to kick and scream hysterically. The men holding him and the people watching looked terrified of the ferocious chief, whose chest was heaving in rage.  The tribesmen shook Aki and spoke to him in low, rushed voices, but he didn't calm down.  Finally, the chief picked up a wooden club, and with a murderous grimace, he slammed it with all his considerable strength against Aki's shin.  Aki screamed as he'd never screamed before.  It was out-of-your-mind pain, the kind that made him wish for instant death. Then the chief hit him equally as hard on the other shin. Aki went limp in agony, screaming and crying, his head spinning.  He suddenly felt light-headed and hot, and the noise around him faded to low ringing.  Then everything went black.... ***  When Aki awoke, he was lying on the mat tied up again, only two tribesmen were guarding him.  Excruciating pain throbbed upwards from his lower legs and spread throughout his body.  He knew he was going to be sick, and he tried to move his head off the mat.  He ended up vomiting onto the mat, and the pain from his legs became worse from the attempted movement.  He began to cry, and one of the tribesmen knelt beside him, his expression one of sympathy and fear.  The other man glanced nervously over at the others, who were still sleeping. The tribesman next to Aki said something to the other one, who then handed him a flask.  The man lifted Aki's head and helped him to drink water from the flask.  Then he gently moved Aki off the mat and turned it over to the clean side.  The man was obviously trying to be gentle, but even the slight movement made Aki gasp and sob.  He got a look at his legs, and they were purple and swollen; Aki was sure they were broken.  The man tending him cleaned his face with the water and then got him coconut milk to drink.        Aki lay sobbing and whimpering until dawn. In the morning, Aki's hands were untied, and as he suspected, his legs were broken, for he was unable to even stand.  The pain was unbearable, and he felt horribly nauseated.  Several women tried to give him food, but he had no appetite. The chief was in a foul mood, and he yelled orders at the others, who were packing up for another day of traveling.  He glowered at Aki, but said nothing to him. Since Aki was unable to walk, the two young tribesmen tied him to a pole and carried him down the beach.  ***  Suardika waited for Mikhail and the others to leave the hill before returning to the hut.  She wasn't afraid, she just didn't want a fucking confrontation, as there was too much to do.  She grabbed her many coconuts, pouring ingredients from them into her largest wooden bowl; things she'd had in those coconuts for years, just waiting for the right time, and that time had finally come.  She took the bowl to the jungle surrounding the hut, closed her eyes, and began to concentrate.  Her lips moved as she whispered the ancient spell, and sweat ran down her face.  She opened her eyes, and the whites were blood red.  She began tossing the powdery mixture into the air beneath the trees, chanting louder and louder, concentrating with such intensity that the birds and animals grew silent and instinctively knew to stay away.  They fled the trees, the bushes, the ground.  Even the snakes slithered deep into their holes to hide from what was coming. When all the powder was gone, the witch dropped the bowl, and slowly raised her hands, palms towards the jungle.  Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she began to shake.  The powder started to glow like embers and rise from the jungle floor.  It rose higher and higher, growing brighter, until it turned into actual fire and began to burn in the canopy above.  Only like the burning bush of the Bible, nothing was actually consumed, but the flames continued to glow and dance red and orange and yellow and white-hot.  A huge section of the canopy was covered by the flames, but it did not burn, and there was no smoke, just a huge, brilliant light. *** "I don't see a signal flag," Suoh said, his brow furrowing as he watched the live feed from the plane flying over the west side of the island.  "Wait--  What is that?" "Are you seeing this, Suoh-sama?" came the pilot's astonished voice over the audio feed.   "Yes," said Suoh. A huge section of forest canopy was engulfed in flames, but there was no smoke.  What's more, it was a perfect circle of fire.  "It's a signal," Asami said.  "The planes are doing another pass," said Suoh.  "Lower this time."  "There's a sub just offshore," said Asami, watching the feed.  Suoh clicked the image and enlarged it.  "Russian." "Mikhail," said Asami.  "Get us in closer, but stay out of range." "Bring us in, stealth," said Suoh.  "We'll deploy the drones as soon as we're close enough."  The boat's captain engaged the boat's stealth motor, and the boat quietly made its way towards a cove.  The drones were sent in to surveil the island and determine just who was where; specifically Akihito, but also the Russians.  Asami knew Mikhail had likely seen his planes and would be prepared for him.  Just what he had planned, Asami didn't know. The crime lord and his team had several rescue plans ready, depending on the conditions.  Suoh was carefully reviewing the images from the drones.  His expression was grim.    "Akihito appears to be in the cannibal camp, Asami-sama.  Last visual was that he was tied to a pole, but he's gone now, and the camp is now populated." Asami looked at the island's layout on the computer screen.  "The Russians are on the north side, and Akihito is on the east." "The sub has moved to the north side, as well," said Suoh.  "There's another cove on the south-east side.  It's the best place to launch the rescue." "Keep us just outside the cove," said Asami.  "We'll take the smaller boats in." Asami and his men changed into camouflage, dark shirts, and boots.  They began donning their gear and weapons. The decision was made to secretly "extract" Akihito under cover of darkness, as they didn't want to risk injuring him and alerting the Russians with a noisy assault.  They would, however, be prepared to fight cannibals, the Russians, or both.  The order was to destroy anyone and anything that got in their way.  One way or another, Akihito was leaving the island with Asami that night. *** Aki felt as if he'd been in the tiny hut for days.  After arriving at their village, the cannibals had untied him and tossed him onto the dirt floor of a small, round hut.  Aki had cried and screamed in pain, as there'd been no regard for his broken, purple limbs, which were now twice their normal size.  He was then rubbed all over with some kind of oil.  The chief himself had participated in this task, stroking Aki's skin, touching his prick, and inserting his fingers into his ass. The chief stunk to high heaven, and his breath was hot and putrid as he ran his hands all over Akihito.  Aki had glanced into the man's eyes, and he'd seen lust and hunger there.  Was the chief going to fuck him and then eat him???  Aki felt as if he was in some obscene nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He was also running a high fever and lay on the dirt floor, fading in and out of consciousness, for hours.  Nobody brought him food or water, and he became dehydrated.  When night came, the camp fire was lit, and the tribesmen began their dancing and chanting again.  Aki could see the firelight through the cracks in the hut.  Still, no one came to tend him, and he knew he was going to die.  He would never see Asami again, nor anyone else he cared for.  He wondered if Asami would ever discover what'd happened to him, or if the cannibals would so thoroughly dispose of his bones--using them in fences and mounting his skull on a post--that he'd never know. He thought about Suardika and Ryuichichi.  Maybe the witch would tell Asami about Aki's life on the island.  Perhaps the monkey could somehow communicate Aki's fate.  At least then, Asami would have closure, and he could go on about his new life with Sudou.  Aki moaned in agony when he thought about Sudou in Asami's arms and bed.  Sudou, who was reason he'd been captured by the cannibals.  Asami would never know the truth. Aki closed his eyes, and awaited his fate, the rising fever distorting the pitch of the chanting so that it almost sounded like laughing.  He didn't hear the noise behind the hut, as his head was facing the other way; the cutting of grass and bamboo. "Akihito," came the whisper. Aki didn't hear, as he was fading into unconsciousness again. "Akihito." Aki slowly raised and turned his head.  Someone was squatted behind the hut peering in at him through a curved opening.  The person was blurred: green, black, and weird, black eyes with no whites. The person murmured, "Jack," then pushed up the weird eyes to reveal golden ones.  "Asami," Akihito breathed weakly, "are yooou reeeeal?"  His speech was slow and slurred. "Yes," said the crime lord, shoving into the opening and grabbing Akihito with gloved hands.  Aki would've cried with joy, but he was so dehydrated, he had no tears. Others were suddenly there with Asami: Suoh, and two other men.  The two other men had guns drawn and were scanning the area with the same weird, black eyes that Aki realized were night-vision goggles. And there he was, cradled in Asami's arms.  Aki sobbed and weakly slid his arms around the man's neck, burying his face in his black shirt.  The crime lord kissed Aki ardently several times--his temple, his cheek, and finally his mouth--then nuzzled his hair, his breath hitching with emotion. "His legs are broken," Suoh murmured, carefully examining Aki's shins.  Asami looked into Akihito's unfocused eyes.  "Your legs, Kitten.  How did this happen?"    "Chief did it," Aki sighed.  "After they caught me n' brought me back."  A low growl rumbled in Asami's chest, and for a moment, he was so infuriated, he couldn't see straight. That these savages had dared to hurt his kitten made him want to kill every one of them and turn their village into a smoking pile of ash.  But that would take time, and his kitten needed medical care now.  Best to stick to the plan.  The other team was just about in position to kick things off.  "So thirsty," Aki murmured.   Suoh handed Asami an open canteen, and the crime lord gave his lover several sips.  "You came for me," Aki murmured.  "You came for me."  He burrowed back into Asami's chest. Wordlessly, Souh wrapped a nylon sling around Aki and began expertly harnessing him to Asami's body.  Suoh quickly splinted the broken shins together and wrapped them.  This was all done in under a minute. Asami pulled down his goggles.  Suoh did the same and retrieved his gun. "Flush," Suoh said into his Bluetooth, and the four-man rescue team disappeared into the jungle.    As they moved stealthily through the darkness, Asami whispered in amusement to a semi-conscious Aki, "Their god is about to pay them a visit, Kitten."    Suddenly a loud noise that sounded like a firework, a screeching "piccalo pete," interrupted the cannibal chanting, and then firecrackers and colored smoke bombs started going off everywhere.  All hell broke loose in the village, as people and dogs panicked and ran, unable to see through the smoke and terrified of the noise.   Magnificent fireworks exploded over the ocean, and the entire tribe ran to the beach to see--gasping and with huge eyes--for they'd never witnessed such a thing.  The children screeched with delight at the beautiful colors, as the men fell to the sand, thinking this was their god and that they had conjured him with their dancing and chanting. The rescue team continued to move through the jungle towards the cove, where the small motorboats were waiting to take them back to the speedboat. "Dogs," Suoh said into the Bluetooth, and every gun--including Asami's--was trained on the clearing before them.  The Russians were there waiting, also with guns drawn. "Get out of my way, Mikhail," Asami said, as Suoh covered him. "I see you beat me to Takaba," the Russian said dryly.  "That's too bad." Asami's expression became dangerous.  "Get out of my way." "There's the matter of my club," said the Russian. "I told you, I did not sabotage it," said the crime lord.    Mikhail was sizing up Asami.  "We seem to be at a draw." Suddenly, there was loud slap, and Mikhail had a pancake of what looked like mud in his face. "What the--"  He wiped at it.  "It's shit!" Viktor was being rained on.  "Piss!" he yelled, moving away and rubbing his eyes frantically. Things were falling at tremendous speed from the trees--branches, sticks, fruit, coconuts, a wasps' nest--as if being fired from a cannon.  Only the Russians were being hit.  "Shoot whatever the fuck it is!" Mikhail yelled, but his men looked up and saw nothing, for Ryuichichi was high in the dark canopy and not making a sound.     Asami, Suoh, and the rest of the team had already shoved past the Russians and were running towards the cove.   Viktor raised his gun, and Suoh shot it out of his hand.  Mikhail ran after Asami, taking aim, but the crime lord shot out his kneecap.  The Russian fell to the ground, screaming.   Two of Asami's men were at the beach guarding the cove.  When Asami, Suoh, and the rest of the team appeared, they all got into two inflatable motorboats and sped out of the cove towards the speedboat.  Suoh helped Asami get Akihito unharnessed and into his lap. In several minutes, they pulled up alongside the speedboat, and Asami carefully handed Akihito up to Kirishima. "They broke his legs," the crime lord muttered angrily. Kirishima's eyes registered disgust at that revelation, and he gently wrapped Akihito in a blanket.  Asami climbed aboard, took Akihito back into his arms, and carried him to the seats in the rear.  Kei appeared with a loaded syringe. "For your pain, Kitten," Asami murmured as Kei injected Aki.  Almost immediately, Aki felt the drug hitting his system, taking with it his excruciating pain and making him very sleepy.  Kei held a straw to Aki's lips, and the young man sipped.  It was chocolate, whatever it was.  Aki thought that nothing had ever tasted as good as that drink. The fireworks team arrived, and the captain put the speedboat in gear.  It headed out to sea in stealth mode until it was safely away from the island.  Then, the lights went on, and the boat practically flew over the waves. Akihito lay cradled in Asami's arms, wrapped in a blanket, his shins still taped together.  He sobbed drowsily, "You came for me.  You came for me."  "To the end of the abyss, my Akihito," Asami murmured softly.  He kissed his kitten's forehead and nuzzled his hair.  Akihito mumbled something inaudible, then sighed and drifted off to sleep with the crime lord holding him as if he'd never let go.   

I suppose the story should start with a little background about my wife and me. We are professional people living on the St Lawrence River in the Thousand Islands area. We are in our mid 50's and a few years ago we downsized our life style (sold the big house and most the stuff in it) so that we could afford a sailboat and spend the summers sailing in and around this beautiful area. Last summer, we decided to extend our cruising into Lake Ontario, and made up our minds to circumnavigate the lake. That may not seem like much to some of the readers, but it meant that we would be sailing for several weeks and travelling about 350 nautical miles in total. It took about four days to get to the start of Lake Ontario and it was dead calm; so, we had to motor for the first two days. We stopped each night at different towns, met up with a few friends, and generally did the cruising thing we had been doing for the last few years. Our next stop was the big city of Toronto and the perfect place to dock the boat was at Centre Island, which is a large, municipally run park, just a few hundred yards off shore. There are ferries which take thousands of people back and forth to the island for picnics, playgrounds, and, of course, the beaches. Our plan was to stay a few days and to explore the island and to use the ferry to get into town and explore the big city. We arrived at dusk after a very blustery day on the water; so, we were content to just tie up, cook our late supper and go to bed. In the morning, we were well rested and happy to be staying put for a few days. We got breakfast and decided to go for our morning run on the paved roadways on the island (there are no cars allowed). So, off we went for a three mile jog in the hot sun of the early morning. About 100 yards into the run, we were on a walking path with many signs to the beach. This was a great place to run and to check out the beach at the same time. "Hey look at that!" my wife said. So I looked up and saw the sign to the "CLOTHING OPTIONAL BEACH" "This ought to be interesting." I said. "Let's check it out." Normally, once we are on a run, we don't like to stop. We had only just started and the sign was a total shock to us. We had no idea that there was a nude beach on Centre Island. At any rate, we decided to walk off the path and cross the small sand dune to take a look. The beach was beautiful and almost deserted. There were only about a dozen people around as it was early morning, but sure enough, they were naked as naked could be. The nearest person to us happened to be the only woman on the beach, and she was doing a very slow Tai Chi routine. She moved with steady, purposeful grace as she bent and stretched through her movements. As weird as this may seem, I was focused on her movement rather than her nakedness. Don't get me wrong, I was checking her out, but the sun, the sand, and the moves, made a greater picture than the nudity. "God, I'd love to spend some time walking naked around here. What do you think?" I asked my wife. "Yahhh, I'm sure you would." she replied in a somewhat sarcastic tone, but she did say, "We can do our run and end up at the far end when we come back." The clothing optional area was about a quarter mile long and there was a fence at the far end to mark it off. I was excited as hell at the sudden prospect that my wife would be willing to walk nude down a public beach. My cock had the first stirring of an erection and I asked. "Do you mean you'll walk down the beach in the nude?" "You can if you want to, but the sign says ‘clothing optional' so we don't have to be naked." she replied. Her response wasn't exactly a "No!" so life was looking up, as we started off on the run. The twinge in my cock had not diminished and the old running shorts were developing a sudden bulge. My head was reeling with the prospect of spending time on a nude beach and especially with the possibility of my wife going along with it. "Hey wait a minute," I thought to myself, "I'm just thinking about this, and my cock is close to rock hard. What will I do when, and if, I drop my drawers in public?" For the rest of the run, I could think of nothing else. Would my wife really spend the afternoon on a nude beach? Would she get pissed off at me for looking at other women? Would I be rock hard for all to see? It was the shortest three mile run of my life. It was not because of the pace, but because I was totally focused on the beach and never once though about the aches and pains of running. Three miles later, we were back at the fence and standing at the gate. "Are you going to do it?" my wife asked. Before I could answer, she saw that I had my shirt off and my running shorts were around my ankles. Off came the shoes and socks and there I was, naked for all to see, desperately hoping my dick would not grow. I didn't pressure my wife, but I was praying she would not freak and stop the whole idea right there. She kept her running clothes on. My wife has never been a prude by any means. In our younger years, we had skinny dipped a few times with other friends but those episodes were always a quick strip and dash to the water as fast as you can. They weren't like this. As we made our way down the beach, we saw the dicks, and boobs, and butts, and crotches. It was a weird experience, but we almost instantly understood what we had heard for years about nudism. Nudist resorts and nudity are not sexual but are more a feeling of freedom and exhilaration. There were far more men on the beach than there were women. Many were effeminate and we were convinced that most of them were gay. Almost to a man, they were totally shaved. The other thing we noticed right away was the silence of the beach. Everyone was simply lying on towels or walking up and down like us, but there was no yelling, or laughter, or screaming kids throwing Frisbees. It was not like most beaches we had been to in that respect. The other end of the beach was reached in about fifteen minutes and we were set to go back to the boat. "Do you want to come back for the afternoon, Dear?" I asked. "Ok but I'm wearing my suit." "Will you be pissed off at me if I'm naked?" "You can do what you want? I can look at everybody and read my book. If you want to be nude that's up to you." About three hours later, it was noon and we had just finished lunch. We decided to take a sleeping bag we had on board to lie on. We had a second glass of wine at the boat, and it was off to the beach. My wife had her two piece black bathing suit on plus a T-shirt. I wore my running shorts and a t-shirt as well. We spread out the sleeping bag and I whipped my stuff off. My wife took her shirt off but was still in her suit. We settled in pretty well, and we were checking out everybody in our area. We were surprised that nobody was staring at us or bothering us at all. Every once in a while, I would have to knock a little drop of ‘dick drip' off my cock, but I was still soft and proud that I could control it ok. My wife sat up after about twenty minutes and said, "I guess I could take my top off." She unclasped the bra and shook it loose. All I could say was "That' a girl… nobody's looking at us anyway." Her breasts are not huge but more than ample and still very firm. They were white below her tan lines; so, she casually reached for the creamy sun screen and gently rubbed it over and around her smooth tits. I'm sure she was playing with me the way she took extra time to do it. Her nipples stood out as they felt the coolness of the liquid mixed with the freshness of the air. For the next fifteen minutes or so, she lay on her back with the sun warming her chest and then she said, "Ah, What the fuck!" She lifted her hips and hooked her fingers just below the waistband of her suit. Off came the last hint of modesty as she pulled them down her legs and over her feet. Bang! My dick got rock hard instantly. I could hardly flip over fast enough to lie on my stomach. I had spent half an hour looking at naked bodies all over the place and felt only a slight twinge, but when she dropped the suit it was rock hard and pouring pre-cum all over the sleeping bag. If I hadn't tried to hide it, I could have cum on the spot without touching myself. Her legs were bent so that her feet were flat on the ground. I couldn't believe it! Here was my wife, totally naked, lying in full view of everyone. The beach was starting to fill up as we were approaching the heat of the day. More than a hundred people could look at her and me and see all that we owned. It was both tremendously exciting and yet strangely mundane. Nobody seemed to even notice that she was now nude or that my cock was dripping profusely. "God my dick is hard!" I said. "Just lie on your stomach for a while and he will come down." she responded. "Can you feel the breeze on your pussy?" I asked. "I've got to tell ya' that it is tickling my balls and it feels soooo good." "Mmmm it does feel good doesn't it?" she agreed. "Man, you look beautiful." I whispered. "You're lying there naked. I love thinking about your crotch open to the world and all these men seeing you; knowing they're jealous as hell." "They are all gay!" she said. "They are drooling over you, not me." We laughed and started looking around again. "Check this guy out! Look at his dick." I said My wife turned a bit and saw what I was talking about. One of the gay guys (I assumed) had about five rings pierced into his penis. The five rings were attached to each other by a series of chains that were then tied around his balls. Those made my dick shrivel (thankfully) as I couldn't believe it. The afternoon continued and it was a beautiful hot summer's day. The temperature was hovering around 30 degrees centigrade. We lay on the bag and watched the men and women as they arrived and stripped or walked quietly back and forth in front of us. My cock would drip a bit from time to time but the sun and sand, and the beautiful water brought us back to ‘just another day on the beach'. We were getting pretty hot though, so I said we should go for a swim. My wife agreed, but she then put her bikini bottoms back on and we headed down to the water. It was unbelievable to me to be walking naked around people lying there and my dick swinging in the breeze. The water was fairly cool so I was praying for shrinkage but the wife swam towards me and wanted to tease me by hugging me and wrapping her legs around mine. Well that was an instant boner! She giggled and teased knowing what was bound to happen. She then headed back to the sand and I had to swim around for a while until I could get out of the surf. I emerged with what I call a ‘pudge' displayed. My cock was thicker than normal but much less than a raging hard on. I tried in vain to casually cover myself as I walked back towards her, but the effort seemed laughable; so, I just let the pudge swing freely. Back on the sand, we settled down and she took her pants off again, much to my relief. I asked her why she had put them on and she just shrugged and said she wouldn't wear them next time. The afternoon drifted along, and we had sunned and swam many more times totally enjoying our new freedom and laughing and joking. We saw many more pierced pricks and a few vagina rings as well. A few times, I felt embarrassed when my dick would twitch when some women walked by. However, the thing that really brought the old boy to life was when I'd look over at the woman I've loved for years and saw her pussy wide open. I would think about eating her right there knowing how fast she would cum. Finally, the afternoon came to a close and we headed back to the boat. We stepped aboard and my wife said, "Not until we have supper." I knew she wanted to fuck as much as I did but she is a diabetic and has to eat her meals on time. I never prepared a barbeque faster in my life. There was an absolute puddle on my running shorts in anticipation of the after dinner treats. "Slow down" she said when she saw that my shorts were soaked. I was ok with that because I knew the night would be great. We drank some wine and waited until the sun started to go down. We talked about the beach and this guy's dick and that woman's boobs. Clearly, we couldn't get the day out of our minds. The bugs were starting to come out so we went below. It was about two seconds into cabin and I put my hand on her ass cheek just under her shorts. She turned and kissed me while I grabbed both sides of her ass with a real sense of urgency. "God I loved the beach!" she said and I slid my hand around to stroke her crotch over her shorts. "Mmmm ... not too much or I'll come too soon." I quickly slid my hands up under her t-shirt to feel her braless tits. I pinched her nipples and they hardened under my touch. We continued to tongue each other in a deep French kiss. She grabbed my cock by the front of my shorts and said, "God he's big! You loved the beach too!!" I lifted her shirt and she helped me take it over her head. Her shorts were off in a flash as well and we giggled a little because she couldn't get my shorts off. My rock hard cock was catching the waist band of my shorts. We stopped the passionate kiss and concentrated on the freedom of my pecker. When it sprang forth, I flexed my ass cheeks thrusting it forward. "I wish I could have shown this on the beach eh?" I asked. "I would have pumped him right there in front of everybody." she responded. I slid my finger through her pussy lips and over her clit. "Oh ya' … and I could finger you like this, right out in the open." I started to stroke her lips and slide my finger back and forth. She grabbed my cock and pulled on it as if to stretch it even more. My dick had never been bigger or harder but her strong, continuous tug made me feel power and strength in my cock that I had not felt in years. It actually made me swoon and I twisted around and sat on the seat beside me. She turned with me and stood in front of me still with a firm grip on my manhood. I grabbed the base of my cock and forced the head toward her vulva. She helped me guide it and we were both so wet it slid to the hilt in one quick thrust. She sighed and I grunted as we started to rock in unison. It was so intense and I felt so hard that I knew I could last forever. We fucked like that – me sitting and her standing- for a minute or two but her legs were getting tired so she let me fall out and she turned around with her back to me. I got the idea immediately and entered her from behind. "Ohhhh. God! That is soooo good. He is sooo hard. I can't take it all. He is sooo big." Her words increased my intensity even more. " Yesssss… I could have fucked you like this when you were lying on the beach. I would have cum in two strokes. Everybody could see my big cock and your dripping pussy. Man, I love to fuck and I love being naked on the beach." We pumped and rocked with me sitting and her bouncing on my dick from behind. I reached around and rubbed her clit with my middle finger as the thrusting continued. It seemed like I could last forever but I wanted her to cum. She was giving it her all, but I knew her legs were getting tired again. "Let's go up to the V-Berth." I suggested. She stood fully upright and grabbed my prick with that strong tug again and walked me to our bed. We climbed up and under the single sheet on the bed. "I love you!" I said. "I love the beach." she said, and again she turned with her back to me but still holding my prick. Thinking I knew what to do, I reached for her cunt and separated her lips to take my raging hard on back up to the hilt. She reached back to stop me. "I want you up my ass, Honey!" She cooed, "ohhhh. I'd love it up my ass." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. We had tried it in the past a few times, particularly when we were drunk, but without much success. It wasn't that she hated it or that I demanded it. Anal sex just wasn't a significant part of our sex life. However, she wanted it now and I was holding a baseball bat of a cock in my hand. I rubbed the head through the folds of her sex to gather the natural moisture that was abundant. I spread the pre-cum all over my bone and pressed gently but steadily at her asshole. The head popped in surprisingly easily. "Easy honey…go slow" she said "We've got to get it all the way in." My wife was begging me to shove my prick all the way up her ass. It only took a few gentle strokes and a little added pressure and before we knew it, I was pumping by huge cock in smooth thrusts all the way back and all the way forward. "Yes Honey! It's all the way up. I can feel your balls hitting my pussy. Pump him Honey. Fill my ass with your cum" "Uggg … Aahhhh, Uunnnhhh" was all I could say. I was thrusting and pumping for all I was worth but the peak was not reached. "Shit! I just can't cum." She didn't flinch. "I want you to eat me. You can pump your dick while you eat me on the beach." She pulled away and spun around before I knew what was happening. Her thighs were beside my face and she was begging me to suck her clit. I was on it like a hungry shark. I lapped at her lips and slid my tongue over her clit. My right hand went to my pecker and I couldn't believe the feel of my hardness. I stroked it slowly as I felt the intensity elevate in my wife's pussy. "I'm going to cum honey… you are sucking me on the beach. Oh eat my cunt! Make me cum. Suck me off on the beach. Oohhh aahhh I'm Cuummming Oohhhhh mmmmmm." It lasted forever. I could feel her contractions and wave after wave of the intensity pouring out of her. "Ooohhh… God honey. Did you pump your cock? Did you come?" she said as her climax started to subside. "Not yet!" I said still focusing on her intense satisfaction. "Watch me pump my pecker… talk to me." "Do you want to go back to the beach tonight?" ….pump. "You could play with your cock in front of everybody" …..stroke, stroke. "Then you could eat me on the beach….make your cock shoot… blow your pecker… pump him pump him" I pounded my prick as she talked. All I could say was "I want to see you… on the beach …with your legs spread wide, … your cunt exposed to the world" It brought me to the brink and my cock shot rope after rope of hot cum all over her chest. I started to lightly chuckle with the release of the tension. It turned to laughter and my wife joined in. Soon we were laughing hysterically and we fell into each other's arms reveling in our love. To be continued

“Jeonggukie, wake up! We’re going to do something really fun today!” Jeongguk was sleeping peacefully until Hoseok clamored into his room, turning on the lights and speaking loudly. Jeongguk was planning on getting to sleep in a bit since it’s the weekend, after all, but Hoseok had different plans for him, apparently. “What’s going on, hyung?” Jeongguk asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He’s still very groggy and he can’t quite piece together what’s going on. He thought it was some kind of an emergency at first, with how loudly Hoseok was speaking to him. However, his brother seems to be very excited about something. He isn’t sure what. “It’s Appa’s birthday today, of course!” Hoseok says happily. He seems incredibly excited, which isn’t unusual. Hoseok tends to get excited about even the silliest of things. It’s no wonder he’s practically bouncing off the walls because it’s his father’s birthday. “Oh,” Jeongguk says, still feeling sleepy. He’s happy that it’s his father’s birthday, but he still wants to go back to sleep. Why couldn’t this have waited a few more minutes? “Happy birthday.” He puts his head back down on his pillow, beginning to drift off. “Nope!” Hoseok says, grabbing his younger brother’s arm. “You’re helping us prepare, Kookie! We don’t have a lot of time, you know. Appa got called into work for a few hours, so we’re going to bake a cake from scratch for him. It’ll be really fun, but I need you to wake up, okay?” Oh, that does sound like fun. Jeongguk yawns and forces himself out of bed, heading to the kitchen in his pajamas and still-messy hair with Hoseok. The kitchen counter is covered with cooking supplies. Mixing bowls, spatulas, and several ingredients cover the kitchen counter to the point where Jeongguk can hardly make out the counter itself. “Oh, Jeonggukie!” Jin says once he notices Jeongguk with Hoseok. He’s wearing an apron and he seems to be preparing even more ingredients. Jeongguk didn’t know there were that many things that go into making a cake. “I’m so happy you’re up! Hoseok probably told you already, but we’re going to be making a cake for your Appa today. Do you want to help?” Of course he does. Jeongguk loves his Appa so much and baking him a cake will probably make him really happy. It’ll be the best birthday present ever. While Jeongguk is helping Jin prepare the ingredients, Jimin and Taehyung are standing idly by. They both woke up early to prepare the cake. The only problem is they haven’t exactly made up yet, and there is still a heavy tension between the two of them. Jimin can tell that Taehyung hasn’t heeded his advice about Jackson. It seems like the two are still sitting together at lunch every day, and Taehyung has been going out almost every day “to meet up with a friend,” as he’s been telling Jin and Namjoon. He’s just worried about his brother. Why can’t Taehyung understand that? He seems to be way too infatuated with Jackson and Jimin doesn’t think that’s healthy. Everything between them happened so fast and Jimin hardly knows anything about the guy. He can’t approve of the relationship unless he knows Jackson through and through. He just wants his brother to be safe. If anything bad happened to him because of his relationship with Jackson, Jimin would be devastated. Taehyung is scared. It kind of feels like the walls are closing in on him and he wants to leave the kitchen immediately, but that would only raise even more suspicion. He feels trapped by Jimin. He knows his brother isn’t doing anything intentionally, but he still feels apprehensive around him ever since the argument. He isn’t sure what Jimin is thinking about him, but it can’t be good. Jimin probably hates him now. He yelled at him at lunch and Jimin never raises his voice at him. Taehyung wants to make amends with his brother, but he’s afraid. He’s afraid that Jimin hates him, doesn’t want him, wants to hurt him. After what Jackson did to him that day, he isn’t sure who he can trust anymore. Jackson never raised his voice at him before and he ended up slapping him. If Jimin was willing to yell at him in the middle of the cafeteria, what else could he do? Another, much more valid reason why Taehyung is currently afraid is because he had to text Jackson earlier to cancel his plans with him. He wasn’t sure what the family would do to celebrate his father’s birthday, so he thought it would be fine if he hung out with his boyfriend for a little while before it was time to celebrate. However, when Jin told him that Namjoon got called into work and they would be baking a cake, he knew he wouldn’t have time to see Jackson today. Taehyung: Hey Jackson. I’m really sorry but I can’t make it to your place today. It’s my dad’s birthday and we’re making a cake. It’s really important. [9:53am] Taehyung: I’m sorry. [9:54am] Jackson responded only a few seconds after Taehyung sent his last text. Jackson: are you kidding me??? we were supposed to work on the project today! [9:54am] Jackson: it’s the last time we can meet before the presentation on monday! [9:54am] Jackson: if you fuck up the project i’m not gonna go easy on you. remember that. [9:55am] Taehyung felt his heart beat quickly in his chest. He knew it was important that they met today to work on the project worth a large portion of their grade, but his father’s birthday was even more important. He knew Jackson would be upset, but he forgot how upset his boyfriend could get. So now, Taehyung is scared because of his brother and his boyfriend. He never thought things would be this way, but life has a way of surprising him, he has come to realize. He just hopes this baking session will go by easily without any incident. Yoongi is looking forward to baking this cake. Out of all of the brothers, he’s one of the only ones who can actually cook. Jin always jokes that it’s because he’s the only one who follows the recipe, which is probably true. If the recipe calls for a cup of flour, he’s adding one cup of flour. He doesn’t see what’s so difficult about baking. “Those are pasteurized eggs, Jimin,” Yoongi says, watching his brother struggling to choose the right eggs for the recipe. “You’re supposed to be using regular eggs.” Jimin sighs in frustration. “What’s the difference, hyung?” he asks. “They’re both eggs! Why does it matter which one has a fancy name and which one we buy at the store most of the time?” He groans. “Baking is so hard.” Yoongi finds that pretty hilarious. He isn’t really sure why his brothers have such a hard time with cooking and baking, but it’s fun to help them. “They look very different on the inside, Jimin,” he explains. “If we use pasteurized eggs, the cake won’t come out the way we want it to. Do you know how to crack an egg?” Jimin shakes his head, looking clueless. Yoongi sighs. This is going to be a long day, isn’t it? While Yoongi is helping Jimin figure out which eggs to use, Hoseok is helping Taehyung with mixing some of the ingredients. “It’s not a test, Tae,” Hoseok jokes, noticing how frightened his brother looks. “You can relax. Here, I’ll show you how to mix it.” Hoseok isn’t sure why Taehyung has been more reserved lately. He knows about Jackson, but he doesn’t think that has anything to do with his strange behavior. It’s probably because of the argument he had with Jimin, he reasons. He hopes the two will be able to make up soon. He hates seeing them so distant from each other like this. “We’ll wait for Yoongi and Jimin to finish figuring out what an egg looks like before we add the butter and the sugar,” he jokes. Taehyung cracks a smile at that and Hoseok is happy he could help his brother relax a little. “Just between you and me,” Hoseok says in a whisper so the rest of the family can’t hear, “Jimin is really sorry for what he said to you.” Taehyung isn’t sure how Hoseok knows about their argument, but he nods nonetheless. “I’m sorry, too,” he says. “I was being really stubborn and Jimin was right. I should’ve just listened to him.” Hoseok gives Taehyung a pat on the shoulder. “I’m not the one you should be telling, Tae,” he says. “Go on. I’ll make something up to get Yoongi-hyung to help me for a while.” He clears his throat, then shouts, “Yoongi-hyung! I think I broke the spatula!” He hears Yoongi mutter something about how it shouldn’t be physically possible to do that, but the eldest brother heads over to Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s station nonetheless. Hoseok winks at Taehyung, letting him know that now is the perfect time to make up with Jimin. Hoseok has given him the perfect opportunity and Taehyung doesn’t want his brother’s efforts to go to waste, so he heads over to Jimin. “Hey, Jimin,” he says nervously, looking down at his feet. “Can we, um, talk? About what happened the other day?” Jimin seems surprised that Taehyung is talking to him. Then, he says loudly, “Dad! Tae and I are going to get some decorations from the attic!” It’s not a very good excuse, but Jin is to preoccupied with teaching Jeongguk how to mix ingredients properly that he doesn’t dwell on it for too long. Instead of going to the attic, Jimin leads Taehyung into his room. He sits Taehyung down on the bed and sighs. “I’m really sorry, Tae,” he says immediately. Taehyung wasn’t expecting the apology to happen so quickly. In fact, he was prepared to apologize himself. “I should never have yelled at you like that. I know what it does to you and I completely disregarded that because I was upset. I know I hurt you really badly and I’m so, so sorry. Do you think you could ever forgive me?” Taehyung blinks. This is all happening so quickly that he doesn’t really know what to think. All he knows is that Jimin is apologizing to him. This is what he wanted, right? So then why does he feel so guilty? “It’s okay, Jimin,” Taehyung says, flashing his brother a smile. It’s a bit forced, but it’s the thought that counts. “I know you were just worried about me. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I was actually going to apologize to you for not listening to you. I should’ve listened, Jimin. I’m sorry.” Taehyung is expecting Jimin to say something else, but instead his brother pulls him into a tight hug. “You don’t have to apologize, Tae,” he insists. “This is my fault and my fault alone. You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t think like that, okay? As your older brother, I’m super protective of you and I just didn’t want you getting hurt. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, though. That was completely wrong of me.” “It’s okay, Jimin,” he says. “I don’t blame you. I know you were just worried about me, and I really appreciate it.” “So, tell me,” Jimin says. When Taehyung gives him a confused look, he elaborates, “How are things with Jackson? Good, I hope. If he does anything bad to you, I swear to god, I’ll—“ “It’s fine, hyung,” Taehyung laughs. How ironic this is. If Jimin knows about what Jackson did to him, his boyfriend would probably be a dead man. That’s just another reason why he can’t tell his family, though. That, and the shame of it all. “Jackson’s good to me. We’re just seeing how things go for now. I’m happy with him, Jimin, so you don’t need to worry.” Jimin seems unconvinced, but he nods nonetheless. It’s going to be hard to put the big brother instinct aside, but he trusts Taehyung. He’s sure that if anything was going awry in his relationship with Jackson, he would tell Jimin immediately. “Okay,” he says, choosing to believe Taehyung. “We should probably head back now. If we’re gone for too long, Dad will probably get suspicious.” “So...are we okay now?” Taehyung asks. His voice is so small and vulnerable that it reminds Jimin of when they were kids. He isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. “I thought that was obvious, Tae,” Jimin says, smiling. “Now, come on. We have a cake to finish baking.” He extends a hand for his brother to take, which he does. They head back to the kitchen and Jin gives them a weird look. “Where are the decorations?” he asks. “I thought you two were going to the attic to look for some.” Jimin looks at Taehyung and the brothers exchange a knowing glance. “We couldn’t find any,” Jimin says, which makes Taehyung laugh. Jin can tell that there is more to the story, but he doesn’t push it. He knows that Jimin and Taehyung haven’t been getting along for a few days now, but it seems like things have finally gotten better between them. At least that’s one less thing for him to worry about now. The only other thing is making sure his husband’s birthday cake is edible.

Nie Huaisang has never wanted kids, despite being an omega. A dependent, defenseless human being that literally wouldn’t survive without the help of others? That sounds like himself. How could he ever raise a kid?   There’s something about being pregnant that really makes it clear that he’s changed. No longer a child, no longer chasing justice (revenge) with tunnel vision, focused on past ignorance and futures cut short.   He’s just started showing, barely a bump to his stomach, really, and yet the urge to place his hand on his baby, protectively, lovingly, is strong . He feels like he rubs his belly at least 80% of the time he’s awake, and maybe when he’s sleeping as well. He can’t stop thinking about the life growing inside him, something good coming from him for once, maybe the only good thing he’s ever done for this world—   “Huaisang.”   Nie Huaisang pulls himself away from his thoughts, glancing up into Wei Wuxian’s knowing smile. The helpless smile he puts up in response comes naturally. “I’m sorry, Wei-xiong! I’ve been up in the clouds lately, it seems.”   Wei Wuxian shifts closer, moving blankets and pillows around them as he goes. His scent fills the air, fruity with a bit of spice, and he curls up against Nie Huaisang’s side. “First of all, call me Wuxian; aren’t we brothers already? And second of all, you can’t fool me. You’re scared, right? That you’re not good enough for this?” He places his hand next to Nie Huaisang’s, rubbing gentle circles into his stomach.   Nie Huaisang doesn’t flinch , but it’s a near thing. Since when has Wei Wuxian been good at reading him?   (Since the temple, when Wei Wuxian watched him with eyes full of disappointment, betrayal, so similar to Jiang Cheng’s eyes glaring into his own barely a week later, when he visited to talk about what he’d done, what he’d almost done—)   “Let me tell you this, as someone who’s been there: those thoughts don’t leave. But that’s okay. You want to take care of your child, yeah? Then everything’s alright. We’ll all help.” Wei Wuxian pauses before laughing. “Did you ever think that we’d be cuddling in a nest, talking about fatherhood, after everything that happened?”   Nie Huaisang sighs, letting the rest of the tension that had been lingering in his shoulders fade away, scenting lightly. He leans into the other omega’s warmth and responds, “No, honestly. But I think I might… be happy that things turned out this way.”   “You’d better. I don’t wanna have to kill you because you stomped on my brother’s heart!”   Wei Wuxian grins and nudges him annoyingly, and Nie Huaisang grins back, as if the years between them hadn’t ever strained their friendship, as if they were back in Gusu, two junior disciples with a penchant for mischief.   ——   It doesn’t matter how long Nie Huaisang has known Lan Wangji, the man is still just as insanely difficult to read. His intense stares still look like glares, his stoic expressions like disapproval.   When Lan Wangji steps into the room with a baby in each arm, however, it’s really hard to be intimidated by him. The man dips his head in greeting and sits nearby, setting his twins down to crawl around. His gaze slides down to Nie Huaisang’s belly, which has definitely grown since the last time they’ve seen each other, and he looks back up at the omega in silent question.   Well, Nie Huaisang isn’t the best at reading the guy, so he isn’t sure, ever, about Lan Wangji’s true feelings, but he thinks he’s being asked about his well-being.   “Getting pretty big, aren’t I?” He wonders how Lan Wangji will respond, hiding a mischievous smile behind his sleeve. He’s asked Jiang Cheng already, who’d looked at him with apprehension before saying that he’s beautiful. A safe answer. Lan Wangji tends to be more honest, however, and Nie Huaisang… is just a bit insecure about the weight he’s gaining.   The alpha hums in what seems like agreement. “Healthy,” he says, patting Nie Huaisang’s shoulder gently. “Good for the baby.” He frowns when Nie Huaisang does, a little confused. “What is the problem?”   “I’m fat and ugly now, that’s what the problem is!” The uncomfortable look Lan Wangji gives him at that outburst makes him want to laugh. “Sorry, I’m just teasing, don’t take it so seriously.”   Lan Wangji’s frown deepens. “Jiang Wanyin…. If you have any problems, I am here.”   Nie Huaisang does laugh at that. He knows that Lan Wangji isn’t fond of Jiang Cheng, but to think that he’s even willing to defend Nie Huaisang’s honor! Maybe it’s a good thing that he found out about the honorable Hanguang-Jun’s secret love of trashy romance novels. “No, there are no problems! Jiang Cheng is very good to me, though don’t tell him I said that,” he says, as if Lan Wangji would ever willingly speak to Jiang Cheng. With a wink, he adds, “He has to earn it.”   Very subtly, Lan Wangji shifts away, and Nie Huaisang laughs again. “The novel,” the alpha says, desperate to change the subject.   “Ah, from last time?” Nie Huaisang lets him get away with it. “Did you enjoy it? I’ve got a few more that are pretty similar, though only one is really worth the read in my opinion….”   ——   The pack room is what Nie Huaisang calls it, because receiving the others in the room he shares with Jiang Cheng, in their nest, seems a little inappropriate to him. There are times when the omega only wants the scent of his partner, only wants the feeling of his love. He knows, however, that having the rest of them stinking up the place wherever they choose to exist is… Well, there are other people that live here, after all.   So he has a room where he can receive the other members of his pack, where their somehow calming scents make him feel safe and reassured even though he definitely didn’t agree to be a part of this pack in the first place, and technically, it’s not even his, it’s Wei Wuxian’s, and he’s still grumbling about that, because who put Wei Wuxian in charge?   Anyway, the whole pack thing is the reason why he has three people about half his age loitering in his pack room, though he barely knows them, really. Nie Huaisang doesn’t mind Wei Wuxian, doesn’t mind Lan Wangji either. But this… this is just awkward.   Jin Ling kneels properly with his head held high, staring resolutely at Nie Huaisang’s stomach. It’s omega instinct, of course, coupled with Jin Ling’s very intense focus on babies, but it still makes Nie Huaisang shift uncomfortably from the attention. The two next to Jin Ling keep silent as well, clearly affected by the atmosphere.   Nie Huaisang breathes out a sigh of frustration. Curse Wei Wuxian for putting him in this situation! See if he tries to bring him back from the dead ever again!   Surprisingly, before he can say anything, Jin Ling speaks up. “I’ve had a long time to come to terms with what you did, and I understand why you did it.” He shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. “And, well, you make Uncle happy, and Senior Wei said you’re not the type to just have children, so…”   What’s with Wei Wuxian and exposing all of his secrets?   “He’s right,” Nie Huaisang says, fingers caressing his baby bump possessively. “I never wanted children. But if it’s to provide Jiang Cheng with an heir…”   Jin Ling huffs, scent leaking out as he moves closer. “Just be honest and say you love him! You’re really not as subtle as you think you are. Anyway,” he places his hand on Nie Huaisang’s stomach eagerly, ignoring his raised eyebrows, “how’s the baby? Do you know the gender yet? What names did you have in mind? Is Uncle treating you right?”   The barrage of questions only stops when one of Jin Ling’s mates, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s son, puts his hand on his omega’s shoulder. “A-Ling, let him breathe,” the beta says with a smile. “I’m sure Sect Leader Jiang treats Sect Leader Nie just fine.”   Jin Ling flushes red with embarrassment. “Okay, yeah , I know that!”   The alpha, another Lan, pipes up next to him with a grin and a pat on the head, “A-Ling just wants advice for when we have a baby of our own!” The way his face slowly falls, blood draining from his cheeks as he realizes what he’s said, makes Nie Huaisang’s day.   “Oh?” With a sweet smile, Nie Huaisang looks at his three nervous soon-to-be nephews. “You’re trying for a baby as well? That’s great news! Have you told Jiang Cheng yet? I’m sure he’d love to know.”   They all clamor to beg for his silence, and as he lounges in his nest, Nie Huaisang thinks that maybe having them in his pack won’t be so bad after all.   ——   It’s late by the time Jiang Cheng drags himself over to the bundle of blankets Nie Huaisang is tangled in, exhaustion lining the shadows of his face. He’s spent the day settling things at Yunmeng, putting someone in charge for the weeks ahead, making sure everything will run smoothly in his absence.   Nie Huaisang, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, was afraid he wouldn’t return.   “A-Cheng,” he says, and the relief in his voice is almost palpable, “you’re back.”   Jiang Cheng sinks down to the floor next to him, immediately curling into his side and nuzzling at his scent gland. “I said I would be, didn’t I?” He scents, the smell of gentle rain mixing with the omega’s own sweet honeysuckle, intertwining almost as seamlessly as their fingers do once they find each other in the dark. “What will it take to make you believe that I’m here to stay?”   The silence is enough of an answer. All things come to an end, Nie Huaisang knows, and yet he is so tired of things ending. He wants things, for once, to last forever.   Jiang Cheng deserves a happiness that lasts forever, and Nie Huaisang cannot give that. It would be only natural if Jiang Cheng leaves. Nie Huaisang wouldn’t blame him.   “Hey.” The alpha squeezes his hand, presses a kiss to his neck. “If you can’t believe it, then I’ll just say it over and over until you do.”   “Wow,” Nie Huaisang almost manages to make his voice as teasing as he wants it to be, “I didn’t know you could be so sweet.”   Jiang Cheng grunts. “Well, I was gonna say, You’re literally going to be birthing my child in a few weeks, why the fuck would I leave, dumbass , but the last time I said something like that, you cried.”   “I’m sensitive when I’m in heat! Maybe you shouldn’t call me an idiot!”   “Only an idiot would think that I would leave someone I’ve been in love with for over twenty fucking years!”   Nie Huaisang falls silent at that, panting a little at his outburst. Things like yelling and sitting up takes a lot more effort these days, so he’s resorted to sulking to get what he wants.   This time, he isn’t quite sure what he wants.   Somehow, Jiang Cheng is. Without a word, he gets up, picking Nie Huaisang up in the process, and makes his way out of the pack room and into their room. The gentle way he sits him down and removes his clothes, and then lays him in their nest and tucks him in, is almost too much for Nie Huaisang to handle.   “A-Sang,” Jiang Cheng uses a voice he knows is reserved for him only, “for most of my life, I have been yearning for you. I’m terribly selfish. How could I ever leave you when I’ve been so desperately clinging onto you?”   Nie Huaisang feels a tear roll down his face and curses his hormones. Sniffling, he tugs his alpha into the nest, wraps around him as best he can. “Thank goodness you got off your ass and confessed to me,” is what he says, because he might actually sob if any heartfelt words manages to escape his mouth.   “Says the guy who knew I was in love with him all this time and did absolutely nothing about it. At least I had the whole fear of rejection excuse.”   “I really wasn’t counting on you being that much of a coward.”   “You—!”

I looked at my watch it was still quite early but already we were waiting in the hotel lounge for Caroline and James. I took a sip of my coffee hot and sweet I needed it my head reminding me of how much I had drunk the night before. I looked over to John his mind engrossed in the charts spread out over the table the excitement on our forthcoming trip lighting up his face, he looked to me saying nothing blew me a kiss I returned his kiss and closed my eyes remembering last night, I smiled a shiver of delight ran down my spine. I was brought back to reality by John's voice "You guys must be keen." He said causing me to return to reality I opened my eyes and to see a dishevelled Caroline and James walking over to us. "We wanted to get out of that place as early as possible." Caroline replied. "We were out of there by five o'clock this morning and managed to find a nice café and had breakfast there." "Was it that bad?" I asked. "Worse." James said. "We ended up sleeping on our towels couldn't face the idea of our bodies touching the bed clothes." I felt guilty remembering our wonderful night; there's must have been hell. I turned to Caroline "Give me a hug, you're out of there now and starting now we're going to have a bloody good holiday." Caroline pulled back a little "You won't want to get too close to me, I haven't had a shower since leaving home yesterday, and the bathroom was disgusting the smell appalling I couldn't bear using it." "Caroline you poor dear," I sympathized with her the thought of not being able to shower or wash was horrifying. "John we've still got the room key haven't we?" "Yes I've not checked us out yet." John answered. "Good. You guys take our key use our room to have a shower and get sorted. Why didn't you say it was that bad last night? Somehow we could all have shared our room." "You two are so generous to us, what we would have done without you I don't know, thank you so so much." Caroline took the key giving us both a peck on the cheek. "We won't be long, fifteen minutes okay?" she asked. "Guys take your time Susie and I will have another coffee." John answered. "Thank you my darling." I said giving him a big cuddle and a kiss, I knew how eager he was to get to the boat but was still happy to wait for them. Half an hour later they both reappeared looking a lot fresher and smiling. It was the first time I had really seen Caroline smile, her whole face lit up her eyes full of life. "I feel alive for the first time since we arrived, thank you." Caroline gave me a big hug her arms gripping my waist and surprised me with a longer than expected kiss on my lips. Instinctively I returned her kiss stunned at our sudden intimacy but, strangely not offended, after all she was just a friend. James broke the spell between us "Cheers mate." He said to John. "You really have saved us, I was getting worried Caroline was going to break down. I owe you guys' big time." "It's what friends are for, have a coffee there's plenty in the pot and I'll check out then off we go." John strolled off to the reception a jump in his step. Caroline looked at me. "He's excited." "He always is around yachts, it's his biggest love." "Surely you're his biggest love?" James asked. "Sometimes I'm not sure, I think he's married to boats, I'm just his mistress for when he's on land." I winked ensuring they knew I was joking. John returned we finished our coffee and took a taxi to the marina. As we reached the marina John's excitement had rubbed off on all of us, he had given us a rough itinerary it would be very laid back sailing but I knew John would want to push the yacht. We unloaded of cases as John went into the office. We needed to buy a few extra provisions arm in arm Caroline and I went to the local shop, leaving the guys to go over the boat and stow the food and luggage. Within half an hour we returned everything we needed plus a few extra luxuries we handed them down to the guys and they helped us on board. The guys gave us a quick tour she was a beautiful white boat with a light blue stripe running down the hull it was quite new, inside there were two cabins galley and spacious salon and thankfully a separate loo and shower, I fell in love with her immediately. We left harbour under the engine but as soon as we reached open water John started teaching James on how to set the sails. The boat cut through the flat crystal clear blue sea the weather was exquisite a light sea breeze the sky a picture perfect a deep blue only occasionally interrupted by a thin stream of white cloud the sun glowing warming every part of the body. "Would you care to join me on the deck and do absolutely nothing? I asked Caroline. She smiled "Sounds perfect to me." the winds were light so we made our way forward. Caroline stripped off her shorts and top to reveal a turquoise bikini, she had a body I would kill for, a size 10 not an inch of extra fat on her, lovely long legs, trim waist probably a 34B bust, brunette shoulder length hair and eyes that matched her bikini to perfection. Caroline sat with her back to me I massaged the lotion into her skin, her body felt like satin beautiful, soft and near flawless. I finished her massage and standing up stripped off to my bikini I felt self-conscious, a hint of jealousy, wishing my body was still as flawless as hers. "My turn," Caroline said, "lay down on your front and I'll do your back." I did as instructed and Caroline rubbing the oil in her hands started to expertly massage my back. "That feels lovely," I murmured. "You've done this before." I added enjoying the luxurious sensation she was giving me. "I have some training in sports massage; I use to play football for a ladies team until I was injured now I act as the physio for the team, it's not the same as playing but I enjoy it and it does have some advantages." "Lucky ladies are all I can say." Caroline laughed, continuing the massage her practiced hands moving from my shoulder to my lower back, I jumped a little as the tips of her fingers went a little lower than expected below my bikini briefs. I moved, thinking my treatment was complete but Caroline's hand stopped me. "I haven't finished yet, if you're happy for me to continue?" "Please." I answered. Caroline then moved her position, now straddling my calfs she continued, her hands massaging the back and sides of my thighs each stroke getting a little higher until her hands reached the cheeks of my bum, the next stroke her fingers pushed at my bikini exposing more of my bum, never before had I had a massage like this, I was feeling a little uncomfortable but also enjoying the sensations she was giving me. Caroline's hands went back to my thighs now her touch now stronger her two thumbs pushing between the cleft of my closed legs. Caroline's voice woke me from my trance. "Would you like me to go further?" She asked. "No, that feels fine." I answered not really knowing what she meant. "Perhaps some other time soon." She said as she got off my legs and lay down next to me. We spent the next couple of hours chatting and getting to know each other taking in turns to replenish the drinks. Any issues we may have had about not getting on were soon dispelled; it was easy to tell by the chatting and laughing from the guys that they would soon be close friends. It was late afternoon when John informed us that as the winds were light we would not make port before dark, we had two options, enter the port after dark or find a cove out of the wind and anchor for the night. I was hoping we would make port but John had been working hard all day sailing and crewing the boat alone whilst also trying to teach James. He was looking tired he could do with a break so the decision was made to anchor in a small cove. Within half an hour a cove was found, we anchored and set the boat for the night. I opened a bottle of wine and the four of us sitting in the cockpit raised a toast to a successful day. "I fancy a swim, before we're pissed, anyone care joining me?" John asked. James nodded his head in agreement "Sounds like a fine idea to me, ladies would you care to join us?" We looked at each other and nodded both replying yes in unison. "Let's go then." John said standing up removing his shirt his hands on the waistband of his shorts preparing to remove them. "John," I shouted. "No!" Realising his actions he pulled his shorts back up though not before exposing most of his bum to us. He apologised to James and Caroline. "Sorry I didn't think, forgot we weren't alone for a second. Normally if we're alone it's easier to strip off. Saves a lot of faffing around, didn't mean to embarrass you. James laughed. "You don't need to apologise not the first naked bum we've seen, we've frequented the odd naturist beach in our time. I stepped in "Sorry about him Caroline, normally when we're alone sailing we don't worry too much about wearing anything when swimming. Hope he didn't embarrass you?" "I'm fine with nudity, please carry on, as James said we do strip of ourselves and it's us invading your holiday." I looked to Caroline. "You're not invading the holiday; this is our holiday it belongs to the four of us." John looked at James and Caroline "If you're sure?" "Yes go ahead, I presume you haven't got anything I haven't seen before?" Caroline said with a smile on her face. "If you're sure with that guys? Then let's live the dream." John answered but not waiting for a reply as he removed his shorts threw them on the deck and without turning around dived naked into the water. "When in Rome, if you're okay with that Susie?" James asked, my nod giving him the go ahead. "Thank you." With that his shirt and shorts joined John's abandoned on the deck. "Are we going to join them?" I asked Caroline. "Do you mean for a swim or stripped off?" She asked. "We're on holiday, I don't want to get this bikini wet and can't be bothered going to change." I replied. Caroline wasting no more time stripped off joining the guys in the water with me only seconds behind her. We swam around laughing and playing although we were in the water it was very clear and I did take a peek to see what James had. Caroline certainly peaked at John several times swimming very close to him. Several times I caught James watching me closely and although I'm not a natural exhibitionist I had no issues with James and Caroline seeing me naked swimming in the water, the situation felt natural and right. I swam for about ten minutes the water beautifully clear, warm and refreshing, I could have stayed in the water for hours, swimming, laughing and playing but stomachs would soon start grumbling food would be required; I now had to pay for my day of relaxation to the galley I needed to go. I climbed out and now it was me not thinking, grabbing a towel I dried my face and sat down and picked my drink up letting the sun dry my body laughing watching the high junks of John Caroline and James. The guys decided to swim to shore leaving Caroline to swim back to the boat; pulling her body out of the sea she joined me in the cockpit wrapping herself in a towel as she sat. I felt Caroline's eyes were scrutinising my body feeling a little self-conscious I grabbed the nearest towel covering my modesty from Caroline's gaze. "Hey don't cover yourself on my account, you have a pretty body, very sexy, you should show it off." Caroline winked, leaning towards me she placed her hand on my thigh, making my body jump, "soft and smooth too." She giggled, gently stroking my thigh before removing her hand. I looked at Caroline, there was something about her, something I couldn't decipher. I had had the same thought at the airport and dismissed it but the thought had returned. "What dark secrets do you told?" I asked myself. We finished dinner, between Caroline and me we had cooked paella adding the few muscles the guys had brought back with them. I stacked the plates and John took them down to the galley returning with another bottle of wine, we had probably drunk too much already though no one refused John's offer of a refill. I felt contentment, resting my head on John's shoulder I looked around the night was dark, a moonless night broken only by the masthead light throwing shadows over the yacht, momentarily conversation went quiet, leaving only the sound of the sea quietly slapping the hull of the yacht. Eventually James broke the silence. "I know you guys are naturist lovers but have you ever tried sailing naked?" John looked at me I looked back and shrugged my shoulders and John answered James's question. "Actually we normally spend most of the time naked when we're out here sailing with no one else around: it's a feeling of freedom, free from all restraints only the wind moving the boat the sun on our bodies, it feels so natural the way it should be." Caroline whispered in my ear. "What else do you get up to when you're alone out here?" I giggled a drunken giggle I knew exactly what Caroline meant; normally I would have been reserved in my answer but the wine had taken its toll loosening my tongue. I whispered to her ear. "Making love on the deck at midnight, you can't beat it. You must try it; we'll set up a rota taking turns." "That sounds like heaven." She replied. "Who's first on the rota?" I winked at her "I believe your name is on the top of the list." I left it a few minutes and yawned. "John I'm tired and feeling a little drunk, let's have an early night?" "I'm fine if you want to turn in." I stared at him; he knew he had given the wrong answer. "Actually it's not a bad idea; we'll leave you guys to it if that's okay." "Sure." Said James with a slight smile; Caroline had obviously told him about our rota. Kisses and goodnights were exchanged and we retired to our cabin. We had been in bed for only a few minutes past before we could hear them moving and stumbling and laughing on deck. I smiled, I knew what was happening and let John in on the secret of the rota. Caroline and James settled down on the deck directly above our cabin. The soundproofing isn't great on these boats we couldn't see them though by the sounds they were making they were certainly enjoying each other. John stood up pushing his ear to the roof to listen to James and Caroline. "Don't be nosy." I shouted to him in a whisper, slapping his thigh in chastisement but losing my own battle not to join him. I listened, whispering we were trying to interpret their sounds, John mimed Caroline giving James a blowjob, and I burst out with laughter having to fall on the bed using a pillow to stifle my laugh. I regained my poise looking up from the bed I could see John was getting turned on, my hand went to his semi erect cock gently I started to stroke him. I started to fondle my tits through my night shirt the feeling of John's cock getting harder in my hand having an effect on me. I sat up from the bed taking John's cock to my mouth imitating Caroline's actions with James, John let out a quiet moan his hand pushing on my head wanting me to take his cock deeper. I gagged as it hit the back of my throat my fingernails digging into his arse making him push his cock deeper. My hand reached between my legs, my pussy already wet I ran my finger down my pussy before my juice covered finger found my waiting clitoris, rubbing it in rhythm with the fondling of my tits and John's cock. John pulled out his cock and whispered to me. "Let's take a look." I should have said no, already we were invading their privacy but I was intrigued, I had never watched two people making love before. We crept quietly out of our cabin and out to the cockpit, carefully we looked over the top of the glass windshield hoping we wouldn't be seen. I gasped at the sight, both of them lit up by the masthead light, James had removed his shorts and was lying on his back with Caroline astride James leaning slightly forward and riding his cock hard, her naked back shinning in the light her dress crumpled at her waist. John stood behind me I could feel his hard cock pushing against my naked arse. Positioning myself careful I reached behind myself and took his cock guiding it to my pussy. John knew what to do I gasped with delight as he eased his cock deep in my pussy the tip brushing the front of my pussy and find my G-spot. I wanted to scream only John's hand in front of my mouth stopping me, I had to be quiet I didn't want Caroline and James to know we were watching but I also wanted to scream to the world. Slowly he fucked me from behind his hands tightly he gripped my hips, with one hand I supported us both, the other fondling my clit as John plunged deeper inside me, both of us watching and enjoying the sight of James and Caroline fucking. This was a new experience for me and I was enjoying it. John moved his arm around my waist his other hand slipping up my night shirt finding, caressing, playing with my tits my hardened nipples enjoy the attention he was giving them. I had a sudden urge to be with James and Caroline, lying next to them as John fucked me, as James fucked Caroline for them to be watching us enjoying the same pleasures they were bestowing on us. I wanted them to look up, to see us, to invite us to join them. I wanted to shout, scream, and call to the world around us. I was in paradise, a new paradise, a paradise I never wanted to leave. I controlled my urge to shout; I watched and listened to them intently as John's fucked me. By the light of the moon I could see James's fucking Caroline his hands gripping her hips as John had gripped mine pulling her harder down onto his cock. Caroline was calling, demanding. "Fuck me James, yes fuck me, harder, fuck my wet cunt, fuck my brains fuck my cunt harder." I couldn't imagine Caroline would use that language but she was. Her voice lowered though I could still hear what she was saying. "Think of you fucking Susie's tight cunt, I know you want to, and you want to watch John fucking my cunt, using me as his slut." I was shocked by what she was saying, but strangely turned on hearing it. Did she really mean it? Surely it was just a fantasy to turn him on? Said in the heat of the moment? Right now I didn't care, he could fuck me. I rubbed my clit harder as John fucked me, abusing my nipples, my tits my whole body. I felt John's body stiffen his cock grow harder I knew he was close to coming, he pressed deeper inside me, furiously I rubbed my clit, I wanted to come with him for us to come together, for us all to come together. A small wave ran through my body, followed by more, each a little stronger than the last. John pushed hard into me and I felt his cock explode as a larger wave of my orgasm ran through me I could feel my pussy filling with John's sperm, a second and third time he shot more inside me as my orgasm reached its summit exploding my every sense in ecstasy. I slumped forward a little trying to regain my composure, John's cock now spent slowly slipped out of me, a cocktail of sexual juices drawing down my thigh, his arms still around me, holding me, and loving me. With James and Caroline still locked to each other we moved away silently not wanting to disturb them or be seen. Retreated to our cabin we collapsed on the bed still catching our breath regaining our control now oblivious to James and Caroline above us. John pulled the sheet over us, holding me tightly I could hear movement from above; Caroline and James had reached their crescendo. I lay there quietly in the bed feeling only the beat of John's heart as he fell into a sleep, I thought of tonight's events, it was exciting, different, something new, though I felt guilt, we had no right to invade their privacy. How would I feel if they had done the same to us? I wasn't sure, before tonight I would have been upset, annoyed, betrayed. Did I still feel like that? Strangely I didn't know. I wondered what tomorrow will bring. I heard the sound of their cabin door shut, it was silent only the familiar sound of the water against the hull and the gentle rocking from the swell. I looked up to the darkness of the cabin; one last thought entered my head before sleep. "What did Caroline mean about swapping partners? Was it just a fantasy? Or a reality?" I closed my eyes, the night taking me to my dreams, my answer not discovered.

taetae Today 7:27 AM jimin:left some breakfast in the fridge for you when you wake up <3         jungkook :) Today 7:29 AM jimin:good morning jungkook jimin:hope i get to see you today :) jungkook:morning hyung jungkook:me too jimin:oh i didnt expect you to be awake this early lol jungkook:i just woke up jimin:aww cute jimin:im on my way to the studio jimin:about to get on the bus jungkook:will you still be able to do lunch today? jimin:i think so jimin:come by the studio around 12? jungkook:i'll be there :) jimin:see you then :)         jungkook :) Today 11:54 AM jungkook:hey just got here jungkook:whenever you're free jimin:give me like, 10 more minutes? and i'll be outside jungkook:ok :)         jungkook :) Today 12:35 PM jimin:sorry lunch had to be so short jimin:but thank you for coming jimin:im really glad i got to see you jungkook:i'm glad i got to see you too :) jungkook:text me tonight when you get home? jimin:i will jungkook::)         taetae Today 9:15 AM taehyung:ty bb <3 Today 12:37 PM jimin:tae i like him a lot :( taehyung:i kno chim jimin:also im definitely coming to the thing this weekend jimin:i'll make time for it taehyung:!!! good! taehyung:cant wait :)         jungkook :) Today 8:43 PM jimin:hey, i just got home jimin:free to talk? jungkook:earlier than yesterday jungkook:and for you, always jimin:cheesy jimin:i have another early day tomorrow but i wanted to get home in time to talk to you jimin:waiting until i was that exhausted yesterday was not the smartest thing ive done jungkook:im glad you made time for me jimin:i want to make time for you jungkook::) jungkook:you still want to talk about stuff from yesterday? jimin:yeah, i do jungkook:ok, cool jungkook:is it ok if i go first? jungkook:ive been thinking about what i want to say all day jimin:yeah of course jungkook:ok jungkook:so ive mentioned that this is kind of new to me jungkook:like, i've been with people but only before i transitioned. and that kind of changed a lot of things about my body jungkook:and i've been nervous about how things are going to progress since i didnt tell you from the start jungkook:and i appreciate that you've been respectful so far and i trust you and i like you a lot jungkook:and im glad you wanted to talk too because i want to go further with you but i want to talk about boundaries first jungkook:ok that's everything jungkook:i know the boundaries i wanna talk about too but if you wanna say something before we start talking about then. um. idk go ahead jimin:thank you for trusting me jungkook jimin:i was worried before because jimin:well like i said i usually just rush into stuff and there's not a lot of talking jimin:and ive never been with a trans guy before so i didnt know what to do or what to expect and i was kind of nervous jimin:but i was looking up stuff online and it seemed like jimin:idk there's a lot to talk about and i didnt want to use the wrong words or say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing with you jimin:i just want you to be comfortable with me jimin:so whatever boundaries you have is fine, i dont want to do anything you dont want jungkook:thank you jungkook:and i mean same to you? if you have anything you dont want to do jimin:lol i'm pretty open jungkook:oh jungkook:ok jimin:im down to try whatever and if something comes up i'll say something jimin:but what are some of the boundaries you wanted to talk about? jungkook:well you know the biggest one, im not really ok with like. any penetration jungkook:and like, touching anywhere else is mostly fine, but on my chest it's kind of jungkook:i have scars there and im kind of uncomfortable with them so jungkook:touching is fine but not like, lingering? if that makes sense jimin:yeah it does jungkook:also i mentioned before im fine with saying clit or like calling it a dick or whatever, it doesnt matter to me but i'd rather not talk about anything else no matter what words are used jimin:i kinda got that feeling from our phone calls, but it's good to know. thanks jimin:and you said touching anywhere else is mostly fine. why not totally fine? i don't want to do somethign wrong jungkook:like below the waist, sometimes it's okay but other times i need to work up to it jungkook:sometimes i just dont want to be touched at all jungkook:so i guess it's just, go slow jimin:ok. i'll check with you first jungkook:thanks jimin:i guess it sounds like you're mostly okay with like, what we've sexted or called about? like handjobs or oral but not fucking jungkook:i mean, yeah im cool with those things, and i dont want to be the one getting fucked jungkook:but um jungkook:for the record jungkook:what you said yesterday isn't true jimin:what did i say? jungkook:that i can't fuck you jungkook:i have straps jungkook:like, multiple different dicks to choose from jungkook:if that's something you're into jimin:oh. i never thought about that jungkook:does that mean you are into it? jungkook:because i do have a lot and i can get more if you want jungkook:i have like normal ones but i also have a tentacle one that i've always wanted to use on someone jimin:you have a tentacle dick jungkook:yeah jungkook:what's the point of having a detachable dick if i can't have an exciting one jimin:oh my god jungkook jimin:i think i love you jungkook:oh jimin:wait jimin:i didnt mean to say that, i had a plan, it just slipped out jungkook:oh jimin:was it too soon? jimin:please just ignore me until i find a better way to tell you in person jungkook:i just wasnt expecting it jimin:me neither jimin:can we go back to talking about you fucking me because that conversation was much easier jungkook:we can ;) jungkook:i can call if you want too jungkook:just wish you weren't so busy this week so we could do more than just talk about it jimin:me too :( jimin:but it'll be something to look forward to right? jimin:you'd better call me though jimin:preferably now jungkook:ok give me a minute to wash my face and brush my teeth jimin:im waiting :( jungkook:talk to you soon :)

“Your strikes lack discipline. You are merely tapping them with your hands.” A low, gravely women’s voice hissed within the halls. “If you are to triumph in the coming battles, you must hit with intent!” The hall here was largely the same as the other areas held by the Church of New Darkness, ornate, with the columns and walls adorned with the snarling visages and face of the Klyntar upon them, the surrounding parts of the buildings resembling the flowing, shimmering form of the Symbiotes themselves, giving even this training area a strangely organic, surrealist look to it. Within the halls were numerous young ones, some no younger then ten, some as old Izuku and his classmates, a few a little older. They were position in front of punching bags, targets and other things, most dressed in practical training outfits, black and red, as the figure approached down from the platform overlooking it all, her feet carefully stepping down and hitting each step as she made her way down. Her toes were not the normal human ones, rather being cruel, curved black claws, attached to dark green scales, the first toe of each a large, wicked blade, twitching slightly with every step. The rest of this stranger was hidden under the heavy black cloak of the other Church members, shimmering with the star-like pattern against the inky blackness, her hands carefully hidden within the long sleeves. She made her way down, claws clicking against the cold, hard floors. She pulled her hood back, revealing a scaled face the same as her toe claws, dark green, and serpentine, her face broad, and neck long and thin, reptilian yellow eyes flickering from one student to the other. “Your strikes are with the arms, not the core!” She hissed, gesturing to her abdomen with a clawed hand. “Your arms can be weak, the core supplies the power, throwing your whole strength into it.” Above, on the platform, overlooking this, was Kitab and one of the other Prophets, the strangely tall and lanky Charles Whately, and a figure dressed simpler, in a heavy set of brown robes and hood. “The training of our Adepts is welcome, Brother, but why call us here so out of the blue?” Charles asked, as Kitab merely watched, engrossed in the show. “Is this because of the Heroes, the Izuku Midoriya, correct? He is among them?” “Matron Kibotsume’s scouts have tracked them, and report they have been a training program reserved for their second and third years.” The Serpent-like being reported, before looking back at the younger members of the Church. “She has taken to training our youngest Pack members harder as well.” Kitab looked up slowly, his face half hidden in the shadows of his cloak, his visible eye narrowed. “They have already begun?” “Yes, Supreme Prophet.” The Serpent responded, bowing his head slightly. He seemed deep in thought, nodding slightly to himself, as though conversing in private with Zzzxx as the two waited, before turning back. “This is an unexpected move for Aizawa. It’s too aggressive.” “You see why our training for our young hatchlings has intensified?” The Snake-Human asked, with another slightly bow of the head. “The next move, sir?” “Your scouts, tell them to be mindful, cautious. If they are caught, let the heroes make the first move.” Kitab ordered, pointing a crocked finger at the Raptor. “The rest of your Clan, continue your operations in private. Remember, we remain hidden in the shadows until the right moment.” “As you wish, Supreme Prophet.” The Serpent member replied, bowing to both, deeper then before, and leaving silently. Whately turned to Kitab, as the being left, lowering himself slightly. “Kitab, I am worried, are our Prophecies accelerating too quickly? Tomura, Knull’s Hand, I don’t think is...” “Tomura is not even there, and his gang of allies will survive, trouble yourself no longer.” The Supreme Prophet said, shaking his head. “We both know a full confrontation is not due for many months. We have time. Let Shigaraki and his League sharpen their teeth, as Izuku and his class furthers their power. Our visions are never wrong.” “But they can mislead. How disasters almost ruined us before we could reach this day?” Charles questioned. “Our allies in The Scale Clan are readying us. Our Quirks are strong, our faith stronger.” Kitab declared, shaking his head to the tall man. “We watch and observe. Our part has yet to come.” “If you are certain, Supreme Prophet.” Charles replied. Kitab nodded with a satisfied smile upon his face. “Yes, everything is proceeding as we have foreseen.”\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Class-1B had been dragged from their sleep early in the morning. It wasn’t like they had much choice afterall, and had to follow their teacher, the red and black clothed Vlad King. He lead them along, his thunderous steps leading them along like a thundering drum to set the tone, as the students staggered along. “We’re improving the Quirks themselves this morning!” Vlad King declared to his class, focused ahead. “Class A has already started.” Vlad King grunted to himself, bringing a hand to his chin, as he began to think aloud to himself. “This Semester was Class A’s time to shine, but Second Semester will all in favor of Class B!” All of Class B looked disappointed and disheartened with themselves, but Tetsutetsu felt tears run down his face, holding up a fist in despair. “We’re sorry teacher, we won’t disappoint you going forward.” Vlad thought it odd to say for a student, but energy and hormones made kids pumped up and crazy to please their teachers and all. Setsuna took a deep breath, trying to focus through the fog of grogginess over her head. “What do you mean by ‘Strengthen your Quirks?’ exactly?” “You work a muscle, the fibers snap, and then reknit themselves thicker and stronger.” Vlad King explained carefully, taking his time so each student could understand. “A Quirk is the same way. By working your body, we force the Quirk to strengthen itself at a faster rate.” Bakugou’s scream probably would’ve interrupted any further words exchanged, as he unleashed an explosion from the cold water he was dunking his hands into, before unleashing a powerful blast into the skies right after. Mineta was on the ground yanking off ball after ball from his hair, blood running down his scalp, as Momo and Seto jammed as much cake and treats in their mouths to fuel their Quirks. Iida ran along the perimeter, the engines in his legs burning white hot, as Sero and Denki screamed, one hooked to a car battery as electricity ran through his body, and the other set tape in a never ending stream down the side of a mountain. “This looks like hell.” One of Class B muttered as he watched the scene in horror, the others silently agreeing in ramp shock. “Normally, your bodies would adapt as you grow and fight, but we can’t wait that long.” Vlad interjected, trying to get his students’ minds off the scene before them. It wasn’t much, but he alteast wanted them to have a positive attitude going forward. “We’ll be watching and advising Class B. Get to it.” Aizawa added with his usual deadpan delivery. “The two of you, to, what, 40 of us?” Kendo asked, trying to guess just how many students there were through the early morning fog. “A logical response. So that’s why these four heroes have agree to help us.” Aizawa replied with a knowing nod, before turning to the four behind him. The four eagerly took up their poses and shouted out their catch phrases, the one of the newcomers, Rag-Doll, looked largely like she belonged in the group of female super heroes who relied on a cat theme to their gear and equipment, and despite her almost childish facial expressions, obviously was a great hero if she was in this group. The one behind them, however, was completely at odds with the rest. A massive titan of a man, as tall and as ruggedly built as All Might or Endeavor, and at odds with the cutesy skirt and vest outfit near identical to his female counterparts, despite his stature and musculature. Izuku had heard the Pussycats wore all identical outfits, with some color variance, but he was still thrown out by the sight of a grown, burly man strong enough to bend iron with his bare hands would dress like that. Venom didn’t flinch at the sight however. He had seen plenty of strange dress styles of his various host species, Shi’ar, Ssi-Ruuk, Turian and a countless other number of species across the universe. How people dressed was irrelevant to him, only their strength and usefulness to his host and himself. What made Izuku and Venom fearful of the man, was when Aizawa assigned them to Tiger’s training regime. It didn’t seem like much a problem at first, though Aizawa had whispered something in the larger man’s ear before the start, until they got to working. Izuku’s endurance and all was above most others, even if his training was limited compared to Shoto’s Spartan-like method, or Bakugou’s pushing himself in everything for the sake of pushing, but Tiger would not accept that lightly. As the Pussycats explained each of their Quirks and how they would function, Tiger was the last to explaine his. “You students with strength and related enhancement Quirks will be with me.” As Izuku was put through the intense stretches, muscle exercises and other workouts, he, at the same time, was using Venom to lash out with his tentacles and grab random objects scattered around in the trees, with the idea of pushing Venom’s “Quirk” abilities by forcing him to extend his range even further. Venom did share that his tendrils could, when “Hidden” within his host, could extend his tentacles out for several feet, even yards away from himself. However, Izuku was working over time, and not wanting to push their body any further already, decided to simply play along and pretend this was really overextending his powers. As his tentacles lashed out and hit the targets hanging from the trees, Tiger marched back over to them, looming over Izuku, his eyes glaring down intensely. “Now, you little Hero wannabe, come at me!” Izuku snapped to ready position, Venom instantly coating his fist as he lash out with a battle cry, eager to impress. Tiger’s body merely bent and twisted around the fist, before aiming a perfect right hook into Izuku’s face, knocking him to the dirt. “Pathetic! Those muscles haven’t been ripped up hard enough! And that goo isn’t tired out yet either! Keep working!” “Yes sir!” Izuku managed through the pain, struggling to get to his knees, before Venom spoke in his mind, sounding as excited as a puppy. “This is good training, I’m almost feeling it!” “I can’t hear you!” Tiger barked out once more. “Yes sir!!” Izuku yelled louder, getting to his feet, Venom giving yet more unhelpful advice. “Give me enough time, and I’ll land a punch on him!” ‘That’s...not the point.’ Izuku thought with a heavy breath in, as Tiger stood over him, holding a fist before him. “Your motto is Plus Ultra, show it to me!” He declared. “Come on Izuku, this is fun!” Venom hissed with delight, as Izuku grunted. ‘For you maybe.’ Izuku didn’t really think this would help him much. They thought Venom was his Quirk, all fine and good, but he wasn’t sure Quirk training would help much. Venom had millions of years of experience with fighting and harnessing his abilities to their fullest. Izuku wasn’t exactly sure what this training would accomplish. “Think Deku, I’ve stayed with you, even if you are a loser. You’ve got the heart, and body, to be a great hero.” Venom whispered to him. “All you need to to prove it, earn it.” Izuku nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead, as he stood up once more, roaring to the skies, determined as ever. Tiger grinned at the display, gesturing for him to keep going, and keep pushing himself, as the automated targets re-positioned and moved all around him once more. Aizawa watched Izuku continue his training. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure how to do most of the stuff with Venom. For one, he had used his Ersaure twice throughout the year on Izuku when he was unaware, and both times nothing had happened. Venom had still remained active. Much of this was formality. If Venom wasn’t a Quirk, he wasn’t sure how Quirk-Strengthening exercises could improve anything, but Izuku needed to be trained just like everyone else while he was here. Back at UA, he had discussed his plans with Nezu, leaning against the wall of his office, looking off into the distance out the window. “I still don’t know what to make of this kid.” “If it’s not Quirk, what could it be?” Nezu asked, filling through the paperwork of the school, mostly setting things up for the Summer training camp for Aizawa. “That’s what I wanted to ask you. I’ve never heard of anyone developing an ability without a Quirk.” Aizawa said in disbelief, still unable to truly come to terms with the idea, even as he said it aloud. Nezu put down the papers and thought over it carefully, tapping his paw against the table for a moment. “The hero Godzillo took an interest in him early on, and his DNA tends to get used to create all sorts of strange new creatures.” “It’s what I thought, but those still have Quirks, based on Toho, and mutated, but Quirks all the same.” Aizawa remarked, rubbing his chin in thought. “This could be anything.” “I’d wager a bio-weapon of some kind. Izuku could’ve found the thing in a lab accident of some kind, and he doesn’t want to reveal the truth.” Nezu wagered. “Hence, the Men in Black showing up.” Aizawa nodded slightly, partially accepting the idea, but it just seemed so strange to him. Nezu seemed to sense his dissatisfaction, and to be fair, was only going off a guess at this point. “You have full control over the class, would you like to transfer him or…?” “No.” Aizawa said quickly and resolutely. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I want to watch him. I think he can still be a Hero, as long as he keeps Venom from eating anyone.” “What if he turns out to be Jet Black, then?” Nezu asked pointedly. They both knew what that would mean. Turning him in. “I’ll ask him when I get the chance.” Aizawa replied simply, his expression cold and distant, making the whole thing even more cryptic. Nezu simply shrugged, as he returned to his work. As always, he hoped Aizawa would stick to the rules, if not the letter, then the spirit of them, and not do anything to rash. Back in the present, at the Camp, Aizawa merely watched the students continue to work, partially hoping Bakugou would throw out his voice from how much he kept screaming at the top of his lungs. He had to give him one thing, when Katsuki set his mind to something, he completed it with 100% of his energy, and all the bloodlust he could manage. He carefully jogged a few steps forward, allowing Iida to pass by in his laps, as he watched the others at work. It was at 4:00 when they finally finished their training workout. Even Izuku, with Venom enhancing his body and endurance, was run ragged by the whole thing, and just about everyone had stumbled their way in, bruised and battered all over, and barely able to stay on their feet. The darkened skies and high moon was a clear and present reminder of how long they had been at their grueling work. Pixie-Bob and Rag-doll merely laughed lightly at their predicament. “Like we said yesterday, your pampering ends from here on out.” “If you’re gonna eat, you gotta make it yourself! Today’s ingredients are curry!” Rag-Doll said, her face beaming in a broad smile. “Yes ma’am.” The Trainees intoned, as Venom zeroed in on the ingredients, ignore to start making food, even if said food wasn’t living meat like he preferred. Rag-doll giggled loudly to herself, buzzing along excitedly, like nothing could contain her. “You all look like you’re ready to drop. That’s why this meal’s gonna be special.” “Hmm, of course, that makes sense! As heroes, we have to win the hearts and minds of people in need and who will be traumatized!” Iida said aloud, before turning to the two classes. “1A, 1B! Let’s pour our resources together into making the greatest curry for our school!” Everyone cheered, more likely at the prospect of getting food then actually having a teachable moment, but it worked all the same. Aizawa breathed a small sigh of relief. ‘Iida helps makes somethings a lot easier.’ As such, it did not take long for both classes to pool their resources and remaining energy together to whip together the curry, or whatever their ingredients produced. As long as they could eat it without getting sick, most of the students would be fine with whatever came out. As the others prepared the pots to boil the ingredients, Deku was dividing up said ingredients so they would be perfectly prepared and balanced for cooking, as the others started fires under said pots. “Bakugou, you can’t start fires with your explosions.” Sero muttered, watching him desperately fire off explosion after explosion under the pot, and only burning the underside of the pot severely. “Just watch me damn it!!” “Todoroki can we get some fire over here?” Mina asked, pointing to the pots in front of her, as she carefully handled the meat with the tongs. “Guys, you can’t rely on him for everything. You’ll never learn to start a fire yourself.” Momo admonished as she produced a Torch lighter from her wrist. Jioru gave an unbelieving look for a moment, looking to the other classmates for a moment, as Momo started the fire. Todoroki approached with his left hand outwards, shrugging slightly. “No, no, it’s fine.” Tongues of fire lightly danced off his finger tips and palm, starting an easy but strong flame, as Ochako danced up and down excitedly. “Burn, burn, burn!” Mina chanted in excitement, pumping her fists in rhythm. “Burn it all!” “No good if it’s all burned.” Shoto replied calmly, as Deku carefully poured everything into the pots. Tokoyami watched closely, as Izuku prepared everything, slightly astonished by the whole thing. “You’re surprisingly adept at preparing food, Midoriya.” “Yeah, part of having Venom, because he enhances my body, I have a higher metabolism.” Izuku explained with a shrug, with the practiced precision of having to explain in the past why he could pack in so much food. “I learned to be a good cook. That and mom was always at work, so I had to be self sufficient.” “A heightened metabolism, hmmm?” Tokoyami remarked, as Izuku poured it in. “I guess all Quirks have their upsides and downsides.” “Right.” Izuku said, as Venom chanted hungrily within his mind, almost never stopping his demand for food as the he prepared the last of the expertly made pots for food. “Hungry! Hungry!” ‘Yeah, I know, give it time.’ Izuku ordered nervously. He knew how Venom would act if he didn’t get the food he needed. He didn’t want him going wild, with his classmates. “Relax, I like flesh, but I’ve held off since you insisted on chocolate.” Venom remarked with a dark chuckle. “Unless you count the USJ Nomu, I haven’t touched a pinch of human flesh. I can wait.” Midoriya nodded for a moment, before pouring the last bit into the last pot, and standing back to look over his work for a moment, satisfied. ‘I get it Venom. I’m just scared of the Agency finding us, and anyone here getting hurt.’ “I have always tried to protect the innocent, ever since we bonded.” Venom replied softly. “It’s been a dream of mine since I first spawned.” Izuku was surprised. Everything he had said had lead him to believe Venom had always been a soldier within his Empire, a mere grunt who looked to inflict pain on those that got in his way. Going after criminals was just a way to ameliorate Izuku’s conscious when he attacked others. It caused a million questions to go through his mind for a moment, but Izuku decided not to ask. It felt like prying, trying to get at Venom’s past, first with his past dreams, and then with this “grandchild” of his, this ‘Toxin’. That alone caused a lot of questions too. Venom seemed wistful, almost nostalgic for his offspring. Venom talked about children and parents at odds, destroying each other for power and strength. How much of this was his actual beliefs then?\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Izuku would chew over these questions later, the meal readied and cooked to perfection under his (and Venom’s) careful tending and prepared at the moment of perfection. Even with Izuku’s help, this wasn’t five star quality, but it was delicious, especially to a class that hadn’t eaten anything in several hours. Table manners were second to greedily scarfing it down with gusto, and Yaomomo, the usual epitome of Lady-like manners, was shoveling in curry as fast as she could. “Man, Momo, you and Midoriya can pack it away like nothing.” Sero remarked through his own meal. “It’s all about the lipids in food that I convert to create new objects.” She explained calmly, in between mouthfuls of food. “I just get big and punch things hard.” Izuku explained simply, again, practiced in the art of playing Venom off as his Quirk. It was after going for his third and final plate, while everyone had satisfied themselves on two, that Izuku noticed Kota walking off into the night on his own, making sure none of the adults noticed as he vanished into the night. Izuku, however, would not be so easily alluded, and carefully followed him, keeping a fair amount of distance and staying quiet. Venom growled in agitation. “Must we get involved?” “He needs help, obviously we have to help.” Izuku replied softly, as he began to make his way up one of the smaller mountains in the middle of the forest, not far from the central encampment. “Losing parents, I don’t know exactly what that’s like, mine was evil and rotted to the core,” Venom remarked, as they followed him up. “But I do know that losing Toxin hurt. It still hurts. I would not want a stranger poking around in my past to try and make things better.” Izuku was silent for a moment, not used to the Symbiote sharing such an emotional side to itself, as Venom made a sighing sound. “Step carefully. Help if you want. I’m just here for the ride.” Izuku continued upwards, carefully following behind his footprints, making his way up the mountain to the very top. The place was high above the trees, but just low enough to be safe. Because of this vantage point, Izuku could see out across the trees and beautiful landscapes as far as the eye could see. Above, the stars twinkled in the sky above like white and blue jewels, the moon not quite full, but casting a stunning, lambent white glow upon everything. A loud grumble sounded from the plateau, as Izuku stepped upwards, spotting Kota glaring out over the landscape, his mind seemingly elsewhere. He cleared his throat first to announce his pressence, before speaking. “Hey uh, you seem kinda hungry still.” Izuku said awkwardly. “I usually go for thirds, Quirk and all, but I saved you a plate.” “What are you doing here!? I don’t need your charity!” Kota yelled, springing to his feet in anger. “Sorry, I followed your foot prints here and all, Ven’s real good at following people.” Izuku explained, as Venom rumbled within his chest, not liking this one bit. “You haven’t eaten anything, so I figured...” “I’m fine, just scram. This is my secret base!” Kota interjected, narrowing his eyes angrily. Izuku lingered for a moment, contemplating whether to leave, or to continue, before swallowing heavily. “Your parents, were the two heroes, the Water Hoses right?” Kota turned, clenching his small fists like he was ready to fight Izuku right there. “Did Mandalay tell you?!” “No, I figured it out.” Izuku replied calmly, as Venom hissed into his ear. “Tread. Carefully.” “It was a real tragedy.” Izuku continued, his voice low and quiet. “It was all over the country.” “Screw you.” Kota mumbled angrily. Suddenly, without warning, Venom overtook Izuku’s body, before the host could even protest to his Other, as Kota turned slightly, looking slightly surprised and fearful for a moment, before Venom spoke, his voice a low boom, like thunder in the distance. “I...you’ll have to forgive my host. He’s quite stupid for a smart person sometimes.” “Whatever.” Kota muttered again, shaking his head as he sat down, pulling his knees to his chest, before glaring at Venom. “You’re all real stupid. Stretching and pushing your Quirks. It’s all gross and stupid.” “Understandable, I don’t much care for the training much either, to be honest.” Venom remarked, as he approached, laying the plate of food a few feet behind Kota. “May we sit and watch the stars. We rarely get to see them, and we’ll only have a few minutes.” “Do whatever you want.” Kota remarked. He didn’t care for this weird Quirk Izuku had, but at least it had the sense to not want to talk. Venom sat by, looking over the landscapes and night skies before him. He found it easy to forget that this world was not so ugly, being stuck in the big cities. He found them disagreeable, mostly because the Imperium was more lassie-fare about things. Since every Symbiote knew where their kin where at all times, they could be called from anywhere at the moment they would be needed, and be there in the time they were needed. The fact humans needed to be packed in for even their jobs reminded Venom how very lonely it could be to be a human. After several minutes in silence, in which Kota seemed to calm down, if only slightly, Venom stood from his position, taking a deep breath through his knife-like fangs, before turning to Kota. “I can’t share too much, but I am not exactly a Quirk. I’m not a normal power to this world.” Kota looked at him in confusion and agitation. “Then why the heck are you in Quirk training. You’re just talking crap.” “Consider it a cover.” Venom remarked with a small shrug. “I don’t think my host knows what it’s like to lose family, but I do, let’s just say that the pain is like a dagger in your heart and mind. Being able to find some place quiet and get away from everyone’s empty platitudes is the best reprieve.” “Whatever, just scram, alright?” Kota remarked quietly, his voice filled with poison. “Crazy freaking Quirk.” “Apologies. We’ll leave you to your Secret Base, and tell no one.” Venom replied with a nod, turning and bound off into the forest. He left Kota with the meal of Curry, and on the other side of the rocks, the shattered cliff face, still wet from someone smashing water into it. Venom was quick to move and get back to camp, and even his senses could not detect Aizawa hanging from the closest training, listening in to both of their conversations, his baggy eyes narrowed. He himself would have to return soon to see to the Remedial class, and Mineta. But this confirmed at least one thing to him that he long had guessed at. “Not exactly a Quirk?” Aizawa muttered with narrowed eyes, tapping his finger on the tree branch he perched upon. “Midoriya, what have you gotten into?”\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Back in the city, all was mostly quiet in the small diner in Hosu, no one really caring about the strangely dressed man stepping in, his long white coat billowing behind him, his orange-red eyes scanning the area before him, before settling on the emaciated, pale skeletal man seated in one corner, reading a Newspaper and sipping some coffee, but eating nothing. That was Toshinori, All Might’s agent. Godzillo moved with the sheer-footed, steel-focus of a predator, standing over the table for a moment patiently. “Ah, Mister Nakajima, good to see you.” Toshinori remarked, folding and putting away his paper, and standing up to shake his hand, the Monster Hero taking it carefully, worried he might break the man’s hand. “I was hoping we’d discuss Midoriya.” “Good to be seen.” He remarked, carefully folding his overcoat behind him and sitting down, the table groaning slightly. “So, what is it you want to know about?” “Where to start? What was he like when you worked with Izuku, what are his strengths, his weaknesses?” Toshinori asked, as the waitress refilled his coffee, and Nakajima placed a quick order of his own. He considered Toshinori’s questions carefully, trying to pick the best answer going forward. “He’s… a little timid and over-zealous at the same time. He often overthinks and hesitates. Venom is aggressive and fiery. Almost uncontrolled, but the two are strongest together.” “You almost talk about them like they’re two separate people.” Toshinori remarked to himself. “But what about his Hero work with you, did he listen, how was he with people?” “Heh. He went off on his own and disobeyed orders to save people in Hosu.” Nakajima remarked with a small smile. “Don’t let this leak, but it wasn’t Endeavor and me who stopped Stain. Those claws and burns were from Midoriya and his pals.” “I see.” Toshinori remarked with a small, nervous smile. “He’s more heart then brain sometimes.” Nakajima remarked finally, as the waitress brought his coffee, and without adding any creamers, immediately began drinking it. “I feel like if All Might wants him as a student, they’ll pair well together.” He smiled for a moment, before taking another sip, and looking back at Toshinori. “Why is All Might focused on him? All the kids got potential? Why just Midoriya?” “The fight with the Nomu, and I guess the Hosu incident got All Might’s attention,” Toshinori explained coolly, practiced in referring to his Hero name as a different person entirely. “He wants to take him as a student and maybe successor.” “Successor?” Nakajima asked, tapping fingertips on the table. “I guess All Might’s gonna have to retire someday. Midoriya will probably ready be then, I guess.” “Indeed.” Yagi replied with a nod, scratching the back of his neck nervously. The two continued their discussion for much of the night, both about Midoirya, and then the League of Villains, and hopefully, that all of this would turn out alright.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\In one of the high mountains overlooking the camp, stood the five figures from before, the newest members of the League of Villains, one still covering his body in his cloak, the others dressed in the casual cloths and jackets. The girl, Toga, fiddled with the mask over her face, attached to a number of tanks and specialized syringes, and knife sheaths all along her sides, thighs and shoulders. “Errgh, this is so not cute!” “They were designed on the Black Market to specialize in assisting our Quirks. They’re for function, not style.” Mustard remarked relaxed and as cold as ever, his voice muffled slightly and given a slight robotic tone by the specialized gasmask and WW1-style helmet and gear over his face and mouth. “Couldn’t they make it cuter is all I’m asking!” Toga pouted, throwing her hands up in frustration. X grunted slightly, refitting his new, more armored mask over his face and mouth. Other then some fitted shoulder and knee pads, he had very little new “Christmas gifts”. “Yeah, at least you guys got something, I was first to join, why am I stuck looking like an edgy 90’s Comic book character.” “Probably because you always did.” Dabi muttered quietly to himself, rolling his eyes. “Tomura said something about budget constraints.” Mustard remarked. “He can genetically modify those Nomu freaks but stuff for me is out of the question?” X demanded in annoyance, shaking his head in disgust. “Who cares about fashion and all that, I’m too pumped to sit here,” The brute growled through his own mask, lifting up a hand as his fingers cracked and flexed. “Just cut us loose.” “Shut your mouths, all of you crazy bastards, you’re all too loud.” Dabi commanded, glaring back at them in irritation. “We wait. We still need all 11 of us together to pull this off.” As he spoke, the next three showed up to join them. Magne was the first to speak, carrying a gigantic, pillar-like magnet across her broad shoulder. “Sorry we’re late darlings.” Spinner carefully folded back his Stain-style mask and hair, while checking all his knives and blades to make sure they were secure, as the third hobbled beside them, dressed and bound within a black suit with numerous straps and spiked belts binding his arms to his body, only his mouth visible from the mask, lips pulled back by his bindings. He muttered to himself, jabbering away as he walked, drool dripping form his teeth. “Job….Job...Job….” “And that makes Eight of us. Three more before we strike.” Dabi remarked, before turning back to the site of the camp, it’s few lights gleaming in the dark. “The League made a mistake going after USJ with a bunch of random punks. Better a small group of elites.” “First to go, will be their sense of peace.” Dabi continued with a manic grin, the wind picking up around them. “They have to realize that their lives rest completely at our mercy.”\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Training continued as always, the class being pushed to their absolute limits once more to complete their work-outs. Most were throwing their all into it, as always, except the ones stuck in remedial, and Mineta. They were barely standing, utterly exhausted and looking half dead. By time their classes had finished, they had to go on 5 hours of sleep. “Remedials, keep working!” Aizawa commanded in annoyance, part of his scarf lashing out and wrapping around Kirishima’s forehead, yanking back to get him awake. “We’re not done here yet.” “Just a little...sleepy...” Mina managed eyes half closed, even as she stood and tried to push herself onwards. “I warned all of you this wouldn’t be pretty.” Aizawa remarked with a huff. “You all need to keep pushing your limits if you don’t want a repeat of this.” “Why am I here?” Mineta mumbled, stumbling for a moment, before Aizawa’s scarf lashed out and yanked back on his head as well. “Because you need to learn self-control and reigning in that lust,” Aizawa barked, narrowing his eyes in disgust. “This is serious work and needs focus, being ready to face life and death, not for you to be a sexual harassment lawsuit in the making.” He glared down at all of them, eyes red and terrifying, completely focused on them as he continued chewing them out. “Worst of all, you were all exposed during the final exams. As you train, think about why you’re so much more tired then everyone else.” As he spoke, Ochako walked by, carefully a large boulder by her hands, keeping it close to her grasp, but not quite holding, learning not only to float larger objects without getting sick, but learning to control how far off the ground she could get certain things. Aoyama, meanwhile, stumbled out of one of the portable bathrooms, holding his stomach and green all over his face. “Aoyama, Ochako, don’t you give up either!” Aizawa yelled, turning his icy glare upon them. “You didn’t fail, but you came damn close. 30 was the minimum, and you squeaked by with 35.” Ochako looked stricken for a moment, as Aoyama groaned, holding back the urge to vomit on the ground right then and there. Izuku had kept up his physical training, essentially boiling down to a boxing match between himself in Venom form and Tiger, trying to land a number of hits on him, only for him to stretch and bend out of the way of his strikes, before having to tank every hit and not stumble from it. Tiger was no All Might or Nomu, but Venom could still feel every hit, stumble ever so slightly from every punch. Venom was actually enjoying this. Not just because it felt like a real fight for him, but he was experimenting with modifications to his biomass in the heat of battle. As Tiger drove forward, ready to deliver another hook into Venom’s face, he held up his hand and crafted a shield of blackened, oil-like mass, blocking the blow completely. Tiger gave a small, impressed smile for a moment, before continuing his attack. It was surprising, but Izuku was not completely taken aback by his Symbiote’s new defensive abilities. Venom had grown a lot since they were on their own, and without Riot or other Symbiotes from the Imperium to lord over him, it made sense Venom would start to branch out on his own and find new things he could do. “As you train, remember your fundamental drive, what lead you here, why you’re training.” Aizawa stated, as Izuku and Venom held off another assault. “Why am I here? Why is he riding me so hard? Only you have that answer.” ‘Drive’ The Thought had burned into the forefront of each student’s mind, as they burned the area around them, created further and further explosions, or popped out more and more items while eating. Izuku almost felt the desire forming to ask Aizawa something important, before refocusing on his training with Venom. He could ask it later. “What is it you wish to ask him.” Venom asked mentally, remaining focused on the attacking Tiger. “Well, where is All Might for one?” Izuku wondered aloud. Venom thought it over for a moment, before crafting another large shield from his hand, resembling something like a Pavise or a Roman Legionary’s shield, and blocking blows from Tiger. He nodded to himself as he finally came up with an answer. “This is secret right? So All Might showing up anywhere is bound to get attention.” “I guess...” Izuku muttered to himself. Venom did not bother asking why, refocusing his attentions on Tiger in their short brawl, but he could guess. Even without the connection the two shared, Venom could see easily why Izuku was so intent on All Might. He wanted to help Kota come to terms with his apprehension towards Quirks and society. Venom for his part was largely apathetic. Kota was bound to come around and change. Trying to force things would just hurt more then anything. “Let’s jump subjects. Tonight, if you all do your training, you get an interclass test of courage!” Pixie-Bob declared excitedly. “If you work hard, you get to play hard, get it?” Murmurs broke out among the class, many wondering what exactly a ‘test of courage’ entailed. Monoma, of course, was more interested in the interclass part then anything else. “A revelry in the dark.” Tokoyami remarked, Ochako giving him a weird, sideways glance. Vlad King, sensing the classes were about to lose their focus, decided to get everything back in order. “Alright, if you want to enjoy tonight, get to work!” “Yes sir!” Both classes declared, refocusing their efforts. From further away, out of sight of the others, were two reptilian, raptor-like figures seated among the tree tops, watching the class with yellow-green eyes. They wore simple cloths for the outdoors, one red with plums along his head, the other orange. The second, the orange one, turned to Red. “Children’s games, this is how they train?” “If it gets results, who cares?” The other remarked, readjusting his hand and foot claws to stay on the branch. “We won’t be here for long anyway.” “I don’t like this. We should be earning our place in Knull’s glory, not waiting for others to do our work.” The Second grumbled. “Calm yourself. To reveal ourselves too early, would bring ruin to the Church and others of Knull’s flock.” The first replied, clicking his fangs together. “We have tracked them, monitored them, and even leaked the information to the League’s master. Then, we leave them to bleed each other.”\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\The hours burned away quickly, the class getting another meal prepared for the end of the day, before their big tests of courage. Perhaps after two days of hard work and being worked to the bone by their teachers and the extra heroes, they were getting used to having to wait awhile to get their meals after their exercise. Bakugou was at the cutting board, slicing up carrots and other vegetables with the precision skill of an expert, chopping through them in seconds, each and every piece largely the same size and cleanly cut. Ochako walked by with some of her own ingredients, eyes bugging out of her head in shock. “Wow, when did you get so good at cutting food Bakugou?” She said with surprise. “What do you mean, when did I get good?! Why are you people so bad at everything?!” He yelled in rage, turning to her with an expression of pure rage, even as he continued cutting the vegetables with practiced precision. “At least he’s not blowing things up.” Denki remarked, as Kirishima sighed to himself. “I’m too tired for any of this.” Izuku, meanwhile, was preparing the pots and coals this time for the cooking, gloves carefully placed over his burned-scared hand and the fully healed one. Venom chanted within his brain. “Food, food, food!” As he worked, Shoto was walking behind him, his own kiln-made pot in tow. Izuku turned slightly, before clearing his throat. “Todoroki, can I ask you something?” “Hmm, what about?” Shoto replied, raising an eyebrow. “It’s about Kota. That kid.” “The one that hit you in the balls?” Shoto asked bluntly, before his eyes drifted around the room. “Where is he by the way.” “He disappears a lot.” Izuku stated. “But he seems to dislike heroes. A lot. Just Quirks in general. I don’t know what to say.” “It’s a bit mean to say, but perhaps you shouldn’t say anything at all.” Shoto remarked. “If words meant anything, he wouldn’t hate heroes, cause someone else would’ve given him a big speech before.” Izuku slightly quietly as Shoto spoke further. “If you want to convince him, actions might work better then words.” “I guess I get what you mean. It would pretentious for someone to just give big speeches to him.” Izuku remarked as Venom grumbled within his head. “Told you.” “you might also want to be careful. I don’t know why you have an interest in this kid, but you have a habit for poking into delicate business.” Shoto remarked, eye narrowing slightly. “Not everyone is going to appreciate that.” Before Izuku could reply, Iida was barking orders at them from afar. “You two, stop talking and get back to work! Our Vegetable and Beef stew must be the best possible!” After a hardy meal of excited eating, everyone was able to get on their feet and ready for the test of courage. “After a good meal, we’re ready for our reward!” Mina declared, pumping her fist in anticipation. The others in the Remedial group began to cheer, before Aizawa cut in. “Sorry to interrupt, and it pains me to say it, but the Remedial class will be spending extra time with me.” Aizawa cut in, the remedials stopping right where they stood. “I wasn’t satisfied with your performance today, so I now I cut into your play time.” Mina did not react at first, merely looking at him with a slightly daze, slightly unbelieving expression, before she melted into an expression of total panic and horror at what he had just said. “YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!!” Aizawa’s capture scarf lashed out, the teacher perhaps sensing his students would on some level try to make a break for it. Mineta tried to escape, even as the others cried out for their chance at fun and a reward. Izuku and others shuddered at the sight, as they were dragged back to the central facility. “I didn’t even fail!” Mineta cried out in horror as Aizawa dragged them away. As they left, the Pussycats went into their explanation of things, going over the rules and rolls, such as who would be scaring who, the drawing of straws, and the card in the middle to show they had actually done their rout and weren’t just cheating. “A revelry in the dark.” Tokoyami muttered to himself. “He keeps saying that.” Ochako muttered to Izuku, trying to hold back a laugh. “The goal with this is to use any Quirk abilities you have to scare the other team til they piss their pants!” Tiger roared with excitement, as Pixie-Bob and Rag-doll jumped up and down excitedly. Mandalay merely looked at the three in deadpan silence at their interruption of her instructions. “Ew. Please don’t say that.” Jirou muttered, shaking her head. Once the teams were drawn, Izuku was put with Ojiro, as team six, right behind Tsuyu and Ochako, Venom was rather surprisingly supportive of the idea. “He’s a good one. If forgettable. Once we get in there, we’ll scare the shits outta them though!” ‘Why am I not surprised you were already planning scare them?’ Izuku thought with a defeated shake of the head. “Hey, at least when we go in, we’ll scare them better then anyone.” Ojiro suggested with a nervous laugh. “No offense, but your Quirk...” “Yeah, he was planning that himself.” Izuku said with a bemused smile. Venom chuckled darkly to himself. Since it was competition, he’d go all out, even if it was scaring children. Bakugou was stuck with Todoroki, already disgusted at the idea, and trying to pawn off their partnership to anyone else. “Will anyone trade with me damnit!” “No trades and no givies-backies!” Rag-doll declared, somersaulting behind him, as Bakugou straightened in rage, stiff as a board as his eyes went bloodshot. He said nothing, perhaps accepting his fate to be stuck with Shoto at this point, who seemed largely apathetic about the whole thing. Izuku was simply glade he wasn’t isolated again by the whole thing. The teams went in, one after the other, before coming to Uraraka and Tsuyu. Pixie-Bob motioned them in with an easy smile. “So, these are the fifths, Froggy-Kitty and Uraraka-Kitty.” The two went in, Tsuyu generally relaxed even as the screams of panic and fright filled the forest. Uraraka, meanwhile was visibly terrified over the idea of being here, as she and Tsuyu walked the dirt path before them. “I’m so scared Tsu. There’s so much screaming.” Uraraka said, looking around in fright. “Understandable. That would be Kyouka and Hagakure,” Tsuyu explained calmly, before holding up her hand. “I don’t scare easily. Would you like to hold my hand as we go through.” Ochako did so, as they continued along. With night falling over them, everything was darkened and near-pitch black over them. As the two headed on their way, the Students of Class B, several yards ahead, lay in wait, congratulating themselves on their ability to scare others. Honenuki poked his head out of the bushes, his silver hair and exposed teeth, with few lips or gums, practically making him look like Venom’s love child, stood in start contrast with the more average appearances of his classmates Yui and Kendo. “Kodai! You did amazing. Everyone crapped the pants because of you!” He remarked, giving a wide grin. “That was great work.” Kendo said, giving a thumbs-up. “Thank you.” The dark-haired girl replied simply. “Bakugou and Todoroki were hilarious.” He stated with a laugh. As they talked back and forth, Honenuki stopped, sniffing the air. “By the way, you notice that smell? Smells like burning.” “Now that you mention it, I’m seeing smoke or something.” Kendo remarked, as a strange dark purple, musty smoke began to slowly roll in from beyond the forest. She gave it a strange look. Bakugou nor Todoroki produced smoke like that. “Maybe Bakugou or someone got so scared, they fired off their Quir...” He began before the smoke went into his nostrils and mouth, and he immediately fell on his face. Kendo looked on in shock, before quickly clamping her mouth shut and expanding her hand to a gigantic size and wrapping it around Yui. “Don’t breath this in, it’s poison!” Little did she realize, the gas was shooting out across the forests, the thick, purple fog hanging thick over the forests, as those in the rest of the group looked up to the skies in confusion. Izuku was tipped off before he knew what was going on, Venom coldly reporting to him. “Deku. We have to get out of here. A fire and poison gas have been unleashed. We must leave.” “Wha…?” He began, before he noticed the Pussycats were looking up in the forests. In the far distance, a blue glow rose above the trees, thick pillars of smoke rising with it. “Smoke, what the hell is going on?” Tiger remarked, as the group remained focused on it. In the epicenter of this smoke, surrounded by blue fires and conflagration all around, was Dabi, his left firmly pressed against the bark of a tree, fire burning off the side of it, as he smiled to himself. “Let the games begin. Let’s go wild, Vanguard Action Squad.” As Toga and Tsuyu continued on, only slightly aware of what was going on, Toga watched them from the forests and underbrush, a mask fitted over her face, as she carefully checked out her two targets, making sure to know their every move and reaction so she knew how best to take them apart. In the path leading to the main building, a figure dressed in black and with white bone-like spurs and growths jutting from his face and hands, his skin peeling and breaking off as bone claws shot form hsi fingers, waiting with narrowed eyes in the dark, while in the clearing itself, Hikishi shouldered her massive pillar-like magnet, like a rocket launcher. “Little Kitty cat is being such an annoyance. Let’s change that.” She remarked, before a pink glow surrounded Pixie-Bob, who hardly noticing the strange pulling sensation, until she was torn form the ground, and slammed head-first into the pillar. “What...what the hell? There are villains here?” Ojiro shouted in shock, as Magne stood over Pixie-Bob’s unconscious body, the magnet pressed threateningly against her skull. Another, a smaller, wiry figure, dressed almost exactly like Stain, with various swords and blades sheathed across him, stepped over Pixie-Bob, throwing his hands out dramatically beside him, giving a small grin to the gathered heroes. It was with that Izuku realized that, if they were under attack, that meant Kota was alone, out in the mountain, with no one around. At that mountain, the massive, cloaked figure stepped into the shadows, watching him with a grin beneath him mask. Venom squirmed in annoyance. “We have to move now. These two chucklefucks aren’t alone. Fires, gas, blood and a man whose more bone then muscle, and a man more muscle than bone. I can sense much hostile intent.” “I had a feeling that was the case.” Izuku muttered, as Tiger and Mandalay squared off with the two. He bit his lip slightly, as Venom began to coat his legs. This was about to get deadly.

27 always heard that Mondays were supposed to be the worst day of the week. He’s never fully understood the concept until now. After Midnight left the apartment on Friday, Eraser told him that he’ll be going with them to their work on Monday. At first he found the prospect of going to UA a relief. Not only would it get him out of the apartment, he’d be able to stay within earshot of Eraser. Being with him for the majority of the day would make getting information for Miasma easier. The excitement dwindled away and dread started to replace it on Saturday when he realized who he would meet at UA. Interacting with the students wouldn’t be an issue for him. After the initial confrontation that is bound to happen when the students who recognize him, they should all forget about him sooner or later. If he can keep his head down and become as part as the background as possible, they’d leave him alone. What made him dread coming on Monday was realizing that Toshinori works there. He was going to see Toshinori frequently if his schedule was anywhere similar to Erasers or Mics. He’d have to see the person he put on Miasma’s radar every day. He already felt the guilt start to eat at him as soon as he wrote the letter and it has only grown stronger since. Initially he thought the feeling was because he was nervous that Miasma wouldn’t be able to find the pen, that they would say he never made a report. However, when he looked out the window the following morning, the pen was no longer laying there in the dirty alley. Despite knowing that Miasma more than likely retrieved the pen, the feeling stayed. Throughout the weekend he started to feel worse about what he did, no matter how hard he tried to reason with himself that it was for the best, it wouldn’t go away. He felt like an exposed nerve, any sound set him on high alert. He doesn’t know what he expected to happen. Maybe Miasma barging into the apartment saying that what he gave wasn’t enough and just get rid of him or Toshinori himself to storming in and accuse him of betrayal. The smell or the sight of food turned his stomach and he was unable to keep anything down for long. Eraser seemed to pick up on it after a couple of meals. He didn’t seem to concern that he was only eating a couple of bites of food at first, then he saw the concern grow on his face as the pattern didn’t stop. He started to taste test every item of food that was on the plate, not just one item like he’d used to do. When that didn’t work, Eraser offered to let him eat some cookies in exchange of the meal he prepared. He was able to take one bite before he remembered who he made them with. It quickly turned into ash in his mouth and he quickly excused himself from the room. He couldn’t get his mind to stop replying what he’s done and the potential consequences of his actions. Toshinori started to haunt his dreams when he could sleep. Asking why he did it, if it was worth it, begging for his life. The last time he slept was when he was taking a nap Saturday evening and dreamt that Toshinori was in front of him in the red room asking him why. He tried to explain, but Toshinori’s whispered why’s continued to grow in volume until he was screaming at him. He felt the spit spray his face as he got yelled at by the slowly approaching man. He woke up in cold sweat when Bug started to laugh in the background and maggots started to crawl over Toshinori’s already bony arms as he reached out to him in blood covered hands. Avoiding sleep after that was simple. Eraser and Mic seemed to be fine with him sitting in his room for as long as he liked. He learned that they wouldn’t bother him unless it was for food or if he looked like he was already preoccupied. If he was just sitting thinking, Mic would start encouraging him to talk to him about what he was pondering, which he quickly turned down. Thereafter, any time they did check on him, he’d pretend he was sleeping and they would leave. During the day, he would take the notepad and colored pencils that Midnight had given him and let himself mindlessly draw. He could tell they tried their hardest to include him with stuff they were doing. Asking if he’d want to watch a movie with them, if he wanted to help cook, if he would like to draw on the table while they graded papers. He turned every invite down,it was becoming too much effort to keep up with them and settled to keep by himself to try and reign his thoughts in. Sunday came and went uneventful. Mic finally went to the station for work and him and Eraser listened to his show while they ate dinner. And then it was Monday. Mondays were normally just another day in the week for him. But this one? He wished it never came. 27 felt his pulse race as he stood in front of the UA entrance next to Mic and Eraser. Mic was chattering excitedly about a lesson he had for his students, something about translating an English song while Eraser merely hummed in acknowledgement. “Let’s go over it one more time.” Eraser said shooting him a look from the corner of his eye. “You’re going to stay with me. If you need something, let me know and I’ll help as best as I can. However, if it can wait, make sure you ask during an appropriate time, I do still need to teach.”   He resisted sending back a glare as Eraser relied what his orders were again but merely nodded.Eraser had already told him the plans for his attendance at UA six times, he would have been offended, if not for the fact it looked to be more for Eraser’s benefit than his. He knew his job, it was the only thing that he was confident about today. He’s going to shadow him, like he’s done with some of his past clients, a simple protection detail. Keep quiet, stay to the sides, be the buffer, and not be a inconvenience. Eraser seemed satisfied with his response and they entered the building. They soon parted ways with Mic as he went to go to a meeting with the head of departments, and he was left alone with Eraser. 27 tried to do his job as best he could like any other client but Eraser simultaneously made it easier and harder. Eraser would walk right down the center of the hall. It was impressive that the students parted like the red sea as Eraser walked, but it also caused some issues. It made it easier to for him to spot it, but it also made it easier for any enemies to spot him. It also left him wide opened and it made it difficult to provide adequate protection when there were multiple angles an attacker can attack from. It also didn’t help the fact that when they avoided him, it left not only Eraser exposed but it also left him exposed. It ruined his cover and his plan to go by unnoticed. He wasn’t blending into the shadows like he wanted, but seemed like he had a giant neon sign pointing directly at him. , He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him that only seemed to grow as he went. With the amount of whispering that they had left in their wake, at this rate the whole school knows he was there. “You ready?” 27 gave him the most exasperated look he could manage. Eraser raised an eyebrow back at him, his hand still holding the door handle. He had half a mind that Eraser was making his job harder on purpose. Not only did he leave his back exposed to the hall, which he quickly blocked, but he kept asking if he was ready and alerting the people inside the room of their presence. He had already said yes when he ask him if he was ready to meet his homeroom class down the hall, a few minutes weren’t going to change that. Just as he was going to open the door himself, Eraser stopped looking him over and opened the door with little flourish. “Everyone sit down.” Eraser ordered as he entered the room. He strode confidently in, ignoring the the confused looks his way as he set down his work bag. Eraser was digging around in said bag as he addressed him. “You can sit in the empty seat over there.” 27 nodded and went to the free chair that Eraser indicated with a jerk of his head. He felt the once relaxed atmosphere shift to something more intense as he went to the free desk. Resisting his training, he kept his head low, avoiding looking at the sure to be inquisitive looks that was sure to be sent his way. The whole room was still, it was quiet enough he was sure you could hear a pin drop. He bit his tongue as he resisted looking up once he sat down, all his senses screaming at him to see who’s around him. Literally and figuratively he needed to keep his head down, he was sure if he made eye contact with one of the students, he would learn to regret it. He didn’t want to compare his situation to a lamb inside a lion's den, but that's what it felt like. He was confident in the training he has received but they have all received training also. If they decided to all do something at once, he would undoubtedly lose. He was used to fighting smaller groups and one on one, but this class wasn’t just larger, they all must have strong quirks to make it into the hero course. No amount of training would prepare him to fight nineteen kids with strong physical quirks. “All right, so for today’s lesson-” “Sensei!” a voice yelled out from across the classroom. “Who’s that?” The feeling of eyes on him seemed to triple at the question. He wanted to look up at Eraser but the heard the kid in front of him turn in his seat to look at him, so he settled at looking out the window that was next to him. “Is that really how you want to spend your time Ashido?” Eraser sighed. “It’s unimportant right now.” Multiple started to shout out at once. He was silently grateful that that the people closest to him had remained quiet, he doesn’t know if he would be able to handle someone yelling that close to him. The lack of sleep and food quickly caught up with him as the rush from the morning left his body. His head was pounding from lack of sleep and his hands shook slightly, which he covered by pulling his sleeves to cover them. “Sensei perhaps it’s wise to introduce him? I’m sure everyone would calm down once he’s been introduced.” 27 couldn’t resist the urge to look over when he recognized the voice. Iida was standing up at his desk two seats away. He looked better than he last saw him, no longer sounding as nasally as he last had and his nose and cheeks were no longer flushed. He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched Iida fix his glasses on his face and started to talk about the importance of knowing every student in the class. He couldn't help but seem slightly shocked that Iida was still there, he must be stronger than he initially thought. “Fine, only if you get to work as soon as introductions done.” Eraser said duly which he earned him a few reluctant agreements. Just as Eraser turned to look at him, he was interrupted by the door slamming open and a shout of someone announcing themselves. “I AM HERE!” 27 couldn’t help but freeze in his seat and stare wide eyed at the number one hero as he waved to the classroom. He was just as intimidating as he remembered, he was so tall he was leaning over Eraser and had a massive frame to match, but no longer had his face in a determined scowl but his iconic smile. Eraser looked like a toothpick next to All Might but still glared him down. “All Might,” Eraser grumbled roughly. “What are you doing here?” “I-uh..” All Might said, his face reddening as he looked away from the glare. “I need you.” 27 jumped in his seat when the pink girl across the classroom let out a sharp ‘I knew it!’ and then started cooing in the silent classroom before quickly covering her mouth with a eep when Eraser turned his glare onto her. “You need me?” “Well, I need your quirk.” All Might rubbed the back of his neck nervously and gave Eraser a slanted smile. “I was covering for homeroom for the Gen 2 kids. I thought it would be a great opportunity to have them try a hero course activity.” “And?” Eraser prompted when All Might voice trailed off and remained silent. “Well, one of the students kinda lost control of their quirk and they got stuck. We were hoping if you used erasure on them, it would unstick them.” Eraser pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long exhale before nodding. “Alright, everyone while I’m dealing with this, do some homework or something until I get back. Iida is in charge.” 27 got to his feet to follow, but Eraser raised his hand and told him to wait here, that he’d be right back. He wishes he ignored the ordered and followed, so he didn’t have nineteen pairs of eyes trained on him as soon as the door closed. They all seemed to think he’ll say something if they stared long and hard at him enough. They could do it as long as they like, that tactic never worked on him, he’s fine with with the silence. Even if it was a waiting game, he could out wait them. If he didn’t say anything, hopefully they wouldn’t either. He only had to out wait until Eraser came back, after that he’ll be in the clear. Leaning back in his seat while keeping his face as blank as he could he turned to look back out the window. “I can’t take it anymore!” a voice said dramatically somewhere in front of him. “Aizawa was going to introduce you, but since he’s gone, why don’t you do it?” He was set in ignoring her, but multiple voices started to join in with hers. The increasing volume reminded him of the headache that was slowly forming into a migraine. “Alright.” he sighed turning his head back to address the class. “Im twe- Shinsou Hitoshi.” Shivers went down his spine as the room suddenly became quiet as they started to analyze him. He saw multiple eyebrows furrow as they looked him over and tried to connect the face to the name. He himself recognized a couple of the students from his previous job. Both girls that he had interacted with were squinting at him from across the room, and the red haired boy was giving him a big smile from where he sat a couple of seats down. He did feel sweat drip down his back when he noticed the green idiot who tried to take on the Nomu was sitting in front of him as he started to mumble, while the guy who landed at hit on him was sitting behind him with eyes narrowed dangerously. “What’s your quirk?” A waving uniform said in one of the front seats. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows as he saw her. Invisibility wasn’t an extremely rare quirk, but normally is only activated for a couple of minutes tops. He knew one person who could remain invisible as long as he held his breath, but she looked to be continuously invisible. Just as he thought that her quirk would make a great Number, he quickly shook it out of his brain. “It’s above your pay grade.” “What?”   “I’m not going to give away that information for free.” He shrugged. If it was in his power, he would prevent them from ever learning, but if he was going to spend a lot of time with them, he knew it would slip sooner or later. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to make them work for it. “What if we tell you our names and quirks? Then it’d be even.” The pink girl shouted. Before he could agree or disagree, people started to introduce themselves and their quirk at a rapid pace. He tried to remember them all, quickly filing away the information for later. He knew the Miasma didn’t have this information. If they did have it,they would have sold it to The League of Villains and perhaps their last mission would have turned out better. Just as the last person reluctantly grumbled out their name and quirk they all looked at him expectantly. “I never agreed that I’d tell you my quirk.” The collective groan in response was almost worth being here alone. Almost. “Hey Iida?” The green haired kid in front of him asked. Midoriya if he remembers correctly. “Is this the guy that beat you in hand to hand?” “N-No! What makes you think that?” Iida spluttered out while waving an arm. 27 clasped his hands together tightly to stop himself from face palming at the blatant lie. “Well, you said you were with your brother at his friend’s house when it happened. You’re brother is a pro hero, so the odds are high that it was another pro hero. You said he was our age and I can’t imagine anyone not in a hero course beating you.” Midoriya rambled. He leaned forward onto his desk and made eye contact. 27 straightened his back as the Izuku started to really look him over. “Is that why you’re here? Did Aizawa transfer you to UA to be in the Hero course?”   “Sure.” He replied instantly. He doesn’t know what Eraser wanted him to tell his students why he was here, they never covered his cover story fully. But this one didn’t seem like a bad one to go with. “I know you from somewhere.” The blonde haired kid in front of him said. His eyes were pinpoints as he glared at him. “No you don’t.” he replied. He couldn't help but feel slightly smug as the kid seemed to grow more frustrated. “Fuck yes I do.” “Sure you do Combustible.” He said rolling his eyes. “What the fuck did you call me?” Bakugou growled dangerously, small explosions were let out as he slammed his hands onto Midoriya’s desk as he stood up. “Maybe you should calm down Blasty, it’s not cool to scare the new guy.” a voice said calmly. “Blasty?” 27 couldn't stop the smirk that started to form on his face as the blond seemed to visibly simmer at the name. He knew he shouldn’t push it, especially with this guy landing a hit on him the last time they met, but this was too easy. “Fulmination, why didn’t you tell me your name was already so interesting?” He pulled the neck of his sweater over his to cover his mouth to try to hide his expression better, which he immediately regretted when recognition flashed in Bakugou’s eyes. His old mask did leave half of his face exposed so he knew they’d would recognize him sooner or later, but he was hoping for later. It unwittingly pushed it too far by mimicking his mask with jacket. One moment Bakugou was in his seat and the next he was reaching for him with his right hand. 27 gripped the wrist and twisted it away from him, letting the oncoming explosion onto his desk and not his face. The other hand came and grabbed at his shirt. Just as he felt the heat bubble up, he hooked his right arm and pressed it against the inside of Bakugou’s elbow then slid his arm underneath, dislodging the hand as he yanked the arm to the side. He slid out the knife that he kept in his sleeve and held it against the wrist that he now holding against the table. When Bakugou went to counter, he pressed the knife harder letting it draw up a small line of blood. “Don’t move Boom Baby. I can cut off your hand before you even lay a finger on me.” 27 growled out when he felt the hand in his twitch. He was slightly lying, he’d be able to do severe damage, but knife isn't sharp enough to cut it off. He was hoping that the importance of the use of his hands for his quirk would be what stops Bakugou from calling his bluff. “I don’t care if I hurt you, consequences mean shit to me. Nothing they or you could do would ruin me. You however? If you hurt me, in front of an audience this large, it would be a completely different story. Potential hero attacks new student in homeroom class out of anger would be a wonderful title for the school paper, maybe even the actual press. What would that say about your chances of becoming a hero? Do you think that the top hero school would keep you after that? I could land on my feet no matter how this turns out, but what about you?” The class was silent as they stared at each other. 27 can hear Bakugou grind his teeth as he glared at him, his lips curled back in a snarl. It was a matter of pride at this point. He was at an uncomfortable crouch, hovering over his seat, as he held onto Bakugou. However, he wasn’t going to let go. He wasn’t going to be the first to cave in this small standoff. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for Bakugou to do but he can wait. “You were at USJ.” Bakugou snapped at him,breaking the silence. “Yes I was.” He said dryly.. He heard a couple of sounds of recognition from the class, but most of them was covered by people yelling for explanations of what Bakugou was talking about. “He’s the one that did something to shitty hair and round face.” “Don’t forget to mention yourself Detonation. This is what this is all about right? Can’t admit that you lost to me the last time we met? Is that what made you decide to do a on the spot rematch.” Bakugou growled at him as the class started to erupt around them, yelling and shouting echoing around. He could make out some trying to reason with him to let go of the blond, some asking why there was a villain in the classroom, while some were yelling out how they now recognized him and started to recall some events to the people surrounding them. “What the hell is going on here?” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he heard the anger coloring Erasers voice. The room abruptly went quiet, but he still didn’t look away from the red eyes in front of him to see what’s going on. He was slightly concerned that his bluff wouldn’t work, and if he looked away, the last thing he’d see were those red eyes. He was relieved that Eraser was back, no longer have to make his own cover story even though it got ruined, no longer without direction on what to do. He could live with whatever consequences Eraser gives him for his actions as long as he could get him out of this situation. 27 kept his eyes on the now red faces Bakugou as he heard Iida quickly gave shorthand version of the what happened to Eraser. “I leave for fifteen minutes.” Eraser mumbled from the front of the classroom. “Shinsou, didn’t we agree to keep the knife at home?” “We did.” he replied dryly, keeping his grip tight. “Then why did you bring it here?” “I did leave that knife at the apartment. This is a different one.” “Where did you get that one?” “The box of knives.” Shinsou heard the Midoriya mutter if all underground heroes have boxes of knives laying around and if it was a requirement, he then started to wonder why they’ve never seen Eraser use a knife. “We’ll talk more about this later,” Eraser proposed when Bakugou’s hands started to spark up in irritation. “Let him go.” He pulled the knife back before Eraser even finished his sentence. Bakugou snatched his hand back and looked like he was about to say something, but was quickly cut off by Eraser. “Shinsou give me the knife and since All Might owes me, you can stay with him for a couple of minutes while I explain.” Only at the mention of his name, did 27 notice All Might standing in the doorway. He odd combination of emotions running across his face. He looked slightly shocked, nervous, and confused before it was replaced with his signature smile when he saw him looking. He gave him that same smile after he handed Eraser the knife and followed All Might into the hallway. This was his chance to make it big with Miasma, solidify his spot as a Number, no longer be useless, no longer have to worry about what happens next. If he could get the smallest bit of information on this guy, directly from the source, he could be safe. “So Entire Maybe,” 27 said as soon as the door closed. “Oh! Is this your names? Mic told me about that. But might is more like power or strength or force!” All Might boomed as he flexed one of his arms. 27 felt his body vibrate at the power behind his voice. He wouldn’t doubt that it echoed across the campus. “Sure thing Completely Perchance, but I was wondering.” “Yes?” The words suddenly died on his tongue as he looked up at the smiling hero. He couldn’t do it. He knew All Might would probably survive anything that any of the Miasma’s clients may throw at him, but he couldn’t help but have images of the Nomu pop into his head. It was surprisingly a close call for the hero, the Nomu had almost defeated him. Sure All Might ended up defeating him, but the monster could be improved upon. The League of Villains saw first hand and know the potential of those things. They did make them after all and who’s to say they have stopped making them? Their next batch would be stronger than the last. If it was stronger, it could actually accomplish what the other didn't, kill All Might. Having the guilt of telling Miasma about Toshinori was still slowly wearing him down, he doesn’t think he can take on more for today. He knows the potential information he gets from All Might could be worth a lot, but it wouldn't change Toshinori’s position. He’d still be in the same predicament. All Might’s information would be worth a lot more than Toshinori’s and It would be cheaper for clients to take what they want from Toshinori than buy Miasma’s information on All Might. Miasma probably already let it known they have some information about All Might, so they couldn’t take back what they know about Toshinori or risk their credibility. No matter what, he screwed Toshinori over. He hasn’t been able to handle the guilt with Toshinori, he doesn't think he can handle handing in over All Might also. “Never mind.” He mumbled out, shifting his weight from one foot to another as All Might’s grin seemed to grow. “All right, why don’t I take you to the teachers lounge? I have to go back to teaching, but I can drop you off along the way.” “Sure.” “Hm, I think someone is in there right now. I can’t remember who, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind watching you until Eraserhead is done. Maybe you can find something fun to do while you wait.” “Lets hope.” he mumbled sarcastically as he followed the towering hero down the hall.

We reached the boat ramp at the lake and as I got ready to back the boat into the water Sally climbed on board. “How long will it take you to get there?” she asked as I put the plug in the back of the boat. “At least an hour and a half. “I said as I looked up at her standing by the wheel. The way the sun was shining on her I could make out her dark nipples through the material of her halter-top as I smiled up at her. You sure you want to take the boat up and not the truck?” “Yes! I hate driving with the trailer bouncing all over back there. Besides it will only take me about 20 minutes to get there and I can drink a cold beer while I wait for you!” “Ok then give me a kiss and I will see you in a while!” I stepped up to the side of the 26’ day curser as she bent over the side and kissed me. “I love you baby!” We kissed and I got in the truck and backed it and the boat into the water. Sally fired up the 350 Chevy and I watched as she backed the boat slowly off the trailer. She waved to me as she backed out and then turned up out giving the big boat the gas and was soon around a point of land and out of sight. I pulled back onto the highway and in a couple of spots got a glimpse of her speeding up the lake until the road turned away from the shoreline. An hour and forty-five minutes later I pulled off of the highway and down onto what was basically a cow path the led to an old rusted gate. Sally and I had bought the land 10 years earlier and had hopes of putting a house up on it some day but for now it was just where we went camping. It was still a mile down to the water from the gate and the old road was so rough it took another 15 minutes to get down to where I found Sally setting down an ice chest under a shade canopy she had set up! I parked and then walked over to her. Sally was sweating lightly giving her soft skin a slight shine as she pulled 2 beers from the ice chest and plopped her butt down on it. “Dam next time I’m driving the truck! I didn’t realize what all you had to do to set things up before I would get here!” she smiled as she ran the cold beer can between her breasts as she looked at me. “If you get the tent set up I will set up the stove and then we will be ready for dinner right after we take a swim!” We went about or work and in no time I was picking up a towel and walking to the cool water. I stopped by the boat where Sally had beached it and pulled off my sweaty T-shirt and threw it onto the bow. “You going to put on your suit?” I called to Sally as I turned to watch her walking to me. “Nope, I wasn’t going to. Do I need to.” She smiled at me knowing I wanted to see what she had bought. “You’ll see it soon enough but for now I’m going to show you another kind of suit! MY BIRTHDAY SUIT!” I watched as she untied her top pulling it off as she waded out into the water. She stopped as it reached her knees and pulled off her Daisy Dukes and rinsed them both out in the water. I must have been standing with my mouth open as I watched her breasts hanging and swaying back and forth and how her nipples stiffened as she splashed water on her self! “What? You look like you have never seen me with out cloths on before!” My dick was getting stiff as I pulled off my own shorts and tossed them with my shirt. “I tried for years to get you to go skinny dipping and you wouldn’t even do it at night! Now here you are standing right out in broad daylight as naked as you can be! Fuck Sally! YOU LOOK HOT!” She smiled at me splashing water at me. “No kids!” She said and turned diving in the cool water and swam out the few yards to a floating dock I had built for the kids to swim around and play on. She pulled her self out of the water and stood there nude smiling at me. “Well are you coming?” she called. “All most!” I yelled back at her as I dove in and swam out to her. I climbed up the ladder to find her lying on her back letting the after noon sun shine on her, in my eyes, perfect body! We sat there talking softly to each other until we could hear a bass boat coming across the lake. I thought Sally would slip into the water but instead she just waved at the 2 guys on it as they whooped going by! We had lain there long enough to dry out and sense neither of us had any sunscreen on spots that had never seen the light of day before I said. “Come on. I am hungry and we both need to put some cream on or we will be in trouble!” Sally stood up laughing. “Yes we don’t want to burn that pecker do we?” “Oh hell no!” I said as she dove into the water with me right behind her. Neither of us put any thing on enjoying the freedom and each other as after noon turned into evening and then night. We roasted marshmallows and ate them like kids and really for the first time in years found out that we not only love each other we liked one another! “You know I love my kids but I think I like not having them around.” She said with a smile as she stuck a gob of half burnt marshmallow into her mouth and shook her tits at me in the fire light. “Yea, it’s almost to bad Mark and Tina are coming up.” I ran my hand over her shoulder enjoying the softness of her skin. “I would like to spend the whole weekend like this!” “Well, most of what I brought to wear is a little more reveling than you might think and Tina knows about it because she was with me when I went shopping.” She stood up stretching, pushing her breasts out as she did. “And I think you will be happy with what she bought as well! Now come to bed with me and rub some cream into my back!” We went into the ten and I picked up the cream as Sally lay on her tummy. I began working the cream into her skin starting on her shoulders and working down to her bare bottom. “Does she know about our new found fun?” I worked more cream into my palms and then worked from the small of her back down over her ass cheeks puling them open and letting my thumbs slip into her crease! “Yes, a little. Umm baby easy!” I worked down in between her thighs and with a soft sigh Sally opened her legs giving me complete access to her woman hood! I worked my fingers into her slowly opening her, spreading her vagina lips as I let my thumb bump into her now exposed clit. “Are you hard baby?” “Oh yes!” I said “Do you want to be in me?” “Yes!” “Now?” “Yes!” “Lay down.” I did as she asked and felt her set up in the darkness of the tent. “Here!” Sally took my dick in her hand. “Let’s put it in!” she let it slip into her wet hole as she guided it in sinking slowly down on me. She leaned forward letting her clit grind into my pubic mound as she kissed me. “Is this what you wanted?” She pinched my nipples as she began to mike me with her pussy muscles. “Did you want me to fuck you?” Sally had never talked much in sex and had never been the aggressor before and I suddenly found I was very close to coming! “Yes, yes I like it very much!” I whispered to her as she bit and nibbled on my neck! Do you want to cum in me?” I pushed up into her as she moved on me for the first time. “Oh god baby! Oh!” was all I could say. “That’s it give me what I want! I’m ready Sammy cum in me!” I let out a groan as the first shot of milky hot liquid shot out of me and in to her! “That’s it baby fill me up with it! Oh yes I want it in me Sam!” I rolled her onto her back and began to pound into her as I shot the last of me seed deep into her belly! Suddenly as fast as it came it was gone and I felt like she had ripped my guts out! All I could do was lay trembling on her as she stroked my face and hair. “That’s it baby I feel you in me! I feel how hot you are and how hot your cum is in me!” I started to move but she pulled me back tight to her breasts. “No! Stay here! Let me enjoy feeling you Sam!” We lay like that until I went soft and slipped out of my wife. My dick was sticky with cum as I move to the side kissing her. “What about you? Let me do it for you!” She pulled my face to hers kissing me softly. No just hold me! You gave me what I wanted this time! “You can make me cum next time.” She kissed me again. “Now go to sleep my love!” and I did holding her close to me!

Chapter Three She couldn’t seem to relax.  Her father and Ray were talking about the house, about the business and the island, but Felicity was aware of only one thing.  She could see him at the edge of their property, an ax cutting through the air every few minutes with a solid thwack, split logs falling to the ground after every swing.  She watched the swing of his arms and tried not to marvel at the smoothness of the action.  The muscles of his back rippled beneath his skin with each movement. “It really is beautiful here.  The view… it’s spectacular.” Her father smirked, “Most beautiful place on earth, if you ask me.  And the house, well, we’re proud of what we have here.  The girls, when they were young, liked to tell everyone we lived in a castle.  With the turret, of course, it resembles one.  Laurel’s room was up there and I cannot begin to tell you how many fights I had to break up because those two couldn’t agree who got to be the princess.” “Princess Felicity, huh?” Ray teased, the smile on his face genuine. It seemed that he and her father got along well enough and being around her dad had eased some of the tension between them. “Laurel was the oldest so she seemed to think it was her birthright to be the princess all the time,” she explained, “She always wanted me to be the evil queen.” Ray and her dad laughed and she found herself relaxing ever so slightly.  When her mom stepped outside with a tray of muffins, Felicity reached for one to distract herself. “Mom’s muffins are famous,” Felicity explained, peeling back the wrapper, “Everyone on the island orders baskets of them for bridal showers and baby showers and any other occasion they can use as an excuse.  You’ve got to try the banana – no nuts, of course- they’re my favorite.” She took a bite and fought to hold back the moan of appreciation that wanted to leave her lips.  It had been a long time since she’d had one of her mom’s famous muffins.  “I myself happen to be partial to the carrot, Ray,” her dad told him, “But they’re all great.  Donna is a wonderful baker.  One of the many reasons why I married her.” As they ate their breakfast, Felicity’s eyes traveled around the porch.  It was easy to spot the simple changes that had been made, the balustrades that she and Laurel had broken when they were young had been replaced and the chipped paint was no longer chipped but fresh and new.  Several floorboards that had once been loose were as steady as ever and the steps leading into the freshly mowed yard had been completely replaced.  It seemed that Oliver had done well for the money her parents were paying him. “There are still a few things that we’d like to see finished before winter rears her ugly head but it’s getting there,” her father was telling Ray, “A few of the upstairs windows need replaced but Ollie can’t manage it all by himself.  Unfortunately, I just don’t have time the time to help him out.” She didn’t hear Ray’s reply.  She stood and took a cup of coffee from the tray her mother had set on the table, ambling down the steps and into the yard. The wooded area behind her family home was a vibrant painting of red and gold, the leaves turning as autumn was quickly fading into winter.  It had always been her favorite time on the island, the short few weeks before the trees became bear and snow threatened.  “Are you alright?” The sound of his voice jumpstarted her heart and Felicity clapped her hand over her breast.  Oliver stood behind her, a respectable distance between them, but she felt the heat of him as if he were actually touching her.  She hadn’t meant to wander so close to where he’d been cutting wood but her feet had carried her to him of their own accord.  She found herself unable to remove her eyes from his. “I’m fine.” His face was still that same cold mask that he had greeted her with previously but his eyes had warmed and she saw a bit of her Oliver there. He looked away, lifting the ax still in his hands, and swung. Felicity moved to step away from him but as her eyes took him in one last time, she caught sight of the swirling black ink etched on his ribcage.  It wasn’t his only tattoo, he had several including a crude dragon on his left shoulder blade, but this one was different.  She reached for him without thought, catching his arm with her fingers tight on his elbow.  He lowered the ax, setting it aside, and angled himself to face her fully. “What is it, Felicity?” She felt a series of emotions pass through her, warring for dominance, but her heart couldn’t settle on one. “Lift up your arm.” His eyes widened and there was a hint of warning in his tone. “Felicity.” She grasped his elbow more tightly and drew him forward.  He didn’t resist her, lifting his arm over his head to grant her the access that she’d requested. Her breath caught as her hand rose to drift across the intricate script.  She was trembling.  She recognized the word for what it was, a name only Oliver had ever dared to call her. Flick. Felicity released his arm as if she’d been burned and stumbled away.  She half expected him to come after her, to stop her retreat and tell her that it would be okay, that they would be okay.  But his voice, when it came, was hollow and broken. “Felicity, don’t.” She shook her head, her damp eyes stinging, and retreated another step. “Felicity, please, please don’t cry,” he pleaded. She felt something inside of her shattering.  Every instinct told her to run toward him, to draw him into her arms and to allow him to do the same to her.  Ten years worth of pain had been bottled up inside of her so deep that if uncorked, she knew she would explode.  It was buried in her bones, hidden in their depths, and seeing him there before her brought it rushing to the surface.  She couldn’t control the tear filled sob that escaped her.  But she was able to stop the next from coming. “Why?  Why would you stay away, Oliver?  Why didn’t you want me to know that you were here?  That you –“ The hurt in his eyes cut her.  The pain he so obviously wanted to hide couldn’t stay hidden forever. “Felicity.” She shook her head, “Why?  Answer the question, Oliver, please.  Why?” For a moment she thought that he would explain.  Instead, he retrieved the ax from where it had been discarded and left her standing there alone.  Tears dampened her cheeks. When she moved this time, it wasn’t to return to where she’d left Ray with her father on the porch.  Felicity rounded the house instead, bypassing a confrontation that would undoubtedly leave her in pieces, and entered through the front door.  She dropped onto the sofa in the sitting room and closed her eyes, clutching her head in her hands. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” Her mother’s arms wrapped around her and Felicity leaned into the warmth.  Tears continued to trek down her cheeks.  They had been on Star Island for less than six hours and everything she had thought she’d buried deep was being dragged to the surface.  If she had only known what she was coming home to, she never would’ve returned.  Certainly not with Ray in tow. Wiping her face on her sleeve, she leveled her mother with an accusatory glare. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her mom sighed, “Sweetheart, Oliver asked us not to.  And before you go and tell me that, as your mother, I should’ve told you anyway, I couldn’t do that to him.  We don’t know what he’s been through.  He’s been gone for a very long time and I think that this is a lot harder for him than any of us can imagine.” “Has he told you anything?  Where has he been?  Do you or Daddy know what happened to him?” “As far as I know, he hasn’t really been open with anyone.  For the better part of six years, Moira has been begging for information about him.  She just needed someone to tell her if he was dead or alive and when word finally came that he’d been declared missing in action, that was the end of it.  I haven’t spoken to her much since… since you left the island but they continued searching for him even after the ruling came down,” Donna explained, “We all thought that he was gone.  But he turned up on Moira’s doorstep a couple of months ago and –“ “Months?” Felicity’s surprised gasp cut her mother off.  Those familiar blue eyes were full of sympathy, empathy, and even a bit of contrition.  He had been home for months and no one had bothered to tell her. The screen door bounced roughly off of its frame as someone stepped inside and Felicity’s head turned at the sound.  Ray stood there, the tension in his shoulders evident again, as he watched her with her mom.  “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She watched her mother exit the room and a moment later, Ray took the spot beside her that had been vacated. “Felicity, what’s going on?  I’ve never seen you like this.  Crying and… and withdrawn.  This isn’t the girl that I know.”                She couldn’t respond.  He was right.  This wasn’t her.  At least, as far as Ray knew, she wasn’t this girl.  Vulnerable and weak and a walking disaster.  The woman that Ray had known for the duration of their relationship was headstrong and witty and brilliant and dedicated.  She was a mask that Felicity had donned in the face of tragedy.  She had walked away from everyone and everything and she had become someone else in order to survive.  Ray deserved to hear the truth.  He was trying to be patient, to be understanding, but the fact that she had done a complete one eighty in such a short period of time clearly had him worried. She took a slow, even breath and willed away the pain that encompassed her heart. “God, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to turn into this emotional mess the minute we got here.  Obviously being back on the island is bringing up some stuff that I’d thought I’d let go.  Apparently not, if the waterworks are any indication, but look, I’m good now.  Promise.  I’m fine.” His eyes on her were challenging her to show him that her words were a lie but she held her ground, affixing a plastic smile on her face and forcing her shoulders to relax. “Okay,” he sighed, “But if it gets to be too much, just remember that we can leave whenever we want.  There’s a car waiting at the port that will take us back to Coast City.  Just say the word.” Felicity stood and held out her hand to him.  He took it without hesitation. “Let’s get out of here for a little while,” she urged, “We can go for a ride.  I can show you the island.” He grinned down at her, his free hand brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You can ride a bike?” he teased, “I’ve seen you trip over your own two feet more times than I can count.  Are you sure it’s safe?” She snorted, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Palmer.  And I’ll have you know, I used to ride my bike everywhere.  I mean, I didn’t even learn to drive until I went away to college.  I didn’t need to.” They left through the front door and Felicity led him to the shed at the side of the house where her father had always kept the spare bicycles that guests of the inn could use freely.  Mounting the bikes, they rode away from the house, up Murray Hill and along the bluff overlooking Star Harbor.  “The old saying really is true,” she called to Ray where he rode a few yards ahead of her, “You know, about never forgetting how to ride a bike?  I haven’t done this in years!” His laugh carried back to her on the wind.  It felt good to do something normal, something that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember, and as the wind stung her cheeks, the plastic smile she’d put on for Ray gave way to a real one. When they paused to rest a few minutes later, she was breathing hard and her face hurt from laughing. “I can’t believe you’ve stayed away this long, Felicity,” Ray said again, “This place is …” He shook his head and the smile he gave her was full of wonder.  She felt a small fluttering in her chest.  He was an attractive man, truly, with rich dark hair and a beautiful smile.  She had been drawn to his charm and intellect.  He understood her, understood the work that she did and the way that her mind worked.  They made sense together, she and Ray, but just because they worked on paper, didn’t mean that they could love one another.  It didn’t mean that she could love him.  Felicity cleared her throat and looked away, uncomfortable with where her thoughts had suddenly wandered. The moment she realized where they had ended up, her heart jumped in her throat. “Ray, this is… this is the Queen house.  This is Queen Manor.” Unlike her parents’ home, the house where Oliver had grown up really did resemble a castle.  It’s gothic architecture and stone walls made the home seem dark and cold and even though the inside wasn’t as harsh, Felicity had never felt comfortable there. “Is that his mother?  Oliver’s, I mean.” She saw Moira Queen too late, realizing that the other woman had seen her as well and that she couldn’t leave without speaking to her. “It is.  Look, I – I really should say hello.  I’ll be just a minute if you want to wait.” Ray caught her hand, squeezing her fingers, and glanced over at Oliver’s mother. “It’s okay.  I’ll head back to the inn.  Why don’t you meet me there when you’re done?” She nodded, “I won’t be long.” The moment he’d descended the crest of Murray Hill, she turned her attention to the home where her best friend had grown up.  A home she had visited many times over.  Moira Queen was expecting her.

When Bucky wakes up, he immediately knows something is wrong. It’s partially because he’s locked up in Bruce’s safety room, sure, but he also feels like he’s waking up from a long sleep in a way he hasn’t since Steve called his name in DC. Speaking of Steve, Steve is staring at him with hard eyes and a broken nose, and that’s his last clue. He must have lost the fight against the Winter Soldier. Shame engulfs him. He looks away from Steve and asks, “What happened?” “Do you remember anything?” “Not really.” Steve looks relieved for some reason, then starts explaining. “Last night, you remembered that y—the Winter Soldier killed Tony’s parents.” Bucky reels back in shock, and memories start trickling in. Howard and Maria, Tony looking at him with dull eyes, Steve—Steve? Steve is still talking, his voice emotionless and clinical—“I decided not to tell him, but the Winter Soldier did, so he punched me in the face—” and Bucky feels a flash of irritation amid the numbness, because for all they had been talking about not hiding from their problems, Steve had not only done that but had pushed it onto Tony. Oh well. He had never really expected Steve to change. Except for he had, hadn’t he? Because the last memory he has is of Steve basically admitting to loving Tony (“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he had said, but Bucky has known Steve long enough to know that his eye twitches slightly when he’s lying), and the old Steve would never have loved someone other than Bucky. So when the doors are opened, he bolts down to the gym, and he doesn’t look at Steve. Steve, who said he loved him, but who loves Tony. Steve, who looked relieved when he said he couldn’t remember anything. Steve, who gets angry when he talks about Tony’s soulmates, and looks at Tony like he hung the sun, and crap, Bucky’s been so oblivious. He supposes it’s not something he’d have even thought to look for. But it also makes sense, in a strange kind of way, he thinks detachedly as he beats up a training dummy. Steve had thought he was gone, and Steve was here with Tony for at least a year before Bucky came back. He was here for six months before he knew Bucky was even alive. And Tony is bright and vivacious and smart and wounded, and Bucky is surprised at how fond he is of Tony even knowing that he’s taken his soulmate away. Or, well. Not exactly. Even if he didn’t know when Steve was lying, Tony is utterly incapable of it altogether. He’d know if they were doing something. Tony would never say anything anyway, too convinced of his worthlessness, and really, Tony probably doesn’t know. If Bucky is oblivious, Tony is ten times more so. And the other thing is, Steve hadn’t been lying when he said he loved Bucky. Maybe he meant like a friend, or…maybe Steve just loves both of them. Bucky knows it’s possible; after all, people in three-way bonds work it out just fine. Like Tony’s, and isn’t that just the kicker, because Steve just had to fall in love with someone already destined to be with two other people. Something nags at the back of his mind, and he can almost hear the Winter Soldier chuckle. He pushes the thought away blindly, distracting himself by idly wondering what Tony’s soulmates’ words are. Must be from the voice program, because he highly doubts sign shows up. Probably something snappy and smart like the man himself. Like “Either I’m having a visual hallucination or I should run away screaming now”—what? Bucky shakes his head. That’s…that’s Tony’s first words to him, not—okay, the news must have messed him up more than he thought. Tony isn’t his soulmate. Anyway, the point is he sort of gets why Steve fell for the guy. Why have a partially brainwashed wreck of a man when you can have—well, Tony is a wreck too, but he’s not brainwashed at least, that’s a plus. If he’s being honest with himself, he could see himself doing the same in the same situation. He thinks back to the time he called Tony ‘punk’, the banter so familiar, so comfortable that he slipped and called Tony the nickname he usually reserves for Steve. Yeah. He understands. He understands, but that doesn’t make him any less sad. He and Steve had the perfect relationship. They had to hide most of the time, sure, but in front of people who knew and understood, they were the perfect couple—the kind of sweet that made people shake their head in public and envy them in private. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, America’s sweethearts. But things change. Bucky changed. Steve has changed, as much as Bucky pretends he can’t. And maybe that was always more for him than it was for Steve. Because if Steve was the same, the same unflappable, immoveable rock, then maybe even if Bucky was broken, things could be okay. But they are both broken, and things aren’t okay. ---------------- When he goes back up to his room to change out of his sweaty clothes, his weapons are gone. All of them. He supposes he can’t blame them for feeling unsafe—he doesn’t feel safe from himself, either—but he can’t help but miss the comfort of having a knife or six at hand. He finds an additional surprise when he opens up his and Steve’s shared underwear drawer, puts on his boxers, and feels a prickling, well…everywhere. Natasha, because it must have been Natasha, had been very thorough. He storms downstairs, and Natasha just smiles calmly and says she didn’t know which ones were Steve’s, sorry. (Steve’s are on the left, with his name sewn into the label. It’s an obvious lie. He allows it, but obviously he still runs a load of laundry immediately.) A week after the whole thing, Bucky finally decides he’s ready to go downstairs and talk to Tony about what happened. But when he tries, the elevator button flashes red and refuses to move. He pauses. He guesses he’s not shocked that Tony doesn’t want to see him, the man who wears the face of his parents’ killer, but he’s not happy, either. Tony’s not going to solve anything by avoiding him—or Steve, who he understands has been blocked all along and has been well reprimanded for it by both Pepper and Rhodes. Steve keeps trying, though, doggedly keeping at it day after day, rejection after rejection, so Bucky decides he might as well do the same. At different times, though. He hasn’t really seen Steve much since it happened. He can tell Steve is hurt by it, by their empty bed. He just doesn’t know how to face him knowing that Steve is in love with someone else. But more importantly, and the real reason he’s been sleeping on a cot in the gym, is that he is terrified knowing that he could fall asleep one day and wake up the Winter Soldier, knowing that he could lose control. He can’t do that to Steve. So, even though he also knows he’s being incredibly hypocritical telling Tony to face his problems when he can’t even do the same, he sleeps in the gym next to a tranquilizer that he nicked from Natasha (sorry, Natasha, I didn’t know which one was yours!), and he stays away from Steve, and he thinks privately that maybe this is all for the best. Because maybe it doesn’t mean he gets to be happy, but at least Steve can be when he realizes that he doesn’t want Bucky anymore. And he’s not fine, but he hasn’t been fine for a while. He manages. Then, two weeks and two days after the Winter Soldier showed up, Tony lets him and Steve back into his lab.

I walked into the kitchen to find my wife Sally standing by the counter talking on the phone. I felt my self lengthen as I ran my eyes over her 5 foot 9 inch frame as she stood there in a short white pleated tennis skirt and a white peasant blouse with white three inch heals making her all ready long legs look even longer! It was easy to see that she was braless as her 36b breasts pushed out the thin white material of her top showing me her dark nipples! She smiled at me as she talked and I smiled back as I watched her nip’s grow hard under my gaze! Sally hung up the phone and went to the fridge. “Hi baby! Want a beer?” “Umm, yes that would be nice!” I said as I watched her bend over just enough to let me see the cheeks of her ass. “Say are you being sexy for me to night or did your boy friend just leave?” She smiled as she walked over to me giving me a kiss me as she sat down my beer. “Yep you walked in the front as he walked out the back! Fucked me good and hard to!” she laughed. “You ass hole you know it’s only for you!” I took her hand putting it on my bulging pants. “Well it worked! Are you wearing any panties?” “Good I very much wanted to turn you on and no I am not! Now what do you want for dinner?” She kissed me again then stepped back looking at me waiting for an answer. “You know what? Why don’t we go out?” I said as she looked at me. “Ok,” I could see her face cloud up and knew she was trying hard not to loose it after dressing just for me. “Umm ok then, I’ll go change.” She had turned away from me when I stopped her. “Wait baby! You didn’t let me finish!” Sally had not ever turned down a dare or bet in the 15 years we had been married and I was hoping that would not change now as I felt my self-dripping in my pants. “I dare you to stay dressed just as you are!” Sally turned back to me and standing with her legs spread to shoulder width she put her hands on her hips and said, “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I dare you to stay dressed just as you are and go out to dinner with me! I am saying you won’t do it!” I smile knowing I had her! She rocked from side to side as she looked at me. “It has to be worth more than just dinner, and what, well how am I going to, what if some one sees me like this? Some one we know!” “You just have to not bend over, that’s all!” I could see her thinking hard about it as she walked back over to the bar. “What else will it cost me?” I asked. “You have to take me to the beach tomorrow!” Fuck I hate the beach! “Done!” I stuck out my hand and she shook it. “And you can pick the restaurant and it can be dark if you want!” I smiled at her as I finished my beer and stood up. “I will give you that!” I really thought Sally would be a little shyer than she turned out to be as she picked up her purse. “Do I need this?” “Nope lets go!” and I was right when we got to the door! “I don’t know Sam!” she lifted up the back of her dress showing me her bare ass cheeks as she stopped and stood in front of me. “I really don’t have anything on!” “Well ok, wait right here!” I rushed back to our bedroom and to her panty drawer. I knew what I was looking for and found them right away stuffed into the back of the dresser. I almost ran back into the hallway! “Ok come with me!” I was so excited I was trembling as we walked out to my truck. Stopping at the passenger’s door I held out the T-back thong panties I had picked out for her! They were made of white silk and very tine! In fact the last time I has seen her in them they just covered the front of her slit not going up over her pubic mound at all and the back was nothing more than a string! “You can wear these if you want to but you have to either put them on here out in the parking lot of the restaurant or the bet is off!” “Honey!” Sally looked around and all though the truck was in our drive way the house next door had a good view of us standing there talking. Her breathing had changed making her breasts move on her chest as she looked past me at the neighbors’ house! “Nope that’s the bet!” Sally got a defiant look in her eyes as she looked at my cock straining to get out of my pants. “You really are liking this aren’t you?” She looked around again then back at me and looking me in the eye she pulled her skirt up high around her waist fully exposing her closely trimmed blond bush and ass to any one looking as she stepped one leg at a time into the panties and pulled them up! She held her skirt up as she adjusted them and then smiled at me as she let it fall into place! “Is that what you wanted?” “God Sally! Yes!” She opened the truck door and made a big deal of getting as I watched her pull her skirt up high so I could see her little panties as she sat there. We talked about the day’s events as we drove to the restaurant never bringing up how she was dressed or that it was really turning me on and it wasn’t until I pulled into the driveway she realized it was vale parking! Sally looked at me with a question on her face and when all I did was smile at her she smiled shaking her head and left her skirt bunched up so her panties and long legs on display as I pulled to a stop! I watched the young mans face as he rushed up to open the truck door for her and almost tripped as he got a look at my wife’s panties and exposed pussy showing through them as she opened her legs! “Thank you.” She breathed as she stuck her leg out to the ground not closing them until her toes lightly touch the concrete and she slipped out! His eyes went to her breasts as she let her skirt fall into place and smoothed it out as she waited for me to get around to her! Her cheeks were flushed as I kissed her softly and with trembling hands hooked her arm in mine as we walked into the place. Sally was quiet as we waited for our table and as I looked around I only saw one person looking at her and it was a lady. When we had been seated she looked at me. “Umm, is there something I need to know about all of this? I mean we have been married for a lot of years and I have never seen you like this!” “Well, you know I have always liked it when you would wear skimpy things for me.” “I know but not like this!” She put her hand on top of mine on the table. “Sam do you want me to expose my self to other men?” She moved over a chair setting next to me. “Is this what this is all about?” She got a shocked look on her face. “Oh God! Do you want me to fuck other guys?” “NO!” I looked around not wanting to be heard. “No way is any one to touch you but me,” I looked into her eyes. “But it just makes me crazy hot thinking of you showing off like this! It has always been something I have wanted you to do but I didn’t want you to think, well what your thinking! Sally I am so worked up I could cum in my pants!” Our drinks came and as the waiter sat them on the table he couldn’t take his eyes from her breasts! Sally leaned back giving him a better look as she smiled up at him before he turned to walk away. She looked back at me. Is that what you wanted?” “Yes!” I breathed “She leaned into me kissing me softly. “If I told you I liked it what would you say?” “I love you!” “Well I am very, very wet and I don’t know if I can wait to get home!” “Then lets don’t!” I stood up. “Come on we can get something later!” I threw some money on the table and watched as Sally stood up not pushing her dress down in back leaving her naked ass exposed until she had taken a couple of steps and then she smiled at me as she adjusted it! We walked out and the kid had not even moved my truck yet it was happening so fast! Sally waited for him to open her door and as she sat down gave him the same show just in reverse letting him look at her crotch as she put her left leg in and with just enough hesitation she lifted up the other smiling at him like she didn’t know what she was doing! I didn’t even have us out of the drive way as she pulled my stiff cock out of my pants and started to slowly pull on it. “Tell me about this new game, my love.” She said as I tried to think about driving and not her hand! “I don’t know sweet hart! I just like the idea some one might get a look at you that’s all! I mean to night might have been a little over the top but god I loved it! I mean did you see what you did to that kid!” I looked to the side to see Sally smiling. “He was a little excited!” she said. “A little! Hell he will be pounding it for a month thinking about you!” “Pull over!” I did as she asked stopping under some trees as she slipped off the little panties letting them fall into the floorboard. “Slide over here!” She said and as I did she lifted up and slid over me still facing the front. “I want you in me!” Was all she said as she took my cock in her hand and guided it into her soaking wet hole! Sally was trembling as she sat down on me taking me all the way to her womb in one long slow move! “Oh god!” came from her as I hit bottom and I could feel her fingers as she started pulling on her own clit! She leaned forward putting one hand on the dash pushing me even deeper into her hot love canal as she began to milk me with her pussy muscles! She wasn’t moving on me at all and didn’t need to as she pulled on and then strummed her clit with her finger! “Oh god Sammy you have made me a slut! Oh baby I am so close! Wanting to show it o, o ohhh godddd! Yeessss baby! OHHHhhhhhhh shit! Fuck me!” She lifted up off of me just enough to give me room to pump into her as she came her juices leaking out over my dick and down my balls! “Yes that’s it baby fuck me! Oohhhhhh!” I pistoned into her as the cars and trucks sped past us on the road! “I’m coming Sally! OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I pushed as deep into my wife as I could trying to push my cum into her belly! “Ooohhh god!” Rope after rope of my hot seed shot into her and mixed with her own juices as she leaned on the dash with one hand and tried to turn to kiss me! “Oh holed me sweet hart!” She said as my dick spurted the last gob of my love into her! I cupped her breasts as she leaned back into my chest and I kissed the back of her neck. We sat like that as my cock grew soft and slipped out of her and our mixed juices ran from her and over my balls! Sally kissed me as she slipped off of my lap. “Well I guess we have some things to talk about when we get home then don’t we?” she said with a smile as I moved back behind the wheel! “Yes I guess we do!”

© 2006 by Mike Yevchekov All rights reserved. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic means, including photocopying, recording or by any information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author. * Opening: My name is Steve and moved in with my girlfriend about four months ago. Heather is as close to perfect as anyone can become, and yes I do realize how lucky I am having a woman like her in my life. She's sexy and intelligent and man does she love sex. Heather is around five four with a small frame, and I think B Cups. She has curly hair just past her shoulders. Now there is one issue. She has a roommate: Ruth. It's not that she's a problem but it's kind of a challenge moving in with two people and I'm sure that Ruth has seen and heard more then she cares for, but I have a gut feeling Ruth is enjoying the show. Ruth is also a very pretty woman and has a killer body. She also has B Cup breasts and her hair is longer and a little lighter then Heathers. Since we started hanging around Ruth has opened up more, moving away from the quiet type to becoming little bit of an exhibitionist. She even purchased one of those tan through bikini's and all winter she has been modeling it for us. On Monday Heather had to fly out on a business trip. Every now and then she has to go visit clients. It's funny, the first couple times that you have to travel for work can be fun but then it becomes a major pain. While Heather is away Ruth and I alternate on cooking dinner. Some nights, I simply order pizza as I'm not a good cook. Both Ruth and Heather are fabulous cooks. Wednesday was Ruth's turn to cook. This week had been especially long and every night I had to bring work home with me. Ruth knocked on my door, "Hey, would you like something to eat?" Wow, she looked freaking hot. Ruth was wearing a rose color cami with spaghetti straps. In her defense she was wearing a sheer jacket. "Sure, thanks." "Well, since Heather's not here I guess it's my job to take care of you." That really got my attention and started to check her out. Damn, did she look hot in her almost sheer nightie that did little to conceal her curves, tight where it needed to be tight and loose around her hips. Ruth's nipples were clearly visible, and I didn't see any visible panty lines. Why did she have wear that? The cami was about three inches below her sweat pussy and now she was on my mind. Wow, this is the first time that I've really noticed her legs. Man, did her legs look smooth and soft. Ruth started cooking dinner. She makes it look so easy. Now, I don't know if she was teasing me or not, but Ruth was not very careful about her cami. Oh, she was showing me lots of leg and a few times most of her butt. Man did she have a nice butt! We all enjoy the beach, well Heather and Ruth love the beach and I love seeing them in bikinis. So far, this is the most that I've seen of Ruth. We sat down and enjoyed a great dinner. We made small talk and I did my best not to make an ass out of my self. Oh I was excited, and very aroused. All nighty, I've enjoyed taking Ruth in, seeing her in that sexy cami. After I finished a dinner, Ruth smiled and asked, "Hey, want to watch a movie?" Ruth has always been friendly with me, a little flirty at times. Heather never said anything nor did she seem concerned. I placed my hand on her arm, "Sure." "I rented this movie, when I was at blockbuster. The plot seems interesting." Walking away, I let go of her arm. Ruth walked over and put the movie in. Then, she came over and sat next to me. "Hey, why don't we get comfortable?" Slowly she lifted up her foot, placed it on my chest and pushed me back. Oh she was not wearing panties. Talk about becoming uncomfortable, I only hoped she didn't see my cock as it started becoming erect. Her legs were in front of mine as I rested against the couch. Our heads were resting on the head rests. Her thigh kept bushing against me and now I'm sure she could feel me. Man, Ruth was looking hot, lying on her side, her nightie riding up showing me all of her legs and her part of her firm butt. The movie was R rated but this couple was hot and heavy. The plot was a little light but the actors were attractive. "Look at that slut, she's not wearing a bra." "Nice!" "What, that? You think so? Why?" "Please, you can almost see her breasts." "And you like that?" "Sure. Don't you?" She looked confused by my question and pondered the thought. She looked at the screen, at me, and then back at the screen. "Well, kind of." "And why not? She's attractive just like you are. Being a man, I love to see women and her mini skit and almost sheer blouse, well it's very naughty. "And you don't mind that her breasts are fake?" Nope, after all she's not my wife. Sure it's easy to tell her tits are fake but I still love to look." "Don't you like the real thing?" She started to tease me by massaging her breasts." "Oh I love checking you out." "Do you think I have nice tits?" Cupping her breasts with her hands, almost offering them to me. "Love seeing your hard nipples." "Really as much as hers?" "I don't know, why don't you show me yours?" "What?" She playfully sat up and hit me. Her nightie pulled up as she moved and she was sitting bare ass on the sofa. "Be honest, like you don't enjoy having me check you out, be honest!" "You enjoy checking me out?" "Get real girl," placed my hand on her thigh. "I think you know the answer." "No, I don't." Ruth put her hands and the arm rest behind her, to support herself. Her nightie was very tight and her breasts were almost being squished. I took a deep breath, about to reveal a dark secret something that could change our relationship. "You look so hot. The way your curly hair rests on your face, hiding your eyes, the way your nightie is a second skin, your nipples showing though." Ruth leaned back resting against the arm rest and corner of the sofa. Her pussy hair started to show. She had to know she was showing me. "I'm blushing. Go on." "Please, look at you, you're a hottie." She looked down at her body her voice pitched, "Really? You think so? Then why don't I have a man?" She crossed her legs, drawing my attention and thinking about holding her, to put my hand on her hopefully wet pussy. "I don't know, but I would love to be your man and take you to bed. Make you feel like a woman, over and over again." Her foot felt soft and she rubbed it up and down my leg. Next, she looked up at me, "really? Please tell me more." Ruth started to squeeze her legs together, I'm sure this put a little pressure against her clit. "What would you want to do to me?" "For starters, I would love to lick and kiss you by starting at your toes, and work my way to your nipples. Only my warm breath against your nipples, making sure that my tongue and lips did not touch you." "Now who is the tease?" She started to rub my thigh with her foot. Her eyes quickly focused on my cock. Slowly her toes danced around my cock, gently touching it. "Is that from me?" "Yes." "Good, cuz I'm wet and didn't want to be the only one uncomfortable." There was a loud splash that caught our attention. In the movie the main couple heads up to the mountains and finds a hot spring. They jump in, nude. This movie was not helping at all as the actress was smoking. Ruth was starting to squirm and moved on her back. I swear her hips were rocking as we watched this couple kissing passionately. Ruth was taking deep breaths, as she inhaled her nightie was a second skin. Then, Ruth started to massage her breasts. I split my attention from the screen to her. Watching her was far more erotic! Shockley, she moved her hand between her legs. "I've always wanted to watch someone. Did you know that I can hear you two?" "Really?" Her eyes focused on me as she openly masturbated feet away from me. "Oh don't be, its hot. I think about how Heather looks as you fuck her." "Wow." "Can't tell you how many times I wanted to walk into your bedroom and watch you two. "I don't know what to say." "Yea, that would be so hot. To watch you make love to her, see how you give her pleasure and to watch Heather cum." "Wow, I didn't know." "Is that bad?" "No, you really want to watch?" She took a deep breath, "Yes. Oh I have to stop before I cum." Time for me to turn the heat up as I started to massage Ruth's feet, "Why? Don't stop." "Oh, I loved being kissed like that. Do you?" Time to step things up a little, placed my hand on her knee. "Yes, very much so." "That is what sucks about being single, no one to kiss. That is what I miss the most." "Oh and your other needs?" "That part is easy," she looked down almost embarrassed. "It's easy for a girl to have toys this day an age." "Really?" "Yea, you don't believe me?" "Nope!" Her excitement peeked, "Wanna bet?" "Sure." She jumped up. "Are you game for this game is for a man, no boys allowed." Now she had my goat. "If you don't have any toys then you have to spend the rest of the night nude." "Easy, but only if I do," She took a deep breath. "I get to watch you jack off." "What?" "Oh come on you're a guy and surely you've jacked off a million times all ready. So, this should be no big deal for you. and besides, I've never watched a guy before." "Really?" "Yea, so are you game or chicken?" "You have a bet." We shook hands. She stood up and grabbed my hand. "You better come with me." With that said, Ruth led me up to her room. I started to feel taken. Ruth didn't seem to be the type to walk into a toy store and purchase something. "Since I have had to endure many nights of listening to Heather cum over and over again, I ordered some things to help me through those nights." Damn, the internet as I didn't think about that. She could purchase things and not have to visit any store. Ruth started to light some candles and her bedroom had this warm glow as she turned off the lights. "I want you to be comfortable." She pulled out some of her toys. Her first toy was a silver bullet. Ok, that was expected. Next, she pulled out a rabbit, "I really like this one. Love how it feels in me and the beads start to spin." "Really?" She turned it on to show me. "Why don't you get more comfortable as I want to see all of you." A bet is a bet and I had to pay up. Embarrassed as my cock was all ready growing, and now it was very noticeable. Standing up, my eyes were glued on her waiting for a reaction which came in a big smile as her eyes were glued on my stiff cock. "Don't worry, I have some more toys and will show you all of them when were ready." This girl knew how to push my buttons. Now I really wanted to see what she had. I removed my shirt and then my shorts and boxers. My cock fully hard pointing to the ceiling. "Very nice!" She moved over to me and gave me a quick lick. Holding my cock she turned her face to look up at me, "I like big cocks, wonder if Heather will ever share that with me." "Oh, you're such a tease." "Yep! So anyways, I have yet to take this one." She pulled out this nine inch life like dildo. "I just had to have it; it looks so freaking hot on the web site." "Oh my god, that is freaky." "You think? Feel it, it's so soft. It's from cyberskin. "No way. "Oh don't be gay, it's not a real cock." She started to stroke it, like she was masturbating some man. "Still, I can't." "I'll let you use it on me, if you touch it?" Ruth made a circle with her thing and index finger, pretending to slide it in her. Damn, that was freaking how! Now the envelope was being pushed. Was this too much? Oh, I had to see her take that thing, how erotic to watch that thing in her. Ruth looked at me, smiled, and then pulled the cami over her head. She was not sitting nude, right before my eyes. The room began to spin, making it hard for me to breath. Ruth teased me a little, "I want this thing big and fat." She leaned back against the bed propping herself with pillows. Holding the cyberskin, she moved it up her chest to her chin, toying with it. Holding the cock inches from her lips, kissed it, and started to slide the toy down to her pussy. Her lips were wet, parted, and she started to take the fake cock in her wet pussy. "Do you like watching me?" My cock was rock hard and aching for some attention. Reaching over, I grabbed her massage oil, put some on my hand and moved next to her. Our shoulders were touching and we could watch each other. I wanted to watch the toy sliding in and out of her pussy. So after a minute I moved next to her, sitting Indian style. This way, I can watch her fucking herself and she could still see me. Her eyes were glued on my hand, sliding my hand up and down my stiff cock. "That is so hot! I've never watched a man before." Since Ruth has an eight inch dildo in her, I didn't think she was conservative. Her eyes were glued on my hand, so with my other hand I reached out and felt her breast. She looked up at me and smiled. Rolling her nipples through my fingers, Ruth smiled at me. Her breasts were soft, her nipples hard, and it all felt good. "I really want to watch you cum. How far do you shoot?" She looked at my body then back to my cock, "Will you cum on me? That's it baby cum on me, I want to feel you're hot cum." I'm sure Ruth was only saying that for my pleasure, and was it working. It's always so erotic to hear a woman talk dirty. Since I was towering over Ruth, I knew my cum would be all over her. Talk about a mental rush, cumming all over my friend. She seemed ok with that and was even asking me to do that. after all this was her dirty idea and I'm going to take full advantage of it. Tonight, I've seen Ruth nude and use a toy. Women, look so sexy when they are nude, and even erotic when they are about to cum. I wanted to enjoy this moment so I moved along side her. My head was close to her pussy. Women love to stay prim and proper but when they are aroused the legs part and I was enjoying the view. Ruth had her legs apart as I slide the cyberskin dildo into her. This thing was big and thick. Talk about a mental rush, watching the head enter her waiting wet pussy. The silver bullet was lying against her, with my other hand I grabbed it and struggled to turned it on. Ruth's eyes grew big as she watched me. With my other hand, I guided and pushed the cyberskin deep into her. Then placed the silver bullet on her clit. Ruth closed her eyes and started to really enjoy the experience. I think she was close, too close. She didn't open her eyes. She let go of the dildo and I controlled her pleasure. I kept the dildo in her as the silver bullet worked her clit. Ruth was on fire, fully enjoying the attention. Oh, and I was focused on her. "Oh god, I'm going to cum!" The cybercock stayed deep in her, allowing her pussy to grip it. Her pussy was so wet making sexy sounds as the silver bullet vibrated on her clit. "That feels so good." My focus was only on her clit. I can't believe that my roommate, this sexy woman, lying on her back, nude, and being fucked by the dildo in my hand. With my other hand, I massaged her clit with a silver bullet vibrator. Looking up at Ruth, I noticed that her eyes where still closed. Her breaths were shallow and fast. She was so close, oh yea she's about to cum! In a deep voice, almost demanding, "That's it baby, fuck me with that thing!" Ruth reached out, grabbed my hand holding the silver bullet. She held tight, now allowing my hand to move. "That's it baby, I'm cumming!" I watched as the orgasm took control over her body. Her body convulsed with pleasure. Ruth shook, and let out some sexy sounds. She looked so hot, cumming with me holding the toys on her most intimidate of parts. After two minutes or so, Ruth came back to earth. Her eyes slowly opened, "that was soo good." "I'm glad that you enjoyed it." "Oh yea. I loved it. Can I feel you? "Sure." Slowly, tentatively she reached out. Her small soft hands wrapped around my very hard cock. I moved up, closer to her, straddled her stomach. Now, she had easy access. Ruth placed some oil on her hands and started to massage me. "I'm going to make you cum." She grabbed the oil and put some on her hands. Next, she grabbed my cock and started to massage my painfully hard cock. "I bet you want to fuck me don't you?" "Yes, just as much as you want me to." "Touché. To be honest, I do miss the feeling of a hard cock in me. Oh, and after I cum I love getting fucked hard." No time like the present to see how far our friendship had evolved, reached down and started playing with her breasts. Something sexy about them, her chest was still flushed and nipples rock hard. "Do you like how I feel?" "Very much so." "I was serious; I want you to cum all over my tits." "That will not be a problem." Ruth started to work her hands faster, with a steady beat she started to stroke my cock. Wondered what song she was listening to in her head. Faster and a little stronger she would stroke me. "So, are you going to allow me to watch you fuck Heather?" "Oh yes, that will be hot." "I can't want to see, this fat cock of yours in her tight, wet, pussy." "One rule, you have to be nude to watch." Ruth eyes grew big, "Really?" I knew she wanted to watch and her reaction confirmed that she wanted to. Now, how do I get Heather in this little game? Heather has always been very open when it comes to sex, and she loves to masturbate for me. She even made a few comments about some hot actresses, so maybe she's open to this after all. Man, it was so hard to think from what Ruth was doing with my cock. All I wanted to do was guide my cock into her sexy mouth. Wonder how those lips would feel, wrapped around my cock. To have her suck me, her wet tongue flicking and sliding up and down my shaft. "Oh god," I was so close. Thinking about her and what I want to do to her. Thinking about having Heather join us in and pushing the envelope. "I'm going to cum." "That's it baby, cum all over me." Ruth gave me a couple fast strokes as the first stream shot out and landed on her hair. The second stream landed on her face. Ruth worked everything out of me, allowing me to enjoy the moment and come back to reality. I looked down, she looked so sexy. This was the first time that I've ever cum on a woman like this. Heather would normally suck me off, but Ruth seemed to enjoy having cum on her. I'm sure it was for my benefit as she started to play with it. She grabbed a Kleenex and started to clean herself up. "Well, that was fun!" "Yea that was. You were great." Ruth sat up, still being nude she looked confident, and didn't try to cover up. "Well, I guess this is going to change things." "Kind of, were both adults and have a wild side." She smiled and looked excited with her face glowing, "Exactly." "We did push the boundaries but didn't go over the line. I think Heather would love to have you watch us." "Oh that would be hot." I hugged her, "Yea, so we just have to be careful and work on expanding our relationship." "I couldn't agree more." We both stood up and walked to the bathroom to clean up. "So tell me Ruth. Do you want to bed my girl?" "Not sure, I've never been with a woman before. Heather is so smart and sexy that who knows." "I hear you; we can't plan this just have to let things happen." One of the most important things that I've learned about women, adult situations have to happen and can't be forced. So I knew this would have to play out on its own; however, I could help things along. "So true. Hey, should we watch that movie now?" "Sure." We both dressed and went back to the family room to watch the movie. That was about it for the night. * please tell me what you think, and vote!

*** Entering the gates to Ghost City, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng strolled down the gaudy and brightly lit main street. They had not yet let go of one another, though Hua Cheng had made some changes on their walk. He donned a different skin tonight, the youthful one Xie Lian had met him in. The one who told him to call him San Lang on a creaky cart filled with hay. Xie Lian was fond of this one. Xie Lian knew that Hua Cheng preferred not to show his true self in front of too many people. Though, ever since he met that true self in the Gambler’s Den, Hua Cheng seemed to have no problem with showing it in front of others as long as Xie Lian was by his side. It made his heart flutter to think of it.  Coming back to the Ghost Realm was wonderful. He hadn’t visited since Hua Cheng left, preferring to keep to his cottage and wait. But some of the residents had popped in on him for tea now and then, bringing general chaos and noise and excessive exclaiming about how exotic it was to eat rice.  Xie Lian wasn’t fooled- he knew Hua Cheng had probably told them to visit- but he still appreciated it nonetheless. It was always a pleasant reminder of the richness of the world, and how he, a humble 800 year old Scrap God, still had so many new and exciting things to learn and experience. In many ways, the Mortal Realm could be a tad…unimaginative. There was a reason Xie Lian struggled with his memory. So many of his days were consumed with what everyone’s days were consumed with as a living human: survival. The drive to keep living, despite the guarantee no one would forever, even Gods. It could become monotonous. To some degree, it felt like a waste of potential. The Ghost Realm, however, was a prime example of what one could do when staying alive was no longer the goal of existence.  It was wild, and creative, and funny, and indulgent; completely unrestrained by moderation. There was no such thing as too much or too little of anything: danger, food, beauty, dark magic, ugliness, violence, greed, lust, anger all existed purely for their own sake. Those things were not needed, so instead, they were revelled in. After all, one could only become a ghost if one decided there was something more important than surviving. Xie Lian didn’t think it was hell. It was magical. How could it not be, with Hua Cheng at the helm? He was a little embarrassed at how he’d reacted when Hua Cheng got back. He knew he shouldn’t worry and be so clingy. It’s just that he missed him. And he hadn’t realised he’d missed Ghost City too. It didn’t take long for citizens to spot them. “IT’S TRUE! MY LORD! YER LORDSHIP! IT’S THE LORD, LOOK, IT’S THE LORD-” “PIG GODS AND PIG GUTS!!! IT’S CHENGZHU, CHENGZHU REALLY IS BACK-” “HE’S BACK, HE’S BACK, GO GET THE GAMBLING MONEY!” “GRAND UNCLE IS HERE! IT’S CHENGZHU’S FRIEND! THE ONE WITH THE BROKEN PENI-” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SPENT THE GAMBLING MONEY-” A crowd formed, all elbows and shoves and a few hooves and feathers. Xie Lian spotted a three eyed pelican-woman and the boar-headed Butcher Zhu, both of whom had visited him. He bowed in greeting. They practically prostrated on the cobblestones in reverence. “GRAND-UNCLE, YOU’RE HERE WITH CHENGZHU, YOU’VE REUNITED-” “GRAND UNCLE KNOWS US, SEE, HE SAW US, WE’VE BEEN TO HIS PALACE, WE’RE CLOSE PERSONAL FRIENDS-” “Yes, yes,” laughed Xie Lian. “Your Lord Chengzhu and I are back, and it’s good to see you all!” He looked around happily. Hua Cheng surveyed them indifferently, arms folded. “I believe I called for a festival, did I not?” he said, voice arch. A chorus of “OF COURSE!” and “NOTHING LESS THAN A WEEK OF CELEBRATION, YER LORDSHIP!” filled the air as yet more heads and eyes and beaks poked out of various market stalls. Hua Cheng looked around, as the crowd stilled.  “My instructions were clear. This festival is not just for me, it is for the Crown Prince of Xianle as well. He will be given anything he wishes. He is my guest, and will be treated as such. Is that understood?” Xie Lian gulped. The crowd nodded and exclaimed eagerly, shouting and trilling and clucking.  “Good.” Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow, and the crowd fell silent. “Then celebrate.” The crowd erupted.  Hua Cheng took him by the hand again, and they moved with the wave of enthusiastic ghosts wanting to ply him with food and drink and well wishes and all manner of things that even his iron stomach could not possibly handle.  He lost himself in a giddy whirlwind of greetings and “SIR, ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT THIS POTION TO FIX THAT PROBLEM FOR YOU, SO YOU AND CHENGZHU CAN REALLY CONSUMMATE-” and “HE DOESN’T WANT THAT STICKY MESS, YOU BONEHEAD-” and “BULL SEMEN IS MEANT TO BE STICKY, YOU POINTLESS IDIOT, MORTALS EAT IT, I’VE SEEN IT WITH MY OWN EYESTALKS-” After his eighth “Hahaha, well thank you, that does look lovely but I couldn’t possibly-” Hua Cheng finally intervened. “Scram,” he ordered, and they obeyed.  Suddenly free of the surrounding melee, Xie Lian looked up at Hua Cheng as he confidently steered them towards their usual ‘Delicacies of the Mortal Realm’ shop.  They took a seat at their table by the window. Xie Lian did a double take as he realised the crowd had not in fact scrammed, but simply moved to congregate just far enough across the street that it could theoretically seem to be a casual gathering, if it weren’t for the fact there were a hundred of them crammed into an area half the size of his cottage. It was odd to see a hundred beings all determinedly pretending that they weren’t looking at them. A few of them had poured themselves drinks and taken out binoculars. Hua Cheng followed his eyes and opened his mouth to clearly tell them to get lost again, but Xie Lian shook his head. “Let them,” he said quietly. “It’s nice, and they don’t mean any harm.” Hua Cheng’s eyes flickered back to his, and his lips quirked. “Very well. Though they’ll be there all night if you let them.” “Aren’t there other things happening?” “We are the things happening, as far as they are concerned.” “I meant… there’ll be the Gambler’s Den, and street food and revelry, right?” Hua Cheng parked his chin in his hands, gazing at him. “Mmm. If that is what you want, gege.” Xie Lian found, oddly, that he missed Hua Cheng’s eyepatch. It felt strange to look into two eyes again. Hua Cheng had all the expressions and mischief he could ever need in one eye. Xie Lian shook his head fondly, though he watched Hua Cheng under his lashes as he ordered them some food. Hua Cheng was being a little strange. He seemed completely himself, the first night. But he kept… Xie Lian wasn’t sure what it was. His gaze went far away sometimes. And his face went careful sometimes. Xie Lian thought maybe something was wrong in Ghost City, but he had been doing it in the morning too, before he left. So it probably wasn’t that. But as they sat together companionably, he realised with a slow creep that if something was wrong… Hua Cheng wouldn’t tell him.  If anything…he would lie.  He didn’t really mind the little lies, like back when when he pretended to be Lang Ying, or when he didn’t really let on that they’d met, or when he pretended he didn’t know where they were to try to steer him away from the Cave of 10,000 Gods…Hua Cheng had reasons for that. Hua Cheng wanted to protect him, and help him, and Xie Lian probably would have reacted badly if he received all of that information at once. He wouldn’t change any part of their story, including the parts that weren’t always honest. But now… Now was different. He realised that it bothered him, the idea of Hua Cheng lying to him. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to know what Hua Cheng actually wanted, and thought. He didn’t want to be placated, pleased, catered to. He wanted Hua Cheng to just be his proud, arrogant, rude, jealous, sulky, whiny, slightly unstable, beautiful and perfect self, not… Not this careful, smoothly guarded person. That was for other people. Xie Lian stifled a sigh. This was so very strange. How was it possible for him to love someone so thoroughly, completely, and yet feel as if there were parts of him he didn’t even know how to ask about?  In reality, they’d really only known each other for a cumulative total of a few weeks. He didn’t feel any doubt about his feelings, but it did knock his confidence somewhat. He had a lot to learn about Hua Cheng, and no idea how to start. Who had he been, all these years? Xie Lian scolded himself. Hua Cheng would tell him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, in his own time. It was not for him to demand anything after everything Hua Cheng had done for him. Hua Cheng deserved to be loved unconditionally. Which Xie Lian did. He just hadn’t figured out a way to…tell him that. Or make him believe him when he did. Hua Cheng was always far too hard on himself. “Is Gege alright?” said Hua Cheng, chin still in his hands. Xie Lian straightened up. “Of course!” he lied. “It’s just…this mortal food is a little…plain.” Hua Cheng raised his eyebrows, looking down at the spicy porridge. It was bright red and the steam alone made Xie Lian’s eyes water. “Plain?” “GRAND UNCLE, DID YOU SAY THE FOOD IS NOT TO YOUR LIKING?” yelled one of the residents across the street, who had been using an ear-trumpet. “Ah…well, I enjoy quite a strong taste!” called Xie Lian. “GRAND-UNCLE’S PALATE MUST BE SUBLIME! THIS UNWORTHY HOST COULD NOT POSSIBLY HOPE TO MATCH IT!” said the chef, who had served them their congee and then sprinted outside in terror to join the crowd. “His Highness is an exceptional cook,” called Hua Cheng. “You could never hope to be so lucky as to taste his concoctions. Each is unique. One of a kind.” The crowd burst into excited murmurs as Xie Lian scratched his head in embarrassment. ‘WON’T GRAND-UNCLE SHOW US HOW TO MAKE DIVINE FOOD WORTHY OF HIS EXCEPTIONAL MOUTH-HOLE? YOU CAN USE MY STALL!” “NO, HE CAN USE MINE- I HAVE THE BEST EEL GUTS ANYWAY-” “NO, MINE! NO ONE ELSE IN THE GHOST REALM CARRIES FINER TESTICLES-” Xie Lian paused. Now that was an interesting idea. Well. Not the testicles part. “Gege?” “Mmm,” he said, eyes on the crowd. “What are you thinking?” “Well, it would actually be quite fun, don’t you think? I’ve always thought it would be enjoyable to work in a restaurant! But no one ever let me, with my luck.” Hua Cheng appeared to bite the inside of his cheek. “A restaurant.” “En. And you said it was my festival too.” Hua Cheng’s brows twitched. “I did,” he said slowly. “Why not have a little bit of fun then?” said Xie Lian brightly. “Just for the night. A one off. To say thanks to your citizens for their patience.” Hua Cheng’s mouth twisted slightly. “I do not thank my citizens. They are lucky I allow their wretched souls in this city at all.” “You don’t fool me, San Lang. You like them. And I like them! So…let’s do something for them.”  “Both of us?” “How could I cook without my assistant?”  Hua Cheng sighed longsufferingly. For effect. With breath he didn’t need. “Alright then.” Xie Lian’s eyes scrunched into crescents. “Wonderful. Shall we commandeer this shop? It probably has all the ingredients I’m…most used to.”  “Mmm. Though gege should feel free to let me know if he needs me to source any species of testicles.” Xie Lian cleared his throat. “That won’t be necessary.” Hua Cheng nodded, and turned to the window. “Scram, and come back in an hour. The Crown Prince will be using this shop to provide a feast!” The crowd positively exploded. He felt a hum of excitement.  This could actually be fun! *** It was not.  After an incense time, Xie Lian had bitten off more than he could chew. True, he’d borrowed the giant pot the chicken-ghost typically stewed himself in, so quantity was not an issue. However, the stew was looking…well. It had oscillated between the consistency of concrete and brick dust.  “More water!” he called frantically, as Hua Cheng ambled infuriatingly casually back with a newly filled tub. “It will be alright gege. Think of this as the paste from which we’ll make the stew.” “It wasn’t meant to be a paste,” panted Xie Lian as he tried to stir the pot with a wooden spoon the size of an oar. Hua Cheng emptied the tub into the pot and moved delicately out of the way to avoid the resulting sparks, circling back behind a sweating Xie Lian. Hands came around his waist. He stilled. “It smells good,” said Hua Cheng from behind him, only choking a little. “Really?” said Xie Lian hopefully, leaning his head to tuck in under Hua Cheng’s chin as his heart sped up.  “En. It will be delicious. And they will love whatever you serve, because you are the one serving it.” Xie Lian made a noise in his throat and avoided the urge to hide his face in Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “But I want them to like the food, not just lie to my face!” Hua Cheng widened his eyes. “What do you mean. Gege? His Highness could not serve a bad meal if he tried,” he said innocently. He huffed. “San Lang, you are lying to me. You don’t think there’s anything I’m bad at? Even cooking?” Hua Cheng’s eyes widened even more. “Your highness, you are the best cook. In the worlmmpph-” Xie Lian had covered his mouth with his hand. Hua Cheng’s eyes flicked down in surprised amusement at his hand on his mouth. Xie Lian gulped and tried not to think about how soft Hua Cheng’s lips felt. “No lying. I know what my food is like.”  He had his reasons. The shackle on his neck had always made food quite difficult to taste. And even if that weren’t true, he liked to remember his mother this way. She was always horrific at cooking, but wanted nothing more than people to enjoy it. He liked his food. He just wanted others to like it too, like her. He took his hand off his mouth. Hua Cheng gave him a dangerously sweet smile and raised his hands in mock-surrender. His gaze was warm, and fixed. Xie Lian swallowed, remembering kissing him in the water and how icy cold and hot he’d been all at once. “Let’s just get through this,” he sighed, dropping his gaze and dodging the thermonuclear geysers erupting in the pot. *** There was a moderately violent line starting to form, snaking around the corner (literally; there was an actual snake hissing at everyone on the corner). Xie Lian could hear the general clamour and mayhem from outside the steamy kitchen, and swallowed. Time to get this over with. He stood wiping his brow, eyeing the vat. “I think this is as good as it’s going to get,” he said mournfully. It was several colours at once, somehow, with darker green spots amongst the bright sludgy brown and yellow. Hua Cheng’s fingers brushed his waist, looming behind him again. “It will be good,” he said firmly. “Shall I take it out?” “I suppose. It’ll be memorable, if nothing else.” “They’re privileged just to touch something you worked on.” Xie Lian shook his head. “Let’s not say that until we know they survived the night,” he said grimly. Hua Cheng raised his hand and beckoned toward the vat, which rose and followed him outside. Xie Lian stacked a wobbling, waving tower of bowls so high he stopped and thought ‘Xie Lian, you can’t do this,’ until he remembered there was at least an even chance he wouldn’t drop them. He proceeded outside, smiling quietly to himself at his change in fortune. He only dropped five. The horde was hungry, figuratively and literally. A cheer built as they set up, and Xie Lian straightened, wiping his hands on his apron.  “GRAND UNCLE, MAY I BE THE FIRST TO HAVE THE HONO-” “NO WAY YOU GREASER, DON’T GIVE IT TO HIM, HE STEALS THINGS-” “CHENGZHU’S WIFE SHOULD DEFINITELY CHOOSE US-” “WIFE? USE YOUR EYES, HE’S A MALE HUMAN-” “CHENGZHU’S EUNUCH SHOULD DEFINITELY CHOOSE US-” “Hahaha, there there!” laughed Xie Lian awkwardly. “There’s plenty for everyone, please stay orderly!”  “Perhaps I can offer myself for the first try,” came a strange, lilting voice. Xie Lian felt, more than saw, Hua Cheng twitch slightly to his left. He kept his face impassive, noticing that the crowd had quieted and parted slightly around the figure. They approached quietly, light footed and lithe. They were a tall figure, looking almost like a human, long haired and long limbed, except for the fact their limbs were scaled; silvery and winking in the light of the lanterns.  Their face was angular and cold, eyes dark. What set them fully apart was their hair. Ink black and cascading down their back, it would look like the beautiful hair of any human, were it not for the fact that it…floated. Moved slowly, in a ripple. Out of sync with the rest of them, like it was underwater. Xie Lian knew the world well enough. This was a demon. A powerful one. “Welcome back to Ghost City, your respective Highnesses,” they said, bowing. Hua Cheng’s arms were folded in their usual casual pose, but Xie Lian noted his fingers tightened around his forearms. “Yes. Ghost City. Not the Demon Capital. Here for the fun and games, are you, Grey Guard?” Xie Lian looked over the demon with interest. Demons typically didn’t like…well, anyone, including their own kind. They kept to themselves, except when there was war to be raged. Fun and games weren’t really their style.  “Of course,” they said neutrally. “Well then. By all means, enjoy yourself," said Hua Cheng sweetly. The demon turned to Xie Lian. "May I introduce myself, Your Highness? I am called Zhong Jianren.” Xie Lian nodded politely, noting the strange name, and bowed. “Xie Lian.” “What is this dish called?” “Overdue Queue Stew,” replied Xie Lian. “And I’m sorry, but as the festival is in his honour, the first taste can only belong to Lord Chengzhu,” he said, apologetic but firm. Hua Cheng smiled, smug and not breaking eye contact with the demon. Zhong Jianren inclined their head, raising an interested eyebrow as Xie Lian served Hua Cheng a bowl. He breathed in the steam and downed it. “Delicious, gege,” said Hua Cheng quietly, only for him. Xie Lian stifled a smile, and a shiver. Xie Lian scooped another serving into a bowl, and handed it to the demon. Zhong Jianren tipped the bowl and gulped it in one. The crowd was silent, watching. The demon stared at the empty bowl for a moment. “You are sure this is a concoction of the Mortal Realm?” Xie Lian gulped. “Uh…well, as much as it can be,” he said guiltily. The demon hadn’t fainted yet. That was something. Their eyes glinted. “I believe this is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.” “...” said Xie Lian. The line cheered, honked, and hissed. Hua Cheng smiled humourlessly. Xie Lian knew his smiles well enough by this point to know this demon had actually managed to get under his skin. “Of course it is,” he said lightly, eyes scanning the advancing line as if bored, as Xie Lian began to spoon out more portions into bowls. “What was the meat in the stew, Your Highness?” continued the demon, hair swaying slightly in a breeze that wasn’t there. Xie Lian blinked. “Uh, there is no meat in this stew.” “No meat?” muttered a few malcontents. “Well, I didn’t want to eat anyone’s relatives,” said Xie Lian, purposely avoiding eye contact with Butcher Zhu. Silence. Coughs. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Your Highness,” said the demon, eyes flashing in amusement. “Ahaha, well, thank you- say, which part did you think was meat-” “No fighting in front of His Highness!” said Hua Cheng irritably, as the snake paused guiltily in its attempt to squeeze a sorry looking soldier ghost to death.  “Apologies,” they both muttered, uncurling and nodding in agreement at each other that they would resume later. Hua Cheng turned smoothly back to the demon.  “Can I trust that you’ll return to your home Realm tonight?” he said sardonically. “Naturally.” Zhong Jianren bowed in a manner which seemed a tad mocking, though the execution and form was technically flawless. They turned, hair floating behind them, and were swallowed by the street revelry. Hua Cheng watched them go, smile fading just for a moment. *** After doling out stew to who knows how many ghosts and receiving a litany of compliments, generally along the lines of “I never tasted mortal food like THIS” and “Grand-Uncle, I wish I could be alive again just so I could die once more from one bite of this!” (apparently that one was not an insult), Xie Lian and Hua Cheng made their way to the Gambler’s Den. Xie Lian was feeling very pleased. He knew the difference between false and genuine praise. And for some reason, ghosts seemed to genuinely enjoy his food. He tried not to read into that too much after they strolled past a ghost enjoying what looked like a tanghulu stick made from human toes. Xie Lian watched Hua Cheng curiously as they went, holding hands in a manner so casual and easy it made his ears turn pink. He’d barely even noticed taking his hand until after he’d done it. It just felt right. “San Lang…” he began. “Hn?” said Hua Cheng, eyes looking around the streets as they went, taking in the wild partying.  Most of the City’s Ghosts had spilled into the street and were playing dice, throwing knives, bartering, drinking, juggling heads, and fighting cheerfully as they passed, pausing in their activities always to offer a “WELCOME BACK, LORD CHENGZHU!” and “WE TOLD YOU HE’D COME BACK FOR YOU, GRAND UNCLE!!” and “OF COURSE HE DID! HAVE YOU SMELLED HIM? HE DOESN’T SMELL IMPOTENT AT ALL… WELL HARDLY!” “San Lang, that demon…” he continued, waiting for Hua Cheng to fill in the blanks. Hua Cheng stiffened, and sighed. “Mmm. Interesting they introduced themself to you as Zhong Jianren. They’re usually known as Grey Guard. Realm Walking Grey Guard, in full. Sometimes called Zhong Bianyan. They’re a…border guard, of sorts. Between the Realms.” “Between the Ghost and Demon Realms?” “Between all of the Realms. Mortal, Ghost, Spirit, Demon, Dreamscape, Heaven…other stranger places that could be called Realms; nowhere is off limits.” Xie Lian hummed thoughtfully. Often, mortals and gods referred solely to ‘the Three Realms.’ Heaven, Mortal, and Ghost. He’d usually done so, out of habit. The Three Realms really just referred to the Realms that humans ruled; the paths that humans could take. Demons had their own Realm.  Hua Cheng and He Xuan were even frequently referred to as Demon Kings, though technically Demons were separate beings. They were easy to mix up for three reasons: demons hung around the Ghost Realm a lot; humans liked to call anything particularly evil a demon (in the Ghost Realm, this was a point of pride), and no human, god or ghost had ever seen the Demon Realm. It was therefore quite easy to pretend it did not exist. “So…Grey Guard could walk into Heaven’s Upper Court right now?”  “Yes. Heavenly Officials know of them. But Heavenly Officials never much fancied taking on the issue of borders themselves; it's always chaos even as it is and this way, demons are to blame. And the gods like the problems. Means more desperate prayers.” “But…we walk between the Realms. I am right now! And there are nonhuman spirits here in Ghost City, and ghosts and demons and spirits and gods in the Mortal Realm…” “And I’m betting Grey Guard knows of each and every one of those border crossings, every time. Including ours. Guardianship of the Realm barriers is an ancient practice. Grey Guard comes from a long line,” said Hua Cheng. “Interesting. I didn’t know demons had such a role. I figured you managed the barriers here,” continued Xie Lian. Hua Cheng kept his smile light. “I didn’t create them. They are many, many thousands of years old. And demons…have all kinds of roles. Don’t think of Grey Guard the way we would think of a border guard. They aren’t here to protect or serve anyone. They move between worlds and like to stir up trouble in each.” “What kind of trouble?” Hua Cheng’s hand tightened in Xie Lian’s for a moment. “Do not worry, gege. It’s nothing, really.” Xie Lian was frustrated as ever with his own ignorance of these matters. He strained his memory for what he did know. “But wasn’t separating the Realms a demonic idea, forever ago?” Hua Cheng was quiet. “That is what is written,” he said finally. Xie Lian frowned. “But…San Lang, I want to understand. They seemed…well, you seemed like you…” he trailed off as Hua Cheng turned to look at him. They’d reached the back, more private entrance of the Gambler’s Den, and stood awash in the noise and shouts and enjoyment and red silk hangings under lantern light.  “You seemed like they bothered you,” he finished. Hua Cheng’s face flickered. “They could never bother me with you here, gege.” Xie Lian sighed. “San Lang…you’re…I want you to tell me if something is wrong.” Hua Cheng blinked. “Gege?” Xie Lian squared his shoulders, and stood up to his full, intimidating height of Hua Cheng’s chin. “I can tell something is bothering you. I don’t want you to lie and say everything is fine.” Hua Cheng’s brows twitched. “Gege, I’ve only been back for a week. There are a few things I need to settle, but it will settle with time. Trust me.” Xie Lian mouthed up at him. “I do! Of course I do, I just meant… I don’t like the thought of you not telling me something because you think it would bother me.” Hua Cheng paused, and smiled. “We can discuss it later.” Xie Lian nodded in triumph. “Good.” Hua Cheng’s smile deepened. “That was a particularly nice scolding.” Xie Lian gaped. “I didn’t! It wasn’t!”  Hua Cheng chuckled. “I told you gege. I don’t mind when you scold me. I quite enjoy it, in fact.” Xie Lian grumbled in his throat, resisting the urge to put his hands on his hips like an affronted old man. A cool hand on his overheated face. Another at his waist. Xie Lian barely had time to understand what was happening before Hua Cheng leaned closer, and then…it happened. Xie Lian leapt back, stumbling into a barrel. Hua Cheng’s eyes widened, hands grasping at empty air. “Gege…I-” “No, San Lang, it wasn’t-” Xie Lian sputtered. He straightened, now formal. “I apologise. I should have-” “No, San Lang, it wasn’t- I was just-” Hua Cheng’s jaw tightened. “I should not have done that. I was greedy again.” “San Lang, it’s not that -” “What can this unworthy believer do-” “STOP IT!” blurted Xie Lian. Hua Cheng mouthed soundlessly, looking down. “I hate it…” Xie Lian began, stopping suddenly. Hua Cheng had flinched. Flinched. Oh Gods. Xie Lian felt his heart twist and stomach drop. He had well and truly botched this. A noise came from the back of his throat. “San Lang, please, I just…for a moment,” he struggled to explain. A muscle was leaping in Hua Cheng's jaw, and he wasn't looking at him. He gulped, and tried again. “When you, um, look like you do right now… it didn’t feel like you. You’re not in your true form and it just felt like it wasn’t right for me to...you know…” Hua Cheng frowned slightly. He said nothing. He was very still. Xie Lian sighed, feeling terrible. Why did he do that? The one time Hua Cheng had tried to kiss him since he’d been back, and he sprang back like he was made of hot iron, so humiliating, and he’d hurt him… He took a deep breath, beet red and shaky voiced. “I’m sorry I shouted. It’s just, it hurts me when you call yourself unworthy. I don’t need you to be my worshipper all the time. I just want San Lang.” Hua Cheng’s lips parted, expression unreadable, eyes still on the ground.  “Let me see if I understand gege. You…only want to kiss my true form?” Xie Lian swallowed. He had not known that himself, but…yes, that was true. He’d had to kiss this form once, when he thought San Lang nearly drowned, but now that he had a choice… He nodded earnestly.  Xie Lian gestured at him. “I…I love this form, I do, it’s just…well, you’re a little young for me like this, especially since we already have a bit of an age gap,” he said, feeling awkward.  Hua Cheng’s eyebrows raised.  “Gege, we are both over 800 years old.” Xie Lian huffed. “No, I’m older! Seven years! That’s a lot! I was…well, I was a young man, when I ascended, but…but when you’re like this…you’re, you’re a teenager. It’s a little bit…indecent.” Hua Cheng’s lips pursed. His eyes were now slowly starting to dance with mirth. Hua Cheng didn’t make any noise, but he may as well have been snorting. Xie Lian gave up. The hands went on the hips. “San Lang, are you laughing at me?” Hua Cheng gave up. “Yes, gege, because you are extremely funny.” Xie Lian exhaled irritably. “I didn’t know I felt that way either!” he said, aggrieved. Hua Cheng’s lips twitched. “Well, now that we know, I…will adjust accordingly. Happily.” Xie Lian rolled his eyes. “You’re going to ignore the second thing I said then?” Hua Cheng paused, quiet. Xie Lian shifted from foot to foot. “I really do just want San Lang. You don’t need to…” he fumbled for the words. “Earn it.” Hua Cheng said nothing, not meeting his gaze. “That’s…very nice of you to say, gege.” “I didn’t mean it to be nice, it’s what I want,” said Xie Lian brusquely, deciding that if he was going to act like an 800-year-old, he may as well lean into it. Hua Cheng opened his mouth, and closed it again. “Well, Your Highness, whatever I can do for you, I will do-” A bang came as the back doors flew open and the noise from the Den pierced the air. “And STAY OUT!” came the yell, along with the thump of a body hitting the ground and the resulting groan. Xie Lian grimaced. “Well, perhaps we could go around the main entrance,” he said, looking around. “Black Water?” asked Hua Cheng, voice strange. Xie Lian’s head whipped around.  Sprawled on the ground was a pathetic looking figure.  The figure ‘oofed’ as it climbed slowly to its feet, dusting off its filthy rags as it went. Xie Lian’s mouth fell open. He was certainly not easily recognisable. He was one of the Four Great Calamities, and he’d just been tossed out by a bouncer like a sack of rice. He Xuan did not look good. He was normally pale and stern of brow and demeanour, but he seemed…drunk. Xie Lian didn’t realise how stiff and formal his posture normally was until he saw him like this. Swaying and vague-eyed, scratching aimlessly at his head and robes.  “Ah, Your Highness!” he slurred, attempting a bow in Xie Lian’s direction and falling over immediately. Xie Lian instinctively moved to help him up, but Hua Cheng gently stopped him. As he did, Xie Lian wondered why exactly he was about to help him up. He’d last seen him popping Shi Wudu’s head off like a pea out of a pod.  True, he’d lain low and let them battle in his waters during the chaos after Mount Tong’lu, and Xie Lian would be surprised if his Bone Dragons had fought without his express permission, but he hadn’t shown his face.  He Xuan righted himself on his feet again. “Hua Cheng,” he belched, with a chin nod. “Good party,” he said, jerking his thumb behind him. Hua Cheng’s eyes glittered. Xie Lian noticed he wasn’t smiling. Apparently he had no need for pretence around He Xuan. “Figured you’d be here, but you must have made quite a scene to get kicked out this early.” “Not my fault no one here can drink properly,” he hiccuped. Xie Lian looked him over with interest. He had given He Xuan plenty of thought, over the past year. Shi Qingxuan visited a few times, still their delightfully unhinged self, but Xie Lian had never brought Black Water up. Strangely, he felt a kinship with He Xuan, though they’d never really had any one on one interaction.  He knew exactly what it was like to lose himself completely to rage and revenge. To realise too late that the self he’d have to live with afterward was not one he wanted to live with at all. But it wasn’t like death was really an option for either of them. Their only difference was that Black Water didn’t have someone looking out for him, willing to shield him from the worst so he could find his best again. He didn’t have a San Lang. Xie Lian spent a good hundred or so years thinking of Wu Ming’s sacrifice every day. Trying to live in a way that would make his death not just a waste of his faith in him. Until it became habit, and he became the Xie Lian he was now. Someone who no longer had much use for rage or vengeance. But those first years? They were hard. Almost impossible. It looked like He Xuan was right in them, judging from his current glassy eyed stare. “You don’t look like yourself,” said Xie Lian hesitantly.  Hua Cheng sniffed. “Someone who eats and drinks my establishments out of everything they’ve got? Sounds like Black Water to me.” “I got kicked out because they wouldn’t let me bet one of my Bone Dragons. Seemed to think I wasn’t telling the truth,” he burped. “You have half the money of Heaven itself, you owe me most of it, and you’re betting a Bone Dragon?” said Hua Cheng impatiently. “Well, a Dragon is a more liquid asset-” “Cough up, or leave.” Xie Lian glanced at Hua Cheng. His gaze was steely and unforgiving.  “Ah, San Lang, perhaps we should be a little more gentle with him,” he murmured. Hua Cheng looked at him in surprise. “Gege, this man spent quite a long time actively plotting how best to rip apart the life of one of your friends.” Didn’t manage to do that, thought Xie Lian privately. Shi Qingxuan had an odd sort of resilience. Still. It was sweet to watch Hua Cheng be all tough and gruff just because he thought Xie Lian might have tender feelings about it. Which he did, but he could also see the shades of grey. And this wasn’t really about him. He smiled sadly. “I know he did. But I once spent some time actively plotting how to kill every person in an entire Kingdom.” Hua Cheng’s brows contracted. “You are not him,” he said shortly. “How?” “You are better.” “Only to you. And only thanks to you,” said Xie Lian, desperately fond. Hua Cheng’s gaze bore into his for a moment, and Xie Lian felt hot around the collar. “Don’t let me interrupt,” said He Xuan, who had given up on standing and sat slumped on the ground with his legs wide apart. “I loved someone once. Nice, isn’t it,” he said bitterly. Xie Lian’s heart clenched. Just the idea of something happening to Hua Cheng like what happened to He Xuan’s fiancee… he’d have done what He Xuan did. Even now, even with all the change in him, he’d still probably do it. No one was immune to the reckoning of that kind of pain.  “He Xuan,” he said, edging towards him slightly. “Is there anything we can do? To help you.” He Xuan lay down flat on the ground. “Just leave me alone,” he muttered to the stone. Xie Lian sighed. He could recognise a man who was not ready to be helped.  “Alright. If that’s what you want.” He looked back at Hua Cheng. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to step over He Xuan’s miserable prone form just to get inside anymore. “San Lang, maybe we can go somewhere quiet, instead?” Hua Cheng’s face softened. “Of course, gege.” They turned to leave. “You felt it too, right Hua Cheng?” called He Xuan. Xie Lian looked back as Hua Cheng’s shoulders tightened. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said coldly, not turning.  He Xuan snorted. “The shutting. I feel it. I welcome it. I hope this is all over soon,” he said, curling into a ball away from them. Hua Cheng’s eyes widened, just for a moment. Then his face was a mask. And he smiled. Xie Lian stared. Hua Cheng didn’t smile, with He Xuan. “Sounds like a you problem,” he said, nonchalantly, before offering Xie Lian his elbow. Xie Lian watched his face carefully as he took it. It seemed there were more than a few things that Hua Cheng was keeping to himself. ***

The next day Elizabeth was back to the hero grind. Her agency had been extremely busy the past few weeks with emergency calls, media outings, and numerous investigative cases. Her day started with filling out a Sidekick ad. There were already seven sidekicks working alongside her, but they were stretched thin as it was.  Science was the focus at her agency, making it different from the rest of the top heroes and also in high demand. Each of her sidekicks had a quirk that specialized in one main area of science such as biology, geology, physics, etc.  After calling in one of her interns for the proper paperwork, she placed it to the side and glanced down at her to-do list. Written in pink ink was her agenda for the week. One of which took the utmost priority was The Heroic Children's Charity or The HCC. Every year Elizabeth had been in charge of organizing and hosting the prestigious charitable event. The nonprofit raised thousands of dollars to help support at-risk children reach their dreams of becoming Pro Heroes.  Spectators and fans pay a hero fee to enter the venue, they are provided a meal and an opportunity to meet and greet any of the heroes who attended. The heroes and vendors all volunteer their time and efforts for the event, so all of the money collected from tickets goes to the scholarship fund. The scholarships provide opportunities for the prospective heroes to train with real Pro Heroes and a chance to refine their quirks. When they came of age, they would enroll in a heroics school of their choice. Most students choose to attend U.A., with it being the top Hero Academy in Japan, but others would graciously pursue Shiketsu High School. The future heroes had to fill out applications and be selected to attend the event. Not all applicants met the requirements, and there was a limited number of those chosen.   Pro Heroes from all across Japan attended the event, but this year was going to be different. After pulling a few strings, Elizabeth managed to secure the greatest hero of all time: All Might. That alone had the potential to bring in the big bucks, and therefore, more applicants. She had just over a week left before the eventful night. Most of the planning was already done, she just needed to tie up a few loose strings. It was a lot of work, but she didn’t mind. Elizabeth loved to plan events. Feeling satisfied with the number of tasks that were already completed for The HCC, she moved on to the ad.  After working for about ten minutes, she glanced up at the wall in her office. I have one hour before the staff meeting. I need to get this finished so I can present and send it down the chain to my hiring team. She sat at her computer and began typing away.  Her office was at the end of the hallway in the corner of the building. A large wooden desk sat perpendicular to three floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city.  Hugging the side wall was a bookcase filled with books, case records, and small deep green succulent plants. A few decorations were scattered around the room giving the space a chic and modern vibe.  While in the middle of editing the Sidekick Wanted Ad she felt her cell phone vibrate.  It’s probably Nemuri wanting an explanation about me leaving early last night. I won’t answer and let her catch the voicemail.  The phone continued to vibrate, and unfortunately, her inner moral compass was working overtime today and wouldn’t allow her to sit through the persistent buzzing.  Maybe I should answer, what if it is an emergency?  She stopped typing and brought the phone up to her ear. “Ella speaking?”  “Tsukauchi here. Do you have a minute to come down to the station?” he asked. His voice was calm but obviously burdened. Elizabeth sat up from her chair. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”  She clicked off and immediately left her office, giving instructions for her interns to finish the ad as she walked out the door. The staff meeting would have to wait.     Elizabeth arrived at the Police Station within four minutes. She figured that this probably wasn’t a dire emergency, but it was important enough for her to use her quirk for travel.  When she walked inside the building, she and the police officers on duty exchanged polite waves. Her presence at the station was a common occurrence so they didn’t even stop her with questions. In fact, this was her twenty-fourth visit to the station this month. Not that she was counting. She noticed that the lobby didn’t look normal for a Monday. Usually, the weekends kept the station busy with criminals but today it had a sluggish atmosphere.   Passing the lobby desk she headed down the long narrow hall toward Tsukauchi’s office. This has to be about the black hole from the other night. I wonder if Nemuri was summoned as well?  Straight ahead a cloud of black closed the door that led to Tsukauchi’s office. It vanished so fast that if she would have blinked she would have missed it.  Her forehead creased.   Was…that…?  Arriving at the same door, she gave a polite knock. Tsukauchi called out from inside, granting her permission to enter. Elizabeth opened the door to reveal the detective leaning on his desk, arms crossed with a quizzical look.  “Ella! Thank you for joining us,” said Tsukauchi with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting you so quickly! I’m sure that you’ve already met Eraserhead.” He held out an introductory arm toward the man standing beside him. Shit. It was.  A muscle in her jaw twitched.   Wait, Eraserhead? What kind of hero name is that?    Before her stood the man that she was sure she wouldn’t see again. In this close proximity, Elizabeth could see his face, something that she wasn’t able to do the night before. To her surprise, he didn’t look much different in the light than he did that night by the tree. The white scarf around his neck was surrounded by his long untamed hair. His face was weathered and worn like he was going to collapse from exhaustion any second. Meeting him now threw her analytical mind for a loop. If she knew about this second encounter ahead of time, she would have put more thought into their interaction.  This is my chance to clear the air. Come on Liz, be as polite and professional as possible. She secretly took a deep breath and then handed out her hand. “Nice to meet you Eraserhead, I’m Elizabeth Isamu,” she said politely with a white smile. Her hand lingered awkwardly in the air while Eraserhead only gave her an unimpressed expression. ….um… Elizabeth held her gaze, unsure if she should withdraw.  His sullen eyes fell down with a blink before he jerked his head away. “So why did you call us here, Tsukauchi?" What!? What's his deal?   Elizabeth sheepishly retreated her hand and let it fall to her side. She gave the detective her full attention with a blank expression on her face. She wasn’t sure if she should feel embarrassed about what just happened or angry that the bridge troll ignored her presence for the second time.  Whatever. Focus.  “Right. Let’s get started,” Tsukuachi said, studious voice breaking up the awkward atmosphere. “I’ve called you both here because of your involvement in the case of the black holes.” He reached for his notepad that was sitting on his desk, flipping through the pages before coming to a stop.  “All except one of the victims had been reported missing before falling out of the black hole. The details of each missing person's case are the same. They just vanished. No witnesses, no rhyme or reason for their disappearance, and worst of all, no suspect.” Elizabeth wrinkled her eyebrows. “Is no one talking about what they experienced?” she asked. This was all starting to seem off to her. “Some are, but there isn't much to go off of,” the detective replied. “One person said the last thing they remembered was walking down one street, and then the next thing they knew, they were sitting on the ground on a different street. Another one said they remembered briefly seeing a dark purple light. It could be a side effect from the black holes. But we shouldn’t dismiss the idea of another quirk at play. Maybe memory alteration.” Elizabeth had been listening so intently to the detective that she didn’t realize that she was biting one of her fingernails. Eraserhead still held the same expression on his face.  Tsukauchi continued. “We've interviewed all the victims and have reached a pretty alarming discovery. It seems that each of them possesses a quirk, but are no longer able to activate it.” The unnerving news echoed in Elizabeth’s brain. It wasn’t unheard of that injured people couldn’t activate their quirks right away. Following recovery, it could take weeks. But if this were the case, Tsukauchi wouldn’t have called in for the two heroes. Eraserhead spoke up, "to what extent?” Elizabeth unintentionally glanced over at him, seeing that he had shifted on his feet. The change in his posture justified her rattled thoughts.  “That’s why I've called for you, Eraser. Can you describe in detail how your erasure works?” he asked, preparing his pen. “I can temporarily pause the gene that's responsible for the quirk,” Eraserhead explained. “The wielder is unable to activate it for a short period of time. Once I blink, the expression on the quirk factor returns. There's no damage to its owner or the quirk itself.” Ah, so that's why he's called Eraserhead. Still a weird name though... Tsukauchi continued to scribble down notes before looking up at him. “I see, thank you Eraserhead, this is very helpful information. I'll relay this over to the medical team who are working on this case to see if there are any similarities.” Elizabeth thought back to the man on the ground who seemed totally disconnected from everything around him. “How are the victims?” she asked the detective. “There's been little progress on that front,” he said with a frown. “Most of the victims appear to have been through some sort of emotional trauma but have not verbalized anything with us. Physically, some have minor bumps and bruises, while others are not physically harmed at all.” Elizabeth stood with a hand on her chin.   This doesn’t make any sense. If some of the victims were uninjured then there shouldn’t be a reason why their quirks are deactivated.  She continued her questioning. “What about the metal bands?”  “Well, I could actually use your help with that, Ella,” he admitted. “Did you have any immediate thoughts when you first saw them?” Elizabeth had a lot of thoughts, actually. But she decided to stick with the basics to avoid confusion. “It was hard to tell if it was natural or synthetic, but either way it was exceptionally well made. The metal was extremely smooth, flawless almost. If it  is  natural, I'm guessing it to be transition metal. But I would need to investigate it further to reach a more concise conclusion.” “That wouldn’t be a problem,” Tsukauchi said as he wrote down the reminder on his notepad. “I can make a few phone calls to schedule an interview with one of the victims.” “And the black holes?” Elizabeth asked, happy to release the questions that had plagued her mind the past few days. Tsukauchi sighed before answering. “One of our main problems is that we can’t get ahead of these occurrences. We only have eyewitnesses to rely on to describe what happened before, during, and after the black holes appear. We always arrive after the fact.”  So the black holes appear at random places and at random times.  Elizabeth was so deep in thought that she had almost forgotten Eraserhead was still standing there. At least until he spoke up. “The holes are clearly some sort of warp gate that seems to appear randomly. Do we know anything else?” he asked, face still blank of expression. Huh. That was weird. It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking.  “We only know that there have been reports of people coming out of them. Never anything or anyone going in,” said Tsukauchi. He handled the Pro Heroes questions with grace. He must have been expecting the interrogation. If they're acting as some sort of teleportation device, then maybe as the victims travel through them they interfere with their quirks. The question is…  “When was the first known instance of a black hole appearing?”  Tsukauchi referred back to his notes before giving her an answer. “The first black hole was reported three weeks ago. The second one was shortly after. There have been eight instances that we know of.” Three weeks ago!? Why hasn’t my agency been informed? Elizabeth felt a little offended. Her agency was one of the fastest and most thorough agencies at solving cases.  “That’s why I called you here Ella,” Tsukauchi said with a smile. “Can your agency provide any additional support to the investigation? For obvious reasons, your agency is best suited in cases like this.”  Elizabeth stood with her mouth slightly opened, feeling embarrassed by her judgmental thoughts. “Of course. Whatever you need, detective,” she offered. “Great! I'll send over the paperwork to your office within the next couple of days. For now, that’s all I have. I'll continue to keep both of you informed if anything comes up.” The both of you? Great. I guess we are teaming up for the remainder of this case. She tried to hide the disapproval on her face. Elizabeth looked over at her newly assigned case partner to see that he was already walking toward the door.  What!? He’s not even going to say goodbye? What’s with him?  “Thanks, Tsukauchi,” she said, retreating out the door to catch up with Eraserhead.  Though he snubbed her and ignored her introduction, Elizabeth felt the need to try and smooth things over with him. If they were going to be working on this case together, then they needed to be able to communicate. Besides, she wasn’t used to people not liking her, at least not publicly to her face. It bothered her. Maybe she said something or did something to offend him? Eraserhead was also practically a stranger whom she knew nothing about. Questions flooded her mind about him as a hero, his agency, and his investigative style. This was her opportunity. She quickly prepared a list of questions in her head. Elizabeth picked up her pace until she was walking beside him. He walked with his hands in his pockets and back slouched over. His head was buried in that scarf thing, eyes pointed straight ahead.  As soon as she got close to him though, her mind went blank.  ….damn it. What was I going to ask him??  He didn't bother to offer anything to their quiet stroll down the hall either. Elizabeth wasn’t sure, but it almost seemed like had picked up the pace a little. She ignored the idea of him trying to get away from her and kept walking. Hopefully any minute now her thoughts would return and she could engage in a conversation.  This was the closest that she had been to the man since their introduction. By being so, she caught a subtle smell of sandalwood that hovered around him. She accidentally breathed in its airy undertones.  Huh....he kinda smells good.  Wait, what!? What the heck is wrong with you, you dummy. Now she felt even more awkward. Trying to break the thick silence that hung over them, Elizabeth opened her mouth in an attempt to start a conversation.  …….. …….. She failed. The only noise between the two of them was the sound of their tapping footsteps on the marbled tile.  It seemed like an eternity before they reached the entrance. The awkwardness of them walking in silence was gently broken up by the sound of chatting police officers in the lobby. Exiting through the revolving door, Elizabeth had finally remembered a question that she was going to ask.  “So,” she started. “What kind of-”   Huh!?  Her face dropped when she saw that Eraserhead had turned on his heels to walk in the opposite direction. Not even acknowledging that she was talking. “Hey!” she snapped, previously expressionless face tangling in a scowl. “If we’re gonna work together on this case we should at least be cordial!”   The words were ruder than she originally intended, but at this point, she was definitely offended and she wanted him to know it.  Eraserhead stopped walking.  “Who said we’re working together?” he argued, not even bothering to turn around to face her. He picked up his pace and continued walking away.  He’s such a jerk! Elizabeth couldn’t help the anger that was building on her face. She blew out a puff of air from her nose and abruptly rocketed off into the air with her quirk. He has some nerve. How am I supposed to work with this guy if I can’t even have a conversation with him?  She returned to the office and started the staff meeting.

Jim was well aware that at every first contact they had with new races in outer space there was a good chance that the translators could make a mistake or two, not able to fathom the nuance of some word or even sentence. It was a known possibility, since translating a language would have took a bigger exposure to it than it was possible at that very first approach. Many times it led to funny anecdotes that Jim would later recount to hosts and guests during social occasions, other times they led to difficult situations that weren’t nice stories material. More often than not, it all simply led to ridiculous misunderstanding though, as Jim was pretty sure it had happened upon their arrival to Paracacia when the automatic translator had more than one problem in translating their words, sometimes leaving whole sentences in the original alien language. Jim frowned slightly, tempted to shake the translator, but he knew it was no use; instead, he tried to ask the ambassador to repeat one more time what they had said. The alien had stopped in their track, the tentacles on their chin trembling softly as they tried with different words. "We are a very united people. We welcome such a unite people as you are." The translator relayed that time, and Jim was ninety percent sure that it had missed something. He had started to develop a sixth sense about that kind of situations. A quick glance to his side revealed a pointedly arched eyebrow on Spock's face and Jim felt his suspicions confirmed. "We are glad you welcome us." He smiled at the alien nonetheless. "We hope that we will soon be able to talk with your head of state and inform them of how the Federation would welcome you if you would decide to unite to us." The tentacles trembled more animatedly and Jim had the clear impression that the alien was quite happy to hear that. Once again the ambassador started walking, leading them to what they had been assured would have been a suitable sistemation for them until their royalty was free to meet them. "It is sad that the rest of your team is not as united as you two are." The ambassador commented, and Jim frowned slightly because at no point he and his team had showed any divergence. "I can assure you they are of the same opinion as us, we all share the same desire to see peace spread on the universe." "That is admirable." The ambassador had told them, his tentacles much more subsided. "How valuable is the fact of being united for your people?" Spock had wondered, clearly finding the matter fascinating. Jim could almost hear the word go around in the other's brain. "Very much. That is how the head of state are chosen. How all the head are chosen." "Fascinating." Spock commented right as Jim had expected him to. They nodded their heads respectfully when the ambassador left them in front of a door and informed them that they would have met in three hours for dinner. Jim stopped barely two steps inside the room, his gaze fixed on the huge bed in the center of it. A queen sized bed that clearly meant their hosts had thought he and Spock were "united" in a very different way compared to what the translator had made them think they meant. "Uh." He said very intelligently. "Indeed." Spock murmured beside him, eyes fixed on the only bed in the room. "Guess they thought... we were united in another way than being Captain and First Officer." Jim considered slowly, tilting his head without really wanting to walk closer to the bed. "Apparently. It could be what the ambassador meant when they said that their head of state were chosen between the united ones." "Ah." Jim nodded, putting his hands on his hips. "So, they chose between bonded couples. And they thought we were... united, because we are at the head of the Enterprise." He surmised. "Probably correct." Spock nodded his head, back straight and hands behind his back. Jim nodded slowly and finally moved away from the door, letting his bag drop on what looked like a chair. "So, which side do you prefer?" He asked Spock, wondering if that little tic at one tilted eyebrow was just in his imagination. "Captain, I have reached a conclusion based on the facts that we had gathered up until now." Spock had informed him, primly seated at the end of the bed, his tricorder between his hands. "And that is?" Spock inhaled slowly, bringing his gaze on the human. "It could be in our interest to not let the indigenous species of this planet know that we are in fact not bonded to each other. If they value such a detail so much that they see fit for power only those who have a partner, then it stands that they would not allow any audience or even consider our words if they were to find out that our relationship was merely-" "A friendship?" Jim interrupted him with a soft smile. Spock seemed to falter for a second, probably having been about to say "professional", but in the end he gave a curt nod of his head, a little smile tugging at his lips. "Exactly, Jim." "So do you suggest pretending to be a couple for what is left of our stay here?" Jim approached him slowly, looking Spock straighten his back even more. "Precisely." "It's a good plan." Jim nodded, and for a moment he wondered if once more his imagination was playing him tricks or if the warmth in Spock's eyes had really been there for the quickest moment. Their suppositions were soon considered more than valid by Uhura and Shya, the communications ensign that had followed them planet side. When they followed their guide to the state dinner Spock made sure to stay closer to his Captain, attempting to show that way how close they were. Jim smiled warmly at the vulcan, just as he would have if they were to really share a romantic relationship. In a show of good manner, or at least what he hoped the paracacians would see as such, he moved the chair for Spock, helping him sit down at the table before taking his place by his side. It was with a thrill of pride that he noticed the tendrils on their hosts chins tremble in approval. "And hear, Captain, how did the two of you meet?" A paracacian asked curiously, their gaze moving from Jim to Spock who was currently assessing if their food was fit for consumption by both humans and vulcans. Jim gave the alien a brilliant smile. "Starfleet paired us years ago. I am most fortunate to have found such a brilliant First Officer to serve by my side." He chuckled softly, throwing a glance at Spock and finding with pleasure that - even though the vulcan kept his gaze on his tricorder - his cheeks were flushed a darker green than usual, clearly having heard his words. "Honestly, it could have been all kind of bad if I hadn't found that I could trust the person closer to me with my whole life." He admitted, a little part of him wondering how much Spock could have blushed if he was to keep telling others what he really thought of him. "Captain..." Spock called him softly. "Yes, Spock?" Jim turned with a smile, looking at the almost uncomfortable vulcan nod to their plates without taking his eyes off the tricorder yet. "The food is fit for consumption." He cleared his throat, even his ears flushed a bright green by then. "Thanks, Spock." Jim smiled, reaching out with one hand to gently brush Spock's forearm, taking care to not let his touch go where the fabric of the uniform didn't protect the vulcan. Spock moved his gaze to his hand and gave a curt nod, seemingly relaxing at that. Even though Jim could have sworn that Spock seemed to stay tense at his side for the rest of the evening. It was a matter he endeavoured to rectify as soon as the door of their assigned room slid close behind them. "I hope I haven't put you in an embarrassing position during dinner, Spock." He started. Spock though shook his head once, his back rimrod straight, but his shoulders more relaxed. "On the contrary, Captain. I have to admit that hearing your compliments directed at my persona during dinner helped me." "Really?" Jim couldn't help but ask, a little smile tugging at his lips. "Confidence." Spock only answered, his eyes on Jim's almost searching for something. After a moment he moved his hands from behind his back, showing Jim the first two fingers of his right hand. "If I can, Captain, this is the ozh’esta. The only permitted show of affection in public for vulcans couples." And then it was Jim's turn to blush hard at the proof right in front of him that Spock was not only granting him to touch his bare skin, but he was proposing him to practically present themselves in public as a couple even for vulcan's standards. "I-" He stuttered, not really wanting to see too much in it but unable to do so either way. "Are you sure, Spock?" He murmured. "If you are not interested-" Spock started, lowering his arm, but Jim hurried to step closer to him, shaking his head with a smile. "No, no, it's just- You usually don't like much people touching you." He chuckled, mirroring the way Spock kept his fingers. And then he noticed the warmth and note of amusement in Spock's so human eyes. "Since it is you, and in deference of the respect you always showed to my culture, I see nothing wrong with teaching you this, or using this gesture to further our image of bonded couple at the eyes of the paracacians." "Sure. They will love it." Jim chuckled with butterflies in his stomach as he gently tried pressing his fingers against Spock's. For the briefest moment Jim could have sworn that the vulcan’s eyelashes had fluttered at that contact, a little spark igniting between them and travelling from their fingers up their arms. It seemed to surprise both of them, if the quirking of the slanted eyebrow was a sign, but instead of moving back or letting his hand drop Spock stood where he was. There was a beat of stillness between them before Spock actually used his fingers to hook Jim's, gently pulling them closer to himself, pressing better against them. Even though Jim couldn't surely feel what Spock did in that moment he found himself furiously blushing at being at the center of the vulcan's attention. "Spock..." He called softly the First Officer, and that was enough to shake Spock out of his reverie. Soon he had let go of his fingers and nodded his head, covering the tremble on his fingers by bringing both of them once more behind his back. "Very well, Captain." "For god's sake, Spock..." Jim chuckled, instinctively drawing circles on the tips of his fingers with his thumb. "It kinda seems like we almost made out, and you're still calling me Captain even though we're alone." The flush on Spock cheeks came back full force, giving Jim pause. After a beat the vulcan tilted his head of a fraction. "The ozh’esta could be assimilated to the show of affection done by humans kissing their partner chastely on the lips." He admitted. Jim was left gaping at that, looking shocked at his friend. "I- was that inappropriate of me?" He managed, slowly rubbing his hands one against the other. "It was not." Spock reassured him, even if he appeared distracted by what Jim was currently absently minded doing, studying Jim's hands instead of looking him in the eyes. "I would have not proposed it if I were not ready to exchange it with you. Jim." He added almost as an afterthought, briefly raising his gaze on him to study his reaction. Jim was left staring at him, trying to decide what that could mean for them, if the peaceful end of the accords after all was not the only thing in his mind in that moment. *** Jim was perfectly aware that as sleep eluded him it was clear the same was happening to the other occupant of the bed.In the darkness he could perfectly follow the regular pattern of Spock's breath, but considering how many times they had slept in shared quarters during missions - sometimes even in sickbay - he was fairly sure that it should have been even slower if Spock was really asleep.As for what regarded him, Jim wasn't kept awake by the thought of the encounter with the head of state the next morning, but by the memory of what had previously emerged between him and Spock.He couldn't help but think back at the warmth in Spock's gaze as he had proposed Jim to follow the vulcan tradition, his fingers so soft and warm at the touch. Jim couldn't help but wonder if the rest of his hand would have felt the same, soft skin and strength hiding under it. He let a sigh escape his lips at the memory of how Spock had tugged his fingers closer to him, how his eyelashes had fluttered in what Jim hoped was pleasure.He licked his lips, well aware that he was maybe seeing too much in what Spock considered barely the equivalent of a peck on the lips, and turned to try and throw a look at his First Officer.In the darkness he could barely make out the silhouette of the other's head on the pillow, and feeling so very stupid Jim turned once more, moving until he was laying on his side, his back to Spock, and he grabbed the pillow in the futile hope that smashing his head into it would have helped him get asleep.He stopped every movement though when he heard a rustle of covers behind him, the proof that Spock was in fact awake even though he had not said a word the whole time. Jim stared at the darkness in front of him, trying to gauge what Spock was doing, and felt a shiver run down his back when suddenly a puff of hot breath hit the nape of his neck.Spock had slowly moved on his side himself, but instead of giving his Captain his back he had moved towards the human. Jim swallowed in silence, feeling his body tense as he noticed he was able to actually feel the heat emanating from the other, so close to him that Spock must have had left his side of the bed in his movements. Jim closed his eyes shut, trying to focus on the warmth he could feel against his back and legs. Spock laid still for long seconds in which they didn't share a word, not even when Spock finally moved once more, closing the distance between the two of them. A deep sigh escaped Jim's lips when the vulcan pressed himself against him, sending shivers of pleasure down his body. Spock felt like a safe presence against him, his chest so terribly hot pressed flush against his back, his knees pressing against the back of Jim's until he was making the human move them toward his chest. Jim had no protest to make at that, actually elated to finally have the chance to feel Spock on him that way, and instead pressed back against the other, tucking himself more closely in Spock's embrace. Soon Spock sneaked one hand under his arm, letting his fingers slide from Jim's side toward the left side of his body, wrapping him in a hug that Jim had no hurry to escape. Instead Jim found himself smiling in the darkness, the tension dissipating from his body. Slowly he covered the vulcan's hand, slowly stroking his fingers until Spock parted them enough to let Jim entwine them. Spock sighed softly at that and tilted his head forward, pressing his forehead against the nape of Jim's neck. But still he didn't seem intentioned to take his hand away, or to talk for that matter, to explain what he was doing. Not that Jim wanted to talk much in that moment, preferring instead to bask in the pleasure of that contact for as long as he could. They laid there in silence, enjoying their closeness until Jim let the warm puff of breath against his bare skin lull him to sleep. Jim sighed softly upon waking up. The heat in the bed was stifling, Spock acting as a heater against his body, and for a moment Jim thought that was what had woken him up. Pretty soon though he noticed how Spock's breath was way more erratic than how he had ever heard it, faster than the night before, almost akin to when they were running from some enemy. The cause of it though was clear by the way Spock kept slowly rocking his hips, grinding his hard erection against Jim's ass. Jim suffocated a moan at understanding that Spock was having a wet dream and was trying to take care of it using him. Well, Jim was more than on board with letting Spock have his wicked way with him, but would have preferred if the vulcan was actually awake for it. That didn't stop him though from pressing himself better against his First Officer, his own penis quickly growing harder at every passing second. He had some difficulty suppressing a moan when Spock managed to push his cock against the crack of his ass through the fabric of their pajamas. Jim was tempted to spread his legs in the hope to be able to feel it better. He closed his eyes in pleasure when Spock's movements became stronger, almost making him wish to just wake the other up and ask him to keep going but without any clothes on. Suddenly though Spock's breath faltered and Jim stilled completely, trying to force himself to slow down his own breath after the minutes in which it had quickened as he let the lust take a hold of him. Suddenly his mind was filled by the dread that Spock would understand what had happened and take away everything. Not only the hold of his arms, but the heat and comfort of his body. Even worse, the friendship they had slowly built and the trust Jim had sweated on to make it last. After a moment though Spock simply leaned in and pressed his lips behind Jim's ear. "Your fears are too loud." He complained softly with a voice full of sleep. "Sorry." Jim murmured without thinking. "I should be the one saying so." Spock pointed out in a low murmur, not giving any hint of wanting to back off him, or even take away the arm he still had around Jim. Jim sighed softly, shaking his head once. "No need for it, Spock." He murmured. But that close to each other there was no way for him to hide the fears that still had a hold on his heart, neither the relief at sensing that still Spock wasn't about to leave him like a boiling potato even though he was now awake and well aware of their position. Not to mention the vulcan's erection still there and the desire that still run through Jim. Slowly, tentatively, he tried pressing back against Spock once more, hoping his closeness was sign that he was still interested as much as the boner still poking against his ass would have made him presume. Instead of choosing that moment to pull back Spock moaned softly and soon he started grinding against him once more. Abruptly Spock moved the covers away from them, surprising Jim for a moment as he lifted himself on an elbow enough to be able to watch the human lying against him. A quick glance revealed to Jim the heated gaze in those too human’s eyes and he couldn’t help a shiver at that sight. Slowly the vulcan went back to caressing his abdomen, taking a hold of his shirt before slowly hiking it up to expose Jim to his gaze. Jim sighed excited and kicked the covers away, licking his lips and cracking a smile. "Like what you see?" He murmured teasingly, even though he could easily guess the answer by the way Spock was staring at him with hunger in his eyes. Slowly Spock went back to caressing him, his fingers spread as he slowly touched the golden skin of the man, tips of fingers brushing a nipple, stopping a moment to play with it. Jim bit his lip, almost holding his breath as he wished to just be able to remember all of that when it was going to be done. Spock though didn't look too eager to stop any time soon, slowly playing with his nipple enough to see if Jim liked it or not before letting his touch slide more south, over the abs and to the trail of golden hair that started from Jim's navel to disappear under the waistband of the pajama pants. There Spock stopped, clearly unsure if his touch would have been welcomed over that point. Jim though took the doubt away from him by moving one leg up and over Spock's, pressing back his hips against Spock's boner to remind the vulcan that he was more than willing to all of that. Spock moaned hoarsely at the added pressure, his fingers trembling for a second, and instead of sneaking his hand inside the pants Spock moved it over the erection that tented the fabric, making Jim moan as he cupped his hard penis. Jim threw his head back on the pillow as Spock slowly started groping him, making him even more excited and eager for what they could have had. The vulcan was so close to his ear that Jim was perfectly able to hear the moment Spock swallowed, clearly barely able to still control his body. "Please, Captain..." The pray came with a surprising hoarse voice, not more louder than a whisper, and Jim let out a soft noise. "Jim." He murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. "Heavens sake, call me Jim." He didn't bother feeling ashamed for the soft whine in his voice, too strung up to be able to stand Spock calling him by rank in that moment, so close to actually having sex with him. If they were to do it Jim wanted to make sure Spock knew it wasn't happening as Captain and First Officer. "Jim." Spock called him softly, a syllable whispered like a prayer in the hope that Jim would let him. And Jim nodded his head without even asking the other what was that he wanted. After all he was pretty sure he would have given the vulcan whatever he could have asked for. "Please..." "Yes." Jim sighed when it was clear that Spock needed to hear it from his lips, not just see his nod. "Yes, Spock." A hoarse noise escaped the vulcan and Spock stopped holding back, taking his hand away from Jim's cock only to pull down the human's pajama and expose to the light incoming from the window the naked body of his Captain. But then Spock’s hips faltered when Jim attempted reaching back, clearly with all the intention to return the favor and pull down the standard pajama Spock wore. The vulcan’s hand stopped completely when Spock spoke, insecurity leached in his tone. “Jim… it would probably better if you didn’t.” “You don’t want me to?” Jim frowned in surprise, his hand still over Spock’s hip. Jim was pretty sure to not have been wrong, at least judging from the way Spock was still completely hard against him, his cock lodged between Jim’s asscheeks and the fabric the only thing stopping him from pushing in. Spock hesitated, for once at loss for words, and he cleared his throat after a couple seconds. “Vulcans are physically different from humans.” He murmured, even if something in his tone made Jim suspicious. Moreover it was known that vulcans and humans were sexually compatible, ence Spock’s birth in primis. "It's okay, Spock..." Jim tried to reassure him, cracking a smile. "I'm not really in this because I have a kink for vulcans or something like that." He tried to joke. But Spock seemed at a loss for words and still reluctant. He was in fact torn between his desire for the man and his shame at the mere thought of letting Jim see what very few had. He pressed his face against Jim's shoulder, moving his hand away from the human's cock to go back to holding him tightly against his chest. "Jim..." It was clear that something was wrong and Jim tried to turn in his arms, finding himself instead stopped by the strong arm around him. "Spock..." He called softly, gently caressing the side of his friend. "Spock, talk to me..." He almost begged, trying his best to project his affection through their touch, pretty sure Spock could feel him with all that exposed skin against skin between them. That seemed to help the vulcan relax a fraction and Spock sighed softly, nuzzling the hair on the nape of Jim's neck. "My hybrid status separates me from what is considered normal for vulcans. But also from what is considered normal for humans." He murmured softly, his cheeks so flushed in shame that even Jim could sense the warmth of them. Jim tried looking back at him, but once more he had to yield his attempts since from his position he couldn't really see anything, the incriminating part securely pressed against him. But the most pressing problem for Jim was actually to reassure the vulcan that nothing would have changed between them. Jim sighed and took the hand away from Spock's side but only to cover the vulcan’s hand once more, slowly and ever so gently letting his pads travel over the smooth back of it, over the mounds and between his fingers. Spock's breath hitched at that and suddenly his shields seemed to shatter and Jim was engulfed in waves of love and desire, emotions so intense that they were almost scorching against his mind. Jim closed his eyes, breathing erratically, and with a soft moan tried pressing himself better against the hot body behind himself. "Spock- darling." He murmured, cracking a smile when Spock's emotions seemed to be rippled by something different that felt a lot like longing and hope. "I don't care if you're different from others. You are unique, Spock. I've always known that." He murmured, slowly moving his fingers between Spock's, up until he was almost covering his hand and down again to press the tips against the tender skin between those long fingers. "I've always known you were unique, even before knowing of your hybrid status. And I wouldn't want you any different from how you are." Spock trembled behind him, his fingers pressing against Jim's chest almost as if he feared he would soon change his mind and try getting away from him. "I do not want to lose you because I tried having more than what I could." "You can have everything, Spock. God knows I want everything from you." Jim smiled, slowly prying Spock's hand from his chest to bring it to his mouth. Ever so gently he pressed his lips against the vulcan't pads. The hitching in the breath behind him made his cock throb in desire, but Jim kept his focus on what he was doing. He parted his lips to let his tongue flick over the tip of Spock's index finger, against the short and perfectly trimmed nail, before grazing it with his teeth. Spock let a soft whine escape from his lips, his hips starting to move of their own volition against the human. "Jim-" The strangled sound seemed to take even Spock by surprise, and he tried wrapping himself better around the human, lifting himself on one elbow to reach with his lips the corner of Jim's mouth, stealing his attention from his fingers to press a kiss over his lips. One kiss was followed by one more and another after that, until Jim parted his lips and Spock was able to plunge his tongue in his mouth for a passionate kiss. "I want everything you want to give me..." Jim murmured between kisses, noticing he had moved his hand in Spock's hair only when he found himself tugging those black strands to keep Spock close. Spock was breathless by then, but his brown eyes managed to convey all the longing and love that he wouldn't permit himself to voice yet. He hesitated for barely a second before giving a curt nod of his head, stealing a chaste kiss from Jim's lips as if he needed it to gather his strength. Then, even if it seemed to be a hardship taking his hand away from Jim's hold, Spock nonetheless did so to slowly push his pants down. There was a sharp intake of breath from both of them when finally they were able to feel each other skin on skin. Spock seemed to melt against him with a long moan and he went back to brushing his lips against Jim's neck as he once more pressed himself against the human's asscheeks. Jim moaned softly and pressed back against him with his eyes closed. He licked his lips, about to tell Spock that he didn't feel anything strange in that, when suddenly an unexpected movement made him open his eyes in surprise. Spock heard the sudden intake of breath from Jim and wrapped his arm around the man once more, almost as if trying to remind Jim of his promise to not run for the hills. The fear mingled to the desire and longing Spock was exuding managed to ground Jim and he didn't even try to turn and take a peek at him, trusting that Spock would have never hurt him in the first place. Still Jim was unable to suppress a gasp when what felt extremely like a lithe lubed tendril pressed against his opening, slowly pushing inside of him. Not big enough to hurt in its movements, not too thin to not be felt. If Jim had any doubt on if that was Spock's organ or not, the soft moan that came from behind him was all the answer he needed. He tried to relax, his curiosity and interest piqued, and tried squeezing his muscles around the intrusion. That managed to get a louder moan out of Spock and Jim cracked a grin, wondering how it was possible that "that" managed to move on its own without Spock moving his hips of an inch. But his question flew out of his mind as soon as the tendril managed to find its way to his prostate, insistently pressing against it and making him cross his eyes in pleasure. "Oh!" The loud groan that escaped his lips seemed to give Spock more confidence and suddenly Jim felt another lithe tendril press against his opening, followed close by another. Soon Jim wasn't able to keep his voice down anymore, not with three tendrils moving inside of him at different tempos, driving him crazy and slowly but surely opening him up. Spock moaned at feeling Jim's desire and pleasure spike up and he seemed unable to stop himself from caressing him with his hand well open, touching every inch of the human's skin he could reach. "Jim..." Jim whined softly, nodding his head. He had no idea what more Spock could ask of him, but whatever that was he was more than ready to let Spock just take it, to let him do whatever he wanted to his body and mind. He was so out of his mind for the new experience and the pleasure that Spock was managing to give him that it took him a fourth, slightly bigger, tendril pushing inside of him to finally realize that maybe vulcans might have had some kind of tentacled reproductive organ. That could have actually explained a good chunk of their secrecy around their sexual encounters, since they seemed ashamed already just at the thought of telling outworlders that their freaking hands were an erogenous zone. "Ashal-veh..." Jim sighed deeply at that, his cheeks flushing a deep red at recognizing the endearment, and couldn't help the rush of affection he felt for Spock. He nodded his head, rolling his hips to try and coax Spock into giving him more. And Spock delivered, parting his lips to actually bite his neck where Jim's pulse was more perceptible, sucking at the tender skin. Jim was left gasping, surprised that Spock would really do that, go there for a hickey with the chance of everybody seeing the mark on him in just a couple hours. But Spock didn't seem to think too much of it, for once not overthinking his every move and letting instead his instinct speak up. Slowly Jim found himself filled by more of Spock's, his thighs trembling for the pleasure of it. Spock let go of his skin only to lap at the purple mark he had just left on his Captain. He swallowed, close enough to Jim's ear that the man heard it clearly, and sneaked one hand back on Jim's cock. He wrapped his fingers around it, smiling softly at the groan that escaped the human's lips, at seeing Jim throw his head back in pleasure, and slowly started to pump it. Jim understood Spock was trying to keep him distracted with that only when one tendril way thicker than the previous ones slowly started pushing inside of him, leaving him breathless and with eyes wide open. Spock moaned obscenely behind him, clearly too lost in pleasure at finally being completely in him, and finally he started moving his hips. Jim went cross eyed with a loud moan when Spock's erection started sliding out of him only for the vulcan to thrust once more in him, pressing all those tendrils deep inside of him together, the slickest ones still moving around the thicker one, the one that was actually making Jim feel almost as if he was losing his virginity once more. Jim bit the pillow in a futile attempt to suffocate a scream of pleasure when Spock managed to have part of himself still brush instistently against Jim's prostate while he kept thrusting in and out of him. It was maddening and at the same time the best sex Jim had ever had. He surrendered himself to Spock, moaning at every movement of the vulcan, loving the way he took him fast and hard, the sounds of their love making so loud in the little room he almost expected their guests to just know how "united" the two of them were. "Jim- Jim..." Spock whispered, voice strained against his ear, unable to still keep his shields up and letting Jim feel exactly how incredulous and grateful he was that Jim still wanted him, accepted him for how he was even though no one had ever wanted him so before. Suddenly Jim noticed how he had grabbed Spock’s arm in an attempt to hold on against the onslaught of those powerful snaps of Spock's hips. It took a bit of effort but he let it go, letting instead his hand slide along the vulcan's forearm, wrapping his fingers for a couple seconds around his wrist before he changed his mind, ultimately covering the hand Spock had around his cock. Spock let out a surprised moan and Jim grinned, wrapping his fingers better over the other’s, holding tighter to have Spock not only tighten the hold around him but to have him experience the full attack of his emotions and pleasure. Spock hid his face against Jim's shoulder, his motions becoming frantic as he approached the edge. "Jim..." The pitiful way he called his name was enough for Jim to know exactly how close Spock was and he nodded his head, leading the vulcan into stroking his cock faster, to rotating the wrist exactly like he liked, thrusting his hips into the other's hold until he was cumming in hot waves all over the bedsheets and Spock's fingers. The way he suddenly tensed, squeezing his muscles around Spock's erection, managed to be enough to strip the vulcan of any means to still hold back and suddenly he was dragged over the edge by Jim. A hoarse moan escaped him and Spock gave one last thrust, pressing himself flush against Jim in an attempt to not leave a single inch of space between them as he slowly poured his semen in him. Jim relaxed in his embrace, trying to catch his breath with a grin plastered on his face, almost unbelieving that he had just been fucked raw by his First Officer. Spock was probably too tired and out of it to even think about putting up his shields, because he seemed able to read Jim's mind. He hummed softly at his thoughts, brushing his lips slowly behind Jim's ear. The human couldn't help but smile wider with pride at knowing that he was the sole responsible for rendering Spock speechless. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that actually elicited a snort out of Spock. Slowly he pried open Spock's fingers to move his hand over his own chest and have the vulcan press the palm over his beating heart. Spock held his breath for a moment at that, but a second after he moved one leg over Jim's, trying to wrap himself better around the human. "Mine." He murmured on Jim's ear. "You better claim me as yours." Jim tried going for a joke, and was awarded with a little kiss on the line of his jaw. "I will, ashayam." Spock murmured with what was a real smile on his lips, his joy so strong that even Jim was able to sense it through the contact of their skin. They laid in bed side by side looking at each other, the light of day slowly brightening the room more and more, but still Jim was reluctant to get up. As he told the vulcan, they had at least three more hours till they were to get out of there for the meeting. Spock offered no protest at that, no logical reason to get out of bed, and instead merely nodded his head on the pillow and pushed one leg between Jim's, looking for a comfortable way to still reiterate that he wasn't letting the man go away from him any time soon. Jim couldn't help but smile at that sight, a warm and fuzzy feeling swarming in his chest, and reached out to move back Spock’s black hair from his forehead. The brown eyes of his lover shone with love, following his every move, softening even more when Jim inched closer to press his lips gently against his. They had ended up stripping completely of their clothes, preferring to just cover themselves with the bedsheets while they kept touching and caressing each other. Jim took the chance to lift the sheets and finally peek at whatever was that Spock had used to drive him crazy not half an hour before. He grinned openly at seeing Spock blush under his inspection, the green spreading from his face and neck to his chest. But he didn't stop Jim from observing him, even if he still didn't look too comfortable. Jim inched closer to him, caressing one naked hip and licking his lips, trying to project reassuring feelings for him to latch on. At a casual look it seemed a mostly normal cock, but upon closer inspection Jim noticed that it was in fact made of little tendrils that would keep close to one another, the thin ones surrounding a larger one that didn't look too different from a human cock. When he lifted his gaze it was to see the vulnerability raw in the other's gaze, and Jim moved his hand to Spock's cheek, slowly drawing circles over his cheekbone with his thumb. "Hey, it's alright, darling." He murmured, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. "I like it." Spock didn't look too sure though, and so Jim repeated himself with a grin. "I like it, Spock. Didn't you noticed how much earlier?" Spock gave a curt nod after a moment, still unable to relax completely. Jim pressed another kiss on his lips, letting his fingers move until he was caressing the nape of Spock's neck, digits slowly scratching the sensitive skin. "Talk to me." He whispered. Spock reopened the eyes that he had instinctively closed when Jim had started to gently scratch him, and Jim saw his adam apple bob up and down as he looked for words. "I have been told I am too unusual." He murmured after mulling it over for a couple seconds. Through his quiet voice Jim was perfectly able to hear the hurt that that had brought to his friend during the years. "I believe it was one of the reasons my father was afraid I would not be able to find a bondmate." He admitted, unable to look Jim in the eyes. Jim felt compelled to press himself against Spock at that, his lips pressed in a thin line. "Well, don't know if you noticed, but I'm quite enthusiast of it. Of all of you, really." He huffed a smile, leaning in for another kiss and another one after that, pressing Spock back until he was laying on his back. Jim moved over him, covering his face in kisses until the vulnerability in his gaze disappeared, leaving space for a lustful look. At that Jim grinned openly, calling it a victory. "Let me show you how much I love every part of you." He almost purred, leaning down to kiss Spock on the lips before slowly starting to move down his body leaving a trail of kisses and little bites that had Spock moaning and gasping, brown eyes fixed on his human lover. Even if Jim had just reassured him he didn't mind the differences between the two of them Spock couldn't help but tense when he saw the man getting closer and closer to his cock, fearing that upon closer inspection he would decide that no, it wasn't for him. But Jim was exuding only affection and desire and Spock desperately latched on those feelings in hope that Jim could be really different from anyone else he had ever met. Jim stopped only when he found himself eye level with the tangle of tendrils that constituted Spock's cock and couldn't help but grin anew at seeing them twitch as his hot breath hit them. Gently, sparing one glance at the worried face of his lover, he wrapped three fingers around them. Spock held his breath quite loudly at that, surprised, but he finally started relaxing when Jim slowly pumped them as he would have done with a human cock. Another glance up revealed Spock's eyelids flutter and the way he had parted his lips in pleasure. It was enough to send Jim leaning in to lap at the bulbous head of the central tendril, the thickest one, and Spock let out a yelp, grabbing the sheets in his fists. "Jim!" He called the human, almost scandalized. Jim chuckled softly at that reaction, grinning up at him. "Oh, darling, don't tell me I'm the first to do this..." He smiled, but his eyebrows shot up when the flush on Spock's cheeks became more pronounced, confirming so. "Really?" He murmured after a moment, surprised, a couple moments before a new and unexpected wave of possessiveness overcame him. Spock looked suddenly puzzled at him, unable to understand the surge of the new emotion. Jim groaned, starting to pump the tendrils a bit faster. "Oh, darling, there is so much I have to teach you now..." He murmured, voice thick with desire. Spock opened his mouth to probably ask the reason for it but Jim chose that moment to part his lips and stick out his tongue, starting to lick at him, and that had Spock letting out a surprised moan that only grew in volume as Jim made sure to take care of all of his tendrils, leaving not even one uncared for. Soon Jim found out that Spock seemed to know exactly how to move them when he wanted so, and grinned at the flushed vulcan when the more thin ones moved away from the thickest to let Jim free to lavish at it. "Do you like it?" He murmured, just licking the head of it while he kept his First Officer under control, waiting to see him nod his head frantically before opening his mouth more to finally push it past his lips and start to suck him. Suddenly Spock threw his head back with a scream of pleasure, arching on the mattress and pushing himself deeper into Jim's mouth. Jim moaned and started growing hard himself pretty fast at that sight, but instead of taking care of himself he relaxed his throat and went down on that cock even more. Spock stopped breathing for a moment, shocked by the pleasure that sent running through him. Jim hoped Spock's shields were still down as he drew lazy circles with his hands on his lover's hips, trying desperately to project to the vulcan that he was free to relax or simply fuck his throat, whatever he preferred more. His plan seemed to succeed since Spock's breath loudly itched in his throat, a moment before he brought his hands on Jim's head and tentatively started moving his hips. Jim closed his eyes, enjoying it immensely, and tried opening his mouth more when the other tendrils started poking at his lips, trying to find a way inside of his mouth with the thickest one. Jim was more than happy to wrap his lips around them all, sucking Spock as he had dreamed of for years. Jim let him take command of it and simply tried to give him as much pleasure he could, enjoying the grunts and moans that fell from Spock's lips until he was tensing up and slowly filling his mouth of his semen with a drawn out moan. He waited to let it go until Spock let himself fall back on the mattress, short of breath and undone, and only then Jim crawled over his lover with a big grin, chastely kissing his lips. Spock merely looked at him from under his half closed eyelids, sighing with satisfaction. "Do you believe me now?" Jim murmured, stroking one green cheek with the back of his fingers. "Yes, ashayam." Spock whispered with a little smile that had Jim's heart racing once more. *** There wasn’t really any way for Jim to suppress his smile even after they had left the bedroom picked for them by their hosts, but the glances he kept throwing at his First Officer and the way Spock made sure to walk closer to him than the previous day, only managed to put their hosts in a good mood.Soon they were granted audience by the heads of state and Jim’s smile grew even bigger when Spock lifted his hand, two fingers ready for Jim to press into.

It was a damn good thing he wasn’t afraid of heights. But then again, a fear of heights was a luxury no sailor could afford. From climbing the rigging to patching the sails to keeping watch high in the crow’s nest; many of their duties consisted of hanging by the knees twenty feet off the deck. Every movement of the ship was magnified in the crow’s nest. The slightest rocking of the hull translated into a swinging motion by the long mast that support the look-out. In the beginning, the swaying had made Akihito horribly sick. His first time keeping watch, he had ended up barfing over the side of the crow’s nest, showering the crew below with remnants of his breakfast; hardtack biscuits and black bean mash. Most had thought it was terribly funny and loved to rib Akihito about it. Unfortunately the majority of it had landed on Captain Kuroda, ruining his fancy new captain’s hat and staining his blue uniform with the brass buttons. He was still holding a bit of a grudge. Which is why keeping watch soon became Akihito’s favorite duty. Even if it was a little boring and nauseating. It was the one time he was able to get away from the watchful eye of the captain. And the worst of the duties he always got stuck with. Cleaning the chamber pots, scrubbing the deck, washing the pots, taking care of the sick. If it was a messy job and smelled bad, Akihito could always be sure that Captain Kuroda would come looking for him. He had really hoped to become a ship’s carpenter. He was the son of a blacksmith and very good with his hands. But that position was already filled on all the ships at port, so he had signed up for deckhand on the first decent boat he could find. He had really gotten very lucky. The Dracaena really was a beautiful ship. It had to be. Her primary purpose was as a passenger vessel. Taking English passengers to and from the colonies in the Caribbean . Because of that, they weren’t much of a target for pirates. In fact, that had encountered a pirate ship or two already as they entered Caribbean waters, but they were not interested in passenger ships. It was the merchant ships they aimed for. They were on their way to the Barbados with a cargo hold full of Protestants. Akihito shivered. They were a prim, prissy lot. Full of vinegar and hellfire and eager to convert the raucous sailors into good Christians. Whatever that meant. God help anyone who got cornered by the preacher. But there was one passenger that Akihito didn’t mind quite so much. Akihito sighed and looked down over the people on deck. The one he was looking for wasn’t there. She would have been easy to spot, as the only other blond on board besides him. She was beautiful. And funny and sweet. And she had taken a bit of a shine to him. She even let him called her Momo, instead of Lady Momohara Ai, as the rest of the crew was expected to address her. Akihito knew it was absurd to have a crush on a fine English lady like that. Especially one that was already engaged to the governor of the colony they were taking her to. But that couldn’t stop him from dreaming…. Akihito’s beautiful blue eyes clouded over with his daydreams as he relaxed high in the crow’s nest. His eyes matched the clear sky above and the brilliant sea below. The wind was high and they were making excellent speed. His golden hair flew back out of his eyes, sparkling in the sun. What Akihito didn’t realize was that he was in fact, far more beautiful than Lady Ai. He had the kind of beauty that was legendary. If he had not been born a male, it would have been his ticket into any palace in the world. But Akihito didn’t know that. In fact, he had hardly ever seen his own reflection. A blacksmith’s son was not the type of person who spent much time lounging in front of mirrors. Even less after his father had died and the English government had taken their home as payment for back taxes. All that was left for Akihito was the military or taking a job as a sailor. He had always wanted to sail. It was everything he had ever imagined it to be. He loved it. Vindictive captain, seasickness and all. He was so happy, his blue eyes sparkling, his full lips parted in a smile as he daydreamed. He didn’t even notice the other ship that came into view of the port side until it was far closer than it should have been. As soon as he noticed it, he hollered down to the rest of the crew to alert them and fumbled for the spyglass, holding the long telescope up to his eye as he tried to assess whether the other ship was a threat or not. She flew no flags. That immediately made him suspicious. He looked carefully over the crew. They were clean and well-kept. As was the boat. The other pirates ships he had seen were filthy, crew included. There wasn’t a eye patch or a parrot in sight… Aki drew a sigh of relief. It probably wasn’t a pirate ship. And even if it was, the ship wasn’t changing course to attack them. In fact, they were headed diagonally in the other direction and showed no sign of changing their path. Akihito continued to survey the other ship curiously. It was big, but long. A sleek hull made for speed and painted black with pitch to reduce drag and make her even more water tight. Obviously a wealthier ship. Akihito wondered what it was for. He moved the spyglass down the deck until he reached the bridge and stopped in surprise. An enormous man stood at the helm, clothed all in black, his muscular legs braced wide apart as he looked back at Akihito through a similar spyglass. Aki jumped when he realized the man was probably looking right at him. He laughed, dropped the spyglass down on his hip and waved cheerfully. No sense in not being friendly to a fellow sailor. He put the spyglass back up to his eye. The other man had dropped his. He stared intently at Akihito’s ship. He had the blackest hair and the most handsome face Akihito had ever seen. Broad shoulders and enormous arms. And golden eyes! Akihito gasped as he noticed them through the telescope. He had golden eyes…. To Akihito’s surprise, the dark haired man grinned wide. He strode to the helm. He began shouting orders and the men scurried about him. Huh. Must be the captain. Akihito continued to watch, wondering what they were doing. To his horror, he noticed they were changing course, turning on a dime and giving chase to the Dracaena. His heart froze in his chest as he saw a black flag with a red crest rise to the top of the tallest mast. The Black Dragon. The most feared and infamous pirate in all of the Caribbean. His feats were legendary. And no one, no one had ever outrun his ship, the Sion. Yes, even a novice sailor like Akihito knew the name of THAT ship. He shouted down to the captain who in turn gave the call to arms and the crew on deck below nearly broke into a panic. He descended from the crow’s nest as quick as his nimble feet were able. No sooner had his feet touched the deck than the boom of a cannon rang in his ears, the deck under his feet trembling. The cannon ball careened across the bow and splashed in the water a few feet to starboard. Had they missed? Akihito looked around in confusion. The crew had been preparing the ship to run, drawing the sails and prepping for speed. They had very limited ability to fight back. It was their only chance if they didn’t want to be boarded by the pirates. Akihito could see the indecision on Captain Kuroda’s face and he realized that the captain didn't know what to do. He wanted to fight, but they were hopelessly outmatched. And the galleon was much too slow to be able to outrun what was well known to be the fastest ship in the Caribbean. A moment later, the pirates fired a second broadside, this one was loaded with grapeshot and fired into the rigging. This time, the entire crew recognized it for what it was. Grapeshot would do no real damage to the sails, but it would be devastating if fired along the deck, slicing through skin and flesh like nothing. That shot wasn't meant to do damage, it was meant as a warning. Normally, the captain would have risked it. He would have run. They were not far from English waters and possible colonial protection. But this wasn't a normal voyage. He had the Arch Duke's daughter aboard. The fiancee of the governor of the Barbados. Broadsides of grapeshot could kill the young woman, even if she wasn't really a target. It could kill a lot of the passengers. So, with a heavy heart, the captain ordered his flag down and surrendered his ship. The Sion turned silently toward the English galleon and closed the distance fast. Grappling hooks hit the side of the vessel before Akihito was even ready and pirates were running nimbly over several narrow makeshift bridges. Even the largest among them climbed like monkeys across the narrow planks of wood as it moved with the ups and downs of the waves. They swarmed over the decks subduing the feeble resistance of the English crew. They were damned efficient and Aki could tell they had done this many times before. There was no sense in fighting. The battle had been lost the moment the Sion had given chase. Akihito stood in the shadows, half hidden between the passenger quarters and the pirates. His keen mind was racing. There was no reason a pirate ship should beset a passenger ship. They carried nothing but the most basic of sustenance. Most of the passengers were very poor, moving to the colonies to find work as indentured servants. There was only one passenger that had any value. Only one passenger that could fetch her weight in golden ransom; Lady Ai. Akihito felt his blood boil. He would not let these filthy dogs lay one hand on her. He slipped quietly in the shadows, sliding to place where Captain Kuroda had hung his coat. He had seen him do it from the crow’s nest. It had been a particularly warm day and he had taken that off as well as his swordbelt. A razor sharp rapier hung in its sheath and Akihito slid it out silently. He may have been a blacksmith’s son. But that blacksmith had made some of the finest swords in all of England. His secret was that he had been an expert swordsman himself and therefore had far more expertise and insight into the design of a blade than a blacksmith who only knew how to pound metal flat. He had taught his son well. Akihito palmed the hilt of the sword and held it. Waiting to see if the pirates would make a move on the passenger cabins. Poor Lady Ai was probably terrified. Akihito gritted his teeth in determination. He would save her or die trying he thought dramatically. Men swarmed over the deck, seemingly directed by their captain. Akihito’s eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders as he shouted out orders commandingly. He was tall, and his thick, jet black hair was tied back brushing the collar of a white linen shirt. Black breeches clung to his muscular thighs disappearing into knee-high polished black leather boots. His hand rested on the jeweled hilt of a sword in a silver scabbard. The darkhaired man was walking back and forth impatiently on the deck of the ship. His eyes passed over the English crew as if he was looking for someone. He stopped in front of the kneeling captain and spoke. The wind was high and it was impossible for Akihito to tell exactly what he had said. All he heard was the word ‘where’ and ‘blond’. Other than him, Lady Ai was the only other on board with golden locks. He gripped the hilt of the sword hard in terrified determination as heavy bootsteps brought the enormous raven haired pirate closer to where Aki stood protectively in front of the passenger quarters. His eyes pierced the dark shadows and fell on the tiny, young blond. Akihito felt sure he knew why they called him the Black Dragon now. Those glowing golden eyes traveled the entire length of his body coming to rest on his face. Akihito was startled by the lust and appreciation that was written on his handsome features. It threw him off a bit… wasn’t he looking for Lady Ai? He stopped a yard away with a smirk. Akihito tried to quell the cold knot of fear in his stomach. The pirate was even bigger up closer. He towered over him. Akihito was sorely outmatched on height and muscle. His voice was deep and flowed over him seductively when he finally spoke. “Hello little one.” Akihito glared at him, bristling in anger at the mocking tone and raised the sword in challenge, “If you want to get to them, you have to go through me.” The pirate’s tone was incredulous, “While the rest of your crew surrenders like the pathetic cowards they are, you alone would fight to protect the ship and its passengers? Against me and all my men?” He gestured behind him where the captain of the Dracaena and the rest of the crew kneeled submissively, despite outnumbering the pirates nearly three to one. Captain Kuroda at least had the decency to blush as he overheard the pirate mocking him. Akihito decided not to dignify that with an answer. He inclined his head slightly, his blue eyes blazing with fire and assumed the perfect fencing stance with one arm slightly back and his hand and fingers arched. The pirate took in the sight before him and raised one black eyebrow in question before assuming the stance himself, drawing his own sword. The duel began. Akihito could tell the Black Dragon was taking it easy on him. Holding back. He knew better than to think the man had conquered the Caribbean with these paltry skills. Akihito held back a bit too. Trying to figure out exactly what the hell his own plan WAS. Because even if he won the duel, there were still over twenty pirates behind him. The pirate seemed to read his mind. Between sword thrusts he spoke again, irritatingly calm, “What’s your plan, little one?” Akihito scowled at him for calling him out, batting his sword down as he sidestepped, “I’m working on it!” They fought on. Akihito was unaware that both crews were watching with interest; focused entirely on the duel. The English crew was astounded by the extraordinary skill exhibited by the tiny cabin boy. Captain Kuroda’s mouth was hanging open, just a little. As their swords crossed and they fought to hold one another off, their faces mere inches apart; the pirate gave him a seductive smile and asked, "May I make a suggestion?" Akihito snarled up at the much larger man before throwing him back off balance with a strong shove, “What?” “I’ll make a deal with you.” They were circling each other now. Each one breathing a little heavy. Spirited blue eyes fixed on intense golden ones. “A wager. The fate of this ship, resting on the outcome of this duel.” Akihito tilted his head in interest, “I’m listening.” The pirates eyes took on a predatory glint. “If you win this duel, we will retreat. My crew and I shall return to our ship and never bother you again. You will have safe passage assured, in and out of the Caribbean, forevermore.” Akihito’s full lips curved in an ironic smile, “And if I lose?” “You will come with me and serve me for the rest of your natural life.” Aki’s eyes widened. That was basically slavery! And there had to be a catch, surely the Black Dragon had no intention of taking ONLY him…. “What’s the catch, Dragon? What about the rest of the passengers? And why would you want me?” There was a twinkle in those eyes that Akihito didn’t trust. The pirate drawled his reply, slowly circling closer as Akihito backed away, “No catch. I’ll leave the rest of the passengers alone and take only you. As it happens, I find myself sorely in need of a cabin boy.” It was fishy. Why would the pirates risk boarding an English galleon so close to the colonies only to walk away with one worthless cabin boy? But he also didn’t see that he had much of a choice. If there was a chance he could save the Duke’s daughter from falling into the hands of these ruffians, he was going to take it. He nodded curtly, “Deal!” Akihito became the aggressor, immediately putting the other man on the defense and adding strength and speed to his thrusts. However, the pirate also stepped up the pace and met each of his sword thrusts with an equally as skillful parry. Aki had been trained by the best, but he couldn’t help but be impressed by the other man’s skill and elegant finesse. He was certainly not a typical pirate. It was almost as if he had a nobleman’s training. They fought on, each one enjoying the duel and appreciative of the other’s skill, but both determined to win. As much as it irritated him. Akihito couldn’t help but notice the way the Dragon’s enormous muscles flexed as he moved with an almost feline grace across the deck of the ship as Aki pursued him with his sword. The way his shirt lay open, his bare muscular chest glistening with sweat. He was extremely handsome, with his jet-black hair and strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones. Although, Akihito found it utterly infuriating the way he arched one dark eyebrow at him each time his sword passed millimeters from the pirate’s skin. It almost seemed like genuine surprise, but then again; it was also possible he was mocking him. Despite the pirate’s much longer reach and much greater strength, it was obvious that Akihito was actually the better swordsman. Much quicker, skillful and more nimble. The two opponents were equally matched and both were beginning to show signs of fatigue. As they crossed swords and stood face to face, almost nose to nose, the Dragon’s eyes flashed and he whispered tauntingly, "To the victor go the spoils” Akihito retorted with a toss of his golden head, "It matters not to you, for you will not be the victor." The Dragon laughed a full-bodied laugh at Akihito’s confidence. "Ah, my beautiful one, you are a trifle overconfident. If you concede your loss now, I will go much easier on you." Akihito’s eyes widened in surprise at the endearment, before narrowing in anger. He sputtered in contempt, "Easier? I hate to disappoint you, but it is you who should admit defeat now and save yourself the embarrassment of losing in front of your crew." That dark eyebrow arched again and Akihito took advantage of his inattention. Swiping the blade quickly under the other man’s sword, catching the fabric of his shirt and tearing it open, exposing his rippling abdomen and scratching his stomach lightly. The shock on his face was worth it and it was Aki’s turn to raise a sarcastic eyebrow and smirk. The pirates were hooting and hollering in the background. It actually looked like they had started wagering…. The Dragon dropped his head back and laughed. It boomed across the deck and Akihito was momentarily distracted by the oddness of it. And his gorgeous white teeth. His amazing smile…. The pirate took advantage of Akihito’s distraction to reach around and smack the side of his ass with the flat of his own blade, grinning lecherously. Akihito jumped. His blue eyes going wide with shock. He hadn’t been touched by another blade since he was thirteen. What the hell? He narrowed his eyes and returned to the fight with renewed vigor. He had not lost a fencing match since he was a child. The Dragon might not be taking him seriously. but that would be to his own detriment. He ducked, thrusted and parried, his silver blade slashing almost too fast to be seen. The pirate was barely keeping up, blocking his passes. But his reach…. it was a bitch to deal with. In order to get a hit, Akihito had to get well within striking distance of the Dragon’s blade. But he was too quick and his blocks too good for the Dragon to even come close to catching him. They moved back and forth across the deck, steel on steel, clashing and clanging. Akihito wanted to laugh as he saw the other man’s brow actually beginning to bead with sweat. Well, until his own sweat began to run into his eyes. Neither made any progress. They were both breathing hard, panting for breath. Suddenly the pirate’s foot lashed forward in an advance lunge, taking Akihito off guard. It was a dirty move but not illegal in fencing. He stumbled forward, recovering quickly and thrusting his sword up, stopping just short of the pirate’s throat. He was obviously not expected Akihito to recover so quickly. The darkhaired man froze, the tip of a razor sharp rapier resting on his Adam’s apple as Akihito advanced, pushing him backwards. Akihito’s blue eyes glowed with triumph. He smirked, questioning quietly, “Surrender?” What he saw in those golden eyes was not defeat. Not fear. He saw intense lust and desire… almost rapturous. It completely threw him off and he pulled back a bit. The Dragon moved forward and Akihito relented, not truly wishing to slit his throat. He kept moving forward, coming into Aki’s space. Towering over him. “Stop!” He cried, pushing the blade back against his throat. A single drop of red blood red down his neck, trailing over his chest and disappearing into his black shirt. Akihito watched its path and the Dragon moved forward again. Akihito’s innocent, frightened eyes met his. “You’re a fighter, but you are not a killer little one.” Aki frowned in confusion, “How do you know?” "Because of this," he murmured huskily. He dropped his sword, dipping his head to cover Akihito’s mouth with his own. He moved forward into the blade and Akihito pulled it back immediately as it began to penetrate his skin. He would have run himself through if Aki had not yielded. He had gambled, but he was right. Akihito couldn’t kill him, even though he was a pirate, even if it meant surrendering. A strong hand grabbed the hand that held the hilt of the sword, while another reached around and grabbed his ass, squeezing it hard. The sword was ripped from his grasp and dropped onto the deck to join the Dragon’s. He moaned in protest against his mouth as it moved firmly over his, his tiny fists beating at the pirate’s broad shoulders. He kissed him soundly, thoroughly, stealing all the breath from Akihito’s lungs before pulling back with a smirk. Looking down at the beautiful boy's dazed and confused expression. He laughed. “I win.” The other pirates were laughing their own asses off at the horrified expressions on the English sailors faces. The Dragon called over to them, “Back to the ship!” He looked down at Akihito and smirked, “I got what I came for.” With a muffled scream of protest, he was scooped up against the solid warmth of his chest, his tanned arm anchoring Akihito’s hips to him as he walked across the plank to the pirate's ship. Too terrified of falling to fight back, his eyes widened as they gazed down at the water so far below, dark and shadowy between the heaving ships. Unconsciously, his hands clung to the man’s strong shoulders, wrapping fearfully around his neck and the pirate’s strong arms crushed the boy to his chest. He jumped from the plank and landed on his feet like a large jungle cat, and slowly lowered Akihito’s feet to the deck of the Sion. Rubbing his body against the Dragon's own much larger, harder one. A blush warmed his cheeks and he was unable to meet the golden eyes laughing down at him. He bit his lip as he watched the grappling hooks removed from the Dracaena, the remaining pirates swinging back on board the ship. His eyes met Captain Kuroda’s and he was startled when he realized the Captain had his hat off. He and the rest of the crew were bowing to the pirate ship. Bowing to HIM, he realized. Before he could even register the significance of what that meant, his upper arm was caught in a firm grip, and his eyes swung up to meet his captor's. "Lock him in my cabin," he ordered to someone over Akihito’s shoulder, never taking his eyes from Aki’s. His lips parted on a soundless gasp as an enormous blond pirate wrapped a rope around his wrists. He began to struggle as the man pulled him toward the steps that led below. A solemn looking man in glasses who had not been with the raiding party walked up to the Dragon and looked over at Akihito who was raising hell on the deck as the blond mountain tried to drag him to the captain’s quarters. He looked more like a scholar than a pirate. He asked his captain incredulously, “That’s what we boarded the British galleon for? Risking our necks in colonial waters? Just for that... kid?” The Dragon’s eyes were glowing with hot fire as he watched the blond hellcat who had bewitched him through the spyglass make mincemeat of his strongest pirate. He smirked and replied to his first mate, “Not all treasure is gold Kirishima. Not all treasure is gold.” - Need more? There's a LOT more! 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Izuku would say he had a fine memory. He remembered the first picture he drew out of crayons and hung it on the fridge by a magnet; the first football he received; the first action figure he got; the first friend he made; the first time his friend hit him; the first time his friend left a burn mark on him, the first time his friend turned into his tormentor, the first time he understood that life wasn't just what he'd see on television; the first time he figured out that some people had it better than others; the first time he set a goal for his dreams, the first time his dreams were mocked; the first time he didn't cry over a wound, and the first time he felt truly alone in this world. He had a road; he just didn't know where to go. He had the door of opportunity; he just didn't have the key. He had to keep trying, but that got harder and harder with each passing day. Sometimes, he wondered what life was all about. Yes, he'd keep living, but then what? Where should he go? And that thought – that thought he kept pushing down to keep his sanity was tattooed in the back of his mind: Everyone dies eventually. He's going to die. He was going to stop existing, just like those who had passed away before him. He was dying, with each passing day, the hours, minutes, seconds eating away at his lifespan. Life was a merry-go-round, spinning in an endless, repetitive loop without actually going anywhere. He wasn't sure when everything started to blur. Time meant nothing anymore, and while walking to class, people started to blend into the background, turning into nothing but smudged up colors and buzzing noises his brain couldn't understand. The only things his could hear were his footsteps. He recognized the empty hole in his chest. He'd had it before. It hurt. He tried to ignore it, scribbling into his notebook. He hadn't felt like this since… since he had been Quirkless… he'd been so alone…. But… but he had his friends now! Real friends! So why did the angry snake in his gut keep returning? Why? Why couldn't it just leave him be? "Midoriya." Izuku looked up. "Come up here and solve this," the teacher told him. "Ah – yes, sir." He had to hold on, just until classes were over. This was such bad timing. He'd been feeling sluggish all morning. The last time this had happened, he had a full on mental breakdown in his room. He couldn't let it happen here. Keep calm, stay still, no one will notice. … He wasn't sure why it came and went. He wasn't that Quirkless loser who couldn't do anything. He was a student, a UA student, at that. So why now…? Izuku slammed his dorm room shut loudly before leaning against it, slowly sliding down and to the ground. The angry snake curled and uncurled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to throw up – he wanted to beat his own abdomen because that feeling in his gut was driving him insane. He hugged his middle, a tiny wail squeezed out of his throat. He hadn't changed out of his grey school uniform. He didn't feel like it. His body told him 'I don't want to move' so he just stayed like that on the floor. Half of the lights in his room weren't turned on. Good. He needed to calm down. Why was he panicking? Nothing – absolutely nothing worth panicking over was happening. Calm down, you wimp. But it was hard. It was hard, when he felt many invisible chains swarm his body. He felt them, crawling up his ankles and shoulders and around his neck, suffocating him. "You're Quirkless – what do you think you can do?" They tightened. "You? A Hero? You've got to be kidding–" They tightened. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut. "Useless Deku–" Stop. It hurt. "–give up already." Stop it. Please… "Good for nothing loser. Can't do anything–" I'm trying. I'm really trying! I swear – No, you useless shit. You aren't. You are nothing. All Might made a mistake when he decided to give you One For All. He made a mistake, because you are a mistake. You'd die, and no one would notice. You'd die, and no one would give a damn. You'd die, and the world would keep spinning. "Stop…" Izuku whimpered and hugged himself. The tension in his gut was eating him alive. Fat tears stung his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He rubbed at them with his arm. The snake never left him alone, no matter where he went. It was with him, always, hiding in a tight ball in his stomach, waiting for him to lower his guard. It would try to crawl up his just and throat. Izuku's hands trembled as he clutched at his clothes, his knuckles going white. The snake was eating him – eating him from the inside. It wanted to nibble its way out. Each bite hurt because Deku was a weak shit who couldn't even save himself. "Get it through your thick skull already, nerd – you can't be a hero!" He chocked. Vomit. He needed to vomit. The snake was already at his throat. He heard panting, and it took him a few minutes to realize it was coming from him. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. Just calm down. His heart rammed at his chest. Even his own heart wanted to kill itself. He felt a pluck and noticed his grey uniform slacken. Oh, he had popped off one of the uniform buttons due to his uncontrolled grip. Sweat began to gather around his neck and over his back. The knock on his door almost gave him a heart attack. "Gah!" He yelped and grabbed over his heart. He already felt like dying. He didn't need any jump scares. "Mi… Midoriya?" Iida called from behind the door. "Midoriya, is everything alright? You seemed unwell in class today." He sounded worried. Answer him. Answer him – oh god, he's still standing right behind you just stop being useless and answer him already! "I'm…" His voice came out as a squeak. He swallowed it down and tried again, still clutching over his heart. "I'm fine. I'm fine." It didn't sound any better. Iida didn't say anything for a while, until… "I see… May I come in, then?" No. No, you may not. But he couldn't tell Iida that. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Just because Izuku was a mess didn't mean he had to throw his mess at his friend as well. "No, no. I'm…" Izuku sighed, willing the pain to go away. "I'm fine. Really!" He tried to chuckle, but it sounded so fake. He doubted Iida would fall for it. "…Do you need any assistance, Midoriya?" Iida asked carefully, his tune low but clear. "Do you remember what you told me before? If you ever need someone to talk to, you can talk to us. We are your friends. So please, whatever you're dealing with, know you don't have to go through it alone." Iida figured it out. Izuku wasn't himself. Izuku wasn't being Izuku. Izuku panicked even more. His classmates knew he wasn't mentally well. They knew everything. They'd gone through his memories. They'd seen his past. They'd seen him break and crumble and shrink and shrivel away. They'd seen the useless Deku, and knew the useless Deku was still part of him, and would always be part of him. "I'm okay…" Izuku whispered. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Iida, or to himself. "I'm… I'm… I'll be fine. Thanks, Iida. I'm sorry for worrying you. It's nothing." No, it's not. He heard a few more footsteps behind the door, then a few whispers. Izuku wanted to throw up. He slapped a hand over his mouth. Was he actually about to vomit, or was that just a feeling and nothing more? "Hey, Midoriya?" Kirishima. That was Kirishima. "You okay in there, bro?" He asked, knocking on the door. Great. First Iida, now Kirishima. Who's next? "He's still there," Jiro whispered. "I hear him. He's breathing really hard." "I'm… I'm fine!" Izuku blurted out. It was hard to breathe. The snake ate at his insides. It made sure he was feeling every bit of pain he deserved. He heard more whispering, someone mentioning Aizawa, and a few more footsteps. They were trapping him in. they were gathering at his door. The knocked and called him a few more times, but their voices didn't make sense anymore. What did their words mean again? He forgot how to understand human speech. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Then again. Then again. Still bent over with his back against the door, he reached for it with shaky fingers. (6) Unread Messages Kaminari: You ok man Kaminari: ? Kaminari: Iida s worried man he called me Kaminari: srsly everything ok? Kaminari: Im coming over with Sero Kaminari: hold on buddy A fat tear landed on the screen. Izuku sniffed, and he swore he heard the voices behind the door panic. It wasn't a big deal. Why were they making a big deal out of it? They didn't know what was wrong with him. Even he didn't know what was wrong with him. "He's crying," Jiro informed the others. She was still hearing him. "Midoriya, can you let one of us in, please?" Iida asked, and before Izuku could decide what to say or do, he felt the door handle move. He had locked it behind him. "No good. He locked it," Kirishima told them. "Guys!" Kaminari's panted. "What's going on? What happened?" Sero sounded just as tired. They must've ran all the way over. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why were they smothering him? They'd never done that before. He'd never had anyone whenever the Snake grabbed at him. So why now? Was it because they had seen his true, weak self? Useless Deku suddenly mattered? "….You don't think he's gonna hurt himself, do ya?" Kaminari's words slowly sunk in. "Midoriya," Yaoyorozu called gently. "You don't need to tell us what's wrong, but it's alright to lean on your friends." She tried. Izuku wiped his wet nose with his sleeve. "I…" his voice died. A sob rolled out of his wet throat. They most likely heard it. "Deku!" He heard Ochaco's high-pitched voice join the others. "Is – Is he okay?" She was panicking. It sounded like she was close to crying. "He was so quiet today – I should've told to him earlier…" No. It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself, please… "I'm to blame as well," Iida added. "He seemed down today. I wanted to talk to him, but I was too late. I should've spoken with him earlier." "Hey, now, it's not your fault," Kirishima said. "No one could've predicted it'd get worse this fast," Yaoyorozu explained. It. She must've meant his depression. His phone buzzed. They were trying to reach him through his phone. (5) Unread Messages Uraraka: Deku? Uraraka: Are you ok? Uraraka: Are you sad? Uraraka: Its ok to be sad Uraraka: Do you need a hug? (3) Unread Messages Todoroki: Midoriya Todoroki: We will walk away from your room Todoroki: Iida and Uraraka will stay by your door if you need anything Oh… they must've realized gathering by his room would only scare him even more; but they still didn't feel comfortable enough to leave him by himself in such a state, so they left two of his friends close by. They were obviously worried about him. He didn't deserve such kind friends. He wanted to let them know he was alright, but even he wasn't sure why he felt like getting torn from the inside out. He couldn't keep hiding. He couldn't keep pretending nothing was wrong. They were offering to help him anyway they could, but was he worth their time? Grabbing his phone weakly, he looked at the texts sent to him, then clicked on Uraraka's name. He looked up at her questions. Was he okay? Was he sad? Did he need a hug? He sent the only thing he felt: Not sure. He heard her phone ding from behind his door. She was right there, and most likely, so was Iida. They hadn't spoken in a while. His phone buzzed again. (2) Unread Messages Uraraka: im sorry if we bothered you Deku Uraraka: we crowded you we re sorry Izuku wiped his wet eyes with his sleeve. They wanted to help, but didn't know what to do. He couldn't blame them. Even he didn't know what to do. You: its ok You: I'm sorry I worried everyone He wanted to add 'thanks for caring about me' but that would only make him sound selfish. Was he selfish for wanting their attention? He'd never been one to seek attention. All his life, he'd tried to hide from people and kept himself under the radar, because how else would he hide from bullies and pointing fingers and words that sounded more like bullets? (1) Unread Messages Uraraka: do you need time ? Did he? What did he need? He wasn't sure. He was so confused and felt like spewing his guts out. He wanted nothing more than to feel his mom's hug. It was so childish. Whenever the snake attacked him like this, he'd usually crawl under the covers of his bed, or put on his headphones and turn on music he wouldn't remember later on. He didn't know what was happening to him, or why, but he wanted his mom. He wanted someone safe. Someone safe… He looked down at his phone and scrolled through his contacts list. They'd gathered at his door, not because he was injured, not because he was dying, but because they understood he wouldn't ask for help even if he needed it. They understood he was used to being alone, and wanted to let him know he didn't have to be alone anymore. You: are you and Iida still there? (2) Unread Messages Uraraka: yes Uraraka: do you need anything Deku? It took every ounce of his strength to reach up and unlock the door and scoot away. "Deku…?" "Midoriya?" They'd heard the lock click. He needed to get off the floor and talk to them properly. He needed to be respectful. He just didn't have the energy to do so. He was weak… pathetic… "Can we come in, Deku?" Ochaco asked nervously. The door wasn't locked anymore, but they didn't want to barge in without his permission. "Yeah…" that was all he could whisper out before the door slowly cracked open. The two snuck in carefully, and before he knew it, Ochaco dropped to her knees and hugged him. He felt the hard edges of her pink phone in her palm as she squeezed him. Iida made sure to quietly close the door behind him as he knelt to their level. He must've looked like a mess, on the floor and face wet and eyes red-rimmed. His room was mostly dark, which only added to the depressing mood. Izuku slowly melted into Ochaco's embrace. His arms slowly unwrapped from his midsection and dropped them around her. Iida hugged the both of them firmly. "I'm sorry we didn't notice sooner." Izuku shook his head no, sniffing lightly. The snake that had been crawling up his throat had slowed down its wriggling. "I'm… I'm sorry I w-worried you guys…" Ochaco tightened her grip. "Deku… Don't be sad, Deku..." was she crying, too? He couldn't believe how his own emotional breakdown was affecting his friends. "You're not alone anymore, Midoriya," Iida reminded him calmly. Izuku felt Ochaco give a nod in agreement, rubbing her cheek against his. He felt their heartbeats, gentle yet strong; surreal yet so real. He swallowed, and it was much easier now that the snake had crawled back down. He could breathe without feeling nauseous now. Relief. It felt too good – their hold on him was too perfect. Tears rolled down his face freely. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Grabbing fistfuls of Iida and Uraraka's clothes, he ducked his face in between them and cried. They held on to him as he cracked and broke apart from the inside. His chest hurt, but he could breathe. His head throbbed, but his thoughts were clearing. His heart rammed against his chest, but he felt alive – something he hadn't felt in a while. He didn't know how long the three of them stayed like that. His crying slowed to silent tears. "…Thanks guys…" he whispered. His throat hurt, but he felt lighter. He felt Iida pat him on the shoulder. "Would you like me to inform the others?" Izuku thought about it. They were probably still worried out there. He had people waiting for him, not just Uraraka and Iida. "If… if it's not much trouble…" he decided. Iida gave him one last pat on the shoulder before moving away. Uraraka drew away, but then leaned against Izuku's shoulder. Iida gave him an encouraging nod before leaving, closing the door as he left. Izuku sighed and wiped the wetness from his eyes. It was only then did he notice Uraraka's hand in his. A tiny blush brushed his cheeks. How had he not noticed that earlier? "Are… Are you feeling better, Deku?" She asked him quietly, leaning against him. The snake had quietly retreated. Izuku swallowed thickly. "Yeah… Yeah. I am. Thanks…" She squeezed his hand. I'm glad you're better. His phone started buzzing. Izuku dried his cheeks before reaching for his phone, keeping his other hand in Ochaco's. (24) Unread Messages Kirishima: my bro! :D Youre ok! give me a hug Asui: glad you're feeling better Asui: text us if you need anything Kaminari: DUDE you freaked me out! Kaminari: don't scare me like that again man Kaminari: MY CINNAMON ROLL BUDDY! Jiro: Kaminari was crying Jiro: by the way Jiro: Sato left you cupcakes by your door Ashido: Midori! Ashido: you better? :3 Ashido: cause Bakugo was ready to break your door lol Ashido: ps Kaminari was crying XD Todoroki: Iida told us. I'm glad you're feeling better Yaoyorozu: Take as much time as you need Hagakure: You better! ❤❤❤❤ Hagakure: Im so happyyy Sero: hey don't be shy to ask for hugs next time Sero: oh and Kaminari cried for ya lol Ojiro: good to hear you're doing alright Kacchan: DEKU what the fuck did you do?! Kacchan: shitty electro dolt was sniveling Kacchan: I don't care if you're being a crybaby Kacchan: Do that again and I'm breaking that door down Izuku hadn't noticed the small smile spreading across his face. It was weak and wobbly, but a smile none the less. He felt Ochaco's stare. He turned just in time to see her own smile as she threw herself at him for another hug. "I'm so h-happy. You're… you're happy again…" she said, her voice muffled through his shoulder. "We all love you." That was all he needed to hear. He had people who loved him – who never wanted to let him go. And while the snake slept on, he knew he was prepared for it next time. The arms around his neck and the buzzing of his phone were enough to let him know that he had armor to fight the monster.

“Do you really have to leave now?” Joon asked. Jimin gave him a small smile. He couldn’t ask more from his saviors. They already fed him and his pride wouldn’t let him stay with them any longer. “Yes, I have to meet up with a friend.” Jimin lied and this was seen through immediately. He was such a shitty liar. “This late? It is already past dawn.” “Uh… it’s not a friend.. It’s…” Jimin bit his lips. “My.. my brother-“ “You said that you have no family.” Shit. “If you have nowhere to go, you can stay for the night.” Joon offered. Jin on the other hand didn’t even try to hide his horror. “I really can’t take your offer.” Jimin said, feeling guilty. He didn’t want to take advantage of them. “Why not? It is not like we would mind, right?” He asked and Jin shook his head, even though one could see the dismay on his face. “You do not want to stay the night on the streets. What if these men come after you?” Joon had a point... he stayed in the end. But only for tonight!     When he woke up, Jin and Joon were already awake. Jin in the kitchen to make breakfast and Joon sitting on a pad, reading something. “Good mornin’…” Jimin mumbled sleepy, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Did you have a good rest?” Joon asked with a warm smile. “The best.” Jimin smiled back and Joon nodded, misunderstanding what Jimin meant. He thought that Jimin always had to sleep on the streets and never got a warm and save place. But the actual thing was that Jimin was never greeted this warmly since he got here. It was a nice change of surroundings. “What are you reading?” Jimin asked, looking curious at the paper in Joon’s hand. “This? This is for my education.” “Education? For what?” “I want to change the country.” Joon said after a short pause, considering if Jimin would even understand him. “Why?” Guess he didn’t. “Can you not see the things around here? It is just wrong… how the noble treats the folk.” Joon explained even though it would be for nothing. He wanted to talk about his thoughts with someone other than Jin for once. “I know what you mean.” Jimin agreed. “I didn’t get to see much of this city or the world but what I saw yesterday… wasn’t pleasant.” When he walked into this city yesterday, he was greeted with the wrong side – the slums. Joon raised an eyebrow at Jimin’s statement but he continued when he saw the serious look on his face. “Yes, because people in heaven have no reason to think about people in hell.” “But how can you change something by educating yourself?” “Can the dark never win the light? Can the wrong never win the right? Someday I will have enough power to change things.” Joon mumbled. “But first, I need to educate myself.” “Where would you get that power? You can only be born with it… This period is only about the nobles. Nobody even thinks of the people… I mean, who if not them decide and carry our future?” Joon became silent. He was surprised that Jimin could keep up with him. That’s why he carelessly let his thoughts flow out. “Yes, exactly that is my thought! My plan is to give everyone a chance for education. Not only the ones who can afford it. I know that peasants and workers have more ideas for innovation. Who else if not them, know what is best for labor? I want to give them hope for a better life. I want everyone to achieve their own dreams, with their own power, not how they are born. What should peasants tell their children? That they have no chance for a better life? Someday they will be adults too and understand. But what is the point? Tell me… Is it me who is stupid? Is it me who is insane? Or is it them?” “I do know what you mean. We could have so many educated people who could lead us into the next period. Instead of waring for more land, we could educate the children and work together for an innovative world. Get more good brains and let them decide their future for themselves.” Jimin agreed because Joon is talking about the world he originally came from. This man is thinking of the future. He wants everyone to have the same rights that is not determined by blood. “I wish that I could change this but they hold me back.” He sighed. “I got no faith in this system.” He continued. “I hope for better days but hope is not enough. I need to do something… that is why I left my country. I had heard that the recent king of this land is doing great things… so I wanted to see for myself. I have to agree that his way is pretty good but he cannot achieve much if he stays in his palace…” “I agree… how can he know what’s best for his people if he is never here to see what’s wrong? I mean I saw the slums. How blind must he be to not see that? It can only progress when he knows what his countrymen are doing or how they are living. If he would be near them he could tell what they really need.” “You are the first one to understand my statement. I would not have thought that someone shares my opinion.” Joon said in surprise. He was heavily impressed. Especially since the boy came from the streets and wasn’t as educated as him - apparently. “If you want to continue your conversation, do it another time.” Jin said coming out from the kitchen with the pot.     After eating, Jimin offered them to wash the dishes since Jin cooked – and was still injured. Joon had objected because he wanted to continue his talk but Jin gave him a look that made him shut up. When Jimin entered the kitchen to wash the dishes, Jin and Joon left the main room and walked out onto the already busy streets. Their conversation was held in a very low tone to prevent someone to overhear them. “You should not reveal too much, master.” Jin warned. “He is different I want him to come with us.” Joon said without blinking an eye. Jin however was not pleased one bit. “He cannot come with us.” Jin protested. “He would be a burden.” “What burden? Did you not see how he knocked the other guy out yesterday? His physique is so small yet he could handle the other with ease! Plus he is so much more open-minded than everyone we had met. Maybe even more than I am.” “We cannot trust him.” Jin said, still not agreeing. “I want him to come with me. That is my wish…” He said, but seeing Jin’s reaction he had to add: “and an order.” His voice was heavy with dominance. He never wanted to use his authority because he saw Jin more like a friend but the truth was that Jin was his attendant and before, Jin was a slave brought with the money of his parents since he wanted to save the pretty boy. “As you wish.” Jin complied. He couldn’t talk back when his master talked like this. “There you are!” Jimin said, when he found the two men who suddenly disappeared. “What are you doing outside?” “We just had a short talk. Nothing important.” Joon smiled and went inside again, followed by Jin. “I have a proposal to make.” Jimin looked at him with curious eyes. “You can decline if you want but would you like to come with us?” “What?” Jimin was surprised because he would have never thought that they would ask him something like that. “I thought that you would like to come with us since you have no place to stay but if you do not want to, it is-“ “I mean I would gladly, yes!” Jimin said happy. Joon smiled pleased. “We should get going. It is not save to stay too long in one place.” Jin butted in, not happy at all. Jimin was confused. Why would it not be save for them to stay in one place? Because it was surely for him dangerous to stay so close to the palace but no one could recognize him now with his new appearance. So there should be no danger, right? Joon didn’t object and they packed their few belongings. “What about the house? Is it not yours?” Jimin asked. Jin shook his head. “It is rented.” That was the only thing Jin said. Jimin could hear disapproval in Jin’s voice. He wasn’t stupid. He understood that Jin didn’t want him to join them. But he needed to get away from here and he didn’t know how and where to go to. Therefore this is the best opportunity for him… and he took a liking to Joon… the man was something different.       Before they could leave the city, they went to the marked to get some provisions for their journey. When they arrived at the center, noise was emitting from a big crowd. Jimin, Jin and Joon went over to see what was so interesting for the people of the city – mainly because Joon was interested and Jin couldn’t disobey orders. They pushed their way through, because Jimin was too small to see anything. When they reached the front, they could see many soldiers standing there. Everyone watched with awe. “What are soldiers from the palace doing here?” Someone whispered curious and Jimin’s face darkened. He should leave. Now. But before he could even talk to Joon and Jin, one soldier announced something. “Kneel before the king!” Loud commotion. Jimin froze. This can’t be happening. ‘The king?’ ‘What is he doing here?’ ‘Did something happen?’ But when the soldiers parted to let the king through, everyone fell quiet and kneeled down, lowering their head. Someone suddenly pulled Jimin down to his knees. It was Jin and he put a hand on his head to lower it but instead of lowering his head he looked up with wide eyes. Why was he here? Wasn’t the prince useless? Why come and get him back? Why imprison him again? Why should Jeon even care? Wouldn’t it benefit him when Jimin was gone? As he continued to stare at the path the soldiers made, he could see a figure nearing the center. It was none other than Jeon himself on a black horse. When he stopped in the middle, he looked through the crowd. Jimin lowered his head instantly to hide his face. “My people, do not kneel before me. It is not I, who you should kneel before. I, too, am a mere servant of his highness.” Jeon waited until everyone stood up before he continued talking. Joon and Jin were on their feet swiftly, but Jimin got up slowly, trying not to attract attention. His head was still lowered and he kind of started to hide behind Joon, watching the king talk to the crowed. “You might be asking why I choose to be here in the first place. It is because I am in need of your help.” Whispers everywhere. “There is a certain someone his majesty wants to find.” He started and everyone fell silent to hear their king out. “This person is most likely close by. He is dear to his royal majesty. So do not use any kind of violence if you spot him.” Before he continued talking one of the soldiers walked in front of Jeon and unrolled a scroll. On the piece of paper one could see a face, Jimin’s face. The resemblance was terrifying. They even drew him short hair – well cut short hair. Jimin ducked his head, afraid of someone recognizing him. He moved away from Joon who looked scandalized because he recognized that the person on the paper was Jimin. If he understood right, Jimin was someone close to the prince of this country. He turned around to look at Jimin, but the boy already disappeared. He then turned to Jin but the brown haired male was also out of sight. “Here is a picture of the boy we are searching for.” Jeon said. “If you find him, please-“ Before he could finish his sentence someone interrupted the king. “The boy is here.” The crowed made a path for the man, who spoke up. He held Jimin’s arm in a firm grip, because the boy was struggling to get away. “Let go! I don’t want to! Please, Jin! Let go of me!” Jimin begged, trying to pull his arm out of Jin’s grip. But it was already too late. Jeon dismounted his horse and walked to Jimin. When he stopped in front of them, Jeon raised Jimin’s face to get a better look. Jimin could swear that he saw a glimpse of anger in Jeons face. He gulped. “You are to be rewarded.” Jeon said after a few seconds to Jin, not taking his eyes away from Jimin. “Your presence is reward enough, your highness.” Jin said bowing slightly. Jeon nodded to one of the soldiers who held onto some kind of reward. The solider walked to them and offered it to Jin. Jin took it with another bow, better not anger the king. He let go of Jimin’s arm and stepped back. Jeon took Jimin’s wrist and pulled him to some carriage. “Fuck you, traitor!” Jimin shouted before Jeon forced him into the carriage.

It is still dark when Techno returns back inside, although morning is not far to follow behind. Tommy and Wilbur have left already, declining the offer to stay for the night. It is for the best, but Phil could not help but offer anyways. Techno’s posture is calm, the tension gone from him limbs, but his eyes are still clouded with complicated emotions. They are not red at least, Phil muses, the voices aren’t overwhelming him. Not that his own turmoil is any less severe or important than the ruckus the voices cause. He seems exhausted, undoubtedly having spent the majority of his time outside hacking away at mobs. It has been a long, long while since he felt the need to calm his agitation through violence. Not since the time when they had to leave the server. It had been rough for him back then, rage coursing through him whenever he remembered the home they lost. Since then he had went through quite some changes. Living in peace again for a while had calmed the blood lust of the voices, instead of hungering for more, opposed to how it had been back in the dsmp. He was not just avoiding danger; there simply was none on this server, outside of the mobs. If you could truly count those as danger, even if the smaller zombies being a major threat was an inside joke between him and Phil.   Techno hangs up his cape and heads for the bedrooms, before hesitating. He turns back and heads to the kitchen instead, seemingly deciding against sleep. To be fair, it is almost morning and time to feed their livestock. A moment later, quiet sounds of tea being prepared filter through to where Phil sits. Not long after, Techno comes back with two cups, and joins Phil at the table. Phil accepts the cup with quiet thanks, and watches as Techno sits down. He waits a moment, looking at the downturned face and general misery wafting off him, before he breaks the silence. “You’re alright, mate?”   ***   Warm sunlight filters through the stained glass of church Primes windows, leaving a flurry of colours on every surface it touches. It’s peaceful in here, quiet, and the air fresh after Tommy had opened all doors and windows to air the place out. He’s done quite some work with the place, although the majority had already been done when he had gone back to the server for the first time. All in all the building had only suffered minimal damages, even after almost 15 years of non-use and radioactive poisoning. It only took some light repairs to the facade and a replacement of the wooden pews inside. Some of the floor tiles had been cracked, but that too was an easy fix. Most time consuming had been the thorough spring-cleaning. Sweeping the floors, cleaning the windows, polishing the wood, marble, and stone until it shimmered. Cleaning the holy water fountain and replacing the water had been a little tricky, but he had managed to do it anyways. Fixing up the altar with new candles and offerings was the last thing he had done, and Church Prime had been restored back to its old glory. That had been barely a few months ago, but he still found something to do when he came back to it now. Some dusting, some cleaning, lighting the candles, positioning the offerings just right on the altar- he kept busy. And no- he was not stalling. Taking care of church Prime and making sure it was in perfect condition was an honour, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the frankly overwhelming backlog of messages currently sitting in his communicator. He’d get to them soon enough, first he just had to take care of church Prime. It was much more important than some annoying evil green bastards last messages, even if he had been waiting for answers for years and okay. Maybe he was stalling. But it wasn’t because he was afraid, or anything. He was just…. A little overwhelmed. He knew that Dream died in the prison. Multiple times even. Techno and Phil had talked about that. But hearing about it and seeing the hundreds of messages containing just a single death message fly by was a little different, you know? Maybe he was also still just a little freaked out because of the prison. The building had been every bit as imposing and threatening as it had been back in the SMPs prime. Maybe even more so, now that it had outlasted most of the servers other builds, and survived pretty much unscathed in the radioactive wasteland surrounding it. The inside at least, had been pretty much the same. A little darker than before, as some of the glow stone lamps had worn down or broken over time. Thankfully, or not so thankfully, he knew the way to the high security cell by heart. Not that he had walked it very often, although he was probably one of the only people to have walked it multiple times. It was weird, walking it without having to follow Sam’s extensive security measures. Somehow, despite carrying all his weapons and armour with him, the walk didn’t feel any safer. At the cell, the lava was already down. He didn’t feel like fiddling with the bridge, so he just pearled over. Standing in that little box….. was weird. Somehow, he expected it to look different. He couldn’t quite describe how, just… different. But there it was, the same size, the same cauldron, lectern and chest. The same waterhole. The only notable “change” was the dirt that had accumulated. The water in the cauldron was murky, and the food dispenser was caked in dried up smudges of rotten potatoes. There’s a pile of something below it, and Tommy would bet that it used to be potatoes, but by now it dried and decomposed into some vaguely dirt like substance. It didn’t smell like soil, that’s for sure. Overall, most of the cell was covered in brown stains, some even splattered up the wall. It only took some scratching at it with his shoe for a distinct metallic scent to rise up, and he realized their true nature. It was blood, simple as that. His first thought was that it might have been his own, and his eyes dart to the place where he had…. Died. But there is no discernible blood stain for him to pick out, it’s just a continuous blanket of rusted brown everywhere. He remembers the torture, then. He hadn’t quite thought about what that entailed when Techno and Phil had mentioned it. They hadn’t gone into detail either. Tommy’s first thought had just been of exile, and how Dream had tortured him back then with the hole and the TNT. However, looking at the state of the cell it seems that this torture had been…. A lot more literal than he had expected. He doesn’t quite know what to think about that. It’s not really related to him in any way. He hadn’t ordered it, and Quackity had done it for his own reasons. ‘The book’ he remembers, and his face sours. If Dream hadn’t mentioned the book back in his base, he would have never gone to prison. He could have just died there and he wouldn’t have needed to go through all this bullshit. TOMMY would not have needed to go through all the bullshit. It really was kind of Dreams own fault for mentioning the book. On the  topic of books, though… Tommy stepped over to the lone chest in the corner. It’s old, the wood beginning to rot and the hinges rusty. But inside, it still houses a few belongings. Books, that is. He pulls them out, the leather bound pages still in surprising good shape. He considers to sit down on the chest for a second, as the floor is not a choice at all, but he decides to lean against the lectern instead. He just has to be a little careful in case of splinters. There’s only a few books, and there is truly not much of interest to them. Some hold messy scribbles of the prison layout, probably to plan an escape. Others are just filled with random and nonsensical scribbles that Tommy doesn’t understand, and doodles that he has no interest in. Nothing that helped him in any way. He sighs. On his wrist, his communicator sits undisturbed, screen black and peaceful. He muted Dream before coming here, just in case. He wanted to take a look first, see if he could find any clues. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the supposed messages he left behind. Maybe he was also a little scared of what they would entail, or maybe they would just leave him with more questions then answers. He looks around the cell again. There really isn’t much else to look at in here. It’s dark, humid and unbearably hot. Everything is slowly rotting and there is old blood splattered on every surface. The books have been useless to him as well. All that is left is the messages.  And he is not a coward.   Or maybe he is, because here he is, sitting in church Prime busying himself with anything he can, just to avoid looking at the thousands, ten thousands of messages sitting in his communicator. Okay, maybe he is stalling. *** “Again, mate, Tommy will be alright. He’s grown a lot, and yesterday… yesterday was just a shock. Caught him by surprise. He’ll be alright. I don’t think he is going to stay mad at us.” He reassures. “That includes you as well, you know?” Phil smiles in Techno’s direction, but the other still doesn’t seem reassured. His brows furrow as he grips his cup worryingly tight. “Yeah yeah, he is fine. Sure, for now. But Dream is here and he is staying and I don’t think Tommy will be too happy about that.” Techno says helplessly.  “He won’t be fine when he realizes, Phil. And I refuse to let him drag Dream somewhere else. He can’t survive on his own, Phil.” “I know.” Phil sighs, but he doesn’t lose the reassuring smile. Although it does veer a little more to the helpless side of optimistic. “It’s all gonna work out somehow. Tommy just needs some time to figure this out on his own. He’s smart, Techno, and he is kind as well. It’s all gonna be alright.” Somehow, Techno wonders if Phil just keeps repeating it to make himself believe in it as well.   ***   Tommy felt sick. He hadn’t known what he had expected, but not for them to immediately start with a death message. And certainly not for them to continue for dozens of messages. At first, there is quite some time in-between them, weeks, before it dwindles to days, and then it becomes daily. They always send out at a similar time at first, but then they start to get later and later. Tommy doesn’t know if it just means that Quackity pushed his schedule back and showed up later, or if it means that the… sessions got longer. He doesn’t want to think about that in particular. He doesn’t want to think about the details of the messages either, but he can’t help scrolling the almost…. catalogue of torture with a morbid curiosity. It’s like watching a train wreck. The messages vary, beginning with just weapons, before expanding to tools, potions, and other methods. Stabbed slain pickaxe suffocated drowned sword burned cut down gutted shears choked broken branding iron bled out axe succumbed to infection illness poison rope starved lava killed killed killed killed killed died died died died died died Even just scrolling through the messages, he couldn’t get the rusted brown blood stains out of his head. They had been everywhere, they had splattered up the wall as high as he stood. He hadn’t really thought about how they had been accomplished, but with the messages right in front of him, just continuing further and further and further, his mind begins to fill in the blanks on his own. Dimly, he realizes that what he sees is just what killed Dream in the end. What he sees is only the end of the session, and not, looking at the times of the messages, the hours of torture beforehand. There was so much time, and judging at the variety of death messages, Tommy can only imagine to what lengths Quackity had gone session after session. Sometimes, there are messages from Dream before a death message. Usually, when the death message is way later than the others, and the tone of the messages is mostly the same. Delirious, riddled with typos and barely decipherable, if one didn’t know the people he was calling out for. Technoblade sometimes, probably because of the favour. Punz was a reoccurring one as well, his last ally, who had betrayed him. Puffy, who Tommy knew had some weird parental relationship with Dream going on before all this, although she had denounced him when he had been in the prison. Maybe he had not known. Sometimes Bad. And mostly George and Sapnap. It was interesting to see who the people were Dream called for. It made sense, since they all used to be close to him in one way or another. Before the prison, that is. And yet their names are only called when the soon after appearing death message spells out a slow, painful death of poison, infection, or blood loss. Almost as if, he would never call for them if he was at full awareness. Notably, the days after he sent messages were the ones where the death occurred the quickest. He didn’t like the implications. He didn’t understand what Quackity was thinking. It’s hard to connect these messages with the Quackity he knew. And yet it was quite easy to connect them with the Quackity that razed the entire SMP to the ground in a fit of rage over Dreams supposed escape. And all of that for a book? Granted, it was the revive book, but who would Quackity even revive? Everyone that died had been revived, aside from… Schlatt. There was no way Quackity would revive that bastard, right? Schlatt hadn’t been very nice to him. What was there to gain from it? At one point, the torture related death messages were interrupted by a stream of death messaged related to death through lava. At first Tommy thought it was just another thing Quackity tried, but the messages went on and on and on, far longer than any session ever had, and the times didn’t match up either. He realizes that it was Dreams doing then. He had done it intentionally. Did he try to die? But he respawned, so maybe that wasn’t his goal? “Trapped in an involuntary death loop” he remembers Techno’s words. And he remembers himself, looking longingly at lava long, long years ago. His stomach coils. Yep, he was going to be sick.   ***   When Techno returns to the kitchen still holding the full bowl of soup, Phil already knows that Dream isn’t doing as well as they had hoped. Techno’s face doesn’t do anything to ease that worry. “He isn’t responding again.” He mutters, and Phil can see the restraint in his hands as he sets the bowl down slowly on the kitchen counter, instead of hurtling it into the sink. He stands there, for a moment, hands gripping the wooden counter worryingly tight. “Hey…” Phil calls out, quietly, reassuringly. “This isn’t the end, you know? We were here before, we can do it again.” He laughs, softly. “Hell, this time we even know what we’re doing. It won’t be like last time. He is gonna wake up again, and then we can try and figure out what happened.” Techno turns away. “I shouldn’t have let him stay near Tommy. I should have brought him to his room immediately.” He sounds frustrated, and guilt is laced in his tone again. Phil sighs. “You don’t know if that would have been better though, right? He was already shaken from the encounter; what if isolating him immediately after would have made everything worse? What if it had reminded him of his imprisonment and had triggered an even worse attack?” Phil leans back in his chair, breathing out warily. “Sure. The situation could have gone better, but it also could’ve gone infinitely worse. You did what you thought was best, and that’s what counts.” Techno turns; finally, worry and hesitation clear in his face. “I just don’t know. He was so… panicked. He was scared of something, and I don’t understand what it was. And why did he mention XD? He shouldn’t even be able to remember the god. What if XD was involved in the memory loss?” “Hmm” Phil ponders, but he doesn’t know enough about the patron deity of the old server. They’ve only interacted once, when they had stumbled across an end portal on accident. The deity had been ready to smite them, presuming that they had wanted to access the end. They had convinced XD that it truly hadn’t been their intention, and they were left alone after the deity disabled the portal. It still made for an incredibly badass table though. “You said you summoned them once, with Dream in the prison, right?” He eventually says. Techno nods in confirmation, and Phil can see the realization dawn on his face. “Could you do it again? Obviously you’d have to do it on the old server, but…. You could ask them directly.”   ***   Tommy didn’t make it to a window in time, and this time he isn’t at all ashamed to say he is using the time to clean his puke of the floor to avoid the messages. He is mentally apologizing for defiling the church in this way, and yet he is grateful as well for the involuntary break. He cleans and cleans and cleans and then cleans again, until his hands are wrinkly from the water and red from the pressure of scrubbing. Maybe he should continue outside, for the sake of the church, but being in here is what provided him with the mental strength and inner peace to read the messages at all. So instead, he dries his hands and takes a breather outside, before heading back inside. This time, he settles under a window, his legs stretched out into the warm sunbeams falling through it, while the rest is situated comfortable in the shadows to avoid the glare of the sun on the screen of his communicator. He breathes in deeply. Time to go back. This time, he does not dwell on the death messages during the torture period too much. He skips through them as quickly as he can, although the quick glimpses are enough to make his stomach tighten in protest again. He scrolls, and then, the messages change. Quackity’s name vanishes, and is replaced by messages announcing Dreams death by starvation. It takes a moment to set in, but then he recognizes the date on the messages. It’s been month since the last message containing Quackity’s name, and with a start he realizes the date. It’s well past the second explosion and the ensuing evacuation. At that point, Dream had been alone. Well, aside from Tubbo, Ranboo and Michael in their little bunker. But they didn’t even know he was there. So basically, he had been forgotten and alone. But Quackity had said that Dream had escaped? And Sam had confirmed that. How was Dream still in the prison then… His head hurts. He keeps scrolling, and quickly, the messages change to actual messages from Dream. They’re hesitant at first, calling out for anyone. They quickly grow pleading and desperate. He must have realized that they were gone. Tommy wonders how it could have taken weeks to realize, but then he remembers that no one really had visited him before and that Sam had automated any process he could to avoid having to see the prisoner, so how could he have noticed. He sees his own name in the flurry of messages, and it makes him feel unsettled. How desperate was Dream, to call out for him, specifically? It doesn’t sit well with him, and neither does the growing desperation in the ongoing messages. They end on a lonely please, hours after the last message, before a new death by starvation message interrupts again. Tommy scrolls. And then he abruptly stops.   ***   Punz: I need to talk to you Punz: It’s about Dream Punz: meet me on Hypixel in 3 days, 10 am server time   Techno stares at the message on his communicator in equal parts of confusion and apprehension. It interrupted him in the middle of his research and planning for the trip to the old SMP. He truly hadn’t planned to return again, especially not so soon, but Phil’s idea had been good. Even if he would have to find a different way to summon the god, seeing as he wasn't in possession of the revival book. But still, Summoning the god and finding out what caused Dreams amnesia and if it was reversible was the most coherent and clear plan they’ve had since they had picked Dream up from the prison. But it wasn’t the interruption to his planning that caused the confusion. He knew that Tommy informed the former SMP members of Dreams reappearance, but as far as he knew, Tommy hadn’t told anyone where he had seen Dream, or that Dream was with him and Phil. Well, he wasn’t too surprised about the speed with which Punz had found out that Dream was with them. Although he hadn’t mentioned it in his messages, Techno didn’t doubt that the mercenary was already well aware of it. No, his surprise actually stemmed from the fact that it was Punz. He was one of the last people he had expected to reach out to them about Dream. Barely anyone had even heard from him in those past years, the only mentions of him surfaced through Purpled who apparently was still in contact with him through Hypixel. He didn’t expect Punz to still be interested in Dream at all. Although they had been partners at one point, Punz had betrayed Dream for Tommy and the server. He was part of the reason why Dream was thrown in the prison. What did he want now? What business could he probably still have with Dream? Techno was unsure what to think of it. The offer of information was tempting, but he didn’t know what the information could possibly entail. Would it even be of any use for him? And more importantly, could he even trust Punz? Suddenly, as if Punz heard his doubts, a new message pings.   Punz: I’m on Dreams side. Punz: ask him or check our messages for proof.     ***     Dream: I’m not sorry. Dream: I’m not sorry for what I did.   There it sits. The answer he has been waiting for. Dream wasn’t sorry, even after all the punishment he had endured. But then why? What was the reason? It takes some time for him before he continues scrolling, questions boiling in his mind and unease crawling under his skin. He doesn’t know if he wants to read further, but this is it. This is all the explanation he is ever getting from Dream. The old Dream, the Dream he remembers. He takes a breath. And continues.   Dream: I failed my duty as an admin, and I failed my duty as a friend. Dream: I allowed chaos to take over the server because I didn’t take my duties seriously enough. Dream: Everything I did afterwards was to correct that misstep. Dream: You may believe it was too harsh, but everything only happened because I wasn’t strict enough from the beginning. So I had to correct that. Dream: In the beginning, when I made the server, I wanted it to be a home. I wanted it to be a nice place for the people that were my family. I didn’t want it to be a kingdom, a rulership. Dream: I know now that this thinking was naïve. Dream: I could have spared a lot of tragedy, had I not been so lenient with my duties.   This…. Tommy doesn’t quite know what to make of this. He wishes he could just get clear, straight answers. But this? This is confusing him, why did Dream always have to be so cryptic about everything. What does he mean he wasn’t “strict” enough. He was plenty strict, always a damn party pooper yelling about his rules and shit. So what if Tommy grieved and robbed a little? It was no big deal, all of them had supplies for days. It’s not like Tommy really did any bad damage or anything. He was just a kid playing around, pranking them a little. And still Dream had to be an ass about it. He didn’t really let Tommy get away with stuff, not after the first time he had banned him and then unbanned him again. So what does he mean more strict? Let him stay banned? Bullshit, without Tommy a bunch of people would have never even joined the server. It would have stayed just a measly little troupe of dreams ragtag group of friends. The server would have never become as popular without Tommy. Wilbur literally only joined for Tommy, and- Wilbur. If Tommy had stayed banned, Wilbur would have never joined, and they would have never been able to found L’manburg. Of course Dream would think that that would be the cure to all his problems, getting rid of L’Manburg. Wishing it never existed just so he could stay in his happy little dictator kingdom. Except… Back then, in the very beginning, he hadn’t really been …. A dictator. Not even really strict, aside from his dumb little rules. “no griefing” blablabla “no going to the end” blablabla. As if anyone even knew what the fucking end was back then. And as if it wasn’t hard enough to get there at all. Who would even want to go there? For what, hanging out with a bunch of enderman in the void? Ranboo was more than enough Enderman for a life time, thank you very much. Fight a huge fucking dragon? Not everyone was a fucking idiot. But aside from that he had been quite laid back. Barely anyone had even worn armour back then. There wasn’t really a need, before the wars. That was still his own fault though, if he had just let them make their little country, they would not have needed to fight about it. What was he so pissy about anyways, the server was huge, he could have just let them have their little place. (But was it really about the space? Or was it about the brewing stands and all the ingredients you stole? About your and Wilbur’s drug empire in the little van? About you breaking the rules and then refusing punishment? Come on Tommy, be honest…)   A little voice sounds in the back of his mind, and the way it speaks, so detached and neutral, was unnervingly alike to his therapist. Although, the voice itself was nothing like it. It was hard to say who the voice resembled, it didn’t just sound like his own, like his thoughts usually are. It wasn’t just one person either. It was like flickers of other voices, that meshed and blended into one. He could hear Phil, and Techno and Wilbur, but also Tubbo and Ranboo and Puffy and Sam and Quackity and so many more. It was confusing.   Worst of all, he could hear Dream. It took so long to get rid of the fear of him, to stop seeing the painted smile on every white surface. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like what was happening. Everyone else was already on Dreams side, he didn’t need his own mind to betray him as well.   (That’s not true, though. The others didn’t pick Dream over you, they just don’t care about him anymore. They want to move on from the situation, they’re tired of it. They wish you’d do the same…)   The voice whispers, and Tommy harshly shakes his head to get rid of it. He scrolls down his communicator, and continues reading.   Dream: It’s unfair. Where does my punishment end? Where does it start? Dream: You broke the rules, you stole land that was free for everyone, you divided the server and ripped  my family apart. You painted me a villain when I tried to stop you. Dream: You provoked a fight and then punished me for taking the invitation. Dream: You took everything from me Dream: And then you imprisoned me Dream: why is it that only I am punished? Dream: why is it that I have to bear the weight of everyone’s faults?   …   Dream: In the end, here I am. Left alone in the server. I don’t know if everyone just left, or if something happened. All I know is that I’m imprisoned in this vault forever. Dream: The system doesn’t let me die by my own hands, and an escape is impossible. Dream: I would say this is the end for me Dream: But there is none   Dream died from starvation.   A death message cuts off the stream of messages, and it repeats multiple times, no further messages of Dream visible for now. Tommy sinks back into the stone wall behind him. He is unsure what to think of all of this. He doesn’t like it.   Dreams messages made the situation seem completely different than it had been. They erased everything he had done, and just made it seem like it was “necessary”. Like he hadn’t wanted to do them, like he just had to, as if it was just a chore. They didn’t explain anything, they just made Dream out to be a victim. Like Dream had never meant to start a war, like he never wanted any of it to happen.   But that didn’t make sense. He had opposed L’Manburg, he had proposed the war if they didn’t stop. If he truly didn’t want war and all the bloodshed and conflict, why didn’t he just grant them L’Manburg? He started it, if he just let them do their own thing, none of this would have ever happened.   (Is that really what happened though? Was L’Manburg really the beginning of the conflict? What did truly happen, back then? How was L’Manburg truly founded?)   The voice pipes up again, and this time Tommy doesn’t shake it off. What does it mean? Of course L’Manburg was the beginning of the wars. Dream had refused to allow them their freedom and independence and declared war. Tommy still remembered fondly how they came up with L’Manburg. It had been on a sunny day on the lawn outside the “drug van”, the somewhat shabby old vehicle they had repurposed into a little potion lab. They had just come back from a supply trip, although it mostly consisted of swiping the stuff from other members of the server who were frequent nether travellers and had amassed quite a bunch of resources.   It wasn’t like they needed them when Tommy and Wilbur would be the ones to make the potions. They had successfully grabbed every potion stand they could access, and were already in preparation to start brewing. If someone needed potions, they could just get them from them, maybe they’d even get a discount for their… “collaboration”. They were having a genuinely good time, and Tommy had been so happy to finally spend time with someone he thought of as an older brother.   Of course, Dream had to ruin the mood. He showed up all huffy and annoyed with his stupid green hoodie and his stupid mask. Bitching about his rules and them “stealing” them. It wasn’t even that serious, who got so mad over some stupid spider eyes and melons? Sure, some stuff wasn’t as easy to get, like ghast tears and nether warts and blaze rods, but weren’t all of Dreams little friends sooooo skilled and capable? They could just grind and have them back within a few days. No big deal. Besides, they could just get their potions here, they wouldn’t even have to go through the annoying process of having to brew them. They were doing them a favour, really!   But of course, Dream wouldn’t get it. Blubbering on and on about rules and how they had to return the stuff and how they couldn’t do that and blah blah blah. Fucking annoying. So they just…. told him to get off their property. Called it their little kingdom, named it L’Manburg, and told him to shove it. He couldn’t do shit if they were their own nation. Of course Dream hadn’t liked it, and he had left all puffed up, saying this wasn’t the end of it. It had just been a spur of the moment back then, but in the rush Wilbur had realized that it wasn’t a bad idea. If they were their own nation, they wouldn’t have to give a shit about Dreams stupid rules.   So they made L’Manburg. And people apparently agreed with their vision, because they had a group together just a few days later. They would finally be able to live freely, build their own homes, without the influence of Dream. They would be free.   (You were always free to build a home wherever you wanted. Just like everyone else. However, you were not free to infringe on the others freedom. You stole, you vandalized, and you grieved. It was never about your freedom, but about you breaking the rules and trying to escape the consequences of your own actions. It was about you dividing the people. You knew that Dream was not being unreasonable back then, but you still pulled others to your side just to get out of your punishment. Just to get your own way. Wilbur lied to them, and you knew it. He called Dream a tyrant and you gladly parroted it back. He called Dream a villain and you announced it from the rooftops. It was all fun back then, when he just had the labels attached to him. It was not as fun when he started acting like them, was it?) What? That wasn’t true, not at all! He just wanted to be free! He just wanted to have fun! He was just a kid back then. He was not at fault for Dream going crazy, Dream was the one that was so obsessed with control. Dream manipulated him and caused all the evil. Why was the voice in his head victim blaming him? Dream had been the adult, a grown man, he should have known better. (Why do you insist so much on him being an adult? He was 20 when the conflicts started. He’s not really much older than you, you know? Why do you expect him to be so much more mature and capable, when you as a 16 year old were apparently equal to a toddler?) A toddler? He never said that! But maybe, if Dream wasn’t capable of acting like an adult, maybe he shouldn’t have made a server then! An admin has a responsibility, and if he wasn’t able to act like it, clearly he shouldn’t have become one. (Good Point, Tommy. He was indeed the admin. So why does he have to compromise his rules for an outsider, a “child” as you put it, that he had granted a home in his generosity? His rules were fair and easy to follow. Isn’t it more reasonable to expect the guest to follow them? Instead of causing mischief and unrest simply for their own entertainment?) ‘That’s not fair! You keep twisting the story to make me look bad! I was just a child! It doesn’t matter what I did, he was wrong to treat me like that. He shouldn’t have done it! He just hated me and made my life hell because I wouldn’t let him control me like everyone else!” (You keep coming back to your age. Tommy, do you believe that the title of “minor” is a magic ‘get out of jail free’ card? Sure, the title does indicate that you’re not yet to be put on the same level as an adult, and it does give you leeway in how you act. But rules still apply to you, and being a minor doesn’t make you untouchable, Tommy) “I- I never said that!” he stammers aloud, caught by surprise at the call out.  “I didn’t follow the rules because they were stupid! But he still shouldn’t have done it! I didn’t even do anything bad, I was just having a little fun!” (So you acknowledge that you broke the rules knowingly, just for fun. Then why do you insist on blaming Dream for enforcing them and punishing you? What makes you think you’re above the rules, and unpunishable? Just your age? Then what about the other minors who followed them just fine? What about Tubbo?” “Leave Tubbo out of this!” Tommy replies, louder this time, as the anger in him is rising “Following the rules didn’t help him at all, Dream still went after him!” (But wasn’t that because of you, Tommy? You brought Tubbo into the revolution, you made him part of your plans, you agreed to make him a spy for Pogtopia and you let him get killed for it. You valued the discs over him, you painted a target on his back, you almost let him get killed by Dream. You broke the peace treaty, and gave Tubbo no choice but to exile you-) “WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Tommy screams, and the voice falls blessedly quiet. He pants, his heart racing and his legs shaking under his weight. When did he get up from his spot by the window? He doesn’t remember. ‘Fuck!’ he thinks, and sinks his hands into his hair, gripping the curls tightly as he screams in frustration. He can’t do this. Fuck everything, Fuck Dream, it wasn’t Tommy’s fault, it wasn’t. Dream was the bad guy. Dream was the bad guy. It was all his fault, all his. He hates Dream, he hates him he hates him he HATES HIM HE HATES HIM HE HATES HIM- “What a shame.” The voice says, and suddenly it is not just in Tommy’s head anymore. He freezes, as the voice reverberates through the silent church. A chill rushes through him, and he whips around, to where the voice is coming from behind him. A tall, impossibly tall figure stands, or more likely floats, right behind the altar. The candles he lit have been extinguished, and their wisps of smoke trail upwards, curling around the hem of the figures robes. And even though Tommy has never met the being in person, he immediately understands that who he is facing is a deity. More importantly, the prime god themselves. The god is towering, close to the ceiling even with the tall walls and high rooftops of the church. They are dressed in pristine white and green robes that never seem to stop moving. Tommy is unable to tell where the body begins and where it starts, he is not even sure the deity has one, with the way the robes seem to flow unobstructed. The head of the deity is round, smooth and white, like the marble and stone the church is built of. It floats unattached above the robes, decorated with twin halos crossing in front of it. The figure starts to glow, as impossibly more smoke rises from the candles and spirals around it. The deity leans down, bringing their arms up for the wide sleeves to hide the head. When they come back down, the deity has changed forms into a more human appearance. Limbs are visible, and the light of the stained glass windows catches on gold and emeralds adorning them. The twin halos remain, and the face is hidden by a dark green hood. A glowing green mouth appears in the darkness of the hood, and a voice that sounds like a choir of every voice Tommy has ever heard speaks. “What a shame that my most loyal and devout follower is also the one who hates my creation the most.” The hood falls, and for the second time in as many days, Tommy looks into the face that had haunted him for the past 13 years.   *** “How didn’t we think of this, Phil? It’s so simple.” Techno huffs “His communicator. It’s been almost a full year, and yet we never checked it?” The device is lying on the table between them, restarting after going into standby mode when they had taken it off during that first day where they had patched Dream up. It’s not like they had taken it from him for specific reasons. It was more to be able to clean and dress up all his wounds. And after that he hadn’t needed it for a while, and then they just… forgot. It was just sitting in the nightstand next to Dreams bed. Dream didn’t leave the server, and he was never really alone. They had simply forgot. The communicator came back to live with a little beep, and the screen started to glow again. For a moment, they just let it sit there. Almost hesitant suddenly, Techno reached out for the device. A communicator was something pretty private usually. It wasn’t often that there was a need to share the contents of the device with someone else. What would they find? How many messages had piled up over the years? Who reached out to him? Who didn’t? It felt wrong, somewhat, to be the ones to do this. It was something Dream should be able to do. But Dream was nonresponsive again, and he didn’t remember any of these people anyways. The… old Dream, the “real” Dream should be the one to see the messages. And yet here they were. What they find is… not unexpected. Mostly because they have absolutely no idea what to expect. It’s been 13 years after all, even longer if you calculated in the original prison time. Instead, what they find is disappointing. There should have been some unread messages piled up, surely. But there are… none. Aside from Punz chat that is. There are a few sitting on there, but aside from that, there are no other notifications. If not for those, they would have thought that the device might need to be restarted, or refreshed or something. They are confused. Did truly no one try to reach out to Dream? In almost 15 years? How? No one? Not even his old friends? Or rather, former friends? Techno could have sworn that at least George or Sapnap would have tried to reach out. It’s not what they checked the communicator for, but he can’t help but check the chats between the original Dreamteam. But… they’re not muted either. It had truly been radio silence, even before Dream had gotten imprisoned. A weird feeling rises in Techno at that. He hadn’t been a fan of the prison, for obvious reasons, but he knew that it had been decided as punishment for Dreams transgressions. He thought that it had went too far, and that people had overreacted quite a bit. But he hadn’t thought that people apparently hated Dream so much that they didn’t so much as blink at the notion of him vanishing off the face of the earth. He thought that at the very least his old friends would have still cared about him, even if only for old memories sake. But seeing the quiet, abandoned chats he wonders how Dream had coped with that. It wasn’t a secret that Dream… was a pretty social person, at least before he had went on his little “villain” spree. He had quite a few friends he had been rather close with, and he had enjoyed being with and around people. He shakes his head, trying to push the thought away. He scrolls back up to the top, where Punz’s chat sits, a badge displaying the number of missed messages. It automatically directs him to the begin, and under the last messages that Dream sent, Punz’s messages appear.   Dream: alright, see you on the other side Dream: meetup at the usual spot, usual time … Punz: where are you? Punz: you’re late. Did the plan change? … Punz: I’m going to get you out of there. … Punz: the server is fucked, had to leave Punz: hope you made it out safe … Punz: if you need a place to stay, find me on hypixel Punz: I hope you’re okay … Punz: nobody has seen you in ages Punz: if your communicator wasn’t still active, I’d probably think you’re dead … Punz: I know something is wrong Punz: I’m here if you need me … Punz: the server opened back up Punz: I’ll be at the place … Punz: I went to the prison Punz: snooped around Sams old office Punz: I know what happened Punz: I’ll find you Punz: I’ll make it up to you   Techno sighs when he puts the communicator down. It seems he is going to Hypixel soon.   ***   “So Dream isn’t even a human?” Tommy’s voice is incredulous. “I always knew there was something off with the green bitch.” He scoffs. “Well…”  XD muses “Dream hasn’t always been a human, but in this current form, he is as much human as most of the other people on the server had been. Remember the hybrids and mob related people? Or the ones with special abilities?” The deity questions. “I guess…” Tommy sulks. “That doesn’t mean I forgive him though.” “You don’t have to” XD replies simply, and Tommy stills. “Wait what?” he stutters. “Why did you do the whole… fucking… mind-voice bullshit thing then?” “You sought answers for what troubled your soul. As your god, I simply wished to help you find them within the contents of your mind” The god replies simply, as if Tommy had asked about the weather instead. He feels a bit shocked at the nonchalance, but he refuses to show it. Instead, he sulks a little more. “Yeah, well you were being a real dick about it.” “Apologies, I’m not very familiar with the way the players interact” It’s a little weird to talk so familiar with the God. It’s not like Tommy is usually putting extra effort into his word choice or avoids profanity when he prays. He believed that God deserved to be worshipped with every part of him, not just a clean scrubbed pretend version. But somehow it felt a little weird to not be polite when faced with a god. When the god actually replied to his quips. It was also the calmness with that the god spoke that threw Tommy off. Considering the deities entrance, he had been quite shocked to find the god to be so… mellow and apathetic almost. The prime god was so detached, so blasé in the manners of speech. The god wasn’t at all as imposing and scary as Tommy expected when he turned around and found God staring at him. It mellowed Tommy out as well. Somehow, the anger that had been boiling in him ever since he found Dream again calmed, and left just the insecurity and confusion behind. “I guess. I’m… I still haven’t found my answers though. I’m still so confused. Can’t you just… tell me? Without being so cryptic about it?” he asks, looking up at the god next to him. “You know that I’m not Dream though, although he had been part of me, once.” XD replies, and although the voice is spoken in the same calm, composed cadence, Tommy swears there is a tint of sorrow in the words. “All I can tell you is what I saw. It’s for you to make your own conclusions out of it.” “But… in my head you said all those things, how was that not you giving me answers?” Tommy asks confusedly. “I just took the thoughts that were already there, buried deep down in your mind, and added what I knew. You’re torn and afraid to let go of what you know. I thought that providing a mirror might help you confront that fear.” The deity pauses “clearly that didn’t work the way I intended” “Yeah, you were a proper bitch about it.” Tommy mutters. “and fuckin’ scary as well. But…” he stops, letting his gaze wander the church, before it falls on the communicator on his wrist. “You’re the only one I’ve got to help me figure this out. Dream has apparently lost his memory, and all his old allies and … friends” he stumbles over the word “rather pretend he doesn’t exist than talk about him. Techno does not know shit about what went on, and Phil showed up way too late. Will was… gone for a long time as well.” He sighs. “So you’re my only shot at explaining things, aside from having to figure this out on my own… So… help me?” and after a moment of thinking he adds, “Without the spooky bullshit please?”   ***   “Do you have everything you need?” Techno huffs, pointedly avoiding the other man leaning in the doorway. Of course he has everything he needs, it’s not like a trip to Hypixel calls for extraordinary preparations, especially since he isn’t even planning on staying there for an extended amount of time, or even planning to compete there. He’s just going for a quick chat with an old … acquaintance. It’s not even a full days trip, there is no need to fuss. Although, he realizes, Phil isn’t the one fussing. Techno knows that he has everything he needs, and yet he has been stalling his departure for the past 30 minutes. “Are you sure that you’re gonna be fine?” he retorts instead, finally turning around to face his friend. The relaxed expression on Phil’s face falls and the slightly teasing lilt of his smile curves down, before he smooths his face into carefully crafted expression of optimism. “Of course, mate. It’s just one day-“ “A few hours” Techno interrupts. “-a few hours until you’re back. It’s gonna be fine. Dream will be fine.” The truth is, although he says it, Dream hasn’t exactly been fine. To their pleasant surprise, his complete catatonic state had barely lasted a day, before he had regained awareness. Much less pleasant had been his state since then. Although he was awake and aware, he was withdrawn, completely quiet and apathetic. He didn’t react to any attempt at communication or to leave his room, instead opting to sit quietly in his bed. He barely ate and spend most of his time sleeping, or buried under his blanket in a corner of the room, wedged between the wall and a chest. To be fair, it hadn’t even been three days since he woke back up, so Phil was positive he wouldn’t stay like this forever. Soon enough, he’d brighten back up and things could go back to how they used to be. It was just worrying. Dream hadn’t been like this, ever. They were used to his catatonic state, but when he was aware, he had been curious, open and eager to learn, despite his initial wariness. Now he just seemed tired, exhausted even, and sad. He shied away from them, and withdrew into a shell where they were unable to follow. And they couldn’t even figure out why. Techno didn’t like the idea of leaving while Dream was in a state like this. But he knew that he needed to meet Punz if he wanted more information. He also knew that he would have to go to the old server to find XD soon. It was clear that whatever they had been doing had not been enough. They needed real answers.   ***   “I think the problem lies within the way you perceive things, Tommy, especially in regards to Dream. Your mind is too idealistic and naïve in a way, even now. You see things too black and white, Dream as the villain, and yourself as the hero.” … “You cannot expect to find a satisfying answer to your questions if you truly believe that all the blame lies within Dream. If you perceive all his actions to be either outright malicious or at least motivated by evil intentions, they won’t make sense and they won’t quell your confusion.” … “You’re so focused on the past because it was the time you had been happiest, despite all the bad things that happened as well. You felt loved and appreciated, especially when everyone stood behind you against Dream. You were, and still are scared that if they stop hating Dream, they will stop loving you.” … “You’re desperate to find something that reassures you that you weren’t the reason, the cause for Dream’s actions, that you were just a victim. That he had always been like that, it was just a question of time for it to come out. That if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else.” … “You see him as this overwhelming, unbeatable and evil villain. But that is not who he used to be, and it is not something he was destined to become. It’s what your conflict made him. He used to be just Dream, someone who wanted to build a home and have fun with his friends. Just like you were just Tommy, looking for a home and friends and some fun.”   ***   When Punz shows up, perfectly punctual at 10 am on the roof top they had set as their meet up spot, Techno recognizes him immediately, despite more than a decade passing since their last interaction. It’s less the face, and more the signature white hoodie that he still wears, especially in bold combination with the familiar golden necklace. Techno had always regarded the pure white outfit as a somewhat odd clothing choice in his field of work. Mercenaries are usually hired to do the dirty and often bloody work for people who didn’t want to tarnish their own hands. Or maybe just didn’t have the time for it. In any case, something flashy and easily dirtied was probably not the best uniform for someone meant to stay in the shadows. However, Punz had kept his signature style over years, and he was wildly successful at his profession. Maybe it was the bold declaration of wearing pure white, almost a dare to try and get him to mess it up, that had helped build up his reputation, or maybe the white was just an attest to his proficiency and skill. Although, Techno mused, it might also just be a fashion choice. If anyone would understand a somewhat ironic or odd choice of fashion it was probably the anarchist in a monarchists outfit. “Technoblade” he greets simply with a nod, his face calm and serious. Techno returns the greeting in kind, but doesn’t get to say much else before Punz continues. “Is he okay?” he blurts out, and now that the other is close, Techno can see the worry lines that crease his face and the dark rings under determined eyes. “He?” Techno replies, although he knows who Punz means, and yet he can’t help but tread carefully. Punz scoffs. “Cut the bullshit, Technoblade. You know who I’m here for.” “Well…” Techno hesitates. Was Dream okay? He was alive, at least. And he had been somewhat okay before Tommy had shown up. “as Tommy informed the server, Dream is still alive.” Punz rolls his eyes at the mention of Tommy, visibly annoyed. “Frankly, I couldn’t give less of a shit about Tommy. I know that Dream is alive. Is he okay? You were rivals, but not enemies, so I’m taking it that you didn’t spend the past year holding him captive or hurting him?” He spits, trying for a calm demeanour, but the agitation in his stance is still very clear to Techno. Or maybe it is just the furrow to his brows that he can’t seem to smooth out, or the way his fingers twitch for a weapon. Nevertheless, disgust fills Techno at the implications. “Torture is spineless.” He sneers. “Repeatedly and violently harming someone defenceless and incapable of fighting back is honourless.” He breathes, calming the anger that rises with the memories of Quackity’s actions. “No intentional harm has come to Dream. He has been treated with care and healed to the best of our abilities. Although-“ he swallows, before continuing. “Although he currently isn’t quite in a state that I would call ‘okay’, he has been doing as well as is reasonable for someone in his situation.” “His situation” Punz says bitterly “that is one way to describe it.” “I take it you’re familiar with the details?” Techno asks, remembering the last messages Punz had sent to Dreams communicator. “I don’t know the details” Punz replies, face drawn tight in a complicated expression. “But that wasn’t really necessary to understand what happened after going through Sam’s office in the prison.” He spits the name in disgust. “Fuck. I should have never agreed to the prison plan.” Wait. “Hold on. What plan? Are you telling me that Dreams imprisonment was planned? Why? He never mentioned it during the 3 months we spent there together” Techno asks, confused and suspicious of this newfound information, but Punz replies without missing a beat. “Nobody knew of the prison plan aside from me. I had asked Dream to at least tell Sam beforehand, as a failsafe, but Dream had insisted that it had to be real for the plan to succeed. Besides…” he trails off for a moment, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the server hub below them. “Dream had trusted him to be fair and just. He always spoke highly of Sam, convinced of his righteousness.” Punz voice is bitter as he thinks of all the times that Dream had reassured him that Sam had been the perfect choice. The only choice, really. How wrong they had been. “I always thought that it had been fishy that he got caught and imprisoned so easily, but why would he plan to be put in an inescapable prison at the mercy of someone else? Even restricted of his admin abilities? The prison was horrendous, what possible goal would that even fulfil?” Techno asks incredulous. All of this didn’t make sense, Dream had hated the prison, had desperately wanted out. There was no way he had planned all that. “Well, the conditions had certainly been worsened from the original plan, but the worst of it should have never happened. Sam took some liberties that he had no right to take.” Punz says. “But the prison had been necessary. The server was splitting apart and nothing that Dream did had been working. Everyone was intent on him being the villain, and anything he did just seemed to underline that belief. He was tired of it.” Literally. At one point, Dream hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour without being shaken awake by nightmares. The servers tensions pulled at the very seams of his beings. He had been a walking wreck, kept alive by potions and golden apples only. “Dream realized that he would never be able to shed the role that Wilbur had assigned him. Everything he had tried had eventually backfired. So he needed to absolve it in a different way.” He explains further, while Techno quietly takes it in. “He thought that if he leaned into the accusations, if he became an actual villain, he could achieve what he so desperately wanted. The server finally stops with all the conflicts and reunites against the ‘big bad evil guy’.” Techno wanted to call that plan foolish, shortsighted, wanted to point out how peace like that never lasts. He is reminded of the myths and legends that he is so fond of, and he remembers how Dream had been, just as his name suggested, well… a dreamer. Someone idealistic and surprisingly naïve in some ways, despite his maturity in others. “Of course he wanted to be part of the ‘big happy family’.” Punz notes, smiling bittersweet. “He wasn’t that selfless to just die for the others to be happy. He knew that it wouldn’t be enough to be defeated in battle. Not for Tommy. Never for Tommy, he was never satisfied, always pushing for more.” Punz face twists, an angry grimace before he smooths it back forcefully. “Dream knew that punishment wouldn’t be pretty, but he could do his best to at least steer it in a way that ensured his survival. And after that, he thought he would finally free. He could start “new”, as this reformed person. Sure, he knew there would be some people still hating him, but at least they wouldn’t be able to just cause havoc on the premise of “retribution of Dreams wrongs” anymore, since he would have been punished and his “crimes” thus paid off. He wouldn’t be an excuse to fight anymore. He really believed there was a home to come back to.” He pauses. When he continues, it is in a quiet, almost wistful tone. “He thought that even being killed a few times and then being stuck in that hellhole for an indefinite time would be better than the server continuing as it was.”     ***   “…I don’t know the day or event that set your course, but for Dream it was the day that Wilbur and you unrightfully declared him a tyrant and a villain and people believed you. No matter what he did after that, he was unable to shake that title. All his actions were seen as proof of his maliciousness, even if they were just clumsy attempts at fixing the mess the server had become. Nothing he did seemed to be working the way he wanted it to. He was too prideful, thinking the issue could be resolved easily since he had the authority, and his rules had been just. The idea of L’Manburg was tempting and desirable to the people, and Dream was seen as the envious, control hungry tyrant. People began to divide, and more and more conflicts arose. He felt justified in escalating his attempts, he felt righteous in his fight, but so did the other side. But soon, there were too many players on the board, too many conflicts and too little trust. He started losing, first his sleep, then his temper, followed by his friends, and eventually himself. Dream was hurting, he felt helpless and angry, so he lashed out. He had been too scared, too prideful and ashamed of opening up about his worries to his friends, and now they had already left him. He felt as if there was not a single friendship left that he could trust wholeheartedly. In the midst of all the conflict and chaos, he saw you as the root of all that had occurred. It wasn’t as if you had been personally responsible for every single conflict or as if you were the sole contributor for the war. But you were the embodiment of all his mistakes, fears, and regrets. He blamed you for losing everything he worked and cared for. He felt like everyone had left him for your sake, and he wanted you to feel just as alone as he did, especially after the falling out with his closest friends.…”   ***   “So you have been looking for him all this time?” Techno asks into the silence that had fallen around them after Punz had finished his explanation. His words sit heavy in Techno’s gut, and he can’t help but feel the guilt he had become so familiar with rise in his throat. “I knew something was wrong. Why did you think I kept working as a mercenary? For money? I could’ve retired years ago with the amount that Dream paid me, but even then I’ve had some backups stashed away long before I ever joined the server.” Punz laughs, but it’s not a joyful sound. “No, I was looking for him. Any job that granted me access to a server I couldn’t enter otherwise, I took. I’ve been hunting for years to find any kind of trace.” He scoffs bitterly. “To think that all this time he had been right there, ready for me to pick up at any moment’s notice.” “To be fair” Techno muses “The server had been pretty much uninhabitable for years. You wouldn’t really have been able to visit it anyways.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to reassure Punz, but he has a feeling it’s connected to the guilt he feels. He doesn’t want to imagine how Punz feels right now. “And it seems that you followed his directions as closely as you could.” “I still should have noticed. I should have known that he wouldn’t just go radio silent. He would have never just abandoned the plan without any notice. It wasn’t just you that failed in a promise, Technoblade.” Punz bites harshly, before sighing. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.” “No worries” Technoblade replies, and it really isn’t, surprisingly. Even if the reminder at his broken promise stung, it wasn’t as if Punz had said something that Techno hadn’t been already saying to himself. If at all, he was probably the one person who would understand exactly how he felt. Which also meant that Techno had a pretty good guess on how to proceed. “Well!” he says, and gets up from his spot. “Time to go.” He relishes in Punz’s confused expression and sputtered questions, but only for a moment. He fixes his cape, and moves to the staircase that had led them to the rooftop. “What are you waiting for?” he calls back over his shoulder. “Isn’t there someone you want to visit?” immediately, he can hear Punz scrambling to get up, and he knows he doesn’t have to explain any further. He smiles and begins to walk down the stairs, Punz falling into step right behind him. It seems it is time for a reunion.   ***   “…It might ease your mind that Tubbo had never been at risk of dying at the final Disk confrontation, as much as it looked like it. The Dream that you saw there was entirely an act, derived to play as the villain everyone thought him to be. The villain he had been dangerously close to actually become. The hide out filled with attachments was nothing but a show either. Dream had expected to be killed at least once, willing to lose canon lives for his punishment to be just in the eyes of the server. But he had planned to be thrown into the prison, had the high security cell built and designed specifically for this. He made it crueller than the Warden had thought necessary, adding restrictions and difficulties against his recommendation. It hadn’t been for you, Tommy, even if many people thought that. It had been for him. “   ***   Everything feels wrong. It’s like his skin doesn’t fit him, like it’s a size too big, like he can’t fill it. Like he isn’t enough. Ever since Tommy had showed up and had brought Wilbur in tow, he feels strange. He hadn’t understood much of what they had said, too overwhelmed with the situation. His inner guide had been going crazy but it hadn’t protected him this time. He had to sit in the corner of the room and feel their voices wash over him, incomprehensible to him and yet so frightening. He felt their words scratch at him, felt them catch on his skin and pull. Pull, pull and pull until he was all wrong. He was the wrong shape, he didn’t fit here. This wasn’t where he was supposed to be. It was so different with the cell. Not a single time had he doubted his place there, the opposite even, he had always known that it had been made for him. But this place wasn’t, and he wonders how it had taken him so long to understand. At least, now that he has learned, he wont ever forget. Forget. Forget? He forgot a lot. He didn’t remember, but that was good. Was it? It was. Mercy. Yes, it was mercy. Kindness, for him. He didn’t want to remember, it hurt, it would hurt, he knew. He would rather be empty, rather be less and not enough for his skin than to be filled with pain. But they wanted him to. They wanted him to remember, he knew. He could see it in Techno’s eyes. They got so hopeful and so sad. But he didn’t want to. He had tried to tell him, he had tried so hard, had even spoken, had written in the book, just for him to understand. But of course, that had been when the darkness had come to step in. He doesn’t know if Techno had understood, but he hasn’t talked about remembering since, and he really didn’t want to bring it up. He didn’t want to speak at all, actually he didn’t want anything. He didn’t want to have soup and he didn’t want bread either. He didn’t want to sit in the chairs that belonged to someone else, and he didn’t want to be where he didn’t fit. He just wanted to forget, forget everything and float again. Just darkness, no more memories. No thinking, no feeling afraid and wrong. He has no energy. His limbs feel as heavy as they had when he had been in the cell still. Moving feels like an impossible task, and his head is so loud when it isn’t silent. It’s all wrong, and his hand is bandaged where it lies in his lap. It hurts when he balls it up and the white bandages get all red. He doesn’t like the hurt, it keeps him here when he wants nothing more than to float away. But every time he concentrates on the cell with all his might until he reaches that floaty darkness again, he can’t help it. It’s like something is wrong, and so much is wrong but this is different. The cell is all wrong, something is missing. It’s not right and he needs to… he needs to…. And then the pain slams him back into the room and the bandages are red, red, red and he is still here and everything is still wrong.   *** “…That’s it. What this means for you is entirely in your hand. I cannot tell you what to do with this knowledge, but I hope it will help you to finally find the answers that you seek. There is just one thing that I ask of you.” ***   They’re on the doorstep of Techno’s and Phil’s home, when it occurs Techno that he should probably warn him about Dreams state. Maybe explain a little further. He hasn’t really gone into any detail aside from the fact that Dream isn’t in top condition right now. With the hand on the doorknob, he turns around to Punz. “Uh…” he says, eloquently. “You should probably know that Dream might not remember you. He’s kind of… amnesiac.” And then he opens the door and steps in before Punz even gets the chance to react. He prepares to call out for Phil, but in a lucky accident, the other one is just passing the entryway with a little tray of mugs. “Techno!” Phil calls surprised, clearly not expecting the other back so early. “I see you brought a guest?” He asks when his eyes fall on Punz once Techno passed the entrance. “Yeah” Techno replies shortly before stepping aside to put away his coat, leaving Phil to greet Punz. “I take it things went well and you’re here to see Dream?” he asks with a friendly smile, and Punz relaxes slightly. “Yeah, I think so? How is he? Where is he?” he asks in reply, not really having a coat or something similar to take off and put away. “He’s in his room. I was just going to bring him some Soup” Phil answers easily, and gestures to the tray with his chin. “Why don’t you come with me?” he offers and turns to lead the way when Punz agrees. Techno hadn’t given him any indication that Punz was a threat, so he didn’t worry about taking him to meet Dream. It’s not far to Dreams room, but before he gets to leave the entryway, Punz speaks up. “Techno said that Dream…. Is amnesiac?” his voice is a little hesitant, worry laced through every word. Phil sighs slightly, but his eyes are as reassuring and kind as his smile. “Yes, that is what we think. He doesn’t seem to remember anything, aside from a somewhat…. Instinctual response? We’re not exactly sure about the state of his memory loss, if it’s permanent or not. But we’re working on it.” “I see” Punz replies, thoughtfully. “Anything else that I should be aware of?” “He doesn’t really speak.” Phil explains. “Sometimes he uses sign language to communicate, and he says words sometimes, but not quite in conversations. He doesn’t write in books either.” “Have you tried his communicator?” Punz asks, and Phil declines. “We had honestly forgotten about it, only remembered when your message came through.” He confesses. “We would have tried it out by now, but he hasn’t been doing too well since Tommy’s surprise visit.” “How so?” “He is… distressed, obviously. Although he didn’t really recognize Tommy, it was clear that he was uncomfortable and he had somewhat of a panic attack. He’s been pretty withdrawn and skittish since then, so try not to push him if he doesn’t react to you the way you expected it.” Phil explains further. “Oh, and try to avoid speaking in imperative form. He doesn’t react well to orders and such.” He adds on after a little pause. “That should be it, for now. Ready?” he asks, and motions to the hallway, just as Techno joins them again. Punz nods, and together, they make their way to Dreams room.   ***   “Leave Dream be. Unless he intentionally seeks you out to harm you, do not go out of your way to find him. Do not search for him, do not hunt him down. You have many more lives to enjoy as a player. Allow him to live his last one.”

(Toothless)  Such a lively little creature; little eyes, little feet… little wings; so tiny and fragile, and yet, that little feathered creature, curiously pecking his snout, was still able to fly by itself, just as he once could, before his tail had been maimed. And fly the little bird did, when Toothless huffed with an annoyed pout. His eyes had begun to hurt from keeping them crossed too long in the attempt to watch the small animal nervously explore the spaces between his muzzle-scales for food. He could not help feeling a faint, perhaps unfair touch of spite towards the innocent bird, as it fluttered hastily into the thick foliage of the forest. But what did it matter? Life had not been fair with him either. He had been too young when he had gotten himself captured by the queen’s spell, just on the verge of his sixth mating season. Even the mind of a mighty Night Fury was not able to fight against her vile will at that age, and perhaps at any age; Toothless was not planning to have that assumption ever tested. He still felt just as young, though his body had grown since the day of his enslavement. Years had probably gone by, while his mind was being kept captive in that horrible semi-conscious state, to obey the queen’s bidding, to satisfy her insatiable hunger, to damage, degrade, and ultimately corrupt his own pride. How many years? He’d rather never find out. So, Toothless had stoically accepted his physical growth, relegating the unclear memory of his lost time to the depths of his consciousness, determined not to think about it. Accepting the loss of his flight had been a much harder struggle, and, in a sense, it still was. He did not hate Hiccup for it. He could not hate Hiccup for it. Although the boy had never openly apologized for being the one who had shot him down that night, Toothless was already aware of his rider’s feelings on the matter. The little human had eventually spared his life the next morning, when Toothless had woken up, free from one type of bondage, immediately into another, and a tailfin poorer. So, no, he could not hate Hiccup, even though he had truly wanted to at first. After everything the boy had done to help him fly again, hatred was unattainable. That little boy with curious lonely eyes, that gangly biped who had shown him how humans smiled, was likely the last creature in the world he could have hated. There were some moments, though, such as this day, when Toothless felt rather… irked. Whenever Hiccup was not around, or at least within the reach of his sense of smell, Toothless would lose the only means he had to fend off that suffocating feeling of having fallen back into bondage, hideously tied to the earth like any other inferior rat, or squirrel, or boar, or… even as any human. He sometimes wondered how creatures as intelligent as humans could manage to stay sane without flying. How could their minds accept such a hideous fate so easily? It was not important, as long as Hiccup stayed with him. When Hiccup was by his side, even when they were not up in the air, Toothless felt whole again, as if his tailfin had never been lost. Hiccup, however, had recently decided to work in a foreign village, hoping to obtain some hunting weapon. A pointless waste of time. Now that they had fled from Berk, Toothless would always be there for Hiccup, so why did the boy keep trying so hard? He had nothing to prove to anyone any longer. Regardless, try as he might not to resent waiting for his rider, Toothless could not bear to be parted from him for even a single wingbeat, and the fact that Hiccup was his only means of flight was not the only motive, though it was surely a more-than-reasonable source of anxiety. The soft sounds of the forest, and even the stray rays of sunlight, breaking through the leaves and warming his scales, did little to soothe his nerves. It was still rather early, a short while before midday, when strange noises began disturbing his uneasy slumber. Distant human voices among the trees, cries and yells of running people getting closer. Toothless rose worriedly. Had he been spotted? Should he need to hide? Before he could make a decision, the breeze carried a mixture of scents to his nostrils. In that mixture, there were some familiar smells, one of which belonged to his own rider. The situation became immediately clear. Hiccup was being chased by a group of undoubtedly ill-intentioned humans, and some of their scents Toothless could remember from Berk itself. Toothless required no further thought. His only means of flight was in peril. His little human friend needed help. Again. Toothless tracked the source of the sounds in the forest. It was not long before he could see the running boy, and, just a few wingspans further, a group of Vikings, hard on Hiccup’s heels, some of their weapons dangerously unsheathed. Even Hiccup was carrying something, though it looked much less menacing. Was that the new weapon for which he had been working? It did not look particularly powerful. It was just a thin stick, with a rope coiled to one end. Toothless half-roared to help his rider spot him, then prepared for Hiccup to climb on his back. “Toothless! We’re leaving!” The panting boy cried, sweat dripping from his forehead. “There’s the Night Fury!” A strong woman bellowed. “Don’t let them fly!” Shouted another man, whose voice Toothless had heard before. It was Hiccup’s uncle, the one who was in the arena when they had escaped from Berk. His name, Toothless recalled, was Spitelout. When Hiccup reached him, he hastily mounted on his back, and, as soon as the breathless boy sat upon him, Toothless bolted in the opposite direction. In the meantime, the Vikings chasing them got much closer, but Toothless could not fly yet. The forest was so thick with trees that no average dragon could extend their wings. So, Toothless hurried towards the clearing where they used to land in the mornings, each time they got on Balheim. It was very close, but so were their pursuers. Toothless was faster, of course, but before he could gain some distance, another man roared: “I’ve got this!” “Toothless! Watch out!” Hiccup yelled, looking back. Without slowing down, Toothless turned his head to see an axe flying straight in their direction. In that breakneck situation, he could not run the risk of throwing his rider off his back, as the boy was not yet fully settled into the stirrups, so Toothless decided not to dodge. Instead, he hastily sucked in some air, mixed it with gas inside his throat, and shot a small blue fireball at the twirling weapon. His aim was as good as ever, and the shot stopped the axe, but part of the blue ball of flames continued towards their attacker, and exploded onto his shield, making the man stumble and fall in a cloud of splinters and smoke. Unfortunately, the man looked relatively unhurt, but there had been no time to charge a more powerful shot. It was the brawny woman’s turn to shout: “Allow me!” Toothless did not wait for Hiccup to warn him this time, and as soon as he heard her voice, he sidestepped beside a tree, keeping his pace. He nonetheless looked back to see the result of his evasion. “Shit!” The woman exclaimed at her failure, still running after them. Something was off, however. Toothless did manage to dodge the flying weapon, but the axe had not seemed aimed at Hiccup. It appeared to be aimed at his own back instead, perhaps only at his tail. This was rather odd. In fact, the previous man had also seemed to aim at the tip of Toothless’ tail, perhaps where the prosthetic fin was fastened. Could that have been a coincidence? Were they not trying to kill them? They could have aimed at Hiccup, or at some of Toothless’ more vital parts. Sure, they could have killed them after managing to keep them on the ground, but, given the situation, Hiccup’s back or even a wing were much easier targets.  Are they only trying to stop him from flying away? Toothless wondered as he ran. Maybe they were not actually trying to kill his rider, but why only aim towards the tail? Were they trying to keep him alive too? Perhaps he was just overthinking this, but he still found it curious. So, though he did gain some distance, Toothless did not increase his speed, hoping for further clues. Promptly, Hiccup began shouting from his back: “Toothless, faster! They’ll gain on us again! Why aren’t you-” Before the boy could finish his sentence, they had reached the wide grassy clearing. Toothless kept running forward, until he made sure that all their pursuers had emerged from the treeline. Then, he took to the sky with a powerful jump, much to Hiccup’s relief. Spitelout bellowed a loud “Fuck!”, tossing his horned helmet on the ground, panting. Toothless flapped his wings to rise higher, but he didn’t leave the area. They had reached a safe distance now, yet his acute ears could still pick up on the voices of the Vikings below. He wanted to hear what they were saying, ignoring Hiccup’s tired tugs at the saddle. “Toothless! Let’s leave!” His rider squealed breathlessly from his back, but Toothless yowled for the human to wait. He kept circling the clearing from up high, with his ear-plates trained towards the earth, listening at the crew of bickering humans. “Damn Night Fury broke my shield!” Said the first man who had attacked them. “When did Stoick's runt become so fast?!" A second man exclaimed, gasping for air. He had been slower than the others. “Maybe we should’ve told 'im about yer little deal before he started runnin'. Eh, Spitelout?” "You idiot!” Spitelout spat back. “We need to hold the Night Fury first! Otherwise what makes ya think he'll cooperate?!” The first man, who was removing wood splinters from his forearm, decided to intervene: “At least we should have told ‘im his exile is for just two years. He might have gotten distracted if we did, then we could have caught 'im better, and lured the Night Fury later." “Are you soft in the head too?!” Spitelout shouted again. “What makes ya think he'd have stopped to listen when ya were chasing him with yer axe in hand?! Who told ya to take out yer axe?! And what if ya had hit him?” “I was aiming for the tail-thing!” The first man replied defensively. “And we’re up against the Night Fury. We didn’t know when it was goin’ to turn up! I had to be ready. And who would’ve thought the little shit could run like that anyway?!” “Jorunn's right,” the second man added. “We all thought we’d have him by one stretch of the hand. Wasn’t he born a cripple or something? This kid could almost win the Thawfest games.” Spitelout looked exasperated. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, when the burly woman finally decided to speak: "Well, now he knows we're after him,” she began, both hands clasping her broad hips, “what do we do, Spitelout? He probably thinks we're trying to kill him. He won't stay still for us to catch the Night Fury. How will ya blackmail him without a hostage?” The woman asked, but then continued. “Next time we find him I say you just kill the boy and be done with it. Don’t worry ‘bout me telling Stoick… never really liked the man anyway.” Jorunn, the man with splinters of broken shield in his forearm, snorted cheekily. “Ya’re just sayin’ that ‘cause he only had eyes for Valk-” “I won’t soil my hands with blood of my blood, Brunhilda!” Spitelout spat angrily again, interrupting Jorunn’s teasing remark. “Tch!” The woman named Brunhilda scoffed, twisting her lips with disdain. “Why aren’t they leaving?” Asked another man, looking up towards them. “Toothless!” Hiccup hissed in his ear, as if on cue. “Come on! Let’s go!” The young human’s ears were clearly unable reach the voices below, and he had grown restless, so Toothless decided to finally glide out of his circular trajectory. He flew west, towards their island. As he did so, he heard one last remark from his rider’s uncle. “I don’t know… keep yer eyes up,” Spitelout said. “But, if what Brunhilda says is true, if he thinks we’re tryin’ to kill ‘im, maybe he'll just fly far away, and stay away for good. But I can’t afford to hope for that yet. We’ll find them apart again. Next time bring the bolas, even for the boy. A bruise or two won’t matter if we have...” Toothless failed to hear the rest of the conversation. He had flown too far, and not even his Night Fury ears could pick up such distant sounds. He could now mull over on what he had heard, and so he did, frenziedly. A deal with Hiccup? Two years of exile? Keep me hostage? What does Spitelout want? Blackmail? What is ‘blackmail’? It does not sound good. If what he understood was correct, it was a good thing that they had managed to escape, but for very different reasons than those Toothless had formerly expected. In fact, even Hiccup did not seem to know what the other Vikings wanted from him. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it was a good thing that Hiccup had not heard about his banishment being for only two years. Perhaps it was a good thing if Hiccup thought they wanted to kill him. And, apparently, that was exactly what he had inferred from the situation: “I can’t believe they were looking for me all this time!” the boy complained once they were halfway back to Old Balheim. “Why won’t they just let me rot in exile?! If they just came to kill you by finding me first, then I’d quickly end up dead too! I mean, they must know I can’t make it out here by myself! Unless... Unless, they meant to take me back. But I’m an outcast, and outcasts are executed. And I’ve likely been disowned too, so... Either way I end up dead! Does my father want me d-... no, I…” Hiccup exhaled wearily, lying with his back along Toothless’ spine, but keeping his feet in the stirrups. “I can’t believe he wants me dead,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat, though Toothless heard him anyway. “I just... can’t. I’m not his son anymore, but still, even he wouldn’t go that far. Right?” He paused to calm his breathing. As they flew, Toothless tried cooing softly at him, but there was nothing he could say, not in a way that his rider could hear at least, though even if there had been a way, Toothless still did not know what he could have said. Night Furies were capable of many things, but giving consolation to other creatures was not one of them. Once his voice was back to normal, Hiccup sat up again. “What if it’s just Spitelout who wants to kill me,” he said. “Still… no, this makes no sense. If Spitelout is out here, it’s because my father sent him. Maybe I should have heard if they had something to say-” Toothless barked his disapproval immediately. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They were throwing axes at us, weren’t they?” Toothless crooned agreement. He was thankful for Hiccup's human hearing, and, although it made him feel slightly ashamed to admit it, he hoped his rider would never come across the information he had just gathered, for he could still see the boy’s uneasy attachment to his birthplace. Toothless felt a very conscious fear of that attachment. He feared that, if Hiccup ever found out that those men had not meant to harm him, even if their intentions were not entirely good, he would, at some point, demand to go back. Toothless could not run that risk. He was going to do everything in his power to keep Hiccup as far away from Berk as possible, which meant they couldn’t stay on Old Balheim anymore, they had to move even further. Fortunately, this time Hiccup's thoughts were aligned with his. “Ugh! To Helheim with them!” He said. “I guess we’ll have to leave these islands too, and find another place even more south.” Toothless crooned again for agreement. “Summer ends in a few months,” Hiccup continued. “Spitelout won't be sailing when the sea starts to freeze. Who would have thought we'd be safest during winter, eh bud?" He scratched his side affectionately. Toothless replied with a particularly strong purr, fueled by both the scratches and the relief that came from seeing Hiccup dismiss his renewed thoughts of home so quickly. Perhaps he needn’t have worried so much. “At least I got the bow. Look!” Hiccup extended his new weapon above Toothless’ head, so he could observe it while flying. “I kind of had to steal it though. But I wouldn’t have, if Spitelout hadn’t found me,” Hiccup confessed. “I never stole anything before. At least I almost finished a very good axe to pay for it. Still… I did steal more arrows than I was promised as I left. I didn’t have time to count them. Let’s just hope Balheim’s weaponsmith doesn’t start chasing me as well, right?” He said the last part almost seriously, though there was finally mirth too in his words. “So, what do you think? Do you like it?” He asked, shaking the weapon above Toothless’ head. Toothless let out a generic warble. He did not know how the weapon worked. It looked rather harmless to him. Hiccup seemed to understand the meaning behind that sound. “I’ll show you how it works another time. First we have to get our stuff from our camp.” Not long afterwards, Toothless landed in their camp on Old Balheim. He waited for Hiccup to prepare for leaving. The boy gathered his pelts, clothes, pots, pans, and all the other tools that humans appeared to require in order to survive. Once Hiccup was done cramming everything in his usual basket, he tied it to the saddle. “Alright,” he said, before checking his surroundings one last time. “I’m glad I didn’t build a house on this island; it would have been a completely wasted effort. Right, bud?” Toothless huffed dubiously. He could still not see the point of Hiccup building a shelter, when his own wings could provide his rider with all the shelter that he was ever going to need. “Trust me, when winter comes, even your wings can’t protect me from the cold all the time,” Hiccup explained, responding to Toothless’ thoughts. Toothless cocked his head. He was regularly surprised by the boy’s ever-improving ability to understand him. It was uncanny. Without even trying to communicate words with his rider’s mind, Hiccup would occasionally understand him regardless. Perhaps Toothless was never going to need to actually use words with his rider, though it would have still been a useful thing to be able to do. “Off we go, bud,” Hiccup said, jumping on the loaded saddle. “Let’s just hope we find land before nightfall.” They were quickly among the clouds once again. “Wait!” The boy yelled against the wind. “Let’s go south and east! Spitelout saw us fly west from Balheim, so we should be harder to find if we go east instead. Don’t you think?” Toothless welcomed the clever suggestion by veering his one tailfin and twitching his wings accordingly, which was all the signal Hiccup needed to adjust the prosthetic fin with his foot-pedal. Noon was replaced by late afternoon, when Toothless spotted the first large island on their path. It was very big, about the size of Berk, but, unfortunately, it appeared to be already densely populated. Two mountain peaks, one of which an apparently spent volcano, emerged from the sea, and old forests coated their steep sides. A sizeable village extended from one shore, deep into the island. It was likely that the humans were even more numerous here than on Berk. “This must be Thargran. Home to the… what was it? I’m sure I heard the tribe’s name before. Their crests were all over the ships in Balheim’s docks,” Hiccup explained. “Let’s just keep this island as reference, and find some place nearby.” So, they flew past Thargran, until Toothless spotted a few dragons on the horizon, flying towards the distant skies to the east; they were probably too far for Hiccup’s human eyes to identify them. It was a small flock of the kind that Vikings called Gronckles, and they were travelling freely, clearly unbound from the queen’s control. Perhaps they were close to some nesting grounds, Toothless thought, and gradually steered towards them, thinking there were higher chances of finding land in that direction. He was soon proven right. When his rider noticed the second island on their path, he prompted Toothless to land. He needed to rest and eat, but very soon they were flying once more, as that island was, according to Hiccup, both too close to Thargran, and too small to have an adequate amount of wildlife. They needed to look further. The setting sun began to warm their backs, tinting clouds and waves in all shades of orange and yellow. Hiccup had always seemed to regard this time of day as his favourite for being in the sky. The boy had never said so, but Toothless could tell by observing how his rider behaved during these flights. Promptly, Hiccup sat up straight, spreading his arms like a second pair of imaginary wings. He then wiggled his fingers against the air, and, whenever Toothless glanced behind, he would see the sincerest fraction of a smile upon the boy’s face, mixed with the smallest hint of excitement or fear; likely a fear of falling, or being blown away by the wind. It was the same expression Hiccup had worn when flying for the first time. Although it was slightly harder to keep his speed when Hiccup sat up like that, Toothless never complained. He just flapped his wings a bit faster to maintain his altitude. For some reason, he reveled in the notion that his rider could actually feel what it was like to have wings. To any dragon, and even more so to a Night Fury, flying was the very thing that made life worth living. Toothless could not begin to imagine why, but sharing his wings with a human made the experience all the more interesting. They had left Balheim at midday, and it was already past sundown when Hiccup finally chose a place where to settle.  Showered by the cool tinges of twilight, this island appeared to be less than half the size of Old Balheim. The deep, shady mouth of its lone but tall volcano housed a small glacier, which was the source of the island’s many thin waterfalls and rivulets. Most of the mountain’s feet seemed permanently concealed in low, misty clouds. The forest was rich with both slender saplings and proud old trees, heavy with needles or dark-green leaves. The resources seemed abundant, and the clearings plentiful, and, most importantly, it was not inhabited. Not by humans at least. “This place looks nice. What do you think?” Hiccup said as they approached. He sounded pleased, but his voice did betray some exhaustion. “This could very well be our next home. Seems big enough, and I think I see water, and… there! There’s sand!” Toothless veered towards the northern shore, which appeared slightly more hospitable thanks to its sandy beach, whereas the southern side was almost entirely trailed with cliffs. The island was indeed uninhabited by humans, but the clear scents of a small number of dragons soon reached his nostrils. Despite the fact that mating season was soon about to begin, the resident dragons didn’t give off any particularly aggressive scents, nor did they seem particularly ill-inclined. In fact, one dragon appeared quite welcoming to the mighty Night Fury, or so Toothless believed when they landed, for the little Terrible Terror (as Vikings used to call them) was instead more interested in his rider, who had just slid off his back, and, after removing his rather tattered boots, was now enjoying the sand with his bare feet. The small twitchy dragon approached curiously, sniffing the air with short, nervous breaths. He was mostly bright green, but the top of his head and the tips of the tendril-like fins on his back were colored red. The Terrible Terror squawked to get Hiccup’s attention. Toothless refrained from growling. Free Terrors were mostly harmless, especially when alone. “Hey, little guy,” Hiccup said, forgetting to remove the heavy basket from Toothless’ back. He crouched lower on the sand and extended a welcoming hand to pet the small animal. “Do you live here?” he asked, as the little Terror leaned gleefully into his hand, clearly enjoying the friendly scratches. “AAUGH!!! Thor’s fff…” Hiccup screamed and hissed, making Toothless jump in alarm. Toothless was ready to tear the little green beast apart, when he noticed that what had caused his human to yell was actually a tiny crab, which had bitten Hiccup’s bare foot. The crab was immediately flung in the air by the boy’s sudden jolt of pain. Before Toothless could relax again, the Terrible Terror readily shot a small, but very quick ball of fire towards the tiny crab, before it fell on the ground. He then rushed to the dead creature and picked it up with his teeth. He finally offered it to Hiccup. It was an unusually friendly gesture for the often selfish species. Annoying little thing, Toothless thought to himself. He couldn’t help feeling left out, which was very much a new feeling to him, one, he realized, he did not like at all. Besides, his annoyance was justified; his prosthetic fin was chafing his tail, the basket was still weighing on his back, and his rider had completely forgotten about both. “Nice shot!” Hiccup exclaimed, picking up the dead, semi-cooked crab. He did not seem to refuse the offer, though he did not eat the crab either, much to Toothless’ relief. “Thanks, little guy. How about a name? I’m going to call you…” Hiccup hummed thoughtfully, “Sharpshot!” Sharpshot?! Toothless huffed, rolling his eyes. How about ‘Barely-Decent-Shot’? Yes, Toothless decided, this tiny, jolly, and annoyingly lovable dragon was definitely too friendly for his liking. Without Hiccup seeing him, he squinted at the little Terror. To Toothless’ utter shock, in an unbelievable display of impudence, the little Terror stuck his tongue out.

It reaches him like a sudden blow to the face. Quick. Painful, and completely undignified, and leaving him very out of sorts. He is aboard the Gilded Lady, on his way to a required Event for the Season of the Century, a tedious affair with other Houses of the Glorious Generation, specifically one only Primaries can attend. He is the youngest member to attend, and the other Houses are always eager to point it out. They call him a child, they call him a boy and it is out of sheer jealously, he knows. After all, boy he may be to them, but he is still the Primary to a more prosperous House, a more wealthy House, a more perfect and pinnacle House. "Lord Balem," said Tskalikin, his deep voice a hiss, and, Balem noted, alarmed. "Be quick, Tskalikinn," he responds boredly, his voice a rasp. "A missive has been sent from the Orous Authority of Houses." Balem blinked. Shifted slightly from his position in front of his vanity where he had been placing the final touches upon his attire. "What in the Verse could they say to me? Is Titus being made an example of by the government of Orous?" It didn't happen often. But sometimes Orous liked to take a blow to a House, a weak show of intimidation and a sorry attempt to police them. They had never dared to do so to House Abrasax. As sorry as Titus is as a member of my House, this will not stand. "No, my Lord. It- A claim of Inheritance has been made to House Abrasax." What. Balem could not contain his quick turn around, nor the way his eyes went wide at the announcement. "Who is the claimant?" The Sargon kept himself straight, hands behind his back, a feat with his hideous wings. "Not a claimant. Claimer, my Lord, as it has been accepted. Queen Jupiter Jones of House Abrasax, first of her name, Reoccurrence of Seraphi Abrasax, the new Sovereign of the Glorious Generation has taken her claim and place within House Abrasax." Balem cannot breathe for a single second. A Reoccurence. Mother. Mother. "KILL ME BALEM, JUST KILL ME! I HATE MY LIFE!" "The validity of this claim- WHAT IS IT?!" he bellowed, his throat burning. The Sargon winced. "It is an a-hundred-percent match, my Lord. The transmission has been authenticated by our communication expert, and Aegis missives have stated that we are not to trespass upon Queen Jupiter's Holdings until she has made her own assessment of all her Holdings. A list of the Holdings you have been stripped of has been sent." Balem could barely believe this. "Find me recordings of her Ascension." "All known footage of her is in your desk, Sir." Balem made his way to his desk. Tried not to tremble and failed miserably. And quickly loaded the recording. The room was full of the horrific dull halls of Orous's Halls. Dull grey, dirty, and… And in the middle of it was a girl in a resplendent white and gold dress. Beautiful and just like I used to favor- Just a child. Barely old enough to claim her inheritance. A wisp of a thing. But it was his mother. "LEAVE!" he bellowed, all the while not taking his eyes off of his mother. He barely heard himself be left alone. Barely felt as he walked to the image of His Mother. Barely felt the rapid beating of his own furious, aching heart. Dark hair. Olive skin with just the barest hint of tan, two eyes of different colors. Pale green and brown. Luminous and assessing. She walked just the same. Pace even and elegant. Her dress was one to impress, worthy of a Queen. Worthy of her. Much too young. Not really his Mother. But… But. "There you are," he whispered, voice trembling and shaky and so quiet he barely heard it, "There. You. Are." She was barely old enough to reach the marking desk, had to be given a stool by her Advocate to reach the machine. Balem watched as she tore through the order he had worked so hard to achieve in a single second. "It's cool," the recording said, sweet, even, his mother. She flashed her Enitled Holding mark behind her. To her entourage- Balem jumped at the sight of them. Unworthy. A teenage Splice, far too human to be decent, with only her transparent wings denoting her status in her long fiery robes. A Keeper in similar robes. And another Splice in military garb with similar wings. Too human as well. What sort of rabble does my Mother surround herself with?! "It's very nice," said the teenage splice, beaming. "I am so sorry," said the man behind the desk, face grim filled face sad. His mother turned. Smiled. Full and even and calm. "Whatever for?" "For the tragedy, your Grace. You were a Terristie. You'll see soon enough." His mother's smile- it turned cool and perfect and just what it had always been. "Doesn't matter. Thank you for the condolences. But they won't be necessary." I miss you, Mother. It was a sudden, ridiculous thought. But Balem knew it was true. "Shall we, Majesty?" said the male splice. Balem thought he looked familiar. But he could not place him- "I suppose my Holdings won't inspect themselves. Thank you, Sir Seal and Signet Minister, you have made my Ascendance a delight." She descended from her stool. Small and dainty boots barely making a sound. The teenage splice and Keeper walked forward to help her with her long train. She didn't even look back to them as they did so. She regally gave a nod to her Advocate. "Advocate Bob you have done well in my Ascension. Coordinates to the shipyard with my ship, The Red Hawk will be available if you need to send me any additional information." The Red Hawk. His Mother's mobile Alcazar. He had been trying for years to acquire it, desperately trying to contest her will to make it available to him. She has cut my inheritance. Reduced our ability in the Market by cutting off access to the Refinery-  SHE OWNS THE EARTH.  What if she sees it again? What if she goes mad again?! "Kill me Balem, Just kill me! I HATE MY LIFE!" I don't want to, Mother. But I will. You are in the way again. "I am sorry, Mother," he whispered, gently, "But there can only be one of us. And you have gone once before."

Will isn’t good at cities. It’s easier to avoid eye contact in a crowd, but there are always people brushing past him, noisy and unpredictable. Will is better at individuals, and even working at the Bureau, he was glad to live far enough outside of DC that he couldn’t see or hear anything but fields and woods and familiar animals. Hannibal loves cities though, art and culture and centuries of architecture piled on top of each other. Once they’re settled in a tiny, perfect apartment, he dresses Will in suits that fit too well and takes him out to promenade on the avenues like something out of a nineteenth-century novel. It’s dreamlike in those first days, so far removed from any reality Will has ever known that he wonders if he’ll wake with his ears ringing in a hospital bed. When they left the US, he was still groggy with painkillers, bandaged to look as though he’d come from a plastic surgeon and not a fall that should have killed them both. “There will be a scar,” Hannibal told him, checking the real bandage across his torn cheek, stitched through inside and out but stinging when Will tried to move his face. “But you will still be exquisite.” Hannibal is earnest in complimenting him, and Will can hardly bear the weight of it, used to coyness and dissembling. Hannibal calls him “exquisite” again in the boutiques in Vienna where Will is fitted for suits that rival Hannibal’s own in pattern and detail. Will pretends not to hear the word as a small, dark haired woman tugs the hem of his pants down over his shoes. He finds himself waiting for Hannibal to touch him, electric for even the brush of Hannibal’s fingers straightening his collar. There is only one bed in their new apartment, but it covers nearly the whole width of the bedroom, and when they’re on opposite sides of it, it’s as chaste as a childhood sleepover. But Will is sure this is temporary, this distance, and the first few nights he lies paralyzed in the dark, imagining what he would do if Hannibal reached out for him. It reaches the level of fantasy, and Will has to admit it is not his first fantasy about Hannibal. And yet, night after night, Hannibal sleeps on the other side of the bed, wakes early to make beautiful breakfasts, thin crepes crisp at the edges, omelets spilling over with fresh vegetables, small tender sausages with the butcher paper left ostentatiously visible on the counter just so it’s clear that they were not of Hannibal’s own making. He hasn’t killed anyone, as far as Will knows, and they’re hardly ever apart. Although he remembers Alana being Hannibal’s alibi once when he slipped out of bed beside her, and then he thinks better of his certainty. But Hannibal does not seem eager to be caught. He is not taunting the police or making a scene for Will to read like a love letter. Their life so far is simple and domestic. Hannibal buys him a robe, unlike anything Will has ever had before, silk satin with wide sleeves that make Will feel absurd as they move over his skin. He is used to mornings at home in his boxers and undershirt. The fabric warms against his forearms as he sits at the table overlooking the street, until it’s almost like someone else touching him, brushing against him. On cloudy mornings he catches Hannibal watching him reflected in the glass, and it is an easier form of eye contact, when Hannibal is barely more than a flat silhouette. New fantasies bloom in Will’s mind, Hannibal pressing him against the window, holding him in place, creasing the satin robe until he has to take it off before it’s ruined. He looks away from the window and crosses his legs. He knows he’ll need to make himself come in the shower after breakfast, and it’s all he can think of until then, the imminent relief of it. Hannibal looks at him over the rim of his cup, and Will wonders if he can smell it, the sting of Will’s arousal in the air. Someone in a shop refers to Will as Hannibal’s “partner” and Hannibal does not even try to correct him. Will stares at a display of antique coins and wonders how often that happens in German without him knowing. If he is Hannibal’s partner, why won’t Hannibal close the distance between them? He’s never shown any regard for Will’s boundaries, physical or otherwise, before. Hannibal enjoys cooking, so their days are circumscribed by the time needed to prepare dinners. They eat late, in the continental style, but even so, they’re usually home by sundown, nightlife rolling by in clicking heels and laughter below the window, and Will learns to treat it like a natural phenomenon, like the rustle of trees and hum of insects outside his house in Wolf Trap. Sometimes Hannibal plays music on the little Bluetooth speaker he’s laid on the coffee table, switching wordlessly among compositions Will doesn’t recognize and won’t ask about. Will learns to read his moods in the music, in harsh cymbal crashes and soft meandering piano and low, mournful violin. At times he feels as if a bow is being drawn across his body, as though he’s vibrating in time with Hannibal’s music, in time with Hannibal himself. One night Hannibal takes his hand as he’s chopping tomatoes, making a pulpy mess of it. He is gentle, as though he’s helping a child, but Will’s fingers clench on the knife handle as Hannibal shows him a new motion. Hannibal is pressed against him, all along his side, and his breath is low and even as Will manages the rest of one tomato before he sets the knife aside and turns, leaning farther into Hannibal’s body. Hannibal’s eyes go to Will’s mouth, and Will thinks Hannibal will kiss him this time. Surely, Hannibal will kiss him this time. But Hannibal steps away. “One tomato will be fine,” he says, returning to the stove. Will’s sense of loss is wrenching. His cheeks burn with humiliation, and he begins to wonder if desire is not what animates Hannibal at all, if what Hannibal wants from him has never been as base as sex. He tries to reassess what he knows about Hannibal, removing that part of the profile. Perhaps Hannibal has brought him here for the love of aesthetics. Will wonders if he could live with that, shuffle his own desire into a neat little corner to be dealt with at private moments. It wouldn’t be so different from the persistent singleness of his entire adult life before Molly. He forces himself into a new discipline, not leaning into Hannibal’s touch, not courting it. He learns to straighten his own tie to avoid the temptation of Hannibal pressing close to do it for him. It aches, but he thinks he can get used to it. “Have I done something wrong, Will?” Hannibal asks, when Will flinches away from the hands smoothing the shoulders of his coat. Will looks past him and shakes his head. He is imagining Hannibal’s pressing on his shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. He’s ashamed of how much he wants it. “I just got lost for a moment.” Hannibal cocks his head. “If something is bothering you, I would like to know.” Will shakes his head again. “We should go, before the market gets too crowded.” “Of course,” says Hannibal, and he tucks his arm through Will’s as they leave. Hannibal watches him as they make their way through the maze-like corridors of the market, each stall discretely busy, purposeful in its daily routine. Will tries to pass unnoticed as usual, and yet today Hannibal insists on asking his opinion about fruit preserves and cuts of pork, matters of taste Will couldn’t care less about. It feels almost mocking, and Will finds himself resenting it, responding less and less. Hannibal sets a pork shoulder gently in a canvas shopping bag, nestled between an acorn squash and a jar of gooseberry jam. There’s an edge to his voice when he says, “If you do not feel comfortable sharing with me like this, perhaps we should return to our old ways of communicating.” Will smiles tightly. “I like it better now that we’re not trying to kill each other.” Hannibal pats his arm. “I was thinking of a therapy session.”   Hannibal sends him out for fresh bread early the next morning. Will pulls on jeans and a soft black sweater and sets off in the pearly light of dawn. The city is easier at this hour, when anyone who’s out is moving with purpose and direction, barely looking up from their errands. He falls into the current and lets it carry him to the bakery up the road, slips into the floury familiar hum of the shop. The sleepy teenager behind the counter doesn’t demand small talk and Will leaves with a warm, soft loaf tucked under his arm. Will comes back from the bakery to find Hannibal has moved the two armchairs in their living room in to face each other in front of the fireplace, a leather bound notebook resting in one of them. It looks nothing like his office in Baltimore, and yet it resonates, draws Will back to another time. Hannibal sets the bread on the counter and nods at the tableau. “Perhaps you could humor me before breakfast? Just a little?” “For old times’ sake,” says Will, and he sinks into the chair across from Hannibal’s. He wonders why this couldn’t have waited until after breakfast, but Hannibal would have wanted him off guard, so it’s not really a question. “Should I tell you about my childhood?” Hannibal smiles and opens his notebook. “That sounds like a fine place to start, if you like.” He waits with his pen poised, as though prepared to take dictation. Behind him the sun is golden through the window, the fullness of morning making him blinding to look at. Will looks at the fireplace instead. “I don’t know what to say.” “Why don’t you start with a memory? Something that calls to mind a strong emotion. Anger, or elation, or lust.” “Lust?” Will rolls the word off his tongue almost unwillingly. Does Hannibal know he’s started showering in the evening just so he can masturbate before getting into their shared bed? Hannibal’s face is impassive. “If you like. When you were young, what did you desire most? What called to you most irresistibly?” Will remembers that lust does not have to mean something sexual. He keeps his eyes on the screen in front of the fireplace, shame ringing in his ears as he redirects his thoughts. “I wanted so much. I sometimes thought want was all I was because we didn’t have much, so everything the other kids at school had seemed like a punishment.” “A punishment? But you had done nothing wrong.” “I didn’t know that. My dad used to say things like, ‘I’ll get you a new bike if you’re very good,’ but I was never going to be good enough because we’d never have money for a new bike. Good enough just got further and further away, and there was nothing I could do.” “Did you feel guilty?” “Yes.” Will decides not to elaborate. “We have discussed your feelings of guilt before. You take a great deal on your shoulders that does not belong to you.” Will shakes his head. “Not anymore. I’m not trying to get into anyone else’s head anymore. Whatever’s left, it’s mine.” “And, that being the case, you no longer feel guilt for your own desires?” He can’t avoid Hannibal’s eyes, and yet he cannot possibly meet them. He feels as though he’s been backed into a corner. Even the chair beneath him feels more rigid, suddenly, the walls of the apartment looming in on him. “What do you want me to say, Hannibal?” “Just tell me what you desire, Will. That is all I’ve ever wanted.” Will’s jaw feels tight, tension coiling in all of his joints, elbows and knees, hips and shoulders. He imagines Hannibal slicing him open, carving out his desires, scooping them up to lay like organs between them. Will wonders how they would look, bloodied and gleaming, if he would feel lighter with them excised. “Some desires need to be reciprocated,” Will says softly. “And if they’re not, it’s better not to mention them.” Hannibal steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, and Will’s vibrating imagination fills with every way Hannibal might touch him with those hands. He sees the trap closing around him, but he doesn’t know what Hannibal will do once he’s caught. “I want you,” he says, the words like a rope squeezing tight around his chest, creaking as it ties him down. He looks, but of course it’s nothing, just his outwardly normal body in an armchair. He looks like someone who could get up and walk away, but he can’t. “I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I want to suck your cock.” His voice is breathless and thready, lungs constricting under invisible pressure. Hannibal shifts in his chair, crosses his legs in the opposite direction. “And somehow you have gained the impression that those things would be unwelcome.” Will tries to take a deeper breath. He stares at Hannibal’s knee, not the slightest tremble in his pose. “You don’t invite them.” “Don’t I?” Hannibal sets aside his notebook and pen. He uncrosses his legs and does not re-cross them, thighs parted so that Will cannot help but look between them. He imagines crawling across the floor to press his face in Hannibal’s lap. He doesn’t think he could walk, his whole body flushed and trembling as it is. “You could have been clearer,” he says, in a poor imitation of disaffection. Hannibal cocks his head and begins to undo his trousers, long fingers working over his fly, the inviting shape of his cock beneath. “I do not want you to feel confused or uncertain, Will. There is no need for that now, when we can know each other truly.” He reaches into his trousers, rubbing at himself through his underwear while Will watches, transfixed, gripping tight to the arms of the chair. Hannibal makes a soft noise, and Will slides down onto the floor as though gravity has forced him there, as though his body is now too heavy to do anything but move towards him. He crawls, because that feels right, palms flat on the carpet. He’s never sucked cock before, but as he reaches Hannibal’s spread thighs, his mouth is almost watering with desire. He rests his cheek against Hannibal’s thigh and breathes in the earthy, human scent of him, the bitter tang of arousal even Hannibal can’t hide. He’s sometimes thought Hannibal must be more, must be something other than just human, but as he nuzzles up towards Hannibal’s crotch, it’s obvious that Hannibal is just flesh and blood like anyone else. Having come this far, Will has to be careful about his next steps. He feels unprepared, now that he’s here, pressing his lips to the shape of Hannibal’s cock through his underwear. It’s less intimidating with the barrier of cotton between his open mouth and Hannibal’s skin, and Hannibal sighs in apparent contentment, letting him do just this. He rests his hands on his knees in a pose like meditation as Will sucks at the fabric over the tip of Hannibal’s swelling cock, pulling it into his mouth just a little. He wishes Hannibal would touch him, direct him, but of course he won’t. He’s already given Will all the guidance he asked for. If he wants more, he’ll have to ask for that too. “Touch me,” he says softly, lips nearly brushing Hannibal’s cock. “Show me how.” Hannibal’s hands move, one caressing Will’s face and the other reaching for his cock, pulling it out so it’s tantalizingly close to Will’s face. Will looks at it, the full length and breadth of it, and desire washes over him in waves. He leans in, getting his lips on it again, breathing in the scent of Hannibal’s skin, the heat of it. Hannibal’s hand slips into his hair, almost incidental over the curve of his skull. Will works his tongue over the head, an experimental swirl around the edge of Hannibal’s foreskin, and when he looks up, his eyes catch Hannibal’s and he can’t look away again for a long time. Hannibal’s expression is warm, fond, almost proprietary, the way he looked on a bloody cliff in the moonlight, as though Will is everything he could have hoped for. “You’re doing very well,” Hannibal tells him quietly, gripping more firmly at his hair, and Will’s ears ring with how much he likes hearing it. He opens his mouth around the head of Hannibal’s cock, showing that he can, that he isn’t afraid of it. He firms his lips around it, covering his teeth, wondering if Hannibal expects him to bite. It seems unfair to do this before he’s even kissed Hannibal’s mouth, but then the intimacy of their relationship has never followed the expected path. Will leans in farther, pushing the head of Hannibal’s cock to the back of his tongue and shutting his eyes as his gag reflex threatens and subsides. He can do this. He can hold Hannibal inside him, move around him with a wet pull of spit, taste the early spill of him, thin fluid reminiscent of seawater and blood, familiar. Hannibal sighs and twists his fingers in Will’s hair, and Will’s scalp tingles pleasantly. He presses forward, elbowing onto the edge of the chair as he sucks Hannibal’s cock as deep as he can, finding a rhythm within his own labored breath. The sound of his mouth seems too loud, greedy and wet, and Hannibal isn’t making any noise of his own. But the trembling clutch of his fingers in Will’s hair gives him confidence. Hannibal holds onto him, firm, compelling pressure, holding him back when he would choke himself on Hannibal’s cock, guiding him like a rudder in a storm. He lets himself get lost in the sensation of it, lets his focus narrow down until the world is just heat and spit and skin and the pull of Hannibal’s fingers. A sharp tug on his hair brings him back, and he looks up as Hannibal shoves forward into his mouth, deeper than he’s allowed himself so far, and comes. It’s heavy and hot on the back of Will’s tongue, and he coughs and pushes away, startled. “That was rude,” he gasps out, and Hannibal gives him a delighted smile. “I apologize,” says Hannibal, warmth and languor woven into his voice. “A moment’s impulse. Come here, Will.” Will thinks about standing, about taking one step to tower over Hannibal in his chair, but his knees are watery, so in the end he lets Hannibal help him into his lap, Will’s legs barely fitting to either side of his hips, Hannibal’s softening cock tucked away neatly in his trousers again. He looks down into Hannibal’s face, warm and fond, and Hannibal touches his jaw, guiding him into a kiss. Will can’t help but close his eyes as Hannibal’s mouth touches his, softly opening. Hannibal kisses persuasively, licking into Will’s mouth and tasting himself there, one hand settling at the small of Will’s back to keep him in place. Will sets both of his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders as he leans in close, and still he almost overbalances when Hannibal’s free hand goes to his cock. He’s hard. He’s been hard almost this whole time and kissing Hannibal isn’t doing anything to change that. Hannibal unfastens his trousers with one hand, fingers gliding over the rigid shape of Will’s cock, and Will squirms, breaking away from the kiss to gasp a few breaths. He rests his forehead against Hannibal’s, looks down as Hannibal works his cock free from his boxers, holding it gently in the cup of his palm. “Go on,” says Will, and Hannibal kisses him again and starts to stroke him. It’s dry, nearly painfully so, and Hannibal moves slowly to reduce the friction, but Will can barely stand the tease of it. He pushes his hips into Hannibal’s hand, greedy. Hannibal lets go of him though, sits back a little and holds up his palm to Will’s mouth, and he understands the request. Will licks it, thoroughly, cheeks hot as Hannibal watches him do it. It feels as intimate as sucking his cock. When Hannibal touches him again, it’s slicker but still barely enough, and Will arches towards him anyway, angling to kiss him. “There are so many ways I want to touch you, Will,” Hannibal says at the corner of his mouth, and the noise that comes from Will’s throat is soft and wounded, impossible to keep inside. Hannibal kisses his jaw and the tender throb of his pulse, and Will bends his head for it, letting Hannibal wrap around him, engulf him. Hannibal’s teeth graze his skin, and Will imagines him biting down, biting through, but he moves on again, back to Will’s mouth, pressing his tongue inside. The movement of his hand becomes more urgent, and Will can feel himself shaking, tensing, moments from coming as Hannibal’s thumb smears across the slick head of his cock, teasing against the sensitive slit. It’s as though he wants to feel Will coming as close up as possible, and Will can’t help spilling over in Hannibal’s grip, thick strands of come trapped by Hannibal’s hand as it covers the head of his cock. He imagines Hannibal lifting it to his mouth, making him taste it and compare the flavor to Hannibal’s own, asking questions like he does about wine. But instead Hannibal lets go of him all at once to lick his own fingers. He shuts his eyes to do it, and Will feels lightheaded watching him savor it. “May I take you to bed, Will?” Hannibal asks softly, bringing his licked hand up to cup Will’s cheek. Will imagines flecks of his own come drying in his beard and finds he doesn’t care. “It would mean a further delay to our breakfast.” Will is coltish and unsteady as he unfolds from Hannibal’s lap, and he doesn’t even bother to fasten his pants. Hannibal is looking him up and down with renewed desire, blatant enough that it chases off any of Will’s remaining uncertainties. “I have to admit, I’m not all that worried about breakfast right now,” he says.

Jesse is restless beside him in the bed - tossing and turning with soft huffs. Something bothers the cowboy, keeping him awake. It isn’t the first time Jesse’s had a sleepless night in his presence, and it will not be the last. However, this is the first time he hasn’t sought out Hanzo’s comfort. When his nightmares and his ghosts bleed into the waking world, Jesse grasps and tucks into the archer. Even if it means waking him up - of which Hanzo assured him that it was alright, that he’d rather be awake than letting him suffer alone - his mate shouldn’t hesitate in asking to be held. Tonight is a different story. Hanzo lets the cowboy shuffle for ten minutes more, hoping that he will settle and fall asleep, but it never happens. He rolls in the bed, and meets wide, wet brown eyes. “Ah, sorry hun,” The cowboy croaks, wiping at his eyes furiously with the back of his hand, leaving them drier but red all around. “Didn’t mean to wake ya.” The archer draws his eyebrows in concern, rests his arm over Jesse’s waist. “You did not. I could not sleep either.” Not when he was worried about the gunslinger’s state of mind. The day hadn’t been easy and Hanzo’s mind still races whenever he thinks about how Jesse just disappeared. His fingers find purchase on the thick flesh of Jesse’s side, reminding him that his mate, his sunshine is still there. Something brews in the gunslinger’s mind, something troubles him but Hanzo can’t pry, unable to see past him in the waking world. As much as he despises it, there are things, more often than not, that even Hanzo can’t fix. Sometimes he is suffocated under weight the gunslinger can’t let go of, and there are demons so big that even he is brought low by them. Strong hands slide up his arm, winding up around his shoulder and to the back of his neck. Before he knows it, Jesse is dragging him into a slow, heady kiss that he drowns in. Their lips part, breath mingling and Hanzo catches his gaze, oddly reverent and determined behind the wet shine of his eyes. He takes note of the gunslinger’s fingers grazing up his jawline, thumbing just under his eye. Surprise takes him when Jesse pulls his head in, pressing his cheek to the archer’s, and too soon they are clutching each other in desperation. Hanzo doesn’t want to lose him, can’t bare to stomach the thought, so he lets his fingers curl into the gunslinger’s hip like a vice. If Jesse is trying to keep his demons at bay, if he needs the distraction instead of dealing with it, tonight Hanzo will oblige him. Their bare legs tangle and Hanzo pulls their hips flush together, drawing groans out of both men. Jesse ruts, cocking his hip and tangling his good hand in Hanzo’s hair, beard and stubble scraping him until the gunslinger’s head tucked against the archer’s neck where his puffs of breath heat up the space between them. Hanzo’s hands wander down the broad expanse of Jesse’s back, where it softly gives, and his  fingers feel over every muscle that shifts beneath. Any other night, he would revel in his time, tracing the ridges of scars from old stories and the folly of battle, but tonight he has little attention to give to old wounds. Despite the cowboy’s tendency to tower over him, he feels small in Hanzo’s arms, unsure, like he’s trying to hide himself away. Jesse’s teeth worry at his shoulder, nipping and kissing until the spot is red from the attention. He creates more and more marks along Hanzo’s skin with the intent on leaving as many as possible before the sensation becomes too much. The archer returns the favor in a less than graceful fashion, taking large handfuls of the cowboy’s ass, roughly pawing at him. Hanzo uses this leverage to drag him closer, delighting in the hitch in Jesse’s voice and the stuttered groan bursting against his skin -  his teeth sinking in more than they should. Hanzo’s fingers slip between the cleft of Jesse’s ass, finding the place still tacky with drying lube from earlier in the night. It won’t be enough. The archer’s hand moves in slow circles at the meat of jesse’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart. His finger grazes over Jesse’s opening, testing, and the man tenses in his arms, a hiss slipping through gritted teeth. Hanzo withdraws his hands. “Sensitive?” “Sore,” The cowboy chuckles, nips at his neck. “You get real rough when you’re worried about me.” “We do not have to-” “No!” Jesse shouts abruptly, then quiets himself. “Please, Hanzo.” Something passes over those eyes, usually so vibrant and adoring, but now he’s not sure. He can’t read Jesse’s face. “I can handle it, please, I promise, I just- don’t stop.” The way his voice falls tears at Hanzo’s chest and fills it with the desire rend in the name of the gunslinger, but with nothing to invoke his wrath he must turn his attention elsewhere. “Roll over, my dear.” He purrs, tugging at the gunslinger’s hip. He reaches over to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table, but Jesse beats him to it, grabbing it and holding it just out of reach. Hanzo snarls under his breath, but scoffs, rolling his hips so that he grinds up into the cowboy. The gunslinger gasps but holds out, so the archer repeats the action - again and again with a firm, deliberate slowness until Jesse fumbles and falls pliant and lose, arm curling close to his body. Hanzo strikes in that moment of weakness, pausing mid-roll and snatches the lube from his fingers. “Y-y’can’t play me dirty like that, Haney.” Jesse’s voice breaks and Hanzo simply chuckles. “If you wish to play fair,” Hanzo kisses the gunslinger, teeth grazing over his lips as he retreats. “then do not pick a fight with a dragon.”. “Hanzo,” His mate begs sweetly, wiggling his hips backward, seeking  friction again. The archer could give in, comply and sink into simple pleasure, but he has other plans. He kisses along Jesse’s shoulders as he pours a generous amount lube into his hand. Clicking it shut, he tosses it aside and uses his clean hand to lift Jesse’s leg. The covers slip down, and exposed to the room, the cowboy shudders from the rush of cool air and arches forward. He outright yelps when Hanzo slicks cold lubricant along his inner thighs, between his ass and along the stretch of skin before his genitals. Hanzo shifts just so that his dick rests between Jesse’s legs, lowering the one he had raised to create a snug grip. Jesse for his part, whines and turns his head into the pillow, tries to touch himself until his hand is swatted away. As much as Hanzo would like to watch the man pleasure himself, tonight he is impatient. The dragon takes hold of Jesse’s cock, strokes it and begins thrusting between the cowboy’s thighs in time. It doesn’t take long for the steady rhythm to work into a frenzy, bolstered by Jesse’s sweet cries. Faster than he’d like, though if he had his way he’d tease Jesse with this for hours, the cowboy begins to go rigid with the beginning of his end. Hanzo urges him to let go, “So good for me, Jesse.” He snarls into the gunslinger’s ear, biting at the lobe. He picks up his pace, getting a better stance by propping himself up and leaning over Jesse. He snaps his hips harder now, determined to finish with him. But with a cry, Jesse’s spilling on the sheets, going boneless, and Hanzo’s approaching orgasm falls away with the lack of pressure. He grunts, lets go of Jesse’s cock to wrap his arms around the gunslinger. Hanzo rolls back until the cowboy’s solid weight lays upon him. Hanzo bites into Jesse’s neck, working the flesh with his teeth and holds tight when his hips lose their rhythm, so close, so close . Jesse tries to coax him over, reaches down between him and digs his prosthetic into Hanzo’s hips and begs . “Please, baby, come on,” He asks, voice ragged. It’s not enough. His hip locks up and he falls to the bed, his dick slipping from between Jesse’s grasp and his thighs. Frustrated, he takes himself in hand - it will do for him. “Wait-.” Jesse bleats, who rolls over and takes Hanzo’s hand away. The archer watches raptly as Jesse resumes his ministrations, understanding reaching him when the gunslinger slides down, peppering hanzo in little bites as he maneuvers towards his cock. “Jesse,” The cowboy looks up at him. “You do not have to.” “I wanna,” His lips curl at the corners when he smiles, kissing the thatch of hair at Hanzo’s crotch before licking his lips and taking all of Hanzo into his mouth in one fell swoop. Hanzo nearly chokes, more surprised that Jesse doesn’t- but he doesn’t tease, and for that the archer is grateful. He’s come too close to let them revel in any foreplay and with a strangled groan he reaches his long awaited, frustrating end. It is a welcome relief, leaving Hanzo to catch his breathe and melt as Jesse swallows his mess. The blowjob is swift and efficient, but there is no less affection as Jesse licks and drags his tongue upward. A bearded cheek rubs against the meat of his thigh, making him jump. Hanzo glares at the man as he chuckles. “Get up here.” He demands and the cowboy doesn’t listen, at least not straight away. He spends time around Hanzo’s hips and thighs, kissing and biting tenderly,  scratching at his scales. He trails wet kisses up Hanzo’s chest, laving at the small clusters of iridescent blue as he makes his way up the dragon’s body. The archer rolls his eyes and threads his fingers through the cowboy’s locks, a fond smile pulling at his lips. “Jesse, we need to sleep.” He pleas. “Alright- alright.” He agrees, nipping one more time before he rests himself half atop Hanzo. Jesse stretches and wiggles until his head rests against Hanzo’s chest and he has both of the archer’s arms wrapped around him. Only then does he begin relax. Hanzo noses at Jesse’s hair, hoping that he does not wake again in a few short hours and leaves him to drift. Unbeknownst to him, the cowboy never sleeps, counting the heartbeats of the dragon and trying to commit the pattern to memory, just as he memorized the pattern of his scales, and the difference between his dragons. When Hanzo squeezes him tightly in his sleep, fingers twitching against his skin, Jesse’s heart breaks just a little more. - A stifling warmth wakes Hanzo in a most ungraceful fashion. He kicks off the covers to alleviate the staunch feeling of the temperature overcoming him, but even the lack of blankets does little to aid him. The air around him is heavy with steam, making him hotter when he breathes it in. He spreads eagle on the bed which alerts him to two things. One, the sheets are in dire need of a wash… as is he. And two, Jesse is missing. Hanzo sits up quickly and takes stock of the room- the sheets are placed neatly over Jesse’s side of the bed. The gunslinger’s hat is still on top of the drawers with his serape still draped over the chair; two things he wouldn’t leave without, not after they were returned to his person.. The sound of the shower running catches his attention, makes his lips curl and his brows furrow. Jesse must be taking a while. There is certainly plenty to clean, and it would explain the mugginess of the air and the steam. Slipping out of bed, Hanzo approaches the door, left just barely ajar, and gently raps the backs of his knuckles against it. “Jesse,” He croons, “Are you alright? Do not make me wait long to get in there.” He pauses. “Or perhaps you are waiting on me ?” The thought taunts him mercilessly. Showers with Jesse are a welcome affair, usually in the aftermath of long nights. He loves the peaceful moment that comes with washing each other; fingers lathering shampoo into their hair, soaping down and emerging together feeling fresh, clean, sated. “Jesse?” The door gives easily with a gentle push, the steam leaking out from the sliver now billows out in large puffs from the open door. Hanzo scrunches his face from the sudden rush of heat, dragging a hand down his face as if that would stop the condensation from collecting on his skin. When it clears, the sight is far from what he was expecting. The mirror is shattered, scattered across the floor with the smaller pieces of it spilled into the sink basin - what happened? When? Why didn’t he notice? The shower is hauntingly empty. It’s door is left open, water no longer warm pooling on the tile and soaking into the bath mat. A towel is tossed over the top of the sliding panel and Jesse’s shampoo bottle is laying open, tipped on it’s side with the contents long since oozed out and down the drain. Slowly, Hanzo makes his way over to the shower, stepping over the shards of glass that lay abandoned on the ground. Stray pieces crunch under his heel- but he doesn’t linger on it. He twists it’s knobs until the water stops and the last of it slowly swirls down the drain. Pulling the unused towel down, he drapes it over the wet patch on the tiling, trying to ignore the way the air cools too quickly. Inhaling sharply, he steps away. Jesse isn’t here. Something’s wrong with Jesse. He turns and strides out, eyes catching Jesse’s comm on the desk, idle and left alone since they retired to their room last night. He quickly snatches it up, thumbs it open and checks his messages. It’s an invasion of privacy, but given the state the cowboy was in last night, Hanzo worries he is hurt, trying to hide away for a reason the archer doesn’t know. He thumbs at the screen until the messenger opens- the last few messages are from Hana last night, asking to have breakfast with him. Relief floods him. He’s off with Hana having breakfast, most likely helping her with the aftermath of the attack. And hopefully she is helping him deal with the rage that shattered their mirror- of which Hanzo makes a note to get fixed. His fingers scrape against the ridges of the communicator. The mirror. The shower. It bothers him. Something twists in his chest and doesn’t settle right in his stomach, but he doesn’t let himself think on it too much. He can’t. Jesse would enjoy his hat, feel better with it on. That’s the only reason Hanzo even considers joining them, not because he’s agitated and wants to make sure Jesse’s alright. Not because anger still pricks at the back of his mind. He could’ve prevented it. He should have stayed with the gunslinger. Inadequacy, failure, and fault. He doesn’t have the time to dwell on such feelings- there’s a cowboy in need of his hat. Hanzo picks up the stetson, patting it free of dust and dirt, and he briefly wonders if he should bring Jesse’s serape as well, until it catches his eye- a piece of paper. It falls, fluttering to the floor with Jesse’s slanted handwriting scrawled across it in hasty lines. A note. Anxiety roils in Hanzo’s belly as he bends to pick it up, tear stains soaking the paper. Nothing about this feels right, the dread in him twisting in coils, restricting his breath. Hanzo hesitates to turn the letter over. If he doesn’t read it, Jesse will be in the cafeteria. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, he can stroll out with the hat, shove it on that mess of brown hair he adores so much. If the letter doesn’t exist, Hanzo can cling to the idea that Jesse is still here. But as he reads the first words of the letter, he can’t deny it. As much as he wishes. As much as he wants. Steadying himself with quick, even breathes, he continues down the page.. ‘Dear Haney,’ Hanzo swallows a lump in his throat, he can hear the gunslinger’s voice through his writing, as if he were here reading it aloud.. ‘I can’t stay. I got well in over my head but I’m just not made for this kind of life. I would take you with me if I could, but we both know where I’m headed. I’d say forgetting about me would be best, but I don’t want you to. Please don’t forget me, Hanzo. I love you, my Sweetheart, my Sugarcube, please, please don’t forget. -Jesse’ There are fresh tear stains on the paper. Hanzo stockly wipes them away, his hands clenching into fists, crumpling the letter as the coil bubbles and bursts from up inside of him. His mate- His Jesse. The archer’s body shudders with a gasp, bracing himself. He isn’t-. He can’t be-. All at once it gives way to an anguished cry, and no force on earth could stop him from splitting into two. The paper floats to the ground - ‘don’t forget’ - and Hanzo tries to turn in on himself, keep himself together- one dragon wrapping around the other but it’s not the same as when Jesse holds him and he walks the earth on two feet. Jesse’s gone. He’s gone. He can’t be gone, he has to be somewhere. But where? Jesse wouldn’t leave his friends behind. He wouldn’t go back to Talon. Why would he return to the one place that frightens him more than anything in the world? He has to be somewhere here. Somewhere close. The note was hidden, not meant for Hanzo to find - surely it was an exercise of writing that Zenyatta had him do to deal with his anxieties. The omnic had done something similar for him, writing letters not meant for others to read but to help put words to his disorganized thoughts and feelings. Zenyatta. That’s where the gunslinger is, he has to be. He didn’t reply to Hana for breakfast; how foolish was Hanzo for thinking Jesse would just turn up there. The cowboy is hurting, the garden is the most logical place for him to go. Hanzo doesn’t bother pulling himself together, the panic preventing any sort of calm. He’s out the door, down a floor, and scratching mercilessly at the bottom of Reaper’s door within a minute. The trip is fraught with tangles and tumbles as his back legs move faster than his front, bunching up his bodies and twisting them over on the way. He has to see Jesse, he needs to know he’s okay. Yesterday’s worry is driving him mad, Jesse isn’t missing. Hanzo arrives by sheer desperation, claws scratching at it’s metal surface. The both of him yell for them to open the door, yet he knows all that’s heard is sharp cries and loud, rapid chirps. There’s a fumble and a groan before the door eases open, big enough for Sugarcube to squeeze through and make a dash for it. The garden is laid before him, through the screen door. He’s in there. He has to be. He yelps as he’s scooped up by his middle, flipping over and brandishing claws and teeth at whoever has made the mistake of grabbing him. But he meets Genji’s concerned face, who is so focused on the dragon in his hands that Sweetheart, the larger of the two, is able to brute through the door and skitter across the room quickly. “Hanzo, what-” His brother’s words are cut off by a loud screech, a frustrated, distressed  sound as Sweetheart scratches at the door to the garden Sugarcube fusses in Genji’s hold, digging his claws into the oversized sweatshirt he wears, snapping at air even when the hood cords get tangled in his teeth. “Garden.” Sweetheart manages. “Jesse.” He insists, far too distraught to focus on his words. The door opens, the path blocked by Zenyatta, whose voice is ringing softly. “Genji, is everything alright?” Jesse has to tend to his box in the garden, with the budding sunflowers and marigolds that are starting to burst over it’s ledge. He must be. Sweetheart doesn’t wait for him to move, can’t waste the time when Jesse should be there, will be there. He climbs the omnic, even gets assistance as Zenyatta moves to carry him over his shoulder. Front legs straight on his perch, he cranes his neck out to see his mate. But he finds the garden empty. Hanzo watches the garden, as if he could somehow will the gunslinger into existence. But the longer he glares at the lush, living fauna the more he resigns to the weight in his chest. Jesse’s not here. Genji gently rocks Sugarcube in his hold, perturbed by the abrupt and sudden silence from both serpents. The both of him inhale sharply, exhaling long before going limp. Despair crushes him, leaving him  pliant with soft, sad chitters. Sugarcube manages to drag himself into his brother’s sweater, wheezing weak wisps of smoke when Genji begins to pet the golden fur along his spine and asks him, “What’s happened to Jesse?” which only makes him whimper. Sweetheart feels misery acutely as a sharp stabbing pain through his body. It exhausts him, he can’t even bring himself to keep his tail off the ground as Zenyatta carries him into the room. Wetness gathers at his eyes, thick and more viscous than human tears, falling to the ground and on the omnic’s shoulder in soft, wet plops. He aches, hisses in as much warning as he can when he’s touched. Zenyatta instead reaches over to pet at Sugarcube, his orbs drifting from the table and chiming gently as he does. Both dragons feel the brief sense of calm that roll over them, even though the anguish and distress is greater than one could ever soothe. “Hanzo?” “Jesse is gone.” - “Jesse is missing.” They say together. Genji holds Sugarcube tighter who snuffles into the embrace. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere-” “He left his serape,” - “His hat,” - “His comm,” - “And a note.” They list, one after the other. But both voices, strained and weary with sadness repeat, “He left me a note.” “A note?” Both dragons tense. “He cannot stay.” - “He would take me with him.” - “Won’t ask me to forget him.” - “I cannot forget him.” Genji looks concerned, pets at Sugarcube and presses a thumb at the base of one of his horns, doing his best to comfort the dragons. “Hanzo… he left a note.” His voice is remorseful, as though this hurts him as well. “What if he simply left?” “He would not!” Two voices cry out, bodies twist, rising in anger. “He would not just leave. He would not do that.” He insists, looking Genji in the eyes. “He would not hurt me.” The words are quiet, vulnerable, and leave no room for argument. Hanzo slowly sinks back down where his bodies rest. “He wouldn’t.” If nothing else is certain about the gunslinger, his devotion to being at Hanzo’s side is. The cyborg scowls, gathering up Sugarcube. “Master, please watch him for a moment.” And once the dragon has been traded over to the omnic, he motions and moves to the back of the room. Lurking in the shadows, Hanzo had been so unfocused that he missed the obvious: Reaper. It was his room, of course he would be in here, perched on the large bed like a king. Perhaps on another day Hanzo will be concerned that the man was seeing him, the both of him, crumple in such a small, pitiful display, but today that worry was incomparable to the overwhelming loss he feels. He can’t find the energy to listen in as his brother and Jesse’s former commander speak to each other. The dragons cannot bear to focus. All that runs through Hanzo’s mind is an overbearing thought of ‘Jesse - Jesse’ that the rest of the world seems to pass in a haze. Zenyatta hums, begins to pace in a gentle flow of movement that rocks him. Hanzo feels babied, sickeningly coddled, and he should bring himself together and stand on his own two feet, but he can’t. The monk’s hold can only do so much for him. Genji curses, bright and colorful in their mother tongue, tossing his comm across the room in a swift, cracking motion. He stalks back over to Zenyatta and the dragons, scooping Sugarcube back into his arms and scratching his fingers through Hanzo’s golden mane- whether it’s to comfort himself or his brother, Hanzo will never figure out. He isn’t sure what’s going on, on edge from Jesse’s absence, on edge from his brother’s frustration. His mind races too fast, with so many possibilities on what to do next but indecisive of which he should choose. And for all he knows, the only thing certain is he’s running out of time. It’s answered for him quickly- as everyone’s comms go off at once, as mass message. Genji tightens his hold on Sugarcube, burying his chin into the fluff at Hanzo’s neck and huffs. “I’m sorry, brother.” He mutters. Zenyatta reaches for one of the comms in the room, all three resting on a little table and opens it. Sweetheart can see the message, and the title alone makes him flinch with more fat tears threatening to appear. >> ‘URGENT: Emergency Meeting - All Must Attend - Subject: Defective Agent’ It doesn’t take an expert to know the ‘defective agent’ is Jesse, his cowboy, his sunshine. - They’re late to the meeting, it takes longer than expected for Zenyatta and Genji to help Hanzo pull himself together. He’s frayed at the edges, just barely hidden scales creating welts across his face mimicking a skin condition- unnoticeable unless one were to look too close. It would have to do, it’s as much as he can focus on and with his stomach is in knots over if he’ll see the gunslinger again- about what could be happening to him at this very moment. Morrison shoots them a very pointed look as they enter, his desire for punctuality is more fierce on Hanzo, or maybe that’s because he thinks he was right about Jesse. No one can surprise a veteran. “No,” He barks the second Hanzo opens his mouth, harsh and rude- intentionally so. The shortness grates on Hanzo’s nerves, makes him itch to fight. It’ll be the same argument they were in the day prior.Hanzo will volley for Jesse’s innocence, Morrison will continue to insist that he knows more about McCree than Hanzo would to make that call. Two fighters going back and forth about a man who isn’t there to defend himself. The ex-commander stands tall, but there’s a weight to his shoulders, pulling him down. Despite how proud he looks, age has worn him down in comparison to the bright figurehead in his posters and it begs the question of how much authority he held back then. The room is silent and hangs with every small movement made. He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling roughly as though this whole thing is cumbersome. It sets Hanzo on edge because a rescue mission should not be an inconvenience, no matter who it is that they’ll be retrieving. “Agent McCree’s status has been changed to ‘Kill On Sight’.” There’s an uproar in the room - people demanding for an explanation, begging for it not to be so, and others grumbling about how they regret being right about him - but it all drowns in comparison to the ringing in Hanzo’s ears. Kill On Sight. They intend for Jesse to die. No more chances for the cowboy, not even if he explicitly deserves them. Morrison raises a hand, squares his shoulders and the room falls quiet, as quiet as it can with the shuffling of bodies and muted whispers between the closer agents. “It is not a decision I make lightly-” “Of course not,” Bodies twist and heads swivel to look to the back of the room where they find Reaper lounging idly in a chair, examining his clawed gauntlets as one would nails when bored. The room holds its breath- it’s not often the wraith speaks openly, even less so when Morrison is around. “It’s just one you make against anyone who’s a hassle for you.” Reaper glances up, his mask tilting. “Speaking from personal experience, mind you Jacky.” Morrison narrows his eyes, in combination of squinting without his visor and glaring at the other ex-commander. “He’s not a hassle, Reyes- it’s a repeated offense. How many more agents do we have to lose before you realize he isn’t going to change?”” Hanzo purses his lips, if he speaks it will just go around in circles again. He knows the gunslinger defected before Overwatch was disbanded, though Jesse has never opened up as to how he joined Talon and Hanzo hadn’t wanted to know explicitly why. Whether it was by choice or by force, all that mattered was that Jesse’s remorse was genuine- a feeling Hanzo knows all too well. “Before.” Reaper says with a snarl. “We didn’t know what we do now. Talon wasn’t on the radar, anything that wasn’t visible to us didn’t exist or didn’t matter- that’s how everything felt to us, back then.” He stands, approaches Morrison and cranes his neck forward. “Now we know what they’re capable of.” He begins to tick off a list on his fingers. “Extortion, mental- physical manipulation, torture, threatening of loved ones-” “We didn’t know that then, no.” Morrison agrees; at the very least he sees some reason. “But we know McCree.” “You don’t know shit about the kid, Jack.” Morrison glares heavily. “He’s not a kid- no matter how much you think otherwise, he’s not that lowlife punk you dragged back!” He shouts, pausing to collect himself with a deep breath. “I know you trained him,” Hanzo briefly wonders what Ms. Amari would have to say, if she were not currently away with her own mission. “I know what he’s capable of, I know that he was trained for this- but the fact of the matter is he went willingly.” There’s compliments hidden beneath the surface of the accusation- Jesse is strong, but perhaps that’s what makes him more dangerous in the hands of Talon. He survives, does what he needs to so that he can live another day. “He made his own decision. And he’s too dangerous for us to let him continue-” Ahem. All eyes turn to Angela, who stands and slips her body between the two titans of commanding power. “If I may,” She looks uncertain, but stands straight, determined- and regardless of if she may, she will continue. “There is something you will want to consider before putting your so-called justified order into effect.” Morrison furrows his brows when he addresses her, seeming to sag under the weight of her gaze, fury of his argument all but fizzled out. “I’m not changing my mind about him, Angela. Not this time.” He looks worn out and for a moment Hanzo almost believes that he really does regret having to make this choice, despite it being the wrong one. Hope is waning - with not a thought placed towards Jesse’s rescue, and a looming order of his death- and Hanzo can feel the gunslinger slipping through his grasp. Just like yesterday, he feels the cowboy’s fingertips slide along his palm as he leaves, a final goodbye before he’s gone. But this time, the archer has no confidence that he’ll be seeing Jesse again soon. Angela leers, reaching out and grabbing the ex-commander’s shoulder. She flicks her gaze between Reaper with a pointed look. “There’s something you may want to review.” She looks over her shoulder to Reaper. “And you as well,” Her eyes find Hanzo and she nods. Him too. Morrison calls the meeting, order put on hold until he sees whatever Angela has got for him- even if he doesn’t seem convinced. They wait until everyone else files out before Angela pulls out a tablet and connects it to the screen at the back of the room. Reaper and Morrison sit close to the front on opposite sides, and Hanzo stands at the end with his fingers curling around the back of a chair. He can’t bear to sit down, nervous energy building the longer they go without a plan to find his mate. It feels as if they’re wasting his time. The projector flickers on, clear and bright. It’s her personal tablet, if the background photo is anything to go by- her surrounded by small, grinning cherub faced children. She’s dirt smeared but smiling happily, receiving a kiss from the kid she holds. Tents and tarps, green and smeared in dust line the background. An omnic ruined landscape, a doctor treating the world. Personal means that the information she’s about to show them is not within Athena’s system- at least at this point in time. That is what peaks Hanzo’s curiosity- no one knows what she’s about to show and if anything- it sets him only more on edge. Angela pulls up a file, a video, the first frame is easy to see- a younger Jesse is on his knees, surrounded by men with guns. He looks worse for wear, bruised and bleeding. “He begged me not to show anyone,” She explains, glancing back at Morrison without turning her head. “But you need to see this. You need to understand what happened to him.” She presses play and then steps over to the side, turning away from the screen and her tablet. Whatever they’re about to witness, she doesn’t want to see it again. Jesse’s screaming rips through the room instantly, his throat already hoarse and worn. The camera angle shifts, like a person circling around him, and it becomes clear to see what they’re doing. His arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, a knife jammed into his shoulder blade- Hanzo knows that knife. The Sandman was fond of it. True enough, the Sandman’s croon comes through the speakers and chills run down Hanzo’s spine. “I’ll ask again, Mister McCree. Will you accept our formal invitation into Talon?” Like the cowboy Hanzo knows now, the cowboy of then spits at the Sandman’s feet and sneers. Reaper lets out a soft ‘attaboy’ at the fight he’s giving. “I ain’t workin’ for no-” He screams again, the movement is swift and sudden and it takes the occupants of the room to realize what transpired. In the blink of an eye, Jesse’s leg was extended and his knee shattered. The young cowboy’s face goes red, and his gritted teeth do nothing to muffle the sounds of pain he lets loose. His eyes are defiant, fiery and dangerous. Talon is toying with a man who could take them all out, who’s gaze promises agony as soon as he is free. He says nothing, doesn’t agree to join them. Jesse is strong, and unfortunately his captors know this. “We’re asking nicely.” The Sandman coos, leaning down to take Jesse’s chin in hand. There’s something sickeningly affectionate in that touch, the man was fond of those he caused pain. Hanzo remembers the burn of the Sandman’s palm under his chin as he tried to break the dragon, so disgustingly fascinated by his scales. “I could take your other knee, or your mind, or- perhaps…” The laugh the Sandman gives stills the room, it’s bad news, whether you knew the leader of Talon or not. The boss leaves Jesse, walks toward the camera which catches the nasty, devilish smile on his face. He turns to face his captive. “What about those friends of yours from Overwatch? We keep tabs on them, you know? Tracer has quite the sightseeing itinerary created, and - oh you will be delighted to hear this - Angela’s research clinic is doing quite well.” Hanzo glances to Angela, finds her hunched over, arms firmly crossed with her knuckles white in their hold. Jesse stares wide eyed, and Hanzo can see him breaking piece by piece- the one weak spot, his friends, his makeshift family of people who think he’s good. He needs them alive, even if they hate him. In Jesse’s eyes, Hanzo can see that the cowboy believes he’ll make it out of there soon, that agreeing is just a temporary situation. The gunslinger doesn’t know that no one will be coming for him for years. The Sandman approaches. Jesse once more who leans back, suddenly afraid of the leader. “Don’t-” His voice breaks as a black leather shoe prods at his destroyed knee, but he has to agree, he has to protect who he can. “Don’t touch ‘em, please.” Unsatisfied with that answer, or perhaps just because he’s a cruel man, the Sandman uses his foot to press against Jesse’s chest, his toe just under the cowboy’s chin. “I’ll join.” A song filters through, hummed but no less distinguishable from when the Sandman played it over the speakers and sang it while he drew samples and pumped things into Hanzo’s body. “ I knew you’d see things our way. ” He glances over his shoulder at the camera, an ugly smile on his face before he pushes Jesse over. Hanzo flinches as Jesse howls, the knife in his shoulder sinking in further, his knee jostled and his head hitting the floor behind him. “And we won’t touch them, I promise you that.” “Because you will.” The video goes black but there’s some shuffling and some whimpers that are definitely from the cowboy. Hanzo feels a sick churning in his gut, Reaper’s head hangs low but Morrison’s eyes are glued to the black screen- something is running through his mind, but Hanzo can’t figure it out, he doesn’t know the man well enough. Angela stays where she is, gaze fixed on the wall in front of her. “There’s another.” Is all she supplies before the screen comes to life again. The camera is held at head height and for one second Hanzo believes it to be attached to some sort of headgear- right up until a hand made of metal joints pushes open the door. An omnic, that’s what it is, with recording software. It approaches a lump on a bed in a dark room, gently peels back the covers to reveal Jesse’s face. He’s pale and shaking, a sheen of sweat covering his face. The omnic reaches out, tenderly tucks a lock of sweat-soaked hair behind an ear before it abruptly gives the cowboy’s cheek a quick series of less than affection slaps. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacey, McCree.” It coos. The cowboy grunts, his face twisting in pain as he turns it from the offender’s hand. The omnic sighs and grips his chin hard forcing Jesse to face what Hanzo is presuming is it’s own face- the recording device. His eyes are glazed over, unseeing - “Is he drugged?” Morrison asks, leaning forward and staring intently still. Reaper answers with a grunted ‘no’ and before he can speak, the words croak from the back of Hanzo’s throat. “He’s giving up.” It’s a face he’s only seen one other time, in the storage room when they were running. Jesse thought himself abandoned, staring down the barrels of too many guns and while he was going down with a fight, Hanzo had seen it in his eyes - resignation to a cruel fate. Accepting of death. This time, Hanzo is not there to surprise him, to bring that flicker of fight back into his gaze. Jesse doesn’t respond to being grabbed by the omnic and the automaton doesn’t take that too kindly, ripping the covers down with a harsh clicking sound from it’s headpiece. It doesn’t take an expert to know the bandages on the gunslinger’s arm shouldn’t be a sickly yellow and the skin peeking from beneath it shouldn’t be dark purple - black almost. With a start, Hanzo realizes that it’s flesh, decayed as it is. It’s Jesse’s arm, not the prosthetic which freed him. He’s losing his arm. The omnic yanks him out of the bed, the cowboy falls to the ground, weak and frail with fever. His body is failing, he’s letting go bit by bit - how long was he fighting for? “You’ve got a job, McCree.” It waits for Jesse to nod slowly, tapping impatient fingers against it’s arm. “What’s the rule?” “If-” Jesse draws in a shaky breath, using every last ounce of will within himself to keep going. The longer he lives, the longer he can make sure his former comrades live. “If’n I don’t come back with a body, I keep losin’ mine.” His voice breaks, trembles because he’s already losing. Hanzo shuts his eyes, unable to witness such a broken display, regardless of the knowledge that somehow, someway, Jesse survives this tormented state. There’s a thud and an irritated sigh from the omnic. The archer glances back at the screen, sees the omnic toeing at Jesse’s form. The cowboy’s breath comes fast, panicked, in shock . “Such a soft thing,” It comments dryly. “I will never understand why it wants you.” Jesse’s eyes open just barely, a glare of red eyes looking up before rolling back into his head. The omnic kneels, hefts the gunslinger’s form over his shoulder, “We best keep you alive, or else there will be hell to pay.” The video pitters out and Angela takes in a deep breath, collecting herself before looking at the men in the room. Her eyes are glossy and red, but her expression is no less bold, a look that Hanzo feels in his gut but refuses to show as much. He refuses to dwell on Jesse’s past pains, even if the cowboy were present, there is nothing Hanzo can do to change the circumstances of that event. He focuses ahead of him, his eyes flicking over to Morrison who leans on his knees, staring at the blank screen, brows knit together. Hanzo expects action, he expects for the ex-commander to stand up proudly and declare they must reclaim the cowboy. Instead he rises, slow, weary, and mashes a gloved palm on one of his eyes, rubbing the strain from them. “I…” -was wrong? -will form a plan? Hanzo hangs on the word. “... need to think.” Without much else, he slinks out of the room. Despite the tail between his legs, the old soldier doesn’t rectify the call- or make one at all, even though it’s clearer now that Jesse didn’t join of his own free will. That he stayed under the thought that the people he loved and knew would be safer if he did, and under the agony of losing his own body. They’re losing time. There’s no inkling to Jesse’s fate and Hanzo looks back over at the blank screen as though it has the answers. The idea ignites like a candlewick, a small light in the back of his skull. Morrison needs to see Jesse as Hanzo sees him, as Hanzo had learned to see him when he began gathering the intel to retrieve the renegade cowboy. He slips out quickly, there’s a phone call he has to make. - Hanzo perches in the rafters, eyes narrowed in suspicion at Morrison. The entirety of the base is together again, going over new drills and tactics now that they are down one gunslinger. Morrison hasn’t withdrawn his pending order, and he’s been trying to get his attention the entire day, likely to tell Hanzo not to run off and do something stupid on his own - which is exactly what he itches to do. There was no lie behind his words when he promised Jesse that he’d tear the world apart to get to him. But destruction begets destruction, this he knows, and he’s chosen for a more subtle route of ripping the world apart. Genji sits beside him, one leg dangling off their beam, the other bent so that he can rest his head on it. He’s been a silent companion in the day and a half since Jesse left, support when Hanzo needs it and a distraction when the archer falls too far into his own thoughts. The rest of the team is buzzing below - he can see Reaper and Zenyatta tucked away and talking, occasionally glancing up at the two dragon brothers, and Hana and Lúcio are conspiring, throwing loud laughs when someone else wanders too near. He wonders what they’re talking about and if he would feel more himself, more at ease, if he approached them without a thought, tease them because it’s a riot when they can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Jesse always knew- knows when he’s joking. His heart seizes briefly as he realizes that he’s already thinking about Jesse as though he were a part of the past instead of the present. A hand on his shoulder draws his attention to his brother. Genji’s faceplate is lowered but not removed, showing his eyes as he looks at Hanzo in concern. The archer nods, a silent thank you. The buzz of the conversations below quiets suddenly, followed with a light and smokey “Excuse me,” Everyone turn swiftly, hands flying to their weapons and readying them- only to lower them from the civilian before them. The woman takes them all in and a wry smile twists at the corners of her lips, “I guess I’m in the right place.” Morrison steps forward, slinging his gun over his shoulder. “Who are you?” Hanzo knows- her posture, her gait is a dead giveaway even if he didn’t know her name. She fancies the color red, by her attire; a long coat that sweeps at her calves, vibrant with gold trim to match the scarf wrapped seamlessly around her neck. Hanzo chuckles to himself- a wide-brimmed hat rests against her neck hanging on a string, not one be-fit of a cowboy, but something much sleeker. Her thick, dark hair is peppered with greys, similar enough, but her nose is identical to Jesse’s, wrinkling a little when she smiles and holds her hand out. “Nolli.” Ever courteous, even in the face of potential danger, the ex-commander returns the handshake, stands a little straighter when Nolli embraces it just as firm as he does. “Morrison- Jack.” He reciprocates before his words turn sharp. “How did you get in here?” Nolli beams innocently enough, smooths down the sides of her coat and folds her hands in front of her. “The front door of course, it’s only polite.” Hanzo covers his mouth to prevent himself from laughing at her coyness, he can certainly see where Jesse gets it from. Genji shoots him a look, tense over the stranger just like everyone else - surely he’s wondering why Hanzo is so relaxed. The old soldier isn’t having any of it, “I’m sure you noticed that you can’t just walk in here,” “But I did.” “So how did you get into the base?” He lowers his gun, holds it firmly in front of his body, a threat. She chuckles, deep and smooth. “I walked in,” Morrison goes to stop her but she continues on, regardless of the proximity of his weapon. “And used a handy code little I was given.” Winston seems to take over then, scuttling over to a nearby terminal and pulling up the base’s access logs. He adjusts his glasses and then frowns. “A guest code.” Everyone begins looking at each other, trying to figure out who brought this woman here. Genji clues in fast, “Brother,” He hisses and shoves at Hanzo’s leg. “She could get hurt.” His concern for Nolli is not misplaced, one wrong move and someone could believe she’s the enemy, but at the same time, it’s apparent she knows how to tread in dangerous waters. She’s played a peaceful position- her hands have been visible at all times, her movements slow, and despite her teasing, she’s answered all questions. “She can take care of herself,” He says, watching as Morrison eyes her carefully, assessing. “Who is she- Hanzo!” Genji shouts. He slips off the rafter, landing a bit away from the group with a soft thud before he stands straight and stares at Nolli. The other agents gather closer, whispering about what he intends to do. He knows what he is to them, cold and distant, and he knows that a few of them will never see past Genji’s armor plating. They fear what he has to say to this stranger. Hands shoot out to hold Nolli back as she approaches him swiftly, but she shrugs them off to get to him, standing toe to toe, looking up at him. Her heels could cut a fine line into dust, he realizes. Gentle hands come to cup his jaw, thumbs swiping across his cheekbones. “How was your flight?” He asks with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Quick. I am surprised.” “Good to see my name still holds some weight.” “And money, don’t think I didn’t catch the price on those tickets.” Her smile fades to sadness and all Hanzo can think about is how Jesse makes that same face; it’s the face waiting for the dragon to come for him, to save him. He crumples, folds into her and wraps around her. She’s wearing cologne, something thick and spiced. He doesn’t cry, can’t let himself with all eyes on them, but he holds her tight, twists his hands in her coat as though he has no anchor to hold him to the earth. Nolli embraces him, plays with the fine hairs on the back of his neck and rubs at his back. “Mijito.” She pries him upright and takes his face in her hands. She waits until he looks at her, face still twisted into a scowl. “I know you will find him. I know you won’t let them turn him into a weapon.” she whispers. Hanzo inhales, nodding swiftly, setting his face back into the mask he knows well before his eyes settle behind her. She smiles, a simple motherly smile. All too soon, she steels herself and draws straight, turning from Hanzo and facing down Morrison who no longer holds his gun as a threat. “Who is in charge?” Winston raises his hand uncertainly from his position at the terminal, regretting the choice when Nolli strides toward him. “Why haven’t you gone after my son? It’s in my understanding that he’s been gone for over twenty-four hours- aren’t those the most crucial?” People shift around her, away from her-Jesse McCree’s mother who demands answers with the tone of a woman who has raised hellions and shaped them up right. “We were just about to.” Morrison answers, approaching her. “I’ve been trying to form a team, but the designated leader,” Hanzo can only assume that his gaze is directed at him, the visor obscuring his eyes. “Has been avoiding me all day.” He isn’t wrong, but Hanzo refuses to be humble here, not with Jesse’s life on the line and when his stern pride is one of the few things he still has the dignity of keeping. Morrison sighs, rolls his neck with a crack. “Well, what are you standing around for? Hop to it Shimada. You’re the one who’s defended him the most, go and get him.” He lifts his hand as if to shoo the archer. “Take who you need.” Orders given, he quiets his voice to speak between Winston and Nolli. Hanzo wants to talk to her, assure her that he will get Jesse back, but she’s being escorted away before he can. He will just have to make good on his promise instead. - He is entirely prepared to leave on his own, team be damned. There is nothing that will stop him from finding Jesse, except for his brother’s hand firm on his shoulder, halting his brisk walk to his room. “I’m coming with you.” His brother says curtly and leaves no room for argument as he strides ahead and disappears into Reaper’s room. Hanzo quickly changes into something nondescript for his journey and shoves his bow and arrows into a sleek black case that hangs from his shoulder with a long strap. A small bag is stuffed roughly with a change of clothes, a clip of bills, and a burner phone. If he were more patient, he would properly pack, folding his clothes and making sure he had a great sum on an untraceable chip, but he’s wasting enough time as it is. He’s about to leave his room, when he passes the serape still draped over the back of a chair. It pulls him in, and his fingers bury and twist into the worn fabric, his callouses catching on the frayed patches in the weave. Vividly he can remember roaming his fingers along the golden pattern while he walked close behind the cowboy, tangling his small serpentine bodies in it when he no longer desired to walk. Slowly he pulls it off the chair, folding it as tightly as he can before replacing some of the clothes in his pack with it. No one will question if he’s wearing a few extra layers- he always ran cold-blooded. He doesn’t get to knock at Reaper’s door, Genji is waiting for him, tapping away at his comm as he leans against the wall. He wears a sweater that is entirely too large over his mechanical exterior and instead of a nondescript case for his weapon, a thin guitar case is resting against his back. “You do not have to join me.” Hanzo offers. His brother tilts his head - something of a smile. “Of course, Hanzo. He is my friend, and you are my brother.” He rolls a shoulder, standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother. “I know what it is like to lose a mate.” There is a story there, one that Hanzo one day hopes to hear, but it is for another time. “I hope you were not planning on leaving without us.” The melodic voice belongs to Zenyatta. The omnic walks with Reaper, arms linked as has become the norm to see them. Reaper separates only to open the door to his quarters and disappear inside. He leaves the door open and Genji laughs, ducking inside. Again, it appears as though the decision for his team is being made for him. The wraith rifles through a drawer before pulling out a set of comms. They look just like the Overwatch ones, but instead of a standard blue, they are sleek black and the logo is a red and white ship, a sword overtop- it matches the large symbol on the back of one of Genji’s hoodies. He hands them to everyone in the room and then silently demonstrates taking the earpiece out of the compartment in the back. “Blackwatch,” He says, pulling out a few more gadgets. He manhandles Genji, spins the cyborg so he can get at his bag, depositing his items in there. His brother seems to have become the designated pack-mule. “Harder to get past the encryption, and the base can’t listen in the whole time.” He pauses, turns and grabs an extra comm, tossing it to Hanzo. “For both of you,” The privacy and the consideration of his other form is welcomed, but Hanzo is still surprised that Reaper has said nothing to him about the dragons - though looking at how close he is with Genji, he is not surprised.. Zenyatta quickly leaves a message in Athena’s system, should anyone come asking for them, and just as they are about to depart, a sharp knock goes throughout the room. Another delay and Hanzo’s gut twists. He wants to find Jesse, he needs to bring him back home, wants to know he’s safe. “You were thinking of leaving without us?” Hana’s disbelief is undertoned with haughtiness, as though she knew she would be coming along no matter what. Lúcio waves at Hanzo, “We came to help.” The sinking feeling turns into swelling - if only Jesse could see them now, how many people want him home. How many people love him. Angela’s insistence upon proving Morrison wrong, Hana and Lúcio ready to throw themselves into danger for him. His old friend, old mentor, and his teacher all prepared to go in without a clue to save him. Jesse is loved, but unable to see any of it from where he is. “Now where do we start?” Hana asks. Reaper sighs and fishes out more comms - a quick glance tells Hanzo that he has enough for eight people roughly. Where he got them or why he was hoarding them, Hanzo will never know. “I have a list of bases, we start at one and comb through them until we find him.” Hanzo bristles. “That will take too long,” He snaps. “Surely there is a better method- which ones are empty, which ones are capable of being a prison. What about hidden areas such as the one I was kept in?” The blatant truth, is that they simply don’t have enough information. “And... what of new locations?” Genji asks in tandem, tilting his chin downwards. Everyone looks at each other before they begin to set their items down. There’s no good place to start, Talon’s secrets are well guarded. The wraith sighs, pulls out what looks to be a personal phone and taps away quickly. The reply is instantaneous and he growls at whatever is on his screen. “Give me an hour. I’ll be back with intel.” - Nolli thanks Winston as he hands her a warm coffee mug. A sip tells her it’s bitter, but she refrains from making a scene. Well, even more of a scene. Not like she could help it, the old soldier had made it too easy to tease and she was biding time until she found Hanzo. That rascal, hiding and watching her put the agents of Overwatch on edge. She smiles into her mug - a man after her own heart, that one. Speaking of, her heart breaks to recall how he looked, worn down and lost, and how he held her too tight in his grief. His wounds were too visible and unfortunately there was no time for him to recover before finding her son.  “So,” Nolli jumps, startled out of her thoughts. She was currently sharing a space with a talking gorilla. Strange, but not the strangest thing she’s ever seen. Winston clears his throat and pretends to have not noticed her surprise. “Where are you from?” “Montana.” “You got here pretty fast, assuming Mr. Shimada called you after…” He trails off, they both know what he implies. She smiles, eases the awkwardness. “The wonders of money, the boy doesn’t appear to be short of it.” Winston grins. “Certainly not, he’s been an asset in gathering resources and funding. It would be a lot tougher if he didn’t lend a hand.” An oversharer. He seems to think of something and lumbers over to a screen. From the angle, Nolli can’t see what he looks for, but there’s a visible crease between his brows. “Were you near the attacks? The omnic ones?” Pursing her lips, she nods. “My city was the first one hit,” She can still smell the smoke from her neighbor’s house going up in flames. “I’m sure you’ve heard here have been many attacks like it all over the world then- few casualties, thankfully, but too much destruction, and there’s been a lot of missing people after each attack.” He rambles off, handing her a tablet pad and letting her scroll through it. She sees faces, so many of them, labeled missing and short descriptions of them. All of them appear to have some sort of status due to a talent. “Are they collecting people who go above and beyond?” There’s a vet with a purple heart on the list, an olympic gold medal sprinter, and a businesswoman with a note of - Nolli’s eyebrows raise in surprise - eight fluent languages and three other semi-fluent. Winston shakes his head. “We thought that too, but there’s something else not adding up. All deceased are whole, but there are…. Body parts. Always with the omnics, but none of the tests are genetic matches to those missing. We don’t know where the pieces are coming from, it’s almost like the-” Nolli tightens up, “They’re bringing the pieces in with them.” “Precisely, and the same thing happened with the omnics that attacked our base-” “Here!?” She hisses. “Who’s missing?” She hadn’t considered it, hadn’t connected the dots between her son with hellfire in his eyes, a wicked shot, and the missing talented folks. “Jesse,” Her fingers tighten around her mug and on the tablet. “They took m-” Her voice cracks. “My boy?” Winston looks down, ashamed and sorry all at once. “We don’t know for sure-” “Is that why they were in my city? They were coming for him there?” She has to get help- Hanzo will not be enough. “Ms. Nolli, where are you going?” Winston calls out to her as she leaves, tugging her hat on, holding her purse close to her side. She glances over her shoulder, regrets not being able to stay for Jesse’s return. “Family business.” And as she exits, she barely hears the scientist say “I... thought McCree was family business?” - It would be a dive joint - and a crowded one at that. There’s no better place to meet a mercenary than a crowded restaurant, and one with dim lighting so while you’re visible, your business can’t be seen. Reaper looks around again. Or maybe his contact just likes the place genuinely, they’re strange enough, it wouldn’t surprise him too much. He takes a seat at a booth, waits until a server comes by and leaves before speaking aloud. “I know you’re there,” Something brushes up his calf, wiggling like toes. “Sombra.” In a shimmer, she appears on the opposite side of the table, leaning into her hands with a pout. “You’re no fun. Were you always this much of a buzzkill, Gabriel?” She pulls an image of his former self into thin air and laughs. “Of course you were,” She sends the image forward where it breaks in front of his eyes. The wraith remains astute, his featureless disguise hiding the curl of his gnarled lips. He would appreciate it if people would let Gabriel Reyes rest in peace. She ignores the threat in his silence. “You know it’s risky for you to contact me, right? Talon wants your head on a platter- this better not be some sort of booty call or I’m getting myself a promotion.” “I need a favor.” Sombra groans loudly and slides down in her seat until only her head is visible - Reaper can feel her strange footwear prodding at his side. "It's always a favor!" She gripes and begins imitating him, "Sombra, remove the ingrate's name from the botched mission on the train. Sombra, make this omnic disappear, hide these cyborg schematics. Sombra, the door ." She laughs suddenly, reveling in a playful, but false irritation. She sits up and leans in close. “Do you know how many IOU’s,” She brings up three screens, each with a bolded letter on it. They change as she taps them, “U-O-me?” The last is a winking graphic of her face. “That you never call on.” “That I’m saving!” She sounds indignant. He leans forward, tilts his head in a grin - a behavior learned from Zenyatta and Genji that he hadn’t noticed develop over time. “Then consider this three more to your collection.” Her eyes go wide. “Woah. Three, what exactly do you need from me?” She’s wary, he doesn’t blame her. “Your employer has managed to get his hands on McCree again- I need to know where they put him.” Sombra snorts. “He’s worth three? This little tidbit of information? Alright then, I can find him for you- and y’know, I’ll even give you a discount. Make it two.” “Two IOU’s it is then.” He agrees. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll give you everything you need.” “Ten?” She looks up, squinting at him. “You’re getting rusty, Sombra.” She wrinkles her nose at him, tapping away into a holo-keypad before vanishing. “Five.”

Harry didn't understand her reaction, "What, What ? I’m telling you I’ll help you help Draco. I thought you would be happy with my decision.” He gave her a half looped smile. She looked accusingly, “What have you done until now, with his case?” He shrugged, “Low priority.” This is still about a git, a bullying git. "Harry, I can't believe this! A wizard is attacked, and the Head Auror considers it a low priority? Because of the man he was in the past?" Her temperament rose several degrees, "Are you serious? Seriously, serious?" At least he has the decency to look guilty, Harry cowered slightly, “Look, Hermione, I admit it. I shouldn’t have swept it under the rug. But don’t forget that we are talking about the ferret.” He's not getting away so quickly, she looked accusingly, putting both hands on her hips, "Who's a human being, just like you and me. He bleeds and pees the same colour. How many other cases have you treated this way?" “Only his case.” Harry sighed deeply, “Alright, okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’ve said it already. But we are talking about the git. We weren’t exactly best friends…” "Harry, since when is that an excuse? You have responsibilities, Harry. Your job comes with accountabilities that you can't ignore because they were arseholes over your youth years." She kept pointing an accusing finger at him, "If everyone handles this like you did, where does it end, Harry? If a healer starts to deny treatment to a wizard because he holds a long-time grudge? What makes you better than Voldemort?" Hermione spread her arms in frustration. Harry winced at every jab, knowing all too well nothing she said was wrong. She raised both hands in the air, at face height, fingers open wide, “What am I going to do with you, Harry?” She took a deep breath, to find her peace again. “Harry, do you know something more?” “Malfoy was here this morning, telling me to keep you off his back. AND to inform me that you knew something about his attack.” He laid all his cards on the table. Hermione inclined her head, “And???” "And that's it." His admission forced Hermione to subdue the urge to hit him in the head. She gave Harry a quick overview of what she knew and suspected, summing up the names of the Death Eaters who Theo still had contact with. Harry nodded and scrunched his face upon hearing some of the names. Harry frowned, concerned, "Rookwood knew about Gibbons? I suspect this attack wasn't a spur of the moment. But a planned event to be executed the moment someone spotted Malfoy." Hermione nodded, “It may very well be, Harry. He was left to die, in such a state. To suffer while his life slipped away.” The memory came back in full force, and she felt her throat go constricted. A few moments later she rasped her throat and continued, “Have you offered him help?” He nodded, “Yes and he denied.” She flexed a fist, “He’s so obstinate. A headstrong git…” Her lips curled into a smile, “And what are we going to do, Harry?” Harry made a few decisions, “It’s time I tap decently into my contacts in the underground, and finally try to dig into the matter. I hope my informant knows more.” “And what about Ron, Harry?” He assured her, “Don’t worry about Ron. I’ll convince him to help us, based on my assumptions. I saw a different wizard. Not the arrogant teenager we knew.” Her face told him wordlessly, I told you so . "Harry, he reads to sick children, visits lonely elders. I saw him yesterday at St. Mungo's. The children call him uncle Drake, Harry. He spoke to every present child, touching them. The git we knew, was disgust from a little spit, but the man? He held hands. He stroked over the heads, kissed the cheeks. And he read to them, he sounded just like my dad. The gentle voice, changing the tone according to the story. Explaining difficult words…" “Oh Hermione, you are falling…” “No, I’m standing straight, Harry.” Hold down your horses, not so fast. “I have his mobile number.” "So do I, Harry." His eyebrows disappeared under the fringe, "Did he give you an address?" The wizard shook his head, "It's just a matter of time before I can find him." She stood up and gave him a kiss, "Harry, please do your job decently this time. I'll keep you up to date." “Hermione, and his request?” I think I know the answer, already. “I’ve heard you, Harry, and I’ve considered it. My conclusion? I find it first class bullocks.” She winked, “I have a few other partners, who are working on their end of things.” Harry didn't know if he felt curious or anxious, she was taking unnecessary risks in his opinion, "Who?" Hermione dismissed him, "Nobody you should worry about. We will help the git if he wants or not. Or my name isn't Hermione Granger." “At this rate, your name will become Hermione Malfoy.” “Not funny, Potter.” “See what I mean? He’s rubbing off on you already!” They both smirked. -oOo- "How do you find a git, who doesn't want to be found?" She tapped her lip with a finger, "It's time I called some of my fellow Muggle colleagues." Putting words into action, she spent the next half hour talking to her MI6 contact, placing a plan at work to narrow down on his location. The number gave them an idea of the surroundings, but not an exact address. They agreed on a phone call at a certain hour, to pinpoint precisely his whereabouts. But first, enjoy a well-earned dinner, it was time she turned the plates on him . -oOo- The mobile was answered at the second ring, “Granger.” “Malfoy, I missed your company last night. I had made so many arrangements.” She watched her stopwatch, they were talking for ten seconds, she needed to keep him talking for another fifty. His chuckle sounded through the earpiece, “Which arrangements precisely, Granger?” “You sound husky, are you curious, Malfoy?” “Don’t dawdle, Granger. Tell me, which arrangements? Handcuffs?” Ten more seconds… “No, no handcuffs, but you gave me an idea there. You’re into kinky…ha ha...No Malfoy, Draco.” She drawled, “I had my sexiest lingerie set…” “In which colour?” "Black, but very sheer. Like a thin veil." She spoke slowly, seductively. A message lighted up, and she glanced over with a knowing smile. Setting course to the indicated location, she kept talking. “Sheer black lingerie?” "It was more a lace nightgown, it barely covered my bum…" His heavy intakes of breath were doing weird things to her mood, "And…" He was getting as aroused as she was, “And, what Granger?” Hermione didn't answer straight away, looking up to the highest floor of a two-story modest house in a residential London neighbourhood. She was hidden by a disillusionment charm, aided by the dark of the night. The focus of her gaze was a low-lit window with its white curtains closed. Behind, the shape of a man, pacing back and forth, talking at a mobile. She was able to discern his features, from the only time he came close enough to the curtains. Her answer, rather the lack of it, was messing with his system. Happy with her confirmation, she entered the door, using a simple alohamora to unlock it. Using the same spell to enter his home and adding a muffliato to the game, she hid in a corner to watch him closely. Oh boy, was he restless now. .. “Granger?” Her silence through the mobile alarmed him, he sounded anxious. “Are you still there...Hermione?” He never stopped pacing back and forth. Was she in danger? Where was she? Her answer soothed him, “Yes.” "For a moment, I feared…" He sighed deeply, a hand ranking over his blond hair, "You haven't answered me yet, witch. And what?" She smirked, payback buddy , "And what? You mean about my lace thingy?" He froze in expectation, and her fun increased, "Oh, that...Malfoy, you could see everything," she drawled, "Of course through a black shadow." His loud grunt came from deep. What a sight he his, this worked up . His husky voice did weird things in her belly, “And did you wear anything underneath, Granger?” "A little something. It barely covered the basics, if I'm honest." Her grin couldn't be bigger, "I believe Muggles call it a thong." Her belly trembled with laughter at the sight. "You know it, I'm sure. A small fabric triangle and a cord running through its base over my…" He was leaning his head against the cold window, hand rubbing his groin. "My quim, up the crease of my arse and connecting with the waistband on the back." His hand flexed harder around his hardened member, her words hit the target entirely. I have to end this if I want to have some fun this evening, “Malfoy, see you later.” His grunted words were inaudible. She ended the call and bided her time.

You quietly wandered the almost endless area that was the Pizzaplex. It was always lonely at night, you never had anyone to play with. The only thing that was heard were your metallic footsteps, you messed about as you went to your usual spot, the gift shop. Your objective as an animatronic was pretty simple, look for kids who were left out and play with them! It was pretty fun for the most part, until whatever kid you were playing with got bored of you and went with a friend group. Your body was composed of a soft, plush material, which made you perfect for hugs! You were also small like a child. You were very approachable to the kids. Sometimes when you walked out here during the nights you wished that you could draw or paint with someone, usually you hung out with Sun whenever you or him had time. It was night time though, so you couldn't do that. Speaking of which, you weren't supposed to be out. You had your own room, which was just a mock stage room with a charging station tailor made for you. You really needed to go and charge, you would act like an overtired toddler the next day if you were below a certain charge. Your programming was a little TOO realistic. No one could figure out how you managed to get loose at night, Vanessa couldn't even figure out how you escaped through the cams. It was just that magic convenience. Being a mini Houdini at night got you to forge a friendship with Sunny's counterpart, Moon. You'd escape, he'd find you and bring you back. You'd escape again, rinse and repeat. He found it very irritating at first, but eventually he found you endearing. It was nice having someone who wasn't scared of you around, even if they were just a robo-kid. After a while you two developed a brother-sibling relationship, neither of you could really complain. It was fun talking about how your days went while Moon carried you back to your designated area. Some nights he didn't even bother taking you back if you were above a certain percentage, or if you day had gone slowly.  You had managed to get into the plushies and battery acid Fizzy Faz before you heard a voice. "Naughty child, you should be in bed.~" His tone was playful, having been used to you already. "MOONY!" You shouted eagerly as you ran up to him, jumping off the small platform you were on. He picked you up, carrying you on his hip. "What are you doing now? You know you're not supposed to get into the Fizzy Faz, you know what it does to you." "But I charge when I drink it Moony!" Moondrop looked at you with a deadpan expression. "Yes, but at what cost? We are NOT dealing with you hopped up on Fizzy Faz again. Fazbear said he didn't want a repeat of last time." You pouted, crossing your arms in defiance. "No!" "I don't have time to be dealing with this! You're at less than half of your charge!" You knew how stubborn Moondrop was, so you decided not to fight it this time. "Fine...can I please have a plushie at least?...Please?"  "Hmm..." He decided to have some fun, dragging out his answer. He knew you had a bit before you'd start getting cranky, he wasn't worried yet. His head tilted, rotating clockwise a bit, then counterclockwise. "P-Please?" You begged him with an even bigger pout, busting out the puppy dog eyes. He responded to that with a playful eye roll and a sigh. He appreciated that you had the capability to understand his way of joking. "Fine, but only ONE. After this I'll take you back to rest, you know you've already been naughty by leaving your room." You quickly snatched up a Moon plush. He was almost flattered.  Moon's upper half did a 180* as he started back on the path to your room. His lower half followed suit.  "Moony?" "Yes?" "Why do you like me?" "You're one of the few children I can tolerate causing trouble during naptime. Which is surprising. Because you're an animatronic. You cause a lot of trouble around here, it's also surprising, I didn't think anyone other than Chica and Roxy could stir up much trouble. You're very special to me, is what I'm trying to say. You're what the guests would consider...a sibling to me." You responded with a warm hug to him. You clung to him like a koala. "Aww Moony, you're like a brother to me too!!!" He smiled at you, patting your head.  The trip back was quiet for the most part, occasionally you'd point out different areas that you'd played in earlier that day, to which he would go "Oh, really?" and then ask a tiny follow up question. When you both arrived to your door, Moony slowly opened the door for you. You had been noticeably more tired (your entire body was running on an energy saver like mode, your body was much less reactive and your voice volume was much lower than usual) on the way back. Moon went off on his usual routine to put you to sleep, setting you down on your bed like charging station. It was the size of a regular charging station, just in bed form. You loved it. It even came with a Pizzaplex brand microfiber blanket and pillow (why it was so specific left everyone wondering) for you. As Moon tucked you in you held onto his blue and white hand. "Moony? I don't wanna be alone...can you stay with me?" "Y/N, you know-" "I promise to stay tonight!" "Y/N-" "And tomorrow!" "You know I can't" "Please??" He let out a groan of defeat before submitting. You weren't going to let up about this. "FINE! Ugh, let me get in." He hopped onto bed, getting himself comfortable with you as you nuzzled your tiny body into his robotic one. As he let you settle down he was surprised at your lack of energy, shutting down for the rest of the night. As rough as he liked to act, he couldn't deny that he had a soft spot for you. Eventually settling down himself, he hunkered down to contemplate his situation. Who knew that robots could build such tight-knit families? 

Hyunjin only really has patience for Seungmin. Not just because Seungmin is cute and he's his boyfriend, though that does play a part in it, but also because Seungmin isn't as extra as the others. He's mainly focusing on Felix, Chan, and Jisung. Although there are times when everyone is extra, including Hyunjin, those three are so extra, it's hard to believe there's any extraness left for anyone else. Seungmin shared his thoughts but he has a heart of gold and he easily gets sucked into being extra. At those times, Hyunjin wishes he could save him but he knows one smile from Seungmin will suck him into being extra as well. But, back to the three who are extremely extra, out of Chan, Jisung and Felix, if Hyunjin had to choose, Felix is the most extra. So that's why it was such a surprise to Hyunjin and the others that Felix was calmly standing with a screaming Jisung by his side while Chan was on the other side of Felix, jumping up and down with - Oh. Seungmin. Hyunjin guessed that he'd have to wait to get normal Seungmin back but he was okay with that. "Shut up, Jisung," Hyunjin said, glaring at Jisung.   "No," Jisung yelled, turning to give Felix a high five. However, Felix simply shook his head and moved to stand beside Hyunjin.   "I'm with Hyunjin on this one. Shut up, Jisung," Felix stated, causing the others to gasp and stare at him in shock. Hyunjin smiled a bit, throwing an arm around Felix's shoulders.   "I guess Felix is no longer extra, seems like you've been replaced, Seungminnie," Hyunjin said as Felix nodded in agreement.   "Felix, no," Chan whined, frowning at the thought of losing his fellow extra Aussie.    "Yeah, as much as we hate his extraness, we agree," Changbin said, pointing at himself, Minho, Woojin, and Jeongin. "That'll be a drastic change."   "Oh well, you'll have to get used to it," Felix replied, shrugging before he turned to Hyunjin. "Let's go somewhere else, Hyunjinnie, there's too much extraness here."   "Yep, let's go, bestie!" The others watched the two of them walk away before turning to each other.   "I feel like something is missing," Jisung said, a bit too dramatic for Minho's and Changbin's liking. Chan nodded in agreement, placing his hand over his heart.   "Guys, it's Felix, he'll be back to normal in no time. How long does he think he can actually last without being extra at least once," Changbin asked, rolling his eyes. Seungmin grinned to himself, he certainly hoped that Felix will go back to normal soon, then he'd win the bet and Felix will have to give him money. However, the answer to Changbin's question came two weeks later as Hyunjin and Felix sat on the couch, judging Chan, Jisung, Seungmin and the others for being extra and loud.    "God, Jisung, shut up," Felix said, rolling his eyes.   "Took the words right from my mouth, Lix," Hyunjin said, patting his shoulder. It has been two weeks of Felix being a completely normal person while Seungmin was being a completely extra person. Hyunjin missed him but normal Felix is a good replacement until Seungmin becomes normal again. Until then, Hyunjin will just be there, patiently waiting while hanging out with Felix. See, if Felix was being extra right now and Seungmin was by Hyunjin's side, Hyunjin would be chasing Jisung, Chan, and Felix around until they agreed to shut up. But since Seungmin is the one being extra, he sat by Felix's side, silently judging Jisung, Chan, and Seungmin.   "Dab, dab, dab," Jisung chanted and Seungmin did each time Jisung told him to while screaming. Shaking their heads, Felix and Hyunjin stood up to walk away but Changbin slid in front of them, causing them to stop. Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, pouting at Felix as he stomped his foot.    "I want my boyfriend back," he said in the cutest voice he could muster. Everyone watched Felix in anticipation, especially Seungmin. To their absolute shock, Felix only snorted and shook his head.   "That's so childish, hyung," Felix said before he walked around Changbin. Hyunjin grinned as he followed after Felix, totally surprised that Felix kept his cool just like the others were.    "Did he just," Woojin trailed off, eyes wide as he turned to Chan who's expression mirrored his. Chan nodded to answer his question even though it was rhetorical.    "I, for sure, thought that was going to break him," Seungmin said, groaning. However, after three more weeks passed, Felix was not the one to break, Seungmin was since he couldn't take it anymore. "Oh my god! I give up!" The others stared at him in confusion as he threw money at a grinning Felix. "Give me my boyfriend back! I want to be normal again!" Felix grinned as he stood up, sliding the money into his pocket.    "I told you, Seungminnie, being extra is a talent only few possess and being normal isn't that hard," Felix said, dabbing as he walked away from Hyunjin. "Oh, Binnie hyung!" Changbin grimaced as Felix came over to him. "I am so sorry for brushing off your cuteness as if it was nothing! You are the cutest human being to ever be born and walk the earth, I love you!" Felix lifted Changbin up and spun him around as he hugged him tightly.   "Aish, put me down, idiot," Changbin said, his cheeks turning a dark shade of red. Felix set him down after kissing his cheek. He then ran over to Chan and Jisung, the others sighed as they waited for the dramatic reunion they were about to witness.   "Felix? Is that really you," Chan asked, fake crying as Felix nodded and pulled him and Jisung into a strong embrace, the three of them fake sobbing and yelling about how much they missed each other. Meanwhile, Seungmin quietly walked over to Hyunjin who sat waiting for him and sat down, leaning over to kiss Hyunjin's cheek.   "Sorry for being extra and leaving you alone with Felix," Seungmin said. Hyunjin nodded his head, smiling as he grabbed Seungmin's hand, lacing their fingers together before they continued to watch Chan, Jisung, and Felix have their overly and very dramatically extra reunion that included louder fake crying and even louder screaming about Felix being gone from them for oh so long, even though it was only five weeks. The others shook their heads as they watched the three and even though they would never, ever admit it, they were extremely happy that things were finally and thankfully normal once again.

It starts with stars glittering high up above Hogwarts Castle, like always, like it had years and years ago, when James and the three people he still calls his closest friends stumbled into a boat and crossed the lake together, for the first time. It starts just like that, simply, with the stars, and with the kinetic reflection of the full moon, cast down on the black, rippling waters of the Great Lake.    An oddly chilly breeze combs through James’ hair, and he pulls his cloak closer, idly wondering if Moony remembered his potion. An ache spreads through his chest, followed closely by a pang of guilt.   He misses nights like these. He regrets them, too.    Nights like this one, nights lit by moonlight, had been filled with wild adventures. The kind of trouble only bored teenagers could manage. The kind only dangerously naive, arrogant teenagers could manage.    Maybe he misses being dangerously naive, untouched by grief, the horrors of war. Just a little bit. Not more than he regrets it, he hopes.    James fetches the Marauder’s Map from his pocket and activates it with a whispered sentence of foolish words. He scans the parchment, and loosens his shoulders when he sees everyone is where they should be. Lily, up in her office, probably slashing her dreaded red ink across a stack of essays, and their children, Prim and Evan, up in Gryffindor Tower, sleeping, hopefully.    With a small sigh, he folds up the map and puts it back. A lot of things were pinned up on hope these days.    “Thinking of going for a swim, Prongs?” asks Sirius, appearing from out of the darkness.    “After you,” says James. He turns from the lake, and watches Sirius gain on him, the sight of him a slight surprise. He isn’t supposed to be stationed at Hogwarts. Not tonight.    “His Highness has called everyone in for an emergency meeting,” explains Sirius. “And by everyone, I mean just the important people… oh, and Snivellus.”    “Lily hates that you still call him that.”    “But you don’t.”    James grimaces, and turns back towards the lake. He doesn’t hate it. He regrets it.    “Has something happened?” asks James, trying to keep the resentment bubbling up through his tone.    He loves being stationed at Hogwarts, keeping guard over his family and the students, but he can’t lie. He misses working the field, the front line, chasing down the bad guys, instead of the bad guys chasing him.    And he doesn’t like being out of loop. Not knowing everything as soon as it’s happening.    “Not much,” says Sirius. “But you know how Tom is. We haven’t seen much of our favorite assassin friend lately, and it’s making him nervous. Paranoid.”    Sirius joins him at the water’s edge, picks up a pebble from the dirt, and skips it across the lake. It slides gracefully, finally sinking when it reaches the center. James is impressed. If they still kept score, like they had when they were kids, that’d be at least a fifty pointer.    “Just cautious,” says James. “Nothing wrong with that, Padfoot.”   Especially not with the way the world is now.    The war casts a shadow even at Hogwarts, and James realizes, maybe for the first time under those stars and the full moon, that he isn’t the only one missing his spark. Hogwarts itself has gone dim.   He picks up a pebble from the ground, squeezes it tight as if making a wish, and lets it fly across the lake. It sails across the water, making just inches further than Sirius’s rock.    Sirius claps his shoulder. “You always were a show off, mate.”    James forces a chuckle, and as it dies, a faint boom shakes the ground. Something orange lights up the Forbidden Forest, eating the trees, sending up smoke.   A few seconds pass, with James and Sirius staring into distance, shocked.    “Padfoot,” says James, finally, blinking at the forest. “Are you seeing this?”   “Seeing what? The spontaneous, raging forest fire?” asks Sirius. “Not at all.”    The two share a grin before taking off, towards the flames, the way they always do when they’re both about to jump head first into something stupidly dangerous.    A small thrill, an echo of something long past, ignites in James’ chest.    * * * * * * * *    It starts with an impulse, with an unknown curse shouted and thrown backwards over his shoulder, while he runs wildly through the Department of Mysteries.    And then he isn’t.   Without explanation, without the unpleasant feeling of being pulled out of one place and placed into another, he’s in a forest. He stops running, stares. His breath is still fast, his chest heaves from sprinting, as he looks around.     He’s in the Forbidden Forest, and it’s uncomfortably hot. Something crackles, pops, behind him. He turns, green eyes growing wide as he sees the chaotic fire burning behind him.    Harry jumps just in time to dodge a tree branch engulfed with flames. He waves his wand, conjuring enchanted water, but it does nothing, just evaporates from the heat of the fire.    He tries again, and again, until he realizes running is the better option and begins ripping through the forest, his wand ready and his mind alert. His feet carry him to a clearing he’s never seen before, and by the time he gets there, he hears voices, familiar ones.    Two voices, to be exact. They’re carelessly uttering Charms, effectively killing the fire Harry had accidentally started, without much sweat.    Harry crosses that particular curse off his list of viable options. Never again. He’ll never use that one again.    With the fire out, Harry has new worries, like hiding from the voices and getting back to the Department of Mysteries. His friends are in danger. Sirius is still in trouble.    But the voices… they’re distracting him.   “-got to be around here somewhere, Prongs.”    Harry stops, straining his ears to hear their conversation over his pounding heart. Sounds like Sirius. Sounds like Sirius talking to his dad, just like back in the Pensieve, but that’s impossible.   “I didn’t see anyone on the map,” says the other voice. The one who can’t be James. “But I guess I wasn't really looking.”    “Get it back out,” says Sirius, and Harry panics.   He’s not thinking about the incredible impossibility of this situation. He isn’t thinking about anything else except his name appearing as a black dot on a map, giving up his name and location.    It’s another impulse, another flick of his wand with a curse he’s never tried before. A pop, then a louder boom, erupts from his wand, but not much else except a thin cloud of wispy, white smoke.   “Shit,” he whispers.    Upside, he’s managed to distract the imposters away from the map. Downside, he’s distracted them away from his name on a map and pulled their attention to him, his actual self.    He runs, and hears Not Sirius and Not James trailing him through the brambles and branches.    This is a trick.    An illusion.    It must be.   He’s running away from a pair of Death Eaters. Enemies disguised as loved ones. It’s the only logical conclusion.    What room in the Department of Mysteries has he stumbled into? A trap, maybe, something to keep him occupied and contained while Voldemort continues to torture Real Sirius.    A good thing about traps is that they always have a way out. Harry just needs to find one, but quickly. He searches for a door, or a tree shaped like one as if he’s a character in a story, when he trips over an overgrown root and falls onto the dirt, forest floor.    He lands funny, with his leg bent weird, and under the rest of him. It takes effort not to cry out in pain, but he manages. It doesn’t matter, though.   The imposters catch up with him anyway, and the worst part, the dangerous part, is that Harry wishes it wasn’t a trap. He wishes it was real.

Lance jerked his shoulder, trying to dislodge the hands that held him down. For all that these people claimed that they were peaceful, they sure as hell knew how to throw down. Lance may have not been the strongest of the paladins of Voltron, but even Hunk was having a tough time breaking free of the aliens’ grip on him. He was red-faced and panting, chest heaving as he tried to wrench himself free. “Hunk, this isn’t working!” Lance called, only to have the hand on his shoulder tighten to the point of pain. The alien made a strange, gurgle-like sound, one that meant nothing to Lance, but insinuated a clear threat: ‘don’t move, or you’ll get it’. What he would get, Lance wasn’t sure, but whatever it was couldn’t be good. He obeyed and went still, but only so he could look at their surroundings. They were in front of some sort of altar, shining crystal sparkling on all sides. In the middle of a pool of water was what looked like a gigantic statue of some kind of a holy figure holding its palms outward. Water gushed from the ceiling of the cave, pouring over the statue’s palms and spilling into the pool below. Right where they were taking Keith. “What are you doing with him?” Allura demanded waveringly. “Please, tell me what’s going on. I know you don’t want to fight us. I can feel it!” “Who cares about that!” Pidge shouted. “Let me go! Let all of us go! Why does this always happen to us? We go to a peaceful planet, and then people start trying to kill us!” It hadn’t started out that way. At least, not that Lance could tell. How a mission could have gone so wrong, so quickly was a mystery. They were travelling through the galaxy, trying to pinpoint a civilization of peoples that needed assistance on the outskirts of Zarkon’s territory. So far, they hadn’t found anything that wouldn’t take a large-scale plan of action to accomplish anything significant. That was when they suddenly received a distress signal. A nearby planet was hailing any nearby ships in the vicinity, and as soon as the signal came in, Allura called the paladins into the control room. “Paladins!” Allura said once the team was assembled. “We’ve just received word from a planet nearby that they need our help.” “We’re sure this is a legitimate distress call, right?” Hunk ventured. “You remember what happened last time.” Last time, it had been a trap set by Zarkon’s forces and they barely escaped intact. They all looked at Allura, who returned their gazes unflinchingly. “You are correct, Hunk,” she said. “Last time was a disaster, but we will not make the same mistake again. I had Coran look through our ships files for any information pertaining to this planet. You will be surprised to find out that we knew this planet long, long ago, many years before I was born. Coran, if you will.” She gestured to the ship’s console. Coran scrambled to obey, and soon the planetarium display had popped up. Muttering to himself, Coran swiped across the galaxy until he had reached a small, but beautiful planet. Like the Balmera, its surface was glimmering with light, its land forming intricate patterns. “Wow,” Pidge breathed. “It’s pretty.” “Yes.” Allura smiled. “It was a wondrous place, from what I can see. Before our war with Zarkon, we had many dealings with them. Their land carries rare riches and minerals, making them a target for theft, but their collective life energy somehow works as a shield for the planet. Only those they trust are allowed in. However…” Allura frowned, going quiet. “They’re being attacked,” Coran finished solemnly. “I know not how they stayed protected, but Zarkon must have finally penetrated their defenses after ten thousand years.” “Just now, after ten thousand years?” Lance asked. “Sure seems convenient now that the paladins are back together. Are we sure Zarkon isn’t behind this somehow?” “I’m certain of it,” Allura replied. “I can feel it. Their energy, it….it calls to me. Something about it is telling me we must go. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, and it’s not something Zarkon is capable of.” “What kind of feeling is it?” Shiro asked. “It’s so difficult to describe. It’s….warm.” She touched the center of her chest, smiling. “Kind. Something good will come of this; I feel it.” “I don’t know if I trust this,” Hunk whispered loudly. Allura glared at Hunk, gearing up with a scathing retort, but Shiro stepped forward, hands raised. “We trust you, princess.” He bowed his head. “If you think this is what we should do, then we’re right behind you.” Allura’s expression softened in the face of Shiro’s confidence. “Thank you, Shiro. Diplomacy is an important part of being a paladin of Voltron. Suit up and meet Coran in the training room as soon as you can. He’ll brief you on the customs of the people of this planet: the planet Novaria.” She nodded, dismissing them, and they scattered. Pidge and Keith immediately headed for their suits, but Lance hung back, staring at the still open display. Hunk was doing the same thing, observing the small orb up close. “Hey, Hunk?” Lance started, walking up alongside him. “Does something feel…weird about this?” “Weird?” He looked at Lance. “Not really. Is your gut telling you something’s off?” “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Lance stepped closer, peering directly at the planet. The closer he got, the weirder he felt. And the strangest part was that it wasn’t necessary a bad feeling, just weird. “Well until you figure that you, I guess we should suit up,” Hunk said unconvincingly. “Another space trip that will hopefully end in peace and harmony.” “Yeah.” Lance stepped back, giving the planet one last look before he turned around. “We should. Let’s move out.” They walked to the training room together, clad in their gear and bayards. Pidge and Keith were already there, but Coran and Shiro hadn’t shown up yet, leaving the four of them to mingle. “’Sup, Pidge,” Lance called, stepping into the room. He glanced at Keith, his lips curling a little. “Keith.” They weren’t mortal enemies any longer, but Keith wasn’t exactly his best friend. Now that they’d gotten to know each other a little, Lance could admit that Keith was a good pilot, a good fighter, and maybe—just maybe—a good friend, but he wasn’t about to tell him that. “Lance,” Keith greeted, eyes flicking up at him briefly. He was studying his bayard, brow furrowed in concentration. Lance and Hunk settled down in front of them, following Keith’s example and pulling out their bayards for inspection. “So,” Keith started, “does something about this whole thing feel kind of…off?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Pidge. She was busy typing something on her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. The light glinted off of her glasses when she glanced up at the three of them. “I’m trying to scan the planet—just to make sure what Allura said is true—and everything seems to check out. There’s some sort of forcefield jamming my signals, but I’m not able to trace it. It’s probably coming from the Novarians.” “Okay, but that doesn’t mean something’s not weird about this,” Hunk argued. “How do we know we can trust them?” “We don’t,” Lance said. “But we do have to follow Allura’s orders.” “You think she’s wrong about this?” Keith looked up at Lance, his eyebrow raised. Lance opened his mouth to defend himself when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder. “The princess knows what’s best,” came Shiro’s voice from behind them. “If she says we’re going down there, then we’re going down there. They need our help. It would be good if you three could remember that.” An awkward, guilty silence fell over the trio, broken only by the sound of Pidge’s frantic typing. Keith was the first to speak. “Sorry, Shiro,” he said, sounding sincere. “It’s just—” At Shiro’s pointed look, Hunk stopped. “Nevermind. Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.” “See that you are.” Shiro nodded, lips lifting into a smile. “I understand you’re all concerned, but this is nothing we can’t handle.” Somehow, that wasn’t comforting. By the time Coran entered the room, they were all seated in a circle, waiting patiently for his tutelage. “Ready, paladins?” he chirped, wiggling a pad with a bunch of what looked like gibberish on it. “I have the communications from our Novarian friends right here. It appears that they don’t speak any form of English or Altean—or anything at all, really—but the signal was coded to indicate that they need immediate assistance.” “What kind of help?” Pidge asked. “Do you think it’s Zarkon?” “Should we take the ship into orbit?” Shiro added. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Coran replied. He poked the screen, bringing up another display. “Don’t you worry; leave that to Allura and myself. For now, it’s time to learn about the Novarian customs!” Lance groaned. Why did he have a feeling this was going to be boring? Coran went on for about half an hour on the greetings alone. Apparently when he said that they made use of the mind, he meant that the people of Novaria didn’t speak from any type of orifice, relying on touch to communicate ideas. Lance tried to imagine one of them hugging a communication panel and had to stop himself from snickering. Hunk shot him a reproachful look. “Imagine someone probing your brain,” Coran explained. “Your thoughts, your memories; all of it open for the world to see. It’s just like that!” “Great,” Keith drawled. “I love having my brain probed. Can we say no to this whole greeting thing?” “I’m afraid not, Keith.” Coran twirled his mustache. “As much as I’d like to allow you to escape with your mind untouched, it would be terribly rude to the Novarians. You shouldn’t have to worry, though! I’m certain they won’t care about anything holed up in there.” This time Lance did snicker. Loudly. Keith shot him a dirty look. “I’m not so sure about this either.” Hunk shuddered. “Anything involving aliens touching my brain makes me nervous. What if they, like, take over our minds? What then?!” “That won’t happen,” Shiro said. “We can’t be afraid to try new things. Not everyone in the universe will act like we do. We’d better get used to it.” “Easy for you to say,” Lance grumbled, leaning his back against Hunk. He didn’t like the thought of his mind being invaded. What if they started broadcasting it to everyone around them? What if Keith heard his thoughts? Lance pushed the thought out of his mind; thinking about it made his skin crawl. Pidge sighed. “Can we move on? We have a distress signal to answer, don’t we?”   “Righto.” Coran coughed. “So, after greetings, we have general etiquette…” After learning the basics of Nova customs, they were just shy of reaching the planet, which left them with just enough time to get to their lions and be ready for whatever awaited them. Allura was at the helm, dressed for battle and approaching the planet with care. When they reached the outskirts, it was obvious that the distress signal wasn’t in vain; there was a small hole where Zarkon’s forces were streaming into the planet. “Paladins, be careful,” Allura warned them. “Try to avoid causing any damage to the planet’s surface.” “Got it,” Lance said, swinging his lion around to the front of the pack. “Ready to kick some Zarkon butt?” “We’re not going in guns blazing,” Shiro admonished. “We should be careful. Hunk, you’re up front. Keith, you’re with me. Lance and Pidge will hold up our rear and fire if necessary.” The forces had only just arrived, which meant that they didn’t even need to form Voltron to take them down. Hunk held up the front, using his defense as a barrier while the other slipped around him and wreaked havoc. When it appeared that the enemy was ill-prepared to face the sudden appearance of the legendary Voltron, Hunk, Shiro, and Lance took off to destroy the largest of the ships while Keith and Pidge attacked the transportation vessels. It was an easy win, and after everything that had happened in the last few weeks, Lance should have been overjoyed. So why did he feel like he was missing something? The closer they got to the planet, the more he felt like something was pulling him in, encouraging him to do something, to go somewhere. He couldn’t tell what it was, but the feeling in his gut was similar to…anticipation. Lance warily followed the rest of the paladins down onto the planet, taking care not to crush any of the civilians as they descended to the surface and stepped out of their lions. The people on Novaria weren’t exactly what they were expecting. For one, they seemed to be made of some kind of energy. Whatever it was, it made them glow, as if their bodies could barely contain the light held within. They were vaguely human-shaped, and they towered over their visitors by at least a few feet. The funny thing was, even though they were blindingly bright, it didn’t hurt to look at them. The light was beautiful; welcoming, even, much like the rest of the planet. The planet’s surface was covered in stark white foliage, with huge pillars of what looked like glass erupting from the ground. The Novarians had taken advantage of this, building their civilization around the beauty and splendor, erecting towering buildings that punctured the sky high above the clouds. “Whoa,” Keith breathed beside him. “It’s beautiful here.” “Yeah.” Lance shot a glance at Keith, watching the wonderment play across his face. “It is.” A cursory look around informed him that while they’d been admiring the planet’s beauty, Allura was already chatting away with the tallest of the Novarians, its hands clutched tightly between hers. “Thank you for welcoming us,” she said. “I am princess Allura of Altea, and these are the paladins of Voltron. You may not remember us, but long ago—oh?” She narrowed her eyes, concentrating. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand,” she said slowly. “Can you repeat that?” “What is it, princess?” Coran leaned forward, hesitating over their joined hands. “Perhaps I might be able to help.” Another separate Novarian citizen took Coran by the shoulder and lowered its head until their foreheads were pressed together. “Oh.” Coran went stiff. “That’s—oh, that’s very strange. You’re in my head now, I see.” One of the Novarians approached Lance and Keith, extending a hand—or what looked like a cross between a mitten and a hand—for them to take. “Ooh, I think it likes us,” Lance purred. “You go first, Keith.” “Why don’t you go first?” Keith and Lance shared a glare, challenging each other to be the first to take the bait. Lance was the first to give. “Fine, I will!” He didn’t want to be rude, after all, so he took the Novarian’s hand in his own, braced for impact. “I hope this alien is ready to dive into the greatest mind it’s ever seen.” “Whatever.” Keith rolled his eyes and stepped back to watch. It wasn’t like anything Lance expected. It was warm. He felt the Novarian’s mind connect with his own, a wave of that same warmth encompassing his entire being. His body started to tingle from his head to his toes. Then he felt it; it was like there was something that didn’t belong inside him, pushing gently, inexorably, and Lance was powerless to resist. It entered his mind, searching through his memories and thoughts and feelings. Images that Lance couldn’t understand flashed inside his head, telling a story that didn’t make any sense. “That kinda tickles, but in my brain.” The Novarian went deeper, tugging at his childhood, pulling apart the times he fell and hurt himself; it picked through his time at the academy, watching the back of Keith’s head, always, always watching. Fast forward years, and they were in space; there was Keith, smiling at him, laughing with him. The images were coming faster now. He saw a pool of water, glittering, and water cascaded over him, in his mouth, his throat, filling him with something unrecognizable. Something like want. It retreated from his and went back to his time at the academy, hesitating, hovering over the memories. Then they shifted, turning to the rest of the crew. They saw Pidge, Shiro, Coran, and Allura. At Hunk’s wide, bright-eyed smile, it stilled, and then buried its claws in Lance’s mind, searching for something, looking for— “No!” Lance shouted, snatching his hand out of the alien’s grasp. He opened his eyes, which had previously been held shut, and paled in realizing what he’d done. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let go, but I…that was…” His heart was hammering in his chest. His head felt fuzzy, his breathing short. “What are you doing?!” Keith hissed, watching the alien warily. It swayed, emitting a strange humming sound. Then it turned to Keith. “I think, I think it wants you now,” Lance muttered, still out of sorts. The experience had been uncomfortable, but at the same time, he felt bereft, like something was missing. Like a piece of something important had been taken, lying just out reach. “Yeah, thanks for that.” Keith sighed, and then offered his hand for the Novarian to take. It did so gingerly, covering Keith’s palm with its own. Keith gasped, his whole body going rigid. Lance eyed him uneasily. Did I look that stupid? He didn’t have a chance to find out. After a few seconds of connecting with Keith, the being suddenly snatched its hand away from him, humming something unintelligible. Then it gurgled, waving its arms at its comrades to gather their attention. “What’s happening?” Lance muttered, watching as the Novarians turned their heads and started coming their way. Soon, half of the population was gathering around Keith, chittering and humming and gurgling. The Novarian alongside Allura lifted its head and emitted a booming sound, and the others suddenly ceased. Lance looked at Keith. “What was that?” “I—I don’t know. It was looking through my mind one second, then the next, it was gone.” What Keith said puzzled Lance, but before he could inquire further, one of the Novarians approached him. Keith reached out to offer his mind, but instead they took hold of his arms instead and started hauling him away. “Wait, what’s going on?” Keith jerked weakly in their grip, hesitant to struggle, but still unnerved by what was happening. “What are you doing?” Having noticed the commotion, Allura started to push her way through the crowd, reaching out towards Keith. “Excuse me, but where are you taking him?” They received no answer, and one of the Novarians took Allura by the arm, restraining her from reaching Keith. Alarmed by the sudden turn of events, the rest of the paladins whipped out their bayards, training them on the Novarians. Allura held up her free hand. “Don’t!” she shouted. “Don’t hurt them! We don’t know what’s happening, but we mustn’t resort to violence. Just—if I could speak with your leader again, please!” Meanwhile, Lance hadn’t moved an inch. It was like his brain was filled with molasses, his thoughts processing too slowly for his body to follow. Hunk came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, tugging him forward. “What happened over here?” he asked, concerned. “Did Keith do something to them?” Lance shook his head, mind starting to clear. There was something he was supposed to be doing. Someone he was saving. Who was it? Right. Keith. “What are we supposed to do? Just sit here while they take him away?” Pidge waved her bayard at the nearest exiting Novarians. “We have no idea if they’re about to eat his brains, or—or worse!” Holy crow, Keith was kidnapped! What was he doing just standing here? “Keith! We have to save Keith!” He shot forward, ignoring Coran’s enraged shout and lunged at the nearest Novarian, bayard at the ready. These aliens moved pretty slowly, so Lance was expecting an easy fight, which was why he was shocked when the Novarian’s hand shot out like lightning and wrapped around Lance’s wrist, sending his bayard clattering to the ground. As if a switch had been pulled, the Novarians turned and grabbed the remaining paladins and Coran, pulling them in the same direction that Keith had been taken. “What the hell is going on?” Shiro snapped, apparently finished playing the responsible adult. “I thought things were going well. Why are they attacking us?” “They aren’t trying to hurt us. Don’t worry: I’m trying to find out,” Allura grit out. Her arms were being restrained by two Novarians, but she made no more attempts to get free. “They’re blocking me somehow! I’m getting images—flashes. Something about a pool and a mind.” Her brow was knit with concentration, sweat beading down her neck. “I see Lance and Keith. I—I can’t make it out.” “Lance! What did you do?” Pidge squirmed, pointing her foot accusingly in Lance’s direction. “I didn’t do anything!” he cried. “Okay, maybe one of the Novarians got kind of brain-handsy with me and started digging around in my memories, so I pulled out of our mind meld. So what?” “Maybe you insulted him,” Hunk guessed. “But they didn’t start going crazy until they got to Keith! If anything, it’s his fault.” Hunk opened his mouth to answer, but his attention was stolen by their arrival at the edge of a large cave. Glittering crystals lined every inch of the walls, sending light dancing along the crystals in a dazzling display. Even though they were effectively in a hostage situation, Lance couldn’t help but gape. “I’ve got something,” Allura gasped. Her hair was damp with sweat, her limbs trembling in the Novarians’ grip. “Princess, don’t strain yourself!” “I’m fine,” she snapped. “Trying to force our minds together is difficult, but I can handle it. I learned that there’s a ritual that’s going to happen. And Keith is going to take part in it.” “Uh oh.” Hunk swallowed, glancing at the front of the pack. “Rituals are never a good sign.” As if on cue, the Novarians got louder, their voices echoing off of the walls. Keith could still be heard shouting at the front of the pack, crying out for help. The sound was grating, setting Lance’s nerves on edge. He never wanted to hear that sound come out of Keith’s mouth again. “Let me go! Whatever you’re doing, it needs to stop! Keith! Keith!” he shouted. There was an answering shout, but it was fading fast. He was getting farther away. Lance wracked his brain for any sort of plan, but his mind was suspiciously blank. How had things gone so wrong? It was after they went into Keith’s mind that they started going crazy. What if what they saw there made them want to take over his brain, like Hunk had ludicrously suggested just hours ago? Think, Lance, think. What could they want with Keith? Aside from his looks and combat skills, Lance couldn’t imagine anything the Novarians might want with a human. While he was trying to concoct a plan, they had arrived at a large cavern, which brought them back to the present situation. Keith was in trouble, and Lance was completely and totally useless. The Novarians had lined them up in front of the altar, their hands held aloft. The rest of the Novarians that weren’t occupied with their guests were starting to disperse, forming a tight ring around the walls of the cave. In the center was Keith, still pulling at the leader’s hold as it dragged him forward. “Let me go!“ He let out an enraged shout, kicking his legs wildly. The Novarian leader remained unfazed, dragging him near the center of the pool of pouring water. “I’m guessing nobody has a plan,” Pidge added helpfully, her glasses slipping messily down her nose as she tugged at the hands binding her. “Of course not! I can’t even move,” Hunk groaned. “These guys are too strong. Isn’t there a way we can call our lions?” “I don’t know!” Shiro craned his neck to look at the way they’d come. “They usually just come when we’re in trouble.” “Maybe we’re really not in trouble,” Pidge suggested, sounding like she didn’t believe it. “I don’t know.” Shiro frowned. “This isn’t looking good. If they don’t want to hurt us, why can’t they just explain what’s happening?” They didn’t have time to find out. As Keith was held up by the Novarian leader, the humming grew even louder, echoing in the cave, along the walls, in their heads. In Lance’s head. “Keith! Let me go, you—” Lance managed to wrench his arm from the Novarian’s grasp and fell forward, fingers scraping the ground for purchase. The sounds grew louder, scraping at the walls of his mind, and he knew without a doubt that something was about to happen to Keith. Icy cold fear washed over him, and he felt it when they plunged Keith into the freezing water. “Keith! Keith! Keith!” His head ached. It felt like someone had plunged their hand into his chest and given his heart a good squeeze. His vision swam, eyes trying and failing to lock onto Keith as he was forced mercilessly back into the freezing cold water. It felt like he was being branded, like his skin was melting off, exposing bone and blood and pain, so much pain. He screamed, mouth forming Keith’s name, and then there was nothing. Lance was spinning. He couldn’t see, could barely hear his panicked breathes over the dull roaring in his ears. He was spinning, and he kept spinning, floating through—space? He couldn’t tell where he was. Lights were flashing in front of his eyes, so fast that he couldn’t make out what was going on. He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Where am I? What happened? The memories were fuzzy, slipping away. He couldn’t think properly; his thoughts were muddled, broken into bits and pieces. His eyes fluttered open and he saw a flash of red, and an endless, endless light. He closed them again, trying not to panic, remembering to breathe. What was I doing? I was rescuing someone. A friend? A friend? Who? Someone, someone important. It was… Keith! Light exploded behind his eyes at the revelation. He squeezed them shut, trying to block it out, to block everything out. There were voices sounding in the background, calling out, but before he could reach out a grasp them, the voices faded. Something cool rushed over him, filling his mouth and nose and lungs. He coughed and coughed, choking and spitting until he felt like he was able to breathe again. His head hurt. His neck hurt. Everything hurt. Lance felt like his body had been ripped apart and then put back together. “…nce.” “…..ance!” “No,” he groaned, his head throbbing as the voices grew louder. “No, don’t. Leave me alone. I can’t, I need—“ He didn’t know what he needed. But it was something important, he was sure of it. The voices faded. He was alone. A hand landed on his shoulder, and for a brief moment, the pain eased, simmering in the back of his mind where it was easier to bear. Then the hand left, and the pain returned. Lance buried his face in his arms, destitute. At this rate, he’d be in pain forever. He’d never find what he needed! Someone shoved a warm body against his side, and something in his brain clicked. Relief flooded him, engulfing the pain and sending it away. He turned without opening his eyes, knowing that this was it; this was what he’d been looking for. This was what he needed. He wrapped his arms around the warmth, burying his nose in something soft. A whiff of a familiar scent gave him pause, but he was too exhausted to investigate it further. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.   Lance woke up with his face shoved in something fuzzy and dark. The pain from before was thankfully nowhere to be found, and his head felt clear, alert. He felt heavy. Warm. Something—scratch that, someone was leaning against his chest, breath tickling his skin. Lance frowned, trying to remember when something like that could have happened. Did they get drunk? The last thing he remembered was being on Novaria, and then— Keith! His eyes snapped open, and he was immediately greeted by the sight of Keith’s sleeping face. It took Lance a few seconds for his brain to catch up with the unexpected turn of events. “What the hell!” Lance screeched, recoiling. Heat flooding his cheeks. He’d been cuddling Keith. “Why is Keith in my bed?” “Ah. Good, you’re awake.” Allura said from the doorway, drawing Lance’s attention. “We were worried you might be out for longer than expected. I’m relieved that isn’t the case.” “Allura, what are you doing here?” Lance took a deep breath. “Am I crazy, or am I missing something?” “What do you recall?” Allura asked, gently. “Do you remember Novaria, and Keith’s, er, capture?” “Yeah, I remember that.” Lance frowned at his lap. “I remember yelling, trying to reach Keith, and then…nothing.” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories. “What happened? How did we get here? And more importantly, why am I in bed with Keith?” “Ah.” Allura pursed her lips. Lance had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “It turns out the ritual that they performed on Keith had a….binding quality to it.”

AN: La-gasp! Another chapter!? Still waiting on those spiders and thank you few for the orcas. Chapter 16 - Only Fate A Segway Between Life and Death "Do you ever wonder?" the Death with the sexy hips asked the Death who was pacing the metaphorical space between universes. "Wonder what?" he snapped, pacing faster. "If it were possible to destroy a timeline?" Death with a worry of wizards halted, he turned around slowly, metaphorically speaking, "What?" She tapped her foot against her scythe, "I just… have this feeling. I feel like, I feel like I have forgotten something, in fact, many things… I keep checking my books… and…" "And what?" he demanded. The Death with a titillation of mutants smiled, "The books are blank. I've seen them be rewritten, repeatedly, I've seen them change, I've changed them, but never before have they gone blank. They are slowly…" Her voice trailed off. "Slowly what?" Death with a preoccupation with divided souls demanded. "What?" she asked, looking up, metaphorically speaking. He made a harsh sound, "Your books are slowly, what?" "My books?" "Your books," he growled."What's wrong with your books?" "Nothing," she said, offended, "Why? What do you know?" "You just said- You know what, never mind. How could you dump two more of your people in my world? Wasn't it bad enough you brought those two Aurors back? That pest who is so afraid of death is on the brink of finding true immortality! And it is your fault!" "Oh please, you showed the two redheads their son's would be life. They will figure it out," she said offhandedly, then more sharply, asked, "Wait, what two?" "The Boy Who Lived's parents!" Death with the greater sense of continuity roared. "No, no, what two from my world? I only brought over the Lady Spider." "Yes, you brought the little princess after she died, but now there are also the Man Spider and the little would be tigress." Death with the overlarge slicing object stared at him blankly, "What?" Death of the more fantastical magic waved his hand, an image appearing before them of Peter Parker and MJ asleep on the couch, "Them!" She frowned at them, "No, no, they aren't… they are too old, they haven't died yet. He isn't even a-, they-" A book appeared in her long digited hand. She opened to the correct chapter. Blank. Then flipped to the approximate age of the boy. Blank. She flipped to the end of Peter Parker's book. "Fuck," said the Death who knew all too well what the Infinity Stones were capable of. The Death whose butt cheeks had been clenched tight ever since they broke the laws of Life and Death so dramatically, leaned over her shoulder, avoiding her scythe to peer at the page, then laughed. "This isn't funny! We were played!" Death whose sense of rightness had corrected itself, chortled into the space between, metaphorically speaking, that is. Saturday seemed to come quickly that week. Harry much preferred having the addition of MJ, even if she was a bit withdrawn, he felt less like a misfit with her around. Unlike him, who played it cool and pretended to be sociable even though he didn't overly enjoy socializing, MJ was cool and didn't pretend to be anything then what she was. If people gave her shit, she either didn't acknowledge their existence or had them tied up in their own words with the effort of someone folding a napkin. But Saturday he didn't have the buffer of MJ to deal with his parents. People he was beginning to truly like, and yet… And yet he found himself dragging his feet, walking back with Padma and Hermione to the dorm rather than the room Lily was waiting to start his potions lesson with. "Are you even paying attention?" Hermione snapped. He gave her a look. "He's thinking about his mum and dad," Padma supplied. "How's that going by the way?" He shrugged, "Fine." "Fine," she mocked, "right, that sounded sooo believable." He raised a brow, "Are you calling me a liar?" "Ha," she said, raising her chin, "You lie like you breathe." He put his hand to his heart, leaning back against the railing at the platform of one of the moving staircases. "Padma," he said dramatically, he placed a hand on the rail as if catching his balance against a blow, "You wound me." Then he flipped himself backward over the railing. Padma screamed. Several other students screamed. Harry stuck the landing, coming to his feet in a swirl of robes. Padma was leaning over the railing to see him, her expression morphing from fear to rage in a heartbeat. It had only been one flight. She swore at him in Hindi, something that had her twin, Parvati, exclaiming, "Padma!" from an upper level. But Harry laughed and blew her a kiss, and went to go see his birth mother wearing a self-satisfied smirk. He was pretty sure Padma would get him back for that. He found that he was rather looking forward to it. Lily was pretty sure they had it. "Happy thoughts?" Harry asked, "Like Peter Pan?" Lily grinned at him, "Just so." James cast the spell wordlessly, his doe prancing merrily around the hopping gracefully, then less gracelessly kicking its back feet into the air. Lily spoke the Charm for Natasha's and Harry's sake, her stag charging down the doe that darted up, then circled around them. "Okay," Harry said, "that's cool, not very stealthy, but very cool." Harry raised turned his wrist, his bracelet transforming into an intricately carved staff with metal inlay, that was longer than he was tall. It was an impressive weapon, though, she added mentally, not a stealth object. He waited, and it took Lily a moment to realize that he was waiting for Natasha to try first. His respect for her evident in almost all that he did. Merlin, Lily hated being jealous of the other woman. She wanted to forget she existed. But when she glanced at James who teasingly wagged his eyebrows at her, she blushed. It took Natasha two tries, and where Lily had expected to see a spider, what appeared in silver blue was nothing so small. A large Siberian tiger roared out of her wand, then playfully chased around the two deer patronuses. Natasha's smile was breathtaking, "My favourite animal." Harry huffed a laugh, "Also my favourite toy plushie when I was little." She grinned at him, "You cried yourself to sleep that night one of the Death Eaters blasted a hole through it. I had to take you back to Russia and track down the company, which turned out to be a little shop owner in a small town, hours outside of St. Petersburg, who had a vender's cart during the holidays, to get you one that was; тот самый." She made Russian sound sexy, damn her, Lily noted. Harry grinned and teased back in a stream of Russian that sounded oddly beautiful, almost as beautiful of the sound of his laughter at Natasha's presumably witty comeback. And with that laughter still on his lip, he twirled his staff like he had wielded such a thing all his life, and maybe he had. An elegant crane spread large wings, gliding elegantly around the deer and the tiger. "A crane," James said with a smile, because how could you not smile at a fourteen year old performing such a spell so effortlessly with a creature whose natural elegance was further enhanced with magic. "A Siberian Crane," Harry corrected, "My favourite animal, they're endangered in Russia. Mum and I created a foundation for them and got them listed as protected animals." "That's wonderful," Lily said, meaning it, even if her heart still hurt at yet another thing she had missed in her son's life. "So what's next on the agenda?" he asked, not in the least fazed by learning one of the most difficult spells in there world. James coughed, "Well, we had a request." Natasha narrowed her eyes, "What?" And Lily liked her a bit better for her protectiveness, or maybe that was just because she knew what they might be facing. "Natasha, you know the dream we shared?" "Yes?" she asked, warning in her tone. "We think we know where the snake is." "Wait, you shared a dream, and what about a snake?" Harry asked. Lily looked at him and wondered how he would take this, "We had a dream about you slaying a giant serpent." Harry blinked at her and his response was not what she had expected, "But I like snakes." Before she could respond, Natasha said in a perfectly reasonable tone without the slightest indication she would change her mind on the subject, "He won't be doing that again." "He won't need to," James said, "I just need to transfigure some roosters and light to make them squawk, then bam, dead Basilisk." "I'm completely lost," Harry said. "We just need to take a tour down the second floor," James answered pleasantly. "Why?" he asked, sounding a suspicious as Natasha. "Why, to talk to a ghost, of course." Harry could tell Mom was unhappy, and his parents were not doing much better. But it appeared the three adults had at least one thing in common: curiosity. Moaning Myrtle, as he was informed people called her, was a wailing ghost who appeared to spend a great deal of time in a toilet. When his dad asked her how she had died, she moaned with delight which creeped Harry out more than the Bloody Baron ever had. "I saw something come out of there," she pointed to the sinks, then said almost gleefully, "And then I diiiieed." Harry wanted away from this strange phantom who was eyeing him up hungerly. He wondered if you could kill ghosts, maybe exorcism? The four of them searched the sinks and he was the one to find the tiny snake image. "Salazar Slytherin had a thing for snakes, huh?" he asked. "He could talk to them," his dad said distastefully. Harry looked at him, "I mean, so can I, but I don't go around marking my turf with snake insignias everywhere." His mouth dropped open along with Lily's, they asked in unison, "You can talk to snakes?" Mom put her hands on her hips, "Is there a problem?" The Aurors exchanged looks, and his dad recovered first, "No, it's just extremely rare in our world." "How rare?" he asked. "As in, there is only one person known in our history who was born with that magical gift not connected to Salazar Slytherin's line." Which gave Harry an idea, and he hissed at the little snake on the sink, "Open." He stepped back as the sinks moved. "Nifty," Mom said. Harry chuckled, both at his mom and his parents who were slightly wide eyed at the new information revealed to them. "How are we going to scope out what's done there?" Mom asked. Lily stepped forward and was sliding down into the darkness before anyone could stop her. Mom sighed, "So that's where you get it from." A moment later, Lily called up, "Clear." James was next, but before Harry could follow, Natasha tied a blindfold around his face. "You think it's awake?" he asked, not protesting after what the Potters had explained to them about the 'big snake.' "I think you can practice walking in darkness." And they slid down the slide together. He felt what most have been the small bones of rats crunch beneath his boots. Having practised fighting in the dark, and fighting with the blindfold before. He was able to follow his mother's footsteps, which she deliberately let fall audibly against the stone floor, scuffing her foot against any lips of elevation or loose stones. "How are you walking without holding onto anything?" Lily asked. Harry smiled, but didn't turn to face her, keeping his focus on Mom's movements. "Training," he answered. "What kind of training?" James asked. "The kind that has kept him alive," Mom said smoothly, "Harry, there's a door with stone snakes." He walked to her side, and hissed, "Open." He heard his dad mutter, "That's somehow less menacing." "Less menacing than what?" Harry asked as the door creaked open. "Our accents," Mom said in Russian. Harry rolled his eyes under the blindfold. "And people say Godric had an ego problem." "What do you mean?" Harry asked, fighting the impulse to rip off his blindfold. "Giant statues of Slytherin everywhere," Mom supplied. "No, snake?" he asked, not really liking the idea of killing it, but then he supposed anything that could be killed with a rooster squawk was not exactly a naturally born creature. No one said anything. "Now what?" Harry asked after a time. "There must be another chamber," Lily said, "Or else it would have kept travelling throughout the pipes." Harry began hissing out greetings. And after a time, he heard something, he pointed toward the sound, "There." "Master?" a deep, base hiss, thrummed through the walls, "Master, have you returned for me?" "How do I free you?" Harry hissed back. "Don't you remember?" It asked, sounding equal parts confused and suspicious. Well, sound, wasn't the right word, it was more a sense, because this thing sounded like no serpent Harry had ever heard before. "Remind me. I am your Master, but the years are long and my memory is not what it once was," He lied. "Master! Master!" It cried, the earth below their feet trembled as it seemed to shift its great form and throw itself at the wall keeping it trapped. It began ranting, raving, crying words of ritualistic nature, claiming to be the Heir of Salazar. Which is when Harry realized it was speaking the words that would release it, and he suddenly didn't feel so bad for being a part of this thing's death. It was mad, it was starving, and it was imprisoned in a state that seemed to Harry to be far worse than death. Harry motioned with his hand. Mom led him back against a wall, and presumably warned the Potters, his dad ready with the birds. He hissed the magic words, the snake cried, "Master!" Harry's heart broke as he listened to its scales and muscles slide against the stones, filling the echoing chamber, the first rooster crooked. And the Basilisk screamed, a wail of death, its last word, "Master!" Was a scream of betrayal. Harry had killed people before, but this was the first time he had sought someone out to kill them, proactive or no. He suddenly got what Mom had been attempting to explain to him. But when he removed his blindfold and saw what had been set to hunt children in a school, he decided that he had made the right choice. They all went out for dinner and Hogsmeade to celebrate, Natasha said she needed to stop at her apartment first. Her apartment who's windows lit up with an explosion of light, shortly followed by one being thrown open to let out a plume of smoke. "Right, stay here," Natasha said, disapparating with a pop. "She has a roommate?" James asked his son, explosions not being all that uncommon in their world. "Um, well, sort of," Harry answered as Natasha apparated back with two figures to either side of her. Both had hair as wild as his and Harry's, though not genetically, more from having something blown up near them in a small space. "Dad, Lily, this is Michelle Jones and Peter Parker," Harry introduced. "MJ, Peter, these are my birth parents, James and Lily Potter. They're wizard cops." The lanky girl pulled her hair back, looking irked as Natasha passed her a hair tie. Peter, who looked absolutely nothing like Pettigrew, with a physique under his tight muggle clothes that would have done an Olympic athlete proud, said, "Hi." Then turned to Natasha, "I'm sorry." "It wasn't toxic gas," was all she said as if to say that the rest was fine. "Peter," the girl said in a low voice, "If you don't warn me about future hair destroying experiments I'm going to turn you into a toad." He blinked at her, "Can you do that?" He looked at the rest of them, "You guys can't really do that? Can you? Mr. Strange couldn't." Natasha smiled, "Oh, our magic can definitely accomplish it, eventually." Harry smiled at him, "Dad could probably do it now, couldn't you?" James smiled a little uncertainly, "A toad, hmm, yes, I could, but where's the fun in that? I am partial to turning people into a platypus or even a whale, if I'm feeling particular." Peter paled, his eyes going wide as he stared at the people around him. Natasha patted him on the back, "I think it would be best if you treat all spells as things to be avoided." He gulped, "Noted." And James noted that both were Americans not Russians. "So," Lily said, searching for a polite way to ask, then came out with it, seeing as neither child had the same surname nor seemed to be related in any outward way. Peter seemed to be a muggle if his apprehension to magic was anything to go by. "You're staying with Natasha?" "Ms. Romanoff saved us," Peter said, "were, um…" "Harry's step-sister and brother," Michelle said blandly. Harry grinned at her like it was something they had recently agreed on. Lily turned on Natasha, "How did you not mention having other children?" "It's kind of recent," Peter supplied helpfully, "Course, I'm not magic so Ms. Romanoff is homeschooling me while MJ goes to Hogwarts." Lily blinked at him, "How recent and what happened to you parents are?" she left it open ended. "Dead," he said. "Who the hell cares, Black Widow's our guardian, can we go get food now?" MJ asked, clearly not liking the way Lily was scrutinizing them. "Black Widow?" James asked, he had known Natasha was a widow, but that sounded like a title or code name. "Let's eat," Natasha said with a smile directing them all toward the inn. They all troped toward the promise of food as Harry began to tell Peter about the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk, MJ listening with a disinterested expression. But her question was pretty cutting, "So you're saying that the founder of my house didn't just not like people whose parents were non-magical but actively wanted to feed children to giant snakes? That's swell." It was said so blandly, James couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "Her parents were not magical and she was sorted into Slytherin," Natasha filled in as she, he, and Lily trailed behind the younger ones a bit. "Are their guardians really gone or did you kidnap them too?" Lily said in a low voice, but the girl heard her. She spun on her heel and walked backwards with a hand on Peter's shoulder to keep her balance. "Not that you deserve to know, but as your Harry's family, I'll say this, Peter is an orphan but his Aunt May isn't dead and neither is my family, but Natasha wasn't the one to kidnap us." Lily glared at Natasha, "What, just like Death gave you Harry?" "Actually," Peter said over his shoulder, "It wasn't Death, it was a stone, not really a stone, but a liquid, magical thingy that acted on its own and dropped us here. Now MJ's a witch and I'm, well still me, but that's not the point. Ms. Romanoff didn't do anything wrong. She took us in." Even for magical folk, James thought, they sound nuts. But Natasha's expression said that she thought the boy had shared too much. "What is going on?" Lily asked. Harry laughed, confusing James, what was funny about this? Natasha shook her head, "I'll explain later. It's… in order for you to understand, it's a long story." "We have time," Lily said. She shook her head again, "You are coming with us on vacation to Russia, we will have time then. For now, let's eat" oOo When they were all seated in a large booth, MJ said, "I'm not sold on travelling. It didn't go so well last time." "I wasn't with you last time," Natasha said. Peter chimed in, "I would be cool to stay with MJ here for the holiday." Natasha smiled at them, and it was the same expression James's mother had used on him and Sirius when they had innocently asked for something they planned to use for trouble. And her words came out in the same tone, "I'm not leaving you two alone." "We're old enough to watch out for ourselves," MJ said, not looking up from the menu. James was suddenly glad Lily had decided against having more children. Harry was, well just getting through to Harry was a challenge, he couldn't imagine looking after a teenage daughter who had just been displaced from her family. Peter nodded vigorously, "I can definitely be left alone." There was more to what he said aloud, something he knew Natasha already knew. But her smile only brightened, "I'm sure you can be, but the problem is not leaving you alone, it is leaving you alone together. Besides, you're not ready for the magical assassins." "I thought they wanted Harry? Not us," MJ pointed out, "And what's wrong with leaving us together?" Yep, James was very glad he wasn't Natasha in that moment, because he, and likely everyone at this table knew why leaving two teens alone, who were obviously dating -Peter sitting shoulder to shoulder with her- was a terrible idea. Or at least not something a guardian would want if they were the guardian of them both. "The assassins could go after anyone with any relation to Harry, and I'm not leaving you alone because in some even slightly plausible future I have to face your families like I had to meet Harry's, I will do so having raised you both to the best of my abilities." "We're sixteen, only two years away from being adults," MJ said, setting down her menu and meeting Natasha's gaze without the slightest flinching. "Yes, but you also had your entire world ripped out from underneath you, given magic, and dumped in a new country, along with a thousand other little things. Give yourself time to adjust before trying to be an adult." "I'm mature." "I know that, but until you are of legal age, I will be around to supervise your mistakes." "Gee, thanks." And though the girl hid it well, James could see some of the pain she was burdened with. "What happened the last time you travelled?" Lily asked. MJ's dark eyes slid to her, and she said, "Europe is overrated." Peter snorted into his butterbeer the waiter had just handed him. Great, James thought, more secrets. "She's infuriating," Lily muttered as Kingsley, Amelia, Frank, and Alice came in, each with a stack of files in their arms. James sighed, "She's also a good person." "Who would choose to go by Black Widow? Isn't that a poisonous spider?" She paused, "Scratch that, it fits her perfectly." "What precisely are we looking for, on a Saturday night for that matter?" Kingsley asked, placing his stack on the table. Not that Kingsley cared about weekends. None of them did except for the Longbottoms when Neville was home for the holidays. Nymphadora entered the room, noticeably so as she tripped over her own feet and crashed into Sirius in front of her. They both went down in a heap, papers flying everywhere. Sirius laugh-barked on the floor, pulling his wand, the papers flying back into order. James pulled an old newspaper picture he had found of a little boy, "Tom M. Riddle. He received a scholarship to Hogwarts, recruited by Albus Dumbledore in 1938." He pinned it to the board behind him. "Likely a parselmouth who opened the Chamber of Secrets in 1943, causing the death by Basilisk of a young girl Myrtle Warren, age 14. A crime Rubeus Hagrid was wrongfully suspected of causing and expelled for. We need to know everything about him." Nymphadora frowned at the board, "A parselmouth, a parselmouth, does anyone else feel like we're missing something obvious? I've been thinking about it all week and I just can't put my finger on it. Amelia flipped open a file, knowing the organization of these files -if not their exact contents- better than anyone, to an almost unhealthy degree. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, half-blood," she said, reading off a page she had found, pulling it from halfway through the stack, she pinned it to the board, "Lived in an orphanage, Wool's Orphanage, muggle London." "Marvolo," Sirius repeated, then his eyes widened, "Marvolo Gaunt, the last known relative of Salazar Slytherin." "It would explain the parselmouth," James said, not liking that there was none for Harry's ability. "Nymphadora is right, we are missing something," Kingsley mused, his deep voice rumbling through the room. Her hair turned red, "My name is Tonks, don't call me Nymphadora." They all ignored her as the rest of them glared at their board. Their board that they had basically turned around the safety and the standard of living in the Magical UK. Amelia sighed, and began flipping through more files, "We will know after our research. I suppose the next logical question would be to ask what he did after he left Hogwarts?" "Hagrid said he applied to the DADA position but Dumbledore turned him done." Frank snorted, "That seems unlikely. He must have been terrible for Dumbledore to turn him down." Alice nodded, "The positions cursed, nobody can last longer than a year, if they are lucky." James was looking out at the stacks of papers so he saw when Kingsley's face went slack. He said slowly, "Unless it was before the position was cursed. The date…" James looked back at the picture and thought of all the older wizards he knew who were wicked enough to actually release a Basilisk on a school of hapless children. Lily grabbed his hand as the truth dawned at him, as he imagined the little black and white figure of a boy in the newspaper smiling at him with red eyes. The room seemed to come to the same conclusions unanimously. "Well, I guess we know why he changed his name, Tommy-Boy just doesn't sound Dark Lordy enough," Sirius said cheerfully. Nymphadora sat down on the floor, missing the chair completely, but she didn't seem to mind, she looked numbly at the board as they all were, and she stated, "We found Voldemort." They had. And more than that, they had found the boy behind the monster. Now it was only a matter of time before the uprooted all of his secrets. James Potter smiled, a baring of teeth, Tom Riddle had thrown his world into war, had murdered him, his wife, and his son. It was only fate that they were somehow still alive, it was only fate that he would ensure that every last vestige of Tom Marvolo Riddle would die. AN: Comments, reactions, suggestions, tigers, or cranes, pretty, pretty please? Much love to the reviewers~

Eric felt his nose wrinkle in spite of his attempt to keep cool—but he couldn’t help it. Whatever Shitty was mixing in that tub looked toxic, a sort of greenish hue, and smelt of possibly actual petrol which was never a good sign. Eric had been to a frat party or two back in Georgia and he knew things got…experimental. And occasionally out of hand. His baseball team wasn’t as tight as this one had been, however, and they certainly hadn’t been this excited to get black-out wasted. But it seemed the tradition. “This is nothing,” Shitty explained, clapping Eric on the shoulder as he poured some sort of tropical, green-dyed punch from a large tin with holes poked into the top. “This is just the welcome night for all the little early birds hoping to catch a few worms. Everyone on frat row is doing it.” Eric was aware of that. It was the reason he’d been dragged back to the haus, and all-but bullied into the shower. And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to get a date—or a hook-up, whatever. It was high time he started at least attempting to live with a foot outside the closet he’d carefully constructed for himself, especially when it seemed safe enough. It didn’t stop the anxiety, but he used the nervous energy to put more effort into his outfit, his hair, and then into a bunch of mini-pies he was going to serve as apps for people who stopped by. Assuming they lasted five minutes with the team who all seemed to appear as if by magic to devour—or if they were Jack, and appeared by magic to glower until Eric caught fire. All the same, it was dark, and music started pumping from all the houses up and down the street. Someone in the haus threw a playlist on that began thumping heavy with Nicki Minaj which Eric started to move his hips to, in spite of still feeling a little…obvious. But there were people all over now, filling stacks and stacks of red solo cups for beer pong, and cracking boxes of the cheapest, shittiest wine, and filling old, discarded water bottles with the toxic green tub juice to pass round. “Go easy on Shitty’s shit,” Holster said, slinging his arm round Eric. “He hasn’t actually killed anyone with that shit yet, but since you’re our little frog…” “I am not a fucking freshman,” Eric snarled. Holster ignored him. “…we don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning.” Eric sighed. “Yeah, whatever. It doesn’t exactly look appetising, does it?” Holster shrugged, then slammed his can of PBR and threw it across the room. It hit a poster which said, ‘Be Better’ in bold letters—apart from some sharpie graffiti in the shape of dicks—and then clattered to the floor. “So is this a normal Thursday night for y’all?” Eric asked after some time. “I mean…I just pictured this more of a Friday night thing and…” “Nah,” Holster said, and hip-checked Bitty gently. “There’s enough MOT on the team we don’t do shit for Shabbat.” Eric blinked like Holster was speaking a foreign language. “Um.” “Which reminds me, holy fucking shit. Do you bake like… bread and shit? Because I swear to god I would kill for some challah French toast Saturday mornings. Seriously, I would be in your debt forever.” Eric shrugged, completely unsure what that was but all the same, he hadn’t met a recipe he couldn’t master. Hated—yes. Cheesecake as possibly the biggest bane of his existence, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t the most buttery, crumbly, delicious cheesecake known to man. “Just get me a recipe, hun, and I’ll see what I can do.” That answer apparently earnt Bitty a trip round the party on Holster’s shoulders. It should have been absurd and a little insulting, being carried like a child, but Eric was just tipsy enough to enjoy it. After the trip round, Ransom found them, pushed another crappy beer into Bitty’s hands, then said, “Let’s go raid the drama house. They have bomb as fuck mixed drinks. One of their tech guys is a chem major and he does this crazy shit with their drinks. Molecular gastronomy, bro. It’ll change your life.” Eric had no real reason to refuse, so he allowed himself to be sandwiched between the two giant men, and carried off down the street. *** The drama house was a little bigger than the baseball one—and definitely had a more Victorian aesthetic to it. It was better maintained, and strangely decorated, but had all the markings of university students with too much time on their hands right before term started. There was a massive hookah in the centre of the main room, surrounded by giant poufs, and no shortage of people puffing on the long tubes. Bitty could smell something very fragrant—fruity almost, like cherry, coming out of the smoke. Ransom steered him away, and into a large kitchen where, in less than four minutes, he’d consumed three sort of blobby “drinks” which were filled with juice, vodka, and the third one with something that made him blow out a huge puff of cold smoke at the end. “Am I fucking right, or am I right?” Ransom said as he sucked down some squared gelatine thing. He shivered, let out a, “hooofuck,” and slammed his fist on the table. “I’m going to be so fucking wasted tonight.” “Ch’yeah you are.” Holster held up his hand, and Ransom high-fived it. Eric took a step back away from the table as they continued to survey the goods, and backed up until he collided with something solid, and laughing. He turned, his face pink from both alcohol and embarrassment, and found him staring up into an attractive face. The guy was pretty broad, chiselled features, a large nose, curly brown hair. His dark eyes were rimmed with heavy kohl, and he was wearing a weirdly tailored suit and had a top-hat tucked under his arm. “Uh,” Eric said. The guy laughed, shifting the hat behind his back. “If I told you I didn’t dress or act like this under normal circumstances, would you believe me?” Eric was momentarily distracted by his accent, which sounded familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It took him a moment to remember he was supposed to answer questions when asked them directly. “Oh. Hah. I mean, maybe not? This is the drama house after all, and I remember all y’all from school.” The guy laughed, leaning into Eric’s space. “Do you?” Eric shrugged, flushing. He turned his head only when he heard Ransom and Holster furiously whispering to each other and smacking each other on the arms. Ransom gave him a thumb’s up, then they carefully started backing away. “Your friends?” the guy asked. “Teammates,” Eric said, groaning. “Morons. I mean, lovable, wonderful morons, but…” “Justin and Adam,” the guy said, and when Eric looked surprised, he shrugged. “I had a bio class with them last year and it was…interesting. Good guys.” Eric nodded. “I’m uh…Eric, by the way. Eric Bittle?” He extended his hand, then held his breath for a second out of fear he was going to get laughed at or rejected. But the guy only took a second to take it—after swiping his own hand on the side of his jeans. His palm was warm, and not too sweaty in spite of the claustrophobic heat from all the student bodies, and it squeezed tight. “Finley Edwards. It’s nice to meet you, Eric Bittle.” “The uh…the team calls me Bitty, apparently. Just so um…so if you hear that…” He flushed. “It’s not because of my size.” “Wouldn’t have thought it.” Finley winked. “You can call me Fin, the rest of these shitheads do, but I’m not really bothered either way so…” He trailed off with a shrug. Eric realised they were still holding hands, and very carefully pulled his away. He reached out blindly, searching for one of the strange drinks, and Finley laughed, going round him and grabbing two very bright orange spheres. “Here. It’ll get you pissed good and proper.” Eric knew he should probably ask what was in it, but he was already near drunk from the stuff Ransom and Holster had given him before, and he was feeling extra…friendly, in a way. He popped the sphere into his mouth and laughed when it popped, sending a rush of an almost mango flavour down his throat. He caught himself staring right at Finley’s smiling eyes, and he had a feeling his night was going to get…very interesting. *** Eric woke up in his bed, face-down on his pillow, boiling hot from a stream of sun coming through the open curtains. It was midday, by the look, though Eric’s entire body was begging for at least twenty-four hours of more rest. Or possibly another week. Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to remember what had happened after he, Ransom, and Holster had left the haus to wander. He recalled the drama frat—the strange hookah, and the weird drinks. Then he remembered the cute boy with nice eyes who’d given him something very fruity. And… If he was remembering right, a few more things that were fruity. Then there had been hands on his hips, and really weird music playing—like Enya. Interpretive dancing? “Oh, hell,” Eric groaned into his pillow. Trying to recall anything was just making his head hurt. And as nice as staying in bed and sleeping until he felt like a real boy once more instead of the wooden puppet this drinks had turned him into sounded, he knew that wasn’t an option. He had to verify all of his classes, and see if there were any clubs or organisations he wanted to join. He had promised himself he’d join at least one LGBT+ club this year, and he didn’t want to miss any of the chances to see what was out there. Fresher week only came once a year, and while Baseball was going to take up a lot of his time, he wanted to embrace who he was. It was time to stop being the sole, lonely gay boy in a group of frat bros who never talked about anything except girls. With a sigh, Eric pushed out of his bed, grimacing at the smell coming out of his skin, like he was literally sweating out all the old alcohol from his pores. He fumbled into his half-unpacked wardrobe, found a decent pair of shorts and t-shirt with Samwell Baseball printed across the front, found a clean enough towel, and shuffled into the bathroom. He was grateful none of the haus seemed to be up yet, and he set his phone on the back of the toilet, shuffling his playlist to his Beyonce Morning Wake-Up, and hit play. The water came out hot, and as he began to slough off the night before, he began to wake up. “…can see your halo, halo, halooooo,” he sang along. He lathered the thick, creamy lush soap he’d scored right before heading up to Samwell, and began to rub the loofah across his skin. His eyes closed, and he let his temple fall against the tiles that were still cool. “…I ain’t never gonna shut you out…” His high note ended on a yelp when the shower curtain was unceremoniously ripped to the side, and he was staring into Jack Zimmermann’s angry face. His eyes were red, dark, his free hand curled into a fist at his side. The panic only lasted a second, and then Eric became immediately indignant. “I…am…showering!” “It’s eight in the morning, Bittle,” Jack hissed, then a long stream of French, the tone making it obvious none of them were polite phrases. “Jack Laurent, will you let me bathe…” “Stop singing Justin Beiber or whatever…” Eric felt his heart race, and he cupped water into his hands, splashing it at Jack while shouting, “Don’t you dare blaspheme in my shower…” “Stop splashing me with water!” Jack yelled back, then slammed the curtain back and stormed out. Shaking with fury, Eric hurried through the rest of his shower, grabbing his towel and stomping back into his room. He had just pulled up his boxers when the door opened, and he let out a yelp when Johnson wandered in, his face scruffy, eyes sleepy and half-lidded. “Lord have mercy, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Eric gave his sternum a perfunctory pat, and smiled to let Johnson know he was not serious. “Jack giving you a hard time?” Johnson said as he flopped onto his bed. Eric shrugged and eased into his shorts, then pulled his shirt over his head. “Reckon he’s like that with everyone.” Johnson made a considering humming noise, then said, “There are a few AUs where things are good from the start. The classic bakery, you know, heart eyes being made over the counter, flirting. Sometimes you don’t have to work as hard for the endgame. But you’ll get there. Enemies to lovers trope is far more satisfying when you have true character growth. Canon gives it to us. This AU is trying to follow that.” “Uh.” Eric blinked at him, then realised Johnson had probably come from Shitty’s room. He’d heard the same random stoned ramblings from plenty of dormmates back in Georgia. “Thanks, Johnson. Anyway I gotta head down to the quad, but I’ll see you later?” “Entirely likely, Bits. My narrative isn’t done just yet.” He winked just before Eric shut the door and headed out. *** Eric enjoyed the time to himself that afternoon. He made Annie’s his first stop, ordering the largest white mocha they had on the menu, then went down to the massive spread of tables, banners, and tents. It had been a long time since he bothered with this—even in his freshman year he’d been too afraid to set foot outside the carefully constructed boundaries he’d given himself, but here was different. There weren’t any of his daddy’s boys looking over his shoulder, waiting to report back on his son’s homosexual activities. Eric wasn’t even entirely sure his parents would care that he was gay—or at the very least he was pretty sure they had some idea. The boys on Coach’s team hadn’t exactly been quiet about what they thought of Eric Bittle. But his parents operated under a very careful Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy which Eric wasn’t sure he cared to live with anymore. Though even at his age, with proof behind him he was a good athlete and an okay student, the idea of coming out out was still as terrifying as some quarterback in high school finding him necking one of the marching band under the bleachers. So. It as a delicate balance, really. Within an hour, the morning was getting warm—a little muggy from a late-season storm a few days prior. He was glad for the shorts, even if his pockets were a little too full with informational pamphlets, bookmarks he was never going to use, and a couple of buttons he figured would probably get lost before he even made it back to the haus. But he found the table he’d been looking for. There was a painted mural on thin paper erected with every LGBT+ flag, a small iPod dock blaring out some sort of pop music Eric didn’t recognise, and what shouldn’t be surprising at all, was the sight of Shitty—shirtless, wearing very short shorts in the ace flag colours. He had on his aviators, his stache combed to perfection, and was shaking his hips to the beat of the music. When he saw Eric, he threw his arms out and shouted, “Incoming!” Eric had only a second to brace himself, and his coffee, before Shitty was hauling him into a spinning hug. “Fuck yeah, Bits. I was hoping I’d see you today. I mean, I was gonna ask you about it later anyway, but we throw some fucking killer parties through the year, and pride…” Shitty swiped a finger under his left eye. “It’s a thing of beauty, Bits. Beauty.” “Ah, uh,” Eric said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean yeah. I didn’t get to, you know, back in Georgia so…” “Put this cute lil fucker’s name down,” Shitty said, pointing to a girl behind the table. She rolled her eyes, but wrote the name as Shitty spelt it out, and then went back to talking to another girl who was leaning into her space with a wide grin. Shitty grinned and threw his arm round Eric’s waist. “So. How was your first night as an official Wellie?” Eric shrugged. “Um. It was okay. I think I drank too much—didn’t do anything I regret. I hope. Met a cute boy though at the drama house who…” “Finley,” Shitty said, nodding sagely. “He was here earlier asking if you’d turned up. Told me to give you this. He said Holster had to carry you home before he could get your digits.” Eric stared down at the paper with the neat block lettering spelling out Finley’s name, and his number. He took it, then shoved it into his pocket. “Thanks. Um…how was your night?” “Ah, not bad, not bad my dude. Jack came down and had his bitch-fit round midnight, chased everyone out. But it was pretty good. Just wait til Lards gets back.” “Lards,” Eric repeated. “Team manager, fucking beast, beer pong champ, all around greatest human being that ever lived. Lardo runs the team. Even Jack chills out round them. Plus they can literally drink the entire football team under the table and for that, they’re a national treasure.” Eric couldn’t help a laugh. “So I guess it’s not just me Jack hates.” Shitty blew out a puff of air. “Look, Bits. You need to understand he’s…” “I heard about the whole Bad Bob thing. Or well…whatever Holster and Ransom wanted to share.” Eric shrugged. “It’s…fine. He doesn’t have to like me.” “Jack’s kind of a purist. It happens in Baseball, you know? People don’t really become fans, they’re born into it. It’s…” Shitty shrugged and leant against the table, crossing his feet at the ankles. “When you have a reputation like Bob Zimmermann to live up to, it’s gonna fuck a guy up, you know? And the worst part is, Bob doesn’t give a shit whether or not Jack’s any good, but Jack has a hard time seeing past that. His entire life has somehow revolved round this game, and Bob’s the centre of it. Objectively, Jack loves his dad, but…with all that shit…” “I get it,” Eric said. “Trust me, I get it. The whole…dad and expectations and knowing no matter what you do it’s never going to be what he wants or…or what you think he wants. And every time you try and ask it’s…” Eric cleared his throat. “Anyway, I get it. I don’t get the whole pitcher thing but…” “Ah. That’s…more complicated. Probably best not to discuss shit like that here. He’ll warm up, okay? He’s a good guy, Jackabelle. He and I are ride or die, and we have been since freshman year. He cares about the team, it’ll show once we get going.” Eric nodded, then offered Shitty a smile. “Thanks. That…actually helped.” And he was slightly surprised he meant it. *** Eric spent most of the day on campus—meeting with his advisor, then wandering through the buildings to find each of his classes for the coming Monday. He had lunch at a place called Jerry’s, waved at a few of the frogs on the team who looked like they were doing the same thing, then went and sat by the lake for a while and relaxed. It was late afternoon when he wandered back, and he walked into the haus to find Holster throwing the cushions of two of the sofas in the air, frantically searching for something. “Honey, what are you doing?” Eric asked, leaning against the wall. Holster turned back. “I need my lucky tie pin. It’s…way too long to explain, but I fucking let Ransom use it for five seconds and now it’s gone and…” “Got it!” came Ransom’s shout. He came down the stairs dressed in trousers, a button up shirt, freshly showered and smelling nice. He ruffled Eric’s hair as he passed by him, tossing the tie pin to Holster who quickly pinned it to his forest green tie. Eric opened his mouth to ask what they were dressed up for when suddenly Jack appeared at the top of the stairs, looking unfairly attractive in his coal coloured trousers and shirt so blue it made his eyes almost pale. His hair was combed pristinely, and he smelt, if possible, even better than Ransom. His eyes flickered over Eric’s form, then he huffed and brushed past him. “Hurry up. We’re going to be late and I’m not getting bad seats because the two of you can’t get your shit together for five minutes.” Holster rolled his eyes as Jack stormed out of the room. “I’d say he’ll chill out, but…he probably won’t.” “Where uh…where y’all headed?” Eric asked as Holster reached for what looked like a folded up bit of fabric that was sat on the back of the tv. His eyes widened as he watched Holster unfold it, and he recognised it immediately. “Normally we go Saturday mornings,” Holster said, ducking his head so Ransom could help him affix the kippah. “But the first Shabbat of the year we always do Friday night services,” Holster said. “Oh!” He shoved Ransom away, then dug into his other pocket and shoved a bit of paper at Eric before grabbing him by the collar. “I swear to god I will dedicate my entire life to you if you can make this. Rans and I went to Murder Stop’n Shop and got everything you should need. And youtube probably has like a hundred tutorials.” Eric gave Holster’s arm a pat. “I’ve got your back, hon,” he said, then peered at the paper. It was a recipe for some type of braided bread, which shouldn’t be any trouble at all. “It’ll give me somethin’ to do.” Holster kissed his cheek. “I fucking love you. Anyway we’d better go before Jack has a rage stroke.” He backed up, then fumbled for his shoes, and shoved Ransom toward the door. Minutes later, the three of them were walking down the pavement, and Eric was alone in the kitchen. With a sigh, he glanced at the counter where a bag of flour, pot of honey, and packets of yeast sat. Swiping his hands on his jeans, he figured he’d might as well get to work. *** When the dough was proving, Eric sat at the counter, his legs swinging on the too-tall barstool, and he had his phone in his hands. On the screen, Finley’s number was typed in the contact, and half a message was composed in the outgoing message block. Hey, it’s Eric Bittle, from the party. I think I should probably be embarrassed about what happened, but I guess it wasn’t too bad if you sent me your number through Shitty. I was wondering… Eric sighed at the phone, then at himself, then at the Universe. …do you want to get……maybe we could……I was thinking we might… He let his head fall forward on the counter. “Hey, Bitty?” Eric’s head snapped up to see Chris Chow peering hesitantly round the doorway to the kitchen. When Eric smiled, Chris stepped into the kitchen, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans. “You okay?” Eric groaned, letting his phone fall onto the counter with a too-loud clatter. “Oh just…boy trouble.” Chris nodded sympathetically. “I thought college was going to be more like the movies. Which I guess that party kind of was? But I woke up feeling like I wanted to die, and I’m not sure how I’m going to live like that and play baseball.” Eric couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “I guess it all comes down to figuring out moderation, right?” Chris smiled. “Yeah. My brother warned me. I should have listened. Maybe I should have started drinking younger, built up a tolerance.” Eric laughed. “Lord, that’s one way to handle it. I think you’ll be alright though, hon. Did you…did you need something? Are you hungry?” “Oh I…” Chris’ eyes flickered over the floured counter. “Are you baking?” “Some bread Holster asked for,” Eric said absently. “But I could really go for a nice grilled cheese. How about I make us some?” Chris’ face softened with a grin. “If you don’t mind…” “It’ll help keep my mind off this mess I got myself into. Maybe I should’ve done like you said. Spent more time texting cute boys so I could build up my humiliation tolerance.” “Oh,” Chris said, frowning. “Can I help?” Eric sighed, then hopped off the stool and got to work pulling bread, butter, and cheeses from the fridge. “You know, I don’t think so. This is something I’ll have to figure out on my own. But I sure wouldn’t mind a distraction. How do you feel about Chopped kids?” Chris’ eyes widened. “I mean, apart from the fact that how the hell do these kids know how to cook better than I can play ball?” Eric laughed, and clapped Chris on the shoulder. “Exactly. Come on, let’s eat our feelings in cheesy bread, and feel inferior to a bunch of eight year olds.” *** Compared to the photos online, the challah looked about right, but it was done well before the others got home. Eric half considered staying up, but wandered to his room instead. Johnson was missing—again, so Eric put his headphones on and curled up in his bed. The message was still half-composed, and everything he could think of made him sound like an idiot. But he wanted to be brave. He didn’t even know if he wanted to date someone like Finley—he’d been too drunk to really have any clue what he was like, but he remembered liking him well enough at the party. And maybe it was time to be brave. Straight people had bad dates—made stupid relationship mistakes all the time. He was owed a few. He was owed some awkward conversation, and bad kissing, and personality clashes. He wasn’t going to lose his gay card because he couldn’t find forever with the first guy who smiled at him. He took a breath, then grabbed his phone to finish the text. …I know Monday’s the first day of lecture, but would you want to grab dinner or coffee or something where we aren’t completely wasted? He hit send, and flopped back onto his pillow. One hand covered his face, and he breathed through his anxiety. A minute later, his phone buzzed, and it was by miracle alone he didn’t fling it across the room and against the wall. He bit his lip as he swiped the screen open, and he felt a smile threaten to crack his face in half as he read the reply. No worries, cariad, I thought you were really cute. Coffee sounds great. I don’t have much on Friday. Want to see me then? Eric felt his heart beating fast and furious against his ribs as he scrambled to text back. I absolutely want to see you then.

It had been a long, long week.  As Kuroo’s last lab for the day wrapped up, he felt exhausted, with the tiredness seeping deep into his bones. The class had run on for longer than he’d expected it to, and spending around 5 hours hunched over a cadaver would wear anyone out. His eyes prickled both with the leftover effects of exposure to formalin and an oncoming wave of fatigue.  Kuroo disposed of his used gloves, packed up his lab gown, and headed towards the nearest restroom to freshen up and get his bearings before making the commute home. It wouldn’t do for him to fall asleep on the train and miss his stop, especially during the Friday rush hour.  He washed his hands and splashed water on his face, slapping his cheeks a few times to wake himself up.  Alright, good enough to go.  As he made his way out of the building, he checked his phone. He had an invitation from some schoolmates to go out to drink, which he briefly considered. It wouldn’t hurt to meet up with a few friends, chug back some beers, and spend the night bitching over their copious amounts of schoolwork and terror professors.  Not too bad an idea, he could use some unwinding after a hard week.  Keeping that option in mind, he looked over his other messages, which included a check-up from his father, asking he’d go home on that weekend, and a selfie from Bokuto in the middle of training, his smiling face and peace sign framing a pissy-looking Miya Atsumu and a laughing Hinata.  Both messages made him smile fondly at his phone. He replied to his dad, telling him he’d stay at his apartment for the weekend to study, but promised to make it home next week. Kuroo made an exaggerated sad face and angled his phone below his chin to take a selfie to send back to Bokuto, captioning it with a miss u tons bro , which summed up their friendship these days. He didn’t get to see him in person often, but he really appreciated being able to keep up with Bokuto’s life and career through texts, chats, and social media.  Small things like stupid selfies made him feel a little lighter after a tiring day.  He decided not to take up his classmates on the offer for drinks. This week wasn’t too kind on his mental health, and right now, he didn’t have the energy in him to socialize. Despite his obnoxious personality and generally outgoing disposition, he was an introvert at his very core, and his social battery had finally run out. All that was left on his phone were a string of messages from Kenma, who was more than used to Kuroo not replying to him for extended periods of time. Over a decade of knowing each other rendered a certain level of ghosting insignificant. There was no rush or pressure in their relationship, not here, not now, and not ever.  When Kuroo entered medical school and started to go MIA at times due to the sheer amount of work, Kenma hadn’t made an issue out of it. Their relationship evolved as they did, and Kuroo appreciated him so much. It made life a lot easier to not have to add relationship stress on top of everything else. Kenma’s messages were a string of memes he thought Kuroo would find funny, an article about an upcoming game they were both looking forward to, and a link to his latest youtube video, which was another Animal Crossing video. He’d probably ask if he could visit his island later.  Just as Kuroo was about to reply, another message popped up.    who tf is kodzuken r u home? rip kuro he dead lab just ended :( tired :( otw 2 train station  i want 2 die!!!!! who tf is kodzuken u always want 2 die rip kuro he dead med school sucks kenma!!!!! im gonna quit and become ur kept man who tf is kodzuken kuro uve said this 3 times this week alone rip kuro he dead fuck being a doctor u can be my sugar daddy  i think id be an excellent sugar baby who tf is kodzuken u dont have the face for it rip kuro he dead RUDE roasted by my own bf .i cant believe   When Kenma didn’t reply as quickly as he usually did, Kuroo shrugged and pocketed his phone. He was lucky enough to get to the station right as his train arrived, and was even able to score a seat before it got too crowded. Small mercies. He took out his phone again to listen to a podcast during the ride home, when he noticed that Kenma had replied.   who tf is kodzuken i have to keep u humble somehow rip kuro he dead ugh who tf is kodzuken what time do u think ull be home  rip kuro he dead idk 20 mins or so?? who tf is kodzuken k same rip kuro he dead ???   Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time they spontaneously decided to see each other. In fact, one could argue that their entire friendship was based around just randomly hanging out. Now that they were adults and lived a little further than a stone’s throw away from each other, they both got terribly lonely. Even Kenma, the homebodiest of homebodies, got bored enough to venture out to see his boyfriend.    who tf is kodzuken <3    Suddenly, a little bit of that heavy feeling faded away. Kuroo smiled at the message and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window, relaxing a bit to the hum of the train.   …   Kuroo got home to the smell of cooked fish and apple pie. A weird combination, but It smelled like love. Smiling, he opened the door to Kenma putting down a plate of grilled sanma on the table. He wasn’t surprised to see his boyfriend, they both had the spare keys to each others’ apartments.  “Hey,” Kuroo said, sidling up to Kenma to wrap his arms around his shoulder and gave a kiss on the head, “When’d you get here?” Kenma gave him a small smile and turned around to kiss his cheek. “Just a few minutes before you got here,” he said, untangling himself from Kuroo’s hold to take the apple pie he had brought out of the plastic bag.  “Wow, both of our favourite foods? What good thing did I do recently to deserve this?” Kenma frowned at him, pushing him towards a chair then sitting down next to him. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, then paused. “You don’t have to do anything. You deserve to treat yourself sometimes.” Kuroo laughed and rested his head on Kenma’s shoulders. “I know… It’s just hard, sometimes,” he sighed.  “I’m tired. I don’t feel like I’m doing anything right.” He closed his eyes, taking in Kenma’s scent, letting the feeling of comfort take him over. Kenma stroked his head, running his fingers through Kuroo’s messy hair. “You need to learn how to rest.” At this, Kuroo opened one eye to glare blearily at Kenma. “I can’t believe I’m getting lectured about resting by the guy with three jobs.” Kenma rolled his eyes and snorted, pushing him off his shoulder. “Food’s gonna get cold. Eat,” he said, “And my jobs require a minimal amount of daily effort. You can’t compare.” Kuroo huffed and pointed his chopsticks at Kenma’s face, “You stay up working until, like, 4am!” “Yeah, working… Playing video games, Kuro. My work is literally playing video games.” “You have a company! And trade stocks!”  “I basically just tell people what to do. Often from home.” Kenma pushed Kuroo’s hand away from him. “And you also stay up working until 4am. Studying.” “I do not,” Kuroo grumbled. “Do too.” “Do not!”  “Do. Too.” “Do not.” “Do. Too. Tetsurou.” “Wow, bringing out the first name so soon.” Kuroo laughed and threw his hands up, “Ugh, fine. Maybe I do. Whatchu gon’ do about it, my little kitty?”  Kenma rolled his eyes at him again, “Don’t be gross, Kuro.” Then, quietly: “I’ll take care of you, obviously.”  Kuroo paused with chopsticks halfway raised towards his mouth. He blinked, “Sorry, what was that?” he asked, starting to smile. Kenma looked away, but the tips of his ears started to turn red. Kuroo put his chopsticks down and wrapped his arms around Kenma’s shoulders and nuzzled his face, cooing.  “What’s that? Does my baby care about meeeeeee?” Huffing, Kenma put a hand on Kuroo’s face, shoving him away. “Can you just eat?” He turned back to his own plate and shoved food in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk. Kuroo rested his face on his hand and stared fondly at Kenma, whose cheeks were a delightful shade of pink. He reached out and poked his cheek, squeezing it lightly. “I love you.” Kenma swatted his hand away, still not looking up from his plate. “I know.” “I can’t wait to live with you.” They had decided, when Kuroo graduated college, that they would wait until he was in his fourth year of med school to live together. Kuroo had actually wanted to move in together right away, but Kenma had told him that it would be better for him to spend the first few years adjusting, focusing, and finding his footing. Despite his busy schedule now, they’d still be able to find time to see each other on the weekends.  By his fourth year, he would be a medical clerk and working in the hospital instead of studying. Sharing an apartment by then would be easier money-wise, and since hospital work basically meant working all days of the week, Kenma would be able to spend time with him whenever Kuroo would get home.  Until then, they’d have to deal with a bit of distance between them. It was nothing that the wonders of technology, a few train rides, and date nights couldn’t fix, but sometimes that gap felt unbearable to Kuroo. Sure, sometimes it was easier to have to only think about himself, especially when his mind was being pulled in a thousand different directions at once, but times like these, when he’d be exhausted and needy, he longed for his boyfriend’s presence.  Kenma finally looked up from his plate to reach out to put his hand over Kuroo’s. “I know,” he said, smiling softly, “I love you.” Kuroo smiled back, and felt a wave of contentment wash over him.  “Anyway, did Bo send you that selfie with Hinata? I really want to be able to watch a jackals game soon--”

“So… um. Here I am…” Hecate Lampadephoros is a little girl with a great, grand name that hangs over her like a wreath of laurels. No more than fourteen years by five feet she stands like an empress, crowned by the light brown roots of hair otherwise colored by minty-green dye. She wears a black school uniform with pink leggings underneath, not exactly regal, with only one flash of gold - the badge on her chest glitters in the light and is covered up quickly by a book. A book she hugs very, very tightly. The Good Witch Azura - Volume Five. She coughs to clear her throat and then begins. “I didn’t really have much of a choice about coming here. It was this or therapy - I mean regular therapy - and I don’t…” Hecate’s eyes pass over Dad and the Flying Rooster. “Um, yeah. So, anyways, this wasn’t my idea. Whatever. Might as well make the best of it, I guess.” Instead of a spotlight, a movie fragment; Hecate as a young child and another girl with chubby cheeks and round glasses and darker hair, playing with dolls on the floor. The pictures of other children - a boy and a girl - decorate the room and hall beyond it. The kids in the photographs look a little like Hecate Lampadephoros, but more like each other. There aren’t nearly as many pictures of her. “I have an older brother and sister. They’re twins and Mom’s favorites. They were born really sickly and premature. That happens a lot with multiples. It looked like they wouldn’t make it for a while, but they did and that was a ‘miracle’ so everything they do seems like a miracle… and I’ll never measure up to that.” Hecate cracks open a school book as thick as the length of her child-sized thumb… and finds scribbles on the pages. Her face turns a bright, apple red. Malicious giggling echoes down the hall. MOM! Oh, you know they’re just playing, dear. But my boo- Honestly, Amity, we can buy you a new one. “They get away with murder - I love them, but they do - I never caused that much trouble and I still always had to move heaven and earth just to get half the attention that they did. It’s lucky that I’m good with school.” Two A papers tacked to the refrigerator. An A+ report card on Hecate’s bedroom wall. She sits beneath it, pen in hand and with a book spread open on her knees. Notes are taken furiously. “I like to think of myself as an academic.” That bespectacled friend from childhood approaches her in the halls. Uh… hey, Amity. Hecate pushes her aside. Sorry, she says, I don’t have time for morons. There’s a crumpled up D in the other girl’s hands. “The girl that… um… the reason that… I’m…” Hecate Lampadephoros chews her lip and rubs her arms up and down. “She wasn’t so much - gifted, I mean. My… the… girl… the reason that I’m here…” High school banners in blue and gold. New faces at the start of the year and a newer one still part way through it. A girl with brown skin and eyes and a cat-eared sweatshirt pulled over her short, dark hair. A beaker bursts in science class, drenching her in purple goo. “It was a classmate of mine. I think she’d been kicked out of her last school or something.” Something bizarrely like fondness lights in Hecate’s eyes for a moment. “I believe it. She was kind of… distracting. Kind of weird.” The girl with the cat ears eats lunch with the friend Hecate has discarded and with another, younger boy (a grade-skipper). She talks with her hands and bounces in place and above all is loud and does not know it. Cut; that same girl gives a book report with action figures and live snakes and lands herself in the principal’s office. Cut; the girl with cat ears flips her eyelids in front of the cheerleading team. “I think she had ADHD. Something like that. Most of our teachers didn’t really like her. I didn’t either… not at first.” Hecate turns up her nose when the other girl smiles at her in the hall. This turns to tripping and to shoving, and to high pitched giggling just barely muffled by her hands. Her hand snakes out and slaps a book from cat-ears’. It hits the ground with a loud CRACK and lands face up. The Good Witch Azura - Volume Five. “I wasn’t the nicest to her… okay, I admit it, I was a bully. No, I really was. I’m not just saying that. And I know that doesn’t make what happened my… Uh, I was pretty awful to everyone for a while. Almost everyone…” Hecate Lampadephoros reads from a storybook to a group of young children gathered at her feet. Unseen, the girl from school watches, having stumbled in. “I volunteer sometimes, at the local library. I read to the really little kids. Annnnd my siblings show up there just to annoy me. They ran into her one of those times. She thought they were cool, I guess…” “Cool” is one way to describe it. Hecate’s classmate’s whole face heats up when the older brother and then sister wink. She follows after them like a puppy on their heels, and snickers when they tease Hecate, turning her face apple-red with embarrassment. “They didn’t last long. They got into some trouble. Their fault, mostly… they’re not a great influence.” Hecate watches as her older siblings and the girl from her school run about and run amok, knocking things over and disturbing the peace. There’s no ill intent in it, but that doesn’t stop her from seeing it there. “So the library is really old and really big and has a lot of places you can kinda get lost in. I found this room one time, behind the wall, and I kinda set up my own little place there. Yeah, this is important. It’s part of the story…” Hecate retreats to a nook where no one can see her. A cozy lamplit area with a desk and hundreds of books, neatly arranged on the shelves. The Good Witch Azura printed on four purple spines. “It was supposed to be a secret, but somehow my siblings found out about it.” The library after hours. Hecate stays to clean up and hears a noise. Someone has come in like a hurricane. Papers are scattered everywhere. Books have been knocked off shelves. “They snuck in at night, looking for my diary… I kept getting them in trouble at school - for cutting class mostly - and I guess they wanted revenge. Their plan was to post the pages online where everyone would see them. And she was there too.” Hecate Lampadephoros throws a door open; sees her sister and brother laughing in that mean-spirited way she knows so well; sees the girl from her school scrambling to pick up diary pages on the floor. Amity! This isn’t what it looks like- “And it wasn’t. I was angry, but I know that now. She caught up with me before I could make it out the door. Words were said… a lot of words.” The girl with the cat-ear sweatshirt starts to apologize and persists even after Hecate tries to cut her off. She speaks quickly, tripping over her words, but she makes her listen. She is heard. “I helped her clean up the mess my siblings left behind after all that. By the time we left it was almost dawn.” Wait! the girl calls as Hecate walks by her. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a book. I know it doesn’t make up for reading your diary, but… would you wanna borrow this? I notice you only had up to four. Hecate Lampadephoros hugs the book in her arms. “I know the Azura books aren’t really considered highbrow, but I always liked them. She… leant this one to me.” “Azura,” Hecate reads aloud. “Our paths have crossed only in battle but today I stand before you seeking an ally.” “I keep feeling like I should give it back… I already did once.” They meet at the mall, Hecate’s siblings trailing after them now, guilted into civility. Hey, we should hang out sometime! the girl says as they separate. Just… you and me. She’s blushing. So is Hecate. Um… yeah. “She had… feelings for me. I didn’t feel the same way! I’m not a lesbian!” She says all of this very quickly. “I’m not! I swear! I just… I wanted to be nice. She was nice… um… yeah.” A montage of sight and sound. Hecate Lampadephoros and her classmate at the beach together; going shopping; giggling over those five purple books. Her friend removes the hoodie and lets Hecate try it on. And it’s Hecate that kisses her first. “We were… friends, I think? Just… good friends. Nothing more.” There is more. More kissing and hand-holding and sugar-on-spice. The saccharine sweetness that comes from the taste of first love. They never tell anyone about this. Remind me why you don’t want me to tell Willow and Gus again? You saw that stuff about… you know, that cult on the news. Some of those people are still out there… what do you think they would do to us…? I- And my parents! What would they say? No one can know, Luz! No one! Alright? Okay! Okay! Can do! Hoodie girl salutes. Secret it is then! “She wanted… she wanted us to… You know…” They’re teenagers and adolescent hormones ride on the feelings between them. In sex-ed they stare at each other from across the room. I… I think I wanna try something. Something like… Yeah. The other girl’s face heats up. O-oh… Okay! When- Tomorrow? After school? You can come home with me. My parents won’t be there. “I mean… I guess that would have been fine. If she just had a crush on me. That’s… cool, but I’m not gay!” Hecate leads hoodie girl up the drive, giggling nervously. They climb the stairs together and drop their school bags on the floor. “I like boys! Not girls! Not her! I… tried to tell her that. But she… but… I… um…” They’re too young to be doing what they’re doing and they don’t know how to do it, but when hands fumble, it’s Hecate that does the reaching and neither girl pulls away. “… she didn’t listen to me,” Hecate says hollowly. “I said no.” On the tape, a door opens. Mittens? The girls freeze. Hecate’s siblings stand in the doorway, stifling laughter. Oh, wait till Mom hears about this. They tear off, laughing, down the hall. Wait! Hecate goes to stop them, turning back to the other girl as she gets to her feet. You… you need to go. But Amity- Just go! Before my parents get back! Okay… She takes her leave quickly. So quickly that she forgets her things and leaves them lying on the floor. “My siblings… um… they saw what… they walked in while we were- while she was… you know…” Hecate keeps her eyes on the floor. “They… thought I wanted…” Hey, Mittens, her sister says at the dinner table, watching Hecate pick at her food. What’s wrong? Not hungry? her brother smirks, reaching his fork towards her plate. Guess you’re full from eating- Shut up! “They teased me about it at dinner. Our parents heard them… that’s how…” Mittens has a girlfriend~ her sister singsongs. The table goes quiet. … What? Hecate freezes, going stone cold still. “They blabbed to Mom about what they’d seen us… about what they saw her do to me…” Hecate Lampadephoros, frozen to her chair. Oh, we saw them messing around together. Her brother snickers. Didn’t we? Amity, is that true? The mind’s eye opens like a great, gaping wound. The Invader’s uncles on the news and whispers in the hallways that trace the outlines of a butch-looking girl with pink dye in her hair, a less butch one with blue, a feminine one with near-white hair beribboned in pink and purple, one who is not a girl with undyed blonde. A run-in with the Professor at a local library. His legs seem unsteady and his eyes are very far away. Pictures of robes and masks. The filtered words of the Gunman and the Avatar and of Ringtail crash like red-tide waves through her mind. Newspaper clippings that read EIGHT STILL AT LARGE. “I… I know they wouldn’t have judged me for being… gay - even though I’m not. If I was, though… I think my family would be… okayish with it. I think… I’m sure they love me…” A candlelight vigil. A round-faced man in a bright pink apron. His parents loved him too. I… I didn’t want to! Her mouth opens before she can really process what’s coming out. I didn’t… I… She made me do it! The room was already quiet. Now the silence stands still. “They sent my siblings out of the room and had me explain it. I… my father kept yelling until he got a name.” She flinches slightly. “I think he might have gone to find her himself, but Mom said we needed to call the police.” The officer that spoke to Bombyx Mori flicks on a tape recorder and asks Hecate questions in a gentler voice than he used with the boy. His hand on the table and hers in her lap, both the same shade of pale. Her parents speak for her, but she nods at all the right places or shakes her head, getting out few words longer than yes or no. Her stomach clenches as the realization of what she’s doing sinks in. Her mouth’s too dry to take it back. “I went to a doctor afterwards and I think they sent someone to her house. This was after the whole, um, cops thing… which is good. She’s really not a bad person - she just made a mistake! And I know they would have hurt her if they’d gotten the chance. Wasn’t there one guy that really liked them young? And poor-ish. And… and not-white?” Hecate Lampadephoros lies awake at night, worrying. She stays up until the dawn and falls asleep with the other girl’s bag beneath her pillow, clutching her hastily-abandoned book. “I think her mom bailed her out or something… until the trial. That’s what I heard anyway.” Her lips press into a thread-thin line. “I went back to school on Monday. She wasn’t there.” Hecate’s classmates don’t look at her strangely. No one whispers anything behind their hands. She’s rich and white and with parents that can keep things quiet and siblings that look too guilty to say a word. A teacher pulls her aside after class. She’s called to the counselor. Someone asks if everything’s alright and she says, in a vacant tone, I’m sure it will be. She goes to lunch and sees the empty spot at her former friend’s lunch table and knows that nothing will be for a very long time. “So… there’s not really an ending. I don’t think it’s over yet. My… the girl that… Well, she… sort of disappeared. Ran away, I think. I don’t know where.” That old friend with glasses and the grade-skipper boy come in late sometimes and leave early. Hecate sees them with bits and pieces of plant matter in their hair and mud on their shoes. Once she happens on them by accident, coming from the woods. They glare at her and she thinks that maybe the girl who owns the book in her bag might not have been so tight-lipped after all. “I… This will probably sound crazy but hear me out. I kind of hope that they… don’t find her. That she stays away… that…” Hecate Lampadephoros shakes her head and runs her hand over Azura’s cover, her index finger hovering over the Five. “I don’t want this thing to go to trial! I didn’t want any of this at all.”

Authors note: All characters are above 18 years old and fictitious. Any similarity to a real person is purely coincidental. ******************************************* Samantha Rushton grew up the youngest of four children in an affluent suburb of a mid sized city in the deep south. Following in her father's footsteps, after high school she went to Houston Texas to study architecture at one of the finest programs in the country. In high school she competed on the women's cross country team. While she didn't compete in college she continued running to stay in shape. Sam, that's what everyone called her, stood 5'2" tall and weighed 105 pounds with shoulder length blonde hair, green eyes, 32D breasts a round firm bottom and, even though they were short, well toned legs. Three weeks after her twentieth birthday and one week after returning home from her first year of college her parents left town for a long planned month long vacation in Europe. This was a chance for them to finally take a trip alone after raising four children. They were also going to visit Sam's sister Sarah who was two years older than Sam and studying psychiatry at the University of Munich. Sam was left at home house sitting. As her parents left for the airport her mother stopped to give her some final instructions. "Don't have any wild parties, if you need anything call your grandmother and I've asked Carol next door to check on you from time to time." With that she hugged Sam, gave her a kiss on the cheek and was out the door. The first couple of days passed by pretty routinely. Sam spent time swimming in the family pool, visiting with friends and running between five to ten miles each day. Friday night came and Sam was dreading the following week. Most of her friends were going to be out of town vacationing with their families and she didn't know how she was going to keep occupied. With nothing else to do she went to bed. Awakening the following morning she went for a run. On her return home she showered, put on her bikini and took a dip in the family pool. Getting out of the pool Sam toweled off and reclined in a lounge chair to get some sun. She woke some time later and realized that she had not put on sunscreen. She wasn't burned yet but knew it would only be a matter of time. Getting up from the chair she went inside to find some tanning lotion. After looking in all the likely places with no success she went into her sister Sarah's bedroom. Not finding any sunscreen in the attached bath she checked the closet. While feeling around on the shelf above the hanging clothes (it was too high for her to see what was up there) she touched what felt like a DVD case. Sam took it down and sure enough it was a case containing a single unlabeled DVD. Thinking this was odd because all the DVD's were usually kept in the entertainment room Sam was curious as to why this one was in her sisters closet. She took the DVD back to her bedroom and loaded it into the laptop. A large group of numbered icons appeared. Clicking on the first Sam was not expecting what she found. There on the screen was her sister Sarah on one of the lounge chairs next to their backyard pool. She was smiling at the camera and was as naked as the day she was born. Eyes widening in surprise Sam couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her sister had always seemed so proper. Opening more of the icons revealed additional pictures of her sister either nude or in various states of undress. Sam also noticed that many of the pictures had not been taken at their home. There were pictures of her topless on a nearby golf course, at a tennis court and even her lifting her skirt and displaying a perfectly bald pussy in what appeared to be a local park. Sam scrolled down to see just how many files were on the DVD and there appeared to be several hundred. There were also video files near the bottom. Clicking on the first one her sister was again naked by the pool. She was smiling and talking to someone behind the camera. She was saying things like, "You really want to see me do this again don't you. You're so bad." With that Sarah spread her legs and began slowly playing with her clit. Sam's eyes were glued to the screen as her sister became more vigorous finally reaching a climax and squirting all over the lounge chair. When the video ended Sam's bikini bottoms were soaking wet and she was as aroused as she had ever been in her life. She immediately stripped off the wet bottoms, threw herself on the bed and began rubbing her clit furiously using her already flowing juices as lube. Sam came in less than a minute As she lay on the bed catching her breath Sam tried to identify what it was that aroused her so. She concluded that it wasn't from any sexual desire for her sister but rather it was the fact that Sarah could be so uninhibited about her body. Wishing that she had as much confidence Sam began wondering whether she could be brave enough to try some of the things her sister had done. Getting up from the bed Sam removed the bikini top then went into the bathroom and showered the sex from between her legs. After drying off she put on a long t-shirt that reached just below her bottom. Selecting a pair of panties she began to put them on then paused. Considering it for a moment she put the panties back in the drawer and headed to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Standing in the kitchen sipping the water and looking out at the pool Sam had never really thought about how very secluded the backyard was. A high privacy fence and shrubs surrounded it making it impossible for anyone on the outside to see what was going on back there. Taking a deep breath Sam stepped out the door. It was a warm sunny day with a gentle breeze blowing. Sam began to feel herself becoming wet again. She moved further into the backyard off the concrete surrounding the pool and into the grass. It felt cool and soft against her bare feet after the heat of the hard concrete. Taking a few more steps Sam sat down enjoying the feel of the grass against her bare bottom. She felt deliciously wicked and aroused. After sitting for several minutes working up her nerve Sam's hands found the bottom of her shirt. She was trembling with excitement as she considered removing it. Afraid that if she didn't take it off now that she never would Sam quickly lifted it over her head and dropped it to the ground. It was like an electric charge passed through her body. She felt tingly all over, her nipples were hard as pebbles and her pussy felt like liquid fire. Wanting to push herself further Sam stood. Leaving her shirt on the ground she began to wander naked around the back yard. It felt exhilarating and free. She also noticed that the farther away from her shirt she got the more her excitement grew. After exploring the backyard for a while Sam was growing accustomed to being naked and the excitement was lessening. She realized that she would have to move outside the backyard to regain the intensity of the feeling. Sam gathered up her shirt and not bothering to put it back on went inside to plan her next adventure. Sitting down at the computer Sam continued to look through her sisters pictures in an effort to gain some ideas of what to do next. While scrolling through the pictures she noticed that in none of them did her sister have any pubic hair. Sam had always kept hers neatly trimmed so it wouldn't show in a bikini but now she decided to take the next step and shave it bald. Never having done this before it took a little time but once finished she took a few minutes admiring her now clean shaven slit in the mirror. Running her fingers across her newly shaven mound she could resist no longer. She lay on her bed and brought herself to another orgasm drifting off to sleep afterward the late afternoon sun warming her still naked body through her bedroom window. Sam awoke in darkness. According to the clock near her bed it was 11:45. The neighborhood in which she lived had few streetlights. The houses were built on larger than average lots and set well back from the road. The front yard had lots of shrubbery and landscaping so Sam decided her next adventure would be to explore the front yard as she had the back. She had been naked since her earlier backyard adventure but since it was now dark and she didn't want to injure her feet she decided to put on a pair of running shoes. If anything the addition of the shoes made her even more excited since if she was seen it would be obvious that she was out nude on purpose. She also reasoned that the shoes would be helpful in the event she needed to make a quick escape. Leaving her room Sam went down the stairs through the kitchen and walked out the back door into the night. The cool of the evening instantly hardened her nipples as she walked past the pool to the side of the house. Drawing near the gate to the privacy fence Sam again began to experience that wonderful fluttery feeling of excitement in her belly. Opening the gate slowly she peeked out at what she could see of the yard. Creeping forward she stayed close to the shrubbery planted beside the house. When she reached the corner of the house she paused to plan her next move. A large oak tree was just off to her left about thirty feet in front of her. Sam made her way forward using the tree to conceal her from the street as much as possible. In the darkness it would have been almost impossible for anyone to see her but that didn't cross her mind as it was the first time she had ever done anything like this. Her excitement grew with each step she took. Sam had decided that her goal for tonight would be to touch the mailbox at the street next to the one of the entrances of the "U" shaped driveway. To get there she had to cross in front of the house then work her way down the drive. There were bushes growing along the length of the road between the two entrances to the driveway and she felt that she could hide behind them if it became necessary. Everything was going well until Sam reached the halfway point near the front door. Suddenly every exterior light on the house came on and she was standing fully illuminated for anyone who may have been looking. Sam froze for what seemed an eternity, although in truth is was only a few seconds, then dropped prone onto the asphalt parking pad in front of the house. Her mind was racing. Who was here that turned on the lights? Then it dawned on her. The lights had a motion sensor attached to them that activated when someone came within range. The worst part was that, once activated, they were programmed to stay on for ten minutes. That's when she heard the car approaching. Sam lay there hearing the car drawing nearer and was unsure what to do. If the driver looked in her direction it would be hard to miss a naked girl spread eagle on the black asphalt of the parking pad under what felt like a million watts of illumination even with the shrubbery lining the road. At the last possible second she managed to get to her feet and raced back to the relative safety of the oak throwing herself behind it just a second before a police car came into view. Sam lay on the ground behind the tree shaking and listened as the car continued down the street. As her heart rate began to slow she took stock of the situation. She was in shadow thanks to the tree but the lights would be on for almost ten more minutes. She also realized that her inner thighs and bottom were wet from the juices which were flowing from her pussy. A pussy which at the moment was practically throbbing. There was no controlling it. No waiting. Sam lay in the shadow of the tree rubbing her clit with one hand while burying three fingers of the other deep in her soaking wet hole. When she came she felt fluid gush out of her like her sister did in the video. It was the first time she had ever squirted and it was the most amazing orgasm she had ever experienced. She lay there panting trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Eventually the lights went back off. On shaky legs Sam made her way back through the gate and inside the house. Not bothering to go upstairs to her room she kicked off her shoes and dropped naked onto the sofa. As she drifted off to sleep she realized that reaching the mailbox would have to wait until tomorrow night. Sam woke the following morning naked on the living room couch. The events of the previous day came rushing back to her mind. She knew that she wanted to push herself further. She also knew that she needed to disable the motion sensor on the exterior lights before venturing into the front yard again. Grabbing only the long t-shirt from the day before she put it on then retrieved a step ladder from the laundry room. Walking out the front door with the ladder knowing the shirt barely covered her bottom Sam was instantly aroused. She climbed the ladder but couldn't reach the sensor without her reaching over her head. Raising her arms caused the shirt to rise, exposing her bottom to anyone passing by. Sam almost came on the spot. Trembling with excitement she finally managed to remove the motion sensor then climb down the ladder. That task accomplished, Sam went back inside removed the shirt and dropped it onto the couch as she passed. She returned the ladder to the laundry room then went out the back door for a dip in the pool. After a quick swim Sam toweled off and returned to her bedroom to continue checking the files on the DVD. She was looking for more ideas of places to indulge her newfound desire to be naked once she had finished exploring the front yard. Her plan was to lay down late in the afternoon and continue her adventures after midnight. After checking several pictures which were obviously taken in her sister's bedroom featuring her sister in nothing but a garter belt, stockings and heels Sam was again surprised. There was a picture of Sarah on her back, legs spread wide, feet in the air with a very large dark brown dildo shoved inside her pussy. Opening several following pictures Sam was able to get an idea of just how long and thick it was. Amazed at how much of it her sister seemed to be able to take she wanted to see it in person and hoped that it hadn't made the trip abroad with Sarah. Returning to her sister's bedroom she searched for it's hiding place. After checking what she considered the likely places, nightstand, lingerie drawer, under the bed, etc. she went into the closet. At the back of the closet was the only suitcase that her sister hadn't taken to school in Munich. Sam took it back to her bedroom and opened it discovering that her sister had an even wilder side than she had ever imagined. Inside the suitcase was a wide variety of sex toys including a wand with numerous attachments, restraints, assorted vibrators, butt plugs, several different sized dildos and of course the giant chocolate colored one from the pictures. Also present was a large bottle of lubricant. What shocked her the most however was a ten inch long strap-on dildo. Was her sister a lesbian? She had never thought of Sarah that way but she was quickly discovering that she didn't know her sister nearly as well as she once thought. Sam had never used a sex toy before but that was about to change. Picking up the huge brown dildo she was surprised by both its weight and thickness. She could only get her hand about half way around it. There was no way that thing would fit inside her. Placing it back into the suitcase she selected a smaller dildo that felt more like human skin and was approximately the same size as her last boyfriend. Sam lay on her bed and began to slowly rub the head of the dildo across her clit and up and down the length of her pussy. Once her juices were flowing enough to provide the needed lubrication she inserted the head of the dildo into her hungry slit. She began slowly moving it in and out going a bit deeper with each stroke until finally she was taking the entire length. While it wasn't as good as a human penis it was definitely better than her fingers. She continued for several minutes pulling the dildo out until only the head remained inside her then pushing its full length back into herself. While she was enjoying the feeling she had never achieved an orgasm without clitoral stimulation. Sam paused, leaving the dildo fully inserted, and looked in the suitcase for some additional assistance. She located a smooth silver bullet shaped vibrator and turned the black knob at the base. It began to vibrate while making a buzzing noise. Laying back, Sam continued to slowly fuck herself with the dildo but now placed the tip of the vibrator against her clit. Immediately Sam moaned as a feeling of pleasure more intense than she had ever experienced swept from her clit through her entire body. Unconsciously she began to pump the dildo more rapidly in and out of her now very wet pussy. In less than a minute Sam had a powerful orgasm. While not as powerful as she had the night before under the shadow of the oak it was still the second best she had ever experienced. Turning off the vibe and removing the soaked dildo from her pussy Sam got up from the bed and went into the bathroom to sponge off. Returning to her bedroom she knew if she stayed in the house she would not be able to resist the temptation to masturbate the day away. While not the worst idea in the world she was afraid if she did it would lessen her desire to continue her nude exploration of the front yard later that night. She decided a run would be a good way to both pass the time and get her tired enough to go to sleep in the afternoon to be rested for her planned late night adventure. Not bothering with panties she pulled on a pair of pink spandex running shorts and a pink and black sports bra. Socks and running shoes completed her attire. Quickly adjusting to being clothed she put her hair into a ponytail and headed out the door for a run. When running from home Sam followed a series of walking trails that the City maintained in the community. They were not completely connected which required about two miles of the five mile total to be run on sidewalks or the road. Sam would begin from her home, run to one end of the trail then turn around and run to the other end of the trail then run back to her house making the total circuit ten miles give or take. Always before when running she had worn panties. About a half mile into the run Sam noticed the difference not wearing panties made. Her tight spandex running shorts had worked their way up and were perfectly outlining her pussy displaying an obvious camel toe. Her first thought was panic but it was quickly replaced by a wicked feeling of excitement. She thought, "This could be my first chance to be in public and expose an intimate part of myself in a way that can be passed off as accidental." Thinking of people being able to clearly see the outline of her pussy made Sam become wet and her nipples harden. They weren't too noticeable as her running bra was designed to provide support for her 32D breasts but they would be visible to anyone that looked directly at her chest. As she turned off the sidewalk onto the first trail she could see an older man walking a dog headed in her direction. When she was within twenty feet of him Sam saw his eyes go to her crotch where they remained until she passed. Sam was so turned on that it was all she could do not to turn off the trail into the woods and find a place to masturbate. Thankfully the spandex material didn't show how soaking wet her pussy had become. A mile or so further down the trail a woman was jogging toward her. She looked to be in her thirties and very fit with short dark brown hair, small nicely shaped breasts and long firm legs. Sam had seen her on these trails many times before but they had never met. The woman had always seemed very focused and rarely made eye contact. As Sam drew near the woman looked her in the eye and smiled giving Sam a wink as they passed. Sam had never been with another woman or even had fantasies about doing so but at that moment all she wanted was for this woman to see her naked. Sam received several more appreciative looks during her run and by the time she was back home she was so horny that she couldn't wait another second. Going to her room she stripped off her sweaty clothes, picked up the dildo and vibe she had used earlier and went into to the backyard to the lounge chair by the pool. Laying in the lounge chair naked in the sun she began working the vibe over her engorged clit and furiously fucking her soaking wet pussy with the dildo. She came again in short order. After her orgasm she lay in the lounge chair for a bit recovering before eventually going inside for a shower. After drying off and wrapping her hair in a towel she went naked to the kitchen and fixed herself a salad. By now it was late afternoon. Setting an alarm for 12:00 am she went to bed and drifted off to sleep. She woke tingling with excitement. Sam was determined that this time she would make it to the mailbox at the street. Donning her running shoes but otherwise naked she went downstairs to the front door. The house was dark and Sam stood at the window looking out into the night. Once satisfied that no one was about, she slipped out the front door onto the porch and paused, watching and listening for the sound of a vehicle. Her nipples stiffened which she began to pinch and lightly twist as she stood enjoying the feelings running through her body. After several minutes she left the front porch and headed toward the driveway to her left. She could feel the juices from her pussy already beginning to seep down her inner thighs. She walked cautiously down the drive alert for the sound of an approaching car. None appeared. Reaching the mailbox without incident Sam paused to decide what to do next, The street was quiet and all the houses were dark. To her right there were only three houses between her and where her street intersected with a thoroughfare that ran between the northern and southern sections of the city. Thinking that at this hour on a Sunday night it should be pretty quiet Sam decided to continue down the street to the intersection approximately 200 yards away. Knowing that this would significantly raise her chances of being caught only fueled her excitement. Believing that the lateness of the hour would allow her to get away with it she set out for the corner. About one hundred yards away from her goal she heard a car quickly approaching on the thoroughfare. Sam froze looking for a place to hide but there was nothing in the immediate vicinity that would offer her any concealment. Headlights game into view moments before a car sped past the intersection and continued on its way without any indication that she had been seen. Sam was horny as hell, the inside of both her thighs were wet to her knees, her juices beading down them like sweat. She wanted to get to the intersection no, she needed to get to that intersection. Listening closely for any more approaching cars she continued forward eventually reaching the street sign at the corner. She was happy, horny and knew she wasn't done for the evening. Across the thoroughfare from the corner was a golf course attached to one of the two country clubs in the city. Sam had run on it many times in the late evening and was familiar with its layout. Quickly crossing the road and passing through the bushes that separated the golf course from the street she was feeling more confident. The golf course sat lower than the road so Sam had to make her way down a hill and through some trees to reach the fairway. The shrubs, trees and difference in elevation should prevent anyone driving by from seeing her on the course which was lit only by the quarter moon that had recently risen. Sam's destination was going to be the halfway house between the ninth and tenth fairways which was about four hundred yards from where she entered the course. Making her way along the fairway she felt exhilarated in the knowledge that she was completely naked in a public place that in just a few hours would have hundreds of people crossing it. Sam reached her destination at ten past one according to the clock above the entrance to the building. There was a dim light illuminating an area outside where sat concrete tables and benches. Climbing on top of one of the large tables she lay on her back looking up at the stars. Hands moving to her breasts she began gently squeezing and rolling her erect nipples. Sam felt safe here and wanted to take her time. After a couple of minutes her left hand continued with its nipple play as her right slowly began working its way down her body, fingertips tracing lightly against her skin. She shuddered as her fingers moved across her hip bone and eventually arrived at her clit. Briefly reaching lower she inserted the middle finger up to the knuckle into her wet pussy. Swirling it several times elicited a low moan from her lips. Removing the now well lubricated finger Sam brought it to her clit where she began to make slow circles around and across it. Making herself go slowly to savor the experience she alternated between rubbing her clit and finger fucking her pussy. After about ten minutes Sam's body could no longer take the build up of sexual tension caused by her public nudity and the ministrations of her fingers. Moaning loudly Sam's orgasm exploded through her body and she felt herself flooding the tabletop with cum. She continued rubbing her clit through the first orgasm rapidly climaxing a second then third time. Each brought more cum from her pussy but not nearly the amount as the first flood. Finally spent, she dropped her hands to her sides and lay there several seconds before pushing herself up to a sitting position to get a look at the wetness spread across the concrete table. That's when she saw the security guard. He was standing about thirty feet away, just at the edge of the ring of light, and was rapidly pumping his very erect very large cock. Just as Sam saw him a huge rope of cum erupted from its head landing on the grass several feet in front of him followed rapidly by several more. In a panic Sam began scooting off the table sliding through the puddle of her cum that was quickly seeping into the concrete. As her feet hit the dew covered ground she tried to run but lost her footing and fell in a heap knocking the breath from her lungs. Sam heard footsteps approaching and tried unsuccessfully to rise. The guard stopped still five feet from her and knelt down on the ground. "Are you okay miss?" he asked. Unable to speak Sam again tried to rise but once again her body betrayed her. "I won't hurt you miss, I just want to help you. You're not going to be in any trouble. My names Jim," he said. Still dazed she croaked out "Sam" without thinking that she had just given this stranger, who had just caught her masturbating naked on a public golf course, her name. After thirty seconds or so Sam's breathing began to return to normal though she was still quite winded. She moved into a sitting position feet on the ground and pulled up against her ass, knees up she wrapped her left arm around them and did her best to cover her breasts with the right acutely aware of how naked and vulnerable she was. When Jim saw that she seemed to be recovering he stood and backed away a few feet making a calming motion with his hands. Jim's actions helped to calm Sam somewhat. As she sat recovering her breath Jim walked over to a golf cart sitting near the spot he had been standing when Sam first spotted him. He retrieved a raincoat and returned tossing it to the ground about two feet from her. He then turned his back and walked another ten feet away. "Sam, you cover up with that if you want," Jim said. Sam crawled across the ground retrieving the raincoat which she draped over herself like a blanket. Jim, his back still turned, was speaking again. "I'm sorry I startled you. I really thought you was someone else. You see they's another lady that comes down here and puts on a show for me from time to time. When I saw someone down here I thought it was her. I got down here and saw you and assumed that she had told you about it and you come here to do the same." Jim's manner and the fact he had given her the raincoat to cover up with helped to reassure Sam and his story of another woman masturbating in front of him on a somewhat regular basis intrigued her. "Jim you can turn around now," said Sam. Jim turned and Sam was able to get her first good look at the man. He stood around six feet tall, was powerfully built with broad shoulders and large biceps. He had a shaved head, thick mustache and dark brown skin. If Sam had to guess she would have put his age in his mid fifties. He leaned back against one of the concrete tables crossing his arms across his chest. "So Sam," Jim began, "if that other lady didn't send you, what you doing down here? I don't see no clothes laying around." Sam hesitated but could think of nothing to say other than the truth. She told Jim of her past two days omitting how near she lived and the fact that she was alone in the house for the next month. When she finished Jim just chuckled and with a smile said, "Well Sam, I work Sunday through Thursday nights on this here course. Anytime you want to come down here and put on a show for old Jim you feel free. I promise not to touch you unless you was to ever ask me to. I can't promise not to touch myself though," he said with another grin. Jim's manner had put Sam thoroughly at ease now and his last comment had caused her to begin to feel aroused once more. "Tell me about the other woman that comes down here Jim. If you don't mind that is." "Oh I don't mind," said Jim. "She older than you, not old but older. Pretty lady, probably in her thirties. Got darker hair, taller, not as nice a chest though," he said again flashing a huge smile. "Are their any particular days she's here?" Sam asked. "No," Jim replied. "She pretty random. Sometime she here twice a week, sometime I don't see her for a couple of weeks. She usually here about this time of night though." Jim straightened from leaning against the table and said, "Well Sam, I got to go punch a time clock up at the office so they know I'm doing my rounds. Remember what I said bout visitin old Jim again. Oh and keep the raincoat, it may help you get back to wherever you come from." With that he flashed Sam another smile and returned to the golf cart, its electric motor carrying him silently into the night. Sam stood and slipped into the rain coat. It was made for someone much taller than her 5'2" height which meant that a fair amount of it was on the ground and walking in it would be difficult. Removing it she folded it up and carried it with her in case she needed it before reaching home. Setting off naked once again erotic thoughts were flying around in her head. Jim jerking his massive cock while she masturbated was a huge turn on for her as was the thought that out there somewhere was another woman who, like her, enjoyed being naked where she shouldn't be. Sam's return home was made without further incident and by the time she entered through the front door she knew that she would be seeing Jim again. She had a raincoat to return after all.

-o-o-o- o-o “Watch where you’re walking!” Sunstreaker snarled as Sideswipe bumped into him. The ruby mech was carrying a stack of crates and couldn’t see his twin. Both nearly toppled to the ground. “How about taking a crate or two and helping me instead of yelling!?” Sideswipe snapped in equally foul temper. “We wouldn’t be in this mess had you not provoked Prowl,” Sunstreaker growled, taking a crate and kicking his brother in the shin for good measure. Sideswipe yelped, hopping on one leg and struggling to balance the boxy cargo. “Hey, my plan would have worked had Blaster not been electrocuted,” Sideswipe protested. “Right,” Sunstreaker snorted. “So Prowl volunteers us to do the heavy lifting and help Wheeljack move his lab. Forgetting the fact that we are unstable and hauling around equipment that is just as volatile as the mech who works on them.” Sunstreaker sent a glare to Wheeljack was who foreseeing the relocation process. “Two unstable elements make for a very explosive reaction.” “Have you been hanging out with Perceptor?” Sideswipe asked, setting his crate down next to the one Sunstreaker just deposited. Sunstreaker chose not to reply as several other mechs milled about, moving their burdens to a specific order as Wheeljack instructed. How the mech was able to tell what was being transported among the vast assortment of junk, no one could fathom. Sunstreaker thought it was in a long time coming but why he and Sideswipe had to lift the heaviest machinery was a mystery. There were mechs more suited to the heavy lifting than the Lamborghinis. “Sideswipe,” Ironhide called, motioning the red warrior to him. “Grab that end.” "I’m not grabbing your end,” Sideswipe snickered that turned into a sigh as he went to Ironhide to help lift a large framework that was to serve as a kind of bomb shelter for Wheeljack when he was experimenting with explosives. Actually, anything Wheeljack worked on could be labeled as an explosive. It was safe to say the entire base should be reinforced like the blast shield, which was why everyone was working to assist the transition. The sooner Wheeljack was confined to an area structurally reinforced and encased with a blast shield, the better. The twins were just grateful their comrades volunteered to help. It would have taken twice as long had they performed all the work themselves. “Higher,” Ironhide barked gruffly to Sideswipe. Juggling heavy machinery, Sideswipe teetered to compensate for the bulky equipment. Unfortunately, Sideswipe couldn't balance the heavy weight and Ironhide had the machine to drop on his pede. He bellowed out a curse attached to Sideswipe’s designation. Sideswipe staggered with the sudden shift of the devices full weight, and when it hit the ground, the switch activated. The device hummed, emitting an orange glow that encompassed Ironhide and polarized him. Which meant Sideswipe went headfirst into Ironhide’s chest plates. Sideswipe’s whole body molded to Ironhide, their reds clashing violently and making Sunstreaker cringe. Wheeljack went running to the duo, assuring them the polarity was short lived and they wouldn’t be permanently magnetized together. Sideswipe squawked and flailed about, looking like he was dirty dancing with Ironhide, who kept barking at the frontliner to stop moving. Sunstreaker waved off his brother's yelps of assistance and turned to enter the Ark. So intent on the chaotic, but hilarious scene, Sunstreaker wasn’t watching where he was going. A resounding clang echoed in his audios as something heavy and metal collided with his chest. He had the fleeting image of a wide optic Red Alert standing behind a piece of machinery, before the unknown device emitted sparks and exploded in a symphony of color. The device detonated, throwing Sunstreaker and Red Alert several feet apart. Sound was removed from existence as the device took its final deep breath before releasing its fury to the heavens. The light shot upwards in a beacon, shimmering in a beautiful mosaic that would have been captured on Sunstreaker’s canvas had he been conscious to see it. When sound fell heavily once again, Ratchet was called out to assist in the assorted injuries, the medic grumbling about his workload and the ingrates who enjoyed their pastime of self harming. Red Alert and Sunstreaker were immediately rushed to medbay, where Ratchet pried off their chest plating and scanned for damage. Strangely enough, the paint on both chassis was blistered, but the heat didn’t penetrate the armor. Internals showed an elevation of five degrees, but it was already being dispelled by internal fans. The damage had only been cosmetic. A rarity in and of itself. o-o-o-o-o-o The first thing Sunstreaker was aware of was a nagging beep. Several of them in fact. And they all were stationed near his audios with their volume turned to maximum. A burning along his helm signaled he had received cranial damage but he couldn’t remember how. He tried to think back, searching memory files for the last time stamp, but things were jumbled too badly to recall. Checking his chronometer, he started, realizing three days had passed. Primus, what kind of hit did he take to the helm? No wonder his head hurt and his processor felt like it was scrambled and fried. An alert blinked on his HUD and with trepidation, he gave the command for the file to open. He could remember his twin in a tangle with Ironhide, their colors clashing horribly. Then there was a whirlwind of gold and white, all jumbled together until nothing but brilliant white filled his vision and he knew no more. Great. Something blew up in his face. Typical. Wheeljack was involved, so there was a high probability of danger with the pyrotechnic. Sunstreaker inwardly groaned. Sideswipe was nearby, Sunstreaker could sense him, though it felt like he was wrapped in a thermal blanket. Sensations were muted, distorted. There was a good chance Ratchet had used a high powered sedative on him, probably to keep him from thrashing. Sunstreaker had a habit of fighting when he was asleep. It was why he never had a berth partner for long. His survival programming during nightmares kept sending them to medbay. Sunstreaker slowly opened his optics and sure enough, there was the ugly orange ceiling mocking him like a childish pumpkin. He really hated the Ark color scheme. Whoever decorated it had some serious issues with color. “Come on, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, seemingly from far away. “I know you can hear me. It’s time to wake up.” Sunstreaker had to shutter his optics several times to get them to focus, details slow to sharpen as a heavy fog lifted from his senses. He turned his head to the left but there was no Sideswipe. Just a huge monitor beeping a steady line. Wincing with the effort to move his stiff and sore body, Sunstreaker turned to the right, and found another bank of monitors, these colorful and blinking and showing questionable vitals. But still no Sideswipe. Frowning, Sunstreaker tried to lift his head to stare at his feet, but a sharp pain in his neck prevented him from moving too far. A monitor beeped in warning with the motion. It took a few attempts but Sunstreaker was able to lull his head to the right and see past his body. Still no Sideswipe. And wait…why was he... white? Primus! He was a ghost! A rising tide of fear threaten to pull him back under. If he couldn’t see his brother, and his brother couldn’t see his wakeful state, and his plating was now white instead of gold, surely he had perished in the explosion? “Come on, Bro,” Sideswipe said, sounding desperate. Sunstreaker frowned, opening his mouth to answer but then realized, if he was a ghost, his twin couldn’t hear him anyway. Of course, Sideswipe couldn’t see him, which was probably why Sunstreaker couldn’t find him either. They were now of two different planes. Sunstreaker could hear the gurgle in his vocalizer as it spat static in answer to his brother’s pleas. He really didn’t expect it to work. He just needed to tell his brother he was sorry. He knew Sideswipe couldn’t hear him but the words still needed to be said. Sunstreaker knew he wasn’t the easiest mech to live with. No wonder Sideswipe acted up like he did. Sometimes, he was just lonesome. Sunstreaker wanted his twin to know that he was sorry for not being a better brother. That he was sorry for leaving and for the pain Sideswipe was enduring with his loss. In a last ditch effort to say goodbye, he sent a thrum of affection through the bond, hoping to relay all the regret and love he could. It was a shame they were now separated. Sunstreaker never thought the day would come. It wasn’t fair. Sunstreaker felt betrayed. He should have terminated on the battlefield. Not due to one of Wheeljack’s errant experiments. There was no honor in that. No glory. No sacrifice to save comrades or his brother. Merely an unstable mech who played with unstable chemicals and another unstable mech that was the unfortunate recipient of said reactions. Sunstreaker couldn’t believe he clocked out thanks to Wheeljack. He should haunt that mech and teach him a lesson. He was a menace. Sunstreaker always said so. “Come on, Sunny,” Sideswipe repeated. His voice seemed closer now, as if the veil separating them was thinning to allow one last conversation. “It’s time to wake up, Bro.” Sunstreaker felt a dull ebb in his chest, knowing it was his spark saying one final farewell. With a heavy conscious, Sunstreaker opened his mouth again and was able to push away the static to speak, though he was certain Sideswipe could not hear his phantom pleas. “I’m sorry, Sides. Forgive me, Bro.” He knew Sideswipe would appreciate the nickname. He was always using such terms, no matter if it annoyed the subject or not. Suddenly there was a medical ghost hovering over Sunstreaker’s form. He could see Ratchet staring down at him, concerned. Oh, he would have loved to have enough energy to tell the medic how much he appreciated the artful patch jobs, and beautiful symmetry he graced his patients with. If only he wasn’t fading so fast. “It’s okay, just relax,” Ratchet said, looking between the monitors and Sunstreaker. “You’re safe and stable. Just, relax and allow yourself to heal.” “You can see me?” Sunstreaker asked with static filling his vocalizer. His spark skipped happily at the thought of not being dead. “Yes, I can see you,” Ratchet said, narrowing is optics while he pulled out a portable scanner and ran it over Sunstreaker’s helm. “I’m…. not a ghost?” Sunstreaker asked, fearful to hear the answer but something told him he was still in the land of the living. “No, not a ghost,” Ratchet said, eying the readouts. He appeared more worried than usual when dealing with his favorite friendly enemy. “How’re you feeling?” Sunstreaker frowned, staring at Ratchet with an undeterred gaze. He didn’t like Ratchet’s expression as he looked at the portable monitor. He made to grab the scanner to look at the screen and see the results that troubled the medic, but he pulled up short. His hands! They weren’t the long, tapered fingers, riddled with scars and buffed to an indecent shine. His fingers were shorter, blunted, dented, scratched, and his arm was plated in white. Ratchet put down the scanner and grasped Sunstreaker’s chin, turning his head so he could look into his optics. “How are you feeling, Red?” Sunstreaker frowned. Ratchet didn’t look like he was playing a prank. It wasn’t in his nature. Primus! It couldn’t be! Fearfully he reached up, moving Ratchet’s hands so he could examine his helm. Much to his terror, there were no helm fins. But there were audial horns. “Slag!” Sunstreaker swore, looking up into Ratchet’s face. Ratchet frowned. “Ratchet you aren’t going to believe this, but I’m Sunstreaker.” “You suffered a sonic concussion,” Ratchet said slowly. “It has destabilized your systems. You are not Sunstreaker. You are Red Alert, head of security.” “I slagging know who I am!” Sunstreaker snapped. Suddenly there was a blooming pain in his processor and his audios filled with sizzling static. “Try not to excite yourself, Red,” Ratchet said gently. The tenderness in his optics didn’t suit him. “Sideswipe?!” Sunstreaker yelled. His voice was stronger now that his anger was building and throwing off the lethargy. “Where are you?” “I didn’t do anything,” Sideswipe yelled back, somewhere out of range of Sunstreaker's vision. “Red, don’t excite yourself,” Ratchet warned, which only made Sunstreaker angrier. “Slag it, Ratchet! I’m not Red Alert! I’m Sunstreaker!” “Bullshit,” came Sideswipe’s voice. Within a few seconds he was standing beside of Ratchet, gazing down at his brother. Sunstreaker struggled to pull himself upright, wincing and grunting. Ratchet tried to get the Lambo to lie back down and allow his body to heal before he damaged himself, but Sunstreaker was beyond caring. Something was slagged up and he wanted answers. When he was completely upright he let out a gasp. His golden form lay two berths down on the opposite side. The monitors showed his frame still functioned, so why wasn’t he IN it? There was only one way to cut to the chase and alert the other two to the situation without them thinking he was crazy or lying. “Last week you traced your servo on a canvas I was prepping for the art show in Portland,“ Sunstreaker said, looking his brother in the optics. “You made it look like a turkey and painted it white and purple and called it Cluck-a-tron.” Sideswipe’s optics narrowed. It had only been he and Sunstreaker in the studio that day. It was a good day. Sunstreaker let him paint with him and didn’t try to rearrange his transformation seams. “How would you know that? Do you have cameras set up in the studio?” “No,” Sunstreaker said frustrated, looking down and finding the white frame instead of his normal golden tones. Primus, it was a drab color. “I am Sunstreaker. Whatever blew up, must have switched me and Red Alert. I’m in his body.” He pulled a face of disgust, “And believe me, it’s dull, bland, and wholly unkempt in here.” Sideswipe’s optics narrowed. “Sunny?” “You sure that’s your brother?” Ratchet asked skeptically. Wouldn’t be the first time the twins tried to prank him. If he fell for it again, exhausts would be mutilated with the jaws of life. Sunstreaker frowned, knowing the two weren’t believing him, though Sideswipe looked on the fence. “When we were younglings, you once endured a beating by the Pit Master because you lubricated on a client.” Sideswipe’s optics went wide. “Sunny!” “Yes,” Sunstreaker, stuck in Red Alert’s body, nodded emphatically. “We’ve been switched!” “Slag,” Sideswipe sighed. “Wait, you are Sunstreaker?” Ratchet asked, hoping against hope he didn’t have another medical miracle he had to pull off. With the twins, his magic acts were getting more and more complicated. "Yes!" Sunstreaker snarled. A spark erupted from his helm, making him flinch and rub the side of his head. “Slag,” Ratchet swore, earning twin looks from two Lambos that didn’t normally go together. “If you’re in Red’s body, that means Red is in yours.” Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. He didn’t like that idea, not one bit. Red Alert was going to scratch him all over and wouldn’t buff his gorgeous body every other hour. Ratchet went to the inert golden frame and magnetized it to the berth. “What are you doing?” Sideswipe asked, remembering the code Ratchet imputed for when he pranked someone in med bay later. He’d get the orneriness beat out of him from Ratchet, but it would be hilarious. “You know Red’s history,” Ratchet said, checking over the vitals being displayed on the overhead monitor. “I need him to remain calm while I explain things, and then I’ll let him up to view his new body.” “It’s not his new body!” Sunstreaker yelled, trying to get off the berth and feeling the world spin. He grasped the edges to steady himself. “It’s my slagging body and I want it back! It took me millennia to get it looking that way! I’m not having some paranoid nutcase slag it up!” “Sunny, calm down” Sideswipe said, finding it difficult to look at Red Alert’s features when he spoke his brother’s designation. “You’re sparking.” Sunstreaker opened his mouth to snap at his twin, but a sharp pain through his helm halted his verbal tirade. He hissed, clutching his helm. Sparks kissed his fingertips. Sideswipe felt a slight burning along his circuitry, starting from his errant spark and traveling along his plating. “Ratchet, how can I still feel Sunny?” he asked, rubbing his chest plates to soothe the burn. “Wheeljack’s device switched sparks with bodies,” Ratchet said, running a diagnostic on Sunstreaker’s motionless form. Primus, he looked terminated, if he didn’t look so beautifully golden. “The explosion probably transferred their consciousnesses between the two as well. The spark carries our memories and emotions. It's the part that makes us who we are as individuals. All of our memories and emotions are stored in the exact same manner, and it is possible, as evidenced here, that the consciousness can be transferred between frames. We do it when we upgrade into our adult frames. We transfer the spark to the new chamber. Though it’s supposed to be impossible after a youngling has had their final upgrade.” “I don’t want to downgrade,” Sunstreaker spat, glaring at his beautiful body that was now so far away. Primus, the burning pain was getting worse. His vision was starting to distort. He hissed again, grasping his helm tighter. “Settle down Sunstreaker,” Ratchet said, going to the now white sociopath and injecting a sedative into his main line. “You’re in Red’s body, and his glitch is still present.” “Tell me about it,’ Sunstreaker moaned, feeling the pain ease up to a dull throb. Primus, it felt like he had a slow spark ache echoing in his helm. Is this what Red Alert experienced every second of every day? No wonder the mech was a basket case. The pain alone was nauseating. “Ratchet?” came a feeble, static filled voice from the other side of the ward. Ratchet left his white plated patient to join his golden plated one. “Red, how are you feeling?” Ratchet asked, keeping the skittish mech calm. Red Alert was always frantic when coming back to consciousness. Red opened his vents, pulling in cool air over his systems and exhaling a long breath. “Feels great, whatever you did," Red said. “No burning. No pain. Everything feels….. “ Red trailed off, his face going slack. “Primus, why can’t I feel the pain and burning? Ratchet, what’s happened?” “Red, I need you to calm down,” Ratchet said to the naturally panicky mech. It was weird to see Sunstreaker’s golden frame so freaked out. ”One of Wheeljack’s devices exploded,” Ratchet said slowly, hoping Red Alert would understand through his panicking state. “Did he destroy my body?” Red asked, fearful. “No.” Red Alert paused, trying to process what happened. The fact he physically felt fine was unnerving. There were no warnings along his HUD, which only made him panic worse. “Red, settle down,” Ratchet snapped, not wanting to upset the golden Lambo. This was beyond weird. “The device switched your body with Sunstreaker’s. You are now inhabiting his frame and he, yours.” Red faltered, optics shuttering a couple of times before narrowing at Ratchet. “What?” “The device, it changed the polarity of your bodies, switching your processors and sparks.” Red Alert frowned, still disbelieving. Ratchet hit the demagnetizing button and grasped the golden arm, lifting it up where Red Alert could see the color. His optics went wide as he took in the golden frame. A quick scan of systems showed his memory storage, energy absorption, normal pressure in all lines, fully charged systems, and a processing unit that was faster and higher than what he had thought possible. Structural and neurological integrity was at one hundred percent. Neural conductivity also was at optimal performance. Red Alert took another long draught, reveling in the coolness invading the golden body and no red flags appearing in his HUD for compromised filters and glitched systems. He felt like he was able to stretch, mentally, inside this new body. It was… freeing. This was how he felt he SHOULD be had he not developed the anomalies that plagued his normal frame. “Don’t get used to it because I’ll be wanting that back,” Sunstreaker yelled from across the ward. Red Alert slowly lifted himself up on the berth and looked over to see his white plated body glaring back at him. It was very unsettling, but strangely enough, he didn’t feel the full blown desire to scream and panic. It was creepy, but there was no pain or burning of circuits to signal a full blown meltdown. His spark wasn’t frantic and seizing in its chamber. If anything, it was calm and steady. Was this what it was like to have a normal processor? Is this what a regular operating system felt like? Red Alert may be reluctant to part with such a pristine treasure. “You okay?” Sideswipe asked, watching his brother rub his helm. “I will be,” Sunstreaker muttered. Primus, he felt so…. hot and constricted. Why wasn’t his cache dumping like it should and deleting the unnecessary files? Why wasn’t he able to piece his thoughts together while they ran chaotically through his mind? It was hard to think when his processor was going in a million different directions and sending his spark into a faster tempo of panic. It was like his processor and spark were competing to see which one would glitch first. “Aside from the regular glitches, you two aftheads are stable and in good health,” Ratchet said returning to the twins and checking the bioelectrical output from the white Lamborghini. “Burns,” Sunstreaker muttered when Ratchet popped an access port on the sparking helm and made an adjustment. Sunstreaker winced and breathed a sigh of relief when the burning sensation lessened. Not by much, but now it was more tolerable. “Don’t overly stress your processor,” Ratchet warned, looking Sunstreaker in the optic. “Red’s frame is riddled with glitches, and if you try to exert yourself, you’ll cause his systems to fail.” Sunstreaker glanced to his golden body and saw the devastated look on his own face. Primus, this was beyond weird. “How long until you can fix this?” Sunstreaker asked. “Wheeljack is already running diagnostics through the main scanner and looking for the blueprints that have went missing since the relocation,” Ratchet explained, closing the port. “You sure he even had blueprints?” Sunstreaker asked, rubbing the plating above his spark chamber. “He says there is, so he better produce some sort of schematics or he’s going to find a screwdriver shoved in a very uncomfortable place.” “Am I free to go?” Red Alert asked. It was odd seeing Sunstreaker’s powerful frame looking so timid. “Yes,” Ratchet said, waving toward the door. “Both of you are on restricted duty until this has been resolved. Neither is to do things that they know the other would not appreciate. If you do something to mangle your frames, I will bang out the dents in an extremely violent manner. Am I understood?” Both Lambos nodded. “I’ve already alerted the others about this condition,” Ratchet said, still hearing Jazz and Ironhide laugh their axels off over the comm. freq. They were enjoying this little tragic disposition. “I have duties to attend,” Red Alert said, walking from the medbay pain free and unfazed by paranoia and worry for the first time in his adult life. He entered his security station and found the monitoring duty to be a breeze, his processor not struggling with the constant desire to check for faults and see enemy incursions at every turn. He smiled at the screens and drank some energon that had been left for him by Inferno. Unfortunately, Sunstreaker wasn’t fairing as well in Red Alert’s body. He headed to the rec room to refuel, his systems blinking a constant veil like human blood. He was getting tired of seeing the infra red end of the spectrum. When he got to the dispenser he paused, staring, suddenly imagining it to be laced with poison. His spark pulsed, agreeing with the assessment. “What’s causing your flips?” Sideswipe asked from behind him. Sunstreaker turned and found his brother rubbing his chest directly over his spark chamber. “What’s wrong?” Sunstreaker asked, fearing the worst. “Are you having a spark attack? Are you picking up on the glitch from this frame?” “Shut up,” Sideswipe snapped, annoyed. “You sound as paranoid as Red!” “Sorry,” Sunstreaker muttered, which was so unlike himself. Apparently his body wasn’t the only thing that was changed. His thought processes and emotional center were off the chart. This is the type of sensation he had when he drank too much high grade and touched high voltage wires. Is this how Red functioned? With his circuits this scrambled? The burning came back in a powerful wave, making Sunstreaker wince and teeter. Sideswipe caught him before he could collapse and steered him to a chair. Sunstreaker sat down heavily feeling as if his helm was about to explode. Primus, there was so much running through his head. It was so jumbled and erratic. And why wouldn’t his spark stop skipping like that? Like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. He vaguely wondered if it was possible to ding the inside of a spark chamber with the flickering of a spark. A half cube was placed in his hand by his brother, who helped him tip the contents down his throat. His analyzers sputtered, circuits stalling out like they had been shorted before they hummed in appreciation. The error messages reduced by half. Sunstreaker sagged in the chair, resembling a balloon losing air. “Sunstreaker, are you okay? Do you need Ratchet?” Bluestreak asked. He had thought it cruel everyone was laughing at the unfortunate turn of events. He couldn't find anything comical with the situation and shuddered to think if he had switched bodies with someone else. Primus, that would be embarrassing. .. and more than a little awkward. “I’ll be fine,” Sunstreaker muttered, keeping his optics closed and rubbing his temples . “Just low systems and needed a boost.” Bluestreak sat down on Sunstreaker’s opposite side, his doorwings fanning wide, sensing the erratic spark pulse emanating from the white frame. Sideswipe groaned, shoulders slumping. “Bro, I have to go,” he said, hearing Prowl cackle over the comms about missed duties and negligence. “Prowl’s demanding my skid plates unless I go with Tracks on patrol this evening.” “It’s okay. I can stay with him,” Bluestreak said, smiling at Sunstreaker though the white mech was still distracted by the throbbing in his helm. “Maybe I can help him polish up. That always makes him feel better.” "I need to lie down," Sunstreaker muttered. Bluestreak immediately grasped the disembodied frontliner and helped him to his pedes. “Primus,” Sideswipe groaned, face twisting into a look of revulsion. “You have to charge with me tonight. Oh, this is going to be weird and disgusting.” “It’s a barrel of laughs from my perspective,” Sunstreaker groused, finding the flipping in his spark chamber to be a real nuisance. Primus, his spark wasn’t this bad since when he and Sideswipe were younglings, and needed merges to stabilize their lives. Now? Well, it would be sickening if they had to merge to stabilize. Sunstreaker wasn't sure he could endure such a thing. It was gross, creepy, and wholly unacceptable. Sideswipe didn’t appear to be to be suffering from the anomaly, but it was only a matter of time before he went out of sync. “Mech’s are going to talk,” Sideswipe said, grinning at his brother who didn’t see the humor in the situation. “Who cares?” Sunstreaker muttered. He groaned, doubling over and clutching his midsection. He felt like he was going to purge. “I need to lie down.” “I’ll help him,” Bluestreak said, latching onto Sunstreaker’s borrowed frame to help steady him. A spark erupted from Sunstreaker’s helm, the burning seeping back into his consciousness again. Perhaps if he charged he’d feel better? “I’ll see you later tonight," Sideswipe said, sending an answer to Prowl so the mech would stop griping like a PMS’ing harpy over the comms. Bluestreak helped steady Sunstreaker to the room he shared with his twin. Normally Sunstreaker would shy away from tactile contact, but he didn’t mind the assistance as his perception had him rocking back and forth like a teeter totter. “You get some rest. I’ll buff you up," Bluestreak said, going to the shelf that held Sunstreaker’s detailing supplies. When he turned back, Sunstreaker was already charging. Sideswipe kept a constant check on his twin via comms, Bluestreak supplying a steady stream of updates. The patrol route took half the time as Sideswipe hit the triple digits. He knew he would receive speeding tickets from traffic cameras, but he didn't care. Prowl could kiss his aft. His brother was more important than trolling streets looking for possible Decepticons. An hour later, Sideswipe plodded down the hall to his quarters. The last leg of the patrol route had been tedious, Tracks providing a constant commentary on the corrosive nature of the organic world as rain turned silt into a gritty sludge. Tracks wisely kept his vocalizer off about Sunstreaker’s predicament, lest his patrol partner run him into a guardrail. When Sideswipe entered his quarters it was to find Bluestreak diligently buffing the white plating. “How’s he doing?” he asked quietly, looking at the calm face that was not his twin. It felt so surreal to be addressing Red Alert’s body. He was used it to shouting and accusing him of things. He had felt some twinges of pain over the bond he share with his twin, but it had lessened. Now he had a low thrum that felt like a giant bass was playing a single note along his spark casing. “He‘s been charging since you left,’ Bluestreak said, finishing up his polishing job and placing Sunstreaker’s supplies back in their proper place. “I’ve got him as shiny and flawless as I can. You’ll have to do his back though. I couldn’t get him to turn over.” Sideswipe nodded, his optics tired. “Thanks, Blue.” “No problem,” Bluestreak chirped, doorwings fluttering. “I’m down the hall if you need me.” Sideswipe nodded and shut the door behind Bluestreak and turned to look at the inert white frame. Primus, it was slagging weird to see Red Alert’s body on Sunstreaker’s berth. Correction. It was a nightmare. Hoping to wake up tomorrow and find the whole thing had been a dream, Sideswipe curled up on his berth and was sound asleep within seconds, his hand resting over his spark chamber. o-o -o-o

Akihito hadn't been awake five minutes before he began ranting.  He'd already spent one fretful night at the hospital in Bali, hopped up on pain killers and antibiotics for his infected broken legs, feverishly tossing and babbling gibberish.  Asami hadn't left his room.  The crime lord had slept in a reclining chair he'd had brought in and set next to the bed.   Kei had brought him breakfast and kept him apprised of business matters.  The jet was en-route to Bali with Aki's parents on board. Asami had just finished shaving in the bathroom off Akihito's room when he heard the young man crying. "Asami...."  Asami was there, bedside, in his white shirt (albeit unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up) and slacks, his face still damp.  "I'm here, Kitten," the crime lord said, taking his lover's hand.   Aki focused distressed hazel eyes on Asami.  "You must protect Suardika!"  He pulled his hand away and began tossing and making sounds as if he were uncomfortable. "She saved my life!" Aki declared, his voice hoarse and cracking.  He was no longer feverish, but all the medications in his system were making him loopy, nauseous, and irritable; he felt like shit.  "I would've died from that, that fish sting without her.  She took care of me.  She protected me.  The dream travel.  That was all her.  You have to save her from the Russians and Sudou."  Asami leaned forward in the chair.  "Sudou was on the island?" "Uh huh."  Aki nodded.  Asami urged him to take a sip of protein shake.  Aki wrapped his balm-coated lips around the straw and sucked slowly.  He lay back on the pillow.      "Sudou ambushed me on the beach and held a knife to my throat.  He was going to kill me, but I escaped.  He's the reason the cannibals got me.  He chased me into them." "He must've come with Mikhail," Asami mused. "You must save Suardika!" Aki wailed.  "She's there with Sudou and the Russians!  What if they capture her to get to me?  They might torture or kill her!" Akihito began sobbing and hyperventilating, jerking his head from side to side, clutching and unclutching the sheet, and arching his back.  He was on the verge of hysteria.  "You must rescue her, Asami!  Please!" Asami rose from the chair and leaned over Akihito.  "Calm down, Kitten," he said, stroking the boy's hair off his sweaty forehead.  "I will take care of it, but you must relax first."  Akihito grabbed Asami's wrist and looked at him imploringly.  "Kei," Asami called, and his secretary entered the room.  Asami squeezed Aki's hand and lay it on his chest.  "Stay with Akihito.  I must speak with Suoh." "Yes, Asami-sama."  Kei slid into the chair. "Make him finish that shake," Asami said as he left the room. ***  Akihito!" screamed Mrs. Takaba when she entered the hospital room later that day.  The nurse had just left from helping Akihito sponge-bathe and put on a fresh gown. "Momma!" Aki shrieked.  "Dad!"   Both Takabas flew to opposite sides of the bed and threw themselves onto their son.  "Akihito," Mrs. Takaba sobbed.  She kissed the young man's face frantically and held it in her hands.  Hazel eyes met hazel eyes.   "Momma," Aki sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks.  He buried his face in her shoulder and cried. Mr. Takaba had his forehead pressed against Akihito's other shoulder.  He made no sound, but his body shook with emotion.  Akihito put his arm around the man and kissed the top of his head.  "Daddy," he croaked, and Mr. Takaba raised his face to gaze at his boy.  His eyes, full of love, were wet with tears.  "My son," the man whispered, nodding.  "My son." Asami stood in the doorway watching this.  He was--as usual--calm and collected, his face revealing nothing, but inside, he felt awkward, as if he shouldn't be there, as if this family reunion were too personal for him, an outsider, to be witnessing.  He was touched, though he would never admit it, even to himself. Mrs. Takaba turned her emotion-filled face to look over at him.  Her hazel eyes shined with gratitude. "Asami-san, how can we thank you?" she said in a voice barely above a whisper.  "How can we ever repay you for bringing our son back to us?" "That is unnecessary, Takaba-san," the crime lord replied.  "He was returned to me, as well." Mrs. Takaba extended an arm out to Asami, and he realized that she meant to include him in this family lovefest.  Asami shook his head slightly and motioned with his hand dismissively.  "I do not wish to intrude."   Mrs. Takaba was having none of it.  Her hazel eyes flashed stubbornly, just as Akihito's so often did.  She nodded and gestured with her arm slightly.  Clearing his throat, Asami approached the bed and stiffly leaned into the group hug.  Mrs. Asami slid her arm around his waist and pulled him in closer.  Akihito--an arm around each parent--looked up at Asami with an expression of raw joy.  He began crying again, and his mother withdrew her arm from around the crime lord to hold her baby, and kiss and stroke his hair. *** Akihito's lower legs were in casts, which were suspended in slings just above the bed to keep the blood from pooling in them.  The rest of him was covered with a sheet.  There was also a light blanket, for if he got cold.  After the Takabas left for the luxury resort Asami had booked them into, the crime lord approached the bed, folded his arms, and eyed his lover.  Akihito knew that look.  "The doctor wants me to rest, you horny bastard.  That means all of me." "He also said your breaks were clean, and the bones hadn't shifted," said Asami.  "You should heal well, with no residual effects." "And to heal, I need to rest," said the blond.  He grinned and stretched his arms out over his head, closing his eyes and arching his back.  "Aaaaaaah...." "Don't tease me, Kitten," Asami murmured in a low voice smooth as wine.  "I'm not teasing you, I'm stretching, is that all right?" Akihito said.    Asami moved to the door, closed it, and turned the lock.  A thrill of excitement made Akihito shiver.  "I'll ring the nurse," he threatened.  Asami took the controller from his kitten and dropped it off the bed.  Then he carefully grabbed the blond's wrists and looked at him with eyes that glowed like molten gold.  "My IV!" Akihito exclaimed.  "You're going to pull it out!" "No, I'm not," Asami said calmly, his eyes not leaving Akihito's.  "Stop struggling, and it will be fine." Akihito grew still and stared back at the smug but handsome face above his.   He felt himself growing hard.  "I'll start yelling," Akihito said. "I'm counting on it," Asami purred, as he moved along the blond's neck, licking a stripe from his shoulder up to and around his ear.  Aki moaned, and Asami chuckled.  He took the boy's ear lobe between his teeth and gently tugged, making a growling noise deep in his throat.  The resulting vibration only added to the sensation, and Akihito trembled and whimpered. Asami slid Akihito's gown down off his shoulders and began tasting the smooth, tawny skin and peppering it with kisses.  He ran his hands along the boy's lean body.  "I've so missed this," the crime lord said in a thick voice.  He moaned softly, took one of Akihito's nipples between his lips, and laved it gently with his tongue.  Akihito gasped and clenched his hands into fists.  Still holding Akihito's wrists, the crime lord engulfed the boy's mouth with his own and kissed him urgently and deeply.  Akihito's loins ached with need, and he now had a full-on erection.  The many months without Asami's lovemaking had finally caught up with him. "Put it inside me, Ryuichi," Aki breathed, and the crime lord released the boy's wrists and moved to the foot of the bed, discarding his shirt and belt in the process.  He gracefully climbed onto the bed, unzipping his fly and lowering his slacks with one hand, while he deftly navigated the narrow space between Aki's suspended legs.  He was truly like a panther descending upon its prey, his eyes on fire since the mention of his first name, and his massive hard-on bouncing free of his briefs. Aki saw all this and groaned with desire, his balls throbbing and his prick leaking and making a wet spot on the gown.  Asami saw the spot and chuckled.  "So eager for me, Kitten.  You will need a new gown after I am through."  The crime lord slid the gown up off the boy's hips, devouring the needy sight before him with hungry eyes. "Hurry uuup," Akihito whined, grimacing.  He rolled his hips and whined again, his eyes so full of want. "No foreplay, my kitten?" Asami said.  He was enjoying this.  He lowered himself between the boy's legs, kissed the tender skin of his inner thighs, and teased his cock and balls with his tongue. "Nooo," Akihito whined, louder this time.  "Fuck me, 'Sami.  I need you to fuck me!" Asami parted Aki's ass cheeks, and seconds later, Aki felt himself being invaded by Asami's strong, long, hot tongue.  It traced circles around his opening and then pushed its way past the ring of muscle, deep inside.  The blond yelped and bore down, wanting more.  He began trying to thrust down harder on the tongue, but his legs in the slings were preventing him.  He shook the slings in frustration, the metal parts making a terrible clanking noise, and huffed in frustration. Akihito could feel Asami laughing, the breaths against his ass crack, the slight shaking, as the crime lord continued to play his boy's hole with his wicked tongue. "Your cock, Asami," whined Akihito.  "I need your cock."  Asami rose to his knees and slid a pillow beneath Akihito's ass.  He whipped out a packet of hospital petroleum jelly from his pocket and smeared it on his fingers.  He slid a single finger into Akihito's loosened hole, and felt the young man bear down upon it and moan.  He added a second finger and moved them in and out, curling them against Aki's prostate in the process.  Akihito was bucking his hips and whining with furious need now. "Fuck me, fuck me," he repeated.  Asami smeared the rest of the jelly onto his massive prick, positioned it at Akihito's entrance, and pushed halfway in.  Akihito groaned with pleasure at the sudden fullness.  Even the sting of the stretch was good.   "You are hot as a volcano, my Akihito," the crime lord said, closing his eyes as he savored the exquisite feeling of being inside Aki, "and tight as a glove.  Are you trying to suck me inside of you?"  Asami held the young man's hips with his strong hands and sank himself all the way in.  Aki could feel Asami's balls and public hair against his ass.  Akihito arched his back and white-knuckled the sheets.  "Yeeees, 'Sami," he whispered, his eyes closed.  "Yeeees." Asami pulled back, almost all the way out, and then thrust back in, angling himself to hit the boy's prostate.  "Ah, god, Asami!" Akihito yelled.  "Nnnnnghaaaaa!" "I am God," the crime lord murmured, "and you are mine, once again."  "I, I am yours, Ryuichi," the blond moaned, helplessly undone.  With half-closed eyes, he eyed the large man looking down at him.  Asami took Akihito's weeping erection in hand and began stroking and pumping in earnest now.  There was just the sound of grunting and slapping flesh, as Asami plowed into his smaller lover over and over, hitting his prostate with each stroke. "Ah, ah, ah, ah!" Akihito gasped, as Asami slammed into him relentlessly.  He was gripping and releasing the sheets frantically, thrashing his head from side to side as he neared climax.  "'Sami, 'Sami, aaaaaah, 'Sami!"  Akihito rocked his hips to meet the thrusts as best he could, and then he exploded in climax, shooting strings of cum all over Asami's hand and chest.  Asami continued to pump as Akihito rode out his waves of orgasm.      Then, the crime lord dropped onto his elbows over the lean blond, supporting his own weight with his massive biceps.  The traction equipment above creaked as Akihito's thighs spread to accommodate him.  Asami took Akihito's mouth in another deep, demanding kiss and began pumping once again, his breath coming faster as he neared climax.  Akihito ran one hand up Asami's back and buried the other in his thick, black hair, tugging gently and then pushing him in for another deep kiss.  That was all it took, and Asami came, moaning long and low, and filling Akihito's ass with hot cum.  Aki could feel the massive cock convulsing inside of him as Asami's orgasm rumbled through them both like an earthquake.  There was so much cum, Aki could feel it overflowing, running down his crack to his back. Asami dropped his head onto the blond's shoulder, still supporting his weight with his arms.  He breathed in deeply, then pulled out of Akihito and rose to a sitting position.  He wiped his prick with Akihito's ruined gown and then shoved it back into his slacks.  He sat on the bed with his long legs bent up and his arms resting on them.  He surveyed his wrecked lover: legs in traction, Asami's cum dripping from his ass, and his stomach covered with his own jism.   "I like you in this position," the crime lord said.  "Perhaps I will add a similarly equipped hospital bed to the private room.  We can play 'doctor.'  I can take your temperature and examine your prostate." Flustered, Akihito attempted to clean and then cover himself with the ruined hospital gown.  "I see nothing changed while I was gone," he huffed, trying to play off his embarrassment.  His cheeks were hot, and he knew they were likely bright red.  "You're still the same old perverted yakuza bastard." At this, Asami laughed loudly and smiled--a rare actual smile--that revealed perfect teeth and made Akihito want to go another round with him then and there. *** Dawn was breaking the next morning when Suoh and his men arrived back at the island.  Docking the speedboat on the west side, they once again took the two smaller boats ashore.  They were quiet and focused; they had their orders.  They made their way to the steep hill where Suardika reportedly had her hut.  They climbed it and found what appeared to be flag pole, but nothing else.   "Suardika," Suoh called.  "We are friends of Akihito."  There was no response.  "Akihito sent us, Suardika.  He is worried about you."  Still no reply, and no sound of any creatures, except for birds.  The team continued to scour the hill and the surrounding jungle for most of the day.   "This entire area appears to be uninhabited, Suoh-sama," one of the men finally said.  "It doesn't look as though anyone has ever lived here." "I agree," said Suoh.  "Radio the other men, and let's get back to boat." Back on the speedboat, Suoh called Asami.   "We didn't find the woman, Asami-sama," Suoh said, "and we didn't see any animals, including monkeys."  "Did you find the hut?" the crime lord asked. "No.  No hut, no garden.  We did find what appeared to be a flag pole, but that's it." "The camp was destroyed, perhaps?" Asami mused. "That's just it, Asami-sama.  Except for the pole, there's no sign that anyone was ever there.  The overgrowth is many years' old, not recent.  My men and I had to chop through thick vines just to climb the hill. "Hmmm...." "The other thing, boss.  We were exactly where the circle of fire was--I double-checked our coordinates--but there's no sign of any burn.  No charred treetops or wood, no ash, nothing." "Pictures?" "Sending them now, boss."  *** As the sun set, Suoh and his men changed into their night gear.  The speedboat made its way along the southern coast of the island in stealth mode, to the east side.  It docked outside the same cove as before.  Five men, led by Souh, took a single small boat to the shore.  From there they made their way through the dark jungle. The hypnotic drumbeat and monotone humming grew louder as they neared the cannibal camp.  From a distance, Suoh scanned the men surrounding the huge campfire, and the ones dancing, as well.  He used binoculars, as he was looking for very specific features and attire.  The head dress, especially, had to match.  Beside Suoh, one of his men held a perfectly calibrated high-powered rifle equipped with a silencer.    Finding a match, Suoh took the rifle, set the scope on the target, and pulled the trigger.  One of the tribesmen fell backwards from where he'd been standing and chanting.  The drums and humming suddenly stopped, and chaos broke out as the other men rushed over to see what'd happened.   The man lay staring up blankly with a hole in the center of his forehead.  A pool of blood was growing beneath his head.  The tribesmen grew silent as they stared at him.  They looked at each other and then at the trees and sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the spirit who had struck their chief dead....   

THREE - CATRA I glared at my laptop screen as I finalized yet another application. With the Fright Zone currently out of commission I needed a job until it reopened. It wasnt too pressing. Owning a house while getting rent from two others insured that bills would be handled, but play money people, play money. Plus ive been eyeing a really nice cat tower, and Ill be damned if I dont have it.  Scorpia gave a big sigh as she typed away on her phone. Not a usual response from her when shes chatting away with someone.  Do I ask? Do I not?  I didn't have to decide as Scorpia started to explain, “Perfuma was put on the schedule this weekend.” ‘This weekend’ meaning tomorrow.  I raised an eyebrow, “Isnt she usually on weekend shift anyways?”  She nodded as she slumped further into the couch. Ok, so she was bummed bummed.  “Yah, but she requested it off for the Mystacor trip. But someone got sick or something.”  Right, the trip that I have only heard about fifteen-thousand times. Apparently Sparkles has some aunt who runs the luxury place. Its some sort of resort or something. They were all visiting for a mini vaca, but it was really some family bonding time for the Moons in their new addition. Adora was a part of this little trip and had already invited me along. The cons list of Sparkles family had actually won out over hot-dorky-blonde this time around. No way in hell was I going to spend my weekend battling glitter and dorks for some peace and quiet. Regardless of how nice the place had looked when I totally didnt google it.  “Thats rough, bud.” I said as I returned my gaze to my screen.  Scorpia shot up in her seat before turning fully to me, “You have it off! Come with me! It's already paid for and everything!”  I groaned. How did I not see this coming?  “No.” I deadpanned She didnt even flinch, rude, “Oh come on, itll be fun!” She leaned a little closer, “Theres a spa. And you wouldnt have to hang with us the whole time. You could go off and do your own thing. I know crowds isnt really your style.”  I could go off on my own? There indeed was a nice looking spa in those photos I didnt look up. All paid? Chances to annoy sparkles? All paid? The pros list was looking a little more hefty now. But was it worth it? How much ‘group time’ would I be expected to put up with?  I didnt even look up from my screen, “No.”  A weekend at home sounded just as nice.  Scorpia sighed dramatically before resting back into her seat, but I could see her grin radiating from here as she typed away on her phone. What was she so giddy about?  A few moments passed and it didnt escape my notice that Scorpia was pointedly not looking at me as my phone went off.  I dont know what she did but I had a gut feeling she deserved the glare I sent her way as she ‘inconspicuously’ whistled and really enjoyed scrutinizing the thread on her shirt.  Glancing down at my phone confirmed my suspicions. She really really deserved that glare.  Adorka : Hey! Scorpia said you needed some convincing to come along.  Adorka : This is me convincing you Adorka : -Photo-  I rolled my eyes at the selfie she sent. It was a top notch puppy dog pout that certainly didnt hold as much power over the phone as Im sure it would in person. Not at all.  Though it did help that she seemed to be in some gym, glazed with sweat and a few strands of hair sticking to her face.  “Dirty move, Scorp. Didnt know you had it in you.”  She beamed, “From you, thats a compliment.”  I rolled my eyes as I glanced back down at my phone. It had taken the dork a few days to actually follow me on socials, I had almost caved and followed first but wheres the fun in that? Letting Adora chase a bit was far more fun. I was a bit shocked that at the end of sparkles party she had asked for my number. Pretty suave too despite her being a bumbling mess most of the night. I chalked it up to liquid courage and well placed flirting on my part.  “Still not going.” I said as I responded to Adora. Which of course resulted in Scorpia typing away at her phone, do doubt to the same dork I was messaging.  Nice try, dummy. Not happening. : Catra Adorka : But it would be nice seeing you again. Adorka : Oh, Scorpia just said you dont do group stuff.  Adorka : Thats fine. You dont have to mingle with us.  Adorka : We could go do stuff together if that makes you feel more comfortable.  ‘Stuff’? What are you hinting at here? : Catra Adorka : Come along and find out ;) I rolled my eyes, fucking nerd. There was no way in hell I was giving up my weekend to Sparkles and co.  No way. Not happening.  Even if a hot blonde is doing a poor attempt to flirt. Which would be fun to fluster her in person, but still.  Scorpia was watching me now, her own puppy dog pout in effect.  I raised an eyebrow at her, “You really think it would be wise to leave Entrapta all by herself here? Alone? To do who knows what the place?”  She shrugged, “I trust her not to do anything too wild.”  Misplaced trust. Nice. Makes sense.  My phone went off again, I expected another message from Adora but was shocked to find one from Glimmer instead.  Sparkles : A favor was called, you're invited. Don't make me regret this.  Adora or Scorp? : Catra Sparkles : Use a brain cell and figure it out.  Really making me feel welcomed here. : Catra Sparkles : If I have to watch her mope around this weekend because you're not here, Ill personally shave you bald.  Does that include wax and shine? : Catra I didnt get a response after the read receipt popped up. Guess not.  Blissfully Scorpia dropped it and resumed playing around on her phone.  Or at least I thought she had. I was halfway through another application when a knock sounded at the door.  Scorpia jumped up calling over her shoulder, “I got it!”  I had a bad feeling about this. One, Scorpia doesnt invite people over without plenty of warning to me so I know to avoid all contact. Two, it was just a bad feeling.  Time to dip.  I shut my laptop and was nearly out of my seat when my bad feeling was proved true.  Adora and Scorpia came back in wearing matching grins. Dorks.  Yah, definitely time to leave.  Adora smirked at me as I brushed past the duo. My room was the only one down this hall, so there was absolutely no reason why either of them followed.  Adora didnt hesitate at my door like Scopria did, who was well aware no one came into my room uninvited.  Scorp decided leaning against the door frame was risky enough while Adora just spun around like an idiot as she took in the space, seemingly unaware of my glare. My room wasnt anything special, if anything it was pretty bare outside of the small desk littered with sketches and my bed. My closet was a whole different story. If she opened the door she would see a heap of clothes on the bottom, and hangers stuffed to the brim.  I sat at my desk watching her take too damn long looking before she finally turned to smile at me, hands on hips, “So, do you have a bag?”  I raised my eyebrow at that, “For?”  “Packing. If not thats fine. I brought one just in case.”  My glare intensified, though I couldnt deny the little flutter in my chest. Here was this idiot who hardly knew me, making it very clear she wanted me to come along. Wanted to spend time with. So much so she was pulling out every annoying card she had.  She shrugged when I didnt answer and turned to leave. I was hoping that was a sign of defeat but I was once again wrong as she quickly returned with a duffel bag.  She tossed it onto my bed before giving me that shit eating grin, “I can help you pack.”  Scorpia was beaming behind her but I could see the panic in her eyes. Adora had no idea how many dangerous buttons she was pushing. Hell at this point if anyone else had tried they would have been mauled and turned into cat food for Melog.  Who chose this time to make an appearance.  He jumped up on the bed to sniff the bag before rubbing his face on it.  Adora did the cutest little noise as she crouched and offered her hand to the feline. Who, as a traitor, sniffed and once again rubbed his face against the new thing in the room. Which was just downright weird. Melog wasn't a violent cat by any means but he didn't just warm up to people and start scent marking them within seconds. He was usually more of a glare and avoid at all costs type. Unless he was hungry. There was no way of ignoring Melog when he got hungry.  Though it was an adorable sight to see Adora just faun over Melog.  At this point Scorpia was nervously rocking in the doorway but doing her best not to all out flee from the oncoming shit storm she expected me to unleash.  Imagine her shock when I only groaned and slipped over to the closet, exposing the only place I allow to be cluttered.  I could see Adora doing a dorky fist pump in the air as she unzipped the bag.  I was halfway through shoving random clothes into the offered bag, half listening to whatever Adora and Scorpia (Who still stood at the door) were going on about, when Entrapta appeared behind Scorpias bulk.  “Oh, Adora.”  Adora perked up, “Entrapta?”  Now imagine my shock when Entrpta accepted a fist bump from the tall woman. Entrapta doest do touch. Adora must have known this as she didnt actually close the contact, instead waiting for Entrapta to do so. Which she did. Did I mention she doesnt do that? With anyone.   “Uh, you two know each other?” I asked  Entrapta nodded as Adora moved to sit back in the desk chair, “We all went to high school together.”  Entrapta and I went to high school together. Seriously, how the hell have I not run into the blonde jock before now?  Adora smiled at her seemingly long lost friend, “Entrapta used to work the scoreboard for Horde games.”  Ok, there was no way I havent run into this idiot before. Scorpia used to play football for Horde High.  “Adora was on the baseball team. Captain if I remember correctly.” Scorpia supplied, as if reading my thoughts. That would explain why I never saw her at Scorpia’s practices.  Adora nodded, “Yup. Though Scorpia and I played hockey outside of school together.”  Scorpia beamed at the mention of how they met, “Im so excited to get back out on the ice. Think Frosta will enjoy it?” Right, Scorpia had been invited along because her and Adora were going to show the runt a thing or two for the sport.  Entrapta ended up sitting in the hallway cross legged as she played around on her laptop, also knowing not to invade my space but apparently feeling social. Adora and Scopria were rehashing old game stories while I did my best to share my glare evenly between the two.  Why the hell was my room the hangout? Couldnt they move this along to the living room to let me brood in my defeat alone?  Entrapta looked up almost as soon as I was about to snap, “Catra should be hitting her peak point. Though it is odd that she hasnt become violent sooner.”  A blush roared across my cheeks as Adora looked over curiously. Why the hell did she call it my ‘peak’.  It was Entraptas turn to receive my glare, not at all because I was avoiding Adoras gaze.  Scorpia scratched at her cheek, “Sorry, Wildcat. Kinda got carried away there.”  I grunted in response as I not so gently zipped up the bag. She took that as he cue to leave, Entrapta following.  Adora hesitantly stood, “Sorry, what was that about?”  I let out a big sigh, “People dont come in here.”  She tensed as a blush crept up her neck, “Oh. Oh shoot. I'm sorry.”  I waved it off, “Its whatever.”  Adora made for the door and I couldnt help but feel a tug in my gut. Horribly enough I didnt really want her to leave. See thats the thing, if you're in my space and I like you in my space, you arent really welcome to leave my space. Yet there she was, only a few steps from the door.  Ugh, fucking attachment issues.  “Adora, wait.” I spoke before I could even really think of what I would follow up with. She raised her eyebrows in question as she turned to face me.  Panicking, I clutched the bag, “Its ok.” I didnt look up, “You can stay. Melog would be upset if you left.”  I heard her snort as she approached, why the absolute fuck was she getting closer?  She stopped a foot away from me, “Melog, huh?”  I glanced up to see that shit eating grin again, like she had won something.  I clenched my jaw shut, “Yah. Melog.”  As if knowing he was the topic of conversation and an excuse, he chose that time to stretch from his perch on the bed and flop to the floor before leisurely leaving the room.  All the while Adoras smile grew. 

    Watching him move around the office with the purpose of searching every room made her very aware of how quickly things could change in a life. In her first day in Zootopia, she had found the way he checked every corner of the tiny office to be ridiculous. Even after the encounter with the tiger, which some stubborn voice in her mind had quietly tried to convince her was an isolated incident, she had found his desire to keep the doors open simply overbearing. Bordering on creepy, if she was completely honest with herself. Now, as he reached the final step in his search and went down on one knee in front of her desk to check under it... If he had done that on the first day, she had no doubt she would have rolled her eyes and complained.     Now, she simply stood and waited until he rose and gave her a quick nod. “All clear, Carrots.”     “No wiretaps under the desk then?” she asked, though her tone was playful rather than annoyed.     “Bombs,” he said simply, walking over to what she now thought of as his chair in front of the desk, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders and tossing it over the back.     “What?” she asked blankly as her ears dropped, not quite able to quickly process exactly what he was suggesting.     “No bombs,” he said, sitting and resting his elbows on his knees, paws folded in front of him as he looked at her. “The wolves were a tactical unit. A good tactical unit is trained in explosives.”     “Great,” she muttered after her brain caught up with her, causing her stomach to sink as fear trickled down her spine. She felt jittery all over again, which annoyed her after she had so effectively managed to save Otterton’s life earlier that day. She walked around the desk and dropped her briefcase on top of it before sinking into her chair. “Something else to worry about.”     “You let me worry about things like that,” he said, his voice holding that professional edge that he had begun to shed when talking to her recently. Somehow, it made her feel a little better. Something about the stern certainty in that voice, a voice that now came with steely green eyes unshaded by sunglasses. It was a simple reminder that he was very aware of the danger and, as he had been doing since she’d entered the city, he would protect her.     Bolstered by this, she released a slow breath, perked her ears and gave a quick nod before she popped open the briefcase. “I have a lot of information to go over now,” she said calmly, setting her notepad beside it before she pulled out the flash card that had been quietly in the corner of her mind for a long time. “I realize that most of what I have here will be inadmissible as evidence if it is helpful at all.”     “Because it was obtained illegally?” he asked, easily unbuckling his shoulder holsters and carefully hanging them from the back of the chair so that the guns and baton were still within easy reach.     “Yes, and it goes without saying that I wouldn’t be able to give my source for verification,” she said, slowly turning the tiny disk in her fingers as she stared down at it. “But if I can use some of the information here to verify what I already know, then I’ll be able to build a stronger case of doubt without ever showing the actual evidence. Or it could lead me somewhere to gather more evidence.”     “Then why are you hesitating?” he asked, causing a frown to crease her muzzle.     “I’m not sure,” she said, gazing at the drive for a moment longer before shaking it off and turning to the computer. “Flash said that you would know how to access the files here and in the e-mail he sent?”     “Hm,” he replied, his head cocked to the side as he looked at her curiously. “Did he? He didn’t set you up on your own account?”     “Was he supposed to?” the bunny replied, lavender eyes following him as he rose from the chair and walked around the desk. She forced herself to remain perfectly still, which took some effort when he leaned over the desk beside her to look at the e-mail she’d pulled up. It surprised her, how much she wanted to lean into him, though she was forced to wonder why it surprised her after how close they had been on more than one occasion.     “I’ve never known him to create a joint account,” he commented, his voice easy even as she felt her heart speed up. For a moment, she almost considered holding her breath when his scent washed over her, then silently berated herself for acting like an idiot. He lived in the office with her. His scent was all over the place, including drifting around her in a delightfully heady way as he tapped away at the keyboard.     She managed to focus on the fact that his claws were tapping on the keyboard as he looked at an e-mail that didn’t even seem to have an attachment included. ‘Make your fur lustrous and Bright! For only 12.23!’ was the subject, from an address that seemed like little more than an assortment of letters and numbers. Typical spam. She was about to question him when the horrible ad in the body of the Email pixelated and started to fade, displaying an entirely different message.     Nick,     As always, you have one minute to download the attachment and enter the password. Failing that, everything will be deleted and the normal recovery fee will apply.     F     She felt a little skitter of panic. “One minute?”     He didn’t reply, only calmly typed in a series of commands, commands that were completely lost on her, that caused the file to start downloading. “Don’t think I’m a computer genius or anything,” he commented at her look, giving her a toothy grin, “I’ve just done this a few times already.”     “The mystery deepens,” she deadpanned, turning her eyes away from the orange and cream that continued to tempt her and watched as he double-clicked the file that now sat on her desktop. When he started to enter the password, which seemed to stretch on forever, she tilted her head. “With all of this security, shouldn’t the password change rather than using the same one every time?”     “It changes,” he said, seeming to pause for a moment before he added the last four keystrokes that caused the file to open. Or in this case, extract itself. “How it changes and how I know the change is my little secret.”     “Uh huh,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly as she took the mouse and opened the folder. The number of files inside was staggering, considering the limited subject matter, and she stared at the list in silence for a long moment before she saw a file named ‘NickSuit’. She wasn’t oblivious to the fact that name recognition had drawn her eyes to the file, and after a quick glance at Nick, who didn’t seem to have noticed it himself, she double-clicked.     When she opened the file, it took her a moment to realize that she was looking at a receipt of sorts. Handwritten, sloppy, but legible enough for her to get the gist of it: Tailor fitted suit Graphene lined shirt/pants x2 Second Kevlar lined jacket on request carbon fiber insulation on all $150,000 est Nick P     She stared at it for a long moment with her muzzle open a fraction. The price was outrageous, and while her experience in these things was limited to almost nothing, the mention of Kevlar at least told her that this was exactly what she was looking at. An order for body armor. One-hundred-and-fifty-thousand Bucks worth of body armor. As much the price was the date of the receipt, as printed, was the day after she had received the call and accepted his offer of protection.     Her wide eyes turned to him, seeing his frown turning his muzzle low as he looked at the receipt as a sure sign that he had not intended for her to know about the ludicrous amount of money spent.     “We still haven’t talked about how I am supposed to pay you,” she said from a suddenly dry mouth, a number of questions running through her mind so quickly that she couldn’t grasp on long enough to settle on one.     “No, we haven’t,” he said simply, tapping the arrow key on the keyboard quickly to move to the next image.     She stared at him for a moment longer, wondering if he was going to say something else, only to be met with silence. Opening her mouth to question him further, she stopped when she glanced at the screen. A little ‘huh’ escaped her as she leaned in close to look at the picture of the crime scene, the outline of where the body had been, and the bloodstain on the floor, taken from an angle she hadn’t seen in the case file. It was also slightly grainy, low resolution, which made her think it had come from someone’s phone rather than a professional forensic photographer. She looked back when she realized that he was crouching beside her chair, leaving him at eye level with her as he looked over the image.      “Where did he get this? Who took this?” she asked, frowning slightly as she clicked the button to show the next image. It was another of the crime scene, something that told her there was likely an obvious order to the files in the folders.     “Questions like that will make this take forever. If I expected he would send you things you had already seen, I wouldn’t have taken you to see him in the first place,” he added, tilting his head at an image that appeared to be Otterton himself climbing into his car in front of a building he didn’t recognize. “We’ve already established that a lot of this is probably illegal.”     “Yeah,” she said as her ears lowered. For a moment she almost considered just deleting the files, tossing the flash drive, and keeping her path straightforward. She stopped when the next image on the list was a closeup of the bloodstain on the carpet. Squinting, she leaned in closer. There was the faint discoloration in the shape of what might have been the knife, along with faint,  tiny claw marks in the blood. “Do you see that?”     “Yeah,” he said, his own eyes narrowed as he stared at the image with her. “It looks like someone picked up the knife.”     “Which could mean the assumption in the police report that Otterton held the knife the entire time was false,” she said, her earlier trepidation about where the files had come from vanishing as her ears perked up. She snatched the notepad and pulled out her carrot pen as she scribbled quickly. “I’ll have to review the existing images in the case files, see if I can find an angle that shows this, even faintly.”     “That was quick,” he said, one brow raised as he gave her a slightly amused look. “So, we’re done here?”     “It doesn’t prove anything either way,” she said, her mind distracted as she noted the file name and time stamp. “But anything that goes against what was force-fed through the trial is progress. But the images can wait. I want to see what’s on this flash drive.”     The routine repeated itself the moment she accessed the flash drive, though this instead of a junk mail cover, a couple of videos were all that showed on the drive. Her ears burned hot when she browsed the names as he started to type the information. ReynHARD, Lusty Lunar Lapins, and Deep in the Burrows jumped out at her from the list, causing her to cast a cautious glance towards Nick. A glance that she found returned with a smirk that caused her skin to heat under her fur before she released a short burst of laughter.     “Not something most mammals would want to poke around in, I suppose,” she admitted, watching as the file names started to rearrange themselves into less direct files names. The one that instantly caught her attention was the audio file called ‘Dbel’. She waved his paws aside with an almost playful wave of one of her own, earning a slow grin from him as she reached for the mouse and double clicked it. “I’ve been wondering what this was.”     “I’m not sure why I keep doing these personal journals,” came the somewhat familiar voice of Chief Justice Dawn Bellwether, “But sometimes they help to clear my head, I guess. It has been… a month since my last entry and a lot has happened. Leodore continues to be all the distraction I need. He remains ever the talkative one until given other things to do with his mouth, but I’m not sure what I would do without him…”     “I knew I smelled sheep,” Nick muttered, the idea that Nick presented and the words from the lambs own mouth causing Judy to silently groan. Thankfully, the Chief Justice didn’t linger on the subject before she moved on.     “What is on my mind today? Well, that’s easy. One Judith Laverne Hopps, from Bunnyburrow. Anyone in law has heard of her. The first bunny to willingly, and successfully, defend a fox outside of Zootopia in a murder trial since the city became a bunny free zone. Here to oversee the appeal of Emmitt Otterton. I’ll admit that, at first, I considered her a token. Some attempt to show that there are still some favorable relations between the mammals of Zootopia and the bunnies of The Commonwealth. That was until she started to speak.     “I don’t know what I expected then, or honestly what I expect now. If she was meant to be a token, she’s not playing the part assigned to her. I don’t recognize that fox who stood beside her while she presented her case for an appeal, but I do know that she wasn’t being used as a mouthpiece. Her words were compelling, even accusing towards the state of law in this city. Even without Leodore’s request that I accept the appeal, I don’t believe I had any other choice after hearing her point out every flaw in our justice system so plainly. And if nothing else, I do believe that justice, and the law, must win in the end. Others obviously don’t agree with me as I learned only moments ago that there was an attempt to kill Hopps. Which leads me to further questions, ones that I won’t voice here. I would wish her luck if that were proper, but I still have my oath to remain impartial. If she can prove her case, then it will be proven and my ruling will be appropriate. If she can’t… Well, at least here I can wish her luck.”     She sat in silence for a moment, at first trying to make sense of why the recording was sent in the first place. Soon that question was gone as she listened, digesting the words in shared silence with the patient fox beside her. That the entirety of the system in Zootopia wasn’t corrupted was not a revelation to her. There would always be those with good intentions and those who understood that any system was only as good as those who upheld it. But in this, there was the feeling that the one who would hear her appeal would take the evidence as what it was: an attempt to find the truth. It eased something inside of her, an ease that was almost physical as she released a slow breath.     “You all right?”     “Yeah,” she said, offering a slight smile that she was sure reached her eyes. She felt it. Determination mingled now with a little spark of hope. “She’ll listen. Now I just need to find enough to make what I say mean something.”     She hadn’t realized that her paw was still on the mouse until she felt his rest over it. Rough pads and large fingers were gentle as he guided her, and the mouse, over the next video on the list.     “Then we keep looking,” he said, causing her smile to return and turn a little wobbly when he pressed her finger down on the pointer twice quickly, “Until we find what you need.”     That he was helping her, rather than just being a silent figure in the corner watching over her as she had expected him to be, gave her the compulsion to hug him. That he was incredibly hot, incredibly close, and smelled so incredibly male made her want to climb all over him and forget that he was a fox and she was a bunny. The middle ground, in a mind that was more relaxed and happy than it had been since she had decided to come to Zootopia, was a kiss. Close as he was now, his muzzle turned towards her and his ears erect, she could feel his breath whisper over her lips. She had never been compelled on so basic a level as she was when she looked into his eyes, felt his paw lightly squeeze onto hers as the distance closed of her own accord…     The burst of static from the computer caused her to jump, snapping her out of the trance of her own making as she glanced at the screen with a nervous little titter of laughter. “Right, keep looking until we…”     She trailed off when she saw the gas station that was so often mentioned in the reports, her mind instantly returning to the task at hand even if her hormones were currently trying to wage a war in her blood. It wasn’t a good view, either. It looked like a recording from a wide-angle security camera set down the street, probably a few buildings down and across the street. From the time stamp, it had been recorded on the day of the night. In the lot of the gas station, she could clearly see the rear end of a ZPD patrol car illuminated by the overhead lights, obscured largely by the gas station itself. While she couldn’t see the car number, from the testimony and the fact that it was night, she could assume that she was looking at Weaselton and Fangmeyer’s car.     “Well, we can confirm that they were there like they said,” Nick commented, then narrowed his eyes and squinted as another, smaller vehicle pulled into the lot. “And that might be…”      Nodding in agreement to the statement he didn’t finish, she watched the tiny shadow of a mammal jump down from his car and hurry into the gas station. There was no actual visual confirmation, the quality was too poor and he was in the shadows of the gas station itself, but the car matched the model he drove. And the time stamp on the recording put it at 9:55 pm.     She felt a hard rush of professional excitement that almost managed to wash away her awareness of the fox who was watching her very much like the predator he was.     “This is it! There might be more in here, but this might be what I really need,” she said excitedly as she paused the video. “This is why the ZPD was so quick to respond because the unit was just down the street. But the call reporting the disturbance came in at 9:54 pm, saying there was angry shouting. If that is Otterton, there is no way he could have murder his wife, cleaned himself up afterward and gone to the gas station in less than a minute. It would take him longer than that to make the drive to his house. And even if he did manage to time it somehow, why would he have returned to the scene of the crime?”     “You need the receipt,” he commented, resting his forearm on the desktop so he could lean closer to her. A motion that she was completely aware of, even as she took her notepad and took some more notes. Enjoying how close he was, she didn’t try to move away or change the subject. Instead, she grinned at him.     “Look at you. A bodyguard and an investigator,” she said, her tone playful as she tapped the pen against the notepad while looking him up and down in a way that caused his brow to quirk. “You have been paying attention. Looking to be a lawyer now?”     “And spend my time in a tiny office all day?” he huffed lightly, a smirk climbing his muzzle as he returned the favor by giving her a once-over before he replied. “How dare you.”     “But you’re right,” she said after a light laugh, still smiling as she set the pen and pad down. “But we can’t go out looking for it now. It’s either in the impound or it’s been auctioned off, and that information won’t be available until morning. Failing that, or including that, I need to find the stoat that was running the register. Thank you, Nick.”     “It wasn’t much,” he said after a moment of surprise at the sudden gratitude, giving a little shrug. “There is still a lot to go over.”     “Yeah,” she said, reaching out to slide her finger down the length of his tie slowly, her eyes on his until she saw them go dark and heated when she ran one finger down the front of his shirt. A chest that she then poked, nudging him back an inch as he blinked in surprise. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten the other receipt I saw. We need to talk about some things, and soon, Mr. Graphene Lined Shirt.”     “Of course, you haven’t,” he muttered as they turned back to the screen.       Meetings with the Council. Incredibly important, though not for the reason many members of the Council believed. The Administrator wasn’t even thinking about them as the elevator silently and uncommonly slowly descended, instead using the pad in her paw to review the latest news articles that involved one as of yet un-named fox. An attack in prison. Another daring rescue of both the bunny and the prisoner. Another leak to the press. The fact that no one knew his name didn’t surprise her in the slightest. In fact, she very much doubted anyone would be able to find anything more on him than the fact that he appeared like a phantom when Miss Hopps came to Zootopia. Even she had not been prepared for his coming, so the fact that there were whispers of Yurei within certain dangerous circles of the city seemed apt.     Without more information to go on, there was a good deal of speculation by the press, some seen as she swiped the screen to the next news organization, ZNN. None of it was confirmed or commented on by herself or the Council, of course. But the glaring question on the front page of the site ‘A Hero in Zootopia?’ sat above yet another leaked picture of the handsome Todd easily dismantling a larger, and armed, predator inside of the prison meant that it wasn’t something that could be ignored by the government forever. How, and if, she should spin it was something she was still considering. Not that she expected Nick would ever stand in front of a camera, shaking Lionheart’s paw in a glorified photo shoot, but there were ways to make it seem as if everything was business as usual without actually trying to bring him into the fold.     She tapped the screen of the pad in her paw, locking the screen when found the sand fox standing just outside of the elevator with his arms folded behind his back, dark eyes sparkling as he gave a slight bow upon seeing her. The flick of her ears and the surprised pleasure on her face was faux, something that she was sure he knew as well as she did.     “Andrew, darling,” she said, her muzzle spreading in a pleasant smile as she stepped out and immediately past him. He fell into step with her, respectfully one step behind, as she kept walking towards the Council Chamber. “I assume everyone is gathered.”     “Of course, Administrator,” he said, the low hum of his voice keeping with the somewhat amused tone that told her he knew that she hadn’t been asking a question. “They are eager to discuss the recent developments, not the least of which is filling the void left by General Valter.”     “There will be the standard election, of course,” she replied simply, keeping her pace steady even as she saw the holographic walls of the Chamber come into view. The members of the Council itself had been more than eager to allow her to redesign it, once she had made it clear that it would make them the most advanced and envied government body in the world. Currently, the relaxing canopy of trees that ringed the room sang with the unobtrusive but constant songs of birds and the gentle whisper of the waterfall. These were all clearly made of light, being partially transparent, but the effect would and often did change depending on the mood of those within. Particularly hers. “But there is no rush to fill his seat, is there? He was such a dear friend and there are no pressing matters of governance that would require a full voting body.”     She doubted that he had missed her tone when she had called him a friend, as loose as the term might have been. “Of course, forgive my lack of compassion in what must have been a horrible loss for you,” he said, and though she didn’t look back she was certain she could hear a hint of a smirk in his voice. “I know he was one of the first to endorse your position as Administrator, along with myself. Though we shouldn’t wait too long to put forward candidates for the election. The rest of the Council will not be so understanding if we find ourselves at a standstill because of a deadlocked vote.”     “There may be someone on the Council willing to abstain from important votes until the political climate would welcome new candidates,” she commented, pausing for a moment as she turned to look back at him. “We will have to consider that they will be the future leader of the armed forces in Zootopia, after all.”     “I would be willing to abstain for the time being,” he said, causing her to fully halt her steps and raise her eyes to his face with a small smile playing over her muzzle as he continued, “and take over the burden of his considerable administrative duties in the interim.”     So humble, was her thought, though having known the male for most of her life, she didn’t buy it for a moment. But it was a part of her position to be paranoid.     “That would be a weight lifted, Andrew,” she said, warming her voice as she glanced towards the chamber ahead. Her platform was just beyond the waterfall now and even over the birdsong and babble of water, she could hear the Councilors growing restless. Ignoring it, she turned her attention back to him. “I will have the proper administrative powers transferred to you after the meeting is completed, though I see no reason to burden you with command of the armed forces themselves. Nathanial was experienced, and a transfer of leadership at this point would unsettle those who served under him. For the time being, I will retain silent command and deal directly with the generals myself.”     The broadly furred male opened his muzzle as if to offer protest, then closed it with a slow nod.     “Whatever you think is best, Neveen,” he said, his own ears flicking towards the Chamber again before he waved a paw for her to continue. “I assure you, I will take care of everything. And I can’t fathom that the other Councilors would argue with having my vote temporarily removed from matters of law.”     “No, I don’t image they will,” she said, a coy grin playing over her muzzle before she turned and made her way to the waterfall.     The light shimmered around her as she stepped inside once they parted ways, pausing for a moment while inside to allow Andrew time to reach his place before she stepped out onto the podium that overlooked the Seat of The Council. The moment she left the water, the room started to change. The peaceful wilderness setting melted away, rippling as walls seemed to solidify around the room. Elegant oriental craftsmanship flowed outward from her place at the head of the table, dark-toned wood in vibrant reds circling the table now. The curves and lines suited her, pleased her, as did the spires of the Zootopian flag that became her backdrop as she faced those on the Council.     Without Valter, there were now eight mammals sitting around the table. There was a sort of balance to it now, one that had not really existed before. Four foxes of various species, three representatives of the prey species, including the good Doctor Lyndon, and a lioness to balance the larger predator votes. They all grew still and silent with her appearance, whatever their species, and she looked over them with a cool eye. Like Valter, most of them still believed themselves to be far more important than they were on the road to remaking Zootopia. It was, perhaps, time that she gave them a small reminder of that.     “Good morning. It is a pleasure to see you all again,” she said, her voice pleasant enough as she swept her golden gaze over each one of them. Then her muzzle curved in a smile that was as cold and hard as those eyes as she nodded. “We have a lot to cover today. But let us begin by talking about the bunny.”  

As Sam sat in the backseat of the car, her stomach was in turmoil. She was starving even through all the embarrassment and excitement of the day. She tried to understand why she had ever been these girls' friend. She sat there pondering the beginnings of their friendships and how silly they were. For Sam and Anita, they were fifteen the first time they met. At the time, they had shared a hatred for Coach Prichard. He was an unruly dickhead, but he also bore witness to Anita's nudity more than once. Even then, it was no secret that Anita had an exhibitionist streak. Sam could clearly think back to one time about two months after she had met Anita. Anita came to Sam in the locker room while they were changing. "We're having a soccer game on the field today." Anita said standing over Sam who was tying her shoes. Anita was wearing a grey loose fitting t-shirt, her grey athletic shorts (They weren't much longer than her hips.), ankle socks and low top cleats. "Yeah, I hear the boys are pissed because we're cutting into football practice." Sam said in agreement now dressed in roughly the same outfit, but with knee high socks. Sam was putting her long brown hair into a pony tail but stopped dead in her tracks when Anita spoke. "I want you to try and pull me down to the ground by my shirt out there." Anita said suspiciously. "Why?" Sam inquired hesitantly. "Just do it okay?" Anita insisted. "Fine, whatever." Sam said as she made her way to the field, Anita following close to her. When they got to the field, it was muddy and on the outside of the field was the track where the guys were running. Not just a few guys either, it was all the high school guys. Freshmen all the way to seniors, the entire football entourage was there. They all quit running when the girls filed onto the field. Sure enough, Sam and Anita were put on the same team. Sam was actually nervous just playing soccer in front of all these guys in these skimpy attires. But somewhere after both teams had scored a goal in the second quarter, it happened. Sam and Anita were running side by side, Sam kicked the ball with great force sending it hurdling towards the goal, but lost her footing and grabbed Anita by the back of her shirt, just as she was asked. The shirt instantly gave way, but that wasn't the only thing, her shorts ripped into shreds with Sam's hand as well. Anita wasn't wearing anything underneath at first she acted like she did't notice and tried to help Sam get to her feet ignoring the many excited sounds from the guys watching. It wasn't until Sam said something that Anita tried in vain to cover up. Guys were all around the field, literally. If she covered her boobs and bush, her ass was bared, if she covered her ass her tits were bared. She alternated for a few moments until the girls huddled around her with the Coach and Ref. "Jesus Christ! What happened?"Coach Prichard said firmly. "Sam fell onto me and my clothes came off sir." Anita explained. "Why ain't you wearing any god damned underwear girl?" Coach Prichard yelled at her. "I don't like to get them all sweaty during P.E. sir." Anita explained, knowing how to talk to him, but still struggling to cover up. "Where's her damned clothes?" He bellowed. "Right here sir." Sam said holding up the pile of cloth she had picked up off the ground. Coach Prichard inspected the clothes and noticed several scissor cuts on the shirt at vital seems and a very obvious cutting of the elastic on her shorts. "Did you cut these to rip apart?" He asked in a tone that signified he couldn't believe what he was asking. "Yes sir." Anita replied with her head down now trying to cover her face as well. "Well, what do you think we should do now?" He asked with a scowl. "I don't know." She mumbled. "I should make you play out the rest of the game bareback." He said coldly and Anita shook her head no. "But, since you weren't alone, Sam give her your shorts and shirt. You can play in your underwear." "But, I didn't know anything about it, I just fell and grabbed her. I didn't know her clothes were coming off sir, honestly."Sam pleaded trying to get out of it. "Is this true?" He asked Anita who was glaring at me. "Yes sir." Anita said in fear. Coach Prichard grabbed her arm revealing her breasts. "We're going to the principal's office young lady. Coach Steiner, please take over." Prichard said while dragging Anita through the crowd of boys too quickly for her to be able to cover up. Sam didn't see her for the rest of the day, but Anita would tell her later that she had to ride home nude as well. She waited in the principal's office for an hour and a half for her parents and then got a good lecturing before they dragged her home. "Quit covering up bitch!" Anita's voice echoed from the front seat bringing Sam back to reality. Sam realized that she had instinctively covered her vital areas and she immediately dropped her hands to her side. "As a matter of a fact, tits on the glass." She added. Sam pressed her tits against the window again feeling the cold glass pressed against her tits and showing them to whomever could see them. That was until her window began rolling down. It rolled down until her tits hung out the window and then went back up until her tits were sitting on the window and hanging out it. "That's better." Anita said. Then she heard Sam's stomach growl. "Oh someone has never eaten breakfast huh? Don't worry we'll get something to eat before we get to the park. Pull into that Sonic." They pulled the little dodge neon into a Sonic on the right, they drove around once with Sam's tits hanging out the window, but couldn't find an empty stall. They pulled around and parked, there was a speaker on the patio with some picnic tables. There were some college boys there hanging out and eating. They were already focused on their car trying to figure out if those were really tits. Little did they know they would soon find out for sure. "Alright, go order me a number one, dry with no pickles, fries, and a drpepper to drink. And whatever you want." Anita said holding out a twenty dollar bill. Sam's heart began racing and pounding as she grabbed the twenty dollar bill. The college boys were already twisting around to see what was happening when her tits withdrew into the window. "Please. Don't make me do this, haven't I been through enough?" Sam pleaded. "Fuck No Bitch! My parents are getting a divorce over your little slutty ass. I could just take the money and leave your naked ass here." Anita said grabbing the twenty and Sam's hand. "No, Please No. I'll do it. I will."Sam said on the verge of tears. Anita released her. "Yeah, well good. Do it now and smile." Anita ordered. Sam put a forced smile on her face and opened the car door. Sam was immediately greeted with hoots and whistles when she exited the car, she knew this was a bad idea, but she didn't have much room to argue. The college guys were dumbfounded and just sat in shock as she approached the speaker. Her hand was shaking as she was sure the rest of her body was as she reached out and pressed the button to order. The carhops were zooming by not even looking at her; it must be way too busy to worry about her naked state. It seemed like an eternity to Sam, standing naked and not allowed to cover herself, but finally. "Welcome to Sonic, how may I help you?" Came a chipper voice from the speaker. "Um... I need a number one with no pickles, fries and a Dr. Pepper." She said nervously. "Would you like that large size?" The voice asked. "No thanks. I also need a Jr. Deluxe Burger and a large Coke." She said visibly shivering. "Alright I have a #1 with no pickles, fries, and a Dr. Pepper with a Jr. Deluxe Burger and a large Coke, can I get you any onion rings to go with that today?" The voice said back as the college boys were beginning to get curious. "No, that's all." Sam said again stuttering. "Okay, that'll be $9.41, and we'll have that right out." The voice exclaimed, leaving Sam feeling alone again, only this time the college boys were approaching her and surrounding her. "So, you got an order you'll be waiting on. Would you like some company while you wait?" One of the boys said. "No thanks guys, I'm kinda nervous." Sam said fidgeting about and standing on one foot then the other. "Well, you've got a great body. We're just kind of wondering why you're out here ordering in the nude." One of the other boys said. "I don't really have a choice."She said pointing towards the car and jumping as one of the guy's hands brushed her butt check. "Oh I get it. You're a pledge and this is initiation. What house?" The boy said. "Oh. Beta Pi. You know it." She said, digging into her repertoire of knowledge about the sororities on campus. Beta Pi was well known for very brutal initiation rituals. "Ah Shit. I know it, in that case boys we better back off. We'll ruin her chances. If I know Beta like I think I do, she isn't supposed to be blocked from the view of anyone and right now she's hidden by us." He said and immediately Sam regretted that decision. She hadn't realized how well they were shielding her until they all sat back down. There she was again out in the open and everyone in their cars were getting an eyeful now. Luckily, the guys had helped pass some time and a carhop came out the front doors. She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Sam. "Um.. You had a #1 with no pickles and a Jr. Burger?" She asked shocked at Sam's lack of attire. "Mmm-hmm." Was all Sam managed to get out as she reached to take the bag of food and drinks. Sam gave her the money and took the cash change telling her to keep the coins. She headed back to the car, she pulled on the back door handle but it was locked. Sam tapped on the passenger side window, Anita rolled it down. "Oh is that my order?" She said waiting for Sam to hand her the bag. Sam submissively handed the bag in along with Anita's drink. "Oh thanks." Anita said unlocking the doors and Sam was almost immediately in the back seat. She sat back and dove into her burger damn near breathing the whole thing in. It seemed like it was going to be a long day. Anita tossed a key back only this one was for her mailbox.

Sam sat quietly in the backseat hungrily eating her Junior Burger. She wanted to cry so badly, but she wouldn't let Anita have the satisfaction. Her little click would just love to see you crack and start crying. She looked at Sandy in the passenger seat for just a second before looking away quickly. She remembered what happened just last year when Sandy lost a bet with Anita. "No bitch! You said anything. You lost and that's all there is to it." Anita shouted at Sandy while standing in front of her open closet. "But Anita..." Sandy had started to say with sweat starting to form all over her naked black skin and in her short blonde dyed hair. "No! No! Don't even. I know your ass would have something equally demeaning in mind if I had lost. You wouldn't let me back out." Anita argued as she stepped out of the door revealing a hole had been cut in the closet door and motioned for Sandy to get inside the closet. "Alright, but don't let the party get out of control." Sandy said as she slowly got inside the closet, turned around, and got on her knees where a little pillow was on the floor. "Sure." Sandy said closing the door. Sam had gone to that party. It was one of the biggest parties Anita had ever thrown, probably due to the fact that Sandy was in the makeshift glory hole taking hot dicks to the throat. Sandy was a very well known lesbian, until that point Sam didn't think that Sandy had ever sucked a dick before. Sam remembered the uncountable number of guys went into that room throughout the night and well into the morning. Sandy must have sucked 50 dicks that night, most of them multiple times. Anita had just invited a shitload of guys from the rave to come to our AirBnB. 'Fuck!' Sam thought as she crumpled up her burger wrapper. "Tits out the window bitch!" Sandy said suddenly staring Sam up and down. 'Has she been ogling me this whole time?' Sam thought and quickly turned towards her open window. Sam once again felt the window roll up under her tits, only this time it was only to hold her tits up and out the window. It was down low enough that Sam could stare out the window. Sam hadn't realized that they were stopped at a light or that there was a convertible full of five guys right next to them until that moment. Sam almost instinctively pulled away. "Say hi bitch!" Anita said. "Hi." Sam squeaked barely audible. "They didn't hear you." Anita yelled. "HI!!" Sam yelled. "That's better slut!" Anita said just before the light changed and she drove away. Sam watched as they drove deeper into neighborhoods she didn't really know her way around. Finally, they arrived at a little park in the middle of a neighborhood. It was a small wooded area with a broken down playground. Gang signs painted on the small little bathroom with a men's room and a ladies' room. They pulled up in the parking lot and parked just by the bathrooms. Sandy and Anita quickly got out with Anita going straight to the trunk. Sandy opened the back door and pulled Sam's naked ass out of the car. "Walk bitch!" Sandy said shoving Sam forward. Sam reluctantly walked noticing that she was being shoved towards the bathrooms. Sandy shoved Sam into the men's room with Anita quickly catching up to them. "I had plenty of prep time whore, for your punishment." Anita said pushing Sam against the remains of the one bathroom stall in the room. The only thing left was the frame and the door, nothing covering the side at all. "Anita.." Sam started saying nervously, tears in her eyes. "It's far too late for that bitch! Thought it would be cute to try and fight back. You know I take what I want and you get what I let you have." Anita spat. "Fuck you bitch! You started this shit...." Sam had started saying, acting like she was going to fight. Sandy grabbed her by the throat and slammed the back of Sam's head against the little bar on the stall. "Please. Don't hurt me." Sam begged and Sandy eased her grip on her throat. Sandy slowly lowered Sam to the floor, on her knees. Anita went behind the stall and Sam felt her applying cuffs to her wrist and then there was some rope that Anita roped over the top of the busted up bathroom stall it pulled Sam up to this awkward height where she was squatting not able to fully get on her knees. Then she felt cuffs go around her legs and Sandy let Sam go. Sam couldn't lower herself to her knees and couldn't fully stand. Her hands and knees were cuffed around the bar and the rope that linked them was strung over the bathroom stall keeping her in this awkward squatting position. "Perfect!" Anita said, then she put something over Sam's head that hung down over her tits. It was a string that was through a crude cardboard sign. Sam looked down at the sign having trouble interpreting it upside down while Anita was planting a portable camera with a suction cup up in the corner. Anita was playing with her phone, lining up the camera's view to focus on Sam from just over Sam's shoulder. "Oh Fuck!!" Sam said. She had finally deciphered the sign that said, "FREE BLOWJOBS!!" "You're going to honor that until I come back. Cum on your face. Otherwise, I force you to swallow this and leave you to get raped over and over." Anita explained holding a handful of pills in her hand. Rohypnol. "Fuck!" Sam said, tears streaming down her face. "Really Nita.." "Yes! Fucking Really!! I'll be watching!!" Anita said pointing to the camera and dragging Sandy with her as she walked out. Sam heard the car doors slam shut and the car pull away. It was only like 4 PM as best as Sam could tell. 'She's kidding. She'll be back in a minute...' Sam tried to rationalize with herself as she heard male voices talking outside. 'Who the fuck are you kidding Sam?! She left you to suck cock until she feels like letting you go. She could just leave you forever.' Sam thought to herself. "You've got company whore. Act like you want it!" Sam heard Anita's voice through a speaker that must have been in the camera. Just then, three big black guys came strolling into the bathroom with a smoking cigar in one of their hands. "Yo! What the fuck?!" The first guy said. "Am I just fucking high?" "No. I'm real." Sam heard herself saying, feeling like it was coming from someone else. "For Real? That shit a valid offer!" One of the others said pointing to her sign. "Absolutely." Sam again heard herself saying. "Well fuck me guys, wait outside." The first guy said unzipping his pants. Sam watched him pull his huge cock out of his pants while his friends stepped outside. Sam actually felt herself lick her lips as she smelled his cock now growing closer to her open mouth. Was she really going to do this? 'Better than the other option.' She told herself and opened wide.

  Three years of life with Alexander, and Magnus could no longer tell what life without him looked like. Centuries of existence and a carefully cultivated lifestyle had been entirely dismantled and then promptly rearranged by his husband. Anywhere he looked, there were signs of Alec’s influence, whether it was photographs lining the wall or the Alicante skyline outside their window, whether it was the wedding ring on his finger, or the fact that it was now routine for him to drop the glamour over his eyes once he was back home. No one in Magnus’s life had taken the time or the consideration to carefully learn everything they could about him, no one had taken the effort to weave their life so intricately alongside his own the way Alec did. No one else knew him so entirely. Because Alexander might not know which city Magnus spent the middle of the 19th century in, what properties he owned or when Magnus had first set foot in New York. He might not know the pages upon pages of history storied neatly into the journals Magnus still had stashed away in his estate across the sea. It was after all quite impossible to share centuries of life in less than a handful of years. But Alec knew him, knew the drink he favoured when he was in the mood to dance and the scented oils he’d choose when he wanted to wash off a tiresome day. He knew to kiss Magnus goodnight and leave him be when he was particularly fascinated by a new translation he was working on, and to drag him forcefully to bed when exhaustion and magical depletion were chasing at his coattails after overworking himself. He knew when to wake him up with soft kisses and breakfast in bed and which Clave sanctioned dinners to sneak out of so they could ravish each other like horny teenagers. Alec knew Magnus, wholly, intimately and in all the ways that it mattered, and he continued in his efforts to learn more each day. His latest venture has been to learn Indonesian, something that had been kick started by Magnus himself after one particularly memorable night. In throes of passion, Magnus had accidentally reverted all the way back to the language of his mother and instead of being smug about managing that, Alexander had been curious. He was already used to Magnus’s whispers of ‘sayang’ or ‘cintaku’ in his ears, he was familiar with pressing the words ‘aku cinta kamu’ in gentle kisses to Magnus’s lips, but apparently, it was Magnus being verbose in bed that had gotten to Alexander. Of course the first time Alec had greeted Magnus with a stilted ‘Selamat datang di rumah cintaku’ , Magnus had been too endeared and though he’ll never admit it, a little choked up with emotion, at the best welcome home greeting he had ever received. Since then, Alec had picked up a few more phrases and Magnus had been quizzed more than once on the meaning of words Alexander was trying to learn. Magnus adored it of course, even in the initial days, when the words were slow and the pronunciation was butchered, Magnus had been too overwhelmed with fondness to do more than correct them with gentle kisses. And now, a few months in, Magnus was starting to get used to peppered phrases of his native tongue in between conversations, and especially in between the sheets – which was why, it made no sense for him to freak out this way now. The two of them were lounging in bed on a Sunday morning, Magnus resting on his side and  ardently pressing kisses up and down Alec’s captive hand while his shadowhunter tried to hold on to the last vestiges of sleep. His eyes were still closed though the smile stretching on his face was enough of an indication that he was indeed fully awake. “Saatnya bangun Alexander” Magnus murmurs, urging Alec into waking up, there were better ways to spend a morning in bed than pretending to sleep after all. Alec only hummed a little, his hands encircling Magnus and tugging him gently on top. Satisfied with getting his way, Magnus willingly leans down to press a proper kiss into Alec’s waiting mouth, reveling in the way they were both quick to lose themselves in it. “Selamat Pagi Cahayaku” Alec says into his mouth, opening his eyes just in time to see Magnus turn ashen and pull away, the words still ringing in his ears.    He doesn’t remember moving away, if anything he feels stuck as the sands of time flood over him, but he must have, because Alec is sitting up in bed now, a careful hand extended towards him and a frown marring his face. “Magnus?” Alec sounds concerned and Magnus absently wonders what expression his husband is seeing on his face, just how much shock is showing that makes Alexander looks at him with such worry. “Magnus what’s wrong?” Alec presses, but still seems hesitant to approach any closer, and God how long had it been since Alexander had been this careful with him? It would cast him back to those days when Magnus had first dropped his glamour, that body switch with Valentine, the first days his magic had been gone, but Magnus was lost further back in his own past to make those connections. “What  - what did you say?” He asks, voice tight and barely audible. Alec looks bewildered and lost as he blinks at Magnus, rearranging himself to scoot minutely closer while still keeping his distance. “Good morning?” he asks doubtfully, he’s said it hundreds of times in both languages after all. But Magnus is shaking his head before the words are even out of Alexander’s mouth “No, what did you call me?” It is the tremor in Magnus’s voice that finally has Alec reaching forward to properly touch him again, one hand cupping Magnus’s face gently, even as he thinks over his own sentence. “Cahayaku?” He repeats slowly, his eyes going wide when he hears Magnus keen almost mournfully in response. Even if he said it wrong, it would hardly be the first time he mispronounced a word, nothing about it should affect Magnus so. Alec rubs a soothing thumb over the apple of Magnus’s cheek, his voice gentling infinitely “What is it Magnus?” His own name is jarring to Magnus now, his mind torn between today and centuries past. The image of Alexander cradling his face, is almost superimposed by his mother doing the same to a much smaller version of him, and it brings tears unbidden into his eyes. “Please, please don’t cry” Alec begs, his other hand coming up to hold Magnus’s face, urgent in the need to wipe away the tears falling rapidly. “Ibu saya –“ The words catch in his throat and he corrects himself “My mother – she used to – she called me –“ Alexander stills, the ‘oh’ of acknowledgement silent as it falls from his lips. He seems to understand the gravity of what he had just said and doesn’t seem to know what to say next. Magnus for his part is still reeling and also speechless. “I’m sorry” Alec says after a few minutes of quiet “I won’t say it again” And that breaks Magnus’s heart even further, the simple withdrawal more than anything jolting him back into action as he hurries to grip the hands holding his face. “No – Alexander, you don’t understand” He says urgently, the words lapping over each other in his rush to somehow simplify the tumultuous ocean of feelings inside of him “She used to call me that because – it was my name. My birth name, it's Cahyo” Alec’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open in stunned surprised, before suddenly a wide smile stretches across his face and he is beaming at Magnus. “Cahyo” he says softly, surely, and it lands over Magnus’s heart like a solid punch “Of course, of course your name would mean light” There’s an almost joyous bark of laughter from Alec and he leans forward to kiss Magnus on the forehead, the love shining impossibly bright in his eyes that Magnus feels like he is drowning in it. Never in his life has he mentioned the name his mother gave him, not once has he spoken it in the centuries since. No one knows of it, not Ragnor, not Catarina, nobody alive except his father.  But here Alec was, having stumbled upon the very foundation of who Magnus was, with simple ease. “It suits you” He promises, the reassurance accompanied by another kiss to his cheek. And when Magnus is still too speechless, Alec pulls him into his chest, arms wrapped securely around him and allowing Magnus to hide away from the world in the crook of his neck. The two of them sitting there in silence with Magnus replaying the last words Alec had said that morning. “You are my light Magnus”    

Before   Sitting at the Gryffindor table at the Welcome Feast, Harry has his whole life ahead of him.   He’s only eleven, sure, and he might be too young for many things, but he catches sight of white-blonde hair and shining grey eyes and he knows.   “Someday,” he says, to Ron. “He’s going to be my husband.”   Ron looks over at the Slytherin table and wrinkles his nose.   “Malfoy?” he asks. “Why?”   They’ve been friends for all of six hours, so he doesn’t know that this is how most things happen in Harry’s life; he practically wills them into existence.   “I don’t know,” Harry says, because he can’t quite tell yet; he doesn’t know, he can’t explain it, but he knows his father went through a similar experience. Before he and his mom died when Harry was seven, he’d heard the story often.   “ I knew from the moment I saw her,”  James used to say to Harry every night, when Harry would ask for a bedtime story.  “Lily Evans was going to be my wife. Even if she didn’t know it herself.”  His mother would roll her eyes, kiss Harry’s temple.    “ Your father says he knew,”  she’d say. “But he couldn’t have. Those things don’t work like that.”   Harry had never quite known what to believe; on the one hand, James would wink at him and tell him he’d know too, one day, but Lily would tell him that there was no problem if he didn’t.   Harry hated the idea of not knowing immediately, of not having that kind of love, and it’s why he’d been so nervous about Hogwarts, no matter how Sirius or Remus tried to soothe him.   Now, looking at the blond, he knows.   “I’m going to marry him one day,” he repeats.    Ron shakes his head disbelievingly.   *  After  When Headmistress McGonagall places the Sorting Hat on his head, Scorpius ignores the whispers; he’s been doing so all his life.  Potter-Malfoy, huh?  The Hat’s voice seems to be only inside his head, and he tries not to jump in surprise; despite how much he’s been looking forward to this moment, how much he wants it, he doesn’t think he could ever quite be ready.  I remember your parents. Slytherin and Gryffindor, but where do  you  fit ?  Scorpius has been told he looks exactly like his dad; with the white-blonde hair and the fair skin, all he really has from his father is the green eyes, which everyone in the wizarding world recognizes as soon as they see him.  I want to be like my parents , he thinks, and the hat laughs quietly.  Doesn’t everyone ? It asks.  Scorpius swallows; their story is legendary, told to children before bed, talked about in the streets. The way they hated each other, the way they fell in love.   The way they died.  Scorpius doesn’t want to be like them because of that; he doesn’t care about the secrets, he doesn’t care about the power and the whirlwind of romance and greatness, he wants to be like them because they were honorable, because they were  good .  Because they protected him at all costs, with their lives, because they knew what they wanted, and Scorpius doesn’t have the smallest clue.  “SLYTHERIN!” The Hat calls out. The Slytherin table erupts in cheers, and, before McGonagall moves, it speaks to him again.  You’re going to get as far as you want to.   McGonagall whisks the hat off his head.  *  Before   “Oi, Malfoy.” Harry’s grinning, resting on his broom, mid-air, while the rest of the team practice; he’s Gryffindor’s youngest seeker in a century, and he’s already caught the Snitch, which means he’s enjoying his time watching the people in the stands. “What are you reading?”   Malfoy looks up at him, unimpressed. “How to Get Unbearable Gryffindor Gits to Stop Talking to You.”   Harry’s grin only widens. “How is it working for you?”   “Not well,” Malfoy says drily. “I thought I’d have less interruptions here than in the library, but clearly, I was wrong.”   “Right, less interruptions,” Harry says. “So it’s nothing to do with the view?”   Malfoy snorts, picking up his things and shoving his bag onto his shoulder. “In your dreams, Potter.”   “In my dreams  you’re  the view!” Harry calls after him.   Malfoy throws a jinx over his shoulder, and Harry yelps as it hits him in the face.   *   After  He writes home to Teddy, Sirius, and Remus; he knows Teddy wanted him to be sorted into Hufflepuff, and though Sirius and Remus pretend not to care, they wanted him to be in Gryffindor; after all, his father was, too.  “Quit moping.” Rose nudges him when she sees him in the hall; she’s a year older, and if Scorpius isn’t at home he can always be found at the Weasleys’, in Rose’s room, probably in some sort of contest of  who can name more Astrology book titles . “I thought this was what you wanted.”  “It was,” he says. It’s not that he  didn’t  want it, it’s just – at home, everyone is used to him; they know he’s a huge nerd, that he’s shy, that he needs glasses but forgets them more often than not, that he’s allergic to nuts and cacao and that he has dragon slippers that roar when he walks. Here, people either ignore him – which he’s fine with – or stare at him like he’s some all-powerful wizard because of what happened when he was a baby.  He doesn’t feel all-powerful.  “Then what’s the problem?” she asks, because she can always tell; they’ve been best friends for practically their entire lives, it’s insulting for him to think he can hide things from her.  “There’s no problem,” he lies. The problem is that he can’t stop thinking about his parents, about the fact that they were here, where he is, and if he concentrates he can almost imagine them next to him.  Rose smacks the back of his head. “Don’t get too lost in your own head.”  *  Before   “You can’t know you’re going to marry him,” Hermione says, in their second year when Harry explains it to her.   “You can give it up,” Ron tells her. “I’ve been trying to tell him that for a  year .”   “I just know,” Harry says, ignoring Ron.    “But you can’t  know ,” Hermione insists.    “You’re going to take that back when you’re invited to our wedding,” Harry tells her, and she rolls his eyes.   “Okay,” she says. “ If  you and Malfoy get married, I'll take it back.”   *   After  Scorpius sits in front of the mirror of Erised for what feels like an eternity or two. There are a lot of things he doesn’t remember about his parents; their voices, for one, or the way he’s been told his father used to sing when he cooked, but he’d know their faces with his eyes closed.  There are old home movies, soundless; his favorite one is the video of his first time in a ferry, in his dad’s arms while his father filmed. He's watched it enough times he could recreate it in his sleep, the way his dad grinned, the kiss his father pressed to his forehead before sitting next to him and waving at the camera, so he recognizes them in the mirror before he recognizes himself.  His dads, hand in hand, standing beside him like they were always meant to, standing next to each other like a choice they made, over and over, even if it got them killed. Scorpius wonders if they’d do it differently, if they could.  “I love you,” he says, a little uselessly, a little hopelessly. “And I wish you were here.”  His dad puts a hand on his shoulder, and Scorpius can almost swear they are.  *  Before   Remus starts teaching at Hogwarts during Harry’s third year, and he catches on quickly.   “Is that him?” he asks Harry one day after class; Harry’s told them all about Draco, but until then neither he nor Sirius had met him.   “Yes,” Harry says. “I’m going to marry him.”   Remus snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t know how you know.”   “But I know,” Harry says.   “I know you do,” he says. “Your dad did, too.”   Harry grins.   “Try not to annoy him too much, yeah?” Remus tells him. “That was your dad’s technique, and it worked in the end, but I think something different might be faster.”   Harry blinks. “Like what?”   “I don’t know.” Remus shrugs. “Give him flowers.”   *   After  Professor Quirrell tries to kill Scorpius by the end of the year, and somehow, that’s not the biggest one of his professor problems. His biggest problem is that Professor Zabini, the Potions Master and the head of Slytherin, absolutely  hates  him. Scorpius almost fails Potions! And okay, he’s not as good as his dad – he doesn’t think anyone is, sincerely, since he was the youngest potions master until he died – but he loves to read, and he loves school, and he never,  ever  almost fails.  Anything .  Rose tells him not to worry about it, but Scorpius ignores her. If  she  almost failed something, she’d have a stroke or something similar, he’s sure. If he told her to calm down during it, she’d probably curse him, so she can keep her ‘ calm down’ s to herself.  She doesn’t appreciate him telling her so, but Scorpius doesn’t particularly care.  *  Before   His friends have a bet; Ron says Malfoy will send the flowers back to Harry – most likely in pieces – and Hermione says he’ll abandon them or throw them at Harry’s face.    They hear later from a first-year Slytherin that he incendioed them when they arrived to the Slytherin common room.   “Told you,” Ron says smugly, when, later, Harry gets an envelope with ashes.   Harry doesn’t let that deter him.   “You got my flowers,” he says, jumping down from the windowsill he’d been sitting on.   Malfoy flinches, and then turns to him, glaring.   “Yes, I did,” he says, cheeks red.   “You didn’t like them?” Harry asks him.   “Like?” Malfoy looks at him incredulously. “ Like?  Potter, what the fuck were you thinking?”   “It was suggested that flowers might get my point across better than our usual bickering.”   “And what point is that?”   “That you’re going to marry me some day.”   Malfoy’s face goes even redder, and he steps on Harry’s foot before turning and walking out.   *   After  When Scorpius goes back home for the summer, he’s greeted with open arms.  “You’ll need to tell us everything,” Sirius tells him. Scorpius knows he wasn’t meant to hear, but the Halloween he was six – the fifth anniversary of his parents’ death – Sirius and Remus were sitting in front of the fire drinking firewhiskey, and he heard them say no one was ever meant to raise their baby’s baby. That it was a special kind of sorrow.  He tries not to think about it, because he knows they love him, but he also knows they’re right; he’s seen the way their eyes go misty when something he does reminds them of his father.  “Nothing really happened,” he says, shrugging. “I almost failed Potions.”  “Who teaches you?” Remus asks, grabbing his trunk from him.  “Blaise Zabini,” Scorpius tells them.  Teddy frowns. “He was pretty fair with me.”  And the thing is, Scorpius knows he’s been fair with everyone else, too; Rose is half in love with him, and he’s not  unfair  to Scorpius, per se, but he seems to  loathe  him and he doesn’t understand why, which makes him nervous, which makes his Potions less than stellar.  He’s not going to ask why he loathes him, either, because any time he looks at him, Zabini seems to hate him a little more.  “Don’t think about him.” Sirius waves it away. “And I was asking about the letter we got that you had been in an accident?”  “Oh, that,” Scorpius says. “It was nothing. Voldemort tried to come back with the Philosopher’s Stone, and Rose and I went through insane trials to get to the mirror of Erised, and then Voldemort tried to kill me, but Rose had gone to get Dumbledore, so-”  It takes him a minute to realize his family has stopped walking.  “What?” he asks, disoriented.  Sirius and Remus are staring at him like they’ve seen a ghost, and Teddy is looking anywhere but at him.  “What?” he asks again.  “Nothing.” Sirius is the first to recover. “Nothing, just – that name is not said so freely in the Wizarding World, Scorp. And – just – nothing.”  He tries to give him a reassuring smile, but it’s even less convincing than his words.  *  Before   Malfoy’s best friend is Blaise Zabini. They’ve practically grown up together, known each other since they were four, consider each other brothers. They spend every summer together in Zabini’s house, since Malfoy’s parents visit France.    Hermione says it’s creepy for Harry to know that, but he ignores her.   “Holy fucking-” Zabini flinches when Harry appears in front of him when he’s on his way to the Slytherin common room. “Potter, get the fuck out of my way.”   People say Zabini’s mother, who’s ‘the most beautiful and enthralling witch in Britain’, if witnesses are to be believed, is a seer, and that he’s got some of it, too. Harry doesn’t think he does, if this is any indication.   “I’m not going to do that,” he says. “Did Malfoy like my flowers?”   “He Incendioed them.” Zabini looks at him disbelievingly.    “But before he did,” Harry says. “Did he like them?”   Zabini looks like he’s considering cursing him, so before he can do so, Harry continues talking.   “Because if not, I know other kinds of flowers,” he says. “Glowing sunflowers, or singing peonies-”   “Oh, yes,  please  send him singing peonies,” Zabini says, amused glint in his eyes and smirk on his face. “He’d  love  that.”   Harry’s pretty sure that’s a lie, but he nods resolutely anyway.   *   After  In Scorpius’s second year, when the Chamber of Secrets is opened and Lilianne Crabbe declares Mudbloods will die, Scorpius gets letters from Sirius and Remus, Teddy, his grandma Molly, his uncle Ron, and his aunt Hermione.  Everyone tells him not to be scared – Teddy asks him if he wants to come home, half teasingly, but Scorpius knows he’d come get him in a heartbeat if he said yes – but his aunt Hermione doesn’t; she tells him to be careful, which, to him, sounds like she believes at least  some  of the rumors going around about mythical monsters and Muggleborn murders.  She sends over pages of research, and before Scorpius has had time to go through it all, Rose has done some of her own.  “Look at this,” she tells him, hair bushier than normal because she had double-potions. She shoves a thick book towards her. “No book specifies what the monster in the chamber is, exactly, but there are a few ideas-”  Scorpius only half-listens to the rest of the explanation, wondering what he’d do without her; though everyone keeps telling him to wait, that it’ll eventually happen, it’s become pretty clear to him that he’s not interested in men, or women, or anyone, really, in a romantic or sexual manner.   Rose, however, is his best friend; he’d spend the rest of his life with her without batting an eye, their banter or easy silence more than enough for him to be happy.  “Are you even paying attention?” Rose rolls her eyes at him, and he blinks.  “Yes,” he says.  She rolls her eyes and throws a muggle pen at him.  *  Before   “Singing peonies?” Malfoy slaps his hands down on the Gryffindor table, and Harry grins up at him.   “Cute, right?”   “Singing peonies?” Malfoy is seething. “What in all bloody hell were you thinking, Potter? They arrived in the middle of Potions!”   Ron stifles a laugh against the back of his hand; he’d love to have seen Snape’s face.   “You didn’t like the others.” Harry shrugs.    Malfoy looks at him disbelievingly. “And you thought I'd like  singing peonies ?”   Harry grins up at him, and Malfoy’s face turns a deeper shade of red.   *   After  Scorpius survives Voldemort a second time, against all odds. Hugo nearly dies, but he and Rose pull him out of the chamber, and, afterwards, Madam Pomfrey says he’s going to make a full recovery.  Sirius, Remus, and Teddy all show up to pick him up at King’s Cross, just like last year, and Remus kisses the top of his head when he sees him.   “Don’t make almost dying a habit, please,” he murmurs against the top of his head. “My dear old heart can’t take it.”  Sirius elbows his ribs. “Your ‘dear old heart’ is in perfect shape, Moony, don’t be melodramatic.”  Remus elbows him back. “Says you, who was openly sobbing about it not two hours ago.”  They begin to bicker, and Teddy throws an arm around Scorpius’s shoulders.  “Don’t get yourself killed, huh, kid?” he says quietly. “Too many people have died already.”  *  Before   Harry masters his Patronus at thirteen, thanks to Remus’s teaching, but they don’t actually see it in school until fourth year. All of it is theoretical, of course. They're not expected to be able to do the spell until sixth or seventh year.   Harry reads about it: Patronuses matching, if two people are meant for each other. He's sure Malfoy’s Patronus will match his, but he’ll have to keep guessing, since Malfoy refuses to even try the spell in class, color high on his cheeks.   “I can tutor you,” Harry offers him, when class is over.    “You,” Malfoy deadpans. “Tutoring me.”   “Don’t be a prick,” Harry says mildly, and Malfoy smirks; it’s true that he has much better grades than Harry does, but no one is quite as good as Harry is in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Malfoy’s smart enough to know that, whether or not he likes it. “I’ll tutor you. I can do a Patronus since last year.”   “You can?” Malfoy, for the first time, actually looks a little bit intrigued, and Harry grins.   He waves his wand, and, sure enough, his Patronus slowly forms a stag, which then runs around the room before stopping in front of Malfoy; open-mouthed, bright-eyed Malfoy.   “Potter, that’s gorgeous,” Malfoy says, before he can stop himself.   Harry grins, and Malfoy looks away, uncomfortable.    “Don’t be weird about it,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I know how to recognize talent when I see it.”   “I’m sure you do,” Harry says smoothly, and before Malfoy can do anything, he kisses his cheek and walks out the door, leaving him gaping behind him.   *   After  In Scorpius’s third year, Pansy Parkinson escapes Azkaban. Sirius writes him no less than half a dozen letters telling him not to interact with her if he ever sees her, and he doesn’t understand why he thinks he would.  He gets it later, when he and Rose overhear Headmistress McGonagall explaining that Parkinson ended up in Azkaban for betraying his parents, selling them out to Voldemort.   Scorpius doesn’t feel like he can breathe.  And then.  And  then .  He meets her.  And Theodore Nott.  “He was our friend!” She’s crying, tears and snot dripping down her face, but the wand she’s pointing at Nott is unflinching. “He was a  brother  to me, Theo, how could you-”  “He married Potter!” Nott spits out the name like it’s physically hurting him. “He married Potter, he had a son! You knew the prophecy-”  “But he didn’t!” Parkinson screams. “The Dark Lord didn’t until you told him you unbelievable piece of-”  The light from the spell Nott casts is blinding, but Parkinson is the most impressive dueler Scorpius has seen in his life, because she counters it wordlessly; it’s quick, it’s bright, and it’s brutal, and when it’s over, a body hits the floor.  “I never would’ve betrayed your parents,” Parkinson tells him, staring emptily down at Nott’s lifeless body. “I never would’ve done that to Draco.”  She moves in – secretly – with Sirius and Remus not two weeks later.  *  Before   Harry tutors Malfoy when he has trouble with his Patronus. Remus winks at him when he tells him about it, and Harry can’t help but feel quite giddy, too. It's the first time Malfoy’s asked for his help in anything, and Harry can already tell this is where it starts.   “You need to concentrate on a happy memory,” Harry tells him, frowning, when the light from Malfoy’s wand extinguishes once more.   “How am I supposed to think of something happy right now?” Malfoy snaps at him, hand running through his hair. Harry is quiet; though they’ve only done this three times before, Malfoy had been getting better, not worse. This is definitely worse.   “Why not?” Harry asks.   Malfoy looks at him disbelievingly. “Have you heard nothing of what’s happening out there Potter?”   Of course Harry has; Sirius and Remus talk about it in hushed tones, about ‘Death Eaters’ about someone who’s named himself Voldemort. He's murdering muggles and Muggleborns.    Harry knows it’s building up to something, and the Ministry’s doing nothing.   “Why are you worried?” he asks, instead of answering.   Malfoy can’t quite look at him, and Harry wracks his brain.   Cousin Cissy,  Sirius had sneered, when Harry had first mentioned Malfoy,  and her Blood Purist husband, as in-laws. Delighting.  “Have your parents joined him?” Harry asks. “Voldemort?”   Malfoy’s jaw clenches, and he swallows, looks away.   That’s as good answer as any.   *   After  In Scorpius’s fourth year, he almost dies twice. Once, when he’s entered in the Triwizard Tournament, the youngest competitor in the history of the game, and the second time when he tries to ask Rose to the Yule Ball.  “Not as - a date or anything.” He stumbles both over his words and over his feet, and he’d fall on his face if it weren’t the fact that Rose grabs the back of his jumper to stop him. “Thanks. As friends. I don’t feel anything for you that way.”  She throws a look at him and he winces.  “I don’t mean that you’re not – you deserve to have people in love with you, and I'm sure you do, I just - I don’t - I don’t feel anything like that, for anyone, and – you're like a sister, and-”  “I’ll go to the ball with you, Scorpius.” She laughs and then winks at him. “And don’t worry. You're like a brother, too. We could never date.”  He feels the knot of anxiety loosen in his chest.   “Thank you,” he says.  “But you better pick me up at seven sharp,” she says, nose high in the air. “And you better  look nice . I’ll take nothing less than a gentleman.”  He grins goofily at her. “As you should.”  *  Before   Harry tries not to think too hard about what they are; Malfoy’s been stressed about his family, about Voldemort, and apparently, the way he’s dealing with that is by snogging Harry.   “Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks between kisses, as he usually does.   “No,” Malfoy says, as he usually does.   They’re lying in Harry’s bed, with the curtains closed with a sticking charm and no less than three silencing charms around them, and Harry’s been okay with this the last two dozen times, he really has been, but this time he feels tears against his cheeks and he can’t help but pull away.   “Are you okay?” he asks, because Malfoy is rubbing at his eyes furiously.    “I’m fine,” Malfoy snaps at him. “Just - kiss me again.”   Harry doesn’t worry about what they are, because he knows they’re going to get married. He doesn’t worry about labels. He worries about Malfoy, though.   “Tell me what’s wrong,” Harry says gently.   “Stop, Potter,” Malfoy snaps. “We’re not  friends . We’re not in a relationship. Stop caring about me.”   “I’ll always care about you,” Harry says honestly. “And I think you want me to, too. Tell me what’s wrong.”   “Are you going to kiss me again?” Malfoy asks.   Harry shales his head, and Malfoy’s lips purse.   “Fine,” he snaps. “Have a good day then.”   And he leaves, not bothering with Ron’s incredulous look when he slips out of Harry’s bed in the middle of the afternoon.   *   After  “Umbridge is a bloody arsehole.” Rose drops herself next to him in the Great Hall, and Scorpius nearly flinches; he was immersed on his book about Dark Magic, because Voldemort is back – the mass murderer who killed his parents is  back  - and the Ministry is doing nothing about it. “She’s teaching the most ridiculous, unbelievably tame and censored Defense Against the Dark Magic course I've taken in my  life . I  hate  her.”  “Yeah,” Scorpius mutters distractedly. “I do, too.”  Rose rolls her eyes at him. “What are you doing?”   Scorpius looks at her, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I need to talk to Headmistress McGonagall.”  *  Before   Harry finds Malfoy in the hidden corridor behind the largest tapestry in the castle; he has the Marauders Map to thank for it.   “No one’s seen you all day,” he says.   Malfoy doesn’t look up from where he has his head between his knees. He's clutching a newspaper in his hand.   “What happened?” Harry asks, for what feels like the thousandth time.   Malfoy exhales shakily and extends the paper to him.   Harry, surprised, takes it.   DEATH EATER ATTACK ON EASTERN MUGGLE VILLAGE. THREE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN MISSING, SEVENTEEN DEAD, AND THOUSANDS TERRIFIED.   Harry sits next to Malfoy.   “My father was there,” Malfoy says, muffled.   Harry swallows. “Is he okay?”   He doesn’t really care, but he thinks Malfoy might. He’s proved wrong when Malfoy laughs sharply.   “Okay?” Malfoy echoes. “ Okay ? He could’ve died there, Potter, and he’d deserve it.”   “He would,” Harry agrees. “It doesn’t mean you’d have to feel good about it.”   Malfoy finally pulls his head from his knees, if only to glare at Harry.   “I hate you,” he says, eyes brimming with tears. “I hate you, you always – you always know, you say you’re going to marry me, you say we’re going to be friends, you perform a bloody Patronus at thirteen, anything you want is yours and it’s not fucking fair!”   “I wish you didn’t have to go through this,” Harry says quietly. “I want for this not to happen. I’m not getting that.”   Malfoy kisses him again, and this time, Harry doesn’t stop him because of the tears.   *   After  Remus and Sirius have been talking about it in whispers; Scorpius knows they think he doesn’t hear, but he does; he’s heard all of it.  “I want to join the Order of the Phoenix,” he tells Headmistress McGonagall. It draws her up short.  “What?” she asks him.  “I know about the Order,” he says. “I read it. My father had a picture.”  McGonagall’s lips are tight. “You are underage, Mr. Potter-Malfoy.”  She’s the only one who calls him by both of his last names; everyone else only bothers with Potter.  “So?” he asks boldly. “I’m the Chosen One. This is supposed to be my job.”  “You are a child,” McGonagall says. “It was never supposed to be a child.”  “He killed my parents!” Scorpius yells, before he can stop himself. “Because of him, I have nothing.”  McGonagall levels him with an unwavering glare.  “Tell that to Miss Granger-Weasley,” she says coolly. “Tell that to Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black. To Edward.”  Scorpius looks away guiltily. “They know I have to do this.”  “They’re your family,” McGonagall tells him. “And I need you to listen to me when I say that no one regrets the death of Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter like I do. I watched them grow up, I watched them fall in love, and I watched them die long before it was their time to, and that is something I'd never wish upon anyone. But you are a child, Mr. Potter-Malfoy, and I will not let you fight this war.”  He leaves her office feeling more helpless than he felt when he went in it.  *  Before   Their graduation is a quiet affair, filled with equal parts joy and dread because nothing is free of its own form of sorrow, not lately. Draco and Harry take a walk to Hogsmeade, holding hands, just to hear the silence, until Draco stops walking.   “Something is off,” he says.   “What is it?” Harry asks, readying his wand.   “Something is-”   A figure steps out of the shadows, and Draco’s wand is in his hand in seconds.   “Mr. Malfoy,” a cold, deep voice says. “Mr. Potter.”   The hood falls back, and though Harry has never seen Voldemort before – no one but his most loyal followers has – he knows who he is immediately.    “A pleasure to finally meet you.”   “I can’t say the pleasure is mutual,” Harry says coldly, squeezing Draco’s hand tighter.   “I don’t tolerate such disrespect from my followers,” Voldemort says, colder than Harry. There’s a tense pause. “But, I suppose, I can make an exception. Just this once.”   “What do you want?” Draco’s throat is too dry.   “I want you to join me.” Voldemort spreads his hands, dark wand glinting on the inside of his sleeve, in easy reach. Draco isn’t stupid enough to think them seeing it is a coincidence. “Be a part of our cause. We’re going to rule the world.”   “No,” Draco says, before Harry can. “Never.”   “No one turns me down.” Voldemort is looking at him dangerously. “No one says no to me and survives.”   Harry sees hooded people slipping out from the shadows, and before he can think about it, he squeezes Draco’s hand tighter and apparates them away.   They stumble into Sirius’s and Remus’s, who immediately stand, making everyone else silent.   “Harry, Draco.” Molly laughs nervously. “We weren’t expecting you so soon.”   The house is deadly quiet, which means Teddy must be with someone else for the night; he’s just three months old, Harry’s little brother, and he loves him. He's glad he’s not here for this.   “We want to join the Order,” Draco says. “Now.”   Everyone looks at Harry. “You’ll need any help you can get.”   “Yes,” Mad-eye Moody says gruffly. “We will.”   *   After  The Order of the Phoenix is reinstated, Scorpius knows. He also knows that he is banned from it. He has a long, loud argument about it with Remus and Sirius.  “My dads joined!” Scorpius snaps angrily. “They helped!”  “And look where that got them!” Sirius rarely raises his voice, but he does now. “Look where that got them, Scorpius! In an early grave, leaving their one-year-old  alone !”  “They died for what was right!”  “They died for  you!”  Remus exclaims. “They died to keep you safe, to make sure you would have a long, happy life-”  “I can’t have a long happy life while innocent people out there are dying!”  “Innocent people are  always  dying,” Sirius snaps. “And you cannot save every one of them.”  “I can  try,”  Scorpius says. He looks desperately at Pansy, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine in her hand. “I should be a part of this.”  Her lips purse. “Your dads wanted to protect you. Draco and Potter died to protect you.”  Scorpius leaves the room without another word.  *   Before   Blaise sees it on a cloudless November day. He's staring at the sky, and it’s suddenly in front of him, the baby in the crib, the bright flash, Draco’s body on the ground.   He lurches forward, throat convulsing as he vomits everything he had for breakfast until he’s heaving, stomach empty but head still spinning; his mother – a seer, experienced, used to it – doesn’t have a hard time after her visions, but Blaise doesn’t get them often, and when he does, he usually needs a few minutes to recover.   He needs more than that after seeing his best friend’s lifeless body on the ground.   Before he knows it, he’s apparated to Draco and Potter’s, and he’s knocking on the door before he can stop himself.    You never,  ever  tell someone about their death,  his mother used to say to him, when he was little and still unused to it.  It never brings anything good, and you can never stop it .   Blaise needs to make an exception.   “Zabini.” Potter sounds a little surprised when he opens the door, and he scratches his ribs, looking around. “Everything okay?”   “I need to talk to Draco,” Blaise says.   Potter looks at him and then lets him in wordlessly, not questioning him; he’s learned not to, by now. Draco’s and Blaise’s friendship is something no one else really understands, and Potter’s stopped trying.   He finds Draco up in his lab, and he closes the door, uncaring that Potter had been right behind him.    “Well, fuck you, too, Zabini!” Potter calls from behind the door.   Blaise ignores him.   “Draco,” he says.   “Give me a minute.” Draco’s concentrated in what he’s brewing, as he always is. It's just been two years since they left Hogwarts: two years of the Order, two years of his Potions Mastery, two years of living with Potter and being  happy .   Blaise hopes that’s enough to convince him to keep him alive.   “Draco,” Blaise repeats, heart pounding.   “I can’t stop stirring, Blaise.”   “ Draco .”   Draco ignores him.   “Draco!” Blaise snaps, snatching the ladle he’s stirring with from his hand.   “Stop, you’ll ruin it!” Draco finally looks at him, and draws up short. “What happened?”   With a wave of his hand, the fire underneath the cauldron dims, and the ladle begins stirring by itself, even though Draco insists doing things by hand is what makes his potions so effective.   “You’re going to die,” Blaise says.   Draco blinks, evidently unsettled, but he perches himself on his table and crosses his arms, shrugging uneasily. “We’re all going to die.”   “You’re going to  die ,” Blaise repeats. “Soon. If you have a baby.”   Draco stares at him.    “This isn’t funny,” he says.   “I’m not joking,” Blaise responds.   Draco clenches his jaw. “Harry told you we had a pregnancy scare, didn’t he? Is that what this little joke is about? He's getting me back?”   “Merlin, Draco, no!” Blaise snaps. “Listen to me. If you have a baby, you will  die.”  He doesn’t know how it’s connected yet, can’t really explain it, but he knows the baby has something to do with it. The person who killed Draco wanted to get to the baby, and Draco was only in the way, only an inconvenience.    He can’t let Draco die like that.   “Leave Potter,” Blaise pleads. “Don’t adopt. I don’t care, just don’t, don’t have a baby, don’t die for them, Draco, please-”   “Stop,” Draco tells him. “No. I don’t want to hear it.”   “Draco-”   “Your mother always says you can’t change what’s going to happen after you’ve seen it.”   “She’s wrong,” Blaise snaps desperately. “She has to be.”   Draco doesn’t look at him as he throws him out of his lab.   *   After  “I need your help.”  “You’ve got it.” Rose doesn’t even ask what he needs help with.  “Voldemort created Horcruxes,” he says.  Someone left a note of it in his potions book. He doesn’t know who, and he doesn’t know how they knew, but he knows he needs to figure out who it was, and why they’re helping him. The adults don’t want them to be a part of it, he knows, and he also knows he’s in his sixth year, which means Rose is on her seventh year and it’s their last year here together. They need to figure things out  now .  “I don’t really understand what they are,” he admits. “But I need to figure out how to use them against him.”  “Let’s start looking, then,” she says.  *  Before   Blaise knows what’s happened when Draco can’t quite look him in the eyes.   “You’re pregnant,” he says, disbelievingly.   Draco clenches his jaw. “Yes.”   Blaise stares at him. It’s always been them; Blaise-and-Draco, joined at the hip since they were four years old, Blaise-and-Draco, staying up late at night talking about the universe because even though neither of them wanted to admit it, they were just kids and terrified not too long ago, and hypotheticals were always much better than reality, for either of them; Blaise-and-Draco, eyes shining at Draco’s wedding because even if Blaise doesn’t particularly like Potter, anything that makes Draco happy is worth it on his list, Blaise-and-Draco, inseparable until death, never meant to be apart.   He was never meant to live without the only person who understood the deepest, most twisted parts of him and the most ridiculous, silly ones and doesn’t judge him for any of them.   “I’m happy about it,” Draco says, carefully. “So is Harry. Even if the circumstances aren’t ideal.”   They aren’t, not with a war coming.   “Did you tell Potter?” he asks. “About what will happen?”   Draco glares at him. “No. And you won’t, either.”   Blaise says, “I won’t promise that.”   *   After  “It’s not your fault.” Zabini’s voice sounds hollow.  “What?” Scorpius asks, frantically trying to remember where he put his wand; he doesn’t think the professor will hurt him, not really, but at the same time, it’s more than a little disquieting to wake and find him staring at him in his dorm while everyone else is asleep.  “It’s not your fault,” Zabini repeats, louder. “I saw what was going to happen - I told Draco he was going to die because of you. He ignored me.”  Scorpius swallows, mind racing. His parents – they’d known?  “I told him to get rid of you.” Zabini’s looking at him like he’s never seen him before. “I told him to leave Potter. I didn’t - I wanted him to live. He was my best friend, he was everything.”  Rose is Scorpius’s best friend, and there’s nothing romantic between them; that doesn’t matter. He can’t imagine his life without her, his wedding, his eventual children not knowing her, her existence, deleted from the world except for the people who’d remember her, him, always mourning.   He'd never get over that.  He’d never get over her.  “You should’ve made him.” It takes Scorpius a moment to realize it’s he who talked; if he knew something was going to lead to Rose’s death, if he couldn’t stop it – what would he do?  Die with her , he thinks in a daze. It’s always been them, Scorpius-and-Rose, joined at the hip since she saw his little baby face, Scorpius-and-Rose, reading until dawn and quizzing each other because they’d be damned if there was anything they didn’t know, Scorpius-and-Rose, entering the Chamber of Secrets for Hugo because he’s Rose’s annoying little brother and she’d die before anything happened to him, and if Rose is dead then Scorpius is dead, too.  He doesn’t know how to exist without her.  He thinks, from Zabini’s expression, he knows exactly what he’s thinking.  “And have him be unhappy for the rest of his life?” he asks. “That’s its own kind of death, and if Draco was going to die I was not going to be the one to do it.” Scorpius swallows. “And now I look at you, and – it's like I'm seeing a ghost, every day. And then you almost  died  today and - I hate you, Potter, but Draco’s going to have my head the moment I die if I let anything happens to you. That’s why. I know you’ve been wondering.”  Why I hate you. Why I can’t look at you. Why nothing you do will ever be good enough, why I could never grow to care about you, why everything has to be cold and bloodless and calculating.   Scorpius doesn’t think knowing the answer makes him feel better.  “You need to stop what you’re doing,” Zabini tells him. “I told you about the Horcruxes to warn you, not to lead you to your death.”  Scorpius has never really known how to do what’s best for his own good; he’s told he gets that from his father.  *  Halloween, Godric’s Hollow   When it happens, Harry’s standing on the stairs, kissing his husband’s lips with Scorpius Harry Potter-Malfoy up in his crib.    The explosion by the door is deafening.   “Leave.” He thinks he’s saying it; his ears are ringing too much to hear himself, but he thinks he’s saying it as he clumsily pushes Draco up the stairs. “Leave, I'll hold him back. Grab Scorpius, run!”   “Harry, I love you.”    It’s the last thing he hears; there’s flashes afterwards, light, and spells, and Harry keeps up more than well enough, but eventually, there’s a green flash and his body hits the floor.   There’s two matching green flashes in Scorpius’s bedroom a few minutes later, but only one is successful.   *   The Final Battle, Forbidden Forest  Scorpius dies in the Forbidden Forest, and just for a few minutes, he gets to see his parents. He's never seen them before, not like this.  “Did I do enough?” he asks them, because they’re looking at him with so much love and sorrow he can’t tell which is caused by him and which is felt for him.  “You did more than anyone could’ve reasonably asked,” Draco tells him. He grabs his cheeks and kisses the top of his head, and then Harry kisses his temple. “You did more than you should’ve been responsible for.”  “We’re proud of you,” Harry tells him, and then Scorpius is alive, again, and there’s Hogwarts and Headmistress McGonagall and Teddy throws him his wand and Voldemort is dead, once and for all.  Scorpius feels like he can finally be his own person.     

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Sae-byeok stiffens. Ji-yeong is both smart and slightly irritating, seeming to know which questions will and won't prod her. It doesn't make the air any lighter. Still, she thinks she'd rather be here with her than anyone else. There's more tension and the foreboding of death around the corner in the air than oxygen, but Sae-byeok hasn't ever kissed anyone, so she shakes her head no. Ji-yeong laughs. For a moment, Sae-byeok thinks she's being made fun of, not that it matters much to her. But Ji-yeong laughs in a way that gives away her momentary joy, and Sae-byeok somehow gathers that the girl's just happy with her answer. The reason beats her. "So you've never had your first kiss, huh..." Ji-yeong sighs contently. Sae-byeok envies Ji-yeong's ease. She can't even relax while sleeping, let alone while she's awake and sitting on the steps with the latter. She figures it has everything to do with why Ji-yeong's here, and what her life was like before; it's kind of clear that she doesn't know what she's doing, nor does she really seem to care. Again, Sae-byeok envies her. "Does it matter?" she asks, looking down at her rough, calloused palms. Ji-yeong hums, "Well, do you want it to?" Sae-byeok is silent. Her hands look like maps, littered with ley lines that cross and connect with each other. She struggles to find a start or an end to the networks that overlap one another, eyes tracing along the mixture of natural lines and scars. Maybe it's because they're trembling too much that she keeps losing her trail. She can't feel the tips of her fingers. "One of us is gonna die soon and if it's you, won't you want to have kissed someone first?" Ji-yeong asks a valid question, and Sae-byeok has nothing to lose but her life. "...sure." Ji-yeong doesn't say anything, instead shuffling down from her two steps above Sae-byeok's, until they're shoulder to shoulder. In such close proximity, Sae-byeok stiffens again. Ji-yeong is warm, but not warm enough to bring the heat back into her shaky hands. Just warm enough for Sae-byeok to not want to back away. She studies the colour of Ji-yeong's eyes for a moment, then looks back down at her lap and balls her hands into fists. "Well, me too. Can I kiss you then?" Sae-byeok's eyes widen involuntarily. She whips her head up to find Ji-yeong's mirthful eyes and pinkened lips, curved up into a smile. "You... Haven't kissed anyone either?" she asks, albeit hesitantly. "Oh, I have," Ji-yeong laughs airily, then shakes her head, "but you haven't. It takes two people to kiss, remember?" Sae-byeok purses her lips, looking away. They're dry and chapped, bitten in some places out of anxiety. She can still taste metal if she presses her tongue hard enough into the left corner of her bottom lip. "I still don't know your name yet, so technically this can be a first for me, too- my first time kissing a stranger." Sae-byeok blinks. The fists her hands are in have loosened onto her knees, fingers spreading out across green fabric. "Okay," she mutters, purposefully soft. She's nervous. "Okay?" Ji-yeong repeats. Sae-byeok nods. "Okay." Ji-yeong's hands are soft on Sae-byeok's face. Perhaps they aren't soft, per se, but just softer than Sae-byeok's. Or perhaps they're not soft at all, littered with callouses, but it's just the way that she's touching her that feels soft. Sae-byeok has never had her face cupped so tenderly, warm fingers splayed out across her cheeks and jaw. She closes her eyes from the way it shrouds comfort over her, and almost feels like she could fall asleep on these steps with her head in Ji-yeong's hands. But she might not wake up if she did. So Sae-byeok blinks. She looks into Ji-yeong's eyes instead, the eyes that have been watching her for a while now. The eyes that have watched her weaken without judgement. Ji-yeong offers her a smile. For a moment it feels like sunlight on Sae-byeok's skin- to be looked at like this. To be held like this. To be so close to a warm body, if only for a moment. "Ready?" asks Ji-yeong, as she inches closer. Sae-byeok nods into her hands. "Okay. Close your eyes," Ji-yeong whispers, close enough to let the warm exhale of her words flicker across Sae-byeok's lips. Sae-byeok nods again, does as she's told. She had never anticipated letting her guard down on command for anybody. But she doesn't have the chance to rethink it, because Ji-yeong's lips are warm and soft, painfully soft, as they're pressed against her own. She tenses up, fighting a bodily shudder, and squeezes her eyes shut even tighter. But Ji-yeong is calm. She's always so calm. Sae-byeok can feel the ease in how her thumbs draw circles into her cheeks. It takes a few more for her scrunched up face to smoothen out under Ji-yeong's touch, and a few more for her lips to part into Ji-yeong's. Kisses are warm, Sae-byeok learns. And they're soft. Impossibly soft. Ji-yeong's lips are soft where hers are not, moving slowly where hers are frozen. She needs a moment to compose herself; her heart is pounding in her ears. Warmth and a sensation she's never felt before thrums gently beneath her skin, rushing through her veins. She follows it until she's following Ji-yeong's lips with her own, and they're melting into each other. Sae-byeok grows breathless against Ji-yeong's lips. Even then, she doesn't really want to pull away from their soft, wet warmth. Her lip stings when Ji-yeong runs her tongue across it, still bitten raw from yesterday. She doesn't mind, instead trying the same thing on the latter. Ji-yeong makes the softest of sounds when Sae-byeok licks her lip. It tastes as sweet as it sounds. Sae-byeok feels a certain kind of loss hollowing out her bones for just a moment when Ji-yeong parts from her. Her eyes flicker open, meeting the latter's. The hands on her face are warm, warmer than before. Sae-byeok just doesn't realise that it's her cheeks that are heated with colour. She breathes deeply to refill her lungs. Ji-yeong watches her with a smile. "Good?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. With her mind in an unfamiliar but pleasant haze, Sae-byeok nods dumbly. It causes the latter to breathe out a short laugh. "You can be really cute, you know that?" It feels like Ji-yeong's hands are growing warmer on her face. When they're gone, Sae-byeok finally realises she's been blushing. They go back to sitting side by side, both facing the faux concrete wall in front of them. The silence between them feels okay, but the air outside their little bubble keeps closing in on them. Bit by bit, what little comfort they've created for each other is destined to shatter for good. The numbers go down. They're getting closer to the end of this game, and by twisted design, one of their lives. "We're almost out of time... Should we play something now?" "...yeah, we should." Ji-yeong stands after Sae-byeok. But Sae-byeok lingers by the archway that leads out of their little compound. She waits until the latter looks back at her. "What are you waiting for?" Ji-yeong asks, hands stuffed into her pockets. Sae-byeok hesitates. She looks down at her dirty shoes, at the sand beneath them, then back up at Ji-yeong. It's not like her to stall, she knows. It's also not like her to ask anything of anyone "Can I-" she shakes her head, "no, nevermind." Ji-yeong makes her way back to Sae-byeok, until she's standing right in front of her. Sae-byeok looks down at the shorter latter with hesitant eyes. Ji-yeong knows. "Just one more," Sae-byeok whispers. It hurts. "Please." "Okay," Ji-yeong murmurs, carefully slinging her arms around Sae-byeok's neck. "Just one more. Just for you." Sae-byeok hugs Ji-yeong closer by the waist. They press their lips together in a way that's tender, but they're unable to hide the desperation. There's not enough time. One of them is going to die, and Sae-byeok just wants to feel this close to someone for as long as she can. She tries to tell Ji-yeong as much in the way she kisses her fervently, inexperienced but not insecure. And maybe Ji-yeong understands. Maybe she says she understands with her fingertips on the back of Sae-byeok's neck, drawing soft patterns into the skin there. That feeling returns, running through her veins like warm electricity. It's ironic that Sae-byeok feels so alive. It hurts to rip themselves apart from one another, but there's no time. There's no time, and they have to play the game. Someone has to die. Someone's going to die. "You're a good kisser, stranger," Ji-yeong breathes, and Sae-byeok hates the finality in her voice. "...it's Sae-byeok." "Hm? What is?" "My name. Kang Sae-byeok is my name." "Kang Sae-byeok. It's pretty. It suits you." Ji-yeong can still smile. Sae-byeok's eyes burn. They head out together to play someone's last game.     The only thing that pulses beneath Sae-byeok's cold skin is the aftershock of a gunshot still ringing in her ears. Sae-byeok doesn't sleep that night- doesn't even close her eyes in fear of the smile she'll see. That was Ji-yeong's last. Sae-byeok wonders if it was her last, too. She doesn't mind if it was. She never wants to kiss anyone ever again. They'll just end up dead.

"Dr. Camille O'Connell," said the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman's secretary over the intercom. "Your three o'clock is here. Hope Mikaelson." "Send her in, please," Camille, "Cami," sighs as she gets up from her desk. Last appointment of a Friday. Just one more three-hour session and the Psychologist can let her hair down for the weekend. It shouldn't be too hard of a session. Lately, every patient she'd seen had been easy,. The brilliant blonde had been able to figure out their psychosis, phobia, or neuroses as soon as they opened their mouths. How hard can a teenage girl be? Cami let out another long sigh, standing to straighten her three-piece female body suit. She was never really into the whole white coat thing. Cami preferred suits that made her look feminine. The knock on her door broke her musing as a lovely sprite of an auburn-haired teenager emerged, looking bored and pissed off. This teenage girl could not be much over five feet and strolled in Cami's office like she was ready to go Braveheart and set her newly appointed therapist on fire. 'Oh my god,' Cami said to herself, 'perhaps this particular teenage girl will be harder than I thought.' Cami smiled cordially and held her hand out. "Hope," Cami speaks to her new patient in her softest, most soothing tone, "my name is Cami, and I'm excited for us to work together- Hope quickly cut off Cami sharply, "yeah, yeah, you're the one who's going to fix all my problems. Where's the couch?!" Cami's left eye immediately twitches at the teenager's rude behavior. Hope points to the white couch in Cami's office, "Oh, look at that, I found it," Hope plops down, putting her hands behind her back, "Okay, go ahead, diagnose me, and I'll be on my way." Cami coughed indignantly. Perhaps this was Karma for her run of an easy streak the past month. It would seem Hope Mikaleson was going to be very difficult. "Okay?...., make yourself at home. I'm Cami again if you didn't catch it." Cami politely continues. Hope turns to Cami and narrows her piercing azure eyes at her. Cami could tell Hope wasn't buying her put-on, likable woman-shrink persona. "Hi," Hope mumbles warily, "Cami." Cami could feel her left eye twitching again. What the fuck was this girl's problem? Oh right. 'I'm supposed to be the one that figures that out.' Cami amused herself jokingly. The therapist with a doctoral degree, how she still wonders with all those long nights she moonlighted as a bartender, smirks as she points to a chair across her. "I was going to offer you that chair because a couch seemed cliche," Cami laughs out loud, "but I guess a couch works just fine for you." "Well, at least you have a sense of humor" Hope turns to Cami with a slight smirk that brings out her dimples, "congratulations, I don't find you totally intolerable." "Yay, lucky me." Cami pats herself on the back dryly. Hope sat up on the couch, crossing her short legs, catching the Psychologist, a former bartender, by surprise. "I don't know why I'm here," Hope declares snobbishly. "Tell me why you think you're here?" A quick flash of annoyance lit on Hope's pretty face, "Because the people in my life suck, and they finally drove me crazy!" Cami nodded, writing in her notebook, "Okay, that's a good start." Hope looks up at the clock hanging on the office wall. "It's only been 5 minutes...." Hope moans miserably, " I was hoping that confession would have burned more time." Cami moaned out loud as well, "Yeah, I was hoping it would too. You're like.... not a nice person to be around." Hope snaps her attention to Cami, "Excuse me?!" "Did you ever think," Cami diagnoses, "that maybe people in your life don't suck, that it's you, and you're the one that drove them crazy?" "Wait, what?! Cami shook her head, twiddling her pen in her hand, "Yeah, it has only been 5 minutes, and I already can feel you driving me crazy, Hope Mikaelson." "What kind of $20 online degree Psychology technique is this crap?!" Hope screams out. Cami lets out a joyous laugh, "reverse psychology." A few moments pass before Hope lets out a giggle, and both females share a laugh. So, if you're this great psychologist, why don't you tell me what's wrong with me and save us both some time?" Cami cocked her head at the teen. "That's not how it works, Hope." Cami explains, "you talk, and I listen." Hope sighs, "Okay, so what do I talk about?" Cami shrugs, "Why do you think, and answer honestly, you are here?" Hope paused, processing this. "Because I messed up and lost everything that ever mattered to me." She admits. So then," supplied Cami, "why don't you start from the beginning." Hope smiled darkly, hating the irony in what she was about to say, and it carried over into her voice. "Well, I guess you could make the argument. It all started when Ethan Machado came back to bite me in the ass without ever making an appearance." \\ 3 weeks earlier... Every day at seven A.M., Milton Quincy Greasley would go to the Mystic Falls bus station, sit on the same bench, the same spot, and stare. The boy would stare at the bus that came in and went out, stared at the people who got on and off the bus, and then he'd return to Kaleb's house at eleven P.M. Milton would watch families reunite and families go their separate ways, whether their youngest is off to college or the parents are going to a lovely retirement home. He watched lonely people start their adventures and groups of friends end their adventures. He watched how the unloved would wait for their families until the last second and ran towards the bus doors before they shut. He watched as a few, who had their lives together, would confidently walk on or off the bus, like they were ready to start their careers, and lives. Milton knew he was waiting for someone, but they seemed like they would never come. "MG." Lizzie's voice broke through his brooding as MG looked up at the smiling face of his girlfriend. 'Right on schedule.' MG thought to himself gratefully. The blonde had changed her morning route for her runs to sit with her boyfriend afterwards. Lizzie sat down next to him, pulling her earbuds out and interlocking their arms together as she placed her head on his shoulder. "You still miss Ethan, huh?" Lizzie asks him, squeezing his hand comfortingly. MG bit his lip, wanting to choose his following words carefully, "What he did to Josie was wrong, and I'm pissed at him just as much as you are...." The teen football player paused, holding back a sob, "but he was still my best friend, Liz." "No, I get it," Lizzie chuckled sadly, "Penelope won't say it, but she is pretty torn up about Maya leaving too." MG shook his head, wanting to change the subject. "So, did you guys hear back from the board committee yet?" Lizzie tensed and picked her head up so the couple could see each other properly. "Don't even get me started," Lizzie growled out, "Hope is suspended indefinitely from the squad." MG sighed; he knew the repercussion of the brawl at Ethan's house would have horrible ripple effects on his friends' lives. "Maybe, she can come back before Nationals," Lizzie frowned, grabbing her head for the migraine that was forming, "but she's definitely done for preliminaries, which means I just lost two of my best cheerleaders." MG puts a supportive hand on Lizzie's tensing shoulder, "It'll be okay. I know you can get through this." Lizzie took a deep breath, trying to suppress her mounting anger and accidentally unleashing it at her caring and loveable boyfriend. "MG, how many football scholarships were given to your seniors last year?" The dark-skinned boy threw his hands up, trying to remember, "two? Maybe three? Lizzie laughed defeatedly, "That's three more than any of our senior cheerleaders got." The blonde Head Cheerleader felt herself wanting to break out in tears as she saw the future she had worked so hard for slowly slipping away from her grasp. "I've been scouted since freshman year," Lizzie says to the boy, trying to make him understand her plight, "because the college scouts think I'm extraordinary... MG leans in, listening more attentively, knowing that his usually strong and guarded girlfriend was letting herself be vulnerable with him. "Being a champion? Becoming a 3-time National champion? That makes me extraordinary." Lizzie declares. "And if I'm not? If I can't get this squad to win this year. Then there's go any chances, I have to a scholarship." Lizzie can no longer fight the tears as a few drops roll down her reddening cheeks. Lizzie wasn’t an academia like her sister Josie. She wasn't rich like Hope and with a future job waiting for her when her father retired. Without that scholarship Lizzie was nothing. MG quickly wraps his girlfriend in his arms, tenderly kissing her on the forehead. "It's all going to work out, Lizzie." he promises her, "if anyone can do this, I know it's you." Lizzie murmurs out, "Thanks, sweetcheeks." MG grins widely as he feels Lizzie poke his dimples, feeling accomplished in helping his girl feel better. Lizzie gets up and holds her hand out to MG. "Come on, handsome." Lizzie says, "You still have me." MG feels his heart swell with love and relief as he takes his girlfriend's hand and interlocks their fingers. A familiar screech indicated a bus had arrived right on schedule pulling in. MG pauses and watches the usual people getting off, and he feels that familiar feeling of dread again. "MG?" Lizzie calls out, curious as to why her boyfriend was so fascinated by the bus that had pulled up. MG turned to her, a look of forlornness on his face. "Lizzie, if anything ever happened to Josie," MG pauses, his voice pained, "and she had to go away, leave Mystic Falls. Would you go with her?" Lizzie blinked. She never really thought about it. The twin girls had spent all their lives in Mystic Falls. The thought of just packing up and never leaving really crossed her mind. Maybe after college, but still... "Yes," Lizzie answers without hesitation, "I would go wherever Josie went. I wouldn't even think about it for a second." His girlfriend's answer does nothing to quell the pit in his stomach. If anything, he can feel it grow. Josie was his little sister. Lizzie was the love of his life. The Saltzman twins were the closest thing he had to a family. The thought of either of them getting on that bus like Ethan... Like his mother. Leaving him all alone in this world. It was too horrible to think about. MG felt Lizzie pulling him in the direction away from the bus stop, and he had one final thought, determined to never return to this place for a bus, for someone, that would never come again: He can't let Hope destroy Josie like she did Ethan. \\ Hope shook her head in amazement as she and Cleo walked down the hallway side by side. After her initial embarrassment of Cleo's blatant flirting, the two fell back into a comfortable and familiar conversational cadence. The pair of reunited friends discussed everything they had missed out on since they last saw each other. Hope had told Cleo practically everything. Even about her mother whom she reconciled with. "Simply wonderful." Was the response, Cleo gave. "No one deserves the utmost happiness than you, Hope." Hope could still feel the flush that had formed when Cleo said those words. "So why are you even in this class?" Hope questioned. "If you wanted to escape being a prodigy and a simple teenager?" Cleo looked up, trying to think of the words to express herself. "Because art is never finished, only abandoned," Cleo poetically answers, "and I will never abandon my art." Hope hummed, impressed with her friend, "Leonardo da Vinci, I see you still love to quote your favorite artists." Cleo stops the pair from having a proper conversation once they get to her new locker. "I confess that advanced arts are throwing me for a bit of a loop," Cleo opens her locker and turns to Hope, looking at her inquisitively. "Mrs. Tigg is proving to be a quite demanding art teacher for all her disorganization." Hope nodded in agreement, "True, Emma is the nicest teacher I've ever met, but only like ten people actually pass her class each term." "Oh no, I have been deceived! How am I going to get the credit for this class?" Cleo dramatically groans, feigning catastrophe. Hope smiled at her antics and held her nose up high, "Well, luckily for you. You have the best artist in Mystic Fall High, hell in the whole state of Virginia as your partner!" "The best you say?" Cleo challenged. "We will see about that, agapi mou." Hope was about to retort back wittily when someone behind her interrupts. Hey babe." Hope is surprised by a familiar voice. It sounded like her Josie but hardened, with more bite behind her words. Josie firmly places her hands on Hope's hips, placing her chin on the top of her short auburnette girlfriend's head, "who’s your new friend?" "Oh! Hi!" Cleo greeted excitedly, believing she was about to make another friend. "My name is Cleo." Josie really didn't care what Cleo's name was or how friendly and kind she may seem. Josie had decided she hated the new girl the second she walked down the hall and noticed how Cleo was staring at her girlfriend. That had been the least subtle eye-undressing she's ever had the misfortune to witness. And Cleo dared to direct it at her Hope. "Josie, my name is Josie." the junior teen all but shouts angrily at the Grecian transfer student. Cleo is taken aback at the force behind Josie's introduction and is quite frankly a little more than terrified. "Okay...Josie..." Cleo nervously rubs the nape of her head, "It's nice to meet you." Hope raised an eyebrow while still comfortably in Josie's arms. "Um, Jo Bear?" she asked. "Hmm" Josie innocently draws out, never breaking eye contact with Cleo. There is a part of Hope's brain that tries to be reasonable. This was Josie. No way she was doing all this to assert her dominance or blatantly claim Hope. Josie didn't just wrap her arms around her waist because of jealousy - Josiejust wanted to hug her girlfriend like always. And Josie didn't just interrupt their conversation because she was jealous - she was simply trying to spend time with Hope. Yea. That was it. Hope involuntarily shivered as she felt Josie lean down and place a purposeful kiss on her forehead. "Oh." Was all Cleo could say as Josie kissed Hope, never breaking away from her, as if telling Cleo with her brown eyes looking like daggers to "back off, now." Hope tries to recover quickly, still very much surprised with how affected she was by Josie's sudden display of possessiveness. The auburn-haired girl doesn't want to admit it out loud, but it was.... doing things to her. "Josie is my girlfriend." Hope stutters out. Said girlfriend tightened her hold on Hope, drawing her closer to the brunette's body defensively. "Yea, so I would really appreciate it, Cleo," Josie spits out her name with venom, "if you would stop referring to my girlfriend as your love." Cleo panicked in embarrassment that the brown-haired girl had not only heard her conversation with Hope, her girlfriend but was well versed in Greek and knew exactly what "agapi mou" meant in her language. "I am so sorry!" Cleo apologized, her amazing day suddenly taking a turn for the worst. "I didn't know Hope was spoken for." "Well, now you know," Josie states, "she is." Cleo decides to make a break for it right then and there. Lest her embarrassment doesn't kill her, she is pretty sure the snarling, taller, and clearly ticked-off teenage girl will do it. "I totally understand. I can see with a gorgeous girlfriend like Hope you would be – what do the American kids say – jelly?" Cleo jokes but quickly feels pathetic at her useless attempts to diffuse the situation. Josie frowns for a second, feeling sorry for Cleo. The new student didn't seem to be a bad person. Still, she fucked up when she messed with HER person. Cleo turns on her heels, leaving the couple alone as she curses herself, feeling stupid. "I'll talk to you more about our project later, Hope." Hope quickly detangles herself from Josie's body and turns around to question her girlfriend's shocking behavior. Her girl doesn't give her a chance to speak as Josie reaches down, fisting her hands on Hope's blouse, bringing her into Josie by force. "Jos-" Hope squeaks, but the brunette doesn't wait for her to formulate whatever question Hope was about to ask. In a swift move, Josie cupped her petite face and smashed their lips together in a kiss. It took Hope exactly four seconds to understand what was happening and five seconds to close her eyes and kiss Josie back. Soft but deliberate assertive hands find purchase on the small of Hope's back as auburnette grabs Josie's neck to keep her as close as possible. Lips heatedly move against one another, and Hope can't help but muse how perfectly she and Josie fit together in these little moments. A few seconds later, they break for air, their lips smacking loudly as they both take a deep breath. It's worth mentioning that this was only the second time they indulged in PDA, and now the whole campus was staring at them, some with smiles on their faces, some with their phones out - oh no -, Hope looked into Josie's eyes, her heart pounding out of her chest, her eyes dilated with the whirl of emotions and lust the kiss brought. Josie had a goofy smile playing on her lips, and squeezed Hope's waist before leaning down and pecking her lips. "What was that about?" Hope asked, her dazzled azure eyes searching Josie's beautiful face for an answer. "I thought you were mad at me." Bending her head down, Josie nuzzled her face on the hollow of Hope's neck, her voice small and her anger subsided. "You're with me." "I know," Hope answered, still confused about the sudden behavior change. "But why are you so.... possessive now?" "I'm trying something new," Josie awkwardly responds, "I don't want people to think they have a shot with you anymore." Josie prays Hope doesn't get mad at her for giving in to her territorial instincts and possessive rage instead of breathing them away this time. Hope smirked at that, finally understanding what was going on. She pulled Josie closer bringing her mouth in on a pierced ear, "I like you. She's just a friend." "I don't trust her." She repeated, squeezing Hope's torso tighter. "So, you're jealous?" Hope teased, earning a light shove from her girlfriend, "You have nothing to be jealous of." Josie sighed, "If you say so, I'm just glad Cleo knows you are my girlfriend." Hope smiled, leaning back to look her in the eyes. "So, I guess we can stop talking about all this stupid breaking up business now?" Josie looked back at Hope, staring directly into yearning azure eyes, a smile forming on her lips as well. She whispered in softly, "Yes, Hopey." "Hopey?" Hope giggled. "That's new." Josie blushes, "It's another new thing I'm trying out. You said to come up with something else!" "Oh. I guess" Hope thought about it and laughed, her laughter echoing joyously in the hallway. Hope buried her face into Josie's shoulder. She kind of liked a jealous Jo Bear. "If I make you jealous, will you kiss me again?" Hope questions teasingly. Josie groans, "I'll kiss you regardless, but I prefer if you didn't." \\ Hope paused her story telling to look up at the clock on the wall. "Damn," Hope curses, "That part of the story only took up like thirty minutes." The Mikaelson heiress turned her attention back to her therapist. Cami was staring at her with an unreadable expression, and it was starting to make Hope feel uncomfortable. "Well, Hope," Cami starts pulling the top of the pen cap she had been chewing on out of her mouth, "It seemed like you and Josie have a very... complicated relationship." Hope snorts out, "Had a relationship. We're not together anymore." "Okay, Hope," Cami said aloud to the auburnette's image of despairing before her, "Why don't you tell me about the relationship you USE to have with Josie? It seems important." "Well, Josie is the kindest, most understanding, sincere person I ever met...." Hope stops her story, feeling the pain of her ex-girlfriend's loss hitting her like a speeding train. Cami sighed heavily. She hates this part about being a therapist. Bringing out the pain and hurt that someone is feeling. But Cami knows all too well thst it's part of the healing process. "Focus on the good, Hope," Cami guides, "Just block out the bad right now and tell me about Josie. The good parts." Hope smiles feeling that the train passes her as she loses herself in Josette Saltzman. "She bites her fingertips when she gets nervous. She bites her lower lips when she doesn't know what to say. Her favorite food is macaroni and cheese because it's what her birth mom, Jo, used to make her and Lizzie before she died..." Cami nodded her head encouragingly, "go on..." "When she would sleep at night, Josie would let out these little sighs that made me think she was dreaming of me. She was always cold, and because I'm always warm, it was the perfect fit when I held her in my arms at night. She loves playing in the rain, and little blue irises are her favorite...." Cami noted the way the auburnette's eyes had begun to well up and the amount of love in which Hope spoke about Josie. "She sounds like an amazing girl," Cami supplied with her usual attentive insight. "Yes," Hope said readily, surprised at how emotional she'd become. "When I was ten, I wanted to marry her. My dad thought I was crazy." Cami felt touched by Hope's devotion. "So.... shall we continue with your story then?" Cami said, grinning, already looking forward to what else Hope had to say. Hope wiped the tears that had fallen off her face and inhaled deeply. "Sure, might as well. We still have two hours."

Sam was frustrated. She was supposed to have gone with her girlfriends on the week long trip to the beach, but her parents wouldn't let her out of the house. She was eighteen and just out of high school. This was the second weekend of the summer break and the beginning of the week she was supposed to be at the beach, but she was stuck at home. She had told her parents that she was going to look for a job for the summer, but didn't and was caught by her mom at the mall. As punishment she was not allowed to go with her friends and still had to pay her parents back for the trip. Sam was short for Samantha, but she hated being called the longer name. She was an inch shy of six feet and one hundred thirty pounds. She had an hourglass figure with measurements of 32-24-34. She knew how to use her body to her advantage, but not to get a job, mainly because she never had an interview. She had, depending on the maker of the bra, large B-cup or small C-cup tits. To add to her frustrations, her parents went on their own vacation for the week. They had left her chores list for the week. She knew they were all to be done before they got back and decided to just push through all of them and hope for a little stay-cation while they were gone. The list said that she was supposed to clean her room, wash both cars, clean the kitchen, and many other things. Most of the stuff on the list was easy and indoors. She knew the lists needed doing before she went to bed on Friday after seeing her parents off. She woke up Saturday and instead of griping and not doing her chores, she got right into them without changing out of her PJs. She normally wore a loose top and pants to sleep in when her parents were home, but when she had the house to herself or she stayed with friends she wore a tight tank top and just her panties. Now she was in a pink top and blue boy shorts. Surprisingly, by eleven a.m. most of the chores on the list were done; only one major chore was left, washing the cars. Actually the chore list stated that she was to wash the Pathfinder. She decided that if she had to wash the SUV, she would also wash her Honda sedan. Both were parked in the driveway, with hers wearing a parking boot. The boot was placed on her car by her dad, a city police officer who had bought an older boot from the city when they were getting new ones. He had had Sam pull into the spot where the Pathfinder normally sat and placed the boot with her watching. The SUV was parked where the Honda Element, the vehicle Sam's parents took for their vacation, normally sat. She changed her clothes to go outside. She pulled another tank top on, this one a light green. Her panties hit the floor and a pair of tight fitting black spandex shorts that ended three inches below her butt were pulled on. She then pulled her shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair up into a ponytail. Her track shoes on her feet were the last things she put on before heading out the back sliding door. In the back she blanched at the heat, but didn't stop. Fewer people would be out, meaning a little fun while washing. She smiled at the thought. The washing bucket and other implements were in the shed off to the side of the house next to the pool machine shed. She welcomed the brief respite in the shade, but the temperature was only a few degrees cooler than in the sun. With the stuff in hand she went out front. The cars sat in the driveway and looked hot. There was a hose attached to the spigot on near the garage door, which she grabbed and used to fill the bucket. She started with her sedan, since it was closer to the neighbor's house. While spaying the car down, she got splash back and she enjoyed it, especially the cool water hitting her chest. After the car was all wet she got into washing the car. While she was washing the main body of the car, she never squatted to soak the sponge. Only when the body was covered in suds did she spray the car down again. By this time she was sweating and to help alleviate some of the heat, she pulled her top up to the bottom of her tits. She also splashed some water over her head. The water cascaded down her body and because of the difference in temperature, when the water hit her chest her nipples hardened and became very visible to anyone who was looking. She smiled at the thought, but noticed there was no one around and the smile faded some. Next she did the wheels and bumpers, this time squatting and at one time accidentally splashed her knees. The water ran down her legs to her crotch. This time she shuddered. She stopped herself from touching her crotch. "Got to finish washing," she said to herself. She sprayed the sedan down again and quickly dried it off. Now it was noon and there was no one on the street. The temperature was over a hundred degrees and she was getting really hot. She spayed the SUV and wetted her hair again. That wasn't enough for her this time. That was partly because she was really hot from the sun, but she was also getting horny. Her best friend, Emma, showed her how 'hot' it was to show off. Sam wasn't into stripping off in front of people, but she did get naked some times when there was a chance of getting caught. Being horny the way she was made her glance up and down the street to see if anyone was around. Seeing the street was empty and most of the homes were empty, it being the beginning of summer vacation and all, she pulled her top off and laid it on the hood of the SUV. She then sprayed the top until the entire thing was soaked. She was reveling in the feel of standing in front of her house topless. Her nipples were even harder and she was starting to make a wet spot in her short, but that was hidden from sight because of the water that had leaked there earlier. Once the top was soaked she stopped spraying and pulled the top on. The top held a huge amount of water and dripped from the time she pulled it up. It soaked her body and she shuddered. The top stuck to her like a second skin and she pulled it down just past her nipples. She was feeling naughty and didn't care as much anymore. The water ran down her body, making it glisten in the sun. It started to soak the top of her shorts. Felling cooler, yet hotter, she started washing the SUV in earnest. She used the same technique as on the sedan, spraying the entire vehicle (and trying to minimize splash back onto the sedan), washing the body, spraying off the suds, and then stopped again. She was feeling too hot again, this time more for the sexual thrill than the heat of the day, but she did notice that the shirt was quite dry after the thirty minutes it took her to wash SUV. She was amazed at how dry her shirt got in that time. She pulled the top off again and pushed the sexual envelope by pushing her shorts down and off. She set both on the hood of the SUV and sprayed them down. All the while looking around to make sure no one saw her. Her free hand was gently gliding around on her bared body. Her nipples were at the hardest that she had ever had them and her pussy under a neatly trimmed bush was practically gushing. She pulled her soaking wet clothes on again just before a car passed the house. She quickly finished the washing and then the drying of the SUV with a quick swipe of the towel over the sedan to get the splash from the SUV. When she was done, she dumped the bucket out onto the driveway and sprayed it out. All the items she had taken from the back were placed near the front door to dry and she stood in front of the SUV. She couldn't believe how quickly her clothes were drying, as they were almost dry again. That wasn't true, but it was the justification she gave herself. She figured she was allowed a little down time, since there was only one more thing to do on her list. She was going to use the pool in the backyard. As a little play for herself, she had kicked her shoes off next to the door to dry with the other stuff. In front of the SUV she stripped herself bare again and smiled to herself. She pinched both nipples, causing her to moan happily. As one last tease for herself, she squatted down and stuck a finger in her pussy. This caused her to moan again and she was close to sitting down right there to masturbate. That's when she heard a car coming down road. She pulled her finger out with a slight sucking sound and some disappointment. She ran around the corner just in time, leaving her clothes on the ground in front of the SUV. In the back yard, she undid her ponytail, jumped into the pool and swam the length of it. In the shallow end she climbed the stairs and sat on a lounge chair. In short order one of her hands found its way to her crotch and the other to her tits. This was a first for her. She had never skinny dipped in her own pool or tanned in the nude before. Both were making her hornier, and building on the feeling she had given herself in front of the house, than just the teases she had done in front. She had skinny dipped else where with Emma, but she had never thought she would do something like this at home. She smiled as her fingers played with her wet lips and hard clit. Her moaning became more pronounced as she worked herself toward a great orgasm. Her stomach was convulsing in time with her hands as she was getting closer to cumming. As she crested her peak into orgasm, her body froze then she had tiny shakes, like many tiny earthquakes coming from the epicenter of her clit and pussy. The only thing that didn't stop was her mouth. At the crest she said quietly, "Fuckmefuckmefuckme..." Every time she cums she says exactly the same thing for the duration of the orgasm. This time when she came down from her high she started masturbating again. The feeling of being outside in the middle of the day on the weekend was just something she couldn't get over and needed to release her happiness. She masturbated to two more amazing orgasms before stopping. She could barely walk when she went inside the house to get a drink and suntan lotion. After applying the lotion she laid back outside by the pool and truly enjoyed the sun on all her skin, especially on the tiny white triangles on her tits, over her pussy and on her ass. She vowed to herself that those lines would be almost gone by the time her parents cam home.

"Hey babe?" Angel called, leaning back in his chair to peer out of the door of his office. He didn't see Alastor right away but the deer soon came into view to answer the call. "What'cha got?" "Some broad from the news wants to know if we're available to do an interview?" Angel asked, holding up his phone. "Katie Killjoy?" Alastor guessed. "That's the bitch!" "How lucky!" Alastor brightened, looking almost gleeful. "I've been wondering when I'd have reason to meet the lady Charlie humiliated on live television. Quite the fight that started!" Most demons would say it was Charlie who had been the one who had been humiliated, but Alastor saw it differently. Charlie had taken all of the verbal venom Katie had spat in her direction rather well all things considered, while Katie had been moved to violence at a single vulgarity. That, in Alastor's opinion, made Charlie the clearly emotionally stronger of the two. Violence for the fun of it was all fair and good but violence due to a lack of wit was just pathetic. "Well fuck. Now I gotta go just to throw a punch for Cha-Cha." Angel snickered, putting the phone back to his ear. "We're in. It'll be funny."     The interview was a wreck before it even started. It began with a handshake and was all downhill from there. "Charlie said you didn't touch The Gays." Angel huffed, not taking the hand the mantis of a woman offered. "Oh it's not as if you count. You're really a woman, aren't you?" Katie asked, not without a generous helping of condescension. Alastor's ambient static picked up a notch and the shadows all around the news station started to shift. Angel subtly tapped his elbow, letting him know to tone it down; Angel could fight his own battles. An honest mistake was fine, but this was hardly the first time someone had played the confusion card as an excuse to be transphobic, homophobic, or both at him. Angel decided not to take her hand after all, wiping it on his sleeve and making a show of checking his nails even though he had his usual gloves on. "Well I don't touch shit and you seem to be full of it." He bit back. That wiped the grin off of Katie's face and Alastor laughed as he could see the exact moment she suddenly regretted bringing them both on her show. It was too late to change program scheduling now, since they would be on air in a matter of minutes. Tom Trench, at least, was more welcoming as Angel introduced himself to the masked man. Or not masked, he amended when he noticed the gasmask actually was the anchorman's face. A bit too welcoming as he kept stammering over his words as soon as Angel Dust was within a meter of him. Angel thought it cute, aware that Tom was probably a fan. He was a bit touchy too, but that was nothing Angel wasn't used to. "Keep it in your pants you spineless, rotting--" Katie began to bark at her co-host before sitting quickly as a cameraman signalled her. Alastor and Angel sat as well, letting Katie introduce them to the audience both watching from home and those that had paid to be physically present. "So how long have you two actually been together?" Tom asked cheerfully before Katie could get a word in. "Been over a year." Angel shrugged. "It's kinda fuzzy when we actually started." "We've been officially married for months." Alastor clarified, though he didn't say which month. "We've just kept it quiet." "I'd keep it quiet too. You actually married a hooker?" Katie taunted. "Yes." Alastor confirmed, not taking her bait by trying to defend his actions when there was nothing to defend. "Lucky." Tom muttered. "It's a bit hard to make personal romantic connections with how many guys--and some girls, those are awkward nights--get a piece of me on the regular. Ain't impossible though." Angel said, taking the bait and twisting it around for his own benefit and, Alastor got the impression, that he may be talking to his former co-workers with that one. "Sex and love are two different things anyway. They're nice together if you can swing it but different shit works for different people." "What works for the Radio Demon?" Katie asked, probably going for suggestive but only managing to come off sleazy. "Oh, Angel does this lovely thing where he'll dance with the pig and sing while cooking. His song choices are hit-or-miss but it's fun seeing him have fun even if he's being gross." Alastor answered, causing Angel's fur to rise in his body's version of a blush. "Let's Misbehave is your favorite and it's about sex too. Shut the fuck up." Angel snickered. "Or murder!" Alastor countered. Giving the lyrics a second run in his head with that context in mind, Angel couldn't even argue. He shrugged, and both he and Alastor took some delight in the confused disappointment on Katie's face. Clearly she had been expecting some sort of steamy detail about their sex life. Too bad that the moments where anything that qualified occurred were few and far between and very, very private. "Aren't you worried," Katie began, recovering quickly, "That some other demons might take the opportunity to take a shot at an Overlord by targeting his whore?" "The whore is right here." Angel huffed, running a finger along the space between his eyes since he didn't have a proper nose with a bridge to pinch. "And that already happened." "Oh?" "Yep!" Alastor confirmed, his grin widening. "And now Vox is dead! Though I expect others will still be stupid enough to try." "Wondered what happened to Vox…" Tom mused. "Valentino was real quiet about it when we asked if he knew anything." "Speaking of Valentino!" Katie said in a mix of cheerful and sinister as she clicked a button under the news desk. There was a screen in front of them to show what the greenscreen behind them, and Angel blanched when he recognised an old clip of him and Valentino that hadn't actually been released to Hell's population. Certain parts were blurred, of course, but that hardly counted as a proper censor when everything around the blur was so obvious. Even worse, Angel-on-screen's eyes were glazed over, making him appear nearly dead if not for the sounds accompanying the video. "I don't even remember that." Angel deflected, though he honestly didn't. He'd seen the video after the fact, vetoing it for public view since Valentino had favored him enough to grant him that right. "I think that was a meth day?" Alastor brow furrowed, but that was the only indication that he was uncomfortable. At least until Valentino himself showed up from a side-stage, stepping up to take a seat next to Tom, bringing an abrasive scent with him. "Oh fuck they Jerry Springer'd us." Angel grumbled, too quiet for the mic to pick up. "What's Jerry Springer?" Alastor asked, his nose twitching. "Vox's pride and joy." Angel huffed, then glared over at his former boss and ex-pimp. "Val, what the fuck?" An argument broke out about the clip and the sharing of it. It mostly angered screeching on Angel's part and laughter on Valentino and Katie's. Tom seemed apologetic so long as one ignored that his hands were below the news desk instead of on top of it. Angel paused mid-rant when he noticed a faint beeping coming from Alastor. He didn't know morse code by heart, but he knew what an SOS sounded like. They needed to go, and Alastor wasn't about to go showing any weaknesses on live television. So Angel needed to be the one to bail. "I ain't playin' this game with you Val." Angel huffed, standing and letting himself look a bit more upset than he would normally show. "I ain't takin' any of this shit. Al, can I go home?" "Of course, my Darling!" Alastor nodded gracefully, standing as well and pulling both of them out of the filming area. Quietly, he added "Thank you." "Yeah, yeah. I'm a fuckin' knight in shining sequins." Angel huffed, but grew serious when he noticed Alastor's smile was dim at best, his ears were low, and he kept scrubbing his palm over his nose like it was severely bothering him. "Al? You good?" "Valentino smells." Alastor grunted, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his tone. He pushed away from Angel toward the nearest restroom, letting out a shriek of audio feedback to get the demons in said restroom to leave. Angel followed, startled by the suddenness and volume but not at all put off by it. "Yeah he reeks like piss." Angel agreed. "Usually he doesn't. Probably had gross shit scheduled for filming earlier today." "No." Alastor said, like Angel was missing the point. "He smells like a doe." Angel's brows raised, understanding instantly but withholding his comment as he watched Alastor turn the sink on to rinse his face with cold water. If Angel squinted sure enough there was a darker tint of grey under Alastor's eyes and across his face. "He, uh…" Angel stammered. "Val uses heat-scents as cologne sometimes if he knows he's gonna be around animal-shaped demons. To get a rise out of 'em." "A rise." Alastor chuckled bitterly, his claws clicking repeatedly against the sink. "Pun not intended." Angel huffed, rolling his eyes. "Let's go home?" "Can't focus…" Alastor sighed. "It got you that bad?" Angel asked, surprised. "Hush." Alastor huffed, and locked himself in a stall. "Leave." "You're gonna do chores in public?" Angel ignored the order, knowing Alastor wouldn't enforce it. "I'm going to wait it out and your presence is making it worse." Alastor reported, the annoyance in his voice growing. "I'm down to help if you let me." Angel offered. "Right now I want to hurt you." Alastor admitted. "Between the smell and the video I don't even know what my body and brain are trying to do but it's very confusing and violence is usually the answer." "You can play rough!" Angel permitted. "Hurt me, babe. I don't mind." Silence. "Do you actually want me to leave?" "...No." "Open the door?" Angel asked, and the lock on the stall clicked. Angel let himself into the stall where Alastor had tucked himself into a corner, almost shaking. Angel frowned, sympathetic. He'd been slipped aphrodisiacs in drinks and drugs plenty of times to know they were no joke. Something that preyed on specifically on Alastor's species, something that got real deer to walk right up to a gun, had to be ridiculously strong. He didn't have much time to think further as Alastor had him shoved up against the door of the stall, burying his face in Angel's chest and inhaling through the sweetly scented fur, trying to replace the burning smell that had him in such a state in the first place. "Ain't wearin' panties if you want up the skirt." Angel offered, and Alastor backed off somewhat. "No. I can't--" Alastor stammered, the grey sort of blush having furthered. "No." "Want me to su--" "No." Alastor whined, his ears flat against his head. "I don't know." "Here." Angel tried, knowing that closeness wasn't a problem even if direct skin-to-fur might be. He turned them around, boxing Alastor in in a way that if he needed to he could reach the latch on the door and leave the situation entirely. He leaned close, nipping a red ear and pressing a thigh to Alastor's swollen length through his trousers. Alastor bucked against the contact automatically, and his claws dug into Angel's secondary shoulders. "Shred me if you wanna." Angel allowed, nuzzling Alastor between the antlers and encouraging him to grind my moving his thigh. "You can bite too. Whatever you wanna do." Usually Angel wouldn't be as vague to say 'whatever' was allowed, but he trusted Alastor not to do any real damage. Despite being a complete sadist with others, Alastor had always treated Angel like glass by comparison. Very thin glass. Sometimes it was even annoying as much as it was sweet. While Angel's top set of hands were busy holding Alastor upright, his second set found the deer's hips. Alastor was clearly working entirely on an instinct he usually preferred to ignore, so a little guidance was needed. Angel felt claws dig into him further, only to release quickly. "You're okay, Smiles." Angel cooed. Alastor shivered, giving in to the need for friction and pulling Angel maddeningly closer but still finding the contact somehow lacking. If only he could open Angel up to settle inside near the spider's heart. But that was an empty fantasy he had no plan of actually enacting. Though the smell of blood was certainly alluring, the thought of Angel in the same state he left most victims was sickening. Still he couldn't help but bite, the give of Angel's flesh tearing around his teeth being a comfort, even more so the pleased whimper it drew from Angel. He had to force himself to pull away before he did too much damage. Hell forbid he rip his husband's throat out for helping, even accidentally. The sight of it was pretty, Alastor thought, the blood on Angel's fur. Like roses on snow. He whined, partly from a vague sense of guilt at marring his husband's flesh and mostly from the fact Angel's lower hand had found his tail. He usually managed to leave the tail behind in a shift but sometimes the damned thing was stubborn. The fur of it was short and coarse, but Angel didn't mind. It was a nice texture in his opinion anyway. "You're okay," Angel repeated, shifting to grind back against Alastor's hip while the deer continued to rut against his thigh. "You want me to stop?" "Please don't." Alastor only just barely managed to utter, his breath short. Angel hummed, hooking a finger into Alastor's high collar and pulling it down to get at his neck. He kept his tongue to himself, and Alastor didn't protest as Angel started to bite and suck a mark into his skin. At some point they'd managed to fall into a rhythm, like dancing almost, and Alastor could hardly breathe. He felt too hot in his clothes, but not at all comfortable taking them off even if they weren't in public. They were in public, Alastor realised. He'd already known, of course, but now he was actively thinking about it. He tensed up, and Angel clued into it immediately. "You okay?" Angel asked, always so careful with him. Alastor tried to speak, but it came out as a garbled mess of static. "Nod or shake." Angel suggested. "You wanna stop?" A shake. "Keep goin'?" A nod. "Can I put my hands down your pants?" A very quick shake. "Hands over pants?" Alastor nodded, but he seemed unsure, so Angel kept his movements slow as he slipped the lower hand not on Alastor's tail between the two of them. He kept the hand over clothing, and relished in the sharp intake of breath it drew out of Alastor as he brushed his fingered over the covered bulge. The nod that got was almost enthusiastic and Alastor's hands moved from Angel's side so one was on his hip and the other on the thigh Alastor had been humping. His claws dug in again, drawing blood instantly. "I got'cha." Angel assured, not bothered as he added a bit of pressure and began stroking Alastor through his trousers. Angel's usual policy was if a john jizzed in their pants he was obligated to laugh at them. But Alastor wasn't some john and Angel couldn't say something like that to his husband. Besides, it was a privilege to feel Alastor shudder against him, stifling a groan he couldn't keep to himself in Angel's chest. Angel held him through it, biting his own tongue. Now was not the time for his almost total lack of filter. "You're really fuckin' cute." Angel's mouth said before his brain could stop it. Alastor shifted away, grimacing at the mess he'd made of himself. Of both of them, he amended when he noticed the blood all over the wall of the stall. They both needed a good washing. He hated feeling any sort of slimy. "Home." He exhaled the word almost as if it were a desperate plea, then remembered that teleportation was his own ability and not one Angel had. "I'll take us home in a minute. Let me get my head right." "Take your time." Angel shrugged. "Might have to find whatever the fuck Val's wearing and buy thirty bottles." "Do not." Alastor snarled, and Angel laughed.

The closest jeweler lived in a small town north of Resembool. You were there after an hour on the train. It was a small store but had impressive pieces. Rings, necklaces, bracelets and the like glittered in well-lit display cases, each with unique attributes, all handmade. You briefly wondered if the owner was an alchemist. Aside from you and Ed, the store was empty. The maybe-an-alchemist owner appeared from the back a moment after the door shut, hitting the little bell connected to the doorframe. He was a man slightly past his prime with greying hair and bad posture, probably from leaning over jewelry all day for years. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically. “What can I help you two with?” “He is looking for an anniversary present,” you said, gesturing to Ed. “I am here to make sure he doesn’t get lonely.” “Or buy something stupid,” he added. “Or both.” You shrugged as your attention was pulled to one of the cases filled with what you assumed were diamonds. “There’s no telling what he’d do on his own.” The owner seemed amused at your banter but didn’t comment. Instead he jumped into a conversation with Ed about what he was looking for. Your companion was led over to a section of mostly silver pieces as you browsed the more interesting things in the store. You didn’t often find yourself in jewelry stores - it wasn’t something you were particularly interested in - so the sheer amount of glittering stones in sight was a bit overwhelming. They were in all sorts of colors and shapes, from light blue teardrop-shaped pendants to deep maroon set into a flower ring as though they were petals. Some of the more interesting shapes only added evidence to your owner-is-an-alchemist theory. There were even strings of pearls on display. It was difficult enough to get a single pearl imported through Aerugo, a whole string of them was practically impossible. The owner had to have transmuted them. Or maybe he had a small oyster farm in the back room, you couldn’t be sure. You turned from the impossible pearls and saw a smaller section with pieces of amber. You found yourself leaving fingerprints on the glass as you admired the honey-colored hues of the smaller gemstones. They were smoother than their faceted neighbors and didn’t have the sparkle of a diamond, but they were charming. They probably weren’t as popular as the more typical diamond, sapphire, and ruby pieces that you’d seen adorning the throats and fingers of the upper class. Ed’s voice calling your name from across the store pulled you from your thoughts and he waved you over. “I was thinking a bracelet for Winry, and everything I’ve seen her wear before has been silver, so…” he trailed off, biting his lip. You glanced at the display in front of him, which showcased different bracelets and watches, most of which with a silver coloration. “I haven’t seen much of her jewelry collection,” you pointed out. “What’s her style like? How elaborate, on a scale of one to ten?” “Uh, like a… four? Maybe? It’s on the lower end of the scale. She prefers things to be practical.” You mentally eliminated a few of the more detailed pieces and those with large charms attached. “Actually, I think-” He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a set of earrings. “Yeah, I still have some of her earrings from when we last went to Briggs.” He handed them to you. They were simple, likely steel. Not something that would draw attention, but they seemed nice enough despite the wear, probably from repeated use. They could use a polish. “Okay, then.” You handed them back to him and took another look at the display. A thick, segmented bracelet with what looked like a braided pattern caught your eye. “How about that one?”  The owner, who had been silently watching as you debated over his work, pulled it out of the case so that you and Ed could get a closer look at it. It was a little less than an inch thick on its widest point and was held closed by an unintrusive foldover clasp. “Yeah, I think she’d like this,” he said, taking it from its perch. “Gimme your hand,” he said to you. “What? Why?” You held out your hand to him despite him not answering your questions. He took your hand and secured the bracelet around your wrist. “How’s that feel?” “Uh…” The thick piece of jewelry was a noticeable weight on your wrist, but it wasn’t heavy enough to be uncomfortable. You twisted the cool metal around your wrist and found that it didn’t catch on your skin or pinch anywhere. “Little heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. Winry’s got more muscle than I do, anyway, so she probably won’t notice it.” You reached for the clasp before Ed could and released it. “I like the clasp, easy to use with one hand.” You turned the bracelet in your hand, watching it reflect the light. “Practical, yet elegant. She’ll like it.” Ed nodded and took the bracelet from you when you offered it and turned to the owner so that he could finalize his purchase. Within five minutes, you were leaving the store together with a nondescript paper bag. This, of course, was just late enough for you to miss the train back. “So, we have two hours to kill,” you said, sitting down next to Ed on a bench, train schedule in hand. “And there’s nothing to do in this town. Any ideas?” Ed leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “It’s about lunchtime. We could go find somewhere to eat,” he suggested.  “Sounds better than sitting around here for two hours, in any case.” You stood up and stuffed the schedule in your pocket. “I thought I saw a little family-owned place down the street if you want to check it out.” “Sure.” There weren’t many people walking around, probably because there weren’t many people in town anyway. The fact that there was even a restaurant in a tiny countryside town was a miracle in and of itself. There was a sign in the window that caught your eye before you went in. You grabbed Ed by the arm and pointed at the sign. FREE ICE CREAM DESSERT FOR COUPLES. “Think you could stomach pretending to be my boyfriend for free ice cream?” you asked. “Uh…” His cheeks went a pale pink that you could barely see through his tan. “Free ice cream.” “I get the feeling they’ll be able to tell we’re not actually together.” You scoffed. “I will have you know that I am a great actress. Especially when it involves manipulating people into giving me free food.” “You’re starting to sound like Ling.”  “That is a compliment to the Emperor of Xing, but off-topic. We can totally pull it off if you let me do the talking.” “I don’t even like ice cream,” he grumbled. “Bullshit, everyone likes ice cream. What’s the real reason? Are you lactose intolerant or something?” you guessed. He averted his gaze to the ground, his silence speaking for him. “Is that why you say you hate milk? Why don’t you just tell people you can’t have it?” “It’s dumb…” he said, crossing his arms defensively. “It’s not dumb, it’s a legitimate health concern,” you pointed out. “We can ask if they have a dairy-free alternative. And if they don’t, I’ll just eat yours too. Problem solved.” You slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. So that it would look more convincing, you told yourself. His palm was rough with callouses, but you attempted to push that to the back of your mind for the time being. “Let’s go,” you said,  pulling him toward the building. “Yeah, sure.” He didn’t put up a fight as you dragged him toward the restaurant, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to drag him anywhere if he did. “Just don’t tell Winry. She’ll blow a gasket if she finds out I was willing to do this just for ice cream.” “My lips are sealed.”

It didn’t take much searching to find out where the demons were supposed to be locate. Rumours had spread around the town about the dangers of the forest and the old mining shaft that it didn’t take a genius to piece together that something was up. Like usual, Rengoku lead the way, enthusiastic as they walked through the forest to find the shaft. Zenitsu looked a tad bit nervous, though that wasn’t unusual but it made Tanjirou feel bad anyway. He reached behind him, wrapping his pinky around his and smiling as he felt the blonde relax at his touch. It was a nice feeling, knowing that you can calm someone down without even needing to say anything. “I think I see it!” Rengoku exclaimed, running forward. The group quickly followed, rushing past the trees as a gaping hole in the side of mountain came into view. There was an old mine cart at the front, with a track leading into the cave. Tanjirou frowned, walking over and looking into the cart, stiffening when he realized the inside was full of bones. Muichiro peered in, picking one of them up and staring at it, “This is definitely too big to be an animal’s bones.” The group collectively looked to the cave, the sudden realization that there were at least 5 different human skeletons inside and if they’ve been terrorizing the area for a while, that means they’ve eaten well over 10 different humans. Sanemi moved first, unafraid as he headed inside the cave.“C’mon, no point staying.” The demon slayers all nodded, following the Wind Pillar as they travelled into the cave, the light dimming. Tanjirou sighed, touching over the walls, the rough rocks and minerals brushing against his skin almost painfully, grounding him. The shaft wasn’t very wide, with the ceiling being a little too short for Gyomei, who had to duck his head a bit. Eveyrthing was an erry kind of quiet, with only their collective footsteps echoing against the walls paired along with their breathing. Tanjirou never usually felt too scared when he was on missions. The awareness that he could die if he made a single wrong move did bother him but often in the moment, his fear would be replaced with blind determination. After all, he has Nezuko to take care, he couldn’t die yet, he’s busy. So, in battles, fear never really hindered him. However, the part that always left him a bit afraid was the beginning, before the battle even starts. The tense feeling of searching for an enemy that he didn’t truly understand. The redhead paused when he felt a gently caress against the back of his hand, turning to see Zenitsu giving him a shaky smile. He smiled back, letting his fingers to tangle with his. It was too dark and tense for anyone to see anyways. “It never gets any easier, huh?” Tanjirou mumbled, thinking back to the bones at the front. He was probably never going to get used to it. The blonde nodded, trembling a bit, “Y-Yeah…”Tanjirou watched him for a moment before squeezing his hand tightly, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll protect you.”“I know you will.”As they walked for a while longer, the shaft feeling like it was going on forever, Sanemi stopped. He looked around with a suspicious glare, eyes darting around. The Pillar readied his sword, with the rest of the Pillars doing the same. It felt like eyes were watching them, in the walls and the ceilings. Inosuke grunted, gripping his swords tightly, “There something wro-!”That’s when the floor cracked open, sending the group shouting in surprise as they fell down into tunnels that they didn’t realize were underneath them the whole time. Tanjirou shouted as he clung to Zenitsu’s hand tighter, hitting against the sides of the tunnels with his head and body. The rocks cut into their faces and hands, their haoris being torn in multiple places. They suddenly shot out of the tunnel, landing in what seemed to be a chamber of sorts that lead out two ends. Shining gems poked out against the rocks, giving the area a sort of mythical glow. The redhead groaned as he sat up, rubbing his cheek, the slightest bit of blood seeping out, “Zenitsu? Are you okay?” he heard a groan from his left, letting him breath out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank god.” He stood up, pulling up the blonde, who looked mostly fine, if a bit dirtier. Tanjirou looked around, frowning, “Is there anyone else with us?” “INCOMING!” The pair heard the echoing voice before jumping out of the way as Inosuke, Mitsuri and Rengoku fell through the hole and landed in the middle of the chamber. Tanjirou and Zenitsu rushed to help them up, their eyes silently checking them over for any major injuries. Luckily there were none as Mitsuri brushed out a rock from her hair. “Well that was unexpected.” She said, shaking off her clothes before looking around, “Wow it’s very pretty down here!” “Indeed!” Rengoku agreed, “But we must keep going!” He pointed in one direction, “Nowhere to go but forward!” There weren’t really any better plans so they listened, walking down the path with quite footsteps. Tanjirou held onto his sword, trying to smell the demon before it caught them off guard. As the walked, the gems in the walls started to become a soft pink. It gave off an almost unnatural glow. For a while, it was all quiet until the sound of someone humming faintly in the distance was heard. Inosuke growled and immediately started to run, making Tanjirou shout in surprise as he ran after him. “Inosuke, wait!” he called, chasing after him as the gems seemed to get bigger and brighter. They came into another chamber with cherry blossom petals covering the ground while a man sat in the middle, sipping on some tea. Taking a quick sniff of the air made it suddenly very clear to Tanjirou that this wasn’t a normal guy, he was a demon. The two Pillars and Zenitsu caught up to them pretty quickly, with Mitsuri having her sword out. The demon looked up, arching a brow with an amused expression, chuckling lowly as he twirled a paintbrush in his hands, “Oh? Looks like we have unexpected visitors. Don’t you know it’s rude to barge in uninvited?”They barely had any time to think before the ground below them started to rumble and large roots burst out of the ground, forcing the group to get out of the way. Tanjirou glared at the demon, watching as he didn’t seem to care, still writing on a piece of paper with his paint brush. He got up, running to get to him until a root flew out and hit him across the room, flying until he hit the ground with a thump.“Tanjirou!” Zenitsu exclaimed, dodging out of the way from a root. “I’m fine! Just focus on the fight!Rengoku was quick to try and cut through the plants, but as he swung down, his sword lodged into it instead, only giving him a second to get the sword out before the root jumped at him. Mitsuri tried to get as close as she could to the demon, but the roots were growing too fast and too violently that none of the demon hunters could seem to get even near the demon. “Isn’t it sad how beautiful things never last forever?” the demon mused, humming a gentle tune, “They wither away, disappearing and only lasting for a short amount of time. It’s like an allegory for life.”Tanjirou ducked under a root, sliding through another set that tried to pierce him and lunging over another. He jumped onto a root that lead straight to the demon, readying his blade to try and slice through the demon’s neck. When the root he was on swung up to shake him, he flew forward and went for the killing blow. But the demon moved to the left without a care in the world. He pulled out his paintbrush, whipping it and watching with glee as the paint hit across Tanjirou’s front. The redhead fell to the ground, gasping as he felt a burning feeling on his chest. He looked down, gulping as he saw the paint burn through part of his haori and some of his demon slayer outfit. It sizzled, the smell of chemicals strong enough that he could practically taste the bitterness. The demon giggled, holding his brush, “Don’t you love my paint? It’s just like acid, my favourite.” Tanjirou didn’t get an opportunity to get up as one of the roots slapped against one of the walls, making him shout for a second. He gasped, trying to catch his breath and trying to ease the pain. Warm hands touched his back, making him look up at Zenitsu, who looked worried. “Can you stand?” he asked, gingerly running his hand down his arm, “Please tell me you can stand, I don’t think I can be brave if you can’t stand.”The redhead shakily nodded, standing up and leaning against the blonde, “Y-Yeah. Watch out for the paint, it’s like acid.”“Noted.” The demon watched them for a moment before a sick smile came onto his face, “Oh how rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Ren and I too, loved dearly.”That caught the pair’s attention, looking at him with confused expressions. Inosuke didn’t seem too keen on listening to some demon monologue as he ran up a root, launching into the air and trying to come down with his swords. Ren turned to look at him before giggling, “Aw, look at you.” He moved out of the way, watching as the boar child hit the ground hard before slamming his foot down onto his back, grinding his foot against his spine, “Didn’t you learn that it’s rude to interrupt?” Rengoku saw this and rushed to get to the demon, “Let him go!” The demon seemed to smile as he pulled out a jar of ink, holding it out, “I wouldn’t move, if I were you. One step forward and I’ll pour this acid onto your friend here and let’s just say that it’ll burn and melt through his little human flesh like butter.” Tanjirou growled, enraged as he froze, “Don’t you dare!”Inosuke struggled under his foot, trying to get out despite the immense amount of pressure being put on his spine, “Get off of me!”Ren clicked his tongue, humming, “I would shut up.” He smirked as he let a drop of acid hit Inosuke’s skin, the sound of the demon slayer’s scream of pain making him giggle, “One more word out of you and I’ll drop this whole thing on you.” For once, the boy shuts up, biting his lip until it bleeds as he silenced his scream. The group seemed to be frozen, watching as the demon hummed to himself. “Now that I have your attention…” his eyes darts to Tanjirou and Zenitsu, who tensed immediately. The redhead was quick to stand in front of the blonde, glaring daggers. Ren smiled, “I was saying that I was once loved…not sure by who but I remember that I was loved like you. And yet…” he grinds his foot onto Inosuke’s back, “Love is fleeting. It doesn’t last forever, after all, tragedy always follows happiness.” Tanjirou clenched his jaw, looking to Rengoku and Mitsuri, who gave him a brief look. Whether or not they understood the full meaning of what Ren means by love is debatable. The demon grinned, “Happiness doesn’t last forever, little demon slayer. Just because something is going well now doesn’t mean that it won’t all shatter. After nothing lasts forever.” Tanjirou stared at him, the words feeling way too close to home. Thoughts of the happiness of his family and then the tragedy of losing them came to mind. The thought that something might come and take the happiness he had now was terrifying. Zenitsu glared, stepping forward, “I would worry about yourself lasting forever, if I were you.” “Hm-?!”The sound of Mitsuri shouting made Ren turn, the Love Pillar slashing down her flexible blade down and slicing the demon’s torso. He tripped, falling over and Inosuke quickly ran out, landing next to Zenitsu and Tanjirou. Ren growled out, turning to Mitsuri before being attacked by Rengoku, who slashed at the demon. He grabbed his acid and tried to it splash onto the Pillar while growing the roots up to keep them away. “I wouldn’t focus on those guys! After all, you’re facing two Pillars!” the Flame Pillar exclaimed, looking to the trio, “Keep moving, we’ll take care of this! There’s must be more demons if you keep going! Go!” The trio looked to the Flame Pillar, who offered them a confident smile before dodging out of the way of a root. Mitsuri glanced at her comrade before saying, “I’ll provide cover for you! Go!” They nodded, running towards to the exit on the other side of the chamber while Mitsuri deflected the roots and acid. As they ran out, Tanjirou could hear Ren shouting out, “Watch out little demon slayer, the end is coming!”As his friends ran down the path, the redhead turned for a moment and said, “If nothing lasts forever, then the end won’t last either.” He ran down the path, the sound of hard root hitting against metal following him.

    The drive home, which would normally be peaceful as he is alone in the car keeps getting interrupted by text message after text message blowing up his phone. The device which he has sitting in the mount he has for the car keeps vibrating and every time he thinks it will finally stop it would buzz again the screen flashing to life. From what he can see from the short span a text is on his screen nothing much as been resolved at home. Stiles is still apparently in the worst mood anyone has seen, tossing anything within arms reach at them if they disturb him. Now while Cora was trying to place the blame on Chris from tossing Stiles around a good part of the day. Which he would have to talk to the man about, Stiles was still dealing with a bit a pain from the spell after all and sparing wasn't what he had in mind when he asked Chris to train the boy. He would be there doing it himself but he was still busy with a bit of a legal battle about a property line he knew his family owned. That being said, he knew his boy was far more stressed then the pack seemed to understand. Not only was he expected to learn how to use his Forest God Powers properly, he also had to weed through thousands of books to find out what was dwelling in the forest feeding on magic. That coupled with the guilt Peter still knew his little mate felt over the loss of life, Stiles was well on his way head first into a melt down. While he found a bit of enjoyment of him tossing things at the pack, he did not find it funny his boy was so high strung he was bound to reek of anxiety. A scent he didn't enjoy on his mate. Stiles should only smell of happiness and loved. He should smell of contentment and warmth, not inky like his anxiety tends to make him smell. With that in mind, he decided to be done with his business for the night to help calm his mate. He guessed in turn save the pack, though if they were still failing to pick up the scent of stress a few good pegs with a book or frying pan were warranted. His phone only stops buzzing the moment in pulls into the garage, the pack no doubt hearing the quite purr his beloved car. Stiles Jeep is parked next to his, though he hadn't driven in it in a few weeks. The Escalade was next to it, and though a three car garage had been a last minute addition he was still glad he did it. Making his way into the house Peter pause in the kitchen, ears first locking in on his mate down in the library. Who by the way Stiles was grumbling like an angry little goblin was still in a foul mood. Next he hurries up the stairs, by passing the pack who are now all hiding in the media room. Someone shouts for him Erica from the sound of it, though he ignores her. Stopping at a door, Peter quietly pushes it open peeking inside. Zayd was sleeping peacefully oblivious to Stiles anger and the packs disgruntled annoyance at being assaulted with flying objects. A camera with a speaker attached had been installed the day after Stiles had the room made up, a way for his mate to keep an eye on Zayd if he was down in the basement library. Seeing as his little mate didn't have the bonus of super hearing he liked being able to watch and listen for the boy from the tablet monitor that came with the device. Content the boy would sleep till morning Peter moves back towards the media room and steps inside. Chris and Allison were on the farthest end of the sectional Jordan to was packed in close to Chris. Peter had noticed the pair of them growing oddly close but has yet to say anything. He knew Stiles was building up to tease his dads deputy so he reframed from doing so himself. Jackson and Isaac sat in the middle, both teens turned to look at him with frowns on their face. Scott was pouting at him his black eye already healed, though Peter was a bit saddened he hadn't got to see it. Erica and Boyd were curled around one another though they two were glaring towards their Alpha. Cora looked miffed and Derek's eyebrows had migrated into his hairline somewhere probably never to be found. “So, out of the ten of you, only three can not smell emotions.” Peter states, pointing towards the Argent's and Parrish. “That leaves seven of you who can, so my question is how come no one used their nose to figure out Stiles was stressed?” The wolves all frown looking properly scolded. “How about next time instead of texting me and Noah to save you, you all try to ask if he needs help, shall we?” “Yes Alpha.” Comes the melody of several replies. “Good, now I'm going down stairs to deal with the little goblin. You are all to stay put up here or go to your rooms, unless of course you want an eye full.” “Ew, Uncle Peter!” Cora cries as Peter chuckles and makes his way back down stairs. There was one sure fire way to help his boy relieve stress and he didn't want anyone but himself to have the privilege of seeing that.   *-*-*-*-*-*   He finds his little mate leaning over one of the many tables, books a many opened before him. His laptop sat to one side, a thick notebook and pens close by. The tablet with the video feed to Zayd's room was on the other side, books no where near it to keep it in view. Stiles had a pencil in his mouth, and two more in each hand scribbling down who knows what on a different notebook. There's a steady grumble from behind the yellow pencil in his mouth, his teeth clenches as he bit down on it. “Now sweetheart.” Peter says, pulling the thing from his mouth. “You're going to make your jaw hurt biting down on that so tightly. Stiles sighs up at him with a small smile. “Hey Big Bad, when did you get home?” Peter smiles in return. “Just a few moments ago, I hear you've been assaulting the pack with books and frying pans.” Stiles snorts, “I wouldn't say I assaulted them, they just kept bugging me for things while I'm busy.” Stiles glances down at several open books, glaring at them with frustrated honey eyes. “So far I haven't found anything useful, I think the only thing I have accomplished is making my back hurt.” Hearing this, Peter lets his hand rest on the small of Stiles back drawing his pain. He was in a fair amount of it making the wolf hissed displeased. Once he was down he lets his hand slip under the red shirt his boy was wearing, using his thumbs to work out the knots there. Stiles sighs happily at that, dropping his pencils on the table so he could fall forward to give Peter better access. “I think it's time you took a break for the night love.” Peter says, stepping behind his mate so he could use both hands to knead the tense muscles in Stiles slim back. “Mmm, if you keep that up I'll do anything you want.” Stiles hums out, flopping his chest against the table gracelessly. “Well I have something much better in mind to help you unwind sweetheart.” Peter says, moving his palms farther up Stiles back, his smooth warm skin always felt buttery soft against Peter's palms. “You gonna spank me?” Stiles asks teasingly, shaking his round as at Peter. “Not tonight sweetheart, but if you ask nicely maybe another time.” Stiles grunts when Peter finds a painful knot, and his quick to draw that pain away as he works it out of the muscles. He can't say he's to happy with how tight Stiles back is, and files it away for later to send him to get an adjustment from a chiropractor. While he was sure of his ability to give a wonderful massage, he wasn't going to risk his mate by trying to pop his back. Stiles glances back at his honey eyes going dark with desire. They had of course falling into long sessions of love making, and each time was more magical than the next but that had always been in a bed. Tonight Peter had plans on taking him hard, knowing Stiles wasn't in the mood for soft tonight. Not with how frustrated he was. Only after they had both found their release, Stiles first of course would Peter take him upstairs for a bubble bath and would give him a proper massage. Picking his boy up Peter turns placing Stiles on a clear table quickly removing his shirt. His big hands find his way to his mates slim waist all that pretty pale flesh flushed pink for him. He always marveled over how sensitive Stiles was, how the smallest touch made him blush and his heart quicken. His palms travel up his flat belly, while he wasn't packing a six pack and hard muscle he wasn't soft either. He was slim, a runners body if Peter ever saw one, and Peter loved it. While it was possible he had a bit of a size kink he did love being bigger than his little mate. “Peter.” Stiles whimpers, when the wolfs fingers tweak at his pearled nipples. Stiles arches into the touch, biting into his bottom lip. “What do you want sweetheart?” Peter asks, fingers trailing between the dip between Stiles collarbones. Leaning forwards he sucks a nipple into his mouth biting lightly, gifted a moan within seconds. “I want you.” Stiles begs, opening his legs wider for Peter to step in-between them. Releasing Stiles nipple Peter says. “You have me.” Stiles growls making Peter grin. “I want you to fuck me Peter.” In seconds he has his mate naked and spread out before him on the table. Still fully clothed himself Peter's eyes drink in his fill of his beautiful mate. Stiles is staring up at him, pink lips wet from licking and biting at them, watching Peter look at him. A slim palm slips under his shirt, grabbing the hem till it's ripped off Peter's chest and tossed aside landing who knows where. Stiles hums happily, kissing Peter's bare chest, caressing it lovingly. “You're so handsome.” Stiles says, kissing at Peter's neck his tongue sweeping out to lick at his pulse point. Clever fingers work their way down his chest, pulling at his belt and unbuttoning his pants pulling them down just enough to release his hard cock. Stiles grins, stroking him till he's panting and growing. Not one to just take from his lover he pushes his boy back till he's laying across the table, Stiles finds his knees at his chest and Peter's big palms holding him in place. “Look at you.” Peter praises, eyes on his waiting hole. “Peter, please.” Stiles begs, big eyes growing bigger as he begs. Dropping to his knees Peter's buries his face between those lush cheeks, tasting his boy. Teasing him. Stiles shouts, bowing off the table, slim fingers tangling in Peter's hair, demanding more. Peter grins against his skin, while he did love to tease Stiles for some time, he knew his boy couldn't handle that tonight. Falling forward Peter buries his tongue deep, licking at the soft walls inside his wonderful mate, loving the taste of him. Stiles screams, whimpering as Peter eats him out, holding onto his wolfs hair for all his worth. Loving every stroke of that clever tongue stabbing into him. Loving every slurp and growl as Peter taste him. His eyes roll into the back of his head when a thick finger makes it's way inside, it burns slightly but he's always loved it. Loved Peter inside him, no matter what part it was. Loved that his mate took so much time to prep him properly. One finger became two, stroking and thrusting into him, then two became three, making him pant and moan at being breached. Peter stretches and thrust, working him open so wonderfully he could cum from this alone if he really wanted to. He didn't, he wanted his wolf in him, hard and fast. “Peter, Peter please!” Stiles begs, pulling on his hair, trying to get Peter do as he wanted. Fingers rub against his prostate, making him cry out in pleasure, then his wolf was pulling away and standing. Stroking that long thick cock, hovering over Stiles ready hole but not entering. “Look at you sweet boy.” Peter growls, bending to kiss him. Stiles can taste himself on Peter's tongue and lips. Peter rumbles deep in his chest, fingers sinking into Stiles head to deepen the kiss, loving when he had the chance to worship his boys pretty lips. Thick fingers bit into Stiles ass as Peter positions himself, cocks rubbing at the waiting hole in front of him. His saliva would have to be good enough for lube at the moment, while he knew Stiles loved the burn, he still preferred to have the extra lubrication to prevent tearing. Planting his feet flat, and pulling down his jeans a bit more, Peter pops the head of his cock inside, watching Stiles face for pain. Stiles whimpers, pushing back against the cock entering him. There's no trace of pain. Grinning Peter thrust hard, slamming forward till he was buried deep as he could go. Stiles screams, hands falling above his head to hold onto the table, his legs still firmly held in Peter's big hands. “Yes.” Stiles hisses, “Fuck, you're so big.” Pleased, Peter pulls back then thrust in hard once more, the slap of skin echos in the library, bouncing of cement walls. Stiles curses, always so vocal when they made love or fucked like animals. Peter loved it, loved to hear Stiles get pleasure from him. He keeps his pace slow at first, pulling out and thrusting back in hard. Loving the blissed out look on Stiles face as he was taken apart. “Faster Peter.” Stiles demands, “Fuck me faster.” “Hold on tight sweetheart.” Peter pants, pulling his boy down till his ass was hanging off the table. He spreads Stiles legs out farther, getting a better view of his lovely face. Buried deep within his beautiful mate Peter leans down for a moment to give him a sweet kiss. Then he lets loose thrusting hard and fast, working his cock harder and deeper. Spurred on by every whimper and every scream of pleasure. Every thrust got him a pretty moan, every retreat a sad sigh. Each slam of that bundle of nerves deep within Stiles lite him up like a firework, had him crying out and begging for more. “Oh, fuck.” Stiles shouts, holding tight to the table, loving every slam of Peter's cock buried deep within him. “Oh god, don't stop!” Stiles shouts, back bowed, legs shaking as he took every fast thrust. His cock laid across his belly, bouncing and drooling against his skin. “Take it.” Peter moans, slamming harder, pushing deeper. “Love your cock.” Stiles sings, moaning loud, uncaring if anyone could hear them from down here. Peter suddenly releases Stiles legs, hands and arms work their way around his boys back till he's being lifted off the table and cradled against Peter's strong chest. Stiles cries out at the change in position, think arms making their away around Peter's neck as his legs wrap tightly around Peter's strong hips. In this position Stiles cock is trapped against their bellies, rubbing between warm sweaty skin as Peter's thick fingers take handfuls of his ass bouncing the boy onto his cock. Stiles can do nothing but hold on for the ride, trusting Peter not to drop him. Loving how deep his cock can reach like this, loved being held as he was fucked into oblivion. “Oh god!” Stiles cries, head tilted back, mouth opened as he pants through his pleasure. Loving every rumble and growl Peter lets loose as he fuck's up into him. “Cum!” Peter demands, jerking him down hard onto his stiff cock. Stiles can do nothing but obey. Screaming through his orgasm as it rocks through him. The room seems to darken as he slumps forward against Peter, body shaking with the after shock. He can feel Peter's cock jerk in him, filling him up and he loved every second of it. “I love you.” Stiles pants, kissing Peter's neck. “I love you always.” Peter says in answer.          

Only once the onigiri was cleared and Osamu had gone back to work, did Atsumu finally decide to regale the others with the basics of his plan. The idea had been floating around in his mind since yesterday morning as nothing but a distant, formless concept. But now that Sakusa was on board and worth every ounce of his salt, it was beginning to take a very real, very solid shape. ‘We’re going classic,’ he told them. ‘A good, old fashioned heist by the book. Hit ‘em with the Uno reverse.’ Hinata’s shoulders sagged. ‘So, no helicopters?’ Atsumu shook his head. ‘No fireworks?’ Atsumu shook his head again. ‘Spray paint?’ ‘Nope.’ Sakusa closed the lid of his laptop. ‘What’s the catch?’ he asked. ‘There has to be one. I find it hard to believe you of all people would pull a stunt so… ordinary.’ Sakusa probably meant that in a derogatory sense, but it was actually the nicest thing he’d said to Atsumu all day. If he gave  a single shit about what Sakusa thought, he might have even blushed. ‘I’m glad you asked, Omi-Omi!’ Atsumu interlocked his fingers and stretched them out in front of himself until the bones cracked. ‘But first, answer me this: what is the most humiliatin’ experience known to humankind?’ Bokuto raised a hand and said immediately, ‘Shitting yourself in an inescapable public setting.’ Atsumu snapped his fingers and pointed at him. ‘Correct.’ Sakusa had tucked his mask beneath his chin to eat and forgotten to replace it since, so Atsumu could see the way his face pinched in disgust. ‘You’d better elaborate on that right now, Miya.’ ‘Sure, sure. Listen closely, kids.’ Atsumu leaned forward and beckoned the others to do the same. Hinata and Bokuto were enthusiastic and cupped their hands around their ears; Sakusa barely moved an inch. ‘The night of the gatherin’, we’re gonna make the Adlers metaphorically crap their own pants, right in front of the whole damn thievin’ community.’ ‘How are we going to do that, Atsumu-san?’ Hinata whispered. ‘Since the Adlers have the paintin’, they’ll be hosting the gatherin’, correct?’ Everyone nodded. ‘Right, so they’ll be the ones to unveil it to the crowd and announce themselves as the winners, yeah?’ They nodded again. ‘But what if the paintin’ they unveil isn’t actually the paintin’?’ Hinata gasped. Bokuto smiled and said, ‘Oh?’ ‘What if some Super Sexy Stealth Jackals had already sneaked their way in the night before and—’ ‘—and replaced it with an identical replica,’ Sakusa mused. Atsumu grinned. ‘Precisely, Omi-Omi. What d’ya think? That extraordinary enough? We three hooligans meetin’ yer expectations?’ Sakusa considered him. It was only for a moment, but to Atsumu it felt like an eternity. His gaze was doing that thing again, the thing it had done in the IT office, the thing that made Atsumu feel as though his soul was lying bare on an operating table, and Sakusa was the surgeon picking it apart. Had Osamu turned the heating up in the restaurant?   ‘I think there’s still room for improvement,’ said Sakusa. ‘But it’ll do, I suppose.’ Atsumu blinked. And here he’d been expecting Sakusa to shoot him down, to scoff at him and mock him and offer up a far more boring plan of his own. Instead, he carried on surprising Atsumu by pulling out a small pen and notepad from his jacket pocket and saying, ‘What are we going to need?’ ‘Huh?’ ‘For the heist and the unveiling.’ He tapped the pen against the paper. ‘We’re working without Meian’s budget and access to MSBY’s supplies, but we’re going to need stuff, right? A convincing replica, a getaway car, earpieces, probably some woollen blankets to avoid the thermal imaging cameras. Make a list,’ he said. ‘I’ll buy it.’ Who the hell did this guy think he was? A fucking billionaire? Meian’s budgets could stretch hundreds of thousands if the job demanded it; clients paid handsomely for the priceless items the Jackals stole. But The Monster Heist was considered extra-curricular - even when Meian had been on board he’d set them strict allowances. It was why Atsumu had resorted to stealing a fire truck rather than just buying one. There was absolutely no way one person could foot the bill of a heist – not on such short notice. Atsumu had already started forming contingency plans for the things the Jackals combined pockets couldn’t afford. ‘The hell d’ya mean you’ll buy it? That shit’s expensive, Omi, forget it. I was just gonna—’ ‘I don’t care what you were just gonna do.’ Sakusa looked bored by the whole thing. He kept spinning the pen artfully around his fingers, and Atsumu was not watching them. He wasn’t. ‘I don’t do things unless I do them perfectly, so tell me what it’s going to take to pull this off, and I’ll take care of it.’ ‘Woaaah, Omi-san.’ Hinata’s eyes bulged, and his lip wobbled. ‘That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard, and Atsumu-san says cool stuff all the time.’ ‘I need a van!’ said Bokuto. ‘A white one! With a minibar in the back.’ Atsumu watched in horror as Sakusa nodded and wrote it down. ‘Wha—’ Hinata threw a hand up. ‘Ooh! I need a pair of suction-cup gloves! To climb the walls! Atsumu-san won’t buy me them because he thinks I’m going to use them to climb the Sky Tree, but I won’t, I promise! Pretty please, Omi-san!’ Sakusa’s scrawled the words suction cup gloves in hideously illegible cursive. Suddenly, Atsumu felt very left out. ‘Fine!’ he huffed. ‘I’ll bite. What’s yer budget?’ ‘There is no budget.’ ‘That’s really hot of you to say, Omi, but everyone has a budget.’ Atsumu liked to say that all the time when he was footing Jackals’ food bill because it made him look like the charming heartthrob that he was, but there was always a voice in the back of his head reminding him how much he could spend before it would start to cut into his rent payments. It was quickly becoming apparent that Sakusa didn’t possess that voice at all. He said, ‘And I’m telling you there isn’t one.’ Was Sakusa secret royalty or something? An anonymous CEO? The son of a president? How could he say shit like that so brazenly? Atsumu narrowed his eyes in a sceptical question. ‘So, what? You’d buy me a building if I asked?’ The pen swapped hands, and Sakusa switched up the pattern he used to twirl it. ‘If you needed it for the heist, then yes.’ Osamu really needed to turn the heating down in this place, why was it so goddamn warm? With a look of complete exasperation, Atsumu turned to Bokuto and Hinata, offered his upturned palm and said, ‘We did it, boys. We’ve finally bagged ourselves a sugar daddy!’ Hinata and Bokuto took turns low fiving him. With drawl so deadpan it just sounded dead, Sakusa said, ‘Absolutely do not call me that ever again.’ ‘Sure, dad—’ ‘I’m serious.’ Sakusa stopped spinning the pen. ‘Say it one more time and the next thing I buy will be a hit on your life. I know a guy who’ll make it so that you won’t even see it coming, and another guy who’ll make it so your body will never be found.’ ‘Oof.’ Atsumu fanned his face with his hand. ‘You gotta lay off the dirty talk, Omi, or I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like me.’ Sakusa cleared his throat. ‘It’d be a cold day in hell, Miya.’ Atsumu propped his elbows up on the table and rested his chin in his palm to leer at Sakusa -  his face had reddened, probably because he was angry, or maybe it was because of Osamu’s evident heating problem. Though, it didn't seem to bother Hinata or Bokuto. ‘I wouldn’t sound so sure ‘bout that y’know. I’ve heard global warming is fuckin’ up a whole bunch of things.’ Sakusa gave Atsumu an acetic once over and said, ‘Evidently.’ Then he slid the notebook and pen across the table in Atsumu’s direction. ‘Get me a list by tomorrow.’ Atsumu tucked the notebook into his pocket and the pen behind his ear. ‘Roger that, Captain Moneybags.’ If Sakusa wanted his list so bad, Atsumu would get him his damn list and then some.           Tuesdays were always slow. The office, despite not even being a real office, was so depressingly silent, Atsumu swore he could feel it sucking out his lifeforce. It made the urge to get up and bother Sakusa surprisingly overwhelming, and he had to remind himself more than once that he couldn’t; they were due to meet later at a coffee shop near Atsumu’s apartment for the list handoff and he had a whole speech planned for each of the items he knew Sakusa would quiz him on. Across the office, Hinata and Bokuto were still committed to their respective sulks, though they had traded sleeping atop their keyboards for sitting up and staring blankly at the walls. Occasionally, one of them would drop the act to pick up their phone and send Atsumu a text. This time, it was Hinata.   (11:35) From: shouyou do u really think omi-san is going to buy us all that stuff????? do u think he’s rich???? ???????   Atsumu had contemplated the very same thing the night before as he’d gotten into bed and started writing his list, but no matter how hard he tried to picture otherwise, he just couldn’t envision Sakusa being anything other than filthy rich. He had that laptop and mouse, and God knows how many other gadgets lying about. Atsumu certainly couldn’t afford them on his shaky wages. Everything he used – gadgets, disguises, cars - was a part of MSBY’s stock.   (11:37) To: shouyou probably hackers r always rich boys too much time on their hands   (11:38) From: shouyou hmmmmmmm true (11:40) From: shouyou do u think u could find a way to make a dog part of the heist so omi-san will buy me one? i’ll take good care of it   (11:41) To: shouyou i’ll see what I can do 4 u my precious boy   Chess and minesweeper had lost their touch, so once he’d helped Hinata with picking hypothetical puppy breeds and names, Atsumu loaded up Miami Shark, because there was something entrancingly therapeutic about tearing down helicopters with the digital jaws of a voracious apex predator. It helped clear the mind. But Atsumu only got as far as sinking a cruise liner before he was interrupted by his mouse suddenly developing a mind of its own, closing the web browser and opening a notepad document. He pushed himself and his wheeled office chair away from his desk and stared wide-eyed and terrified at the screen as words started to appear. Miami Shark didn’t contain viruses… right? 3F supply room in ten minutes. Atsumu glanced around, but nobody else seemed to have a computer possessed by the Ghost of Christmas Future. Hinata and Bokuto were sitting like zombified bookends. Adriah and Barnes were busy with calls. The blinds to Meian’s office were half-closed, but Atsumu could still see him through the slats, reading a book with his feet up on the desk, unbothered. It wasn’t a virus then. It was clearly just an Atsumu Problem. Those seemed to crop up pretty often these days. He wet his lips nervously and turned back to his screen where the cursor was blinking at him, awaiting a response. God, he typed cautiously, is that you? He really hoped it wasn’t. That would probably be really, really embarrassing - blasphemy was his middle name, after all. But maybe it wasn’t a god, maybe it was a ghost. Like the one from that movie Osamu had forced him to watch last Halloween. That would be in line with Atsumu’s luck, for the ghost to haunt the wrong fucking twin. The reply was fast: No. It’s Sakusa Atsumu wheezed and dropped his head atop the keyboard so that the next typed words were just strings of jumbled letters. Of course it was fucking Sakusa, he scolded himself. Who else would it be? They were unwilling partners now; he was going to need to contact him somehow and he’d run off last night before Atsumu’d had the chance to get his number. Once his heart had dislodged itself from his throat and returned to his chest, Atsumu rolled up his sleeves and typed earnestly: if u wanted to get me alone that badly u could have just asked for my number ;) Sakusa’s next reply took a little longer. If I wanted your number at all, I’d already have it by now. Because I could hack it, I mean, not because I would ever The words started to delete themselves. Then Sakusa gave up and just kept typing regardless. This doesn’t even matter. Just find a way to get to the supply room without raising suspicion. I need to talk to you.   Easy as pie omi. U can watch me from inu-san's monitors if u want. observe the master at work. Ive heard security cameras make my ass look gr8 ;) I will be busy walking to the supply room, Miya. oh yea. cool. Of course. Ok. C u ther. The notepad closed. Miami Shark resumed. Atsumu blinked at the GAME OVER screen and wondered what the hell had just happened. If Sakusa could remotely control Atsumu’s computer, did that mean he could do it to anyone’s? Bokuto’s? Meian’s? The Adlers’? His mind started to burn with questions, the most pressing being what the hell was so urgent that Sakusa couldn’t wait until after work to discuss it with him. He supposed there was only one way to find out. Without bothering to shut his computer down, Atsumu grabbed his coat and his wallet and made a beeline for Meian’s office door. ‘Mornin’, Meian-san,’ he said as he poked his head around the door. ‘Thought I’d take my lunch early, get the office a round of coffee, liven’ the place up. You want the usual?’ Meian looked up from his book and smiled. ‘Sure, Miya, that’s a great idea. Hey, here,’ he held up a hand to stop Atsumu walking off, then proceeded to fish his own wallet from his pocket. ‘Use the company card. Don’t hold back, yeah?’ Atsumu took the card with two fingers and used it to salute Meian. ‘When have I ever, boss?’ On a separate page of Sakusa’s little notepad, Atsumu made a show of walking around the office and jotting down everybody’s coffee orders, then he took the elevator down to the ground floor, and climbed the stairs two at a time, all the way back up to the third. Sakusa was already waiting for him outside the supply room, tapping his foot and checking his wrist for the time like Atsumu had kept him waiting two hours rather than two minutes. The moment Sakusa saw Atsumu approach, he turned on his heel and used his lanyard key to open the door. He didn’t bother holding it open; Atsumu had to sprint to catch it with his foot before it slammed and locked again in his face. The supply room was just that: a room filled floor-to-ceiling with heist supplies. In his time as an MSBY thief, Atsumu had used almost everything inside it at one point or another, from the boxes of rolled up blueprints, to the bags of rope, and tubs full of lockpicks and forged keys. There were racks of clothes in all sorts of styles and sizes, mannequin heads displaying various wigs and caps, and crates of shoes, boots, and slippers to match. Spare console towers were stacked against the walls with baseball bats and wire cutters and sledgehammers resting against them in duffel bags. Sakusa stalked past all of it to a secluded corner at the back. The fit for two grown men in a cluttered supply room was tight; they ended up standing as close together as they had done at Onigiri Miya’s entrance last night. Atsumu wondered if that was OK now that they weren’t arguing, but Sakusa didn’t seem to mind. Atsumu spoke first. He leaned one shoulder against the metal shelves and looked up at Sakusa. ‘Did ya have to contact me so dramatically? I almost shit my—woah, hey, Omi, you doin’ OK? Ya look like hell.’ It wasn’t a jab, or a lie – just an astute observation. Sakusa looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink since they’d parted ways the night before. His hair was ever so slightly askew of its usual parting, his tie was crooked, and there were deep, dark circles cutting lines beneath his bloodshot eyes. He still smelled great -like strong coffee and cologne - but it was the unruliest Atsumu had ever seen him; he hadn’t even bothered to put on a mask. It felt wrong, like Atsumu was seeing something he shouldn’t be. Sakusa clicked his tongue and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Gee,’ he said, ‘thanks.’ ‘Hey, I don’t mean it like that, I’m just— You get any sleep last night?’ Atsumu would never admit that it was genuine concern pushing him to ask. He just didn’t want Meian asking questions when he caught Sakusa walking around like a zombie, that was all. He didn’t know how far Sakusa’s acting skills could stretch. ‘No,’ Sakusa admitted. ‘I was busy trying to get into the Adlers’ system.’ ‘Shit,’ said Atsumu. If Sakusa had called him here, then that could only mean one thing. ‘How bad is it?’ Sakusa ran a hand through his hair and spoke to the ceiling rather than Atsumu. ‘I’ve made a start on breaking through the code passwords,’ Sakusa sighed as Atsumu counted the moles on his neck. There were four, starting from the base of his throat, and climbing their way up to his jawline that moved each time he spoke. For a brief, mortifying second, he wondered if they continued below the line of his shirt. Atsumu shook the thought away and Sakusa continued, ‘But it’s useless. They’ve got thumbprint recognition technology.’ ‘Shit,’ Atsumu said again. With feeling. It was no wonder Sakusa was acting suspiciously like the end of the fucking world was nigh. Atsumu was no expert, but he knew how tough systems like that were to crack. ‘Shouyou-kun mentioned they’d had a new system installed. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.’ ‘It’s not just bad, Miya, it’s—’ Sakusa let out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s the end of the line. I can’t access anything. You could give me all the time in the fucking world, but the cameras, the lasers, the doors; I can’t touch a single one of them. Not without an Adler thumbprint. Ushijima’s got us.’ Atsumu paused. A thumbprint? All Sakusa needed to force the Adlers’ to their knees was a measly thumbprint? He would have laughed if he wasn’t so concerned that Sakusa might reach for one of the baseball bats and club him with it. Atsumu shrugged and said like it was no big deal, ‘Then I’ll just get you a thumbprint.’ Sakusa scowled at him. ‘And how the hell are you going to manage that in ten days?’ ‘Oh ye of little faith.’ ‘I’m serious, Miya.’ The scowl deepened, and Sakusa crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I’ve run jobs like this with Meian-san before. It can take months to get clean prints, and that’s with direct access to the mark. Even worse, the Adlers know us all by face. You’re good, but you’re not that good.’ Atsumu did laugh that time. ‘Y’know, yer funnier than I thought, Omi.’ He reached out, intending to pat him condescendingly on the shoulder, but then he remembered Sakusa didn’t like to be touched and picked up a wrench from the shelf beside him instead. As he considered it, an idea popped into his head. ‘We can go and get yer prints tomorrow, if ya like?’ ‘We?’ ‘Yeah, Omi, we. It’ll be a two-man job and I don’t trust Bokuto ‘Shovel-Hands’ Koutarou, or Hinata ‘Butter-Fingers’ Shouyou to lift delicate prints.’ ‘Why can’t you do it?’ Atsumu grinned. ‘Because I’ll be busy doing something else. You got a kit?’ Sakusa nodded, because of course he had a forensic fingerprint kit just lying about. ‘Great, let’s go. I’ll tell you ‘bout the plan over coffee.’ Sakusa stilled. ‘Just tell me here.’ ‘No can do, Omi-Omi. I’ve got orders to pick up and calls to make. Yer gonna have to come with. Betcha haven’t eaten yet either, right?’ He flashed Sakusa the company card. ‘Meian-san’s treat.’ Sakusa looked as though he was about to refuse, but then his stomach growled loud enough for Atsumu to hear. He waved the card again. ‘Fine,’ said Sakusa. ‘Wait outside. I’ll go get my coat.’ Sakusa led the charge towards the door, but he stopped short when he arrived and Atsumu almost crashed into him again. ‘Ya gotta stop stoppin’, Omi! Yer gonna cause a collision one of these days. I’m a big boy, y’know, I might break somethin’—hey, what’s the hold up? You gonna open the door or what?’ ‘I can’t,’ was all Sakusa said. ‘The hell d’ya mean ya can’t. It’s just a door, how hard can it be?’ ‘I can’t.’ Sakusa rattled the handle so hard Atsumu thought he might break it. ‘It’s locked.’ ‘Uh. What? How?’ Sakusa ignored him. ‘Great.’ He turned around, thumped his head back against the door and closed his eyes. ‘This is just great. To be locked in a room with you of all people.’ ‘Hey, what the fuck?’ They weren’t friends by any means, but Atsumu had thought they’d made some real progress over the last two days. He certainly didn’t think the idea of his company warranted such a negative response – Sakusa looked a minute away from picking up the sledgehammer and bashing his way out. ‘Lotsa people in this office would kill for this kind of opportunity y’know. I was voted MSBY’s Most Handsome three years runnin’.’ ‘Not by me,’ Sakusa grumbled. Atsumu stuck his tongue out at him. Usually, he reserved such ugly and childish tactics for when he was losing an argument against Osamu, but it hardly mattered now; Sakusa already thought the worst of him. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he sneered. ‘Still won it.’ ‘You also won Most Likely to Lead MSBY into Financial Ruin, and Most Likely to Get Arrested.’ ‘Yeah, well, you won Biggest Prick.’ ‘That wasn’t a category.’ ‘Is now. And you’ve just won it. Unanimously.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Congrats, Omi.’ The last thing Atsumu expected Sakusa to do was laugh. It was more of a huff, really, a slight releasing of air through his nose, but in Atsumu’s eyes, Sakusa might as well have doubled over wheezing. Perhaps more importantly, he caught the beginnings of small smile tugging at the corner of Sakusa’s lips. It made Atsumu pause to see - a genuine Sakusa Kiyoomi smile – even if it was at his own expense. Somehow, it made him want to delve deep into the recesses of his brain for more jokes, for quips or witty sayings – something, anything, to make the smile last just a little longer— Did MSBY also have a heating problem? Why did he suddenly feel the need to loosen his tie? Maybe he was just coming down with something. ‘Can’t you, um,’—he cleared his throat– ‘Can’t you just, like, hack us out of here? Isn’t the door digital?’ Sakusa hummed. His smile had faded and Neutral Sakusa had returned. ‘I left my phone in the office.’ Atsumu held out his own phone. ‘So use mine.’ ‘I can’t. It doesn’t have the software.’ ‘Tch,’ Atsumu scoffed. ‘I s’pose brawn is better than brain after all.’     (12:20) To: the bokkunator bro I am literally locked in 3f supply room come get me out be discreet (12:21) From: the bokkunator ON MY WAY CAPTAIN! Remember to breathe! But not too fast or you might use up all the air and die?   ‘Bokkun’s on the way,’ he said and pocketed his phone again. ‘He’ll get us out.’ ‘No he won’t,’ Sakusa said with far too much certainty. Atsumu thought he was about to insult Bokuto’s abilities, but instead he said, ‘We’re not getting out of here until he decides we can.’ So now Sakusa was some kind of prophetic messenger? What next? ‘Who’s he?’ ‘Inunaki.’ Atsumu tilted his head. Why would Inunaki lock them in the supply room? He’d given Atsumu his word he’d help them, not hinder them. Was this a double-cross? Was he Meian’s spy all along? The room suddenly felt even smaller, the distance between them shorter, the mannequin head staring at Atsumu with its fuck-ugly button eyes that much creepier. ‘He betrayin’ us or somethin’?’ Atsumu shifted his weight nervously. ‘We about to get busted?’ Sakusa gave another contemplative hum. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Inunaki just fancies himself a comedian, that’s all. Don’t worry. once we get out of here, I’ll make sure to tell him not to quit his day job.’ Atsumu didn't know what to say to that, so he pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it over to Sakusa. It was three pages long, double sided.  'Your handwriting is atrocious,' Sakusa said as his eyes scanned the words. 'Thanks. So is yours.' 'Why do we need a Corgi?' 'Shouyou wants one.' Sakusa narrowed his eyes. 'OK. And the crates of vintage wine?' 'To help us grovel at Meian's feet once we've won.' Before Sakusa could quiz that any further, Bokuto’s voice came thundering through the doorframe. ‘I’M HERE!’ he shouted, a little out of breath. ‘I’M GONNA GET YOU OUT, TSUM-TSUM!’ Sakusa pocketed the list, but didn’t bother to straighten from his lean against the door. He just shook his head knowingly while Atsumu shouted back, ‘Thanks for being discreet, Bo! Much appreciated!’ ‘NO PROBLEM, MAN! HERE, LEMME SEE.’ There was a beep, like Bokuto had just scanned his lanyard against the lock, but it was closely followed by a No Access Buzz. Maybe Sakusa was right about Inunaki after all. ‘HUH? WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS THING?’ Four more beeps sounded in close succession - then four denying buzzes. ‘I THINK IT’S BROKE.’ ‘Yeah, maybe you should go and ask Inu—’ Atsumu was cut off by a huge thump against the door that rattled it in its frame. Sakusa jumped and turned around to scowl at the noise. ‘What the fuck is he doing?’ There was another thump. Atsumu winced. ‘Uh, Bokkun?’ Thump. ‘What are ya doin’, bud?’ Thump. If Meian decided to pay the IT office a visit, they were going to be absolutely fucked. ‘DON’T WORRY! I’VE GOT THIS!’ Thump. ‘KUROO TAUGHT ME ABOUT THIS THING CALLED QUANTUMN TUNNELLING!’ Thump. ‘IF I PUNCH ENOUGH TIMES,’—thump!—‘THERE’S A CHANCE MY HAND WILL EVENTUALLY GO THROUGH THE DOOR CELLS AND I’LL BE ABLE TO OPEN IT!’ Thump. ‘Somewhere,’ Sakusa told Atsumu, ‘that man is depriving a village of its idiot.’ Thump. ‘Don’t tell him that,’ Atsumu replied solemnly. ‘He’s trying his best.’ There was one more thump, and then the door clicked – probably because Inunaki was tired of watching Bokuto mutilate his own fist. Bokuto shouted, ‘HEY! IT WORKED!’ When the door swung outwards, Atsumu was met by blinding sunlight and Bokuto’s open arms. He got pulled into a bone-crushing hug. ‘You’re safe now, Miyaa-Tsum,’ Bokuto told him. He looked up and found Sakusa standing by awkwardly. ‘Oh hey, Omi! You’re here too.’ He pulled Atsumu around to his left arm and extended his right. ‘You want in?’ ‘I would rather die,’ Sakusa said, and then stalked right past Bokuto towards the IT office. Atsumu watched him disappear inside and slam the door behind him so loudly the entire hallway shook. Bokuto shrugged. ‘Maybe next time.’ ‘Yeah, Bo.’ Atsumu patted him on the back. ‘Maybe next time.’         To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Sakusa’s pick from the entirety of the coffee shop’s illustrious menu was a single black coffee and a pistachio cookie. Atsumu couldn’t even find the strength to tease him about it; it was the most ordinary thing to happen all morning. ‘Spit it out, Miya,’ Sakusa said as he squirted a hefty dollop of sanitizer into his palms. It smelled so strongly of pure alcohol that Atsumu had to blink the burn of it from his eyes. ‘What’s the plan?’ Atsumu held out his own palm. Sakusa frowned at it, but gave him some nonetheless. ‘In due time, Omi. First, I need to make a very important call.’ Suna answered the third time Atsumu called him, which was only slightly mortifying when Sakusa was right there opposite him, watching him get ignored. ‘Sunarin! Thanks for finally pickin’ up ya fuckin’ useless piece of shit.’ ‘I do aim to please, babe.’ Atsumu made a face at the phone. ‘Ew,’ he said. ‘Wrong twin, dumbass.’ ‘Nope. Definitely the right twin. If you were Osamu I’d be calling you sugar ti—’ ‘Aaaah! No! Stop! I don’t wanna hear it! I called to ask you for a favour, not turn me off my muffin.’ ‘Hmm? Well, whatever it is, it’s gonna cost you,’ Suna replied. ‘My services don’t come cheap.’ ‘Yeah, yeah. Just put it on my tab. Where are ya right now?’ ‘The restaurant. Why?’ ‘I need you to go out and get some things for me.’ Atsumu relayed the list: ten rolls of toilet paper, hair bleach, toner, marker pens, and a heavy-duty toilet plunger. Sakusa gave him a look as he picked apart his vomit-cookie, one that could only read as: what the fuck does that mean? Atsumu returned it with a wink that said: trust me, Omi. ‘Is this what I think it is?’ Suna asked. ‘Absolutely, yes,’ Atsumu replied. ‘Tell ‘Samu to book cover for tomorrow and make sure you pick the toilet closest to the door, yeah?’ ‘I’ll text you when it’s done.’ The line went dead. Atsumu put his phone down on the table and took a smug sip of his caramel macchiato. ‘A toilet plunger?’ Sakusa asked. He said it like the words were foreign and he couldn’t quite understand them. ‘Yer not the only one with special talents, Omi,’ Atsumu grinned. ‘I’ll have you know that aside from bein’ a thief, I’m also a qualified electrician, dog groomer, and plumber.’ Sakusa’s face cycled through ten different emotions in the space of three seconds. Eventually, it settled on horrified. ‘You’re not going to—’ ‘Break another one of the Adlers’ toilets? No, I’m not.’ Sakusa sighed in relief. ‘Suna is.’ ‘Wha—’ ‘The Adlers are gonna need a plumber to fix it, right? Well, there’s one right here.’ Atsumu jabbed his thumb into his chest. ‘And yer gonna be my apprentice-cum-forensic scientist sweepin’ the entire room for prints while I work.’ ‘That’s… actually not half bad,’ said Sakusa. Dare Atsumu say he actually looked sort of impressed? Damn right he should be impressed. Atsumu was a genius. ‘I thrive on positive affirmation.’ Atsumu cupped a hand around his ear. ‘Keep ‘em comin’.’ Sakusa ignored him and sipped at his drink; he didn’t even blink at the bitterness of it. ‘That explains the toilet paper and the plunger,’ he said. ‘But what about the hair dye?’ ‘Don’t worry,’ Atsumu chuckled when he clocked Sakusa’s warning scowl. ‘I won’t be touchin’ a single hair on yer perfect little head, Omi. That shit’s for ‘Samu.’ ‘For your brother?’ Sakusa asked. ‘Why?’ Atsumu broke his muffin apart and picked out the chocolate chips to eat first. He popped one into his mouth. ‘Who d’ya think’s gonna be me for Meian-san while I’m off playin’ plumber?’         ‘If you fuck this up, the next meal I cook will be yer last.’ Atsumu slapped another dollop of bleach onto Osamu’s head and brushed it through. ‘I ain’t you,’ he spat. ‘I’ll never forget the shitty dye job you did for me in high school for as long as I fuckin’ live.’ Osamu sighed happily at the memory of Atsumu’s piss-coloured nightmare. He still had the video of Atsumu crying at his own reflection in the mirror hidden away somewhere as a deterrent. ‘Neither will I,’ he said wistfully. They were in Osamu’s apartment, because after a day spent working, Osamu refused to make the journey over to Atsumu’s place. Plus, he had the upper hand when it came to the political sibling minefield of who was indebted to who. ‘I’m already doin’ ya this huge favour,’ he’d said over the phone. ‘Least you can do is come over and bring some food with ya.’ So, Atsumu had brought over all of Osamu’s favourites and once Suna returned from gathering the supplies, they spent the next two hours dying Osamu’s hair to mirror his own. ‘As horrendous as this is going to be,’ Suna said to Osamu from beside his candlelit shrine in memory of Osamu’s dark hair, ‘it’s kinda sexy of you to be going undercover.’ Osamu grimaced. ‘It’s really not, Rin. Actin’ like ‘Tsumu is super hard. Bein’ a brat just doesn’t come naturally to me like it does to him.’ Atsumu slapped his head with his gloved hand. ‘Yer actin’ like one right now, fuckin' scrub.’ Osamu elbowed him in the stomach. ‘That’s because I’m already gettin’ into character.’ Doubled over, Atsumu wheezed, ‘Geez, it’s no wonder you and Omi get on. Yer both fuckin’ evil to me. Actually, Omi’s nicer. At least he doesn’t gut me with his fuckin’ knife elbows.’ That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Suna suddenly started to smile at Osamu in a very unsettling way. It reminded Atsumu of that moment in Onigiri Miya yesterday, when Osamu had smiled his secret-keeping smile. ‘What?’ Atsumu asked. He pulled Osamu’s hair back until he was looking him in the eye. ‘What did I say?’ ‘Oh nothin’,’ said Osamu. ‘S’just that you’ve been talkin’ an awful lot about Sakusa recently. Like, more than just the usual whinin’ that he doesn’t pay attention to you like everyone else does.’ ‘Pfft, what? No I haven’t.’ He hadn’t? Had he? He'd been talking about Sakusa a normal amount. Just as much as he talked about Hinata, or Bokuto. Right? ‘Yer tellin’ me you haven’t been gushin’ about the fact that Omi-Omi basically hacked the Adlers in less than twenty-four hours, ‘Samu, how cool is that? Omi said he was impressed by my plan, ‘Samu. Omi laughed at my joke, ‘Samu. Omi, Omi, Omi!’ Atsumu narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t like the tone yer usin’, ‘Samu.’ ‘Not my fault that’s what you sound like.’ ‘You do sound like that,’ Suna added. Atsumu threw the empty bleach box at his head, but Suna ducked just in time. ‘Whatever,’ Atsumu grumbled. ‘Yer makin’ it sound like I like him or somethin’, but I don’t. We’re incompatible. Total opposites. Plus, Omi probably hates me.’ Atsumu thought back to Sakusa’s reaction when Inunaki had locked them in the supply room. To be locked in a room with you of all people. Yeah, Sakusa definitely hated him. He was only working with Atsumu to get his revenge on Ushijima. Once they’d won, he’d go right back to pretending Atsumu didn’t exist. And, Atsumu supposed, he was no better; he’d told Sakusa he’d rather work with a feral goose. But then Osamu had to go and say, ‘Then why’d ya look at him like he’s the most interestin’ thing in the whole universe?’ Atsumu shook it off by pushing Osamu off his chair at the time, but he thought about that later when he almost drowned Osamu with the shower head. He thought about it when he bid his brother goodnight, and when he took the taxi home. He thought about it when he showered, and when he sat at his desk to solidify his plans. He thought about it when he climbed into bed at nearly two in the morning, and in the moments before he fell asleep. It was just the bleach fumes messin’ with ‘Samu’s brain, Atsumu told himself. He didn’t look at Sakusa like that. He didn’t look at anyone like that.