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Once the Jiang delegation had neared the Cloud Recesses, Wei Ying had slipped away to Caiyi Town. He wanted to get a taste of Emperor’s Smile and it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of a pick me up before transitioning into the allegedly ascetic lifestyle of the Lans.  The errand didn’t take too long but, since the Jiang delegation had already been set to arrive late in the day, it was already dark by the time he made it to the Cloud Recesses. He didn’t mind, though. Until he was turned away at the gates. “Curfew is at 9,” one of the guards said. “No entry until 5.” “5 in the morning? !” Wei Ying was unwilling to believe anyone could be functional so early.  The guard simply nodded, completely stone-faced.  Wei Ying groaned. “Couldn’t you make a little exception? I’m with the Jiang delegation. I didn’t know there was a curfew. Just tonight?” The guard didn’t even bother to look at him. “No entry after curfew.” Wei Ying huffed. So rigid! Forget his previous speculations that the rumors about the Cloud Recesses’ discipline was overexaggerated, they were all that he heard and more. Well, he supposed he might just have to sleep out in the forest tonight. Or… “Ah, I suppose I must wait, then,” he said, turning around and strolling away.  “I’ll just find a nice patch of leaves, maybe some springy moss…” He kept on until he deemed himself far enough away, then he turned back, bolting around to a wall out of the guards’ sight. He stared up the wall consideringly, then glanced at a tree that was a few feet away. All right! He slung the jars of alcohol over his shoulder, then climbed up the tree. He wiggled across a branch that stuck out towards the wall, eyed the distance, then jumped. He caught onto the wall and hung there for a moment, heart pounding. Rather than fear though, his blood sang with excitement. He pulled himself up, hitching a leg over to get him full atop the wall, then sat there a moment, looking around the Cloud Recesses from his vantage point. Wow , he thought to himself. The Lan might be strict and stuffy but the Cloud Recesses was undeniably beautiful. The buildings were graceful, wood shining faintly in the moonlight. Combine that with the dark green of the plants and the mist hanging low, the scene looked ethereal. He couldn’t help but stare. “No entry after curfew,” a deep voice stated.  Wei Ying started, head whipping around to the right to see a young man in white. The young man had ebony black hair, in contrast to the stark white of his clothes. When he looked closely, though, he saw that the cloth had a faint pattern of light blue. He wore a cloud-patterned forehead ribbon and his eyes shone a clear gold. His first thought, oddly enough, was that the people of Gusu were even more beautiful than the scenery.  His second thought was oh, shit! The other man had his sword drawn and pointed at Wei Ying. He immediately put his hands up placatingly. “I’m not an intruder, I swear!” The man narrowed his eyes.  “Really! I’m with the Jiang delegation. I just had an errand to run and, by the time I got back, it was already past 9.” Wei Ying smiled, channeling all his charm. It didn’t seem to work, though. The man continued to stare with a blank expression, until his eyes dropped to the jars still slung over Wei Ying’s shoulder. At that, his expression broke into a small frown. “Drinking alcohol is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” he said with an icy voice. “Ah, but I’m not in Cloud Recesses yet, am I?” Wei Ying gave him a cheeky grin. “Your alcohol will be confiscated. Hand it over.” The young man stepped towards Wei Ying, hand reaching out to grab the jars. Wei Ying jumped up and backed away. “No way, I paid good money for this!” He clutched the jars to his chest.  The small frown on the other man’s face deepened. “Hand it over and your punishment will be lenient.” “Punishment? Well, if I’m going to be punished anyway, might as well drink my Emperor’s Smile.” At that, he opened one of the jars and tipped his head back, pouring the liquid into his mouth. The taste was so delightful, so refreshing, that he barely even heard the other man’s choked “You-!” But he did hear the whistle of a sword cutting through the air. He glided back, glancing up at the other man with a pout. His eyes widened when they landed on the other man.  A pair of ice blue horns jutted out from just above his forehead ribbon. His gold eyes were somehow even more intense, now with slitted pupils. When he exhaled, a breath of frosty air was released, crystallizing into tiny fractals of ice.  An ice dragon. He barely had a moment to stare in awe before he had to dodge. The man had leapt into the air and hurtled now toward Wei Ying with his sword aiming for the jars.  “I’ve never seen a dragon before!” He couldn’t help but exclaim even as he danced around to avoid the sword point. “You must be a member of the main Clan, then. Lan Xichen?” The other man didn’t react. “No? Maybe Lan Wangji?” The other man’s shoulder pulled up for a brief second.  “So, you are Lan Wangji! I’m Wei Ying, courtesy Wuxian. You know, I heard so many rumors about you and your brother. Twin Jades with jade-like beauty and all that. You really live up to expectations.” He winked with a sly smile and watched in delight as Lan Wangji’s ears reddened, jaw clenching. “Shameless!” Wei Ying laughed, gleeful at the reaction he was able to pull out of the stone-faced man. In that brief moment of distraction, Lan Wangji struck, sword piercing one of the jars, shattering it. “Hey!”  Lan Wangji lunged forward and Wei Ying tried to back up but found himself with his back pressed against a watch tower. He tried to hold the remaining jar out of reach, but Lan Wangji evidently had longer arms and grabbed it with no trouble, taking it away. Wei Ying felt a pang of disappointment but it was quickly overshadowed when he saw something that was uncovered when Lan Wangji raised his arm, making his sleeve drop.  A red ribbon. Worn and frayed. And familiar. He froze, staring at it.  Without even thinking about it, he reached out to try to touch the ribbon, but Lan Wangji jerked his arm away, his other hand coming up to cover the ribbon. “Don’t touch it!” Lan Wangji glared at him. Wei Ying didn’t even blink, staring at the hand that covered the ribbon. “But that’s...mine...I gave it to a child in...white.” The realization struck him and it seemed to strike Lan Wangji at the same time. He moved his hand, uncovering the ribbon.  Wei Ying was certain now that the ribbon was close enough to feel the faintest traces of his mother’s energy, still clinging to the fabric. A protection charm cast over a decade ago and still present.  “You…” He looked at Lan Wangji, seeing the same shocked expression that was undoubtedly on his face, as well.  “Did you...did you come back?” He couldn’t help the vulnerable tremble in his voice. Lan Wangji nodded, a jerky motion. “I went back to the alley but you were gone.” “Uncle Jiang-uh-Jiang Fengmian. He found me and took me with him to Lotus Pier.” Lan Wangji frowned slightly. “I have not heard of a fox among the Jiang.” Wei Ying tensed, a reflex reaction to years of hiding his shift. “How do you-” He realized immediately. “Ah. You saw my ears that time.” Lan Wangji nodded. “I listened for any rumor of a fox child but I never heard any. I assumed that the Wens had...gotten you.” Wei Ying huffed a laugh. “Good to know my efforts worked.” At Lan Wangji’s confused look, he elaborated. “When I got to Lotus Pier, Madame Yu insisted that I hide my fox shift to avoid attracting the Wens' attention. Since then, I haven’t shifted at all.” Lan Wangji hummed with a faint frown. When he met Wei Ying’s eyes, Wei Ying suddenly noticed how close they were. Lan Wangji seemed to notice as well, jerking back.  “You may join your delegation,” he said, smoothing his features back into a blank expression. “This will be your only warning. Please familiarize yourself with the rules.” Wei Ying beamed. “I will! Ah, but…” Lan Wangji looked at him questioningly. Wei Wuxian scratched his cheek self-consciously. “I don’t know where to go…” Lan Wangji blinked. “Follow me.” He turned and jumped down from the wall, landing gracefully. Wei Ying smiled and followed.   ----------------------------------------------------------------------   As Lan Zhan walked through the Cloud Recesses, heading to the guest quarters, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Wei Wuxian. The young man walked with a sense of restlessness, his entire body moving. His eyes constantly flitted around, fingers tapping against the hilt of his sword, head turning this way and that.  Lan Zhan thought of the hungry young child he’d met a decade ago and marveled at the vibrant young man he’d become. That child had been skinny and still, curled up tightly to take up as little space as possible. This young man, however, was lean but with a healthy glow to his cheeks and an aura that made his presence enormous. One thing that hadn’t changed, though, was the life within his eyes. Even when he’d been a hungry child, Wei Wuxian’s eyes shone with an unquenchable fire.  Wei Wuxian glanced over at him and met his eyes, smiling brightly when he did.  Ah, Lan Wangji thought. So that hasn’t changed, either.  That smile, full of joy and kindness, had lingered in his memory, fed the hope that one day he’d meet the boy again. Now, unexpectedly, here he was.  Lan Wangji didn’t know how to tell him that he’d saved his life.  When he’d been given the ribbon, he could sense the power within it, but he was much too young to be able to identify what it was.  It became clear, though, on a snowy day just a few months later.  He’d been walking through the back mountains after a visit day. The day after his scheduled monthly visit to his mother always left him melancholy. That day, he’d been distracted, upset because his mother was ill and they hadn’t been allowed to visit her.  He hadn’t realized he’d left the boundary of the Cloud Recesses. Until he heard the snarl of a corrupted animal. Before he’d even had the chance to look around, the creature, what used to be a mongoose, leapt at him.  Then, the ribbon he’d tied around his wrist warmed and a wave of energy pulsed out, repelling the creature. While the creature was off-balance and dazed, Lan Wangji had run back within the borders.  It was later, when he’d been clear-headed enough to think about what happened, that he’d figured out the ribbon had some kind of protective charm woven in it.  It had saved him again after that. On his first night hunt, when it let out a pulse of energy to repel a fierce corpse that he didn’t dodge in time. On another hunt, when he had more experience but made the mistake of looking away from the water ghoul for a moment.  He eventually learned that it couldn’t exorcise anything but it could expel small bursts of energy to repel low level creatures. And each time it did, he remembered that bright smile, the cheerful “ now, we’re even !” When he reached the guest dorms, he felt a tug of reluctance. He’d just found the boy he’d been looking for, he didn’t want to part again so quickly. Something in his heart ached at the thought of it.  But he shook it off.  “The Jiang delegation is in that building,” he said, with a nod toward the quarters.  “Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said with a smile in his direction. He took a couple of steps to the building, then paused and looked back.  “Um...talk to you tomorrow?” Wei Wuxian looked apprehensive, eyebrows pulling in slightly. Lan Wangji felt the unease he’d had about parting settle when he realized that Wei Wuxian seemed just as reluctant.  “Mn. Tomorrow.”  Wei Wuxian grinned at him, then continued on his way to the building.  Lan Wangji couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.    ——————————————————————-   Wei Ying wanted to die.  It was 5 in the morning, so early that the sun hadn’t even fully risen and not only had he been woken up but he was expected to start his day.  “Nooooooo,” he groaned into the pillow.  “Wei Wuxian!” He felt a pillow smack into his back as Jiang Cheng berated him. “Get up!” “Nooooo, too early,” he whined, voice muffled by the pillow.  “I will dump cold water on you, don’t test me,” Jiang Cheng hissed.  “What!” Wei Wuxian jerked his head up. “That would get the bed wet, too! It would take forever to dry, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” “Better get up before you find out.”  “Ughhhh,” he groaned. “My shidi is evil, cruel, heartless.” He looked at Jiang Cheng with his best pout.  Jiang Cheng was utterly unimpressed. “Nice try,” he said drily.  “Fine, fine!” Wei Wuxian said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “But I hope you know this is physically paining me.” “Yeah, whatever.” Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, then chucked a bundle of cloth at Wei Wuxian. “Get dressed, we’re going to be late for breakfast.” Wei Wuxian sighed but got up to change.  “By the way,” Jiang Cheng said with a steely look in his direction. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking in late.” “Ah, that was-“ Jiang Cheng held up a hand. “I don’t want to know. Just...try not to get us kicked out on the first day.” Wei Ying raised three fingers, looking at Jiang Cheng with his best attempt at a solemn face. “I promise I won’t.” He must not have been very convincing because Jiang Cheng simply gave him a skeptical look before turning to the door.  Wei Ying grinned and followed behind.  As they walked to the dining hall, Wei Ying thought that the Cloud Recesses were just as beautiful in the day as it was at night.  The morning sun shone gently, scattered by the ever present mist. The greenery that was visible at night was vibrant in the day.  It truly was a place of tranquility.  As he thought about that, he was reminded of the still-faced Lan Wangji, tranquil as his home. At least, until Wei Ying poked the wrong nerve.  I wonder if I’ll see him at breakfast, he mused to himself. His heart beat a bit faster, palms tingling at the thought. He couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement.  Maybe both.  When they entered the dining hall, Wei Ying immediately started scanning the room.  It didn’t take long for him to find Lan Wangji. He sat at the front of the room beside someone who looked remarkably like him, if more expressive. Undoubtedly his brother. Also beside him was an older man, clearly related to the Twin Jades.  Their father? No, Qingheng-Jun is in seclusion. Ah, he must be their uncle. What was his name…? As he pondered what the name of the older Lan was-he knew he’d heard it-Lan Wangji met his eyes.  Wei Ying froze in place, heartbeat speeding up further. He lifted a hand and waved hesitantly but Lan Wangji simply looked away.  He pouted, a stab of disappointment-was that a bit of hurt?-piercing him.  He looked away and sat beside Jiang Cheng, focusing his attention on the food.  He immediately regretted it.  What the hell is this?! Breakfast consisted of a bowl of plain rice and a thin broth with a few shreds of some type of leaf floating within it.  He looked around, wondering if there was a plate missing from his table but everyone else had the same. Nobody else seemed bothered, though.  He sighed internally, resigning himself to the bland meal.  When breakfast was over, they were directed to the meditation rooms. Lan Wangji was at the lead, giving Wei Ying no chance to speak with him.  One hour of meditation later (not that Wei Ying really meditated, distracted by his anxious need to speak to Lan Wangji) they were off to lessons with Lan Wangji’s uncle, who Wei Ying finally remembered was named Lan Qiren.  Once again, Lan Wangji was seated at the front, too far for Wei Ying to speak with him or even pass him a note.  He immediately tuned out the lesson, pondering instead how he might get Lan Wangji’s attention.  Oh, I know!  He grabbed a paper, writing a brief note on it, then folding it up into a little bird. He drew a sigil on it, activating it with a small push of energy. The paper bird fluttered up, flying to land on Lan Wangji’s desk.  Lan Wangji’s head turned slightly when the bird landed. He picked it up and examined it, glancing back at Wei Ying, who smiled at him. Instead of opening it, though, he slid it beneath his notes.  Wei Ying pouted. Why wasn’t Lan Wangji talking to him? “Wei Wuxian!”  The shout startled him, making him sit upright. Lan Qiren glared at him from the front of the room.  “Since you seem to be so knowledgeable that you don’t need my instruction, why don’t you answer the question?” Wei Ying blinked, staring at Lan Qiren, who simply looked expectantly at him.  Wei Ying spoke hesitantly. “What was the question?” Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed. He spoke in a hiss. “What enables shifts?” Wei Wuxian responded immediately. “An affinity that one is born with combined with cultivation of a more stable and powerful shift.” Somehow, Lan Qiren didn’t seem pleased that he’d gotten the answer right. “And what kind of cultivation is required?” “Cultivation of spiritual energy, with stronger cores enabling stronger shifts. Though,” he added, tapping his chin in thought, “one could also use demonic energy to strengthen a shift.” Lan Qiren scoffed. “That is only true of fox shifts, due to their affinity for resentful energy.” “Not necessarily,” Wei Ying insisted. “It might be easier for a fox shift but any shifter can do it with enough care and training.” “You-! Do you seek to encourage the corruption of shifters?” “Why does it necessarily have to lead to corruption? Anyone with an affinity for one source of energy can learn to use others. It might even-“ He stopped to duck a book that was chucked at his head.  “Get out!” Lan Qiren shouted, face red, a vein in his temple throbbing. “You will copy the precepts thrice for your blasphemous words!” “Three times?!” Wei Ying protested. “That will take forever!” “Five times! Now, go!” Wei Ying opened his mouth, but thought better of it. He simply got up, bowed, gave Jiang Cheng (who was glaring at him) an apologetic look, and left. As he did, he heard Lan Qiren speak. “Wangji, go with him and supervise his punishment.” His heart skipped a beat when he heard the soft rustle of clothes as Lan Wangji rose and the near-silent sound of his footsteps. He slowed down, allowing the other to catch up. They walked silently, Wei Ying slightly behind Lan Wangji, since he didn’t know the way to the library. He felt the question he wanted to ask burn on his tongue, but he held back, the eyes of others holding him back. When they got to the library, Lan Wangji led them to a secluded corner, where he laid out papers and a copy of the precepts on a table. Wei Ying watched him, seated at the table, until he sat down as well. Then, the question burst out. “Why won’t you talk to me?” He blurted out. Lan Wangji looked at him with a slight widening of his eyes but, before, he could speak, Wei Ying continued. “Did I do something that upset you? Uh, other than the thing with the alcohol last night? Do you not want anyone to know we know each other? Did I...did meeting me disappoint you?” He finally stopped, chest tight and breathing faster than normal. He looked at Lan Wangji, heart in his throat as he waited for an answer, hoping that he hadn’t already run Lan Wangji away.  Lan Wangji’s face was still, eyes blinking slowly. As the seconds went on, We Ying felt his stomach grow heavier. “You don’t need to worry about sparing my feelings,” he said quietly, looking away. “Wei Wuxian, I wasn’t...intentionally not speaking to you,” Lan Wangji finally said. Wei Ying looked up, a spark of hope lighting. Lan Wangj sighed. “Have you read the rules?” Wei Ying looked away, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “Ah, no, not all of them. We got the booklet before we came and I started looking through it, I swear. I just...never finished.” Lan Wangji shot him a look of disapproval.  “What? They’re not exactly riveting to read,” Wei Ying defended himself. Lan Wangji sighed again. “One of the rules is that there is no talking permitted during mealtimes.” Oh. “I...didn’t know that,” he said meekly. Then, he remembered his other grievance. “But! What about the note? You didn’t even bother to read it!” “I was paying attention to the lesson. I intended to read it afterwards.” “Oh,” Wei Ying said, the wind taken out of his sails. He really got worked up over nothing. Actually, now that he really thought about it, it was a bit odd that he was even that upset over being ignored by someone didn’t really know. Maybe because we met before, so it feels like I know him better? “Um,” he said sheepishly, “sorry for attacking you like that.” Lan Wangji shook his head. “I apologize for giving the wrong impression.” “Ah, that wasn’t really your fault. I guess I let my worries get the best of me.” Lan Wangji frowned slightly and opened his mouth, but Wei Ying interrupted, wanting to end the conversation before he let any more vulnerabilities slip. “I should probably start copying! I’ve got a long way to go, after all,” he said with a smile. Lan Wangji hesitated for a moment, then hummed in agreement. As Wei Ying began copying, he saw Lan Wangji turn his attention to a book and they sat in companionable silence for several minutes.  It didn’t take long for Wei Ying to get bored, though. “Hey, Lan Wangji.” “Hm?” Lan Wangji didn’t look up. “Lan Wangji!” Wei Ying repeated, wanting those gold eyes on him, for reasons he didn’t fully understand.  “Yes?” Lan Wangji still didn’t look up. Wei Ying decided to try a new method. “Lan Zhan!” Lan Zhan’s head jerked up, startled eyes meeting Wei Ying’s. Then, he narrowed them. “Shameless.” Wei Ying grinned, delighted anew at ruffling Lan Zhan’s feathers….or would it be scales? Whatever. “Come on, Lan Zhan, we’re already close, aren’t we? You can call me by my birth name, too.” Lan Zhan’s ears reddened. “Close?” “Of course! Basically childhood friends. You already know my most closely guarded secret, after all.” Actually, thinking about it that way, they really did have a...unique relationship. They didn’t really know each other but, at the same time, Lan Zhan already knew about his shift, had seen him at his lowest. Not to mention the odd desire Wei Ying had to have Lan Zhan’s attention on him. “Then, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said and Wei Ying immediately froze, brain screeching to a halt.  He really needed to think before he spoke because, really , how was he supposed to be functional with Lan Zhan saying his name in that smooth voice?  He almost didn’t hear Lan Zhan continue, brain still reeling.  “...if I may ask, you mentioned that you have not shifted since you were taken in.” “What?” Wei Ying was taken off guard by the topic. “Yeah, so that the Wens didn’t find out about me.” “Why did this require that you never shift?” “What do you mean?” “You could shift in private. It is detrimental to never shift between forms.” Wei Ying recoiled internally. He didn’t like to think about his shift, especially not that he was forbidden to shift. Externally, he let out a shaky laugh. “Why does that matter? It’s not a big deal.” Lan Zhan frowned. “It is not good for a shifter to abandon either form. One can lose the ability to shift entirely.” “I said it’s not a big deal!” Wei Ying stiffened when he heard his own tone, flinching back at the faint look of surprise on Lan Zhan’s face. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just...Madame Yu doesn’t allow it. And really, you never know who’s watching so, better safe than sorry.” Lan Zhan pressed his lips together, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “Do you practice cultivating resentful energy?” “Of course not, that would give me away as a fox, too.” “Then, am I to understand that you do not shift to your other form and you do not practice the cultivation that your shift has a unique affinity for?” Wei Ying crossed his arms. “I would have thought you didn’t like demonic cultivation, with what your uncle said.” “Demonic cultivation is dangerous for most but it is natural for fox shifts. Your potential-” “Lan Zhan, it’s fine! I’m fine. I don’t need to shift and I don’t need to practice any other type of cultivation. Just drop it.”  Lan Zhan’s expression stiffened. “As you wish,” he said, icily, returning his eyes to the book.  A knot of guilt twisted inside Wei Ying, but he ignored it.  They passed the rest of the afternoon in silence.

"Let's review what we have," Hotch said, his feet crossed where he sat. The clouds passed them by as they soared through the sky.  "We have potential women missing," Emily offered, sitting across from him in the jet. "But only one confirmed missing woman." "Kelly Beckett," Reid supplied.  "She used to meet her sister every week at Café Dulché, but last Tuesday she was a no-show." Derek Morgan remained unconvinced.  "Over the last decade, 43% of victims targeted by serial killers have been sex workers," Reid offered. He sat with his legs tucked underneath him, crosslegged, next to JJ. "It's possible there are 200 active serials at any given time. There's a high probability that a large percentage would target sex workers."  "With no bodies it's nearly impossible to determine the type of killer we are dealing with here," Rossi huffed. "We can't review crime scenes, and we can't examine bodies post mortem."   "There's no way to determine if the unsub has a signature," Reid added.  "We don't have enough for a profile," Hotch said, eyes never leaving the tablet in front of him.  "How can we make a profile out of this, man?" Derek asked, annoyed. He turned away, watching out the jet window.  Hotch rubbed his head. "Reid, you're with me. We'll head to the precient, introduce ourselves to Sheriff Locke. See if you can get started on a geographical profile."  Reid nodded.  "Prentiss, Rossi, head to the local shelter. Talk to Rosie Donovan and see what information you can gather about the women she thinks are missing."  Rossi fiddled with the watch on his wrist in answer.    "Morgan, JJ, talk to the owner of Café Dulché, see if the owners have anything to offer. Then swing by and talk to Sarah Beckett in person. Get a statement from her."  "Maybe we can dig up a case," Morgan muttered under his breath.  ****** They precinct was small and dismal. A few cops eyed them with barely concealed contempt as they entered.  "Agents," a voice called, and both Hotchner and Reid turned their head to the portly man making his way to them.  He was stout, and balding, with curious splotches of red dotting his face. He offered a hand to Hotch to shake.  "Hello. I'm SSA Hotchner, and this is Dr. Reid." Hotch gestured to Spencer, who in lieu of a shake, raised his hand awkwardly to wave. "I'm Sheriff Locke," the man replied, tearing his curious gaze from Spencer. "I thought your team would be...larger."  "We wanted to hit the ground running," Hotch assured. "My agents are out questioning potential witnesses now." "I see." Locke ran a hand over his balding head. "Well, come on ahead back to my office."  He started heading back towards a door near the rear of the building. They passed tables scattered about, cluttered with knick-knack and baubles and a nameplate identifying it's accompanying officer. Many of those men glared at them as they passed.  "Not exactly a warm welcome," Reid muttered, angling to avoid the outstretched shoulder of a cop as he passed by. The man smiled sardonically at him, and Reid caught the name Ritters on his gold nameplate. "I've warned everyone to be on their best behaviour," Locke said, motioning them inside his office door. The room was small, the tawny carpet here just as stained as the rest of the precinct.  "They're not happy I invited the FBI here to assist," he explained.  "We're simply a tool to be used. Any arrests that need to be made will he handled by your office." Hotch remained standing while Sheriff Locke plopped loudly into his seat.  "Truth be told," the man said, glumly, "I can barely keep these guys under control."  "They're your men," Hotch said, incredulously. "You're the Sheriff."  "Only for a couple months now. And only just barely." Locke motioned to a black and white picture on the wall. A young child sat on the shoulders of a man in uniform. "I got this position because my Daddy had it before me. Until he passed away, he was Sheriff. And so far, if you ask those men out there, I ain't living up to expectations."  "I'm sorry for your loss," Hotch said. "But I'm going to need cooperation from your men on this."  "And like I said, I've warned them to behave." Locke sighed. "Officer Hodges and Ritters have always been some of the best men the precinct has. I'm going to assign them this case to work the closest with you."  Reid couldn't stop his eyebrow from shooting up. Officer Ritters had just tried to shoulder bump him on the way to this room. He suddenly had very low expectations of the best that Paxville had to offer.  "We'll need a room to set up in," Hotch responded. "And an evidence board."  "Done," Locke agreed. "Though, we are small here. It will have to be a small room." "We'll make due," Hotch said, easily.  Locke nodded, then suddenly screeched, "Ritters!"  Reid startled at the noise. A moment later the office door opened, revealing that same sardonic smile that had tried to trip him on his way in.  "Yes, Sheriff?" Ritters asked. Hotch frowned slightly at the patronizing note in the officer's voice.  "This is Agent Hotchner," Locke pointed a stubby finger at the elder agent, "And Dr. Reid. You and your partner will be working closely with the BAU agents for now."  "My pleasure," Ritters said, offering a hand to both men. His eyes darkened ever so slightly at Reid's small wave. The smile stuck on his face never reached his eyes.  "We'd like to get started, if you don't mind," Hotch implored, turning back to the Sheriff.  "Of course!" He responded. "Ritters, please show the men our spare conference room."  "Sure thing, Sheriff," Ritters said. His blue eyes sparked with indignation. Reid found himself shrinking away as he followed Hotch out the door, the officer following behind.  "Up there, on the left," Ritters spoke, breezing past them. He led them to a room even smaller than Sheriff Locke's office.  "This is it," he said, flicking on a light. It seemed to sputter for a moment before finally igniting. Pale light flicked across the room.  "Thank you." Hotch maintained his impassive facade, but Reid found himself frowning at the dust that covered every surface. Including the evidence board and the map already pinned to it.  "Yep. I know you FBI folks gotta have the best," Ritters practically sneered. His tone caused both Hotch and Reid to turn in his direction.  "We are here to help," Hotch said coolly.  "Of course, of course." The man raised his hands in a gesture of mock peace. "Good luck, agent. You too, doctor."  And then he turned and strolled from the room, locking his fingers through his gun belt.  Frowning, Hotch turned to Reid. "Ignore it," he commanded. "Start working on the map."  "Yes sir," Reid replied, slicking his hair back. "I think I'd rather be interviewing Sarah Beckett."  "You and me both." ***** "It seems like no one cares about these woman," the woman said, nervously twiddling her thumbs. Her dark hair was pinned up and out of her face, showing off her deep olive skin and large expressive eyes. She wore plain clothes, with an apron tied around her waist, but they felt rich in comparison to the rest of the room.  "It's why I started the Patch Your Heart Foundation," she continued. "I care about these people, even if it seems like society doesn't."  Emily eyed the room, watching as the women who found themselves homeless settled into their temporary resting spot. Many wore clothing that was mere rags at this point, and several had unkempt tangled masses if hair. All held bowls, greedily slurping it's contents into their mouths.  "You seem to be doing a good job helping them," Emily supplied kindly. And it did. Rosie Donovan seemed to be filled with compassion, and she had set up a respectable building here."  "Thank you. Me and my husband Elliot set it up together. It's the least we could do. Paxville used to be such a wonderful place before the drugs." "Isn't that just the way of it?" Rossi asked in his usual dry way.  "Tell us about the women you think are missing," Emily prodded.  "Well, the nature of homelessness is unpredictable, of course," Rosie began, leading them around the building. "We have room for about 50 here, so our occupants tend to change based on who holds onto their spot. But, we do have regulars."  She stops, squatting by an elderly woman. The woman smiles a toothless grin at the agents, her face wrinkling.  "This is Debbie," Rosie explains. "She's been here every night for months."  The toothless woman waves, then returns to her steamy soup.  "But?" Emily asks, following Rosie as she leads them back to the kitchens.  "But I noticed some of our regular women, like Sheila, haven't shown up in weeks. Or months. And I've overheard some of our, um, working women speaking about the women they've known who've vanished."  "Do you have a list of the woman you think might be missing?" Emily asks. "And names of the women you've overheard talking.  "Oh, yes," Rosie said. "But I can't guarantee that any name you see will be real. We require the woman who sleep here to sign in, but it's not like we double check to see if any of the names are real." She frowned slightly. "And I doubt that they'd speak to the FBI." "We only want to talk to them and see if they've seen anything suspicious," Rossi assured.  Rosie pulled a folded up piece of paper from her pocket. "These are the names of the woman I think might be missing, along with some descriptions of them."  Rossi took it, eyes widening a little as he read it. "There's 20 names on here," he said, meeting Rosie's eyes. "You think 20 women have gone missing from this area?"  Rosie nodded determinedly. "Yes. I do."  "Well, alright," Emily said, meeting Rossi's look for a moment. "Thank you, this has been a big help."  Smiling, Rosie opened the door to the kitchen. The smells of garlic assaulted their senses.  "Smells good," Rossi said, sniffing the air.  "Elliot is a good cook," Rosie replied, the smile evident in her voice. She led them around a corner, passing a stainless steel shelf.  "This is my husband, Elliot," she said, gesturing to the man who stood by a stovetop ocean, slowly stirring the contents of a saucer. He wore a plain black top and jeans, and had light blonde hair.  Hearing them, his head popped up, and he flashed a questioning look to his wife.  "These are FBI agents," Rosie supplied, carressing his hand softly.  "Ah," he replied, flashing light eyes to both of them. He wiped his hands on his jeans before presenting one to Rossi. "I'm Elliot. I run this place with Rosie."  "I'm Agent Rossi, and this is Agent Prentiss."  "Hello," He cast a polite smile to Emily. "What can I, uh, do for you?"  "Have you seen anything suspicious? Men hanging around here?" Emily watched as Rosie threaded an arm through his.  "No, nothing like that." Elliot carefully extracted his arms. Emily cocked an eyebrow, and shot a look to Rossi. He nodded his head slightly. Marriage trouble. "But, Elliot isn't here very much," Rosie added, playing with a strand of dark hair that had fallen loose. "Me and Eli created this place together, but I spend most of the time here, running it. Elliot takes care of our home while I'm here."  "I tell her that she spends too much time here," Elliot joked.  Shrugging, Rosie met the agent's eyes. "I have to, you know? Somehow has to care for these women."  "Of course." Rossi fingered the list of names he held. "It's very admirable what you're doing."  It was silent for a moment, penetrated only by the slight sounds of soup bubbling. Elliot frowned towards the stove.  "Well, I'll walk you out," Rosie said. She led them back through the kitchen doors, back to the room holding the unfortunate people who found themselves needing.  "The women," she continued, softly, causing both Rossi and Emily to lean in, "That I overheard talking, one of them goes by Farrah. She's white, and has blonde hair with purple streaks. I haven't seen her in weeks now though." Sadness engulfed Rosie's features. "She's on that list of missing women I gave you."  "Anyone else?" Emily asked. She didn't need Reid here to tell them the statistics of finding Farrah to question her.  "Daisy Cavos. She's a black girl. She was here a couple days ago." Rosie smiled hopefully.  "Thank you." Rossi watched as Prentiss immediately retrieved her phone. "You've helped us tremendously."  "I hope so," Rosie replied, before turning and heading back into the shelter.  "Garcia?" Emily asked, phone pressed to her ear. "I need you to run some names for me. Daisy Cavos. Black woman. And Farrah. Both possibly arrested for solistitation?"  "My vexing compadre," Garcia's chipper voice responded. "I may be amazing and and all knowing and equipped with magic fingers, but even I know the name Farrah will not be enough." Regardless, the telltale sound of Garcia's keyboard filtered through.  "Just see what you can find," Emily tried.  "There is no Daisy Cavos, but there is a Daisy Cavenda, arrested thrice for solisiting?"  "Awesome. An address? Any way to contact her?"  "No dice. But I'll send a picture to you."  "Thanks, Garcia," Emily sighed, opening up the SUV's door.  "As for Farrah, there's nothing. Nada. Zilch. There aren't even any birth records for that name in surrounding counties."  "Okay, thanks anyway." Prentiss wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. The Arizona heat had been oppressive from the moment she stepped off the plane.  Closing her door, she turned to Rossi. "Next time we're going somewhere cold." He raised a bushy brow, wordlessly turning the AC to full blast. "Reid might disagree."  "Reid can kiss my ass," she muttered, settling into the car.  ******* Sarah Beckett's apartment was small, but it was well kept. Pictures dotted her pale green walls, of Sarah with Kelly, and people who must be their parents. JJ found her eyes kept returning to a picture of Kelly and Sarah together, arms wrapped around each other's faces, smiles lighting their faces.  Sarah herself sat in a plushy seat, holding a trembling mug of steaming tear. She watched them with saddened green eyes, her blonde hair fanned out around her face. "I don't know what you want to know," she confessed.  "Anything you know about Kelly. Where she spent her time when she wasn't around you. Men she had around," Derek said. He sat on the very edge of Sarah's flowered couch, opposite her. JJ sat beside him.  "She, well. She spent a lot of time with me. Obviously." Sarah avoided eye contact. "Did you know any of the men she would see?" JJ asked gently.  "No, and I doubt she did, either. They were just men who wanted her….services." The hands holding the cup of tea tightened slightly.  "Where did she stay?" Derek asked.  "Wherever she could. Sometimes at the shelter in town. Sometimes benches in parks."  "Was she on drugs?"  Sarah's eyes flashed to Morgan's, angry. "Yes, alright, she did. But it didn't make her a bad person. She was just a little lost."  "Ma'am," he started, carefully. "We are not here to judge your sister. We are only here to help you find her."  "Rocky," Sarah said, sighing. "I know she bought them from some guy named Rocky. I don't know his last name. Kelly bought drugs from him right outside the café that day, right before she came in. I was biting mad at her that day." She laughed softly, guiltily.  "What did he look like?" JJ laid a comforting hand on her arm.  "White. Tattoos. Like full sleeve. Um, bald."  "Is there anything else you can think of?" Derek had already risen off the couch, but he waited, phone in hand for her thoughts.  "No, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't think of anything else."  "You did good," JJ assured. She could hear Derek speaking into the phone.  She rose, heading towards the door, but that picture caught her eye again. Kelly and Sarah, frozen in time, an endless loop of joy on their faces. She turned back to Sarah's huddled form.  "Why did you meet her every Tuesday at the café?" She asked.  "She's my sister," Sarah responded, her stare level. "I couldn't give up on my sister. After our parents died, Kelly and I only had each other. Sure, she's going down a hard path right now. But meeting her at the café? Getting to sit down with her and eat and talk to each other like normal sisters? It means everything to me. It reminds me that just maybe we could have a happy ending."  "I had a sister," JJ said, words slipping forth before she had a chance to filter them. "Roslyn."  "Kelly means everything to me. Sarah closed her eyes. "You don't forget your sister.  JJ found herself lost for words.   *****   "You wanna tell me how we got stuck making two stops?" Derek asked, maneuvering the car into the parking lot of Café Dulché.  "Consider it a compliment," JJ said, taking in the restaurant. Small, like just about everything else in this town, but it was homey and cozy. The exterior was a warm colored wood, framed by a sign declaring it's name in twirling cursive. "Complement, sure," he scoffed. Donning his dark sunglasses, he stepped out? of the SUV.  "God, it's hot," JJ complained, the heat hitting her like a wave. She fanned her face with her hand.  "Tell me about it. I bet Reid would love this."  A few cars dotted the parking lot, but the resturant appeared mostly empty. Yanking open the café doors, Derek was hit by mercifully chilled air. He sighed in appreciation.  "Can I help you?" A man asked, a tray of food balanced on one hand. He was a large man, and his shaggy blonde hair was held back by the net he wore on his head.  "We got a couple questions to ask you," Derek said, stepping across the mosiac tiled floor. He was already reaching into his pocket for his badge.  The man grunted in response, eyeing both his and JJ's identification.  "I'm busy," he said, gruffly. "I don't got a lot of time here."  "We'll be quick,' JJ promised.  "One sec," the man said, unceremiously dropping the food off to a table where two older women sat. They watched the scene with fascination.  "What do you want?" He asked, rubbing his hands on his pants. They left greasy stains.  "I'm agent Jareau, and this is agent Morgan."  "Darrin Chanders," he replied. "I own Café Dulché."  "Do you know Sarah Beckett?" JJ asked.  "Oh yeah. I know Sarah." Darrin paused, looking to a round table on the left wall of the resturant. "She comes here all the time. Usually sits right there." "And her sister?" Morgan questioned.  "Kelly." The man nodded to himself. "She's technically a regular, too. Comes in every tuesday with Sarah. Sarah'll buy her a muffin, or bagel or milkshake or something. Kelly looks pretty rough. I wouldn't let her in here if it weren't for Sarah."  "Rough? How?" JJ put her hand on her hip.  "All skinny. Marks on her skin. Pretty obvious she uses."  The door jingled as a man walked in, looking curiously at the two FBI agents.  "Just a minute and I'll be with you," Darrin called to the man, turning back to the agents. "I really am busy here."  "We're almost done." JJ smiled. "Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?"  "Out of the ordinary?" Darrin's lips creased. "How do you mean?"  "Strange men hanging around, either inside or outside. People acting different. New people dining here," Derek offered.  "This is a business in a small town. If a new person shows up to dine here I count myself lucky." Darrin chuckled to himself.  "Did you see anything different about Sarah or Kelly?" Darrin shrugged, his eyes darting back to the patron. "I got no idea. Nothing I can think of." "Okay. Thanks for the time." Derek turned on his heels, clearly irratated. This trip had provided them with no new information.  "You work this place on your own?" JJ asked. "That seems….hard."  Darrin laughed, but not in a happy way. "No, usually I have help. Samuel, a friend. He's my server. He called in sick today last minute."  "What's Samuel's last name?"  "Ness." Darrin frowned. "Why? He's a good guy."  "Just protocool." Derek said, his stride paused on the way to the door. "We're covering our bases." He turned, heading for the door.  "Thanks so much," JJ said. "You've been a big help."  "A server." Hurrying to Morgan, JJ thought aloud. "He could have met Kelly here. That's maybe a connection." "We might finally be onto something with this case," Morgan agreed, already connecting a call to Garcia. "Well hello there, my chocolate god," Garcia spoke. "What can I do for you? Please say something dirty."  Morgan couldn't surpress a chuckle. "How about a dirty word? Pyschopath." "Ugh, ewww," Garcia lamented. "I meant something funner. Sexier."  "Tomorrow, babygirl. There's always tomorrow." Out of the corner of his eye he could see JJ shaking her head with a grin on her face.  "I'm holding you to it," Garcia promised, and Derek could hear the smile on those dirty little lips of hers.  "Look up Samuel Ness for me. N-E-S-S." "What are you looking for exactly?" "Anything that could show he's a deranged pyscho." "Hmm. He's got a record. Assault in '88. Used a bat to beat up an ex-girlfriend. Icky." "Anything else?"  "That's about it. Born here in Paxville. Works at our Café Dulché. Mother passed away about a year ago. No mention of father." "Alright, babygirl. Send it over to us." "Done." Morgan snapped his phone closed, catching JJ's smirk. "Don't start," he warned, buckling his belt.  "Wouldn't dream of it." But that smirk never left her face.

“i’m still expecting you to talk it out,” he says, eyes focused on sunoo although he’s talking to the both of them.  “the tension in the room is off, i can tell you haven’t without even asking.  you can kiss and mess around all you want, but it won’t change anything.  talk it out, i’m serious, riki-san,” he glances towards niki at the end of his sentence, feeling the need to remind him of that specifically.  “we’ll let you know about your appointment later,” heeseung too, is gone just as quickly as he came. leaving the two younger males alone.    except now, it’s fucking awkward.  great.  will riki even want to talk it out? will he refuse? sunoo feels uneasy again.  still—laying in the younger’s bed. that won’t work.  sunoo goes to pull off the covers, pulling his legs off the bed.  he’s stopped immediately.  what did he think was going to happen?    “i don’t think so,” niki carefully readjusts sunoos body back on his bed, just like before, standing directly next to it with his arms crossed.     “so…”   sunoo trails off, pretending as if he didn’t just give the younger a nasty look.  he crosses his arms—leaning back in nikis bed whilst looking up at him.  sunoo always struggled with maintaining eye contact with anyone, regarding the fact that he was rather confident.  but niki? with niki it just made matters worse.  ten times worse.  niki held a piercing gaze, completely unreadable and sunoo fucking hated that.  he hated it so much that just by looking at the others’ stupid face made him want to lash out.  thus, sunoo shouldn’t hit niki anymore.  he should’ve never.  that wouldn’t set a good example at all, and that’s all he’s wanted to do for niki.    “are you feeling okay?” niki asks quite blankly, blinking down at the boy in his bed.  sunoo slowly maneuvers his head up and down, forming a weak nod.  “i said,” the younger male starts, “are you feeling okay? use your words hyung.  i can't understand you,”    “you can understand me just fine riki,”    sunoo snaps back as if that’s going to help anything.  niki only scoffs in response.    “then we’re done here,”    sunoo swears he sees nikis pupils dilate.  he suddenly became so serious once the other hyung’s intervened.  they ruined a lot of things nowadays.  niki turns on his heels to walk toward the door, but sunoo is quicker.  much quicker.  niki wasn’t necessarily trying to race out of there but—sunoo was still proud for being able to get up and launch himself toward niki with a hurt ankle.  the smaller boy wraps his hands around nikis waist, hugging his body close to his.  he’s putting all of his support into niki, which maybe wasn’t the best idea but he was already here so no there was no going back.    niki stops abruptly of course as there’s now another human hanging onto him.  sunoo pouts, nuzzling his face into nikis back.  riki seems to be puzzled on what to do.  “sunoo hyung,” he calls gently, immediately lifting his hands to place them on sunoos.  he attempts at prying him off but it’s practically no use.  “what’re doing?” he tries, looking for really any response at this point.  he gets it, though one he wasn’t necessarily expecting.  soft sniffles echo throughout the shared bedroom—as if someone had caught a cold and just sneezed.  it was really just sunoo crying.  beginning to, at least.     “please riki-yah, please,”    sunoo pleads in this agony-like tone.  niki doesn’t even know what he’s begging for.     “what’s the matter? let go of me so i can see you—“    “i like you, nishimura riki,”    here we go.    “everything that happened was a mistake.  what i did was wrong, and i regret everything i’ve put you through for the last three months.  but i miss you, miss you so damn much.  i miss playing games with you, your teases, cleaning up after your messes and helping you improve your korean.  i miss your laughs and your giggles, your jokes that never fail to cheer me up.  i miss your scent and your clothes and your bed.  i miss…i miss you.  i need you to understand how hard this was for me.  to process it all, especially with being an idol.  it’s important you take the time to look at both sides of the story, just—anything.”    sunoo chokes back a sob, not wanting to appear as weak or foolish to niki.  he wanted to stay strong, in case the other continued to reject his advances or still not believe him. sunoo also prepared for the worse—though that didn’t seem to be helping since he was certainly expecting niki to understand or hell, at least fucking try.  niki was young and naive.  all the things he thought he knew, the ways he thought were best for handling difficult situations like this weren’t perfect, that was clear.  riki was so damn stubborn.  sunoo couldn’t see how he was in the wrong, rather niki, of course.  thus, sunoo believed he himself was stuck up.     “don’t walk out on me again, i don’t know what else i’ll do.  as much as i love my job, i value whatever relationship we have now way more.  it means practically nothing to me if it’s compared with you,”    sunoos cheeks swell in a rosy red shade, a thick layer of tears running down from his eyes.  they were lonely and sad tears.  just like sunoo was.  he maintained his death grip—not wanting to give niki any way of escape.  the room fell silent and that terrified sunoo.  he was waiting and waiting for what niki would do or say.  waiting for anything.  any sort of rejection or lecture.  whatever he would receive, he’d have to learn to accept.    sunoo loved niki.  meaning he’d respect all of his wishes and desires.  and if that meant sunoo where to stay away from him, then so be it.  so fucking be it.    “what do you want me to say here, hyung?” niki asks in a questioning tone as if sunoo could read his mind.     “i don’t know riki…whatever you want to say, but what i said, is the truth,” sunoo wasn’t sounding very convincing to niki.  but what else was he supposed to do?    “how do you expect me to trust you?”    that’s it, sunoo is fed up and certainly not taking that as an acceptable response.   he cuts riki off in a hurried manner; voice certain.  “no matter how upset you are with me, you can’t possibly say that you don’t reciprocate your feelings,”    niki is quiet after that.    “you wouldn’t have helped me out.  you wouldn’t have let me lay in your bed and you wouldn’t have gotten me medicine and water.  you wouldn’t have pretended to care about me—you wouldn’t have kissed me,” sunoos voice begins to sound whiny, little voice cracks all throughout his sentence, beginning to cry again.  he nuzzles his face right into the clothing niki wears, tears and snot probably rubbing off on it too.  he hiccups.    “you’re right, i wouldn’t have,” nikis fingers run soothingly over sunoos.  perhaps to ease his mind—calm him down.    “but you know that—you knew that.  you’ve known how i felt about you, ever since i first kissed you back in that parking lot.  you don’t just kiss anyone, y’know?” niki turns his head to peer over his shoulder, attempting to get a glimpse towards sunoo.  he’s completely hidden himself, face smooshed into the younger boys back like he’s hiding from a monster.   this time, sunoo remains silent.    “nor would you kiss back if feelings aren't…reciprocated,” niki purposely chooses sunoos previous word choice.  he’s listening.  he pays attention to what his hyung says, and he wants him to know that without outright saying so. he believes sunoo likes him too.    “y-you know i like you too.  i’ve said it a lot,” sunoo finally croaks up a response, sounding as if he hadn’t drank water in days.  his voice was raspy and felt like it was stuck in the back of his throat.  all the crying made him feel dizzy, not to mention the sudden throb his ankle started to possess.  but it was all worth it.  all worth it to get niki back in his arms.     “you need to let go of me,” he starts.  sunoo doesn’t budge, not even a little.  niki tsks, shaking his head from side to side with a little smug smile.  “sunoo-ssi, please, for me? i don’t want you standing on your ankle this long, i’m sure it’s hurting you,”    sunoo rolls his eyes at that stupid nickname.  niki always thought he was all big and mighty when dropping honorifics.  as much as it was adorable, sunoo would still protest.  “why did you have to say it like that?” sunoo pouts.    “huh?” niki barely gets out a mumble before sunoo is speaking again.   “please, for me.  how can i not listen when you say that?” sunoos arms fall to his side, lightly shoving niki off in front of him.  he notices he left his towel behind, forgotten and simply collecting dust, located on nikis bed.  he was in a hurry and bringing something with him to cover himself just wasn’t on the mind.  it didn’t matter, not at all actually, since he was with niki anyway.  sunoo wasn’t a pervert but they’ve participated in worse activities.     thus, sunoo still hurried back to the bed, sitting on the edge of it with the towel lazily thrown over his lap.  it covers what needs to be covered and that was really all that mattered.  he remains seated with his hands laying in his lap.  niki finally turns around, facing sunoo with his arms crossed once again.  why was he acting like he had so much authority? this brat was going to get it.    “can you forgive me…eventually? it doesn’t have to be now, i just—miss you.  every single part,” sunoo trails off, not finishing what he wanted to say.  he figured he’d be able to tell niki another time.  at a more appropriate time.    niki shakes his head, a devilish grin appearing on his lips.  he bites down on his bottom lip, slightly shaking his head from side to side.  niki eventually looks down to the floor, leaving sunoo confused.  he doesn’t even say anything to what the older male just had said.  how strange.    “what?” sunoo questions, eyes curiously observing as much as niki as they possibly could.  fuck teenagers going through puberty.  he blames that on niki not being as readable as he used to be.  thus niki is well out of his puberty stage.  hell, he was almost an adult.  that’ll be a freaky day.  sunoo refuses to believe it or even acknowledge it, in fact.     “it’s just funny…” niki starts, head raising to connect eyes with sunoo once more.  “don’t you realize—no, how couldn’t you? look at you, kim sunoo.” niki speaks so cockily, laughing like a fucking saint.  who does this kid think he is? just because he was hot didn’t mean anything, not one thing.  and sunoo, sunoo was baffled.  what had gotten into him? sunoo swears his dongsaeng is bipolar.    “what’s—what’s wrong with me?” sunoo glances down at himself before looking back up at niki.  he feels how harsh his heart is beating and just how rapidly it does.  his cheeks are definitely hot, polished in red from his sudden blushing.  the things niki did to him.  unacceptable.    “sitting on my bed, tears sprinkling your cheeks that make your eyes all red and glassy.  you’re naked—only thing covering you is a towel, hair still wet and messy whilst you plead for forgiveness? you’re practically begging me to fuck you,” niki shows his big bright beautiful teeth from smiling so silly.  he laughs, chuckles—over and over again.  sunoo can’t recall when niki exactly moved closer to him either.  he was losing his mind.    sunoo gasps at how naughty niki is speaking. he can’t believe he had the balls to just—to just outright say something like that! where did he even get that from? who is he learning from? it’s fucking hot but jesus christ.  who was he kidding, he wanted niki so bad.  he’d do anything.  anything for him.    “what—? cat got your tongue? or is it the way your legs have spread open further and further throughout the course of this conversation?” nikis face becomes dark—dropping to something much more serious.  he approached sunoo now.    “should i just take you right here right now?” nikis fingers find their way on top of sunoos covered thigh, desperately trying to find the opening underneath the towel.  he’s met with soft, milky skin, immediately gripping onto the base of the towel after.  sunoo panics.  mentally and physically—jaw falling slack.     “r-riki,” he breathes out, shaking his head as his gaze moves from the others’ hands to his eyes.  niki cocks his head to the side, eyelids hooded, staring hungrily at sunoo.  at this point, sunoo doesn’t care if niki won’t forgive him after this.  not at this moment of course.  sunoo wants him so badly.  he has for way too long not to go through with this.  “r-riki i—” he stares directly up at niki, lips slightly parted.  they crave to taste him—sunoo wanting to dive into niki, to drown in him.     niki raises his eyebrows; “hm? speak up for me,” he grabs sunoos chin with his free hand, raising the latters head.  sunoo obliges immediately.  “i want you,” although sunoo didn’t intend to beg—that’s exactly how it sounds and looks.  needy and just so whiny.  niki feeds off it.  he adores it.  so, niki plans to give sunoo exactly what he wants.    but he can’t.    “i’m not going to fuck you,” niki begins, turning around and approaching the bedroom door.  he locks it nonchalantly, not wanting anymore unwanted interruptions.  “what? why?” sunoo sounds so panicky, how cute.  “your ankle.  i really don’t want to hurt it more than it already is, especially if it’s already broken or sprained.” niki explains, turning around to walk back in sunoos direction.  sunoo of course, disagrees.  “b-but riki, you won’t—you won’t hurt it, please i really need…”    “i’m still going to give you what you want,” niki cuts sunoos begging spree short.  he could listen to it all day, he really could, but the younger male started to feel bad.  sunoo looked really out of it, especially because of before, when he was in the middle of getting off and couldn’t exactly do so.  niki would be able to drag this on another day, perhaps when they were alone and sunoo wasn’t injured.  but for now, they weren’t as lucky.    “how could you give me what i want? i want you,” sunoo grabs at nikis shirt, tugging the bottom of it anxiously.  he pouts and niki can’t help but chuckle.    “you’re being ungrateful hyung, sounding like a toddler being so demanding.  i could give you nothing, would you want that?” niki cocks his head to the side, much like before, and sunoo wants to fucking rage.  he stares angrily, knowing that he doesn’t have much of a choice.  so he agrees.  desperately, at that.    “n-no! okay okay, i’m sorry.” he didn’t intend to stutter either, yet here he was, practically begging for cock.  must be his favorite thing to do, beg.  he sure was good at it.    “that’s more like it,” niki smirks, running his fingers through sunoos hair affectionately.  and sunoo melts into his grip, practically purring like a cat.  he wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.  he was certain that he was in love with niki.    when niki reconnects their lips this time, it’s much different from all their previous kisses.  it’s slow—niki takes his time with sunoo—it’s passionate—sunoo kisses niki like he’s a painting in a museum, his most prized possession—it’s calm and collected—niki shows just how much sunoo means to him by treating him with care and respect—most importantly, it’s meaningful.  this is something both sunoo and niki have longed for, and now that they’ve finally gotten it uninterrupted, they’re going to take advantage of it.    niki maneuvers onto the bed beside sunoo,  sitting closest to the headboard of the bed.  he skillfully does this all without ever breaking the kiss—bringing sunoo closer so that he’s straddling nikis lap.  at this point, the towel is long forgotten once again, sunoos length laying flat against his tummy that happens to be rubbing against niki each time they move.  it’s killing sunoo.  but he has to be patient.  he knows niki knows.     niki breaks away for only a few seconds, allowing for the two to catch their breaths.  thus he goes in, attacking sunoos neck leaving as many hickeys and kisses as possible.  niki figures that sunoo will have to sit out from activity for a while anyway due to his ankle, so why not leave a few indications that he was there and that they had a good time together? niki was all for it, and figured sunoo was too by the sudden noises he was making.    sunoo moved his head to the side to grant niki better access to his neck.  with each bite—each kiss or even lick, left sunoo in shambles.  he whined and groaned and moaned any chance he got.  he just couldn’t help it, niki made him feel so good.  inside and out.  “r-riki—please, hurry for hyung.  it hurts,” sunoo pleads, and niki will oblige just this one time.  they needed to get a move on anyway.  it was getting late and soon enough, sunghoon or jungwon would come knocking on the door.  or maybe, just maybe, they could take a fucking hint and give them some space.  niki rolls his eyes mentally at that.     “gonna make you feel good,” niki murmurs against sunoos skin, removing his hands from the depths of sunoos body.  he rushes  to undo his belt, pulling at the buttons to remove his blue jeans.  sunoo becomes extremely excited at the sight.     niki finally tears his lips away from sunoos skin; the younger male squirming at the sight of his hyung, naked on top of him.  it practically sends niki off to la la land, his arousal finally catching up to him.  “so pretty…” he coos, trailing his fingertips up and down sunoos skin.  riki had some sort of infatuation with sunoos thighs, the elder not really understanding it.  they were slender and pale, that’s all.    “riki—”   niki cuts sunoo off; “yeah yeah, i know,” he really does.  niki was so precious.     niki takes his cock out from his pants, his plan to satisfy the both of them at once.  he hated rushing but there wasn’t much he could do besides that.  it was late and the others could be coming any minute now.  “i’m going to jerk us off, together,” niki stares at sunoo—wanting to see his reaction.  consent was really important to the younger boy and if that was something sunoo didn’t want then it wasn’t going to happen.  thus, knowing sunoo—he nods eagerly, desperately wanting attention on his cock.  niki coos once again.     “r-riki—yah i can’t—i can’t, i—” sunoo starts to mumble a whole bunch of bullshit once niki wraps his hand around the base of his cock.  he slowly starts to stroke sunoo up and down, thumbing at his tip.  he uses the sudden ooze of pre-cum to make the slide easier, this time picking up the pace at which he jerks sunoo off.  he wants to get the older going before adding his own dick in—just made the experience better in nikis opinion.  he may not have done any of this before, but he’s watched more than enough videos to know what to do.  he even considered himself a professional.  teenagers.    sunoo has his head thrown back already—naughty noises croaking from his throat each time niki strokes him just right.  and the latter finds this absolutely amusing, the effect he had over his hyung was like no other.  he could sit here and watch this for days—observe sunoo unravel on top of him.  but niki was too impatient and they really needed to move along at a steady pace.  curse sharing a room.  it wasn’t fair that heeseung got his own anyway!     “here we go hyung,” niki says as a warning that he’s going to add himself in the situation—slowing his hand movements until it’s at a complete stop.  sunoo is breathing like he just ran a marathon, just nodding as a response.  usually niki wouldn’t take that, wanting something verbal.  but again, they had no time to waste so he just went with it.  niki aligns their cocks together, his being visibly longer and overall thicker.  sunoo just had a cute tiny cock.  niki would take advantage of teasing him for that later—but at the same time adored it so much.     “please please—please riki,” tears spill over sunoos eyes, a few of them flowing down his cheeks at a time.  niki hadn’t a clue sunoo could get this worked up so easily.  it was quite cute, but it made niki want to give sunoo what he wanted immediately.  sunoo always called him the little shit—but it was most definitely the other way around.     “calm down sunoo-ssi, hyung’s got you,” niki emphasizes the hyung, knowing damn well that’d get underneath sunoos skin.  the elder was so against niki not using honorifics.  how would he feel when niki referred to himself as hyung rather than sunoo?  “nishimura riki—d-don’t you start with me,” sunoo gasps, head coming down to rest on nikis shoulder.  holding himself up was hard enough, he couldn’t even imagine how he’d feel once they actually have sex.  probably like floating on clouds and swimming through heaven.  though he already felt that way just by being with niki.     “or should i make you call me oppa? cause’ that’s just what you are, right? a girl? want oppa to fuck you like a girl?” niki flicks his wrist relentlessly—making sunoo scream.  the pleasure was so overwhelming that sunoo didn’t even know what to fucking do with himself.  he blushed and squirmed at nikis filthy words—doing his absolute best not to let it affect him.  it was almost impossible, especially when niki kept pushing on it.     “you’re so wet—so messy, almost like you have a cunt, sunoo-ssi.  are you my little princess? hm?” niki teases viciously and it only makes sunoo turned on even more.  which he didn’t think was possible.  “r-riki i’m cumming—!” sunoo whales, nails digging into nikis bareback.  somehow sunoo managed to wiggle his fingers underneath nikis shirt.  he doesn’t even remember doing so, so don’t ask him.     “i don’t think so.  not until you say my name,” niki removes his hand from their dicks, smirking so evilly it’s practically sinful.  “niki-yah, please, don’t do this to me,” sunoo begs but he knows how stubborn niki is.  he won’t let up until he gets what he wants.    “just say my name, hyungie~”    fuck him.    “p-please let me cum o-oppa,” sunoo then begins to lazily mouth at nikis neck, becoming desperate though he already was.  he squeezes the latter harshly—doing anything in his power to get niki to start moving again.  the younger male seems satisfied in his response, so he begins to stroke them off together again.    and instantly, sunoo cums.  he cums with another scream, which niki tries to muffle with his hand.  warm white liquid squirts from sunoos throbbing cock, and niki follows shortly after.     sunoo lays blissfully on nikis chest, holding the boy close to him as the sudden tiredness takes over his body.  niki knows they can’t just stay there looking like that.  his bed his dirty, as well as both of their bodies.  they needed to wash up.  luckily the hallway is dark and completely empty whilst niki carries sunoos limp body to the bathroom.  he managed to remove his bed sheets and dispose of them properly, all without waking up sunoo, too.  now that was a mission accomplished.    instead of a shower, niki runs a bath for sunoo.  he makes sure it’s warm and bubbly, wanting to keep sunoos skin as soft as a baby’s bottom.  it felt nice when they laid skin to skin, niki wanted to do that more often.     “wake up sleepy head, let me wash your hair,” niki tsks, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows.  sunoo surprisingly blinks a few times, recognizing the change in his surroundings and the fact that he wasn’t in nikis arms anymore.  “do you really have to do all this?” sunoo pouts.  niki rolls his eyes whilst dumping shampoo in his hands.  “do you really have to complain about everything? let me do something nice,” sunoo obliges because what else can he really do in this situation? he liked when niki took care of him anyway.  he liked when the other gave him all of his attention.  made sunoos cheeks flush a deep shade of red.    “i’m not a baby riki, i can wash my own hair,” he closes his eyes and smiles when niki applies the shampoo, scrubbing his hair thoroughly.  niki doesn’t reply, only continues his work.  once he rinses out the shampoo, he adds the conditioner, waiting a little longer to rinse that out.  it’s always good to keep your conditioner longer than the shampoo, in nikis opinion.  makes your hair softer.  “let me wash your body too,”    sunoo was not having that.   “no way,” he immediately protests, turning his body away from niki.  the bubbles thankfully hid all his private parts from anyone being able to see; “as if i haven’t seen it all before,” niki coos, ruffling sunoos wet hair.  it’s almost as if he can read minds. sunoo slowly turns nikis way, a sad pout anchored on his lips.  niki thinks it’s quite adorable—of course he does.  “can we get this over with?” sunoo requests demandly, crossing his arms over his body.  “calm down sunoo-ssi, it’ll only take a bit,” niki rubs the body wash together in his hands.   “don’t call me that,”   “you seemed to enjoy it while i was getting you off just a few minutes ago,”    sunoo gasps.  “don’t you say that out loud,” he glares angrily at niki.  and niki tsks.   “i haven’t even accepted your apology yet and you're already giving me this?” niki says.    “you still don’t forgive me?” sunoo peers up, giving the puppy dog eyes.    “i don’t,” niki smirks.    “asshole,” sunoo splashes niki with some of his bath water.    “so that’s how you wanna play?” niki splashes sunoo right back.    “i’m the one already wet! it’s not as effective for you,” sunoo sticks out his tongue and niki cocks his head to the right.   “you’re right—you were so wet, just like a girl,”    “shut up!”    sunoo splashes much more this time, drenching niki in warm water.  they both start to chuckle—sunoo giggling whilst niki shakes his head to get some of the water out of his hair like a dog.  then, they lock eyes.  so cliché these two.  time practically slows and niki is giving sunoo that same look he did earlier—hunger.  curse him.  sunoo was so in love it wasn’t even funny.    “come in,” sunoo suggests faintly, and niki is already taking off his shirt.  seems as if they both had similar thoughts.  thus, niki smiles innocently and hops in the bathtub, sitting on the opposite side of sunoo.  he pats his lap suggestively.  “so warm,” he gives that boyish smile.  niki is such a boy.  he smells like one, sweats like one, acts dumb and playful like one, dresses like one and behaves like one.  it makes sense because niki is a boy.  but niki is so boy.  sunoo couldn’t explain it but he knew he loved it.  he loved his sweaty smell and his adam’s apple.  he loved niki.  he ate that right up—the fact that niki was a boy.  sunoo was definitely gay.    the latter climbs his way over and up on nikis lap, straddling him much like before.  nothing naughty takes place, sunoo only lays comfortably on the younger’s chest.  it was times like these that sunoo forgot he was an idol in the first place.  like he was free to love niki in public, free to flaunt him and go out with him.  it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t.  he planned to stay with him all the way up until enhypen would finally disband, years into the future, and then finally post pictures of them kissing or something.  that felt so romantic to sunoo.    “what’re you thinking about?” niki asks softly, bringing his hand up to casually run through sunoos hair whilst the other caresses his back.  sunoo smiles—niki knew him so well.   “you,” he says.    “just me?” niki questions.    “us,” sunoo corrects himself.    niki hums in response.    there was so much to talk about with plenty of time to do so.  sunoo was way too sleepy for any of it.  he figured niki could tell, by the way he was replying.  simply.  they were both exhausted.  sunoo really didn’t want to deal with whatever was to come tomorrow, so he takes the opportunity to fall asleep soundly where he always wants to be.    in nikis arms. 

Everyone needs a hobby. That's what they say isn't it? Truth is, I've always been interested in art and this evening class is the perfect excuse to indulge that passion while getting me out of the house for a few hours each week. Much as I love my husband, we all need a little personal space now and again. Clutching my drawing materials, my heels click steadily along the tiled corridor of the local school which hosts the lessons. The eerie quiet of a school during evening time is not something I think I will ever get used to. My gaze moves disinterestedly over the various posters and flyers pinned to the noticeboards advertising after school clubs and other scholastic activities. I sniff as the faint whiff of bleach permeates the area. I walk head back and erect. It is amazing what being short does for one's posture -- anything to gain that extra inch or two. I'm 5'0 without my heels, slim, large brown eyes, brown hair down to my shoulders and 34C breasts which are slightly too big for my frame...although I don't often get complaints about that, I admit. The balmy warmth of the summer air is detectable even in the usually cool hallways. My pretty summer dress is white with large blue flowers printed erratically across it and is made of a light, breathable, material that floats pleasantly against my bare legs beneath, hem tapping rhythmically just above my knees as I walk. As I approach the door to room 3C I catch sight of one of the other class regulars approaching from the opposite direction. We are into the second month of lessons, and I know most of the members of the group as we often go for a drink together after class. The fact that most of the other students are male does not hurt, although a few are rather boorish for my taste. "David, how are you?" I ask pleasantly as we arrive at the door together. I catch his eyes quickly flickering up from scanning my lightly tanned, smooth legs as he smiles. "I'm great Mrs. Sarah, really looking forward to tonight's class. Allow me..." He replies, pulling open the door to let me pass into the room as I note his unusually high level of enthusiasm. Upon entering we both pause as the class is much busier than usual. Most of the hard-core regulars are sat at their usual places, but they have been joined by an array of semi-familiar faces that have only attended one or two of the previous lessons and seem to have all chosen to mysteriously rekindle their interest in art at the same time. Also, and even more surprising, the other female members of the class seem to be entirely absent. Frowning, I make a beeline for one of the empty chairs, David following and slipping into the seat next to me. Having a little more time to process the attendees I reflect on the fact that I am the only woman this week and can't help but wonder why. "I knew it would be busy this week." David leans over and nods wisely, looking around the room and waving at a few of the men we know. He even seems to receive a wink from Jason, one of the most arrogant and chauvinistic amongst the group. "What made you think that?" I ask casually, as I also acknowledge the regular students and am rewarded with friendly smiles in return...and the occasional smirk from the more laddish contingent -- including from Jason, obviously. I pause as I sense David looking at me in surprise. I turn to him and raise my eyebrows quizzically. "Don't you remember the schedule we got in week one? It is the life drawing class tonight." He prompts as he grins, giving me a nudge and eyeing me closely as the words sink in. Only after hearing the explanation do I notice the set of solid, low, wide boxes creating a make-shift stage with a solitary, lonely chair in its centre, and a small stand-alone folding screen behind. "Ah that explains it" I sniff, irritated that the men are here for such adolescent reasons instead of for the love of art. I pout as I huffily pull out my paper and pastels, setting the coloured sticks neatly in the narrow, grooved ledge of the provided easel. Still, I think, surely the women haven't all stayed away because of that, have they? Very strange. I ignore David as I sense his grin remains as he watches me for a few seconds longer before breaking the spell and sorting out his own kit. As he does so, the clock on the far wall moves to 8pm and, simultaneously, the instructor, Mr. Perry, enters. A stickler for punctuality, we often joke about his metronomic arrival each week. "Evening class" he says gruffly. A shortish man, Mr. Perry fits the starving artist cliché perfectly. Disheveled and scruffy but with an intense peering gaze trained to observe all details, he clatters to the front and stumbles onto the boxed stage-like construction to address us more formally. An expectant hush descends on the room. I look around to see if anyone else has followed him in, but he is alone and clears his throat to say, somewhat sheepishly, "Uh, frightfully bad news you know -- awfully sorry and all that -- I'm afraid the model has had to, well, that is to say, she is not able to...tonight...uh, she isn't coming." Dropping the bombshell with a fluttering of hands and stuttering of words. I look down and consciously suppress a smile as I listen to the sighs and grumbles of the men. 'Serves them right for only being here to stare -- perverts' I think to myself, amused and -- to some extent -- relieved that tonight will revert to a standard art class, one more in my comfort zone. The moans continue and sound rather over-done to my ears, almost like a bad actor over-playing their part. "But we were promised life drawing!" The exclamation coming from Jon, one of the more irritating members of the group. The wheedling, almost child-like plea is highly satisfying to me, and I can't stop my smile appearing as I look at his forlorn expression. He catches me smirking and is about to smirk back but seems to catch himself and, instead, he scowls darkly. "Well, uh, as you see that, well best of intentions and all that...you get the idea but fear not dear aspiring Michelangelos...and Michelangeloesses of course..." he adds as an afterthought, bowing theatrically in my direction "for I have, that is we always have, some, uh, excellent -- what I like to call...STILL LIFE!" "Maybe you could get a volunteer" states Jon firmly, glaring at the instructor and the unappealing thought of spending the next two hours painting an apple. After the words hang in the air for a second, he looks directly round to where I am sat -- the eyes of the class following his gaze. I freeze as all attention turns to me. My mouth opens then closes as I cross my arms defensively over my chest, the movement pressing my dress against the lace bra beneath. "Well, I hardly think..." I begin, indeed finding it hard to think before I alight on an excuse "...in this modern day and age that it needs be a woman -- why don't YOU do it?" I say, satisfied, as I turn everyone's attention back to Jon. "I suppose that's your feminist principles coming through Sarah?" he responds evenly, trying not to let his emotions show. "I know from our debates you are all for equality so why don't we draw lots for it." He finishes, leaning back and watching me as I realise it is almost impossible for me to refuse. "To be fair we should all put our names in" I insist, certain that at least some of the group will refuse and the whole idea will be abandoned. To my surprise, however, there is instant agreement from everyone, one might even describe it as enthusiastic agreement. I feel startled but calm myself with the thought that the odds are well in my favour now -- maybe 12 or 15 to 1 against my being the chosen model. "Splendid, uh, yes indeed splendid, spiffing work all, let me hand these out -- write your names on the paper please and drop in the metaphorical hat, by which I mean this cardboard box." The instructor chortles happily, rapidly handing out small, pre-prepared, rectangles of paper to us all and placing the box at the front of the stage. My fingers tremble as I take the proffered slip of paper. 'How did this happen?' I ask myself. Logically I know the chance of being chosen is small, but logic holds no sway against my body's fight-or-flight instinct. I feel my pulse rate increasing as I scrawl my name using one of the pastels, fold the paper, and drop it into the box. I close my eyes for a second to compose myself. My mind fills with the sounds of the room as chairs are scrapped back and heavy footsteps trudge to the box and back. I exhale evenly and slowly to calm myself and re-open my eyes as the instructor lifts the box, shakes it a few times and dips his hand ominously into the scraps of paper. With a flourish, he pulls out a single slip and holds it aloft as he carefully places the box on the table to the side. "And the winner...." He jokes, smiling around the room and being rewarded with delighted chuckles from some. He pauses dramatically as I hold my breath. I look left and right but the men seem far more relaxed than I about the situation -- perhaps that is just the way men are -- showoffs. "...is..." he grins, enjoying his moment of power. I narrow my eyes in annoyance, and, as I turn my head my gaze meets Jon's who is, for some reason, smiling at me. A smile that only widens a second later as we all hear, "SARAH! Oh well done my dear, uh, splendidly well done I must say! Many congratulations my baby girl!" Enthuses the teacher as he quickly drops the slip of paper back into the box along with the others. Time stands still. I hear the happy mumblings of the class and observe Jon's gleeful smirk of triumph. These observations suggest that time must be moving -- but it also stands still. My mind shrinks back in its skull looking for a safe place to hide. I might have sat frozen like that forever had it not been for an eager nudge from David alerting me to Mr. Perry's outstretched hand. I reach for the hand, the only steadying presence in my world, and am led behind the rickety screen on the makeshift stage. I can hear him speak but must force myself to register the meaning of his words. "Thank you so much Sarah, and I think I speak for all the men here, when I, uh, say that we are extremely pleased you volunteered as it were. Now just pop all your clothes off there's a good girl -- all in the name of art, eh?!" He smiles, leaving me behind the screen, partially hidden from the rest of the class. I blink as I gradually come to my senses. Hearing the noise of my classmates shockingly, intimately close as I fumble with the zip at the back of my dress, the sudden loosening of its hold results in a soft whoosh as it slips over my body and puddles around my ankles and heels. I gingerly step from it and pick it up, glancing around but seeing no obvious place to put it I hang it over the top of the screen aware that it can now be half seen by all. I bite my lip to steady myself once more, stood just in heels and underwear in the suddenly draughty art room, I reach behind my back. The familiar bra clasp defeats me for a moment. Like a young man's fumbling attempts to discover the mystery of female underwear I tug helplessly at it for a moment before muscle memory kicks in and I feel the restraint give. This second loosening is much worse than the first. I feel the sensation of my chest falling forward, the usually supportive material sagging off them. I glance down at my exposed breasts, harsh in the light of the room, small nipples tingling at their unexpected freedom. I quickly look away, the sight of their wanton roundness worsening my nerves. I look at the useless strip of material in my hand and hang it up over the screen on top of my dress. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a scurrying to and from the screen then a low, whispered, '34C'. I pause for a second as I attempt to steady myself. Inhaling deeply and forcing my breathing to slow as I kick off my heels. The resulting reduction in height emphasises my reduction in confidence as I grip the waistband of my black lace panties with my thumbs and strip them down my legs and off. The ball of lace in my hand takes on a mind of its own and snags and falls back against my face as I attempt to lay it over the top of the screen. I scowl but my second attempt is more successful and my panties balance precariously on top of the rest of my clothes. My hopes for a few extra moments to collect myself are instantly dashed as the appearance of my panties upon the screen signals my full state of nudity and acts as a siren call to Mr. Perry who pops his head around the screen. "Ah there we are now Sarah, that's a girl, eh?" He smiles at me as his eyes dart over my newly exposed form, whether to appreciate the artistic possibilities or for other reasons I cannot say. "Now, I'll put your personals away for safekeeping" he continues as he collects my clothes and places them in a wooden cupboard at the back of the room a few feet behind me. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just..." I watch as he bends down directly in front of me to collect my shoes, his face mere inches from my exposed shaven pussy. I can't help but place a small hand over myself, covering between my legs as he rises once more and locks everything away, pocketing the key in his worn jacket. "There now" he smiles "out you pop and sit on the chair -- the men are eager to get started!" says Mr. Perry. I can imagine they are indeed eager but, trying not to think of that, I purse my lips and gather my courage before moving to the side of the screen and quickly padding to the chair, careful to keep my legs jammed together as I sit, arms crossed over my chest in a somewhat unnatural position. Silence rules for a second. The dozen or so men in the room taking in my exposed skin with their triumphant gazes. All thoughts of art seem to have deserted them as the moment extends tensely before Mr. Perry, the first to remember why we are here, continues, "Right, well then, there we are, isn't that just, I mean isn't Sarah...that is we should start drawing! ART! DRAWING! Come along now gentlemen, let's get those pictures going -- you wouldn't want to miss taking a record of this would you?" He jokes to some polite chortles. As the silence of the room is replaced with soft scribblings of pastels on paper, I begin to feel my heart rate return to normal. Slowly I come to terms with the situation, glad that the instructor let me keep my chosen pose. Here I am, nude in front of all the men in a school room but at least I am partially covered. The feel of my nipples pressing against my covering arms provides some comfort as I stare directly at the front wall. Moments pass and the strange situation begins to feel normal. As it does, I decide to take a chance and move my vision from a fixed point on the wall and direct it cautiously around the room. I catch sight of the first few men focussed on my form and their drawings and I begin to wonder if this is not so bad after all when I make the mistake of catching Jon's eye. He is looking directly at me then slowly moves his eyes up and down my exposed body before giving me a cheeky wink -- the nerve of the man! I frown and look back to the blank wall. Slowly I start to count backwards from 100 to distract myself and pass the time until this is all over. From my current position I can't see the clock, which is behind me, and my phone is still in my handbag which I left by my seat in the earlier confusion -- not that I would be allowed to move to retrieve it anyway. My self-hypnosis drifts me into a reverie until Mr. Perry breaks the spell. "Right, I think we have just about exhausted that pose -- so to speak -- so let us, er, you know, have a different one shall we.... now then, what would be good?!" He says, pausing with a thoughtful look upon his face, finger tapping at his lips as he ponders his (and my) next move. "Perhaps one foot lifted onto the seat of the chair?" Suggests Jon innocently, looking at the instructor but only after a sly grin in my direction. Mr. Perry looks over at the unexpected interjection "Oh Jon, yes, well, er, interesting idea I suppose, what exactly...? That is, how exactly do you envisage the, uh...Well, why not come up and show us...position her as you envisage, please." Before I can object Jon is up out of his seat and towering over me. He pauses for a second until I meet his eye then calmly, slowly, reaches down and runs his hands down my lower leg until he grasps my ankle. Half bent forward he looks back up at me as he begins to lift it causing my knee to bend and leg to rise. I feel my chest tremble in alarm, my arms instinctively folding tighter in surprise as my leg begins to lift, moving to the side a little and parting from the other. I look at Jon, but he is still grinning as he places my foot gently but firmly flat onto the seat of the chair. The movement has opened my legs a little but also moved my body position so that my pussy is now on show to half of the room. "Ah yes!" exclaims Mr Perry "I see your intention -- extending the leg muscles just so.... Gives a certain dynamism to the whole tableaux! Wonderful!" I am highly sceptical that that was indeed Jon's intention but hardly have time to think about it as Jon turns back to the instructor, "...and then the arms like this?" as, without waiting for reply, he lifts my arms from their protective position and moves them behind my head. The resultant movement of my torso pushes my naked breasts forward and presents them fully to the room. "Wonderful Jon, you have an eye for these sort of things -- that's perfect -- back to your place now and let's draw!" Jon smiles at the instructor's compliment and nods, turning casually, his trailing hand moves lightly across my breasts, the touch innocent and accidental looking but having the effect of hardening my already sensitive nipples and causing me to wriggle slightly. "Don't fidget Sarah -- stay still!" admonishes Mr. Perry firmly and I, chastened, freeze in place once more. This time is different. Acutely aware of how much more I am showing, my mind refuses to be distracted by the wall or the time or counting or...anything that isn't my current situation. I swallow as I try to bring some moisture back into my dry mouth. I know I shouldn't, but I look over at Jon, almost desperate to irritate myself further as I see my nemesis's enjoyment of the situation he has put me in. Of course, he lifted my leg that was furthest from his side of the room, so he now has an unobstructed view of both my breasts and my bare pussy. He lounges back in this seat as his eyes move down to rest between my legs. I gulp as I feel my pussy respond to the attention and quickly avert my eyes before it gets too involved. "Uh Mr. Perry?" asks Jon "I'm not sure I will have time to finish this sketch during the class, would it be all right if I...?" I hear his words but am no longer looking in his direction so miss his intention completely as he takes his phone out of his pocket and lifts it as he waits for a response. "Oh, why yes, well, this is, er, normal, to work from materials, I mean we can't expect to perfect everything immediately can we now? Not even our star pupil." as he smiles indulgently at Jon "Go on, my sweet Caravaggio...as you will! Perhaps you could share it with the WhatsApp group for the class? -- useful homework for the men who couldn't make it this evening...and the women of course" he adds with a chuckle. Wondering what they are referring to I turn my gaze back round at exactly the moment when Jon's camera phone clicks, thus presenting him with a full frontal -- of both my nakedness and my face. I gape in surprise and can hardly react before I see him quickly tap at his phone and suddenly the familiar WhatsApp chime emits from several phones in the room -- including the one still in my handbag. I bite my lip in fury and frustration, wanting to object but knowing there is little point now that the picture is out there never to be retrieved. I shudder, realising that any future visits to the pub after class will be with men who can dip into their pockets at any point and review my naked, exposed body at their will. The heated arguments will have an extra edge to them. Mind gnawing on this unexpected development I pay no attention as Mr. Perry glances at his phone. The picture has arrived along with a text. A second later his phone starts ringing. I jump as the sudden ringtone echoes off the bare walls of the art room. The instructor quickly lifts his mobile to his ear and talks into the line "What? Oh yes of course, well that is, er, yes, it is, I will come right away". Hanging up, he hurriedly makes a beeline for the door "Sorry class, slight emergency -- I need to step out for a moment -- back in 5 -- take a break -- have coffee!" he calls over his shoulder as he rushes out in a whirlwind of arms and legs. I blink at the sudden exit. A moment later I gasp as I realise he has left with the key that unlocks access to my clothes. I jump up, nude, forgetting myself, as I move to the door and peer out...but he is already gone. I look helplessly left and right along the deserted corridor before a sudden voice brings me back to reality: "Here you go Sarah, I got you a coffee..." says Jon smoothly as I turn back to him, taking it automatically and only then understanding that holding the cup prevents me covering myself with my hands. "She does a great job modelling, eh guys?" he grins as the other men happily gather around my naked frame leaving me no option but to stand and chat. The illusion of a professional, above-board model now destroyed as I must engage with these men I know, have sketched with, talked with, socialised with, drank with, debated with, and argued with. "Sure does!" enthuses Jason as he quickly, lightly slaps my naked ass -- the resulting sound adding to the general mirth. I'm about to complain as I would when clothed but it seems far more difficult to do so while nude. The shadow feeling of his bare hand on my bare ass is difficult to shake. My mind senses where he spanked me, the skin burning hot from shame rather than pain. I feel the small plastic cup of coffee shaking a little in my grip as my gaze moves back up to meet Jon's. "Look! Nice, eh?" He smiles as he lifts his phone, turning it as he does so, presenting me with the image he captured a few moments ago. I look at the smaller version of myself - nude, surprised, easily recognisable, captured forever, future viewers entirely under the men's control. "Yes" I hear someone answer. A beat passes before I recognise the voice as my own. Horrified as I realise my instinctive response has bypassed my brain. The answer catches them all by surprise and I see Jon's gaze move down to my breasts and, as it does so, I feel my small sensitive nipples harden dramatically. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second. My brain chewing on the situation, aware of all the men in the room, all the cocks in the room hanging or hardening between their legs. I can almost smell the masculinity and desire emanating from each male. I open my eyes as I feel a finger and thumb delicately gripping my left nipple. "You are not drinking your coffee." Jon states while he calmly holds my nipple, watching me, gauging my reaction. I stare back, lifting the trembling container to my drying lips as I try to keep control. I feel his grip tightening slightly as I do so, pulling a little, teasing. I swallow -- the liquid and my excitement -- as I part my legs slightly to balance myself. "She's loving it!" gloats Jason in amazement as the parting of my legs shows the clear glistening of my pussy. The undeniable bodily responses act as an invitation and he caresses my other breast as I squirm into, not away from, him. "Let's give her what she's missing at home." Jon nods to the surrounding men in a signal understood by all. A soft moan leaves my body as I feel the strong hands lifting my naked form. My body pliant as they lay me back on the table, ensuring my legs are fully spread, shaven, tight, married, wet pussy explicitly, obscenely, on display. No sooner am I positioned than I feel it. A thickness rubbing between my legs. A hardness probing urgently around my eager pussy lips. I grit my teeth at the sudden pressure there followed by a satisfying give, a shunt, and he is inside me. My back arches as my desperate pussy receives Jon's big thick cock. Much bigger than I am used to, the cock fills my pussy, presses against the sides in a deliciously satisfying way. His rapid thrusts pushing his shaft up and causing my clit to respond, tingling with the motion. I know he is bare, deliberately so, but I don't care. My arms extend to the sides, hands opening to welcome two further cocks. I grip their throbbing hardness tightly, steadying myself and exciting them. I can guess at least one owner of a cock now in my hand. I confirm my suspicions as I glance up, seeing Jason, looking down at where my small fingers hold his solid erection, playing with it, pulling at it. Never during all our conversations could he have dreamed that one day I would be naked in front of everyone giving him a hand job. I moan as I feel Jon's big cock moving inside me, pushing, throbbing urgently. I try not to think of it being him, him of all people, fucking me now, but I can't help my mind fixating on the idea -- the fact we have never gotten along is surprisingly exciting for me and I can feel my orgasm hinting at its approach. An echo seems to fill the room before I realise the repeated moan is not mine but his. Instinctively my hands tighten around the cocks they hold, my fingers feel the tension there, the urgency...my eyes widen as I feel them both release within seconds of each other. The grunts of the men and the thrust of their members alerting me to the orgasms a second before I feel their cum splatter warmly against my naked body. "Oh fuck" gasps Jon as the sight of me being covered in their seed is the final straw. He thrusts hard into me, pressing his big cock fully into my married pussy as he starts to shudder. The sensation of his cock beginning to unload inside me triggers my own orgasm and it thunders through my body in sympathy, crashing in waves, obliterating all thought and action as its pleasure fills me completely. When, a few moments later, I am recovered enough to open my eyes, I watch Jon as he gently pulls his shrinking penis from me. Expecting an expression of gloating triumph, I am surprised to see a relief, almost a gentleness there, a gratefulness for the pleasure shared. He exhales, placing his cock back in his clothing and suddenly leaves the room for a second, returning a moment later he hands me the locker key without a word. I slip unsteadily off the table and rush to get dressed, glancing at the clock, I notice the time and jump into action. The class is due to finish in one minute and my husband promised to come and meet me for a drink after class. I only just manage to get my clothing on -- sticking slightly against parts of my body before the door opens and Keith walks in. "Hey honey, had a good class?" asks my husband as he glances around, sensing some tension in the air "Ready for a drink?" he asks. "Why don't we all go and get one?" Smiles Jon, shaking hands with him "We can tell you all about it!". ************------------************ Mr Perry sits back in his chair at home and opens the envelope. He smiles as he flicks through the sheaf of banknotes. "Not bad for a day's work." He thinks as he sets it aside, recalling the events in the pub last week after I had left; Jon devising the plan and encouraging the other men to go along with it. Truth be told, he would have happily done it for nothing but there was some work involved after all. He had had to let the model know she was no longer needed, prepare the box and slips of paper, send out an e-mail to the other female members of the class telling them the class had been cancelled, and a further mail to all the less regular male class members letting them know of the special fun to be had this week and so not to miss it!...Not to mention acting innocent as he declared the 'winner' - fully aware that every slip of paper had 'Sarah' written upon it. He stretches as a soft chuckle emits from his lips. He remembers the private text he had received from Jon along with the picture during class "gr8 work Mike, ur quite the actor, we have left ur money in the first locker in the hall, leave the key there when you go, will ring u now" and then the moment later when Jon dialled his number and quickly slipped his own phone back into his jacket leaving Mr Perry to talk into the empty line as me made his excuses and left. "God, I loved taking that snooty bitch down a peg or two." He laughs to the empty room, lifting his whisky and taking a satisfied sip as his mind recalls the sight of my naked body, the pert breasts and shaven, vulnerable, tight pussy. "Which reminds me!" He exclaims, taking out his phone and pulling up my naked picture. Taking his time, he undoes himself and pulls out his thick cock, already hard at the explicit photograph before him, as he begins to stroke. "Ah, it's a hard life being an artist."

“Rise and shine, slave.”   Katara’s slow, unsteady return to consciousness was abruptly hastened by the feeling of the golden collar around her neck digging in tight, roughly pulling her up and to her knees.  Sputtering, it took her a moment to focus before she realized that Azula was before her, and unlike yesterday seemed to have no interest in giving her time to prepare.   Instead of being either fully clothed or naked, this time the Firelord wore a slimming corset in bright red leather that emphasized her modest curves, along with silken stockings that went up to her thigh and matching leather gloves that stopped at her shoulder.  Her cunt was fully exposed, and it took a moment for Katara to realize she’d been staring before turning away, her shame at having given in so easily yet again last night filling her less with anger at her captor and more at her own weakness.    She’d had a private interest in women that she’d known of for a few years, but this particular woman, and in this situation?  That was madness she didn’t dare entertain if she could help it.   But then she thought, noticing the glittering gem of her mother’s betrothal necklace already on Azula’s neck, for now she didn’t have much say in the matter.  Patience offered little comfort, but she could hardly afford to be picky.   With every day the full moon came closer, and the chance for her freedom with it.   “On your knees,” Azula finally declared, and compelled by her subconscious programming, Katara immediately complied.  “I have something special in mind for you today.”   At first, Katara could hardly imagine what would qualify as ‘special’ given what she’d already endured at the Firelord’s hands, but when Azula turned to face her, she held only a simple red sash, doubled over into a bandanna that she held between her, as if to give it a significance to her prisoner that was lost on Katara until Azula simply placed it over her eyes and fastened a knot securely behind her head.   Katara could now see nothing—blackness with the slightest crimson tint—and being robbed of one of her senses gave her a renewed feeling of anxiety.  She hadn’t realized until this exact moment how much at least a vague idea of what was coming from her captor had given her even a small bit of twisted comfort.  Any sort of knowledge was better than absolutely nothing.   “Plant your face on the floor and stick your ass up for me.  Hands behind your back, slave.”   Katara felt herself gasp as her cheek abruptly smacked against the cold tile, the odd feeling of being completely helpless to control her own body magnified as it simply did as Azula commanded.  A cruel, satisfied ‘hmph’ from off to her left indicated that the Firelord had confirmed what Katara herself had surmised: the programming Azula had imprinted that caused Katara’s movements to conform to her will didn’t require her to have constant visual awareness of the betrothal necklace to function.  Seeing it on Azula was the only trigger the conditioning had needed to kick in.   She isn’t prepared at all when there’s the slightest, gentlest touch of leather-clad fingers along the inside of her knee trailing ever-so-slowly up her thigh, and the way her body tenses in anticipation elicits the slightest smug chuckle from Azula, leaving Katara to grimace shamefully into the floor.    She’s even less prepared for the firm open-palmed slap on her left butt cheek that makes a loud crack in the air, knocking the wind out of her from shock so fast she doesn’t even have the chance to shout out in pain.  But just as the pain had begun to settle in, a pair of Azula’s fingers were teasing between her legs, and unable to control herself Katara let out a little mewl of pleasure.   There was hardly a pause as Azula smacked her ass again—this time on the right side—before stroking her fingers along Katara’s clit again, and the Water Tribe girl felt herself respond positively to the motion.    “How does it feel, slave?”   Katara bit her lip as Azula hit her rear again, horrified to realize that while it hurt just as much as before, there was something else mixed in with the pain… a sensation she tried to fight off even as it redoubled from the feeling of smooth leather on her nerve center once more.   “Answer me.”   She had to obey, Katara grimly realized.   Her conditioning wouldn’t allow her any other option, no matter how badly she wanted to hold her tongue.   “G-good…”  She managed just as Azula spanked her twice on each side of her ass, making Katara jerk her hips up as her voice died in a high-pitched yelp, leaving her so disoriented she couldn’t hold back the deep moan that tumbled out of her as Azula’s hand cupped her pussy, firm and possessive but steady.    “Hmm.  Good girl,” Azula praised her mockingly, and as she spoke again Katara felt that same hand pull away from her (she couldn’t help jerking her hips back, almost instinctively chasing that touch) before it smacked with an audible clap right between her legs, directly on her swollen clit.  “I’m glad to see you being so honest.”   Katara felt her eyes bulge behind the blindfold, her body going rigid before collapsing onto the floor in violent shuddering, her lungs filled with a deafening gasp that never quite left her mouth.  She could feel herself nearly go right over the peak of orgasm, held back only by the virtue of her conditioning, and the sensation was utterly maddening.  She could feel herself twitching, soaking the ground, but the distinctive feeling of release was simply… not there.  Somehow, this was even worse than being made to come at Azula’s command, and in the face of such a distressing state her gradually crumbling resistance and defiance quickly faltered.   “P-please Master, let your Slave come,” Katara muttered, body shuddering and squirming even as she raised her ass once again, nearly automatically.   “Such a good, good girl you’re becoming,” Azula replied, clearly pleased with Katara’s ‘progress.’  “But you’re going to have to be patient a bit longer, Slave.  Now don’t move.”   Without another word from Azula, Katara dimly heard her rise to her feet and walk off to some other part of the room, feeling her back begin to ache the longer she stayed in place until there was the patter of Azula returning to being behind her, followed by the slow but unmistakable squelching of liquid, the friction of a hand moving rather deliberately up and down.  Moments later Katara gasped as she felt something cold and oily sliding down the crack of her butt, yelping as Azula’s fingers slowly began to tease around the rim of her asshole.    Katara squirmed instinctively at first, snapped out of her lustful stupor by the boldness of Azula’s actions and the decidedly foreign sensation of having her ass played with, but as the Firelord continued—her pace steady and deliberate, almost considerate even—she gradually felt herself relax bit by bit, the tension and reflexive fear melting away, replaced by a dull sort of arousal that tickled somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach.  Even as Azula pressed a single finger into her sphincter, then a second, before spreading and scissoring them inside her at that same maddening pace, Katara felt a low moan rumbling in her throat, breathing even but shallow as she felt herself begin to dampen the floor anew.    “That’s right.  Just relax, Slave.  I’d like this to go as smoothly as possible.”   “Wh… wha…?”   Azula said nothing, but somehow even with her vision obscured, Katara could almost feel the smirk she was certain the Firelord was making.  After a moment, she stopped and withdrew her fingers, but just as Katara was starting to almost miss the oddly arousing pressure, she felt something hard, cool and slickened with oil press against her now-stretched anus, Azula’s long fingernails digging into her hips as her hands settled on either side of her waist.  Somehow, Katara felt a strange sort of anticipation well up inside her, amplified by her blindfold and the almost possessive way Azula was holding her in place.    “Now… would you care to repeat your request from earlier, Slave?”  Azula asked, the smugness palpable in her voice.  As she did so she shifted forward ever so slightly, the cold smooth object she was pressing against Katara’s sphincter sliding in just a bit with her motion, and she knew almost immediately what was going to happen at the Firelord’s slightest whim or movement.  “If you do a good job, I just might reward you.”   Katara was silent for a long, long moment, before she finally spoke, quiet but certain.   “Please Master… let your Slave come.”   And with that, Azula grunted as she thrust forward, and another glass phallus—much like the one from yesterday, Katara realized, but textured and ribbed instead of smooth—slid deep inside Katara’s ass, only stopping once Azula’s hips met her own buttocks with a powerful clap of skin against skin.    “Come, Slave.”   Katara had been mid-gasp, just barely starting to process how Azula was fucking her, when the order hit her and she simply came undone, practically howling with a bit of pain, but far more pleasure than she’d anticipated—and combined with the climax she’d been denied before, she was far from capable of downplaying the intensity of her honest physical reaction.  She was profoundly aware of how hard she was coming, leaking all over the floor as she trembled violently, her tongue lolling as she struggled feebly to calm herself.   For the longest time, Azula simply stayed where she was, hilted inside her, almost as if she was giving her time to adjust to the sensation of being penetrated like this.  But soon enough Katara felt her pull back, the phallus inside her drawing out until only the head remained within (the feeling of Azula withdrawing was nearly as overwhelming, and she may very well have come even without being ordered to) before she thrust in again.   “Come, Slave.”   Katara came hard again, audibly squirting on the floor, her toes curling as she arched her back, her moaning more guttural and deep than before.  She heard Azula chuckle darkly behind her before there was a sharp pressure against the back of her scalp, and through the sudden added rush of intense sensation realized that Azula was pulling her braid, forcing her to bend back until she held her firmly in place, spine aching from being forced into such an awkward position.    And yet somehow for Katara, as Azula began to set her pace and firmly, steadily began to properly fuck her, this didn’t feel humiliating or shameful.   It felt… amazing.   To be certain, the humiliation and shame were there, but rather than overwhelm the maelstrom of reactions and sensations Katara was losing herself in, they complemented the raw pleasure, along with the physical pain as well.  All she had to do was… simply do as she was told, and come when she was ordered, and it was almost enough to make her forget that this was a punishment of sorts; that even slightly indulging this was practically a betrayal of everything she had believed in and fought for up to now.   Her thoughts were interrupted by Azula’s signature cruel laughter, and the sweet added sensation of the Firelord’s fingers messily playing with her sopping wet cunt, juices flowing freely over those slender digits. “You really are born for this, my little Water Tribe whore.  Even the best of my little pets didn’t enjoy getting fucked in the ass the first time this much.  You’re just loving this, aren’t you?”   “Y-yes, Master,” Katara stammered through Azula’s now-brutal pace, surprising herself with the immediacy of her response.  “It… It feels so good…”   “I’m sorry, it’s simply too funny to me,” Azula mocked, pulling Katara’s braid just a bit harder, eliciting a squealing, strangled yelp of arousal as she brought her free hand up to lock her fingers into Katara’s mouth, clawed fingers stroking her extended tongue, giving her the slightest taste of her own liquids.  “Such a strong, prideful Bender like yourself—I hate to say it, possibly even a match for me in a fight—and yet here you are, coming yourself silly like the masochist slut you really are.  Don’t you agree?”   Maybe the arousal was simply too much for her to focus, or some hint of her old pride had resurfaced at the slight, but Katara said nothing aside from her own moans and whimpers of pleasure, at least until Azula clutched her firmly by the jaw and craned her head back so their faces were mere inches apart, the heat from Azula’s own face apparent to Katara even through her blindfold.   “Answer me properly, or I’ll stop.”   Katara hated the idea of giving Azula the satisfaction of her admission, but there really was no choice; the conditioning thanks to the trigger of her mother’s necklace was going to force her to speak the truth anyway, and somehow that gave her an odd sense of comfort even in as depraved a situation as this.   This wasn’t her.  Not really.  This conditioning was forcing her to behave this way, and all she had to do was endure just a little longer.  Even if all this was starting to make her realize things about herself that she’d never have admitted to with anyone, things she hated and was ashamed of, soon she’d be free and all this would be a bad memory.    What was the harm, then, in giving Azula what she wanted, so she could indulge herself just a little bit and pass it off as being out of her control?   “Y-yes.  You’re right… Master, you… you fucking my ass feels so fucking incredib--!”   Suddenly Azula returned to railing her, even faster than before, and combined with three fingers hammering away inside her cunt, Katara felt herself go from simply passively accepting Azula’s ministrations to actively meeting them.  Giving into the situation, Katara began to bounce back against Azula’s pelvis, resting her weight on one arm so she had a hand free to play with her own clitoris while Azula continued to finger her.    Steadily, Azula ordered her to come, nearly once for every time she bottomed out inside her rear, until finally she simply collapsed on the now soaking wet floor, completely spent.  As Katara panted weakly, her eyes rolling back in her head behind the scarlet blinder, she felt Azula finally pull out of her with a slick pop, punctuating her dominance over the utterly exhausted Katara with a final smack on her abused ass.  There was a commotion as Azula shuffled around the room—no doubt collecting her clothing—before she felt the Firelord’s presence close to her once more, and the slight tug and loosening of the sash around her face indicating that Azula was finally taking it off.  Katara blinked hard as light flooded her senses for the first time in what felt like hours, and as her sight came back into focus Azula was looming over her, her face inscrutable as her clawed fingers brushed along her jaw in a gesture she might have even considered affectionate if she didn’t know far better. “Good girl,” Azula leered, and Katara felt almost ashamed at the spike of lust that pooled weakly between her legs at those words.  She felt like she could drift off for hours, days even, right then and there, but then she realized something rather peculiar the longer she looked up at Azula.   Or rather, it was the absence of something that brought back a touch of lucidity.   “Wh… where’s the necklace?”    “Hmm?  What’s that, Slave?”   “My… mnh…” Katara struggled to sit up, her exhausted body barely cooperating, fingers struggling to find purchase on the slickened floor, before ultimately giving up and laying back down, gazing up at the kneeling Azula.  “My mother’s… necklace.  The one… you’ve been using on me…”   “Ohhh, you mean this?” Azula inquired with mock astonishment as she produced it in her hand from behind her back.  “Hmm.  I suppose it must have come off at some point, silly me.”   Katara blinked, and too worn out to put much effort into disguising her reactions, the look of slow, absolute horror that crept over her face seemed to bring a warped smile to Azula’s own.   “Wh… What do you mean?  Haven’t you been wearing it this whole time?”   There was a desperation in her voice now that Azula appeared to be doing her absolute best to not gloat over too obviously. “Well, it’s hard to say, isn’t it, Slave?  I definitely had it on when we started, but… well, you were so… ‘enthusiastic’ that I simply can’t remember.  Best not to dwell on it too much, hmm?”   A stunned silence hung in the room, and after Azula gave Katara a moment to absorb the weight of her implication, she simply moved to the door.   “Sleep well Slave,” Azula called mockingly as she exited, and once the door had shut Katara felt her hand slip over her mouth, her breathing quicken as she be began to panic.   She was absolutely certain that Azula had made her mother’s betrothal necklace her conditioning trigger.  There was no doubt at all about that.  And she was equally certain there was no way it could have simply fallen off.  Which left only a pair of questions that for the first time in this ordeal left her shaken to the core.   How much of this—her reactions, her behavior—had been the conditioning?    And how much of it had been her?

Alessandra sat behind the moderate sized desk reading through correspondences that Winky had placed on her desk that very morning. Things were finally getting into some semblance of order since she and her counterpart Mercy had been hired on as personal assistants to Lord Black-Potter. Mercy was far busier than she at the moment with dealing with the mess that was Lord Black-Potter fan-base. Mercy was working diligently with the Potter-Black legal counsel on the illegal use of the Potter name for products that were sold since the first war ended. Alexandra however was his personal assistant for his business dealings as well as the foundation that he was trying to get off the ground. At some point in the future she knew she would have contact with his legal team as well as the people working for the foundation. Draco entered the office with his usual flare. His hair was hanging loose around his face. He had grown out of slicking his hair back from his face. It had grown significantly over the last two years. He had arrived at Devonsgale Hall only to find out Potter had relocated his office. He had been by on multiple occasions to speak with him however, he was always out. He had just exited the floo network into the main sitting room as Alessandra was exiting the kitchen area with a steaming mug in her hand. She observed him as he took in the room. Although his expression remained blank she knew he was curious as to what her boss was up too. “Good morning Sir how can I be of assistance this morning,” Ambrose greeted him as he neared the welcome desk. “Draconius Malfoy to see Lord Black-Potter,” He informed the witch with an heir of arrogance. “I’m sorry Mister Malfoy; Lord Black-Potter will be out of the office today,” Ambrose informed him. “What do you mean he’s out of the office? Didn’t that Marcy or Mary or whatever her name is tell him I needed to speak with him,” Draco questioned annoyed at Potter’s blatant disrespect. “I cannot say Mister Malfoy as I wasn’t the person you spoke with. Now would you like to schedule an appointment to speak with Lord Black-Potter?” Alessandra held back the giggle wanting to escape. Mercy had ranted for thirty minutes after his first impromptu visit to speak with their boss. He was just as arrogant as he is being now. Mercy had taken great pleasure in telling him that Lord Black-Potter didn’t have a clear appointment until for another three weeks. Of course it wasn’t a lie at the time but the repairs at Hogwarts had been completed faster than he’d anticipated. The war hadn’t mellowed him out any. It was quite amusing to see the blonde wizard storm back to the fireplace flooing out without setting an appointment. She guessed, for Draconius Malfoy, he wasn’t used to being told no. “What’s his issue?” Ambrose asked noticing her standing there. “I’m guessing the pampered Prince isn’t use to be denied what he wants,” Alessandra chortled causing Ambrose to fall into a fit of giggles. “Should I schedule him an appointment?” Ambrose questioned. “There really isn’t a need I’m sure he will be back again tomorrow,” Alessandra assured her before heading towards her office to get some work done. The outcome of Lord Black-Potter’s meeting today will determine how they would be handling his business interest. ________________________________ The Wizarding Nations Building was fairly empty when he arrived by floo except for the lone security person sitting at the desk to check the wands of visiting witches and wizards entering the building. “Welcome to the Wizarding Nations Building. All visitors are required to have their wands checked,” the guard informed him. Harry handed over his wand without question. The guard placed his wand in a square magical device. Moments later a slip of paper appeared with his wands’ information. (Holly with Phoenix core in use since 1991 bonded to Hadarian Potter-Black) “What is your business here today Lord Potter-Black?” the security wizard questioned as he handed Harry back his wand. “I’m here for Britain’s Wizengamot Session?” Harry replied slipping his wand back into its holder on his arm. The British Wizengamot has been assigned to Meeting Chamber 10 located on level four,” the guard said directing him towards the correct lift. “Thank you,” Harry replied quickly walking in the direction of the lift. The lift opened when he reached it the door closing as soon as he entered. “Welcome to the Wizarding Nations Building press your destination please.” Harry was startled by the voice before snorting in amusement as he touched the four key on the key panel on the wall of the lift. It was much like its muggle counterpart. It had taken them weeks to get the necessary information on the separation of magic between beings and magical humans. Harry had tried requesting the creature restrictions and classification laws several times without success. He was being blocked at every turn. However, he had been determined and with the help of his personal assistants Alessandra and Mercy, he got all the information he needed before they would be able to approach the Magic Council. He had nearly given up. It was Alessandra that suggested they seek out the Goblins. In that moment Harry could have kissed her. Chief of the Goblin relations was very reluctant to allow him and his assistants, access to the information until Harry thoroughly explained what access to the information could mean to the magical community and its importance to wizarding law. The goblins; May the Goddess show them favor, were more than helpful. Their archives were even more extensive than the Ministry’s and Harry was able to get around all the red tape that the Ministry Department was trying to force him to go through. He wasn’t surprised at the skepticism received by the goblins. History of Goblin Wars proved the relationship between magical beings and magical humans was a long fought battle. A battle, that Harry was hoping to end, if they were able to get an invitation to the Magic Council in the Outer Realm. Now all they needed was for the Wizengamot to vote in favor of the new magical covenant. The restructuring of the laws would take some time but Harry was sure they would be able to find common grounds with the other magical beings of the magical world. It was time the world of magic reunited as the Goddess meant for it to be. “Level four,” the ethereal voice announced a few moments later before the door to the lift opened. Quickly exiting the lift Harry walked through the small waiting areas towards the main hall. “Harry,” Kingsley called spotting the younger wizard. Harry turned spotting Kingsley he headed towards the older man. “Good you’re here early, I can go over a few things with you before things get started”, Kingsley stated. “Sure,” Harry readily agreed following the older man. Andromeda and Kingsley had prepared him as much as they could for today and he hoped that he was able to keep a level head with dealing with not only the strictly light families as well as the supremist dark families. Harry sighed running his hands along the deep burgundy dress robes that he was currently wearing with black tailored slacks and black silk dress shirt under it. Today his hair was pulled back with a leather strap and his wand was in an invisible holder on his right arm. “I know that you’re nervous Harry but you’re going to be fine,” Kingsley assured him. Harry looked at him in astonishment, “I honestly feel a bit nauseated,” he sighed, “my stomach is total knotted up. Why did I let you and Dromie talk me into this?” “You were born to do this,” Kingsley kindly reminded him, “it’s in your blood and don’t let anyone in there tell you that you don’t belong.” Harry sighed, he really truly didn’t want any of this but he knew that he would never deny his heritage. “You’ve researched this issue and with the help of the order you have the information you need to argue and win,” Kingsley assured him with a smile, “do not doubt yourself and have confidence in the research and work you’ve put into this. I owe your girls a gourmet meal for their efforts.” “I’m sure Alessandra and Mercy will hold you to that,” Harry chortled thinking about his personal assistants. He had been skeptical about the two women at first but neither seemed to think him any different from any other wizard. He was just their boss and that was it. he hoped one day that he could consider both young women his friends. “I will put forth the motion to repeal and review for the creature laws and classifications after you have gotten the Magical covenant to a vote. This will pave the way for the laws to be reviewed and repealed,” Kingsley informed him, “Lord Prince will put the motion in for Hogwarts.” Blowing out a breath Harry sighed he wished the queasy feeling would pass. Deciding to read over the information he was presenting while he waited for the meeting to begin. Nodding his head in understanding, he wondered if Snape was nervous at all about this mission of subterfuge. He was sure the Wizengamot would be outraged if they were aware that Kingsley sought the help of what many considered a vigilante group to investigate and research what he needed to get the magical world where it was meant to be. “In a few minutes I will lead you into the small anti chamber in the meeting hall. Try to relax yeah” Kingsley said before leaving the room. Harry looked skeptical at the advice. He wished he had forgone breakfast that morning. His stomach was completely knotted with anxiety. He never felt this nervous or unsure before not even when he faced his imminent death he didn’t have this fear. He probably should have taken a calming draft before he arrived. As promised a few minutes later Kingsley returned leading him into the small anti chamber. Severus was surprised when it was revealed to him that Potter had ended his friendship with the other two-thirds of what Hogwarts deemed the golden trio. Hermione was still dealing with the loss of her friends; she had tried to keep her melancholic episodes from him. However, on more than one occasion he had came upon her curled into herself as silent tears streamed down her face. A part of him ached for her; he understood how, our decisions could have an unexpected impact. He learned that very hard lesson at sixteen years old. Lily had forgiven him for uttering the cruel words yet she had ended their friendship. The same as Potter, he hated to think that he was the cause of her losing her friends. Yet she had assured him, through her tears that the fault was her own. The promises she made and failed to keep had ruined the friendship she had with Lord Black-Potter, a friendship he believed that she regretted losing. Greg acknowledged his entrance by a slight bow of his head. Harry nodded in kind. Harry noticed he had lost a lot of weight since the war but he still looked healthy but had a deep sadness around him. Harry thought it was partly due to losing his father and seeing his best friend die as a result of his own spell. Snape’s brow rose at Goyle’s subtle greeting towards Potter. He wondered what led to the respect that his former Slytherin student was showing the former Gryffindor. He was proud however, to see that many of his students had survived the war intact. Pansy Parkinson was sitting engaged in a conversation with Nott and they had yet to notice his entrance. “Lord Black-Potter,” Neville greeted him as he entered the room. His grandmother Augusta sitting in a comfortable arm chair looking over the young ones who are going to take their place among people far older than them. “Lord Longbottom, it’s great to see you again,” Harry replied in kind shaking his hand. Neville was dressed in khaki colored slacks with a matching dress shirt and elegant deep forest green robes that flowed around his form. “Dowager Longbottom,” Harry greeted kissing the older woman’s hand before releasing it. “Lord Black-Potter, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Neville speaks of you often,” Augusta Longbottom replied. Harry was surprised to see several of his now former school mates. “Kingsley didn’t mention anyone else taking their family seats today.” “Are you ready for this?” Neville asked quietly not wanting to draw attention to them. “Honestly no, but what choice do I have Kingsley is depending on us to push this stuff through to better our world,” Harry replied noticing they had eyes on them. “Have you told your grandmother anything?” Harry asked, wondering if the older woman would agree with what they were trying to do. “No, I thought it best if she had deniability you know,” said Neville sheepishly. “Good thinking,” Harry said with a mischievous smile. Augusta sat observing her grandson with the wizarding world’s hero. The pair had developed a very close friendship, much like the friendship her Frank had with Gideon and Fabian Prewett before the war had decimated entire family lines. Although both were young in age, they had a maturity about them that spoke of the impact the war had on them. The ugly battles of war leaves a person changed in ways they would have never thought possible. _________________________   (Chamber outside of Meeting Chamber Ten) Kingsley entered the meeting room taking his place among the members of the Wizengamot waiting for the new members to enter to take their place among them. Dimitri Flint had been appointed interim Chief Warlock until a proper election would be conducted. There had been many speculations about the man’s ties with Voldemort however none of rumors were founded. Being born to a family with a dark inclination for magic did not make one a death eater. As Kingsley took his seat waiting for the others to be seated Dimitri stood quietly waiting to make the opening call for the meeting. “The 35th Session of the 505th year of the Wizengamot on this 28th day of October in the year of 1998 is now in session. Is there any new order of business?” Dimitri questioned. “This governing body recognizes Minister Shacklebolt,” Lord Higgs announced from where he was sitting. “There are several requests to claim inherited seats on this governing body,” Kingsley in formed them before retaking his seat. “Very well, step forth;” Flint ordered, wondering who could be claiming seats on the first meeting since the war. Lucius Malfoy found he was curious as well to find out who could be joining their mix. The families who are considered pureblood supremist were in the majority over the light families and Lucius hoped that didn’t change any time soon. He feared what kinds of damage the blood traitors and muggle lovers would do to the magical world. Lucius took pride in with his vote counting for not only the Malfoy seat but the Lestrange and Black seats as well. “I Severus Dominic Snape-Prince, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Prince, here by claim my rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October in the year of nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.” “This governing body recognizes your claim Lord Prince please take your place,” Flint replied. Muttering was heard from the light families that the murderer of the Albus Dumbledore would be able to take his inherited seat on the governing body. Lucius held in his shock at seeing Severus. He hadn’t seen the man since he heard the man had survived the war. Severus had avoided contact with any known deatheater families not that he blamed the man. Severus however surprised him further when he took the empty seat beside him; acknowledging him with a simple nod of his head but nothing more. Snape ignored the mutterings of those loyal supporters of Dumbledore even after the man had been dead two years passed. Theodore let out the breath he had been holding before stepping into the room. “I, Theodore Delanius Nott, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Nott” here by claim my rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October in the year of nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.” “This governing body recognizes Lord Nott”, Dimitri replied and recognizes your claim please be seated. Theo could hear muttering coming from what he thought to be older witches and wizards. He wasn’t sure if it was to do with his age or because his father is a convicted deatheater. Theo walked towards the seating area not really sure where to sit. Lucius watched Theo with an appraised look wondering which side this young man would choose to vote with. Lucius was well aware that the young man escaped the Dark Lord’s ranks; however, he was from a pureblood traditionalist family. Theo took a seat in the middle where mostly families who were more gray than dark sat. Lucius wasn’t too worried about that, however, he was sure the young man would see to vote with their side of things. Greg found himself nervous. He never was truly good with speaking before a crowd; releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “here goes nothing he muttered to himself before walking from the small chamber. “I, Gregory Maximus Goyle, Lord of the Most Valliant House of Goyle, here by claim by rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.” “This governing body recognizes your claim Lord Goyle please take your place,” Flint replied. More muttering was heard, as Greg took the seat beside Theo. Interesting Lucius thought watching the pair with an inquisitive gaze. Pansy sighed she truly didn’t want to sit on the Wizengamot she didn’t have any desire to vote on any changes in the government but she was the only direct member of the family now. With her father kissed, her mother killed during the war and her brother dead she had very little choice in the matter. With a sigh Pansy entered the meeting room. “I Pansy Lorelei Parkinson, Lady of the Ancient and Noble House of Parkinson here by claim by rightful seat on this governing body on this 28th day of October in the year of nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.” “This governing body recognizes your claim Lady Parkinson please take your place,” Flint replied. More muttering was heard, as Pansy took the seat between her two former class mates. There was definite unrest among the members now. Lucius couldn’t hold in his smirk. The light would have a time getting any bills passed now that the dark families truly had the majority vote. It was a good day indeed. Mean while in the anti room Harry paced the floor out of nervousness. “Calm down Harry you’ll do fine,” said Neville holding his dear friend hand briefly before walking out leaving him alone in the room. Harry nodded his head yet he couldn’t help but feel nervous his stomach felt as it were filled with worms. Augusta followed her grandson into the meeting room giving her unyielding support. Neville walked in the room nervous his grandmother standing beside him with an encouraging smile. “I, Neville Lysander Longbottom Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House Longbottom, on this 28th day of October nineteen hundred and ninety-eight hereby claim my rightful seat on this governing body. I also claim the inherited seats of Crouch through blood right and Lestrange right of conquest.” The muttering rose to high levels. “Preposterous,” An old man who Neville didn’t recognize, but his grandmother however did. “Lord Higgs I would advise you to hold your tongue,” Augusta Longbottom stated, coming to stand beside her grandson. “Surely you aren’t relinquishing your seat to your grandson,” another asked. “The Longbottom seat is my grandson’s birth right” Augusta stated simply. “I however will still be apart of this body make no mistakes about that. I will just be controlling the Lestrange vote.” Lucius sat his face calculating. “I’m sure there is proof of this claim” Lucius Malfoy questioned his voice drawled out. “Of course,” Neville stated handing the papers over to the Chief Warlock. “Is this your wish Lord Crouch Longbottom,” Chief Warlock Flint questioned. “Yes, I do request my grandmother Dowager Longbottom to sit as head for the Lestrange vote,” Neville Confirmed. Flint looked over the documents. He knew about the damage the Lestrange family had done to the Longbottom heir and he was granted not only their inherited seats but their estates and vaults in reparation. The Crouch seat however surprised him, but He was the most directly link descendant to that particular line of the Black family. Dimitri Flint handed the documents back to Neville. “Everything is order Lord Longbottom this governing body recognizes your claims please take your place.” Neville followed his grandmother to where Lady Marchbanks was sitting. Are their anymore request for claiming of seats? Flint questioned. “Are there any other’s?” Lord Flint asked Harry stepped before them. “I, Hadarian James Orion Pyrite-Peverell-Black-Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Black, Pyrite and Peverell on this 28th day of October nineteen hundred and ninety-eight do here by claim the seat of Potter, Black, Peverell and Pyrite by birthright on this governing body. “The floor recognizes Lord Pyrite-Peverell-Black-Potter,” Flint stated shocked. There was an immediate uproar. Lucius paled, those two brats had just pushed the votes into their favor. The light side now had the majority vote. “I questioned the legality of seats Black, Peverell and Pyrites,” Lucius stated waiting to see how the brat would get out of showing the necessary documents. “Do you have proof to support your claim Lord Potter-Black?” Flint questioned. Harry handed over a blue file filled with documents. He paused at seeing that Potter was in fact a pureblood. Interesting Higgs thought to himself. Flint looked over the remaining documents. “It says here Lord Potter-Black that you are the direct descendant of the youngest Peverell brother. Therefore you are entitled to the seat. The Black seat you are also entitled too because you are a Black by blood. I’m aware that you are related to the Blacks distantly however you would not be entitled to the seat because the most direct blood would be Lord Malfoy’s son through his mother Flint stated simply reading further through the documents. Lucius smirked so the brat can’t claim the Black seat after all he thought holding back a cackle of glee. “If you read further I’m sure you will see that I’m not only entitled by will but also by blood…” Harry assured him. “Indeed,” Flint stated after viewing an updated birth certificate that proved his blood line. “Lord Potter-Black is by birthright entitled to the seat of Black due to blood adoption by way of the congnationen hereditatem potion since July of 1981.” “He is also entitled to the Pyrite family through the direct line though Lady Phoenix Cassiopeia Potter ne Pyrite-Black-Evans and Peverell through his father James Potter,” Dimitri Flint’s voice rang out in the chamber. Flint returned the documents to Harry. “This governing body recognizes your claims Lord Potter-Black please take your place.” Harry walked over taking the empty seat beside Neville. Harry looked at Lucius Malfoy with an innocent smile on his face before heading towards Neville and his Grandmother. This would be interesting,” thought Harry. He felt light at having gotten one up on Lucius Malfoy. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling inside. “Next order of business,” Flint stated once Harry was seated. “The floor recognizes Lord Higgs.” “The Department of Child Welfare as put forth a proposal, for a protective ordinance for magical children. This ordinance will provide protection for magical and non-magical children born into all magic wizarding families to prevent abuse and placement within proper wizarding families.” It reads as thus: This Law concerns the welfare of underage witches and wizards who are orphaned or in abusive homes or non-magical children who are born into magical families. 1. Any magical child suspected of being abused must be removed from the family until an investigation can be conducted. Should the allegations be proven false the child will be returned to their home until they are of age. Should the allegations be proven true the child is to be placed into magically run orphanage or foster care provided with another wizarding family. 2. Any non-magical child born into a magical family must remain within the magical world. They can be placed in foster care with a squib family who will care for them or be placed in an orphanage within the magical world. 3. All magical children currently living in muggle ran orphanages are to be removed and relocated into a magically run facility. All magical children who are born to non-magical parents in the muggle world should be monitored to ensure their well being. If it is deemed the child is in danger of abuse the child should be removed from the home and placed in a magically run facility. Lucius frowned; squibs being born into magical families were viewed negatively. Parents often abandon those children some had even killed the child to prevent their family being shamed. “I will back this proposal Harry said in a calm voice that could be heard clearly throughout the chamber. I Second Neville replied. I third his grandmother stated wondering what her grandson and Lord Potter-Black were up too. I fourth that Proposal Kingsley stated before retaking his seat. “What do you suppose the wizarding world do with squibs that are born? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to put them with muggles who are more like them,” Theo questioned. “I agree with Lord Nott,” Lucius stated, “it would be far kinder to place squibs into the muggle world where they will be with non-magic users.” “I disagree,” Harry replied. “Although squibs do not have active magic they do not belong in the muggle world. They are from magic and capable of producing magical children even though they don’t have magic themselves.” “Placing squibs into the muggle world not only opens the opportunity for magical children to be produced with muggles which opens the door for a magical child to be abused and the potential breach in the statute of secrecy,” Harry continued. “That leads me to wonder if supposedly muggle born wizards and witches aren’t simply the by product of squibs producing magical children.” “That’s preposterous!” Lord Higgs voice could be heard throughout the chamber. “It isn’t really,” Harry replied, “My mother is living proof that two non-magical children born in pureblood families can produce a magical child. My maternal grandfather Marius Black was the squib brother of Dorea Black who was abandoned in the muggle world for being a squib and Ortilya Pyrite also a squib born into the Pyrite family.” “What do you suggest be done Lord Potter-Black,” Flint questioned curious as to what the wizarding world’s savior would have to say. “I suggest that we fix the mistakes that we in the magical community have yet to correct. Magical children do not belong in the muggle world. They are misunderstood, mistreated and often abused by those responsible for their care. Allow families who have lost their heirs and are not capable to producing another heir to blood adopt these children making them theirs by blood rite.” “All magical children should be removed from the muggle world that are in orphanages and allow families who are without heirs to magically adopt them. There were a lot of families lost during the war on both sides. I don’t think that the magical community can afford to allow family lines to end no matter which side of the war the families were on. If that isn’t possible I have another solution,” Harry continued “Are you suggesting that we allow death-eaters to adopt these children.” A woman snarled. “Madame I must warn you about placing your thoughts or words into my mouth. What you may not have contemplated is that many who joined Voldemort’s cause were not aware of the deeds they would be force to commit. ” “I’m in no way absolving their crimes. What I can do is understand that sometimes we make bad choices and those choices can affect the lives of not only ourselves but our families. I also know that Voldemort wasn’t a wizard that they could walk away from with their lives if they refused to serve him.” “Yes we were at war and the light suffered many losses but so have those families who are considered dark. So don’t talk to me about loss because I’ve lost greatly for the wizarding world. Prejudice has never gotten anyone anywhere and if we continue on the road that we are traveling Voldemort’s terror will be but a chapter in wizarding history because another will follow.” Harry snapped his magic crackling around him like a whip, breathing trying to calm himself down Harry pulled his magic back within himself without trouble. He really hated losing control of his magic. Snape looked over at the Potter heir, he knew the boy was powerful but the way the boy had control over his power was unimaginable. He never seen anyone control their power the way he just seem to pull his magic back within himself after it seem to whip around him so fierce and overwhelming not even the dark Lord’s magic felt so imposing. “What is it that you suggest Mr. Potter?” Septimus Weasley questioned shocked by the young man’s power display had brought an odd sort of calm in the chamber. “I’ve been working with Gringotts and the Child Welfare Department at the Ministry to set up my foundation. This foundation is dependant upon the child welfare proposal.” Harry replied. “Why is that?” Lord Flint questioned. “The Coventry Foundation will provide services for the international and local covenant for magical child welfare and children orphanage for the magical community. The Coventry foundation, will comprise of counselors, case workers who will work directly with the Child Welfare office here in the wizarding world, and the social services department in the muggle world so that we can keep track of magical children to ensure that they are healthy and being properly cared for. It will also provide the monetary assistance needed to send each child to a magical school.” “Coventry Hall” has already been cleared by the ministry and is ready to accept all magical and non-magical born wizarding children. Here in Britain and around the world.” Harry replied. “We can not afford to have another Tom Riddle.” “How is the ministry supposed to finance such a venture? Amelia Bones questioned. “Surely you’ve considered what this sort of galleons this course of actions will take?” “I have indeed considered the cost effectiveness of this venture. However, this will not cost the ministry in a monetary sense. All I request is that the Ministry provides me with a competent qualified unbiased person to train my staff so that they will be able to handle child welfare cases.” “The sole purpose of this foundation is to provide proper care and guidance for young squib, witches and wizards, by placing them in suitable homes where they will thrive and be loved. Donations are welcome and can be sent directly to Gringotts in care of Apponox who is the account manager for the foundation but at the moment the foundation has enough funds to run itself,” Harry replied. Lucius had a calculating expression on his face Potter was proving to be intriguing. “I put forth that all magical children entering the wizarding world from the muggle world be given the blood inheritance test to determine which family lines they come from. Mr. Potter has made some valid points, if his mother was the byproduct of two squibs producing a magical child we have to be able to confirm the rate and stop it from happening going forward,” Amelia added as a addendum to the ordinance. “All in favor of the child welfare ordinance raise your hand, Flint called, all against he questioned. 38/22 for, Amelia stated the child protective ordinance bill is passed. “Next order,” Flint stated waiting. Snape stood, “The floor recognizes Lord Prince” “I’m here representing the interest of Hogwarts and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall requesting amendments to the schools charter and curriculum,” Snape began. “Although Hogwarts is a great school, they are far behind in magical standard then other prominent magical schools, in Greece, Australia, the United States, and Brazil. “The proposal reads as thus.” “All magical children who are of age are invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This honor is extended to all children, witches, wizards and magical beings.” Muttering could be heard from a group Harry thought to be former Dumbledore supporters. It seemed to Harry that light families prejudice was just as bad if not worse than the dark families. “All first years who are muggle raised will be required to take the following classes.” Magical theory class before they are allowed to take classes that require magic. This is to better prepare them to learn. All students who are muggle raised will be required to take Wizarding Traditions classes so that they will better understand the world to which they now belong. All students will be required to take a writing mechanics class to teach them how to properly research and write essays for class. Elective Classes that start third year will now include Art which will train students to draw, paint sculpt and photography and music arts which will include learning to play an instrument and singing in the school choir. Electives being offered in 6th Year will include theory of offensive magic, ancient studies, elemental magic, alchemy, advance arithmancy and introduction to spell weaving. Hogwarts will also incorporate classes such as archery, sword fighting, elemental magic, theory of blood magic, theory of dark magic, spell crafting, lost arts and runic magic courses,” Snape finished reading retaking his seat. “Preposterous!”An older woman shouted, “We can’t condone dark magic being taught at Hogwarts.” ‘I don’t think the proposal said anything about dark magic being taught at Hogwarts it says theory of offensive magic. Which means it is a non-magic use class,” Harry replied. “Be that as it may Mr. Potter,” a man argued. “Lord Potter-Black,” Harry corrected the older man, “I haven’t given you permission to address me with such familiarity.” Lucius smirked at Potter's rebuttal, "Familiarity indeed." he thought. “Dark magic is against the law and as such a class such as that will circumvent the laws around dark magic use,” he continued not willing to listen. “When are we as wizards going to accept that people can not help their magical inclination? We are born in an affinity for different types of magic, whether it light, gray or dark. Magic isn’t dark or light,” Harry stated, “it’s the intent of the caster that makes it so.” Lucius brow rose at Harry’s forceful words. This had Dromie written all over it he was sure of it. The woman’s intellect was far beyond her years. “Are we going to continue to make unscrupulous laws outlawing every spell that is used negatively so that it can’t be used again or are we going to start punishing the actions of the individuals using the spells to cause harm? The spell it self isn’t evil it’s the intent of the caster. These laws make no more sense than the numerous irresponsible magical decrees that stifled the magic at Hogwarts,” Harry finished retaking his seat. Many members winced at their actions three years prior. “You’re suggesting that we abolish laws that protect the community from curses that are so heinous that they can end a witches or wizards life,” Another wizard questioned. “The real question is; are you suggesting that only a dark spell can cause harm or death?” Harry retorted silencing the man. He never thought he would be among the most prejudice members of society that seemed so far in their fear and beliefs that they couldn’t accept the reality of what magic was. “No light wizard would use spells to cause harm to anyone,” an older man with salt and pepper hair replied. Harry's expression darkened, "You sir are delusional in your views. Light does not mean innocent and dark definitely does not mean evil. You've proven a point, light witches and wizards are just as prejudice against dark wizarding families as dark families are against presumed muggle borns. A bit hypocritical isn't it." Neville snorted in disbelief. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that light wizards were exempt from wanting to cause someone else harm. The number of hexes that were fired over the years in the halls was enough to quall that notion. “And light wizards call dark wizards prejudice and self centered,” Neville thought to himself. “The wizarding world is outlawing spells that one person used in anger to cause harm or the death of another person. The spell didn’t change, the intent of the wizard did,” Harry rebutted calmly. “What is your point Potter,” Nott questioned irritated by the Gryffindor’s ignorance. “My point is that it’s never the spell that is good or evil, light or dark, it is the intent of the witch or wizard who uses it. Healers used spells that could be viewed as dark but there are accepted. Outlawing the spell isn’t the solution, punishing the perpetrator is.” Harry sat down and allowed them to think on his words. Snape remained silent he wasn’t worried about the ordinance being put to vote. He was sure the golden boy would get it to the vote. “I will back this proposal,” Neville stated. “I second,” agreed Augusta Longbottom she couldn’t’ fault the young man’s logic. “Intent Indeed,” she thought. “I third,” Septimus Weasley stated. “I fourth,” Lucius Malfoy stated shocking the entire assembly. Even Snape brow rose at Lucius agreeing with Potter of all people. “Call this to vote,” Flint stated, “32/28 for the proposal, Hogwarts proposal bill is passed.” Over the next hour Harry spelled a dicta quill to make notes on the session. He was anxiously waiting for the proposal on the magical ordinance for all magic wielders. A woman that Harry didn’t recognize stood, the Department for the Control of Magical Beast puts forth the motion to revisit the classification of magical beings and the laws of their restrictions. “I will back the proposal,” Harry announced, causing the witches and wizards from the light families to mutter in outrage. “I second the motion,” Neville concurred. Dowager Longbottom watched her grandson and Lord Black-Potter with a curious expression. It seemed the pair had formed an alliance of sort. It was rare for a person to win an argument let alone be taken seriously. These two would be formidable once they have learned a bit more, not that they were doing badly now. “Lord Black-Potter, surely you misunderstood what she is suggesting,” Lord Doge questioned. “I assure you Lord Doge, I’m well aware to what she was referring. I’ve completed extensive research on the classifications that was developed after the disaster of the all magical council in the 1400s,” Harry retorted. “Those classifications are for the protection of the wizarding world,” Higgs insisted. “Those classifications were made out of prejudice nothing more. Magic is not meant to be separated. The increasing number of squibs being born in all magic families cannot be blamed on inbreeding alone. Magical separation is a factor as well. You may suffer under the delusion that your blood is pure, but there isn’t a family alive that can honestly prove they do not have some type of magical being blood in their family history no matter how diluted the blood may be,” Harry challenged. “What does that have to do with anything?” a grizzly looking wizard snapped in irritation. “You can’t predict if a magical born will manifest that gene and become the very magical being that you scorn and detest. The lack of new blood is stunting the magical ability of the next generation of witches and wizards. You all are harping so much on purity of blood that you would marry your cousin just to keep your line pure, when in fact it isn’t pure by any means,” Harry continued before retaking his seat. “I third the motion,” Amelia Bones stated with a thoughtful expression on her face. She always thought that the magical populace lacked logic. Snape watched Potter, overwhelm the governing body with pure logic. He almost made it look easy. He wondered if the boy had applied himself to his studies as he’d done in this governing session, how he would have turned out. “Call this to vote,” Flint stated, “33/27 for the proposal The rest of the session passed without comment from Harry. They had done what they had come to do. They would work towards changing the laws and better the wizarding world a battle at a time. Harry thought as he stood to leave the chamber. “See it wasn’t so bad,” Neville said as they were heading from the chamber. “Wasn’t so bad,” Harry questioned with an incredulous expression, “were we in the same meeting?” Neville laughed in amusement. His friend wasn’t aware of his ability to get people to listen. He knew if Harry ever desired to run for Minister of Magic he would succeed. “I’m just glad it’s over,” Harry admitted, “I’m sure Dromie is going to grill me on how I think I performed.” “Not bad for your first session Lord Potter-Black,” Septimus Weasley stated, as he passed heading towards the floo network. “Thank you Lord Weasley,” Harry replied, “We’ll meet for lunch tomorrow, say around one, bring Daph” he suggested. “Sure, that will be fine,” Neville responded, “Shall I make the reservations or will you?” “I’ll send you an owl with place and time,” Harry said cheekily. “Dowager Longbottom it was truly a pleasure meeting you,” Harry said taking her hand kissing it briefly before wishing them both a nice evening. He noticed that Snape hadn’t stuck around after the meeting had let out. He figured the man had returned to Hogwarts to give Professor McGonagall the good news. __________________________ Snape stepped from the fireplace into McGonagall’s office, “Well Headmistress the boy wonder does it again,” he said by way of greeting the older woman. “Tea,” McGonagall asked as Snape approached her desk sitting in the comfortable arm chair. “Please,” he answered allowing himself to relax for the first time that day. Dumbledore’s painting was empty at the moment and Snape couldn’t help himself to wonder where the old man could possibly be. This was his first time in the office since before the war and he felt disconcerted and unsettled. “That’s wonderful news,” McGonagall replied with a large smile on her face. She was truly excited about the prospect of the school becoming a school the founders could be proud of. She was determined to bring the school from the depths in which Dumbledore allowed it to fall. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us arranging the dorms to house the magical influx of students. This is going to be a huge undertaking,” Snape mentioned sipping the hot liquid. “Things should be easy enough,” McGonagall insisted, “I will run the ad of all the classes that we are now going to provide and open the positions up to the magical community. We only have to worry about the influx of employment applications.” Snape snorted into his tea, “Indeed.” “We will have a better idea of school attendance once we send the letters out.” “Are you expecting a large number of students to return?” Snape questioned. “I can’t be certain,” McGonagall admitted “however, we will move forward with the reopening.” Snape nodded at her reasoning. He wondered that Dumbledore’s thoughts were about the changes being made at Hogwarts? He was sure the older woman had spoken with the portrait on matters dealing with the school not that Dumbledore could prevent any of it from happening. The pair enjoyed the afternoon over a game of chess with Snape telling McGonagall about Potter’s foundation and how the foundation could help students who need help with tuition to attend Hogwarts and get their school supplies. When Snape was ready to leave he was surprised when McGonagall hugged him. “You’re truly a remarkable wizard Severus Prince, and I’m honored to be able to call you a friend.” Snape couldn’t help but feel humble. It was with McGonagall’s thoughts of praise that he left the castle disappearing with a displacement of air.

Eric called on the radio every night after dinner. I could tell he missed his daughter, but said there was lots of work to be done at Simon’s outpost. I held the walkie-talkie up to Abby during every conversation so he could hear her coo or cry, and he listened intently, as if he was hanging onto every single sound she made. I reassured him she was well, though the little one was certainly keeping me on my toes. One night when he called, I put Abby back in her crib and sat down on my bed, clutching the radio in my hand. I hated that I didn’t get to see Eric every day. Now that Amy was gone, I found myself opening up to him and looking forward to his daily calls. Negan was busy leading the Sanctuary, and Vivienne had her garden to work on. Although I was in a huge community full of people, I somehow felt very alone. “You okay?” Eric’s voice came through and I pressed the talk button quickly. “Yeah, sorry…” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. “I’m probably just tired.” “Well I hope you know I appreciate everything you do for Abby. She’s lucky to have you.” Eric’s voice inflected a bit, hinting there was something else on his mind. I paused a few seconds and then replied. “How are you holding up?” Eric sighed into the radio and then let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t come here. There’s some…interesting people here.” “What do you mean?” He didn’t answer right away and I pressed on. “Eric?” Static came through and then he spoke. “Some of the men have pictures hanging up of these brutal murders…like gore and blood. It’s disgusting, but I think it’s people they’ve killed...or people Negan’s killed.” “Why would they do that?” I asked, ignoring the chill that was running through me. My mind instantly brought me back to the hallway outside of the principal’s office where I listened to the sound of Derek’s head being crushed. “I don’t know. But Elle… Many of them look exactly like when you bashed Adam’s head in. They display them like trophies. I’m not sure we’re on the right side here…” I knew Negan could be cruel with his punishments, but I’d never witnessed firsthand how he handled his other communities. I remembered the first time we met him and how he’d said he usually beat someone to death to prove how serious he was. He’d showed us mercy, but Eric was looking at photo proof that others weren’t so lucky. “I’m not so sure there is a right side anymore,” I said, trying not to picture the bloody sight of Adam at my feet. How could I possibly judge Negan for bashing in someone’s skull when I had done the exact same thing? After Eric said good night, I took out a stack of notebooks where all the points had been tallied for the day. It was a meticulous job, but I was glad Negan was willing to let me work. As I scanned over the many names listed and the points earned, I double checked math to make sure no one was cheating the system—not that the system itself was fair to begin with. Negan’s Saviors didn’t have to work for points, only the members of the Sanctuary did. His Saviors were allowed to take whatever they wanted, and this caused a bit of a problem with keeping track of items. Where one person might have to save up weeks just to earn a desired new piece of clothing, a Savior could just go to the marketplace and take it. I approached Negan about the issue on the first day of my new job, suggesting that if the Saviors also worked for points and we kept everyone on the same standards, it would be more fair. He brushed me off as he went into a meeting and told me ‘nothing is fair anymore’. A few days after I’d started counting points, the whole Sanctuary was buzzing with talk that the people who’d stolen medical supplies had returned to beg for Negan’s forgiveness. They said one of them didn’t make it, but the married couple didn’t want to chance surviving out on their own. I had thought it was just rumors, but then Negan called a meeting for the entire Sanctuary and announced there would be a public punishment that evening before dinner. Attendance was mandatory. During lunch, I saw Vivienne sitting at a table eating some rice and vegetables. I had to give it to the cook—they knew how to make good grub. The Sanctuary members were kept well fed, and because of Vivienne’s hard work, they’d been able to incorporate more produce in their meals. Setting my plate down on the spot in front of her, I smiled. “Hey stranger,” I said. She glanced up from her fork and looked confused. “Hey, Elle. Where’s Abby?” “She’s with Frankie and Tanya,” I quickly explained. Negan’s wives had offered to watch her any time I needed a break, and although any interaction with them made me uncomfortable, I was grateful to have a few minutes to myself. “Mind if I join you?” Vivienne gestured for me to sit, and as I did, she took a bite of rice. “How are things with the greenhouse?” I asked. It felt like forever since I had gotten a chance to speak with her. She was always working her ass off. “Very good. We’ve got plenty of seeds, and soil is good. We gotta make sure we keep things watered. I certainly have lots of room. We’re not just using the greenhouse. Negan’s got me planting things everywhere.” Vivienne seemed very proud of her work and I grinned as she talked. I was happy to see that, much like her garden, she was flourishing here. “That’s great, Viv. I know he appreciates it.” “Would help if some Saviors would stop plucking food from the vine before it’s ripe. The tomato plant I grew last time we were here has been completely raided. Thankfully one of those brutes didn’t eat the seeds and was wise enough to keep them.” “I talked to Negan about that, but I don’t think he’s willing to make changes,” I said, taking a bite of rice. Vivienne shook her head. “No, it’s fine. The Saviors work hard to keep us safe. It’s just a plant…” She avoided my gaze and I reached out to touch her hand. “Vivienne, what’s wrong?” A nervous smile painted her face and she fidgeted with her hands. “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m just trying to mentally prepare for tonight. That’s all.” I didn’t understand at first, but then I remembered Negan was going to punish the thieves. “You don’t have to go, Viv,” I said in a low voice. “Of course I do.” She looked shocked that I would suggest such a thing. “Well I’m not going.” “You have to!” Her voice raised and she stared at me appalled. “He has to punish those who screw over the rest of the community!” I stared at her wide eyed. Seeing her get so defensive over Negan was off-putting and I frowned as she watched me sternly. “Why are you suddenly drinking the kool-aid?” “It’s how it has to be, Elle. I know it’s not great, but without order, these people would just take whatever they want all the time. It would be mass chaos. There has to be punishments when people do something wrong.” She swallowed hard and lowered her voice. “We don’t have to like it. That doesn’t matter. But we have to respect the system.” I could have argued about it more with her, but I could already tell her mind was made up. Perhaps it had been the trauma of losing Amy and Ryan, or maybe she truly believed what she was saying. Either way, she was more than willing to play by Negan’s rules. I wasn’t as agreeable to his violent nature, and refused to accept it. We ate the rest of our lunch in silence. Afterwards, I left Vivienne in a hurry, storming off to head for Negan’s bedroom. I pounded on the door a few times, and when no one answered, I decided I would check the main floor. As I entered the stairwell, I was met with the sight of a woman puffing on a cigarette and leaning up against the wall. She was pretty, with medium-long, soft brown hair and a thin build. My eyes went from her face to the tight-fitting black dress she was wearing. I stood there gawking at her as she took me in. Then, she moved out of my way so I could head down the stairs. But I was frozen in place, unable to look away from her. I glanced down at the heels I knew would be strapped to her feet. She looked away, as if she was hoping I would just go on and stop blatantly staring at her. I felt like throwing up, but I pushed past the sick feeling and walked down the steps, doing my best to ignore the woman that was still smoking behind me. Negan had taken another wife. When I came to the main floor, I could hear a deep voice talking to someone, demanding they hurry up. As I crossed the room, I noted there were four armed Saviors standing guard nearby him and a few more up on the catwalks. They peered down at me through the yellow bars as I made my way to Negan. At the center of the room in front of a fire pit, there was a man sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind his back. He had stringy, blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and light-colored facial hair covering his upper lip and chin. His head was hanging down and he looked utterly defeated. Negan was staring over the shoulder of the Savior working the fire pit. “Having trouble igniting the flame, Fat Joey? Bet you can’t get it up either.” He teased the man. “Negan?” I called out, hearing the irritation in my voice. He turned and looked back at where I was, completely unaffected by my tone. “Hello, Elle.” He greeted me nonchalantly, as if there wasn’t a man tied to a chair only a few feet from us. “This is wrong,” I stated, loud enough so I knew everyone in the room could hear me. “You know full well this is how we do things. Besides, this fucker’s lucky to be alive.” He gestured to the man in the chair who wasn’t even acknowledging us. As much as I pitied the man awaiting his punishment, it wasn’t why I had started this confrontation. Taking a step closer to Negan, I lowered my voice. “You took on another wife?” Negan’s cocky visage didn’t crack and he shrugged. “It doesn’t involve you.” “Like hell it doesn’t!” I exclaimed. My raised voice seemed to take the stringy-haired man off guard and his head shot up. Glancing down at him, I noticed he was watching me, looking distraught. Then I realized it wasn’t my loud outburst that had affected him. “There was a woman in the stairwell...she was smoking. Is she your wife?” As I spoke, he glanced away, trying hard not to meet my eyes. I took a step towards him, hoping to get him to look at me, but Negan stepped in my way, blocking my sight of the tied up man. “This doesn’t fucking concern you, Elle.” I attempted to look past him, but the man was squeezing his eyes shut and had his head tilted down. I hadn’t thought he could look more miserable, but after learning about his wife’s fate, he became even more dispirited. Looking back up at Negan, I scowled at him. “You’re so full of shit, you know that?” I snarled. “You said you married those women to protect them. This is just heartless.” “Sherry offered!” Negan said, unaffected by my words. “And we haven’t made anything official. She’s just trying on the dress. Making sure it hugs all the right places.” Negan’s eyes went over to the man in the chair and he waggled his brows mockingly. “She begged me not to kill Dwight here, but I think she just wanted to know what it’s like to be with a real man. Well now she knows.” As he spoke, I knew he was trying to upset Dwight, but in his efforts, it was as if he’d forgotten I was standing with them. My eyes widened as I absorbed what he was saying. He’d slept with this woman. So many emotions ran through me in the next few seconds. He had already told me he was still sleeping with his other wives, but learning he’d taken on a sixth was like a punch to the gut. I stared up at him as he continued to taunt Dwight. And I saw red. Reaching up, my hand connected with his face as I slapped him. The sound echoed throughout the room. Within a fraction of a second, his men raised their guns and aimed them at me. I didn’t care and glared up at Negan. His head was turned to the side from the force of the slap and he reached up to touch his face. Then his eyes went to me. Where I thought I’d see fire I saw genuine confusion. He looked past me at a Savior that was pointing his weapon at my head, and only then did he become angry. “Put those fucking things down!” he shouted. As they lowered their weapons, I continued to scowl at him through tear filled eyes. I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t find my voice. I felt so exposed standing in front of all of his men that I suddenly felt very trapped. Turning from him, I went to step away when a Savior blocked my path. I froze, meeting the man’s gaze. We stared each other down for a few seconds before Negan cleared his throat. “Let her go,” he ordered. I didn’t look back and rushed out of the room. Going outside, I saw a supply truck had just pulled up into the yard and that the gate leading into the yard was open. Sprinting over to the truck, I got into the driver’s side and found the keys were still in the ignition and the engine was running. I heard shouting as I put the truck into drive and stepped on the gas. Within seconds, I was speeding away from the Sanctuary. Fuck him. I squeezed the wheel and glared out the windshield. Of course he would take on another wife. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like we were in a relationship. Sherry was a beautiful lady—they all were. Negan was like a king in his castle and he got whatever the fuck he wanted. Hell, even Vivienne was totally on board with his games now. She’d probably make an argument for him on why he needed multiple women to fuck. I’d almost driven for an hour, flying down the road and getting more upset with each minute, when the truck started to slow. I furrowed my brow in confusion as it came to a halt in the middle of the street. Glancing at the gas gauge, I let out a frustrated sigh. It was empty. “GODDAMMIT!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the steering wheel multiple times. Tears welled up in my eyes as my anger boiled over. It was like the straw that broke the camel’s back—I had been so focused on getting away from the Sanctuary that I hadn’t stopped to think what I was doing. Now I was stranded out in the middle of nowhere. Except it wasn’t nowhere. Studying my surroundings, I realized I knew exactly where I was. The familiar signs made me feel a little better that I wasn’t miserably lost. Leaving the keys on the seat of the truck, I hopped out and shut the door. I figured Negan’s men would retrieve it sooner rather than later. Checking around to make sure there weren’t any nearby walkers, I continued making my way down the street. It took about an hour of walking, but eventually I came to a road I knew all too well. As I made my way down it, I heard a strange sound. At first it was far away, but the more I walked, the closer it got. Every few moments there was a sharp ringing noise, as if someone was banging on metal. I knew it couldn’t be walkers, and was too curious for my own good. Stepping off the road, I chose to walk in the trees and creep forward until I could see the wall that wrapped around the school. I got as close as I dared, and then hid behind a tree to see what I was hearing. It didn’t take long to figure out someone was trying to mend the gate. As the banging noise continued, I waited patiently and wondered if I should approach. Perhaps Negan had sent some of his men to fix the school for me? When the gate swung open to reveal the person patching the broken metal piece, I stared in surprise. Charlotte wiped at her sweaty brow and tested the gate to make sure it moved properly. I remained hidden, studying her from a distance. She looked exhausted; she was clutching a hammer in her hand, and after opening and closing the gate a few times, she went back to trying to fix the latch. I noticed there were a few walker bodies laying on the ground near the gate, and wondered if she’d had to kill them due to the noise. I also couldn’t help but wonder how she would react to seeing me. I was happy she was alive, but knew she hated me for what happened to Derek. I watched her work on the gate for a long time, debating if I should reveal myself or not. I wanted so desperately to talk to someone and wished we could go back to the day we’d met in her treehouse. It had felt good to open up to someone—to talk to a person with an outsider’s perspective. But Charlotte wasn’t that person anymore, and she’d never want to talk to me. Not after what I'd done. Eventually, the gate was pulled closed and Charlotte seemed content with her work. After locking the metal into place, she gathered her tools and returned to the school building. I placed my hand on the bark of the tree I was leaning against and started to cry as I looked at the gate. Doveport wasn’t mine anymore. It only felt fair Charlotte should inherit it. She deserved to have a safe place to call home. It would never be enough for taking her brother away from her, but it was a start. As I tried to collect myself, I realized Negan was wrong. His way wasn’t the only way to survive in this new world. There were still good people making a living—still better ways to handle things without burning faces and bashing in heads. Charlotte was proof of that. Doveport was still proof of that. As the sun set, I eventually left the trees and headed back down the road. I didn’t have any food or water, and my sore stomach and dry mouth were already a sign this trip home would be hell. It would take me all night to walk back, and that was if I didn’t run into any problems. Sure enough, walkers began to catch sight of me and followed me down the road. I walked briskly, keeping ahead of the threat. There were only about five of them, but I didn’t want to waste my energy killing them off. As long as I moved fast, I could keep a good distance from them. If only I could have stolen a truck with a full tank of gas. Two hours later, I’d made little progress. The sky was a deep pink and orange, and I was panting in the Virginia heat. The group of walkers had tripled and was fast becoming a serious threat. I couldn’t stop, although my feet were already sore and tired. I mentally kicked myself for putting myself in such a stupid position. The sun had barely disappeared on the horizon when a supply truck came speeding down the road. I watched as it flew past me and did a U-turn, only to pull up next to me and stop. I looked through the window to see Negan peering out at me. As we stared at one another, I glanced over at the hoard of walkers that were quickly closing the distance. I really didn’t want to have to suffer the awkward ride, but it beat becoming a snack for the dead. Getting into the truck, I pulled the door shut and Negan hit the gas. We sped away from the group of walkers and I watched them disappear in the rearview mirror. “Here.” Negan offered me a water bottle and I took it. Not caring how it looked, I chugged the water gratefully, finishing half of it within seconds. Negan watched me out of the corner of his eye, but I ignored him and turned to look out the window. We spent the remainder of the car ride in silence, though I could tell he was itching to say something. I wished he would have just sent one of his men to fetch me. We reached the Sanctuary and Negan parked the truck near the entrance to the factory, but didn’t get out. I placed my hand on the door handle just as he began to speak. “I want you to come up to my bedroom…” His voice was stern, as if he wasn’t asking. I didn’t look at him. “Why don’t you just have Sherry do it?” I muttered, opening the truck door. Negan got out just as I did, but he slammed the door shut so loud it rocked the entire truck. Rolling my eyes at his childish behavior, I headed into the Sanctuary. I decided I would let him lecture me in the hopes I could go to bed and get off my aching feet. As we walked down the hallway, I glanced into my room to see Tanya was holding Abby and sitting on my bed. “Oh, Negan!” she said, standing up. “I just-” “Not now,” he barked, ignoring her big eyes and entering into his bedroom. I gave her an apologetic look and then followed him in. I had stormed off and left Abby behind, and Tanya had become responsible in my absence. I never planned on abandoning her, but knew that if Amy was still alive, she would be furious with me. Not because Tanya wasn’t capable, but because I had promised her I would watch over her child. Taking a deep breath, I closed the door behind me and then faced the beast. “That little fucking adventure you went on could have gotten you killed!” Negan bellowed the second the latch clicked. “I know you’re pissed off about the whole wife situation, but I can’t have you disrespecting me in front of my men like that.” “Fine. Anything else?” I gave him a scathing look, hoping to cut this short. “What the fuck has gotten into you? You’ve been acting so fucking cold ever since you moved here!” “I’ll be sure to work on that,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I just watched my friends die or anything. Oh, and I just LOVE looking at this growing collection of women you’re accumulating!” I gestured in the direction of the parlor room and my saccharine tone faded away and was replaced with one of frustration. “It fucking kills me that you’d take on another wife. You said before that you hated having to drive to Doveport, but now I’m here, and you’re still sleeping with them. It was never about the distance. You’re just fucking selfish!” “I was trying to do the right thing!” he shouted. “Tina needed meds. She was fucking diabetic and couldn’t afford insulin. I offered for her to become a wife so she wouldn’t have to work anymore, but she didn’t like that either, and instead, she chose secret option C. The three of them robbed us and fled. She died out there, and Dwight and Sherry realized they fucked up. I was going to kill them both, but Sherry is practical. She didn’t want me to kill Dwight, so she offered to marry me.” “But you could have said no!” Negan let out a sigh and shook his head. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you…” He was shifting gears; his tone becoming soft. I looked away and scoffed, disgusted with him. “Oh, just stop, Negan.” “Fuck, Elle! It’s not like we’re fucking married!” he argued. He was right—we weren’t committed to each other, but that remark caused me to wonder about something… “Did you sleep with other people when you were with Lucille?” I asked suddenly. As I said her name, Negan’s hardened features cracked and he became confused. Then my words sunk in and a look of guilt spread across his face, giving me my answer. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” he muttered, looking away to avoid my gaze. “Did you cheat on her?” I refused to let him dodge this. His jaw became stiff and he tensed up. His eyes went to the barbed wire bat that was leaning against his nightside table. “Negan, did you cheat-” “Yes.” His confession felt heavy, and we both stood there soaking in such a simple word. I remembered back to our fight—the ugly argument we’d had months prior, before we’d met Derek and right after I’d finished my rehab from the pain pills. I’d asked Negan if Lucille knew she wasn’t enough for him in attempt to get under his skin, and it had worked. I’d never thought more about what that insinuated, until now. Negan sat down on his bed and stared off into space. He appeared distraught, and I thought he wasn’t going to talk anymore. Then he swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. “She fainted one day. It just happened out of fucking nowhere. One minute everything was fine, and the next I’m rushing her to the hospital. Doc said it was cancer. I held her in my arms while she cried. I knew I couldn’t fix it…knew that our time together had an expiration date. I tried to focus on being a coach, and I hit the gym every day, but it wasn’t enough of a distraction…” He trailed off and closed his eyes, then took a deep breath before continuing. “I was already cheating on her before we got the diagnosis. Back then it was an occasional fling, but after she got sick, the affair became weekly. It wasn’t that I resented her, or that I stopped loving her. I never stopped loving her…I just wanted to feel something other than this fucking emptiness eating away at me. The guilt was easier to handle. But I realized too late that I was wasting what little time we had left—that all I needed was her. So I ended the affair and committed myself to Lucille.” His voice cracked as he said her name. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he had been unfaithful in his first marriage, and yet I found myself shocked. The way he spoke about Lucille, I never would have thought him to have cheated on her in a million years. But he had… “She knew about the other woman, and was mad I ended it. She couldn’t understand why I would pick 'the sick one’, but she let me stay with her...after all the crap I’d put her through...She started chemo, and we bullshitted like we used to, but it wasn’t the same. Then her hair… Her beautiful, dark locks fell out and she had to wear those fucking cancer scarves. She said she felt so ugly, but she was still so fucking beautiful. I brought her to every appointment and anywhere she wanted to go. We used to go to the park and feed the birds, before she got too weak to get out of bed. I stayed by her side up until the very end, when she had tubes shoved down her throat and in her nose…” My heart felt like it stopped when I realized he was crying. Negan hung his head down to hide his face, and his voice was strained as he fought the tears. “That’s when the world ended. The dead came to life just as she died. I couldn’t save her from the cancer, but I can keep others alive now.” Negan looked up with watery eyes and a stern expression. “The rules have kept us safe. Dwight and Sherry stole medication and had to be punished. Being a wife is Sherry’s punishment, even if it was her idea. She knows how shit works around here. People have to be kept in line. There are tons of Sherrys and Dwights just waiting to fuck us all over. When they see the ones who try get reprimanded, it ensures order.” “But you slept with her, Negan,” I whispered as I studied his face. I never thought I’d see him cry. “Because I feel like I’m losing you,” he said quietly. “You haven’t been the same since Amy died. I know you need time to grieve, but it’s like you’re still at that fucking school. There’s this distance between us, and I can’t stand it.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Marrying Sherry was a mistake. I fuckin’ know that. And I know I’ve only added to that distance, but if I could fuck up the good thing I had with Lucille, it was only a matter of time before I fucked it up with you. I’m still that same, stupid man cheating on his wife. I’ve always been an asshole, but now I’m so much worse. I’ve done things for the Sanctuary… Unspeakable fucking things, Elle…” He put his face into his hands and tried to hide the fact he was weeping. I wanted so badly to go to him—to comfort him—to forgive him. But I couldn’t. My feet were frozen in place as I watched this man fall apart before me. I knew he was right—I hadn’t been the same since Amy passed. I didn’t feel like myself anymore, but he could have talked to me. We could have tried to fix things. Instead, he took on wife number six. I was sick of sitting back and letting him do whatever he wanted with these women. I felt neglected and taken for granted. I wanted what we had to be more than sex, but the romance felt like it was dying. I could either put up or shut up. It was time to lay all my cards on the table. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said quietly. It came out more monotone than I intended. I stood there like a statue and wanted so badly just to feel something other than this horrible numbness. “What if I stopped sleeping with them?” he asked through misty eyes. “That’s not the point.” I shook my head and looked away. It was difficult to see him with tear-stained cheeks, knowing I was the one causing him to feel guilty. “You don’t get to have me and those other women. It doesn’t work that way.” Finding the courage to move, I stepped over to the door and fought my own tears that were building. I hated the finality in my voice, but knew if i didn’t say my peace—if I didn’t give him this ultimatum now, I’d regret it. “I’m not Lucille—I don’t want you to pick them. I want you to pick me.” I hated how selfish I sounded in that moment. I knew he didn’t care about his wives the way he cared for me, but I still envied them. They caused a rift in our relationship, and the only way I could move forward was if it was just us. I didn’t want to have to wonder if he would be spending the night with me or one of them. I wanted all of him, not just a part. “Me or them. You have to choose.” Ball in his court, I turned away and opened the door. As I stepped into the hallway, I heard his voice. “Elle…” he called, sounding desperate. I stopped for only a second, and when he didn’t say anything, I let the door fall shut. Turning back, I thought maybe he would chase after me. When he didn’t, I pressed my ear against the wood and listened. At first I heard nothing. Then, I heard the muffled sound of his voice. “I’m sorry.” He had no way of knowing I heard him, but I had. He sounded remorseful, and it killed me. I’d sent him on one hell of a guilt trip, and I wanted so badly to go back into his room and assure him everything would be okay. I wanted to forgive him. Lucille had—but I couldn’t. Stepping away from his door, I felt hot tears spill down my cheeks. I hated this. I hated how this choice was hard for him. But he still needed to make it. Wiping at my eyes, I did my best to get my bearings and then headed for my bedroom where Tanya and Abby were waiting for me. Please choose me.

Shibuya  In the late afternoon, the sun shines down as Kureto enters through the front gates of Shibuya on horseback with Aiko following close behind him. Their large party and guard follow close behind them. He looks around to see various men with short, near balding hair and black robes walking throughout the capital with hard black sticks in their hands.  As the beta enters commoners and citizens take note of him and his golden hand. The citizens move to bow as Kureto rides past them towards the Royal Keep, barely acknowledging them. The dark robed men eye him with scorn and wariness.  Kureto turns away from them and looks ahead as his eyes fall on the faint outline of Mahiru's chamber window near the top of the castle as he feels the anticipation and nervousness for their reunion building within him. Inside Mahiru's chambers, the omega sits in her chair with a goblet of wine. Her purple hair still a short pixie cut, yet growing longer at the ends. She is clad in a pink dress with red embroideries. Mahiru looks somberly at the ground, depressed that Tyuri has not come yet to see her. Mahiru's eyes look towards the door in excitement when it opens as hope fills her.  Kureto enters through the door as Mahiru's feels the disappointment settle within her. She is relieved to see Kureto, but she would much rather see Tyuri. She can't help the way she feels as Kureto's eyes widen when he takes in her state and new appearance.  "You changed your hair." Kureto observes.  A wistful smirk settles on Mahiru's face as she turns back towards the window from her chair. "Not of my will, of course. I would never choose to look like a little omegan boy, if I had any say in it." Kureto walks towards the omega before kneeling down in front of her. Mahiru keeps her eyes ahead.  "What happened when I was gone?" Kureto asks.  Mahiru looks at him before looking back out the window, "I never should have sent you away." "What happened?" Kureto implores.  "The High Sparrow." Mahiru says after a beat passes, "I brought the Faith Militant back to the forefront of Shibuya and appointed the High Sparrow their leader because I wanted to rid myself of those fucking Inoue's, especially that simpering cunt, Rika." Kureto keeps his eyes on her. "Those were the men in the dark robes patrolling the streets?" "It worked for a while before it all turned back on me." Mahiru says with a nod, "The old cunt Inoue, I know it was her, she must have told them about what I did with you, Hozumi, and Goshi. Every bad thing I've done. The only way that she could have known any of that is, if she had someone who was around us all of this time." "Kagiyama?" Kureto suggests correctly.  Mahiru nods tearfully, "They threw me in the black cells beneath the Sept. I was there for so long." Kureto listens on as he feels his blood boil.   "But, then I confessed to what I did to Hozumi." Mahiru says. "I denied everything else because, I can't lose you. It's the reason why you were not accosted by the Faith in the streets. I can't give you up." Kureto feels his heart stutter as a warm feeling fills his body when Mahiru tells him this.  "Because I did not confess to all of the supposed crimes, they allowed me to return to the Royal Keep to await a further trial to decide my fate." Mahiru says bitterly before her eyes grow dark and sad, "The only way they would let me return was by walking back here to atone for what I confessed to with Hozumi." Kureto's gaze turns murderous and his eyes grow dark.  Tears begin to pour from Mahiru's eyes as she cries out, "They cut my hair and stripped me naked. The High Sparrow forced me to walk like that back here for all of Shibuya to see! Every one of those fucking peasants shouted curses at me and threw every revolting thing they could find as I walked back here. The ground was so hot my feet were bleeding by the time I returned." Kureto immediately moves to consume the crying omega. He embraces his sister as he feels love for her protecting him fill him. He feels the fury and murderous destruction towards those who wronged her grow as he listens to her sobs.  "I'm back now. You and Tyuri are the two most important things to me." Kureto tells her soothingly. "I am going to protect you both now, no matter what happens." Mahiru pulls away to look at Kureto. She sees the serious intent of his gaze and feels the sincerity of his words give her comfort.  "Tyuri hasn't even come to see me since I've returned." Mahiru tells him.   "I'll talk to him." Kureto tells her. "I'll make sure he comes." Mahiru still has water eyes when she tells Kureto, "He's all I have left. He was always the good one from our children. I always thought if I could make something so good, so pure...maybe I’m not a monster. It's only a matter of time before he's dead in the ground like Takashi." Kureto looks up at her in shock before shaking his head, "They were my children and I failed them as a father." "No, I knew this would happen." Mahiru looks away from his eyes, "The witch told me years ago. She promised me two children. She promised me they’d die. And gold their shrouds. Everything she said came true so far. You couldn’t have stopped it. It’s prophecy. It’s fate." "You don’t believe that." Kureto tells her.  "Of course I do." Mahiru meets his gaze, "You told me yourself when father and uncle died. You said we had to stay together. You said people would try to tear us apart, take what’s ours. That was a prophecy, too. I didn’t listen to you, and everything you said came true." Kureto places his flesh hand on Mahiru's cheek. Gentle, yet firm on the soft flesh of her cheek as he gazes up at her.  "Fuck prophecy. Fuck fate. Fuck everyone who isn’t us. We’re the only ones who matter, the only ones in this world. And everything they’ve taken from us, we’re going to take back and more." Kureto declares to her.  Mahiru nods and leans in. Kureto knows he shouldn't, but he can't help the love he feels for this omega. Despite what he and Aiko talked about on the tour of the Riverlands, he can't stop his love for Mahiru, especially after knowing what she did for him.   Kureto leans in to meet her halfway before kissing her passionately. Mahiru returns it for a moment before pulling away from her brother.  Kureto embraces and holds her against his body. Mahiru's head rests on his shoulder as she stops crying from the words the Kureto has told her. Kureto closes his eyes as his hand rests on her naked nape.  "We’re going to take everything there is." Kureto tells her intimately.  Mahiru hardens her gaze as she agrees while finally returning Kureto's embrace. In her black cell, Rika sits on her knees with her head lowered before a standing Septa Kiyomi. The gray-robed septa with the matching barbette headdress reads dully from "The Seven-Pointed Star." Rika's blonde's hair is stringy and she is covered with dirt. The imprisoned omega is clad in her knee-length grey-brown dress. Hay litters the floor of her dark cell. "“The Seven Hells brim with the souls of saintly men. They scream in agony and their shame is so great, they do not feel the flames, for now they see if not for a single sin they concealed, they were saved.”" Septa Kiyomi reads to Rika.  "I’d like to see my brother." Rika says.  "Confess." Septa Kiyomi tells her. "Please. How is he? At least tell me that." Rika pleads slightly.  "Confess." "I am the Queen and I demand to see my brother." Rika says lowly.  "Sinners don’t make commands. They make confessions." Septa Kiyomi says.  A dark sneer covers the alpha woman's face before she slams the book shut and approaches Rika aggressively. Rika recoils back into the room, preparing herself for Septa Kiyomi's merciless reprimand.  Suddenly, the lock on the door is pulled off and the door opens. Septa Kiyomi stiffens.  "Septa Kiyomi." The High Sparrow's voice rings around the cell as he enters. The High Sparrow sighs before telling her, "Our other guests need you." Septa Kiyomi curls her lip in disgust at Rika before turning and exiting out the black cell, leaving just Rika and the High Sparrow.  Rika glances up as hair covers her face to watch the alpha leave. The High Sparrow approaches her and gently brushes a large section of her blonde hair over her shoulder. Rika tenses slightly, letting out a surprised gasp before meeting the old alpha's eyes as he stands above her.  "There." The High Sparrow whispers soothingly to the tense omega.  "Septa Kiyomi can be overzealous at times. I’ll speak with her." The High Sparrow tells Rika.  "My brother, can you tell me how he is?" Rika looks up at the man.  The High Sparrow sighs before taking a seat on a wooden bench, "It isn’t Ser Reo that brings me here. Your husband misses you dearly. The love between a husband and wife is sacred. It reflects the love the gods have for all of us. But sin leads us away from the sacred. And only confession can purge sin." Rika looks at the man before slightly shaking her head, "I have nothing to confess." "So you believe you are pure? Perfect? Wholly without sin?" The High Sparrow asks her.  Rika looks down in contemplation at his words before shaking her head. "None of us are." "You have started down the path. But you have many miles to go." The High Sparrow tells Rika.  Rika looks up at him and meets his gaze. The alpha rises off of the bench, Rika watches him leave before moving to hug her knees in contemplation as a plan begins to formulate in her head.  Harajuku A man makes his way down the street of Harajuku where it is known that beggars lie. A beta woman holds out an open pot for him to put some coinage in, but he ignores her and walks further down the street. The man turns the corner, walking past an alpha girl in brown robes.  The blonde head of hair looks up blindly to reveal the white pupils of Mitsuba Sanguu. The alpha is covered with dirt from begging and being chased away after blindly stealing scraps. She's been unable to see anything for almost a month since Nix forced her out of the House of Black and White. Mitsu's tattered blonde hair goes down to her middle back. The alpha holds a bowl in her hands as another alpha man walks pass her to throw a coin into it. The sound alerting her towards the direction where the man walks as she remembers to hold out the bowl.    "Thank you." Mitsu says in the direction the man came from.  Mitsu falls silent and begins to listen once again to the chatter of the common folk as they pass by this little blind girl.  "Are you listening, blind girl?" The Waif's familiar voice says in front of Mitsu.  Mitsu looks up in the direction of the voice. Her ears pick up on the sound of the end of two sticks hitting the ground as the Waif turns them.  "Do you hear them talking? Do any of them talk to you? No. So sad." The Waif mocks.  Mitsu huffs a breath.  The Waif holds out a stick to her before remembering Mitsu is blinded. The Waif tosses the stick and when it lands on Mitsu's lap, the alpha drops her bowl in shock. The sound of coins clattering to the ground fill her ears as Mitsu grabs the stick.  The Waif approaches a still sitting and confused Mitsu. She hits Mitsu on her right arm causing the woman to cry out in pain.  "Stand and fight, blind girl." The Waif tells Mitsu.  Mitsu stands, she breathes out in both frustration and fear. The alpha holds the stick pointed in the direction she believes the Waif to be. "I can’t see." Mitsu says with a slight plea in her voice. "That’s your problem, not mine." The Waif says.  The Waif hits her in the leg causing Mitsu to stumble, yet remain standing.  Mitsu swings in the direction the hit came from, only to find air as the Waif moves around her. Mitsu moves to the spot where the Waif was originally and turns to point her stick across from the Waif.  The Waif backs away before jabbing her in the stomach and striking her in the knee causing Mitsu to fall onto the ground with two pained groans.  Mitsu rises quickly and swings angrily at the Waif as she switches places with the Waif who moves to the spot Mitsu just was.  The Waif hits her right cheek before striking her left cheek harder causing Mitsu to fall to the ground as blood begins to fill her mouth. Mitsu grunts before standing and swinging randomly, hoping to hit the Waif. The Waif jabs Mitsu in the stomach twice, before raising her stick to hit her chin, and finally hit her side. Mitsu falls to the ground as the pain grows from the Waif's continuous assault.  Mitsu struggles to rise and tries to stand with the help of her stick before the Waif knocks it causing her to fall again.  Mitsu quickly grabs the stick and points it in the direction of the Waif's footsteps as she stands in front of her.  The Waif looks down at her blankly before saying, "See you tomorrow." Mitsu keeps her stick raised as the footsteps draw further from her. She lowers it when she cannot hear them anymore. Mitsu pants as she looks down while blood pours from her mouth.    Shinjuku - Meeridan  From the bottom of the Great Pyramid of Meeridan, Yukimi and Shinya exit the door onto the streets of Meeridan. Shinya has his silver hair in a ponytail while wearing the white underdress with a brown robe over it, dark slacks, and black boots. Yukimi has her blue hair in one braid and wears a similar outfit to Shinya.  "We’re never going to fix what’s wrong with this city from the top of an 800-foot pyramid." Shinya tells the omega as a commoner walks past them.  Yukimi looks over her shoulder at the commoner. Shinya notices this before sighing at her, "We’ll be fine. We’re dressed like common merchants." "You walk like a rich person." Yukimi tells the other omega.  "You’ve spent a lot of time studying the way rich people walk?" Shinya asks teasingly.  "You walk as though the paving stones were your personal property. I used to steal from people like you when I was a girl." Yukimi tells Shinya.  "And how did that work out for you?" Shinya asks as they come upon a woman on the street cradling her baby.  Shinya makes his way to her as Yukimi follows taking coinage out from his pocket.  "For your baby. To eat." Shinya attempts in Valyrian.  The omega woman cowers away from Shinya and clutches her baby tighter.  "She thinks you want to eat her baby." Yukimi tells Shinya.  Yukimi kneels before taking the coin from a gaping Shinya's hand, "His Valyrian is terrible. He only wants to give you money, so your baby can eat." Yukimi hands the woman the coin as Shinya smiles in slight embarrassment. The woman gestures her hand to her forehead in a gesture of thanks.  Both omega's nod before continuing on down the street.  Shinya and Yukimi walk past a wall that has written on it in black ink, "KILL THE MASTERS." Under it is written in red "MHYSA IS A MASTER." "Mhysa means mother in Valyrian." Yukimi explains to Shinya.  "I know what mhysa means." Shinya says rolling his eyes.  "Who wrote it?" Yukimi asks.  "Hard to know. Our queen is not as popular in Meeridan as he used to be." Shinya says.  "The Sons of the Harpy?" Yukimi asks.  "Very possibly. Mikaela Shindo took away their most valuable property, told them human beings weren’t even property to begin with. You can see why they’re unhappy. Of course, it could also be the freed men." Shinya ponders.  Shinya and Yukimi look behind them as a group of commoners enter a tunnel. The two omega's glance at each other before moving to follow them.  Inside of the tunnel, a large group of around fifty commoners surround a beta man in a red robe that stands on a box and preaches to the group in Valyrian. A red priest, most likely.  "For the night is dark and full of terrors." The group of commoners say as Yukimi and Shinya listen.  "The Lord of Light sent the Mother of Dragons to you, and those who love the darkness chased him away." The Red Priest tells the group.  "Many of the former slaves feel that Mikaela has abandoned them." Shinya says. "He did fly away on a dragon and not come back." Yukimi points out.  "How will you respond? Will you wring your hands, while you wait for the Mother of Dragons to return? Or will you take up his flames yourselves? Will you fight for your own salvation, now that Queen Mikaela is not here to fight for you?" The Red Priest tells the crowd.  "It’s a problem." Shinya says as he and Yukimi head towards the courtyard at the end of the tunnel.  "Fear has brought Meeridan to a standstill. Whoever you are, wherever you go, someone in this city wants to murder you. We can’t fight an enemy we don’t know." Shinya says to Yukimi when they enter the courtyard.  "The Sons of the Harpy planned their attack in the fighting pits very carefully, which means they take orders from someone." Yukimi says.  "And have you started looking for that someone?" Shinya asks.  "My little birds have already taken wing. Soon they’ll return, singing songs of men in gold masks." Yukimi smirks.  Suddenly a shout sounds off as Shinya and Yukimi look towards the open entrance of the courtyard. A bell begins to toll as a flood of people begin to run inside.  Shinya turns back to look at Yukimi before the two move towards where everyone is running from.  The two omega's proceed to the archway and head towards the harbor where everyone seems to be running from.  Shinya and Yukimi's eyes widen when the see a large clout of smoke and hear large screams come from people as they rush away from the harbor.  Shinya and Yukimi both openly gape in shock at the large amount of ships burning in the dock. Smoke coming from the burning wood and leaving a great deal of wreckage when it comes to the numbers in Mika's fleet.  Shinya and Yukimi's faces fall before looks of frustration appear as they realize the Harpy problem in Meeridan is only growing the longer that Mika's gone.  "Well, we won’t be sailing to Westeria anytime soon." Shinya remarks as he and Yukimi watch a large portion of Mika's fleet burn to ashes in the sea.  Shinjuku Countryside - Near the Dothraki Sea In the countryside, Ser Lacus and Shahal ride along grass-covered rocky mountains. They begin to ride further up the mountain before a large black circle filled with bones catches their eyes.  Ser Lacus rides closer as Shahal follows after. The beta man dismounts from his horse as he enters the dark circle and kneels to pick up the charred skull of a ram. Makoton took Mika here that much is clear, but there is not a sign of either of them.  "Goat?" Shahal asks, still mounted.  "Ram." Ser Lacus says simply. "You think our friend got him?" Shahal asks.  "Don’t know anything else that can melt a ram’s horn." Ser Lacus says as he scans the skull.  "We’re on the right path, then." Shahal says, looking around.  Ser Lacus nods before returning to his horse and mounting it.  The two men ride down the mountain countryside.  "Perhaps he’s tired of being queen. I don’t think he likes it very much." Shahal says.  "He’s too smart to like it." Ser Lacus tells Shahal.  "Maybe he’s flown somewhere else, somewhere far away from men like us." Shahal says.  "I’ve been all over the world. There’s no escaping men like us." Ser Lacus says.  "There’s no escaping her, eh?" Shahal asks teasingly, yet tensely with a jealous undertone. "You keep coming back. Why?" "You know why." The beta says.  "Isn’t it frustrating wanting someone who doesn’t want you back?" Shahal asks.  "Of course it is." Ser Lacus says simply.  "You’re a romantic. I admire that. Sometimes I look at you and I think, “So that’s what I’ll be like when I grow old.”" Shahal tells Ser Lacus, mockingly. "If you grow old." Ser Lacus retorts.  "If I grow old." Shahal agrees before continuing, "I hope I do. I want to see what the world looks like when he’s done conquering it." "So do I." Ser Lacus says.  Ser Lacus stops his horse while Shahal continues to slowly pace his head. The beta pulls down the purple sleeve of his shirt to see the advancing patches of greyscale growing more on his arm, it almost covers his entire forearm.  Ser Lacus looks back at Shahal before joining him as they continue to ride down the countryside.  They stop when their eyes fall on something in the grass. Large circular swathes of horse tracks that stretch around the area making the grass black, it surrounds a small circle in the center that remains perfect, green, and untouched.  "Huh, an army?" Shahal asks.  Ser Lacus shakes his head as a realization strikes him, "Not an army. A horde." The two men ride towards the circle. Ser Lacus dismounts to get a closer look as Shahal grabs the reins of his horse.  The beta looks around as he stands in the green circle before his eyes meet Shahal.  "Dothraki?" Shahal asks.  Ser Lacus remains silent before looking down, his eyes fall on something silver right near him.  Ser Lacus kneels and picks up a silver ring with black edgings. On top rests a white pearl.  Ser Lacus' eyes hone in on it with familiar recognition. This is Mika's mother's ring, the one he has always worn since Ser Lacus first met him.  Ser Lacus looks back up at Shahal with worry evident on his face.  "They have him." Ser Lacus says as unease fills him. Shahal sighs and looks around. Ser Lacus closes the ring in his palm and places it in his pocket.    Shinjuku - Dothraki Settlement Camp in the Shinjuku Arid Lands The Dothraki Horde travels together in great numbers inside of the sand-covered pits and valleys.  Mikaela Shindo walks alongside two Dothraki alpha bloodriders. The omega's long, pale blonde hair has grown completely undone and frizzes slightly in the heat of the burning sun. His white dress has turned mostly dark grey with black edges from the amount of dirt he's around. He still has his dragon necklace on him. The omega's hands are tied together. Mika squints his eyes as he tries to avoid getting any sand in them. It's unlucky for him that there's a hole in his path that he stumbles and his step falters causing him to almost trip. The omega catches himself and rises, but he cannot avoid the bloodrider's whip on his back as he curses the omega. The bloodrider laugh as Mika grunts in pain.  The omega looks up at the bloodriders, gritting his teeth in murderous annoyance. The alpha's only laugh at him as they look down superiorly at him.  Mika turns back and keeps his eyes ahead making sure to watch his step as he walks.  "Maybe he saw a ghost. My friend’s mother saw a ghost and her hair turned white." The bloodrider next to Mika tells the other one about him in Dothraki.  Mika can understand every word they're saying and it only adds more fuel to his fury.   "Pink people are afraid of the sun. It burns their skin. This one stands too long in the sun and his hair goes white." The other one mocks about his pale blonde hair.  "You think he’s got white hair down there too? You ever been with an omega with white pussy hair?" The alpha asks the other one.  "Only when I was fucking your grandma." The other one says as the other one chuckles.  They both eye Mika before the one nearest to him makes kissing faces at the omega to get his attention. Mika turns with irritation written on his face.  "I’ll ask Khal Doro for a night with you. What do you think?" The man asks Mika. "Pretty, but he’s an idiot." The other one says as Mika turns his hate-filled gaze onto him.  "He doesn’t have to be smart to get fucked in the ass." The first bloodrider says to the other. Mika looks back ahead and slightly shakes his head at the situation he's found himself in.  "I like to talk when I’m finished. Otherwise, we might as well be dogs." The other one says.  Mika looks back up as they enter into Khal Doro's large camp, fury curdles in his stomach and only grows.  Nagoya - Snowstorm Storm clouds cover the sky surrounding Snowstorm, Hanayori bannermen stand posted outside the castle gates. In the cold room where the Maester performs his healing duties, Ky and Lord Hanayori stand over Sayuri's pale corpse lying on the table before them. The Maester of Snowstorm stands further away from the two.  "She was so sweet when she came out of her mother." Lord Hanayori reminisces mournfully. "A quiet and peaceful child, the maester in the Riverlands had to smack her ass four times before she began to cry. Sayuri always had this way of taking pain." Ky nods bitterly in melancholy. She liked him being rough with her when they fucked, he supposes it makes sense. "I remember I was only five when I first saw her." Lord Hanayori nods. "I brought her to you after her mother died." Ky looks down at her closed eyes, never to open again. "She was so small and smelled like dog. Everyone was already afraid of me by then, but she never was. She told me, "What could I do to her that those hounds couldn’t?" She was fearless. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me." Lord Hanayori grunts in agreement.  Ky places a cold hand onto the omega's forehead, "Your pain will be paid for a thousand times over. I wish you could be here to watch." Ky's eyes begin to water as he looks at the omega he loved for a long time. He feels like he's about to cry, but he holds it in before his father's dead gaze.  "Shall I have a grave dug for her, My Lord? Or would you rather the men build a pyre?" The Maester asks Lord Hanayori.   "Burn her." Lord Hanayori says. "When the bloodsuckers come for us all, I don't want to see her as one." Ky nods before looking back down at Sayuri's beautiful and cold face.  Ky and Lord Hanayori walk down the halls of the castle.  "Your command of the cavalry was impressive. Thanks to you, the holdfast is back under our thumb. Do you know who struck the killing blow?" Lord Hanayori asks.  "No." Ky answers with a slight shake of his head. "A shame. I’d reward the man. Still, a great victory. Do you feel like a victor?" Lord Hanayori asks.  Lord Hanayori stops walking, Ky walks one more pace before stopping and turning back.  Ky stares at his father over his shoulder.  "I rebelled against the crown to arrange your marriage to Shinoa Hiiragi. Do you think that burning wagons in the night and mowing down tired, outnumbered Northerners is the same as facing a prepared and provisioned Hiiragi army?" Lord Hanayori asks Ky testily.  "No." Ky replies unsteadily. Lord Hanayori walks past Ky and enters the Great Hall of Snowstorm.  "A reckoning will come. We need the North to face it. The entire North. They won’t back us without Shinoa Hiiragi. We no longer have Shinoa Hiiragi. You played your games with her. You played your games with the heir to Osaka Bay and now they’re both gone." Lord Hanayori coldly reprimands.  "I have a team of men after them with some of my best hounds. They won’t get far." Ky tells his father.  "I’m glad to hear it. Without Shinoa, you won’t be able to produce an heir. And without an heir, well…" Lord Hanayori trails off as a worried look crosses Ky's face. "...let’s hope the Maesters are right and Lady Wakiru’s carrying a boy." Ky's eyes widen as he watches his father coolly take a seat in front of him. Ky looks down as his father moves to pour himself wine.  Ky gulps slightly and curls his lips inward as he feels an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. His fingernails curl into his rough palm until blood is drawn in crescent-shaped marks.  Nagoya - The Winterwoods Kimizuki leads Shinoa through the Winterwoods as they run frantically from their former home. Snow cushioned their fall and they only have minor pain, but they know that they have to keep going otherwise Ky will catch them. They run through the forest of naked snow and ice-covered trees. The cold weaken their strengths as it consumes them.  Shinoa huffs breaths as she runs through while struggling to follow after the alpha. She stops and begins to heave breaths, feeling herself unable to continue.  Kimizuki stops and runs back before grabbing her arm to pull her onward, "Come on, let's go." Shinoa tires as they hear the sound of barking dogs in the distance which only motivates Kimizuki more.  "We can’t stop." Kimizuki tells her as they continue to run.  They come out of a large clearing where a large snowy river flows with water.  Kimizuki stops as they reach the large and slightly shallow body of water, Shinoa stops when he does.  "We have to cross here." Kimizuki tells her.  Shinoa moves to step onto a patch, only for it to be thin ice. Her boot sinks into the water and she can even feel the coldness of it through her boot as she quickly pulls it out.  "I can’t." The omega shakes her head.  "It’s the only way to throw off the hounds." Kimizuki says before grabbing her arm to pull her.  Shinoa remains steadfast as she meets Kimizuki's reddish-brown gaze, "But it’s too cold. I can’t. I won’t make it. I’ll die." "I’ve seen what his hounds do to a person. This way is better." Kimizuki tells her with a firm and frozen grip on her cloak.  Shinoa contemplates this as she huffs chilled breaths.  Kimizuki puts his feet in the water, yet ignores the coldness. He gently guides Shinoa into the water.  Once the omega's legs enter the water, her breaths grow more labored as the cold inside of her intensifies.  Kimizuki pulls her along, keeping his face stoic and trying to ignore the coldness. Shinoa gasps at the cold of the icy river with every breath she takes as the two wade through the body of water together.  Kimizuki leads Shinoa out of the water and onto the other side of the snow-covered woods. The alpha and omega are both blue with coldness, but they can no longer hear the barking of the hounds.  Kimizuki grabs Shinoa's arm to help her as she heaves breaths.  Kimizuki looks up and his eyes widen when they fall on something in the distance.  Kimizuki grabs Shinoa's arm, "Over here. Come on."  Shinoa struggles and her breaths grow weaker as she lets Kimizuki lead her.  Kimizuki makes his way towards a large overturned tree. The roots big enough to function as a small cave and shelter the two from snow. Kimizuki runs back to where Shinoa struggles behind him and wraps an arm around her shoulders as he guides her to sit under the large tree.  Shinoa sits there while Kimizuki watches her with worry and wariness beside her. They both shiver, but Shinoa does to a larger extent while panting breaths.  "Shinoa. Shinoa." Kimizuki tries to get the omega's attention, but she remains dazed as she looks ahead of her.  Kimizuki watches her in slight contemplation before he wraps the omega in his embrace. He rubs Shinoa's back as she rests her head on his shoulder.  Shinoa feels at peace in her Kimizuki's arms, more than she has felt in such a long time. The same goes for Kimizuki who is glad to embrace the omega. The two were the most distant siblings from each other when they were growing up. But, now when they are uncertain about where they'll end up, they can't help but feel the most comfort either have felt in such a long time. Shinoa closes her eyes as she leans into the alpha's embrace and soothing stronger scent. Kimizuki feels calmer with Shinoa's sweet floral scent and closes his eyes. Both are so exhausted and are glad to be together with each other as themselves. They sit like this for a few moments before the sound of barking in the distance and coming closer causes Shinoa's eyes to jump open.  Shinoa pulls away as Kimizuki opens his eyes and quickly turns around as the sound of Hanayori men shouting catches his attention.  "Stay here. I’ll lure them away." Kimizuki tells his sister.  The alpha rises, but Shinoa grabs her brother's arm.  "No, I won’t make it without you." Shinoa says.  "You will." Kimizuki says before leaning his face down, "Go west and remain only north. Yuu is Lord Commander at Ikebukuro. He’ll help you." Shinoa's breaths grow more silent as she stares at Kimizuki's reddish-brown gaze. Kimizuki looks at his sister in melancholy, knowing this may very well be his last stand.  The alpha stands and runs out from behind the tree. He runs down towards the entrance to the path that he hears the barks of the hounds coming from.  Immediately as he reaches the entrance, Kimizuki is stopped by five Hanayori men. Four are on horses and one stand before him with two barking hounds.  "Where is Lady Hanayori?" The lead alpha Hanayori guard asks Kimizuki from his horse.  Kimizuki looks down at the hounds before saying, "Dead." "Liar." The lead guard sneers at him darkly.  Shinoa curls herself further into the roots of the tree to stay hidden as she hears the exchange behind her. "She broke her leg jumping from the ramparts. I left her to die in the snow." Kimizuki tells the guard.  The hounds bark and charge in a direction, but the guards pull them back. Kimizuku shifts his eyes nervously, the guard with the hound catches him doing so. The guard takes it as his cue to loosen his grip on the hounds so that they can lead him towards where Shinoa's scent is at.  The guards on horseback follow closely behind as Kimizuki rushes to head back to the fallen tree.  Shinoa curls in as the men circle the path towards the tree, the hounds bark as they finally find their target. Shinoa curls under the tree from the hounds when they try to jump at her before they are pulled back by the guards.  Kimizuki reaches back next to her as the men all look at the two. Shinoa cowers from the barking hounds.  The lead guard meets Kimizuki's eyes before telling the alpha, "I can’t wait to see what parts Ky cuts off you this time." Kimizuki looks back as one of the men have dismounted from their horse and begun to grab Shinoa, trying to pull her to her feet. Shinoa grunts and tries to get out of his hold as he gets her to stand.  Suddenly, the sound of a horse whinnying causes all action to stop amongst the two parties.  Kimizuki looks back as the sound of two more horses come into his sight. The lead guard draws his sword as Aoi charges him with her sword on horseback.  "It's a fucking woman." The lead guard says before Aoi slices him across the throat with her sword causing him to get knocked off of his horse.  His corpse hits the ground with a splattering of blood.  Shinoa's eyes widen as Junji charges one of the men on horseback. Both begin to clash swords and trade blows.  Aoi rides past before turning back. Two men on horseback engage her. Aoi dodges the strike of one man as they charge each other. The other man directly behind her hits her harshly on her chest armor causing her to fall off of her horse.  Aoi falls on the ground with a thud as Shinoa glances at her in recognition and shock. Kimizuki looks around at the fighting going on around them.  Aoi rolls over as the man who knocked her over dismounts from his horse. Shinoa gasps and bristles.  Aoi grabs her sword as the man approaches her before rolling over to dodge a kick. She rises and parries the man. They both trade blows as their swords clang before Aoi goes right when he swings heavily down on her left. She dodges and slashes across his back. The man falls to his knees before Aoi comes around and cuts his throat with a shout. The man's corpse falls to the ground as blood pours on the icy snow.  Junji continues to engage his guard. The other man on horseback neighs his steed loudly to catch Aoi's attention.  Aoi turns as the man charges her. She spins around to dodge his swing while slicing him in the side with her sword causing him to fall off with the horse landing on top of his legs.  Kimizuki turns to see Junji still fighting the same man. The beta still continues to trade blows with the other one. Kimizuki looks around before his eyes fall on a sword a few feet away. Kimizuki picks it up without alerting the guard holding the hounds. He is uncertain of his skill considering he has not used a sword in such a long time, but he'll do what he can to protect Shinoa.  Junji finally gets an opening and stabs the beta in the stomach. He impales the other man causing them both to fall off of their horses as Junji pulls out his blood-covered sword.  The man that Aoi knocked off the horse struggle to get his leg out from under the horse. The last man ties the hounds to a tree before drawing his sword on Junji. He rises as the alpha man comes toward him. Junji dodges and pulls back when the man swings wide.  Aoi's eyes fall on the man struggling under the horse and she crawls towards him.  "No, please!" The man begs when she gets close enough.  Aoi grabs his knife from its holster before slitting his throat. The alpha woman sits back and pants tiredly.  Junji and the man continue to fight each other. The man swings his sword strongly when Junji cannot parry and the sword is knocked out of the beta's hand while he also loses his balance. Junji lands on the ground and his sword is far away from them.  Junji backs away from the man as he hones in on him and comes closer towards him.  The man raises his sword to strike him before Kimizuki enters the sword right through his throat. The man's corpse falls to the ground next to Junji who looks up at Kimizuki. Kimizuki glares with hatred and vengeance at the fallen Hanayori man he's just killed.  Junji stands while Shinoa gapes at the fight and carnage before her.  Aoi makes her way towards her and stands at a distance across from her.  Shinoa rises unsteadily as Kimizuki runs to stand next to her protectively.  Junji similarly moves to stand with Aoi.   Aoi and Shinoa look and study each other, seeing how the other has changed since the last time they saw each other on the night of the Battle of Bluewater. Aoi notices that the omega is still very petite despite having grown taller. She sees how Shinoa's face looks more mature and world-weary, yet still childish. A beautiful young omega woman that has grown from the naïve omega girl she last saw in Shibuya.  Shinoa also notices that the woman has not changed much in terms of size and looks. Her face looks more worn and tired, like she's just done with all of the world. She is still rather pretty, yet rough looking. Her fight moves are jerkier, despite still being excellent, meaning she might be healing from other wounds.  Aoi takes the first step forward with her sword turned so that she holds the end of the blade in her right hand and the hilt in her left one. The alpha lays the sword at Shinoa's feet before kneeling before her. "Lady Shinoa, I offer my services once again. I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new." Aoi says as she looks up at the omega. She knows this is the only way to speak to the omega so that she will let Aoi protect her and she means what she says.   Kimizuki looks at her quizzically, clearly someone that Shinoa knows. The omega looks at her alpha brother for confirmation. Kimizuki gives her a nod that he has no problem, the two of them did just save Shinoa and him. They can clearly trust what she says to them and Shinoa seems to. Shinoa looks back down at her and nods, "And I vow...that you shall always have a place by my hearth and..." The omega trails off, not remembering the rest.  "Meat and mead at my table." Junji finishes helpfully.  "Meat and mead at my table." Shinoa finishes quickly before speaking up again, "And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise, Lady Aoi Sanguu." Kimizuki's eyes widen at the last name, so that's Mitsu's sister. He should have been able to tell with one look, but he can see where she got her fighter spirit from.  Aoi rises to stand in front of Shinoa. Shinoa's parted lips slowly form into a small smile as Aoi's lips form a ghost of one.  Nagoya - The Nightfort Ako and Chihiro wheel Yoichi on top of the wagon as the omega looks up at the Nightfort castle before them.  This will be the first time in two years that he won't be beyond the wall, he'll be back home in Westeria.  "Well, it looks to have barely changed since we were last here." Yoichi says.  "We're the ones who changed, especially in numbers." Chihiro says.  A tense and sad silence overtakes the group of three.  "Hopefully, it's still abandoned." Ako says, deciding they should not waste any more time out in the cold.  "It's been abandoned for a long time, and it will continue to be." Yoichi says.  The three look up at the fortress as black as the night sky.  Ako starts a fire while Yoichi sits nearby in contemplation. Chihiro has gone to gather more wood to keep as kindling for the fire. When Chihiro arrives back with a snow rabbit and wood, Ako has already gotten the fire started for them to warm themselves by.  "You found dinner?" Yoichi asks.  "Yes, little Lord." Chihiro says. The beta woman moves to skin and cook the rabbit while Yoichi watches her do so. Ako cleans her dagger near the light of the fire.  "When we go back to Westeria, we are not going to Snowstorm or Ikebukuro." Yoichi says.  Chihiro looks up at him in annoyance, "But, your brother is at Ikebukuro. I can understand Snowstorm, but your family is at Ikebukuro. He can keep you safe and give you protection." "We can't go there, not yet." Yoichi starts. "I saw something in my vision." "What did you see?" Ako asks. Yoichi looks at them and contemplates for a moment before telling them, "I can't tell you both. It's something that must remain a secret, but I need to find proof that would completely answer all of the questions about this secret with complete certainty, I cannot tell you any more about it than what I've just." "Where would we have to go?" Chihiro sternly asks Yoichi.  Yoichi tenses before saying, "For what I need to see, we would have to go to the Citadel in Wisetown." Yoichi has to find out the truth about Tenri Hiiragi's child and relationship with that whore. The only place that would have record evidence is the Citadel.  Chihiro and Ako take that in as Yoichi decides to continue.  "You both would be safe there, it's the home of Maesters." Yoichi tells them, "House Saotome has the ability to sway them to do their bidding because our House is renowned for creating Maesters." "How far would it be?" Ako asks.  "The center of Westeria." Yoichi says. "More towards the Westerlands than the Riverlands." Yoichi looks at the two before Ako pipes up after a moment of contemplation.  "I'll take you." Ako says.  Chihiro openly gapes at her.  "He's the Three-Eyed Raven now and that comes with responsibilities." Ako tells Chihiro before looking at Yoichi, "If this is what he has to do to carry out his duties as the Three-Eyed Raven, then I'll help any way I can." Chihiro looks uncertain when she nods, "We've carried you this far, there's no chance of us ever being at peace until you're safe with your family." Yoichi nods. "If I find what I'm looking for at the Citadel and I'm pretty certain I will, then wherever my family is at will be where I'm be going next. I swear it on the old gods and the new."  Chihiro nods her consent.  "Though before we go to the Citadel, there is one place before Wisetown I have to go to." Yoichi says. "You both will be completely safe there, even more so than the Citadel." Both Ako and Chihiro give him curious looks that tell him to continue.    "I'm going to Hawkhill Castle, the castle of House Saotome." Yoichi says. "I want to meet my family by blood before I return to my family by choice." Ako and Chihiro nod their assent.  "Thank you both for being here and protecting me all this time." Yoichi says gratefully to the two beta women.  They smile at him.  Yoichi nods to them as his thoughts drift towards returning to a place that he hasn't been to since he was born. He's going to his home.   Ikebukuro The morning light of the sunrise begins to fill the dark night sky of Ikebukuro. The snow-covered roofs emphasize the black castle's darkness as fog fills the air around the courtyard. Asu howls in the night from his cage.  In the same spot as before in the corner of the courtyard, Yuuichirou Amane's corpse lies in the snow. A pool of blood covers the white snow while a cross with the words, "TRAITOR" written on it is planted in the dirt behind the former Lord Commander and Warden of the North.  Yuu's green eyes are open and his skin pale, it almost looks as though his lifeless body were looking up at the sky.  Inside of his pen nearby, Asu stands on his hind legs and howls louder while pushing against the door to his pen.  Ser Kouta sits in his chambers awake before the growing sound of howling catches his attention.  Ser Kouta exits his chambers and goes out to stand on the stairway in the courtyard. The beta man looks around before his eyes fall on someone's corpse lying in the snow all the way across the courtyard.  Ser Kouta quickly descends the steps as he runs towards the patch of bloody snow. His eyes pick up on the indigo-black hair that looks so familiar to him.  Ser Kouta stops when he realizes who is dead on the ground before slowly making his way towards him while gaping.  Other brothers begin to approach after hearing the howls of Asu.  Ser Kouta kneels down in shock as he takes in the sight of Yuu's pale corpse.  "It’s the Lord Commander!" One of the brothers shout in shock.  Ser Kouta looks up and sees the cross and immediately knows who did this.  Tadayo runs to the front of the pack of four brothers of the Watch. He stops short when he sees Yuu on the ground.  "Help me get him inside." Ser Kouta tells the men before moving back to let them pick up Yuu's body.  Tadayo watches in shock before going with the men as they carry Yuu towards the room. Ser Kouta looks back at the remaining pool of blood in the snow, just staring at it.  When the sun has just fully risen, the shouts of guards sound off as Kusunoki emerges from the stairwell and enters the courtyard.  "OPEN THE GATES!"  "OPEN THE GATES!" "Who the fuck is it?" Kusunoki calls out from the bottom of the gates.  The old guard turns to see Kusunoki and more men coming to stand behind him in curiosity.  "It's Lord Ichinose." The older guard says in shock as he says it.  "What the fuck are you getting at?" Kusunoki shouts, thinking he's being messed with. "The fucker's dead."  "No, Ser Kusunoki." The old guard says sincerely. "He's outside." Kusunoki's eyes widen in shock before giving the order out of curiosity and certainty that Guren Ichinose won't be behind those gates, "OPEN THE GATES!" The gates open and Guren Ichinose rides through the gates of Ikebukuro on a brown horse. He wears a dark black cloak and his indigo hair is slicked back. His violet eyes meet Kusunoki's shocked and gaping gaze. The alpha wears dark slacks, a black doublet, and black riding boots. His face looks mature and still very handsome, despite age taking its toll on him. Mito watches from the top of the stairs.  "Lord Ichinose." Kusunoki says, gaping like a fish. "We thought you died in the capital." Guren stops his horse and dismounts to greet the beta. As a large group of men begin to join the two others.  "I didn't." Guren simply says, looking around for Yuu. "I escaped and hid in Shinjuku for four years, then I came back when I heard that my son no longer holds Snowstorm and that all of you escaped to Ikebukuro. I'm here to get back House Ichinose's home."  Kusunoki can only stare at Guren as he says this, in complete shock that the man still lives after all this time where everyone in Westeria thought he was dead. Many of the men look at Guren in awe and reverence as he stands before them.  "Where is he?" Guren asks. "Where's Yuu?" Kusunoki tenses and stiffens because Guren could kill him with one swing of his sword.  Kusunoki places a false somber expression on his face as he looks down before meeting Guren's eyes, "Your bastard, he died." Guren's eyes widen as a rage and melancholy both fill him. "You're lying to me." "I wish I were, My Lord." Kusunoki tells Guren sadly. "How long ago?" Guren asks.  "Not even three days have passed since he died." Kusunoki says. "We only found out the day before today."  Guren now gapes in horror and despair. "How did it happen?" Kusunoki meets his gaze and sighs before telling him, "Let's go to the mess hall so that I can tell all of the men how their Lord Commander died." Kusunoki walks past Guren and leads him towards the familiar mess hall of Ikebukuro.    Guren's eyes fall on something as he moves to follow behind the men while looking around the courtyard.  He sees the word, "TRAITOR" written on a cross before his eyes move slightly downward to find a pool of blood in the snow.  A pang of suspicion fills Guren as he looks back at Kusunoki before entering the mess hall. Tadayo clears off the scrolls on Yuu's table in the Lord Commander chambers. The brothers lay Yuu's cold body onto the table.  Seishi enters the room with Haruki and his baby in tow. The beta gasps and stutters at the sight of Yuu's corpse as tears bubble in his eyes.  Seishi places his hand on Yuu stab wounds and getting his fingers stained red with his cool blood. He closes Yuu's eyes shit with his other hand.  Ser Kouta and Tadayo watch in sadness.  "Kusunoki did this." Seishi says darkly.  "How many brothers do you think we can trust?" Ser Kouta asks Tadayo and Seishi.  "Trust? The men in this room." Tadayo says.  "Does the wolf know you?" Ser Kouta asks.  Seishi nods, wiping his eyes as Haruki comforts him while holding his child.  "We need all the help we can get." Ser Kouta tells Seishi.  Seishi nods and moves towards the door to get Asu. He is about to open it before a knock comes from it.  The brothers inside draw their blades. The room tenses.   "Who is it?" Ser Kouta asks.  "Ser Kouta." Mito's muffled voice says through the thick, wooden door.  Tadayo and Seishi return their gaze to Ser Kouta for his consent. Ser Kouta nods as the men replace their swords.  Seishi moves to open the door.  Mito stands outside in her red cloaked dress, her matching hair done in a bun.  Mito enters as she takes in the sight of the brothers in the room. Seishi exits to go get Asu when Mito passes.  Mito's eyes widen when they fall Yuu's corpse, she looks distressed at the sight.  The omega moves closer to the alpha man on the table, coming to stand next to Ser Kouta. Mito moves forward, staring at his wounds before her eyes land on his face. "I saw him in the flames, fighting at Snowstorm." Mito says, at a loss for words.  "I can’t speak for the flames, but he’s gone." Ser Kouta tells Mito.  Mito brings her warm hand up and rubs his cold cheek with the back of her knuckles as she stares down at him.  "His father, he's here." Mito says.  Ser Kouta looks up as Mito meets his gaze.  "His father is dead." Ser Kouta says in confusion.  "No, he lives and he needs to see this." Mito says. "The men took Guren Ichinose into the mess hall." "YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?!?!" Guren shouts in anger to Kusunoki as he stands before the beta sitting at the head table on the platform where the Lord Commander would sit. Anger, hatred, and rage etched on the alpha's face.  Uproars sound along the crowd as everyone shouts at one another in the mess hall after Kusunoki has told everyone that he has murdered Yuu.  "He was our Lord Commander!" A younger brother shouts.  "He never should have been!" Another older brother with Kusunoki shouts.  Guren only meets the beta's eyes with a murderous glare, ready to pounce on him to end his existence.  Kusunoki slowly rises and pounds his fist harshly three times on the table and the room quiets down as they look at the blonde man that stands elevated above them.  "You all know why you’re here. Yuuichirou Amane is dead." Kusunoki says.  "Who all killed him?" An elder brother asks.  "I did." Kusunoki says as Guren grinds his teeth to keep his composure. "And Boward and Othellian and the other officers in this castle." Kusunoki says.  Guren closes his gloved hands into fists to try to restrain himself.  "Murderers!"  "Traitors!" "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Guren growls, "I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT A SHIT YOU ARE, BUT I NEVER TOOK YOU FOR A TREASONOUS CUNT!" Banko moves to stand alongside Kusunoki at the high table as the shouting resumes. Kusunoki pounds on the high table three times to get their attention. "You’re right!" Kusunoki shouts his eyes meeting Guren's head on. "We’ve committed treason, all of us. Yuuichirou Amane was my Lord Commander. I had no love for him, you all know this. It was no secret. But I never once disobeyed an order. Loyalty is the foundation on which the Night's Watch is built, and the Watch means everything to me. I have given my life, we have all given our lives to the Night’s Watch. Yuuichirou Amane was going to destroy the Night’s Watch. He let the Wild Ones through our gates, as no Lord Commander has ever done before. He gave them the very land on which they raped and murdered. Lord Commander Amane did what he thought was right, I’ve no doubt about that. And what he thought was right would have been the end of us. He thrust a terrible choice upon us, and we made it." "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Guren growls out again. "I am the Warden of the North, I have the power here!" Murmurs of equal balance between agreement and disagreement go off around the crowd in the mess hall.  "No, Lord Ichinose." Kusunoki sneers down at Guren, "You are not, you were five years ago, but not anymore. The true Warden of the North is Shoya Hanayori. You have no power here and we could kill you to make sure you stay dead, finish the job for the Hiiragi's. You left Nagoya in your bastard's hands and he lost it. We were all forced to come here. You hold as much blame as him for why we're here, if not more." Murmurs of agreement with Kusunoki grow more around the room as Guren looks around to find the support of his men decreasing.   Around half it seems willingly side with Kusunoki while the other half unwillingly cannot argue with him.  "Now, Lord Ichinose." Kusunoki says. "You are welcome to stay here at our mercy as another brother of the Night's Watch. If you act in any way that I do not like, we'll send you to meet your bastard." Guren growls and grits his teeth at having his hands tied before stomping out of the mess hall. Ser Kouta makes his way out of the Lord Commander's chambers into the morning light of the courtyard. The beta's eyes scan around the empty courtyard. He still sees the empty pool of blood with the cross in front of it and in front of the puddle, an alpha man looks down. He has a murderous look of hatred on his face that is coupled with mournful eyes that look like they're about to water.  He looks the spitting image of Yuuichirou, especially with that angry look etched on his alpha face. He has slicked back indigo-black hair with violet eyes.  Ser Kouta breathes out a gasp before making his way towards Guren Ichinose.  Guren is looking down at the puddle of his son's blood with the word, "TRAITOR," written on the cross behind it.  "Idiot Yuu, what did you get yourself into?" Guren asks in despair to himself.  "Lord Ichinose." An unfamiliar voice says from behind him.  Guren growls as he turns, ready to kill the brother for interrupting his moment of grieving.  He takes in the beta's kind dark brown eyes and medium length black hair.  "What do you fucking want?" Guren asks roughly.  "I have the Lord Commander's body in his chambers." Ser Kouta tells Guren.  Guren's eyes widen.  "Would you like to see him?" Ser Kouta asks Guren.  Guren studies the young beta wondering if this is a possible ploy to get him to follow him to his death. But, it's not like Guren has much to lose any more anyway. He could easily cut down ten of these brothers with barely a scratch, if he needed to.  Guren nods his assent as Ser Kouta begins to lead him. Ser Kouta gestures a hand into the Lord Commander's chambers, indicating Guren should enter first when the door opened for them.  Guren glances at him warily before entering through the open door as he sees a brother put his sword away.  Guren sees a beta standing by Yuu, an omega with a child seated on the crate, and an alpha staring him down. Five other Watch brothers stand behind the alpha.  Guren's eyes fall on the familiar wolf with red eyes nudging Yuu's large hand, hoping the alpha wakes up. When he doesn't move, she whimpers sadly.   He feels a bit of nostalgia and relief at seeing Asu so close and watching over Yuu because he couldn't. Direwolves are like that with their masters.  Guren makes his way towards his son. His footsteps feel heavy as he takes each step. Guren finally looks down at the cold and dead corpse of his son. Yuuichirou has definitely grown taller since he last saw him. The alpha now taller than him. Yuu has slight stubble on his face and the childish features of his face have almost gone away to fill out more handsomely. He has also filled out in his body with more muscles and broad shoulders. The one thing Guren is grateful for is that he has the same bird's nest of black hair on top of his head that he always did. His alpha boy had become an alpha man while he was gone. He missed it all. Guren feels his eyes water at the thought of never seeing Yuu open his emerald eyes and gaze at him. Dying before never seeing his father again. A large pang of regret hits Guren as he allows the tears to pour over.   "Who the fuck is that?" Tadayo asks Ser Kouta.  "That is Lord Guren Ichinose." Ser Kouta says from behind Guren.  "Yuu's father?" Seishi asks curiously, "I thought he was-" "Dead." Guren finishes, glancing back at them. "I never was, though everyone had to think I was for a long time. I only hoped I could make it back before any of my children died." Guren looks back at his son as the others look at him in shock, awe, and unease.  "Kusunoki has made it official now. Ikebukuro is his." Guren says as Asu comes to nuzzle his gloved palm. Guren rubs the wolf's head.   Ser Kouta looks back at him before meeting Tadayo's gaze.  "He’ll have seen we didn’t come." Ser Kouta says.  "I don’t care who’s sitting at the high table. The Lord Commander was our friend, and those fuckers butchered him. Now we return the favor." Tadayo says with a slight growl.  "We don’t have the numbers." Seishi says simply.  "Kusunoki intimidated even those who hate him onto his side." Guren says before muttering to himself. "I never should have left Snowstorm." "We have a direwolf." Tadayo points out.  "It’s not enough. I didn’t know Lord Commander Amane for long, but I have to believe he wouldn’t have wanted his friends to die for nothing." Ser Kouta tells them all.  "If you were planning to see tomorrow, you picked the wrong room. We all die today. I say we do our best to take Kusunoki with us when we go." Tadayo retorts.  "We need to fight, but we don’t need to die. Not if we have help." Seishi says.  "We don't exactly have much help here." Guren points out. "Who else is left?" Ser Kouta's eyes widen in realization when the answer hits him. "We’re not the only ones who owe our lives to Yuuichirou Amane." Seishi's eyes light up as he gets it before it hits Tadayo, as well. "Who is it?" Guren asks in confusion.  "The Wild Ones." Seishi says. "They owe the Lord Commander more than anyone." "I remember Kusunoki mentioning something about that in the mess hall. But, can we trust them?" Guren asks in hesitance. "They are Wild Ones." "Lord Ichinose the situation with the Wild Ones has changed very much since you were last here." Seishi says. "The Lord Commander saved them all from certain death." "Okay." Guren nods his assent. "Not like we have much other option left." "Seishi, come with me." Tadayo says as he heads towards the door. "We'll bring the army." Seishi kisses Haruki on the forehead before following after Tadayo.  "We'll be back as soon as we can." Seishi says.  The two men leave the room with Ser Kouta, Haruki, Little Seishi, Asu, and Guren left behind among the five Watch brothers.  "Bolt the door. Don’t let anyone in." Guren tells Ser Kouta.  Ser Kouta nods and moves to action. Guren tenses in the room before turning to Haruki. "We're going to be in here for a long time." Guren says, taking a seat next to Yuu's body as Asu sits beside him. Guren pets the wolf with a sad smirk.   Haruki nods tensely as he holds Little Seishi tighter. It is late afternoon by the time Kusunoki finally engages them.  Men stand outside around the courtyard with swords drawn and crossbows pointed at the locked Lord Commander chambers. Seishi and Tadayo have already managed to sneak out with two other men behind them.  Kusunoki cloaked in a black feather cloak ascends the stairs with three senior officers behind him.  The beta enters the hallway before standing in front of the door and knocking tree times on it.  Ser Kouta and Guren look at each other. The alpha's hands moving towards his sword while the other five brothers have already risen to draw their ones. Ser Kouta and Lord Guren stand near the door while Asu growls at it.  "Lord Ichinose. Ser Kouta. We have no cause to fight. We are all disgraced men with no honor left." Kusunoki says through the thick door.  "Hear that, men? Nothing to fear." Guren tells the men behind him.  "I will grant amnesty to all brothers who thrown down their arms before nightfall. As for you two, Ser Kouta and Lord Ichinose, I will allow you to travel south, a free men with a fresh horse." Kusunoki says.  "And some mutton. I’d like some mutton." Ser Kouta says. "What?" Kusunoki asks in confusion. "I’m not much of a hunter. I’ll need some food if I’m gonna make it south without starving." Ser Kouta says. Guren picks up on what the beta is doing.  "We’ll give you food. You can even bring the Red Woman and that omega in there with you if you like. Or you can leave them here with us, whichever you choose. But surrender by nightfall or this ends with blood." Kusunoki tells him.  "Thank you, Ser Kusunoki. We’ll discuss amongst ourselves and come back to you with an answer." Ser Kouta says.  Kusunoki sneers silently before turning on his heel and stomping away. Guren and Ser Kouta hear the sound of loud footsteps going further away from the room. When they're gone completely Guren and Ser Kouta turn to face the other men.  "Boys, I’ve been running from men like that all my life. In my learned opinion, we open that door-" Ser Kouta says.  "And they’ll slaughter us all." Guren finishes in agreement.  "They want to come in, they’re gonna come in." Haruki says.  "Aye, but we don’t need to make it easy for them." Guren says.  "Seishi and Tadayo are our only chance." One of the brother's with them says.  "It’s a sad fucking statement if Tadayo is our only chance." Another brother jests.  "There’s always the Red Woman." Ser Kouta brings up. "What’s one redhead gonna do against forty armed men?" Guren asks.  "You haven’t seen her do what I’ve seen her do." Ser Kouta tells Guren definitively. Mito sits in her chambers near the comforting warmth of the fireplace. Her red hair is in a single thick braid going down her back and she is only in her red dress with her red necklace.  The omega runs her left hand over the smooth skin of her right arm. Mito looks up and her eyes land on a mirror.  Mito comes to stand in front of the mirror, the reflection of her youthful face staring back at her with something painful in her purple eyes.  Mito braces herself as she slowly unties the ribbon around her dress before unhooking the clasp that keeps it closed.  The omega opens the gown to reveal her naked form. Her naked breasts and vulva are revealed as the omega lets the gown fall to the ground.  Mito looks at herself, the necklace still around her neck. She takes in the sight of her pale and perky breasts. Their rounded pink nipples. She looks downward at her bright red pubic hair. There is not a wrinkle on this omega's body. She looks at herself with pity and despair in her eyes, almost ruefully studying her youth.  The closes her eyes before bringing her hands up towards her red jewel in the center of the cage necklace glimmers before she unhooks it around her neck. She sets it gently down onto the table beside her.  When the omega opens her eyes, her true form is revealed in the dim candle light. The reflection that looks back at Mito now is that of an extremely old lady. Her head is almost bald with a thin layer of grey, stringy hair that covers her scalp, yet goes down past her shoulders. Her vulva is now covered with a small amount of grey pubic hair. The omega's breasts are sagging on her stomach. Her violet eyes cold and dead. Wrinkles cover every part of her body. Pale skin and stomach fat accumulate on her abdomen. She can barely stand straight, almost like a hunchback. Her face old and aged almost deathly. Her backbone visible through her skin.  Mito stares coldly at her true self in the mirror before she turns back and heads towards her bed. The omega pulls the thick brown furs up before crawling under the covers and pulling them up so that it covers her entirely in darkness.  

The woodshed finds itself mysteriously filled sometime in the week following Mu Qingfang, Liu Qingge, Shen Qingqiu, and Luo Binghe’s return to Cang Qiong, and thereafter stays filled no matter how much wood Mu Qingfang burns to boil water. Not long after, the larder is supplemented by some beasts the older Bai Zhan disciples had managed to hunt with their Shifu in a last-minute night hunt on Mount Yu Jun. The only reason Mu Qingfang even elected to keep their quarry was because some of the organs of the yao they’d hunted had strong medicinal capabilities that Mu Qingfang couldn’t bear to waste. Perhaps a week after that, Liu Qingge comes bearing an armload of tools and a small army of Bai Zhan peak students to fix various things around the peak. While Mu Qingfang certainly is grateful for the help, he tugs Liu Qingge aside after he’s gotten down from the younger disciples’ dormitory roof and demands answers. Liu Qingge’s brows tug down in a frown when he asks, “Are you dissatisfied, Mu Qingfang?” Ah. So he’s back to names, then is the first thing that comes to Mu Qingfang’s mind, and he immediately feels a bit guilty about it. “No, I’m not dissatisfied in the least but - I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” he asks, glancing over at a few Bai Zhan disciples who are walking and chatting alongside some of his Qian Cao disciples. It’s comfortable and friendly in a way that doesn’t come so easily to the rowdy Bai Zhan kids - though perhaps familiarity and cooperation had eased some of their relations. Liu Qingge freezes up at that, an oddly guilty look on his face. So perhaps he wasn’t supposed to hear what he’d said that night, all those weeks ago. “I - W-We -” he coughs and clears his throat, pulling his shoulders back and trying to regain composure. “Bai Zhan peak has long inconvenienced Qian Cao. After consulting a few of the other peak lords -” that must mean Shen Qingqiu , Mu Qingfang thinks wryly - “I decided as Peak Lord that it is time we began to repay our dues.” Mu Qingfang can’t help it - he snorts. Wielding his finger like a weapon, he pokes it straight into the center of Liu Qingge’s chest and says, “If you want to repay your dues, you can start by following the advice I give you every time you visit .” Liu Qingge stares down at the offending finger and blinks up at Mu Qingfang. Of course , Mu Qingfang thinks, of course he’s forgotten the one thing I’ve ever asked for . “ Train your students . Stay on your peak for more than a few days at a time! Give them your attention! Teach them some discipline!” he says, with the same firm authority he uses when he’s ordering his disciples around in the clinic. Liu Qingge practically flinches back with every word coming out of Mu Qingfang’s mouth, and he almost wants to laugh. “You’ve been a good help these past few weeks, but these are all things we can handle on our own, with time.” Mu Qingfang says. “If you want to help, stay and be a proper peak lord.” Mu Qingfang probably hasn’t ever seen Liu Qingge look so young and unsure. It'd be a little funny, if it weren't kind of sad for the Bai Zhan disciples. With a long sigh, Mu Qingfang pats his shoulder and says, “It’s not as hard as you think it is. Even Shen Qingqiu managed to get better at it, somehow.” Liu Qingge makes a complicated face and bows his head. “...I understand,” he says, after a long moment. Seeing the way his proud shoulders slump just the tiniest bit, Mu Qingfang pats Liu Qingge’s shoulder again. With as reassuring a smile as he can muster, he says, “Come on. Gather up your disciples. It’s nearly dinner; we’ll eat in the mess hall before you go.” Liu Qingge is downright docile as he follows after, though as more and more of their disciples gather, his demeanor returns to its usual prideful posturing. As the number of Bai Zhan disciples increases, as does the number of behaviors - it’s not an especially long walk down to the mess hall, but Mu Qingfang already notices Liu Qingge’s students pushing and shoving one another, playing around and scrambling to show off in front of their impassive Shifu. On the other hand, the Qian Cao disciples who are steering clear of the mass of Bai Zhan disciples walk at a quick, purposeful clip. Most of them go alone, or in groups of two’s and three’s, either tired from a long day of treating patients, braindead from Yi Qingzhi’s extensive lessons, or coming off the leisure of their day off, dreading the bone-aching exhaustion waiting for them tomorrow. Liu Qingge keeps his gaze forward, but Mu Qingfang knows he’s curiously observing the difference in their disciples’ demeanors. There’s a line coming out of the mess doors - not unusual, given that it’s the dinner rush and there’s an unexpected excess of students - and Mu Qingfang is content to wait. While his students quietly grumble to themselves and wait more or less patiently in line, Liu Qingge’s students become more and more agitated with each passing minute. Once or twice, he hears a few complaints, which are silenced by a sharp glare from Liu Qingge, but they keep cropping up. Once they’ve gotten maybe a few feet from the entrance, Mu Qingfang hears a muffled yelp and then all of a sudden, yelling and jeering breaks out. Liu Qingge is the first to move, stepping towards the cluster of students making space for the fight, but it’s Mu Qingfang, sharp voice echoing like a cracking whip, that gets the crowd to pause. “Tan Mingyuan, you let go of that girl right this second and come here,” he all but snarls, and in the gaps between the onlooking students, he sees Tan Mingyuan drop his hands immediately. Only vaguely is he aware of the intimidated oooh 's of the nearby students. The girl he’s fighting with still keeps her hand fisted in his shirt, refusing to let go until she sees Liu Qingge’s sharp glare. Once she lets go, Tan Mingyuan immediately trudges over to Mu Qingfang, his lips twisted together in unvoiced protest. Oh dear. His cheek is definitely going to bruise. But Mu Qingfang keeps his face level and stares down at Tan Mingyuan with disapproval. “Tan Mingyuan, what is the first and fundamental rule of Qian Cao Peak?” he asks, voice flat and unimpressed. “Do no harm,” Tan Mingyuan says quietly, cowed. His face is red and his eyes are glossy with frustrated tears, and he doesn’t look Mu Qingfang in the face. “And what did you do?” Mu Qingfang inquired, his voice just the slightest bit exaggerated. As expected, it makes Tan Mingyuan fidget uncomfortably. Tan Mingyuan squirms under his glare and mutters something under his breath. “I’m sorry?” Mu Qingfang presses, crossing his arms over his chest. It makes him look bigger and more intimidating, and while normally Mu Qingfang would hate to use this tactic, Tan Mingyuan crumples like wet paper before him. “She insulted you in front of everybody!” Tan Mingyuan burst out, with more vehemence than Mu Qingfang had ever seen from the boy. “She said all these - these terrible, untrue things things about you and the peak and how we’re cowards for not drawing our swords and how we can’t even -” “Did those words hurt me? Did they physically harm the peak?” Mu Qingfang asks, his voice just this side of sharp. Tan Mingyuan mumbles a “No,” under his breath. “Then it did not warrant the violence you inflicted,” Mu Qingfang says firmly. “We do not harm those who set foot on our peak. I don’t care if she started it first - you have my permission to protect yourself, but not to undo the very cornerstone of our practice! If you want to use your fists, you can try your luck at Bai Zhan. Is that what you want?” Tan Mingyuan’s voice breaks a little when he says, “No.” Mu Qingfang’s heart goes out to him, but he doesn't let it show on his face. He’ll reason with the boy later. “Go and fetch your dinner. You’ll be spending your evenings in the library reviewing our rules by copying the first peak lord’s manifesto. Don’t forget to make yourself a cold compress on your way over,” Mu Qingfang says, nudging Tan Mingyuan into the mess hall ahead of the other students. While the onlooking Bai Zhan students open their mouths to protest, the Qian Cao students immediately part for him, watching him with big eyes. By the time Mu Qingfang is done dealing with his student he catches sight of Liu Qingge literally sitting on his. Underneath him, she’s struggling and spitting curses, but ultimately, she can’t shake him off. One of her arms lies uselessly against her side, and a small bloom of pride wells up in Mu Qingfang’s chest, even despite the punishment he dealt Tan Mingyuan. The boy was getting better at locating pressure points. “Liu-Shixiong,” Mu Qingfang says a little breathlessly. It’s difficult to hold in his laughter, and it doesn’t help that Liu Qingge grins at him with his eyes. “As soon as she calms down, she’ll be removed from your peak,” Liu Qingge assures him. “She has brought shame to Bai Zhan peak. She won’t do it again,” The serious tone of his voice is undermined by the way the girl keeps trying to buck him off, but somehow, he manages to keep his face straight. “No, I sincerely hope she doesn’t,” Mu Qingfang agrees. “Why don’t you send your students on ahead? They’re probably quite hungry. I’ll stay out here with you until she calms down." “Mn,” Liu Qingge says, and he glares up at the gawking students. “You heard him. Line up and eat. Once you’ve finished, head back to the peak on your own and start your night training.” All of Liu Qingge’s disciples make some noise of acknowledgement and scramble to follow suit, save for the one currently losing steam underneath him. Some terrible, vindictive part of Mu Qingfang enjoys watching the way her energy wanes, to the point where her constant struggling eventually slows, interspersed with sudden bursts of violent activity, and then finally fizzles out altogether. Begrudgingly, she says in a quiet, miserable voice, “Shizun, please let me go.” Liu Qingge looks down at her, an eyebrow cocked, and says, “You couldn’t even last thirty seconds, even when I went easy on you. You’ve been slacking.” “Yes, Shizun,” she says, and there are angry tears glittering in her eyes. “I don’t want to see you again until you can lift a log the size of pillars in the third hall. When you’ve done that, then you can come back and apologize to your Shibo. Bring gifts,” he says, and he gets to his feet. Immediately, the girl gets up and brushes herself off, glaring up at Mu Qingfang. She looks like she’s got more to say, but as agreed, she holds her tongue and runs in the direction of the rainbow bridge. Mu Qingfang feels kind of bad for her, but even she looked like she recognized where the blame lay. Liu Qingge glances at Mu Qingfang almost - almost as if to figure out his opinion of all this. Mu Qingfang gives him a pointed look and sighs. “You shouldn’t have had to physically restrain her,” he says, to which Liu Qingge frowns and crosses his arms. “That’s how it’s always been done at Bai Zhan,” he says, his tone almost petulant. “We test our might against one another. Only the strongest deserve to stay.” “Yes, and because of your over-competitive posturing, this happened,” Mu Qingfang points out. “Power is one thing, and discipline is another. Just because you have it doesn’t mean they do. Most of your students are young - no older than teenagers. They just want to be worthy of your attention. That means trying to stand out in front of a bunch of other blockheads who’ve got the same idea. And the only thing that’s impressive to someone like that is power. They don’t know how to be strong without proving someone else is weak.” Liu Qingge opens his mouth, his brain clearly racing to come up with a counter-argument. But with one sharp look from Mu Qingfang, it dies in his throat. Together, they walk into the mess hall, and Mu Qingfang points out the frighteningly clear division between his students and Liu Qingge’s. While there were a smattering of students from both peaks that mingled together, a majority of Mu Qingfang’s students ate and chatted with their friends in small groups, or otherwise studied quietly on their own. They kept their spaces clean and kept their heads down. Liu Qingge’s students, on the other hand, either gobbled down their food and rushed out to train without heeding their spaces, or lingered in large circles, coming up with inane competitions and goading each other into eating increasingly disgusting-looking concoctions. At the moment, one girl, whom Mu Qingfang recognized as a semi-frequent visitor to Qian Cao, was staring down a piece of duck covered in a very… colorful coat of. Other things that probably were not duck and should not be eaten with duck. “It’s not a bad thing for them to compete. It’s a natural part of being a kid. But your job as a peak lord goes beyond making them strong. Their discipline needs to go beyond fighting and survival and your approval - Speaking of survival, you might want to put a stop to that before she has to stay here overnight,” he says, nudging Liu Qingge toward the girl. It didn’t take long for Liu Qingge to break up the circle, and soon, the remaining Bai Zhan kids were shoveling food down their gullets and rushing out to get their night training done before they lost too much sleep. In the interim, Mu Qingfang had gone to fetch their dinners and find a seat. By the time Liu Qingge returned to Mu Qingfang’s side, he had a thoughtful look on his face, tugging his brow down imperceptibly. “Teach me,” Liu Qingge says, taking the bowl of rice Mu Qingfang offered him and easily accepting the meat and vegetables Mu Qingfang offered from a small sharing plate. Mu Qingfang paused in his chewing and glanced up at Liu Qingge. “Teach you what?” “How to make them better,” Liu Qingge said, his eyes looking past Mu Qingfang to observe his students. Mu Qingfang snorted around his mouthful of food. “That’s not really my expertise. You’ve got your work cut out for you - my peak has always been this way. There’s a certain kind of person that’s attracted to Qian Cao, like how certain kinds of people are attracted to Bai Zhan. Our approaches are different by default,” he reasons, after chewing and swallowing. “Stay on your peak and build relationships with your students. Get to know them. I can help you figure out any specific behaviors, but you need to know your kids first.” Liu Qingge did not seem especially pleased by Mu Qingfang's answer, but he didn't push the matter further. Mu Qingfang steered the conversation into more manageable waters, and before long, Liu Qingge was on his way with that determined look on his face. For once, Mu Qingfang actually had hope that maybe, just maybe , he could count on Liu Qingge to follow through.   --   Mu Qingfang doesn’t see Liu Qingge for three weeks, until the man shows up at his doorstep, looking haggard but otherwise unharmed. Mu Qingfang excuses himself from showing a set of younger students the proper way to suture a wound shut, and rushes toward him. “What’s the emergency, Liu-Shixiong?” he asks. Liu Qingge rarely shows up to Qian Cao without good reason, and it’s even rarer still that he doesn’t have some sort of gaping wound in his stomach. “No emergency,” Liu Qingge rasps, blinking his eyes slow as if he were hoping to get any modicum of additional rest from it. “Carry on.” Mu Qingfang stares at him strangely, before hesitantly nodding and returning to his class. Liu Qingge stays at the back of the room, leaning against the doorframe, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. His eyes stay on Mu Qingfang as he delivers what is probably the most distracted lesson of his entire teaching career, though if the students pick up on it, they don’t mention anything. Good kids. He ends up pricking himself with the needle two or three times when his attention strays back to Liu Qingge, and by the time he ties his last knot he’s about ready to vibrate out of his skin. God he hasn’t felt this unnecessarily rattled since he was 22 and being observed as he sewed up his first heart valve. Normally, he would have lingered, would have allowed his students time to ask questions and clarify, but after checking to make sure the stitches weren’t too sloppy, he couldn’t stop his immediate impulse to join Liu Qingge at the door. “I’ve got some time before my next lesson, Liu-Shixiong. How can I help you?” he asked, leaning into Liu Qingge’s space so as not to let his voice carry too loud. Liu Qingge, who had looked calm and almost meditative as he watched Mu Qingfang’s lesson, straightens up immediately, his eyes widening as he imperceptibly backs away. He catches himself quickly, however, and gestures with his head towards the students currently packing away their supplies. “They’re so… calm,” he says. “Well, they’re practicing on peaches. Wait until they’ve got an actual person in front of them and you won’t see them quite so calm,” Mu Qingfang chuckles, as he leads the way out of the clinic classroom. “Mn,” Liu Qingge hums, following absently after Mu Qingfang. His quiet is a bit unnerving; he normally would’ve said something by now. “Liu-Shixiong, are you alright…?” Mu Qingfang asks, tilting his head towards him. Liu Qingge blinks at him slowly, before glancing quickly away. “I’m fine,” he says tersely. Mu Qingfang quirks an eyebrow as he waits for him to elaborate. Apparently, even Liu Qingge can be unnerved with enough politely quiet staring, and eventually, he says, “Teaching is harder than I expected it to be.” “I’m glad you noticed,” Mu Qingfang says drily. It doesn’t last long, though, as the corners of his mouth turn up and the laugh he’d been holding back bursts out. Liu Qingge tries to frown, but Mu Qingfang sees the corners of his lips turning up, as well. “Young people… are exhausting,” he says, after a turn. “Even when they like you.” “ Especially when they like you,” Mu Qingfang readily agrees. “They only want your attention and they’re not old enough to remember that thirty other people want your attention, too.” The ferocity with which Liu Qingfang nods in agreement makes Mu Qingfang laugh and laugh. "Sick of them already?" he asks with a grin. Liu Qingge's voice fills with dread as he says, quite emphatically, " Yes ." Mu Qingfang pats his shoulder in sympathy and tugs him closer. Only vaguely is he aware of the way Liu Qingge whips his head up to look at him, his face redder in the sunlight than it looked back in the clinic. “Come on. We can commiserate over tea at my cottage - Shen Qingqiu sent me some a couple weeks back as thanks for the Grasping Vine.” Liu Qingge nods agreeably and lets Mu Qingfang lead him to the cottage. He doesn’t mention the hand that lingers on his bicep, and Mu Qingfang himself doesn’t realize the overly-casual touch until it’s too late to pull away.   --   They end up talking - a lot , if you consider how taciturn Liu Qingge generally is - and it’s honestly rather surprising how stressed out he is. Liu Qingge isn’t exactly the nurturing shifu type , and trying to act like one has him all out of sorts. As Bai Zhan’s war god, he’d always just… gone on ahead, devastated the enemy forces, and left the stragglers for others to deal with. He’s never had to worry about teamwork , let alone getting others to work as a team. He was a one-man wrecking crew, existing only to follow one man’s orders, or give out orders as if his words were absolute. Half the time he didn’t even need to worry about strategy - having him there and fighting was the strategy. Without the impetus of violence to spur the disciples into obedience, Liu Qingge's authority was not followed quite so absolutely anymore, and that fact alone had Liu Qingge puzzled. And without a doubt, his kids were in chaos, trying to figure out how to handle the new leaf their Shifu was trying to turn over. Liu Qingge was new and learning, but he was getting a few things right - for one, his discipline was consistent and fair, and for another, his students still idolized him. But hardly being used to controlling a group of 30, he had no mind for the organization and procedures he had to put into place, and with all of his students previously being self-studies, he had no understanding of how to assess and group students of similar skills. Besides, all of his skills were so long ingrained, he had no fucking clue how to explain them besides showing the motions over and over again. Mu Qingfang could sympathize, to an extent. After all, he’d had to learn this over the course of the 15-ish years they’d been peak lords, too. Unlike Liu Qingge, however, he had a fresh start and centuries of precedence to work with. Liu Qingge was working against the status quo, handling a bunch of rowdy, cock-sure kids who’d until just recently been allowed to grow wild and free. What he was attempting was not unlike rebuilding civilization after some devastating cataclysm. Given Liu Qingge’s introverted tendencies and his love for travel, it was no wonder he was exhausted. Staring at the dregs of tea at the bottom of his cup, Mu Qingfang asked, “What if you took some time to observe the other peak lords? See if you can glean some strategies from them? Take a few days a week to teach, and give them a few days for self study. The change is probably stressing them out, too.” Liu Qingge blinks at him, and then nods slowly, considering it with the same seriousness he dedicates to just about anything he sets his mind to. “Alright,” he agrees. “I will visit your peak first, then.”   --   Inviting Liu Qingge to come observe was a mistake, Mu Qingfang quickly realizes. On any given day, Mu Qingfang is being observed - by Yi Qingzhi, by other older students, by the children he’s teaching, and even on occasion, by Yue Qingyuan or a guest to the peak. However, none of them stare at him with the intensity that Liu Qingge stares at him. His constant attention makes his skin prickle unbearably, to the point where he almost wants to tell Liu Qingge to go off and make himself useful elsewhere. But that’d defeat the entire purpose of the exercise. By the second hour of Liu Qingge’s neverending stare, Mu Qingfang caves and pulls him to the front of the classroom and has him participate. Well, if using him as a model for qi circulation counts as participation. He stands extremely still as Mu Qingfang traces the path of qi from his stomach out to his extremities and back again, mimicking the flow of qi during resting state, active use, and deviation. Liu Qingge twitches, just once, when Mu Qingfang explains qi deviation, his eyes going bright and a little bit wild, his breath speeding just a half-pace faster. As if to drive the stake in further, a student’s hand shoots up, and before Mu Qingfang can even call out to her, she blurts out, “What does qi deviation feel like?” Liu Qingge’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His stare goes stony and a little bit far away, and Mu Qingfang knows he’s going nowhere good fast. Gently, he squeezes his wrist, just enough to remind him that he’s here. He wants to do more, but it would be too embarrassing, too intimate, to hold the man close in front of a group of disciples. “It feels like death,” Liu Qingge says quietly, gravely. The entire room falls silent, their young eyes huge. It feels like the air in the room goes a few degrees chillier, like the spirit of death had actually come to visit. “It’s not like physical death. But mental death. Emotional death,” Liu Qingge clarifies. “For some people, it’s a sudden spark, but for me, it dragged on for months. For days at a time, I felt nothing at all. And then I’d feel these flashes of indescribable rage; I’d have nothing but blankness and violence in my mind.” God, he’s trembling. The thin skin of his wrist is cold and clammy, and his face has gone pale, emphasizing the high flush on his cheeks and the manic shine in his eyes as he continues. “I was powerless to control it. It almost killed me. It almost killed Shen Qingqiu. I would rather be torn limb from limb than let the deviation take me again.” Mu Qingfang lets Liu Qingge’s wrist drop to his side and starts rubbing circles into his back. With a shaky smile, he says quietly, “Thank you, Liu-Shixiong. Are you alright?” “Mn,” Liu Qingge says, nodding his head stiffly. He stays quiet from then on, eyes glassy and a little far away, but he leans into Mu Qingfang’s touch. Gently, Mu Qingfang eases Liu Qingge down until he’s sitting down and leaning against Mu Qingfang’s shoulder. Clearing his throat, Mu Qingfang brings the class’s attention away from Liu Qingge and towards him. “Now, you’re too early in your core formation to do this, but if you do witness someone in the middle of a qi deviation flare, there are ways to minimize the damage…”   --   Liu Qingge is a little bit quieter for the rest of the day, but he comes back to himself in bits and pieces, so that by the time they leave the classroom, he’s almost to his usual brand of stoicism. Mu Qingfang opens his mouth to apologize to him, but Liu Qingge beats him to it. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice gravelly. Mu Qingfang puts his hands on Liu Qingge’s shoulders and turns him bodily to face him. “No. Don’t,” he says quietly, firmly. “You don’t need to apologize for the things illness did to you. In fact, I should apologize to you for bringing it up at all. Are you okay?” “Mn,” Liu Qingge says, blinking his eyes slow and breathing in one deep breath. “What can I do to make things better?” Mu Qingfang asks quietly, letting his hands drift down to hold him loosely at the biceps. Liu Qingge looks at him for a long time before letting his gaze drop. “Just stay close to me,” he says quietly. “Don’t let me go.” Oh . It is 100% absolutely the wrong time to think about that incident , but he can’t help it. His heart pounds hard against his ribcage as his skin crawls with the desire to get closer and the need to stay away. Stiffly, he lets go of Liu Qingge’s arms, but stays close as promised, so that every other step has them brushing shoulders. After the third or fourth bump of their arms, Liu Qingge lets his palm rest against Mu Qingfang’s, their fingers tangling of their own accord. Mu Qingfang can hardly hear a thing with the sound of blood rushing in his ears so loudly.   --   Despite his disastrous first visit, Liu Qingge takes to stopping by two or three times a week, to the point where Mu Qingfang honestly wonders if he’s actually visiting other peak lords. It’s not bad, though, having Liu Qingge around - he’s strong, reliable, and has steady hands. He’s attentive when following orders, and picks up skills and techniques readily. While he doesn’t interact much with the students the kids get used to him quickly anyways. By the end of the day, Liu Qingge is still tired and looks more than ready to hole up and train in seclusion for a week or two, but he still returns to his peak to oversee night training or prepare for the next day’s lessons. As the weeks pass, Liu Qingge seems more… confident? Or at least, he has less and less to complain about over their shared meals, to the point where Mu Qingfang wonders if he’ll eventually stop visiting the peak and observing Mu Qingfang’s interactions with his students. But no - Liu Qingge continues to stop by, even occasionally helping in the clinic, on days where Yi Qingzhi takes over classroom duties. Once, Liu Qingge finds himself assisting Mu Qingfang as he treats a student he himself injured. The Bai Zhan disciple’s eyes go kind of watery, his expression more than a little starstruck as Liu Qingge helps to wrap his knee. Mu Qingfang is about 99% sure the boy had not heard a single thing he’d said about how to keep the wound safe, but it’s hard to bring himself to care when the he looks so ecstatic. Mu Qingfang just makes a mental reminder to write it down for him. By the time they’re done, the boy looks like he’s witnessed god, and Mu Qingfang can’t help but excuse himself to calm down, before he bursts into laughter right in front of them. When he returns, the boy is blabbering at Liu Qingge about something or another, his hands gesturing wildly as he makes sound effects , and while Liu Qingge doesn’t quite get it , he still nods along. When the boy is escorted out by one of Mu Qingfang’s disciples, Liu Qingge has a faint smile on his face, and oh, boy, there goes his heart again. It’s been happening a lot, lately. By now, Mu Qingfang should be used to Liu Qingge’s close proximity, his intense stare, the touch of his calloused hands. But every single fucking time, Mu Qingfang’s chest throbs with an unnamed want. His skin tingles with the need to touch, the need to stay close enough to feel the heat radiating off of Liu Qingge’s skin, and it isn’t even a sexual impulse. He just instinctively wants to be close. On days like that, Mu Qingfang stays pointedly away, though if Liu Qingge picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything. If anything, Mu Qingfang sometimes finds Liu Qingge edging closer, unconsciously trying to maintain the equilibrium they’d established over the weeks. It’s maddening. What’s even more maddening is that every once in a while (and once, even on a day where Liu Qingge should’ve been busy with his disciples) Mu Qingfang falls asleep on his break and wakes up with Liu Qingge’s outer robe draped over him. On days like that, there’s usually a meal from the mess waiting for him on the counter that had not been that organized when he’d fallen asleep and a faint, lingering, mountainy scent pervading the room. On those days, he can usually find Liu Qingge outside observing and assisting his disciples with their self-defense training, or otherwise helping at the clinic under Yi Qingzhi’s scrutinizing stare. It makes Mu Qingfang feel weak and hollow with an affection he knows he’s not allowed to harbor. Liu Qingge still takes missions from Yue Qingyuan, which is in turns both a welcome respite for Mu Qingfang’s poor heart and a refresher on bitter longing. Mu Qingfang, for all his restraint, misses his friend, having grown used to his company. Besides, the likelihood of Liu Qingge returning grievously wounded is much higher after a mission, and it keeps Mu Qingfang on edge until the man inevitably comes back for treatment. It’s never long enough - Liu Qingge has started deigning to catch up with his students’ training in the following days, rather than spending more time recuperating at Qian Cao. But once, just once, Mu Qingfang wakes up from one of his naps with the smell of rust and herbal medicine in the air, overwhelming even the clean scent of Liu Qingge’s outer robes around him. There’s an unfamiliar weight at his side, the tickle of something silky smooth along his cheek and neck, and when he’s awake enough to look down, he sees Liu Qingge’s head tucked against his shoulder. Still asleep enough that any concept of shame and propriety is thrown out the window, Mu Qingfang instinctively throws a hand around Liu Qingge’s waist and tugs him closer. It’s when he meets bare skin that he startles awake, and when he gives the man a proper look-over, he finds him stripped to the waist, the bandages clumsily wrapped around a shoulder already spotting with blood. His other arm is in a sling, hastily splinted and wrapped and resting safely in the space between them. It’s clear that Liu Qingge had done this himself - even with the broken arm?! - and hadn’t even thought to get proper care before he rushed to Mu Qingfang’s side. It awakens something indignant and soft inside Mu Qingfang. He wants to scold him for his carelessness; he wants to kiss him for his sweetness. Instead, he sighs and pulls himself onto his two feet. Liu Qingge grumbles a soft, sleepy protest, but doesn’t wake. It’s frighteningly easy to lift Liu Qingge up and into the reclined chair and start inspecting the wound. The man is completely defenseless in a way Mu Qingfang knows he isn’t when he’s off the peak, and it makes something warm and tender bloom in his chest.   --   That girl shows up - the one that’d fought Tan Mingyuan all those weeks ago, the girl that started Liu Qingge’s quest to become a better peak lord. She comes with her head bowed low, her sweaty hands clutching a basket of freshly-picked herbs and the carcass of a Lightning Strike Deer slung across her back. In the basket, Mu Qingfang recognizes some of the herbs he’d pointed out to Liu Qingge nearly two months ago. There’s even a few sticks of that plant they’d snacked on as they worked. “Thank you,” Mu Qingfang says graciously, taking the weight of the Lightning Strike Deer off of her back. “Why don’t you come with me to the store room? Tan Mingyuan might be there. Perhaps you can finally apologize to one another.” The girl startles at the suggestion, her eyes wide and her face full of dread. It makes Mu Qingfang laugh. “Don’t worry - I’ll be there to keep anything from happening. Besides, Tan Mingyuan is a good boy. He might have given a bad first impression, but trust me, he’s not a fighter.” The girl snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “O-Of course he’s not a fighter. He made a bunch of rookie mistakes. I would’ve pounded him to the ground if it weren’t for -” she glances at Mu Qingfang’s face and wilts under his unimpressed stare. “Of course he’s not a fighter. That’s not our profession here,” Mu Qingfang says, firmly but gently. “He only needs to know enough to defend himself and immobilize his attackers. And besides, if he wanted to, he knows plenty of other ways to hurt a person.” That alone is enough to quiet her down. Their conversation turns to other, safer topics - the girl finally introduces herself and tells Mu Qingfang to just call her A-Bao (she used to hate that nickname, but once, Liu Qingge had said it suited her, and from then on, she kept it), she confirms that yes, Liu Qingge had advised her on what to bring after she’d finally (if only barely) managed to survive 30 seconds against him, and she went on to explain all the most delicious ways to prepare Lightning Strike Deer (Mu Qingfang politely ignored the way her stomach growled a little as she talked about what to roast the leg meat with). It doesn’t take long at all to get to the store room, and A-Bao honestly looks a little disappointed that they’d reached their location so quickly. Tan Mingyuan is indeed there, and as soon as he sees A-Bao he points his finger (rudely) at her, his voice gone low and stormy when he says, “ You !” Honestly, if the boy weren’t 5’3” and maybe 100 pounds soaking wet, Mu Qingfang might have even flinched back a little. “Tan Mingyuan, A-Bao is here to apologize,” Mu Qingfang says gently. “W-well, she needs to apologize to you first!” Tan Mingyuan insists, crossing his arms over his chest. Mu Qingfang wants to laugh. “She already has,” he says, gesturing to the deer he was holding and the basket of herbs in her hands. A-Bao, somehow, manages to look exceptionally nervous, and also exceptionally smug. Tan Mingyuan’s lips press together, his voice coming out a little wobbly as he says, “W-well!” He didn’t look like he’d thought this far ahead, and his barely-there adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and scrambles to come up with something especially self-righteous to say. As if the boy had a self-righteous bone in his body. “Let’s have it then! I’ll accept your apology if you admit you’re completely wrong.” Oh boy. Mu Qingfang needs to nip this in the bud. But A-Bao steps up to the challenge and says, “But I’m not wrong! If you didn’t do that weird thing with my arm, I would’ve kicked your ass! Your punches were nothing!” Tan Mingyuan must’ve been really riled up, if he didn’t even think to glance up to seek Mu Qingfang’s approval. “Yeah, well that’s what we d-do on this mountain! We’re not - we’re not brutes , like you!” “We are NOT br -” A-Bao all but screams, before Mu Qingfang moves bodily between them. “Alright, alright, that is where we’re stopping. I thought you came here to apologize, A-Bao,” he says, his voice going firm. Tan Mingyuan startles at his tone, taking a step back and staying up at Mu Qingfang with big eyes. “And you , A-Yuan. When someone comes to apologize to you, you take it gracefully. You should know better.” A-Bao turns to Mu Qingfang and crosses her arms, demanding, “If you got into a fight with Shifu, who would win?” “He would, obviously,” Mu Qingfang said immediately. “He’s the head of Bai Zhan peak for a reason. Is this what you fought about?” he asks, frowning at Tan Mingyuan. “N-no!” Tan Mingyuan stammers. “I told her and her friends that they were being annoying and loud and she said she could break my spine like a twig and I told her she could try, but not before I stopped her with our martial arts, and she called our peak horseshi - Um.” Mu Qingfang nodded, gesturing for him to continue. “And then she said we were cowards and didn’t fight for the peak when - when Luo-Shixiong attacked,” he said, his voice growing quiet and shy at the end. “And then she said a bunch of other rude things about you.” A-Bao opened her mouth to protest, but to her credit she closed it quickly and looked away. “I- I didn’t mean it. I was just saying things because I was mad,” she said. “A-and! I apologized, didn’t I?!” she asked, staring up at Mu Qingfang with big, angry eyes. “You did, but that was unkind. Your Shifu wouldn’t like that, would he?” Mu Qingfang asked. “N-no,” A-Bao mumbled, fidgeting under Mu Qingfang’s disapproving stare. “B-but I’m right! You even said so!” “Being right and being a good person are not always the same thing. Besides. It isn’t impossible to overcome Liu-Shixiong. If we did not have swords, and with the right luck, I think I could hold my own against him.” That had both of the children’s attention, and before either of them could say anything, a familiar voice came up the road to say, “You think you could hold your own? Want to test it?” Speak of the devil. Of course Liu Qingge would have the impeccable timing to show up just when things were getting resolved.   --   They decide to turn it into a lesson. Mu Qingfang supposes he’d feel a lot more nervous about it if he were expected to win, but he’s going up against the Bai Zhan peak lord. As long as he can draw it out long enough for his students to see the practical uses of pressure points as a supplement to the fighting style taught on the peak, there’s no shame in losing. At least, that’s what he tells himself when he looks across the training room and sees Liu Qingge limbering up. He’s got a slew of students sitting on the side with the addition of A-Bao, Tan Mingyuan, and Yi Qingzhi as commentator. He hopes to any gods out there that this lesson won’t be in vain, that they’ll actually learn something from him humiliating himself. Fat chance, though. Liu Qingge promised that he’d go easy, but, well his definition of easy doesn’t ever quite line up with anyone else’s. “Ready, Liu-Shixiong?” Mu Qingfang asks, more to take up time than to confirm. Liu Qingge is always ready for a fight. Liu Qingge nods and looks to Yi Qingzhi to get the match started. Briefly, she outlines the rules for the observing students - no weapons, no qi, no dirty moves, Liu Qingge was to fight with the intent of defending himself and immobilizing Mu Qingfang, and Mu Qingfang was only to use the martial arts taught at Qian Cao. Only at her signal were they to start, and at her signal, they were to immediately separate and return to their starting points. The disciples were to study the fight and observe only. No cheering, no jeering, just observing. With that, Yi Qingzhi signals for them to start. The moment she calls out, Liu Qingge surges forward, and Mu Qingfang moves on autopilot. It’s been a while since he’s had an actual spar with someone that wasn’t his own student, and rarely are they ever as aggressive as Liu Qingge is, so the first few seconds of the fight, Mu Qingfang spends getting back into the rhythm of evading. For all that Liu Qingge moves like a hurricane, Mu Qingfang moves like a feather, his every movement attuned to Liu Qingge’s. Of course, this can’t last forever. As they get into the rhythm of the fight, Liu Qingge gets faster, occasionally clipping Mu Qingfang’s sleeves and barely snatching Mu Qingfang’s wrists before his grip is broken away. Finally, after maybe the third or fourth deflected strike, Mu Qingfang caves and goes for one of the pressure points governing the movement in his shoulders. Liu Qingge sees right through him and knocks him flat on his ass. Absently, he’s aware of Yi Qingzhi’s voice calling for them to return to their corners, but it’s hard to focus on anything that isn’t Liu Qingge. Liu Qingge holds a hand out to help him up, and all Mu Qingfang can hear is the blood singing through his veins. He grins at Liu Qingge, and Liu Qingge grins back. He’d come to the training hall today with dread in his heart, the exercise done out of obligation more than anything else. But seeing Liu Qingge’s spirits up, seeing the battle god in something closer to his natural environment, has him wanting more. It’s exhilarating. He feels, rather than hears, Yi Qingzhi start up the next round, and this time, he’s on the offensive. Liu Qingge barks out a - a laugh? As he evades Mu Qingfang’s calculated swipes. He can see Mu Qingfang going for his chest, his arms, and goads him into chase. It’s hardly dignified, but fights rarely are. Liu Qingge moves like a river, and Mu Qingfang feels helpless against it. But it doesn’t feel bad - it feels like, like they’re young again, two pups play-fighting, two young bucks knocking heads before their horns grow in. It’s good. Mu Qingfang likes it. Eventually, Liu Qingge gets tired of evading and turns the tides back on Mu Qingfang, and within seconds he’s got one of Mu Qingfang’s arms in an iron grip. However, it it also brings him just close enough that Mu Qingfang can strike, with an accuracy whose origins even he’s not sure of, a pressure point in Liu Qingge’s abdomen. That one jab has Liu Qingge’s left knee crashing down, and he releases Mu Qingfang’s arm in surprise. Yi Qingzhi’s cry echoes sharp in their ears, alien from the animal space of mind that’s consumed Mu Qingfang, and he steps back. His eyes glance out to the audience, seeing but unseeing, and he feels the way they lean forward, too intimidated by Yi Qingzhi’s overbearing presence to cheer. Beside him, Liu Qingge grunts, and Mu Qingfang helps him to his newly-weak legs. They stay there, leaning against one another for a long minute, before Liu Qingge nods his head and Mu Qingfang lets him wobble back to his corner. In the infinite space of the seconds before Yi Qingzhi calls for them to continue, Liu Qingge grins feral at Mu Qingfang, and Mu Qingfang grins back. They expose their teeth like wolves. Yi Qingzhi starts the match up again, and this time, Mu Qingfang goes for the throat. He’s bigger, his reach long and his body heavy, and before long, Liu Qingge forgets his weakness and falters. The world narrows in to nothing but the space between their bodies, the heaving of their chests, the ragged wisps of breath, the flush high on Liu Qingge’s smiling cheeks. Liu Qingge is caught under him, his fists thrusting up and scrabbling for purchase. Being on top of Liu Qingge - or rather, staying on top - is a challenge, one that he loses, and then wins, and then loses again. Liu Qingge’s fists are making a mess of the polished floors, but at this range, Mu Qingfang is quicker. He gets his legs hooked under Liu Qingge’s, rolls them both over, and pins him with his weight. He bears down on him, hips flush together in a way that’d have Mu Qingfang blushing if he were on the outside watching. But this, this is just a matter of dominance, the primal urge to push someone down and - Liu Qingge bucks under his weight once, twice, and when he tries to overturn him, Mu Qingfang jabs his hands into Liu Qingge’s chest and arms, rendering his right arm useless. Liu Qingge manages to clip him in the chin with his left and turn them around again, slamming Mu Qingfang’s skull into the floor hard enough that he sees stars. Outside of this tiny world they’ve created, he thinks Yi Qingzhi is yelling at them to stop, but Liu Qingge grunts, no, and Mu Qingfang wholeheartedly seconds the sentiment. Besides if they wanted to keep going, there’s no one on this mountain that could stop them. Mu Qingfang sucks in deep breath after deep breath, unable to get enough air as he blinks the sparks out of his eyes. Liu Qingge struggles to keep his arms pinned, despite his useless right. When he’s recovered, Mu Qingfang breaks his hold easily, knee coming up to sweep Liu Qingge off his already unsteady pin, and in seconds, he’s sitting on Liu Qingge’s hips, his weight bearing down on Liu Qingge’s good arm. With his one leg weak and his right arm splayed uselessly on the ground, it’s completely his loss. Liu Qingge gives it a token struggle, before finally, finally dropping his head to the floor and calls mercy. In an instant, the room erupts into cheers and screaming. It makes laughter bubble up in Mu Qingfang’s throat, and Mu Qingfang’s laughter sets Liu Qingge to grinning, and oh , Mu Qingfang’s heart throbs. He hasn’t felt like this since he was young. It takes… much too long, honestly, for the rest of the world to register, and in that time Yi Qingzhi is able to loom over them both, their army of disciples making a very loud, very excitable circle around them. Mu Qingfang ignores them in favor of rolling off of Liu Qingge who, despite his weakened limbs, is in high spirits. “How’s your head?” Liu Qingge manages to rasp, and oh, ow, there it is. “I’m alright. What about you? Mu Qingfang asks under the clamor of students. “My right arm is completely numb,” Liu Qingge says, the cadence of laughter bleeding into his words. Above them, Yi Qingzhi looks very irritated at being ignored for so long, but before she can properly scold them both, Mu Qingfang prompts, “Follow up lesson, my dearest, most skilled, most intelligent Head Disciple?” Yi Qingzhi makes a face of utter disgust and says, “You owe me, Shizun.” Before herding the children away. Mu Qingfang absolutely intends to take the rest of the day off, citing his oh-so-painful (the pain is already starting to fade, actually) head wound, and besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Liu Qingge, right? They both lay on the ground for a good five or six minutes, catching their breaths and breaking into winded fits of giggling. Eventually, Mu Qingfang has the gall to ask, “Just how easy were you going on me, anyways?” To which, Liu Qingge snorts, “Not even 70%” “Oh, come on!” Mu Qingfang groans, but there’s still a smile on his face. “We should do this again. Without students watching. I’ll do you 75% next time,” Liu Qingge promises, to which Mu Qingfang shoves him. “Cocky words for a man who’s won't be able to walk for the next two hours,” Mu Qingfang says, but there’s no real bite to it. “You did this to me. Take responsibility.” Liu Qingge shoots back, and Mu Qingfang moves over and tugs him up by the good arm. “Can you even get up?” Mu Qingfang asks, and Liu Qingge snorts. “If I can’t, you’ll just have to carry me,” he says, though he does inevitably make a good effort of it because that’s how Liu Qingge is. Their good mood lasts all day, though it calms significantly in the time it takes for the adrenaline to peter off. Liu Qingge tries his best to walk all the way to Mu Qingfang's cottage, but it's slow going with him leaning awkwardly on Mu Qingfang. The line of his body is a searing brand against Mu Qingfang's side, and it makes Mu Qingfang's skin hypersensitive and hyperaware. Now that the adrenaline's worn off, Mu Qingfang has time to think about - about the fight, how beautiful and dangerous Liu Qingge was - is - how he'd rolled them both over in one smooth motion, weakened leg be damned, how he'd smashed his head to the floor and kept him there, how he'd thrust their hips together, the strength of him nearly enough to topple Mu Qingfang. The growled no in his ear, the hot, wet heat of his breath, the flash of his eyes. It sparks something low and dangerous in his gut, an all-too-familiar feeling that makes the air go thin and hot and uncomfortable. Mu Qingfang prays that Liu Qingge does not notice. They enter the cottage, and Mu Qingfang helps Liu Qingge into his bed, and oh that isn't smart but there's nowhere else to let an injured man rest and he makes some offhand excuse as to why he has to leave - to get food, to wash up, to get something for his head; even he's not sure what he said - and he escapes the stifling heat of Liu Qingge’s company. It’s easier in the warm midday air, away from the temptation of Liu Qingge’s fierce eyes, but not by much - not when Mu Qingfang knows exactly what he sounds like when he moans, knows the precise shape of his body when he writhes, knows the slick heat of his skin. The thought of it has him tugging at his clothes, ready to drown his inappropriate attraction in his little pool out back. He slides in, the water cool despite the coming summer heat, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the fire burning under his skin. But even here isn’t safe - not when he thinks of Liu Qingge pulling himself out of this very same pool, his skin sparkling and wet, his brow tugged down with frustration, his eyes sharp and determined. The spirit is strong but the body is weak, and whatever progress was gained by slipping into the water is lost very, very quickly with every lascivious, unbidden thought of his Shixiong. There’s no point in prolonging it, if he’s already at this point. Or at least, that’s what Mu Qingfang tells himself when he wraps a hand around himself. He tries, at the very least, to keep his mind blank as he works himself over, but it’s no use - not when less than an hour ago, Liu Qingge was on top of him, pushing him down with those skilled hands. How much different would things have been if he hadn’t held back? How much longer would he have been able to hold Mu Qingfang down? Mu Qingfang sincerely hopes that Liu Qingge can’t hear him splashing around in the pool, though between the splashing and the low, bitten-off moans, he would prefer the splashing. He thinks of that single bark of laughter, the exhilarated grin, the way his body moved like an inescapable force of nature, and oh , that’s good. Mu Qingfang lets his legs spread a bit further, lays his head against the rocks, closes his eyes as he thinks of Liu Qingge wanting him and taking what he wanted. His unyielding grip on Mu Qingfang’s wrist, his sharp knees, the flash of his teeth. Mu Qingfang knows he’s panting like an animal, and it’s the animal part of him that thinks of Liu Qingge lying in his bed, thinks of Liu Qingge doing inside what Mu Qingfang is doing out here, thinks of that single desperate plea to let him have it, he’s ready, he can’t be hurt - Mu Qingfang goes weak kneed, spilling into the water with a sated sigh. He relishes in his orgasm for exactly twenty seconds before gathering what he can of the cum in the water and tossing it out onto the grass. Gross . After that, he splashes around, dunks his hair in, scrubs off the sweat and prays that Liu Qingge doesn’t know what he’s just done.

Chapter 63 October 30th, 1994 Hogwarts October came fairly quickly with the Scottish summer being short at best and the light, warm rain gradually transitioned into heavier, cold rain. The leaves of the Forbidden forest began to change, the Whomping Willow moulted and an autumn mist began to settle over the Black Lake in the mornings. The coming of October was also synonymous with the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament this year and its approaching advent had been all anyone was talking about. Harry felt ready to see his girlfriend again. Although His skepticism about the tournament hadn't been particularly helped by the fact they were looking at a piece about one of the final years of the tournament. The first event had resulted in all three champions being killed by an irate dragon. Harry reassured himself though that the organizers would have learned their lesson and it was unlikely they would include some form of large, dangerous magical creature in the opening round this time. It made it marginally less likely that whoever was foolish enough to get selected would die straight away. 'Aren't Beauxbaton and Durmstrang's students meant to be arriving today,' Joe asked from across where he sat. 'I think so,' Harry said 'but I don't know how they're arriving.' which was true that no one had told him how Beaubatonx would be arriving. A burst of startled exclamations from by the window drew the attention of everyone in the hall. 'It's a bird,' someone called out. 'No, it's a plane,' a Muggle-born student cried out to a few sniggers and more than a few blank looks from those raised in the magical world. 'It's Beauxbatons' flying carriage,' Ashlee said as it drew closer. 'It's pulled by Abraxan horses.' Beaubatonx That meant Fleur would be here soon. Their coach was pale, pastel blue and rather ornate. The coach soon disappeared behind the central tower and Harry returned to his book again. Harry was more than a little amused at the air of excitement around him. Sure he was excited to see Fleur but not to this amount 'Something's happening to the lake,' a first-year squeaked. 'It's bubbling,' someone cried in surprise. 'There's a ship.' 'It must be Durmstrang,' someone said. 'Do they know about the giant squid?' a guy asked from behind him. Harry bit back a laugh. That could be a nasty surprise for Durmstrang. 'If everyone could find a seat on their house tables,' Dumbledore suggested, his wand held against his throat to magnify his voice over all the excitement. 'Let's give a good impression to our guests.' The Durmstrang students were confusing as they were dressed for cold weather the likes of which Scotland had never seen before. Their headmaster, a silver-haired, sour-faced man with a short, pointed goatee came last, his arm draped about the broad shoulders of his final student. 'That's Viktor Krum,' Catherine hissed. A murmur of surprise and admiration spread as the prodigious young seeker entered the hall. 'Igor,' Dumbledore welcomed, arms outspread and eyes twinkling beneath his spectacles. He received a sharp, curt nod in return, something Harry thought looked slightly rude. 'Madame Maxime is on her way,' the foreign professor announced in surprisingly unaccented English. 'She stopped to give more precise instructions to your gamekeeper about her Abraxans.' Dumbledore let his arms drop and continued to smile magnanimously as his counterpart joined him at the elevated table and his students, following Krum's lead, found space on the Slytherin table. The hall began to fill with whispers as they waited for the French students to arrive. As the Beaubatonx students arrived they were led by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. Many people gasped as they saw this woman. Harry believed he had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; in fact, he doubted whether there was any difference at all in their heights. Yet somehow, this woman that was now looking around the astonished crowd seemed even taller and larger to Harry. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob and she was dressed from head to toe in black satin, with many magnificent opals dangling off her person. Dumbledore started to applaud; the students began to follow his lead. The woman relaxed into a gracious smile and walked towards Dumbledore while extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, while rather tall himself, barely had to bend to kiss it. "My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts." "Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?" "In excellent form, I thank you," replied Dumbledore. "My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands behind her. Harry, who like many of the students had been watching the exchange between Madame Maxime and Dumbledore, turned to look at the emerging girls. He estimated about thirty students in total. They seemed to be shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them wore cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. Some of them were staring as Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces. Looking carefully he saw the face of his girlfriend who looked at him with a smile while also chattering in the cold. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX Fleur entered the castle looking up as the Beauxbatons delegation set foot in the entrance hall. Although it was not Beauxbatons, she really had to admire the magnificent hall; with the tall roof and marble staircase off to the side, it did have quite nice architecture. She was with her old friend Cosette and two new friends she had made Danielle Darrieux and Julie Gayet "Come on, let's go find seats!" Fleur looked down to see her friend Cosette beckoning her to follow her into the Great Hall. After stepping foot in the Great Hall, she and the rest of the delegation stopped again. "Wow," many of them murmured as they looked around the beautiful and extravagant hall. The Hall stretched out long and wide and featured four separate tables, each with a different colored banner flying over them. At the end of the hall stood a single long table that had a black banner flying over it with what she guessed was the Hogwarts coat of arms. The roof (or was it a roof?) seemed to be enchanted to her so that it reflected the sky, something she thought was rather impressive and clever. She then decided to glance around the hall and was unsure of where to go now. She decided to look for her boyfriend first though Soon she meets his eye by the Ravenclaw Table. "Where do we sit?" Isabelle Duchesnay asked as the delegation was now unsure of where to sit at for the feast. "Let's sit under the blue banner," Fleur responded as she walked towards the Ravenclaw table, which was set to the very right of the room when entering from the entrance hall, with the rest of the delegation following closely behind. Harry rose to meet her. They shared a quick kiss. "I'm glad to see you Arry," She said. "You to Fleur" He murmured back "Come sit" They sat near the back of the hall, where the table had been slightly extended, along with the Slytherin table which was positioned at the very left of the hall. As Fleur sat down in between Harry and Cossette, she saw that the Durmstrang students had sat at the Slytherin table, while the rest of the Hogwarts students filed in and sat according to their respective houses. Their friends looked at them in surprise. "Whos the girl Harry," A Dark-eyed girl with black hair said looking at them in surprise. Her own friends seemed surprised that this was her boyfriend. Well, they had never said much about how much time they spend together. Thankfully the French gossip columns had gotten the students at Beaubatonx aware of her relationship. And they would not do anything to protest it due to the power of her father. But apparently, Harry's friends were a bit out of the loop. As well as several of the students at the table who were looking confused. Neither of them noticed the shocked looks given from several at the Staff Table and at the table across the way. "Guys," Harry said taking her hand and turning to his friends "This is my girlfriend Fleur Delcour". They looked shocked at first. And then a student chuckled "Well then you've got a lot to tell us about Potter" He said. Harry smiled as they all took their seats. The students around the table listened with rapt attention as Harry and Fleur told them the basics. Several of Harry's classmates seemed shocked at first but then where soon congratulating Harry for "Bagging a real looker". They both could not stop blushing at that one. Allthough they did realize that their was truth in that statement. Fleur knew that her body was considered beautiful to many with her hour glass figure and her large E cup breasts. But she also knew that Harry was one of those people that did not care for her looks and saw her for who she was. That was one of the reasons she loved him so much And then soon afterwords everyone broke off into conversation. Thankfully both Harry and Fleurs friend groups got along fine with each other. It helped that her friends had a good knowledge of English. Their conversations soon turned quite pleasant. "I will say the architecture here is quite impressive," Cosette remarked as the Beauxbatons students began to converse quietly, awaiting everyone else to sit down. "Obviously I prefer Beauxbatons, but this will suffice for the year, don't you think Fleur?" "Yes, it's quite cozy," Fleur replied as Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Karkaroff filed in and sat at the long High Table at the very back of the hall. Dumbledore remained standing and the hall became silent almost immediately. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests," said Dumbledore, beaming at the foreign students and Hogwarts students alike. "I am honored and have the great pleasure of welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." "The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," continued Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" The moment Dumbledore sat down, Fleur saw the empty plates in front of her immediately filled with food. She noticed some French dishes were mixed in along with the English dishes that seemed to be rather different in design and style. At once her friends engaged in conversation and she talked with Harry. "So, who do you think will be the Durmstrang and Hogwarts champion?" Catherine asked them as she began to eat a plate of ratatouille. They all shrugged. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX After dinner was completed, Dumbledore stood up once again and began to talk more about the tournament. 'Now that our guests have arrived it is time we come to the main attraction of the year.' The headmaster approached the lectern at the head of the hall. 'It is time for the Triwizard Tournament to begin, but first, the rules.' 'First of all, it should be made very clear that nobody below the age of seventeen is allowed to enter.' The hall erupted into groans of disappointment. Fleur watched as he then introduced Department Heads from the British Ministry of Magic (Bartemius Crouch of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Ludo Bagman of the Department of Magical Games and Sports). He then proceeded to talk about the champions, which was when Fleur and everyone around her immediately focused their attention on Dumbledore. Dumbledore, noticing the sudden attentiveness of the students, smiled and said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch." Everyone turned to watch Filch approach Dumbledore carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels. Many students started to murmur in excitement as the chest was placed carefully on the table before Dumbledore. "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore. "Necessary arrangements have been made in preparation for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger." "As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," continued Dumbledore. "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked based on how well they perform each task and the winner of the Triwizard Cup will be announced at the end of the third task. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire." Dumbledore took his wand out and tapped it on the lid of the chest, which slowly opened to present a large wooden cup that had blue and white flames dancing within. The goblet was carefully placed on top of the closed chest, where it was visible for everyone in the Hall to see. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, on Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. This goblet will remain here, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete." "To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes, as he looked around at the various Hogwarts students (his eyes lingered on the Weasley twins), "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line." Most of the students in the hall had already started searching for pieces of parchment, ink, and quills during Dumbledores speech as if the first few to enter might have some advantage. "I must warn all that wish to compete; this tournament is not to be taken lightly. Once selected by the Goblet of Fire, you are obliged to see the tournament through to the end, as selection constitutes a binding, magical contract. Once you become a champion, you remain a champion. Therefore, please be certain that you are willing to participate in the tournament. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

Nia had no idea where she was. Sharp light stabbed against her eyes the moment she opened them, forcing her to close them again with a hiss. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue thick in her throat. She’d felt this way before, usually after coming out of some pretty heavy-duty anaesthesia, but whatever this stuff was, the dosage had definitely not been medically advisable. It slugged through her body, making the room spin when she tried to catch a glimpse of her surroundings. Nia swallowed sharply, urging away the vertigo before giving it another shot. This time, the world stabilised. Which didn’t exactly help. She wasn’t anywhere she recognised. The room was large, cold, empty - probably some kind of warehouse. An onset of grey-on-grey stared back at her, a mile of concrete beneath her feet. The light responsible for her pounding head was a fluorescent panel in the ceiling, blinking intermittently. Nia groaned. What the hell had happened? When she’d gained enough of her senses, she surveyed her body. She was sat in a sturdy chair, the metal of which bled cold through her bones, even through her costume. Instinctively, Nia reached for her face, wary that her mask might have been removed, only to jerk in belated surprise when her arms remained exactly where they were, causing an ache to jolt sharply through her joints. Nia blinked down at the heavy-duty cuffs locking her wrists into place. The sight of them reminded her none to gently of an all too familiar scenario. A warehouse just like this, when she and Brainy had been separated from each other, when- Oh, god. Brainy. They’d been together, right? Ferociously, Nia wracked her brain for an answer, but she came up blank. Whatever drug her captors had used had a hell of a kick to it, she was barely able to focus on anything at all. But something in her gut told her that she hadn’t been alone tonight, that she’d been patrolling with a partner. With- “’ia?” Nia jerked back in surprise, gasping when the chair dug into her spine. Something flashed in front of her, a static burst of colour before it petered out again. Nia blinked, her mouth falling open in confusion. Part of her was pretty sure she was hallucinating. But then it happened again. “Nia!” A bigger burst of static and, this time, a shape. A very person-sized shape, appearing before her like some kind of apparition. Wait, no- not apparition… There was a pop in the air, another buzz of electric distortion, and then Brainy’s image fully actualised itself in front of her.   He was in his new costume, the light cores of which glowed with a shocking brightness even in holographic-form. Nia thought she remembered that, remembered being out with him, relaying with Kara over comms. But then their comms had gone dark. An ambush. Too many people far too quickly for either of them to calculate. Nia hadn’t had a dream about it, or maybe she had…? It was all so blurry, so difficult to piece together. And her head still hurt. “Nia? Can you hear me?” Nia blinked. Brainy’s dark hair was a little frazzled, his eyes wide and incredibly concerned. He was scanning every inch of her, no doubt already putting a plan into place. She nodded weakly. “I hear you,” she said, clearing her throat with some effort. “Where are you?” “I imagine not far, or else the projected image may not have held,” Brainy said, eyes narrowing as he glanced somewhere over Nia’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, my position is no better than yours.” “Did they drug us?” “I believe so. A crude composition, but non-lethal. I was able to filter it from my systems.” He winced. “I wish I could do the same for you.” Nia smiled at that. “It’s fine, Brainy, I can deal with it.” She flexed her hands experimentally, waiting for a spike in her wrists to signal her dream energy’s presence. When she felt nothing, she dug deeper, hoping for the usual electric warmth that filled her chest and stomach just before she summoned it through her fingers. Again, nothing. An inkling of panic worked its way into her throat. “Brainy,” she said carefully. “Why can’t I use my powers?” Brainy’s expression turned serious. “Short range energy inhibitors. It appears they knew enough of your powers to ensure their necessity, although they do not seem to know of my physiology, which at least allows us to communicate.” His eyes narrowed again. “I have had a chance to study the inhibitors visually; they are far weaker than your capabilities, Nia. I can talk you through how to bypass them if you will let me.” He lifted his arm as though to conduct his explanation, only to immediately drop it again. Nia watched in alarm as Brainy's image flickered. When it returned, he bent in on himself with a hiss. Nia’s heart dropped. “Brainy, what- hey, what’s wrong?” “It’s fine,” Brainy said, although he still hadn’t been able to fully stand upright again. His dark hair curtained his face, but Nia could see the pain creasing the corners of his eyes, twisting his lips into a tight grimace. “Everything will be fine. I just-” He winced again, running his arm around his ribs. “The countermeasures I inputted to numb the pain have worn off, that’s all.” Nia jerked at that, the anaesthesia all but forgotten. “Brainy. What pain?” “It’s nothing,” Brainy gritted. “Just- just, please, listen to my instructions.” But Nia wasn’t hearing him anymore. Blood was rushing through her ears, hot and fast. “Why can’t you get out?” she demanded. She glanced at her bindings. “These cuffs, they’re electronic, right? If they’re not using power dampeners on you, then-” “It’s nothing,” Brainy said again, shaking his head. “A mild concussion. I have had worse.” “Oh yeah? Then what’s wrong with your chest?” “Nia, please, for right now, I need you to-” Nia didn’t let him finish. Instead, she closed her mind off to the world entirely. She was well practiced in the art of astral projection by now, and although she still overshot it at times, with the energy suddenly coursing through her, she realised Brainy’s walk-through wouldn’t be necessary. Her dream energy surrounded her heart like a welcoming hearth, a calming blue haze drowning out her vision just before she lost the connection to her body entirely. Sometimes, it took so much to connect to a specific person, but every thought Nia had at that moment was reserved for Brainy, concern for him so powerful it left a physical ache in her chest. It only took seconds for her to actualise in front of him. That’s when she saw it. All of it. Nia's chest locked. Brainy had been hiding a lot from her with his hologram. For starters, in the real world, his image inducer had been knocked out. His green skin was paler than it should have been, and there was a deep gash sliced into Brainy’s bottom lip. His blond hair clung to his face, loose strands congealed and stuck to his mouth with dry blood. His cheek was swollen, bruising that was far too fresh to appear clearly already working its way along his jawline. His eyes were closed and dusted with shadow as his expression flickered, his own mind so far away, focused adamantly - she realised - on projecting a perfect image that wouldn't cause her concern. Nia’s stomach bubbled. There was clearly more damage beneath his clothes if the way he was hunched in on himself was any indicator. Nia thought back to the way Brainy had crumpled in on himself, how he had cradled his chest as though something had been broken on the inside.  Something white hot flashed in the back of Nia's eyes. Brainy had told her the truth about the cuffs, they looked about the same as hers, the room just as wide and forebodingly bare. He should have been able to break free, but if what he’d said about a concussion was right… Those bastards. They’d hurt him in a way they probably didn’t even realise, but that didn't matter. It was clear what this had been for. Nia had heard of it before. Goons grabbing vigilantes off the streets, beating them to an inch of their life in the hopes of finding Supergirl’s whereabouts, Supergirl’s identity. Nia had no doubt in her mind that this was exactly that, she didn’t need a dream or a vision or anything to tell her as much. Her hands burned. That’s why Brainy had been so desperate to get her out. Because he’d been hurt, because he’d known she’d be next, because- Nia’s rage surged into her arms, shooting into her wrists. By the time the energy had actualised itself in her palms, she was back in her own body again, the solidity of the chair helping her collect her bearings. She clenched her hands as the energy finally built to a crescendo, raring to go in the form of a destructive blast. Blue light exploded from her hands; Nia gritted her teeth with the shock of it. There was a clash of metal before the cuffs were flung from her wrists so harshly that they snapped from their hinges, shooting halfway across the room before scattering across the concrete. Nia stood fluidly. Ignoring the vertigo, ignoring the ache in her head. None of that mattered. She had enough rage to fuel her, enough to find whoever was responsible for this and destroy them. Brainy’s eyes flickered with surprise before relief overtook his expression. He still had an arm wound around his diaphragm and, desperately, Nia wanted to reach out for him. But his image wasn’t real. No, the real Brainy was somewhere in this warehouse, bleeding and injured. In need of her help. “Don’t move,” Nia said tersely. “I’m coming for you and then we’re both getting out of here.” She flared her hands, bright blue curls of energy sparking from every digit. “If these assholes try to stop us, I'll turn their whole world into a living nightmare.”

Minho easily falls back into a routine after spring break, from home to school to back home again. Sometimes he still meets up with Changbin, but with college getting closer the older has started to pick up more shifts to earn more money and so most of the time Minho just accompanies the older at the cafe he works at.   The thought of running away with Changbin, starting a new life and spending his time studying dance again is the only thing that still keeps him going. Even when school days are like living hell for him and at this point Minho’s pretty sure there’s not a single soul here who hasn’t heard about his sexuality.   He’s still anxiously waiting for Mrs. Han to say something. He knows she must’ve heard about it too. Everytime Minho walks around the Han’s household, he feels like he’s stepping on glass, waiting for it to break under him.   Being tossed around and teased by his schoolmates for years, Minho doesn’t really pay that much attention to the snarling and ugly remarks being thrown his way every time he walks through the school halls. It’s only the word faggot that seriously stops his heart for a whole minute and makes him want to vomit, but as time passes by, he stops noticing it too.   He feels emotionless, tired, broken, like an old toy that no one cares about. The only time he truly smiles is with Changbin, and he knows it’s not healthy nor good but there’s nothing he can do. It’s too late for Minho to start again in this town. He just needs to survive until he can finally leave for good.   He’s made up his mind.   Wanting to stay here for Jisung was a crazy and reckless idea, just a stupid feeling he had. Jisung will feel better once Minho leaves, he’s sure about it. Mrs. Han and Jisung have done nothing wrong and they don’t deserve to be around his miserable, unlucky ass. They deserve to be happy. Free.   The more he thinks about it, the more he feels like he doesn’t deserve to be in this car right now, breathing the same precious air as Mrs. Han and Jisung. He should get out, stop wasting their air, stop being in their way. He’s never been good at reading his own emotions, but right now he feels like a knife is scratching the inside of his throat and he’s gonna cry. He’s gonna sob so loud if he doesn’t run away right now. Away from his thoughts and this place and Han Jisung who’s currently pressing his thigh against Minho’s and looking at him with full concern in his eyes.   He’s never seen Minho cry and he never will.   “Are you okay?” Jisung whispers, probably trying not to catch Mrs. Han’s attention. She would worry too much.   “Yeah,” Minho says, blinking away the tears. Jisung’s skin is hot against his and it somehow calms him down, even if the thought of the younger seeing him cry had his heart beating out of his chest just a second ago. Minho really wants to hide everything from Jisung.   He’s calm. He’s okay. But he hates himself for letting Jisung control his emotions. He’s weak. He will never be okay.   “We’re here.” Mrs. Han finally chirps from the driver’s seat as she parks their car close to the church and Minho basically falls out of the car as he rushes to open the door. One more minute in that car and his thoughts would have suffocated him. And maybe Jisung’s body heat too. Minho walks behind Mrs. Han and Jisung as the two greet their neighbours and friends, all walking the same path to the only church in this town, gathering all the people Minho dislikes or really doesn’t care about. It’s only Minho’s luck that his parents’ death anniversary fell on the same day as sunday church service.   No one seems to think about it yet, maybe they don’t even remember right now, but Minho knows his parents death will be mentioned in today’s speech and it’s gonna crush another piece of Minho’s soul. Like for the past seven years it has. Every single spring.   They go to the last aisle and Minho lets Mrs. Han and Jisung sit down first before he takes the last place, ready to run out of here the minute they’re done talking about God. And Minho’s parents. He’s like a ticking time-bomb, knowing it’s only gonna get worse as time goes on. Thankfully Jisung nor his mother notice anything, or even if they do, they don’t mention it.   There’s not much they could say anyway. It’s not like they can just fix this with some meaningless sentences.   Minho just quietly listens to the priest, lets all the words go in from one ear and out from the other. He waits and waits and waits, waits for this to finally be over so he can go and see his parents graves. Be alone with them.   He’s so engrossed in his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice the priest talking about his parents, saying how it’s already been 8 years since that tragical night until Jisung looks at him and slightly nudges him. He motions Minho to look down, bow, for the moment of silence. Minho follows him, but he can’t keep his eyes from looking around.   Minho watches as everyone lowers their heads for his father, his mother, mourning them. It’s unbelievable. He watches all the happy kids sitting next to their parents. He watches the priest from the corner of his eye and can’t help but think if God really cares about his people, why did he make Minho suffer so much? Some lessons we really only learn through pain, but this is too much pain for anyone to handle. And Minho doesn’t even get the lesson he’s supposed to learn through this. Trust no one? “I-I’m gonna go for a walk.” Minho motions to the back of the church. “You can go home without me, if that’s okay.”   “Oh, honey, are you sure?” Mrs. Han asks, her warm hands holding Minho by his shoulders. She’s worried and Minho hates it. He never lets her worry. But lately, with the shit that’s been going on, Minho’s walls have started to crumble down and you really can’t blame him.   “Yeah, I’m sure. Don’t worry.” Minho says, taking a step back. He misses the warmth of Mrs. Han, but one more second here and he might do something stupid. Something he would regret later.   Like breaking down in tears.   “What if Jisung comes with you?” She says, but Minho’s already out of their reach and so he decides not to say anything as he pushes past a couple of people walking by. Minho knows Jisung won’t follow him. He lets himself think he knows Jisung atleast that much. The graveyard is beautiful like always. It’s clean and taken care of, and the peaceful sight itself brings back so many memories. Good and bad - Minho has spent a lot of his time here. That’s why he didn’t even have to think, his legs were moving on his own.   But he knows today, out of all the days he’s been here, is different. He doesn’t sit on the white bench by his parents grave nor does he just stand there. He feels his legs collapse underneath him the minute he sees the familiar place and he just falls down on the ground without much thinking. He’s tired, he’s so incredibly tired and his life really has hit rock bottom.   Minho doesn’t know what to do as he stares at the ground where his parents are supposed to be.   He doesn’t blame anyone, it’s really no one’s fault that he has no parents, but he can’t help but think why him out of all the people? Most of the people here in this horrible town have their parents, their own home, but it just had to be Lee Minho who lost his.   It’s shitty and crappy and Minho finally feels sorry for himself. He feels all the cries he has never left out in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his throat. It stings. He knows he’s crying, oh, he’s crying so loud but he doesn’t care.   Lee Minho never cries.   What a bullshit.   “Minho hyung?” A warm hand rests on his shoulder and Minho jumps back a little, he hadn’t heard anyone coming. Well, he hadn’t really been paying attention anyway.   Minho looks up to the owner of the voice and at first doesn’t believe his eyes.   Because looking right back at him is Han Jisung. Han Jisung with his beautiful eyes filled with concern and confusion. He has never seen Minho cry before.   “You shouldn’t be here.” Minho tries to wipe his tears away but he knows his face is bloated and his cheeks are red and there’s just no way hiding this from Jisung. There’s no way Jisung won’t think differently of him now. Fuck   “Minho hyung, it’s okay.” Jisung leans closer to Minho, his other hand gently lifting Minho’s chin. His touch is warm and so so caring. “Please don’t cry anymore.”   Truth be told, as Minho stares into Jisung’s brown eyes, looks at the curve of his small nose and plump lips, the last thing he wants to do is cry. So maybe love does really work wonders, considering how he had been crying his soul out just a minute ago, but now he feels nothing and everything at the same time. It’s overwhelming.   Jisung is overwhelming.   And he’s too fucking close.   At the end, Minho isn’t sure about who closes the gap between them, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. They kiss slowly and gently, there’s feelings and passion and so much hurt hidden in it and Minho loves every second of it. He loves how Jisung almost whimpers out loud and how shy and careful he is.   The Jisung kissing him right now is a completely different person from the Jisung Minho is used to.   And Minho knows better not to get used to this.      

It was now summer and the weather was touch 90 degrees everyday. Lucky for me, Jason's family has a pool that is quite large and beautiful. I decided to accept the offer made by Jason to come over on a Saturday and enjoy the pool. I appeared at the gate to their back yard around two in the afternoon. I opened the latch and let myself in. I came down the walk and past the hedges and I saw a truly beautiful site. I saw Jason's mom wearing an extremely tight fitting all black bikini. I knew she was in great shape for a women her age but I was truly shocked! Her long gray tinged brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. She had the body of a teenager, all tight and thin and sexy. She looked like an older Jennifer Love Hewitt. She had nice size breast for a woman her size; they had to be small b cups. She saw me and waved. "Hi Sarah! How is my little nudist?” she said with a wink. I smiled and said I was feeling good. She looked my body up and down and said, "Where is your bathing suit?" I said it was in my bag and excused myself to go to the changing room. She looked and me and said, "You don't need to worry about that Sarah. Its not like I haven't seen you before." I was surprised to say the least. I thought about it for a second, was had to be a recipe for disaster, but then the exhibitionist in me took over. I smiled at Jason's mom and I grabbed my tank top at my shoulders and gave a good yank. I pulled the fabric over my head and stood there in my bra in front of my boyfriend's mom. I then reached behind my back and took a deep breath. I unhooked my bra and I let it fall on the grass. Jason's mom didn't say a thing. She just watched. I then proceeded to unzip my pants and they dropped on the ground. I grabbed the waistband of my panties and gave a quick pull. I was now completely nude in front of my boyfriend’s mom. I started to wonder if I should get into my suit right away or let this moment last for as long as I could stretch it. I decided to stretch it. I leaned back and straighten my back so she could see me in all my naked glory. I asked her where Jason was as I proceeded to look through my bag for my bathing suit. She told me Jason and his father went to the pool store to purchase some chlorine they should be back at anytime. I continued to ruffle though my bag and looked for my bikini. “I think I must have left it in my car. Darn it. I don’t want to put all my clothes back on. This sucks.” “Here honey”, said Jason’s mom, “just wrap my towel around yourself.” I took her towel and wrapped it around my waist and headed towards the gate. It was such a turn on thinking about walking out to the curb with my breast exposed. I came to the gate and my heart was racing. I lifted the latch and proceeded outside the fence. I didn’t see anybody as I slowly crept to the car parked on the curb in front of the house. My pussy was almost dripping it was so wet. I got to my car and saw my bikini on the floor in the back. I was just about to grab it when I changed my mind. This day was getting interesting and my bikini would only get in the way. I turned around and walked back towards the gate. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jason’s elderly neighbor staring at my naked tits! I just waved to him and said “Nice day isn’t it?” I don’t think he would complain! I walked back to the pool and said, “I can’t find that darn thing anywhere. Whatever shall I do?” “Don’t worry about it Sarah. You don’t have to pretend that you can’t find your suit. I have the feeling you just want to be naked in front of me and my family. Am I right?” I lowered my head. “Your right. I’m sorry for lying. I can get dressed if you want me too.” “You don’t have to apologize Sarah. When I was your age I never wore clothes unless I was at school or church,” She laughed and continued, “If I still had a body like your I might join you.” I was about to tell her that her body was as good as mine if not better but I decided there was a better way to express this. I walked up in front of her, our breast almost touching. I reached around her neck and in a quick motion I untied her bikini top and I watched as it fell around her waist. Her breasts were simply perfect and her nipples were small and perky. I reached around her back to unhook her straps and our nipples pressed together. I unhooked her straps and her bra fell on the ground. I didn’t know what to do next but then I heard a loud noise to my right. I looked over and saw Jason and his father with their mouths gaping open and the bucket of chlorine on the ground. “Hey guys. Sarah is here. I hope you don’t mind if she swims nude. It makes her feel more comfortable.” Not surprisingly, Jason and his Dad were very agreeable. I decided to break the tension by taking off my towel and jumping in the pool. Jason and his Dad went to their bedrooms to change and Jason’s mom, still topless, hoped into the pool with me. It seems to take 20 seconds for the two men to change into their suits. I could clearly see the bulges in both of their trunks and they came to the pool. They jumped in and everybody tried to act normal. But with two topless females, this swim was anything but normal. We swam, we tanned, we sat around the patio table and chatted and I never bothered to put my clothes on or wrap a towel around me. I was surprised to see Jason’s mother didn’t bother to cover herself either. I said, “Now I can see why you are always so horny Jason. With a mom like that you should be.” Everybody thought this was funny but I could see the lust in his eyes. Imagine discovering someone your mother turned out to be an exhibitionist and a very sexy one at that. I wondered if their house would ever be the same after today. We swam for a while longer and it was getting near dark. I didn’t want the day to end but I had to work early the next morning and I would have to at least get myself off twice before I go to bed. I said goodbye to Jason and his parents and then I put my bag over my shoulder and walked to the gate naked. “Mom do you mind washing these clothes for me? I can pick them up tomorrow after work.” She smiled and said yes as I walk out of the gate once again nude. I saw the same elderly neighbor in his yard. I don’t think he had moved since six hours before. I waved and told him I would be by tomorrow. I couldn’t wait to get home and masturbate myself to sleep.

“Okay, are you ready?”   “Yes!” Tommy whined. “You’ve been talking for at least thirty minutes!” Phil had offered to teach Tommy to fly because–well, he literally had his wings for what, a few weeks? Not that he told Phil that. Just that he didn’t really have anyone to teach him.  When he offered, long after his leg was healed, Tommy was expecting to start the flying bit straight away, but apparently, there were more important things than flinging himself off of a cliff and hoping for the best.    Important things like the wing movements, what feathers did the actual flying parts, and which were just for show.    God, Tommy didn’t even know how actual birds dealt with that. Maybe it was just Phil’s overprotectiveness.   “Okay… but we are not jumping off of a cliff! This is a good place to start, a hill, which you will be able to glide off of.”   “Oh, come on! All the mama birds push their babies out of their nest!”    Phil huffed, crossing his arms and giving Tommy a look similar to one a father would to a disciplined child. “Well, I’m a good mama bird!”   They both froze at that, a red coming up on their faces. Thankfully, Phil didn’t comment on it, choosing instead to walk towards the ledge.   “Okay, so how do I do this– do I jus–”   And then, as if to challenge what Tommy said, Phil pushed him off the hill. Tommy screamed, the manliest scream ever, a screech so loud that it felt like his lungs were on fire.   And at first, Tommy felt like he was flying. The wind flowed through his feathers as he soared through the sky with ease. It felt so freeing. If he was a bird, he would probably never leave the sky.   And then he fell.   Tommy tumbled into the grass, falling on his butt. Phil was there in less than a second, huddling closer to Tommy than anyone has ever done, checking his arms and legs for injuries, and then– his hands were in Tommy’s wings, and he couldn't help but freeze up.    A chirp left his lips before he had a chance to stop it and he is quick to cover it with a cough. Phil paused, eyes dilated and breath stuck in his chest. When he got his breathing back to normal, he gave Tommy a gentle smile and chirped right back to him.   Tommy chirped again, sounding strangled by his attempts to keep it down, and he scowled.   “It’s natural, mate. Don’t try to stop it.”    “But it’s fucking weird!”   “Who’s going to judge you, the crows?” Phil turned back to the hill where all the crows were cawing and jumping, a few flying over when the two looked at them.   “Well–”   “I am literally a bird too,” Phil laughed.   “Okay, fair…” Tommy groaned, leaning back to lay in the grass. It tickled his wings and they fluff up. Phil booped his nose and Tommy’s face scrunched up. The older blonde cackled, pulling his wing in front of himself, and started pulling at the loose and disorganized feathers.   Tommy perked up, watching with fascination as he went through each and every one with great precision and practice. Phil seemed to notice this because his hands stopped moving, Tommy meets his eyes and kind smile. It made Tommy’s heart ache, it had been so long since anyone had ever looked at him with a look of real care. Not that Phil cared about Tommy, no one did, and he was fine with that. Phil was just pitying him.   “Do you want to try?”   Tommy sputtered, looking away, picking at a scab on his hand in an attempt to do something, anything, to distract himself from his irritating thoughts. “Oh no, no, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”   “No mate, really! I don’t mind.” Phil spread his wing over Tommy’s lap, his own wings shivered slightly for some undetermined reason, a curious trill bubbling up in his throat. “You know how to preen, right?”   I didn’t even know that birds preened their wings until two days ago, Tommy thought with furrowed brows, but he nodded anyway, hesitantly placing his hands on the wing while Phil moved on to the other one– apparently okay with Tommy touching his wing. The amount of trust that Phil had put in him was probably more than anyone he knew from before he died.   Was he even dead? Maybe in a coma. Are people able to know that they are in a coma? If that’s the case, then he was probably dead. Maybe you can remember your past life in the afterlife.     Or this was his limbo. Maybe everyone he loved in this world would die repeatedly as punishment for killing h–   “Tommy?”   “Oh right, sorry.” Tommy ran a hand down the wing, it was soft. The feathers were silky black like the crows that follow him around, and they look so nice and flawless. How could anyone find anything bad about them! He sighed, all he had to do was find the dirt and pull out the broken feathers. Easy, right?   Wrong. They look practically flawless, it was a shock Phil was able to find anything wrong with them .   But, it seemed as the gods were on his side, for he found one out of place and yanked. Obviously, that was probably not the smartest thing to do because Phil squawked, blood dripping down the limb. He pulled his wing out of Tommy’s lap and his stomach turned.   “Mate– seriously?” Tommy wilted when he glared at him with great annoyance. The look softened at his fearful expression, but then he just looked disappointed, which Tommy didn't think was any better.   He sighed. “It’s fine, please be careful, okay?” And then the wing was placed back on his lap. Phil confused Tommy greatly. Even after he had injured Phil, he still trusted Tommy? He looked back to the wing, and there was a string of blood dripping down it in the area where Tommy had plucked his feather, soaking the others around it.   Guilt ate him from the inside, out. His shoulders tensed as he decided to just run his fingers through the wing instead. It looked fine anyways.   In the end, Phil didn’t seem to mind, and they spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around in the grass, sure, it wasnt a great start to his flying experience but at least he got to make some pretty flower crowns with the pink carnation patch he found just a little ways away. The two were lounging outside of the house eating lunch. Phil had made them some sandwiches, and Tommy found it amusing to make the crows bring him gifts for crumbs. Snickering when one of them brought a gapple from Phil’s chest, said man scowled at the bird and shooed the rest of them off, ending their little game.   But then one particular bird came flying over with a piece of paper in it’s beak and Phil gasped, heading towards the new bird with eagerness.   Tommy perked up as well, joints popping when he stood up to investigate. “What is it?” He asked, curiously peaked as Phil untied the string tying it together and unraveled the papers. One of them was a photograph of two guys looking to be in their early twenties, shoulder to shoulder with big grins on their faces as they faced the camera. The one on the left, a brunette, had an obnoxiously orange coat. The sleeves were black with little pockets scattered around the fabric, cuffs striped orange against black, and his pants… his pants were as well, neon orange. It was truly blinding. On his back were two huge brown and black speckled wings, one wrapped around the other guy, while the other limb was folded neatly behind his back.   Thankfully, the other man has better taste in clothing, wearing a standard black suit with a red tie. His brown, fluffy hair had a pair of curly ram horns, twisting down and under his non-human looking ears, rather fluffy and animal like.   One of the papers was a flyer. The title reading ‘EARTH SMP’ in big text. The rest of the writing was information that Tommy was quick to skim over before Phil’s eyes moved to the next piece of paper. That one seemed like more of a personal letter, so Tommy decided not to read it.    Phil gasped and Tommy’s wings fluffed up.   “What is it?”   “Oh, it’s just Wilbur! He’s starting up an SMP!” Phil smiled at him with an excited grin and Tommy tilted his head, confused. More than one question bubbling up in his thoughts.   “Who is Wilbur?”   Phil hummed subconsciously, looking back to the letter to read over it again.    “Wilbur? He’s my son.”

When the first rays of light pierced the darkness of the pastures, paddocks, and barns, Jaime was leading Donus into the arena. For about thirty minutes daily he got out of his head and became part of Donus. Claire watched him from the bedroom window and was captivated. Her guilty pleasure in life was staring at this man when no one would see her. After his usual course of heart-stopping jumps he walked Donus smiling and laughing as he talked to him. Jaime jumped down and ran for the arena gate. It took Donus three seconds to gallop after him coming to skid stop at his right shoulder. Jaime looked up at the huge gelding laughing and rubbing his neck. Claire watched Jaime, unguarded and playful. “In the distance between the arena and barn, the rider gives way to the businessman.” She said out loud. Claire went home to work on her pool before meeting with Lance. She didn’t mind the weight training now that she wasn’t sore anymore. She knew she was stronger for it and that is what mattered. Lance had Claire lay on her side on the mat, one leg extended. He placed a thirty-pound disc on her inner thigh and told her to lift it off the ground. Jaime slipped into the gym and watched them from behind the observation window. Lance saw him, smiled and waved. Jaime could see Claire struggling. Her face was red and her leg was starting to shake. He saw her bare down and grit her teeth. Jaime was done watching her suffer and shot a look at Lance that said I’m going to kill you if you don’t let her stop. Lance laughed and shook his head no. Jaime couldn’t cope so he left and punched his truck before he got in. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Lance’s number to leave a message.”Hey, it’s Jamie. Claire needs the best possible cardio boost she can get in three weeks. She can’t run like she wanted so can you give her some options. Thanks Lance, you and Missy should come for barbeque. As soon as we get back from Claire’s show we’ll do it.” Jamie walked into the barn and almost ran into a striking gentleman waiting for Claire. Jaime decided he was Hollywood handsome with a British accent and impeccable manners. “I have an appointment with doctor Beauchamp. My name is doctor Ethan Grey.” Jaime felt his spine stiffen. “She willna be back soon, can I help ye with somethin.” Dr. Grey was almost as tall as Jaime, easily meeting his eyes. “Has she found someone to manage the equine therapy horses she brought from Boston?” Jaime held his chin for a moment, “ah! Yes, she surely has. A very nice lass has already agreed and doctor Beauchamp trusts her implicitly. So… I can tell her ye came by.” Grey pulled a business card from his perfectly tailored breast pocket. “Thank you, sir. Who are you?” the doctor leaned in slightly. “Jaime Fraser.” ‘Her everything’ he wanted to say. He waved goodbye to the duped doctor and marveled at his complete lack of guilt or conscience. Jaime had a secret he shared with no one, he smiled at the warmth he felt by it. That is my future wife yer askin about doctor Grey. She’ll no see the likes of ye until her name and mine are the same. Jaime’s mam taught him about the sanctity of marriage that would bind him to one woman for the rest of his life. During his years as a rider, he often wondered if there could ever be one woman to claim his heart for eternity. He rather doubted It. His life was a smorgasbord of women that was continuously refreshed. He wondered if he would have seen Claire as unforgettable then. He rather thought he would. A diamond is a diamond no matter where or when you see it. Jaime looked through his mail and pulled out a heavy linen envelope from the Arizona Equestrian Association. The annual auction to raise money for the coming year. Jaime always attended and donated something of value to do his part. He wasn’t crazy about cocktail parties with the elite but hopefully this year he would introduce his new rider and maybe pull the interest of new investors. He brought back the image of Claire gritting her teeth to hold the weight up off the floor. The lass wants it. Like he wanted it. When she’s strong enough, she will pull the rest of Jag’s power out and they will be unstoppable. Jag was young, only five years old, and giving about fifty percent of his ability. If she wins Novice he could ask sixty thousand for him. But, it ceased being about the money a while ago. Maybe it was when he saw Claire sitting on the coral bars reading to him. Or when he first saw them jump the cross country. What he did know is Claire surrendered in a hail-Mary-ride and relied on Jag to see her through it. They went in as individuals, they came out as a team. Jag would be officially hers when the transfer of ownership was complete. It will be a surprise and she will be over the moon. What troubled him was Jag might be the very thing that takes her away from him. If she is invited to show abroad will she go? Jaime had to love her enough to let her choose her path, and he would. Claire was helping Rupert get the horses brushed and wrapped for transport to the show. She was riding the two remaining greenies in equitation, dressage, and hunter jumper. She wanted them to sell so she could get them off her to do list. Fred and Ginger got a warm goodbye hug and Claire felt her guilt rising. She ran an online ad for an equine therapy manager and emailed back and forth with numerous interested people. One man stood out. A fellow equestrian and partner in a four-physician pediatric practice. He had the children in need of Fred and Ginger’s special talents and boundless love. She never met the man but he left word at the barn that his plans had changed. Too bad she thought. She only had two more weeks to prepare for the horse trials in Palm Springs. Lance bumped her routine up to include twenty minutes of incline treadmill after every session with him. She hated it but really wanted to live through the four brutal miles of cross country they would ride. Horses loaded, tack stowed, food loaded into Angus’s truck, they were ready to go. Jaime whistled for Pup but no soft brown dog bounded out of the barn. Claire’s heart was in her throat and she started running straight to Jag’s stall. One of the Pony club kids was playing her music excessively loud until Claire’s finger hit the ‘off’ button. Then she heard it. There was only one dog in the world who hupped and she found him growling and pulling on Jag’s halter and hupping to make him stand up. Jag was having none of it and opted to lay in his wood chips and sleep. “C’mon Pup. It’s Jag’s day off and we gotta roll.” She walked briskly back to the truck and Pup was already in Jaime’s lap, tongue out, and panting. “Jesus! I should be sitting in his lap, panting with my tongue out you little idiot.” Jaime laughed as did Claire and they were off. The show was the usual fun, chaotic, two days of events. Rupert and Angus got drunk in the hotel bar, Jaime met with buyers, and Claire’s riding was flawless winning her three of the four events she entered. Her one loss was from number 68 almost falling asleep midway through an eleven jump course. Both horses sold so they would be hauling an empty trailer back tonight. When she got back the hotel she showered and laid on the bed naked feeling dreamy and worn out. Her eyes closed and she slipped in and out of sleep. She dreamed that Jaime’s mouth was kissing her between her legs. She felt his tentative tongue slip in and out of her. She heard herself panting his name and soon figured out this was no erotic dream. His fingers were invading her and tongue flicked her heat until she was groaning. Her legs opened and he finished her savagely. ”Claire was launched into the exquisite bliss while her body pulsed. Jaime kissed her several times before she opened her eyes. “Why are you clothed? Come here and let me fix that.” He stilled her hand. “Canna, must meet the guys for dinner and get on the road.” Claire made a face. That hardly seems fair.” Her sleepy smile made Jaime weak. “I have somethin for ya once yer dressed.” Claire gathered her purse and gave Pup a kiss. “No hupping” she scolded pointing at him. Before she could reach the door Jaime grabbed her and popped the button on her jeans. He lifted her sweater and exposed her nipples. Then he kissed her, long and deep. Asking for her tongue. Claire felt him dab something on her nipples and between her legs. She broke the kiss as he was fixing her sweater and buttoning her jeans. “What on earth was…Christ! What is that, what is so, God almighty, so, oh shit, Jaim…it is so hot.” He smiled at the look of pure arousal on her face. “Ready Sassenach?” She was not able to speak at the moment so he pulled her along. Now Claire, you must pull yourself together he laughed. She walked stiffly, eyes half closed, smiling. Jaime pulled her into the restroom hallway and kissed her. When he touched her nipple she gasped loudly. “I'm not hungry Jaime lets order room service. He pulled her along to the restaurant. The guys congratulated Claire on her wins but she was distracted and flighty. “Ah, myyyy wins…hmm,” several seconds passed, “ah, thank you gentlemen.” Rupert and Angus looked at Jaime with eyebrows raised. “Oh, we started celebratin and Claire’s a bit of a lightweight with alcohol. In other words, the lass is hammered.” The guys were very appreciative of Claire’s condition like she had been inducted into the good-ole-boys club. If either of them had known the look of an aroused woman the ruse would never have worked. Claire would look at each of them now and then and wonder what the conversation was about. Then she would sit back in her chair and feel the magic going on between her legs. Jaime watched her eyes sparkle like diamonds. Her erratic breathing was making it hard for him, literally. Claire was coming back to her senses as dinner was finishing up. Jaime had her dinner in a container because she didn’t take a bite. He shouted for the guys to be careful on the road and they were gone. Once everything was in the trailer they pointed toward Phoenix. Jaime handed Claire a small jar that said Kuma Sutra on it. Inside was a green gelatinous substance that smelled divine. “Is this what you put on me?” Jaime smiled sheepishly, I’m sorry lass! I dinna expect your reaction, just wanted to surprise ye with something nice. It was pushing ten o’clock when they were still an hour away from Phoenix. Claire unbuttoned her shirt and removed it. Jaime paid close attention. She removed her bra and dabbed the green stuff on her nipples. It took about twenty seconds before she started to purr. Next, she took off her boots and pants. Now in her tiny panties, she dabbed the goo on her heat. There was just enough time to smile up at Jaime before, “Oh, Christ! That is, wow… Jaime, oooh it’s getting hotter! He couldn’t watch her wiggle in delight because he was cutting straight across the desert to put some distance between them and the road. He held Claire back when he skidded to a stop and jumped out of the truck. He spread out a bedroll that was kept in the trailer for emergencies and this was the very definition of an emergency. Claire leaned back on the seat and closed her eyes because the feeling of the gel was so intense. She felt Jaime’s arms come under her and she smelled the amazing desert. He laid her on the blanket and started ripping his clothes off watching her spread her legs wide and arch her back. “Holy mother of God” he whispered. He slid next to her and put more goo on her nipples before he sucked one into his mouth. Claire almost screamed. “That is wow.” She forced her eyes open and asked Jaime to sit up on the side of the truck. When he did she put her face in his lap and Jaime closed his eyes when her warm wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock before it slid down him. She rocked back on her heels and then forward until he banged into her throat. She held him and buried her face in his balls coming back to slide her mouth around him again. “Jesus yer good at that lass.” Her eyes shot up to his in delight as she tried to say “really?” But having her mouth full at the moment it was unintelligible. Jaime grabbed her shoulders and dropped onto is back pulling her to straddle him. She lifted up and dropped her body down on him and gasped. Jaime couldn’t help smiling at his uninhibited lover who was demanding, and bold, and highly aroused. It had been weeks since she was in this position and her mind went blank except for the non-stop porn going on in her head... “Lass?” Claire wasn’t moving. She tried so desperately to remember. Jaime could see the goo was wearing off and he finally realized that she didn’t know how to move. “I’m sorry lass.” He sat up inches from her face. Rolled her to her back, “look up love.” She gasped at the sky so full of stars. Another moonless night like when they went to Silly mountain. Jamie was pushing her legs open. Claire tried to keep her eyes open, watching the amazing sky but Jaime’s tongue won and she peeled off for another trip into her orgasm. Jaime laid beside her, his cock like a granite club and waited for Claire. He was definitely getting rid of the gel. It was a bit much for his sweet no-brake Sassenach. But…it won’t hurt to use a little more out here in the desert. He put a large dab on her nipples and clit and counted from twenty to “God…..damn! Ooooh, hot, so hot! Oh my, yesss.” She was squeezing her thighs together so Jaime gently pushed them apart. When the cool night air hit her core she went silent and arched her back pushing her legs open wider. She was panting and asked “please touch it. Right now, touch me.” she whispered. He sucked her nipples and she reached for his hand pulling it to her. “ah, ye want me to touch ye here where ye so wet and swollen? He wasn’t moving his fingers so she moved her hips against them. Jaime was ready to explode watching Claire in this hyperaroused state. Jaime gave Claire the most exquisite orgasm. When she dropped back to earth she wanted more. ”I want you to pound into me and not hold back Jaime, I need a brute right now." One brute coming up! He thought. He spun her around, “drop down to your elbows lass.” When she did he drove himself deep into her. Thrust after thrust she moaned and cried out. His arm came around her and he pulled her up against his chest then pushed her legs wide and sinking deep into her body. “Oh God Jaime!” He pumped her over and over, pushing deep into her. He flipped her around and her legs were up in the air. She wanted nothing in the way of what was coming. He thrust into her, “are ye gonna come for me lass?" He drove into her again. She was panting and growling as Jaime pushed deep into her scraping his stomach against her throbbing. When he knew she was tumbling he let himself become the brute she asked for and finally exploded deep inside her. They clung together, panting and dripping with sweat. She pressed her face into his neck. “God I love you Jaime.” “Sassenach, if ye get any better at doin what ye do to me I will lose my mind,” he panted. He buried his face in her hair and growled pulling great giggles from a smiling Claire. Once they were dressed and back on the road Claire turned on the radio and sang to the western songs. “I am starving! Got any cookies or peanuts in here?” She ran her hand along the cubbies and the dash, looked in the glove box, and her hand ran into the Styrofoam container with her dinner. She leaned her back against Jaime and stuck her feet out the window while she ate ribs and sang him home.

Billy was giving his new job second thoughts for the hundredth time that day as he scanned his security badge into the elevator. A badge that allowed him entrance to a penthouse that the tenants were unable to leave. Frank said it was for their own safety, that the omegas were far too valuable to risk falling into the wrong hands, but Billy had a feeling the omegas’ personal safety was the least of this company's concern. The unfortunate truth, Billy realized, was that he needed the money more than he could afford being critical of his new employers. It still didn’t make it any easier for Billy to wrap his mind around the job. As the elevator doors opened, Billy was struck with how hollow the large apartment felt even compared to yesterday when he first laid eyes on it. He remained in the entryway, unsure how to proceed. Billy was supposed to introduce himself to the omegas and find a rhythm in his new job. But acting as a personal bodyguard to a single person felt a whole helluva lot different compared to this. Billy took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer. Confidence was key when it came to establishing yourself as an authority figure. He was hit with numerous smells and sounds all at once. Happy, chattering voices mixed with breakfast food and multiple omegas. Voices that died down once his presence was noticed. There were six omegas lounging on the plush couches, and one in the kitchen, boys and girls alike. All eyes were on him. Billy cleared his throat. “Hi, My name’s Billy.” He was met with silence. “Uh, I’m your new security guard.” A few of the omegas on the couches shared cautious glances. Billy could smell the fear coming off of some of them. “Listen, I’m just planning on settling in and getting to know everyone. You don’t have to worry about me.” “Wow, you’ve never done this before have you?” An unknown voice spoke up from down the hall. Billy turned to watch an eighth omega enter the kitchen. The first thing he noticed what how unafraid he smelled compared to the other inhabitants. The second was how breathtakingly handsome he was. The omega was wearing dark baggy pj pants and a white cotton t-shirt. The wardrobe seemed to perfectly compliment his thick dark hair that framed soft features and deep brown eyes. Billy thought of a hunting trip Neil took him on long before he ever presented as an alpha. It was the first time he’d ever seen a deer in the wild. A doe with wise bright eyes. She was standing in the middle of a clearing, watching Billy, unblinking and unafraid. Neil shot her clean between the eyes and laughed at Billy when he cried. The brunet staring defiantly at Billy reminded him of that doe as he leaned over and grabbed an orange from the breakfast spread on the kitchen counter. “The last thing Brenner will want you to do is get to know any of us more than you have to.” Billy didn’t fail to notice how the man had strategically placed himself between Billy and the omega girl in the kitchen, or how all the other people in the room seemed to give him their undivided attention. Billy was most likely looking at their de facto leader. Befriending him would probably make his job worlds easier. Billy shrugged. “From my past experience, it’s better if I’m friends with the people I’m supposed to protect.” “Mmm, protect.” The omega repeated. Billy watched as the girl offered the brunet some kind of salve. Without speaking, the omega accepted it and tugged at the neckline of his shirt, revealing a series of bite marks all along his collarbone. He winced as he massaged the ointment into the wounds. “Trust me William, it’ll be better for everyone if you keep your distance.” Billy didn’t know what to say, especially after having his first name thrown back in his face with such vehement rejection. The other man was just verbalizing what Billy had been feeling the entire commute to work. That this company was balancing on the edge of a knife between professionalism and fucked-up, and Billy had made himself partially responsible for it by taking the job. The marks on the omega’s skin only seemed to confirm that feeling. Billy licked his lips before speaking, “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. Hell, you probably have good reason to fear me. But I’m not here to hurt you. I want to help in whatever way I can.” The girl leaned into the other omega and whispered. “He doesn’t talk like the others, Steve.” Billy quickly committed the name to memory. Steve. It suited him, Billy thought as he watched Steve scoff and disappear down the hall back to where the bedrooms were located. The room fell silent again, and not for the first time Billy found himself wishing Frank had given him some kind of roster with everyone’s names on it. This was a lot to remember for the first day, and Billy felt like he was already losing his footing. As if reading his mind, the girl previously standing next to Steve moved forward and extended a hand. “I’m Carol,” she gestured towards the occupants of the living room. “On the couch are Brett and Lori, they’re twins.” The two siblings cautiously waved in response as Carol continued introducing the other omegas. “And that’s Nick, Claire, Tonya, and Beth.” Billy listened intently to Carol, knowing how important it was to be able to quickly identify his new charges. Despite the luxurious setting, Billy felt like he was at a pet shelter looking at a bunch of strays. Brett and Lori were sitting close enough that their legs were pressed against each other, as if physical separation would equate to losing a limb. Beth, a petite woman with olive skin was curled up in the couch corner like a small cat. Billy was sure any sudden movement would send her bolting from sight. Nick reminded Billy of some of the guys he used to know back in California. Sunny bleached blond hair and tanned skin. His cloudy eyes and relaxed posture spoke of years of self-medication. The girl next to Nick, Claire, reminded Billy of his little sister back home. Billy wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing considering where Claire was working, but he couldn’t deny that her fiery red hair and sharp blue eyes brought some familiar comfort. Tonya on the other hand, reminded him of Neil. Her steel grey eyes seemed to be analyzing and picking him apart. The sneer tugging at the corner of her mouth let Billy know that she was not impressed with what she saw. Carol nudged Billy with her shoulder. “Don’t worry about Steve, he’s always a little grumpy in the morning.” “Is he alright?” Billy found himself asking, gesturing to his own collarbone. Carol’s smile faltered as she looked to where Steve used to be. “Some... customers like to get rough with us. Steve volunteers for those clients as much as possible. I think he’s trying to protect us, but it takes a toll.” “It’s not like any of us ask him to do that,” Tonya rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you guys act like he’s such a martyr. The freak probably gets off on those kinds of people.” Billy turned to Carol, ignoring Tonya’s comment. “Does he need anything? Medicine or bandages...?” Carol shook her head. “We get everything we need from the medical wing.” Billy nodded and turned back to where Steve had disappeared. All the different scents in the space were extremely dulled down (probably from the collars), but he still found himself desperately trying to catch a whiff of the omega’s scent. “Were you being serious when you said you wanted to help?” Billy snapped his eyes back to Carol. She was self-consciously tugging at the collar around her neck, her eyes looked cautiously hopeful. He nodded. “Do you think you could get a message to-“ “Carol!” Steve snapped as he walked back into the common area. His eyes were darker, filled with a stern warning as he handed Billy a sheet of paper. “Here’s our weekly schedule. It might help you actually do your job.” Billy accepted the slip of paper and looked around the room at the omegas staring back at him. That’s when he realized... he was just another Frank to these people. Hired muscle. An enforcer. Someone to keep them all in line. It would take a lot more than kind words and a smile to make them see him as anything else. As if on cue the elevator doors pinged open and Frank stepped out. Half the omegas instinctively averted their eyes or shifted to more submissive, unassuming postures. Frank was either oblivious or used to that behavior, because he didn’t miss a beat as he held three small pieces of paper above his head. “Dance-cards are in ladies and gentlemen.” Even Steve’s head snapped to attention as the larger alpha made his way around the room. “Tonya,” Frank read off one of the cards, “you’ve been requested for the end of the week. It’s a new client so go easy on him.” The omega sighed and pouted up at Frank. “Pity, I usually like my alphas with a little bite to them…” Billy didn’t miss Steve huffing a strand of hair out of his face in annoyance. Frank shook his head and stepped away. “Pity I don’t make the rules around here sweetie.” He said with a wink. The exchange left Billy feeling gross. He was beginning to see why Steve was trying to keep him at arm's length from the other omegas. It was too easy for someone like Frank to step in and abuse the power he had over them. Frank walked to the end of the couch. “Twins! Very exciting news. You two are going abroad.” Brett glanced at his sister as he hesitantly accepted the card. “We are?” “Yeah some Ukrainian guy Brenner met is interested in this place. So interested that he’s requested the two of you for the week. We’re leaving in thirty minutes so pack your things.” Lori stood and pulled her brother off the couch and towards the bedrooms. Neither of them looked excited at the news. “Aaaannd last, and arguably least: Carol.” Frank turned on his heels and handed her the last card. “That Williamson guy must have taken a shine to you because he wants another round tonight.” Steve stiffened as Carol took the card. Billy could smell the fear wafting from her as she looked up at Frank. “Tonight? But you’re leaving with the twins so who--?” “Mr. Hargrove over here will escort you.” Frank interrupted and slapped Billy on the back. “I thought you said I wouldn’t be in charge of taking any of the omegas to their appointments.” Billy interjected. He could see Frank’s jaw tighten at being challenged. “Yeah well, your job description just expanded. Congratulations. Carol will show you what to do once you get to the hotel.” The alpha made sure Billy was paying attention as he pointed to the omega in question. “She is not allowed out of your sight. Ever. During transit the windows will remain up and she will not be in contact with anyone except her client. Got it?” Frank didn’t wait to hear his response. Instead he turned and shouted down the hall, “Hey! Dee and Dum! Get your asses moving!” The twins had one bag between the two of them as the darted past Billy, only risking a quick goodbye to the rest of their friends before being herded into the elevator. There was almost a somberness to the way the omegas departed. As the doors closed Billy could almost swear he saw Lori trembling. The remaining occupants stayed motionless for a moment as they heard the elevator descend. “Fuck.” Steve growled and began pacing the kitchen. “They’re going to come back.” Nick offered from where he was still slouched on the sofa. “Really?” Steve rounded on the other omega. “Just like Stacy came back?” Claire leaned forward from where she was sitting. “That was different, Stacey’s contract was up and she was able to go home.” “Yeah I’m sure that’s what they want us to believe.” Steve turned back to the kitchen. There was something about his state that reminded Billy of his life with Neil. Like he was a caged animal that was slowly but surely going crazy. “Well,” Carol began, “I guess I’d better get ready.” She held the card in her hand like it might burn her as she shifted from one foot to the next, clearly nervous. That’s all it took to bring Steve down from whatever manic state he was psyching himself into. Suddenly his fiery eyes were back to soft pools of warmth. “Do you need me to help?” “No, I can manage.” Carol smiled weakly and began to make her way down the hall. Billy once again found himself as a loss for what to do. He never imagined he’d be taking one of the omegas to a client on his first day. That was both an incredible responsibility and a sickening task he didn’t know if he was prepared for. Billy didn’t feel like Frank, he didn’t want to feel like the other alpha. But he wasn’t any closer to the omegas either. He felt stuck somewhere in the middle, unsure as to what side he truly belonged on.   Billy and Carol stood in silence as the elevator descended to the building’s garage. “He is nice when you actually get to know him.” Carol spoke. Billy turned, but the small omega next to him kept her eyes on the doors. “Huh?” “Steve. He’s just angry and misses his friends.” She looked down at her shoes. Something told Billy that Steve wasn’t the only one who missed people on the outside. “Did you two know each other before this?” Carol looked up with a sad smile and nodded. She wasn’t Billy’s type, but there was certainly an undeniable beauty to her features. She reminded him of the women depicted in renaissance paintings. Bright, full-figured, and possessing the perfect harmony of strength and grace. “We went to school together, shared friends, and were planning on going to the same college.” Carol brushed away a tear from her face, careful not to smear her makeup. “Things changed when Steve and I presented as omegas, god that feels so long ago…” Billy offered her a tissue that she graciously accepted. “I think I’d be pretty angry too if I had to leave that life behind.” “Oh, Steve’s not mad about that,” Carol laughed bitterly and shook her head. “His parents sold him to Brenner Relations in exchange for stock in the company. They’re literally making money from whoring their son off to the highest bidder.” Billy felt his stomach churn at Carol’s words. What kind of person does that to their own son? Neil would have, if he had the chance. But he didn’t, because Billy was an alpha. Steve’s hadn’t been that lucky. “I’m sorry.” He offered lamely, knowing that sorry didn’t begin to cover the fucked-up life that these people were coerced into living. “How did you…?” Billy began, unsure if he could, or even wanted to finish the question. “How did I end up here?” Carol finished, handing the tissue back. “Brenner Relations offers a five-year contract to any interested and unbound omega. I get five percent of whatever I make, and I get to keep the clothes and trinkets that clients bought me at the end of the contract.” “Five percent?” Billy stared in surprise. That was nothing! Carol sadly shrugged. “It doesn’t sound like a lot but it’s a pretty sizeable nest-egg for when I get out of here. I couldn’t afford to live anywhere after high school. This place was kind of my only option. I’m actually lucky I got in…” She trailed off, half-heartedly. Billy was still in shock. “You consider yourself lucky to be here?” Carol frowned. “Almost all of us do, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She turned away from Billy, staring resolutely at the empty elevator wall. “How could you?” She whispered, “How could someone who chooses this kind of job ever understand people who never had a choice.”   The hotel suite looked more like an apartment to Billy. But then again, anything would look absolutely lavish compared to the closet he was renting. There was a fully stocked kitchen and spacious bathroom, but the obvious focal point within the space was the queen-sized bed. Billy felt like he was more uneasy than Carol when they entered the room. The omega hadn’t said much on the drive over, but this clearly wasn’t new territory for her. “Banana Bread.” She said as she reached for a wrapped present on the bed. Billy turned in confusion. “Sorry?” Carol unwrapped the gift to reveal a school-girl’s outfit. Her expression remained uncharacteristically blank. “That’s my safeword. If I say it during any part of the night then you need to step in.” “H-how will I hear you? Is there a room I’m going to be listening from…?”” Billy looked around the suite again, but he couldn’t see any obvious spaces. Carol shook her head. “You have to stay and watch.” “Excuse me?” The omega pointed to a chair in the corner of the opposite end of the room. “Frank usually sits there. You don’t have to say or do anything. The client will probably pretend you’re not here anyway. You just need to make sure he doesn’t get too rough.” Billy felt sick to his stomach as he stared at the corner. “How will I know?” Carol shrugged and looked down at the outfit in her hands, gently rubbing the material between her fingers. “If he starts getting too violent. Mostly if he tried to damage this.” She vaguely gestured to the collar around her neck. “I need to get changed. You should probably make yourself comfortable, he’ll be here soon.” Billy sat down in the chair, feeling utterly helpless and out of place. He didn’t know if he could actually go through with this, watching Carol submit to some rich perv. This wasn’t the job he signed up for. With nothing else to do, Billy reached for the “dance card” that Frank had given Carol earlier. At first it looked like some kind of business card, but upon closer inspection Billy realized it was more like a restaurant ticket for sexual fantasies. “Student/Teacher fantasy (uniform provided). Virgin-fantasy. Resistance. Oral & Penetration.” It felt so dehumanizing to see Carol’s night printed out for her like she was some customizable toy. That’s probably all she was in the eyes of her clients. Billy was on the verge of bolting and taking Carol with him when there was a knock at the door. Carol emerged from the bathroom dressed in the school girl’s outfit. “Just remember the safe word.” She whispered to him before reaching for the doorknob. There was a brief moment where Carol seemed to take a deep breath and collect herself before she pulled the door open with a smile. “Mr. Williamson! Thank you so much for coming!” She stepped aside and allowed her client to enter. Whatever Billy was expecting, Williamson did not match up. The guy genuinely looked like a college professor! Which granted, could easily just be part of the fantasy, but Billy’s gut told him this was an outlet for Williamson to experience things he wanted to enact in reality. “Miss Harper,” Williamson removed his glasses and looked her over. “I’m hoping you know why I asked to meet.” Carol brought delicate, painted nails up to her face in contemplation. “I thought you wanted to talk about my grade on the last test.” Williamson smiled and shook his head. For a split second he met Billy eye and they both acknowledged each other’s presence, but then the man slipped back into his fantasy. “As a matter of fact Miss Harper, it’s come to my knowledge that you cheated on that test.” Carol gasped in shock and Billy had to hand it to her, she could sell a scene. “That’s no true! How could you say something like that?” Williamson stepped into Carol’s personal space, backing her up against the bed. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, the school board will have you expelled once they hear about this.” “No.” Carol whispered as she fell onto the bed. “There has to be something you can do, you have to believe me!” Williamson smiled and tugged at one of the buttons on Carols blouse, popping it open and revealing some cleavage. “Well, I’m sure we can come to… some kind of agreement…” Carol’s eyes widened as she held her arms protectively over her chest. “No Mr. Williamson please!” She turned to her side, eyes misting over with tears. “I-I’m saving myself for someone…” There was something to the delivery of that line that struck Billy. It made him wonder if there was someone out there waiting for Carol. Williamson laughed and pulled her hands away. “Frankly my child, I don’t care what you want.” He dove on top of Carol, her screams filling the room as he tore away her clothes and hiked up her skirt, revealing pink lace panties. Billy was frozen on the edge of his seat. His eyes remained focused on Carol’s face, waiting for her to call out her safe word. But it never happened, not when Williamson pinched and twisted her breasts until they were red, or even when he turned her over and forced himself inside her. Carol screamed and cried almost the entire night. But she never called for Billy to save her. The minute Williamson left the apartment, Billy was on his feet and running across the room. “Are you alright?” He reached out, but was afraid to touch her. Carol looked absolutely spent, and there were still tears falling down her face. Her eyes refused to focus, but she managed to give a nod. “C-could you help me to the shower?” Billy didn’t think twice before gently scooping her up and carrying Carol to the bathroom. Even to Billy’s nose, she stank of alpha and sweat. He couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling. Carol stood against the tiled shower and took a few shaky breaths. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks.” Billy didn’t want to leave. But he didn’t want Carol to feel any worse than she obviously already did. Which is why he found himself back in that awful chair, resolutely not looking at the bed and messy sheets in the middle of the room. The only thing he seemed to be able to focus on was the muffled sound of Carol crying.   The drive back home was even worse than the drive to the hotel. Billy felt sick to his stomach, and Carol seemed almost entirely checked out. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?” He offered. Carol slowly turned to stare at him. Her eyes were distant and red-rimmed from the crying. “Can you go back in time and make sure I never present as an omega?” Billy frowned and turned his eyes back to the road. He heard Carol sigh. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” She leaned her head back and stared up at the stars through the car window. “I used to love the stars.” She half-whispered to herself. “I liked the idea that they were somehow responsible for our traits and destinies.” Billy watched as Carol blinked away more tears and stubbornly rubbed at her nose. “But now I hate it. I hate that maybe someone or something out there always meant for me to be an omega, to suffer. The stars seem so cold and far away now. Just like everything else.” The car was once again filled with silence. Billy absently wondered how Frank handled these situations. The shattered aftermath that must have occurred after every client. Frank probably would have kept Carol in the backseat, refusing to acknowledge or attempt to fix any of this wretched night. But Billy wasn’t Frank. He pressed a button on the console, and Carol’s window began to roll down. She stared in surprise at first, her eyes suddenly alert as she turned to Billy, checking to see if this were some kind of trick. He merely kept his eyes on the empty road and gave a small nod. Carol slowly smiled before she leaned out the car window and felt the cold night air blowing past her face for the first time in years, completely disregarding any rules or restrictions that previously held her prisoner. Her thick brown hair blew all around her, tangling carefree in the wind as Carol began to laugh. Her voice sounded raw and scratched, and Billy tried not to think about the night’s events that caused it. Billy still felt sick to his stomach after the hotel room. But a small smile crept along his face as he watched Carol look at the stars and stick her hand out to feel the wind pushing back at her. He might not have been able to protect her from her client. But he could do this. For a small window of time, in the dead of night where no prying eyes or rough voices could hurt her, Carol was free. If only for just a moment. But maybe a moment was enough for now.   By the time they got back to Brenner Relations, the entire building was dark. Carol was still smiling as they rode the elevator up to the penthouse. She hadn’t spoken much, but Billy didn’t expect her to. He was surprised to see Steve waiting for them when the doors opened. The omega was sitting on the couch, a blanket bunched up in his hands as if he had been wringing it all night. “Steve!” Carol whispered and happily bounced into his personal space. Steve stood and pulled her into a hug. “Are you alright?” Carol sighed and nodded into his shoulder. “It wasn’t so bad. He didn’t want me the entire night.” They remained like that for a moment, allowing the two omegas to even out their breathing and relax into each other’s arms. Eventually Steve pulled Carol at arm’s length and looked her over. He frowned when he noticed her wind-blown hair. “What happened to your hair?” He asked, reaching out and trying to detangle the mess on top of her head. “Oh!” Carol smiled and looked over her shoulder. “Billy let me put my head out the window on the drive back. It was amazing, you should have seen the stars!” Billy watched Steve focus on him as if the omega hadn’t noticed his presence until now. Those eyes that were so guarded earlier this morning now held something that resembled soft curiosity. “You did that for her?” Billy shrugged, suddenly extremely self-conscious under Steve’s gaze. What was it about the omega that completely evaporated his defenses? “I… I just wanted to help.” Steve slowly detached himself from Carol and shuffled over to where the alpha still stood in the entryway. For what felt like forever, all Steve did was stare as if he were searching for something in Billy’s deep blue eyes. Whatever it was, Steve must have found it because he slowly offered his hand to the alpha. “Thank you.” Billy felt like a seventeen-year-old with a crush as he shook the omega’s hand, trying not to react to how soft and warm it felt. It was nothing like Frank’s, or any alpha’s handshake for that matter. There was no show of dominance or strength. It felt genuine, and welcoming. “Don’t mention it.” Billy mumbled as he turned back to the elevator. “Good night Billy!” Carol whispered. “Night,” Billy turned back as he walked away, which resulted in him walking into the elevator doors as they opened.  Billy felt like such an embarrassing idiot, until he heard a soft laugh behind him. Turning again, Billy watched as Steve covered his mouth, trying to conceal the grin that had spread across his face. Steve’s laugh wasn’t cruel, or mocking. Billy could listen to that sound for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. As the elevator doors closed in front of him, Billy licked his lips. “Good night Steve.” The elevator began to move downwards. But Billy’s enhanced hearing was still able to pick up the words Steve whispered after the doors closed. “Good night, Billy.”

As Catra slowly exited Adora’s room, she found herself in a large hallway that stretched in both directions. Unsure of which way to go, she decided to head left. The worst thing that could happen was that she would have to turn around, right? Catra kept walking until she seemed to reach the end of the hallway, where she stood in front of two massive doors and heard conversating behind them. Maybe this leads to the great hall? Catra pushed open the door on the right, peaked her head in and immediately regretted her decision. What’s going on here? Inside, sat the Queen of Bright Moon high on her throne, most of the royal guard, some servants and what Catra assumed were other important people based on their uniforms.  It appeared that they were having some kind of meeting? Whatever it was, Catra did not want to stick around to find out. She tried to slowly back her way out of the entrance, but the door let out a loud creak. Suddenly, all eyes were on her, and Catra tensed immediately. Fuck. “Adora? What a pleasant surprise!” The queen greeted her. “I did not request your presence in this gathering today, what brings you in? Oh Gods. Oh Shit! How would Adora respond? Think Catra! Think! Still barely peeking out from between the doorway, Catra tried to think on the spot. She knew that Adora was always respectful to people in charge, even if they were awful people like Shadow Weaver. So, she decided that she should try to keep this conversation very formal and end it as quickly as possible. “Good morning your…majesty. I was… just checking in to see…who was attending this meeting…to make sure that I didn’t need to take notes…for those individuals who did not attend.” Catra smack herself mentally. To her, the answer seemed really dumb, but she hoped the queen would buy it. “Oh, Adora, you know there is no need for you to do that.” Angella spoke softly. “The royal scribe is present at all times, and anyone who misses a meeting can refer back to these notes at any given time.” Catra didn’t know how to respond. The Queen gave her a soft smile before speaking again. “Always thinking about work, aren’t you? Promise me one of these days you’ll take a day off please.” Take a day off? Ppsssstttt. When did Adora ever do that? “Right… the royal scribe… guess I forgot about that. I’ll try to relax more, I promise.” Catra affirmed. Promise. Huh. Probably another one Adora wouldn’t be able to keep even if it came out of Catra’s mind. Catra then realized that she had just been standing there idly in the doorway for a few seconds and decided that this would be her best chance to try an escape this very awkward encounter. “Sorry for the intrusion your majesty, but I should really be on my way, your daughter is waiting for me after all!” She shut the door behind her as quickly as possible and headed off towards the other end of the hall as fast as Adora’s stupid legs would take her. Adora’s body was built for strength, not agility like Catra’s body. Still walking down the hallway, she took in the many murals that seemed to line these walls. She saw many figures she didn’t recognize, but she did spot the Horde soldiers that appeared in some of the murals. Surprisingly, they weren’t portrayed as evil, just as a foe of the Rebellion. Catra just assumed that it probably be too graphic to depict the realities of war on the castle walls. These pictures were meant to tell a story, not to scare the living shit out of Bright Moon’s citizens. She kept walking. In reality, Bright Moon was much easier to navigate than the Horde. At least it would have been if she knew where she was going. Here, it seemed that all rooms and corridors branched out from this main hallway, unlike the Horde where you could get easily lost in the many twists and turns of its layout. Catra took a mental note of Bright Moon for future reference. Never know when I might have to sneak in on a stealth mission, she thought. Not that she had ever thought about sneaking in before. To see Adora. No, never. Finally, Catra found herself in a large open area, which she assumed could only be the great hall. Her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted Glimmer and Bow, who stood facing each other, talking about something that Catra couldn’t quite hear. From what she could see, however, was Bow was gesturing wildly and Glimmer was almost doubled over in laughter. Whatever they were talking about must have been funny. Dare she say, she almost kind of felt left out? Stupid human ears, and why do I even care. They aren’t my friends. As Catra approached, they both gave her questioning looks. “Hey, I’m ready. Are we leaving soon?” She said as she came to a stop next to the duo. “How are you ready?” Bow questioned. “You literally don’t even have any shoes on!” Right…Adora did where shoes. Good thing the Queen didn’t see that. Glimmer eyed her too. “And your hair is still down! You never leave the castle without your hair up.” Whoops. Bow looked her over again. “And the sword! You’re always carrying it around!” In this moment, Catra was failing miserably at being Adora. She had completely forgotten about the sword in her daze that was waking up in Adora’s body. Would it even work for her? Not being able to turn into She-Ra would give her away. But, did she even want to be She-Ra? The thought made her shiver. “Oh yeah… I was just testing you both to see if you’d notice…” Catra gave them a weary smile. What a fucking stupid answer. “Give me one sec and I’ll be right back!” Catra turned around and made her way back to Adora’s room to put on shoes, pull back her hair and grab the sword, leaving Glimmer and Bow in the great hall. “She’s acting really weird today right?” Bow asked as he turned to face Glimmer. “Yeah, totally.” She nodded. “I just thought that she was just being strange after the nightmare she had, but the breakfast incident and now this … it’s definitely out of character for her.” Bow pondered for a moment. “She has been very standoffish too. Maybe we should ask her questions on the way to the ruined city to see if we can help her out? Maybe something is bothering her?” “Good idea, I want to get to the bottom of this. She’s our friend and if she needs help, we should be there for her.” Glimmer said confidently. Catra entered the bedroom again and slipped on a pair of socks and Adora’s ridiculous boots, which were way too hot for this time of year and attempted to pull her hair into a high and tight ponytail with that stupid little poof that she always had. She didn’t even need that poof anymore; it was just a leftover side effect from the bangs incident a few years ago in the Horde. Which was hilarious. The two of them had found a pair of scissors in an abandoned storage closet a few years back. Catra had dared Adora to give herself bangs, which she would only agree to if Catra cut her hair too. Adora left the storage closet with lopsided bangs and Catra with a patchy undercut. Catra smiled to herself as she reminisced the event, even when she remembered the repercussions they faced when Shadow Weaver found out. Continuing with the ponytail, Catra’s eye was drawn to something in particular on Adora’s body. While she still had both hands in her hair, she noticed how the muscles in Adora’s arms moved with every adjustment Catra made to the ponytail. It was fascinating. She managed to put up her hair fairly nicely, surprising even herself, but she couldn’t resist raising up her right arm and curling up her bicep. Am I really flexing right now? Catra couldn’t help it. She didn’t have the muscle mass that Adora had, and to be honest if she was Adora she would be flexing at every opportunity that she had. Which who was she kidding, Adora basically did flex at every opportunity, especially when she was She-Ra. Speaking of which. Where’s that sword? Catra glanced around the room briefly before finding the sword on the right side of the bed that she had woken up in hours ago. How had she not noticed that before? She hesitantly walked over to it and grabbed the hilt. It felt physically lighter than she remembered, but mentally it almost felt like a burden. Catra inspected the sword seeing her reflection, or rather Adora’s reflection, shine back at her. Would this thing even work for her now? I’m really about to try this aren’t I? She sighed and raised the sword above her head. She could recall these next words at any moment, she has heard them at least a dozen times. “For the honor of Grayskull!” … … … Nothing. Catra had expected there to be some kind of blinding light and transformation, but the failure was rather lack luster. Well, this isn’t good. She strapped the sword to her back and left the bedroom with uncertainty written across her face. Reentering the great hall, Catra tried to remain cool, and kept the thought of not being able to turn into She-Ra in the back of her mind. Glimmer noticed her first and a huge smile spread across her face and Bow happily clapped his hands together. Gross. How can they be so enthused this early? “Finally! Come on let’s go!” Glimmer cheered as Catra joined them again. “Adventure!” Bow cheered. Glimmer pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bow… stop.” He frowned slightly. “What it’s cool when Sea Hawk says it!” “You… ARE NOT SEA HAWK!” Glimmer shouted. Ugh, so fucking annoying! How am I supposed to put up with these two for a whole day!? The trio walked out the main entrance, and Catra took in the sights around her. Bright Moon really was a beautiful place when it wasn’t being attacked by the Horde…by her. The runestone illuminated the entire kingdom giving an ethereal lightness to the whole place. If there was any place that Adora should be able to relax it would be Bright Moon, but Adora being Adora, it didn’t surprise Catra that even here, she wouldn’t be able to. They entered the Whispering Woods, still slightly damaged from freezing over during the battle, but steadily growing back. Catra, made a mental note to report this if she ever made it back to the Horde. The refortification of the Whispering Woods would definitely hamper another attack on Bright Moon. She noticed as they were walking that Bow and Glimmer seemed to keep their pace in front of her, so she remained in the back. Weird, she sarcastically imagined that the ‘best friend squad’ would hold hands and skip everywhere they went. The thought made her chuckle slightly to herself. “It shouldn’t take us long to get back to the civilian town, or I guess ruins now.” Bow pulled out his tablet. “My tracker pad says probably a few hours.” Ahhhh, so that where we’re going…and a few hours? Geez did these guys really walk everywhere. No wonder Adora has legs of steel. “Great! Just enough time for some quality bonding! Right, Bow?” Gimmer asked as she nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Sure is Glimmer!” He returned the gesture. Okay, so these two are acting weird now. “Soooooo… Adora… what’s your favorite animal? Glimmer asked as she looked back at Catra who was still trailing slightly behind them. They didn’t really have animals in the Horde, so Catra struggled slightly. She knew about the thing Adora rode around on, but she had no idea what it was called. “Uhhhhhh… my companion?” She answered unsurely. This answer made Bow and Glimmer look at each other. Guess that was the wrong answer? Bow then asked another question. “What would you say is your worst habit?” This was an easy question. Catra knew that Adora couldn’t stay still to save her live. “Not being able to keep still, or I guess not being able to relax in any way according to the people around me.” Catra said with an involuntary grin on her face. Glimmer laughed. Guess she liked that answer? “Okay, biggest pet peeve?” She continued to question her. Maybe, people asking me so many fucking questions!? Obviously Catra couldn’t say that, and there were so many things that Catra did that she knew pissed Adora off, but what was something that would still pertain to her now? “When people take my stuff.” She said as she shrugged her shoulders. Glimmer smiled at her. “Yeah that’s for sure. You get heated if anyone tries to take your sword away from you!” Catra definitely knew all about that… “Favorite food?” Bow asked. That question threw Catra off slightly. “At the Horde? Definitely the grey ration bars. Now…?” Another shared glance between Bow and Glimmer. Mentioning the Horde was a slip up. Catra didn’t really know if Adora had a new favorite food outside of the Horde, so she came up with the best answer she could think of. A very Adora answer she thought. She eyed the two before attempting to correct her answer. “I’m not really sure, everything is sooooooo tasty out here!” That answer came out a little more sarcastic than she intended it to. Glimmer was looking a little skeptical now.  “Okay… tell me what’s your favorite color? Oh, Catra knew the answer to this question in a heartbeat. She smiled to herself. “Well…that’s kind of a trick question. I have two favorite colors, blue and yellow obviously.” What was this anyway? 20 questions? Maybe these two didn’t know as much about Adora as I thought. This all seems very one-sided too. Are they starting to get suspicious of me? What Catra didn’t know was that Glimmer and Bow were doing this on purpose. Asking her questions, that they already knew the answer to, to see if something was up. “Adora… could you give Glimmer and I a moment for a sec? Bow said as the group stopped walking. “Ah, sure? I guess I’ll just go over here?” She said as she thumbed to a general area of the woods. As Catra walked away and leaned against a nearby tree, Bow turned to face Glimmer. “This is incredibly weird right?! Like, she’s getting most of the questions at least half right, but it’s like she’s not herself, like she only knows bits and pieces of her own personality!” Glimmer whisper shouted as she looked over to where Catra was standing. Bow looked at her two as Catra picked at her nails. “Yeah, it’s almost as if she only knows the stuff she knew about herself when she was… still in the Horde… you don’t think?” Glimmer’s eyes widened. “SHE LOST ALL HER MEMORY ABOUT US AND IS ONLY PLAYING ALONG NOW?” “No, Glimmer. Calm down.” Bow said as he placed his hands on her shoulders to ground her. “This is going to sound crazy, but what if Adora, isn’t Adora?” “WHAT!?’ Glimmer shouted a little too loudly. Catra glanced at the pair, but still couldn’t hear their conversation. “Shhhhhhh! Bow shushed her. Glimmer narrowed her eyes before lowering her voice. “What do you mean Adora isn’t Adora?” “I think that Adora’s body is still here, but here consciousness isn’t. I mean, think about it. Why else would she not be able to answer simple questions about herself? She only knows the answers to them as if she knew herself only when she was in the Horde. Almost as if she were a friend of herself and not her.” Bow attempted to explain but he was thinking but Glimmer still looked doubtful. “Bow, that’s insane! How would that even happen?” She asked. “Oh, I don’t know Glimmer! Etherian magic? Being able to turn into an 8ft tall warrior princess? Witchcraft? A curse? Take your pick!” Bow exclaimed as he listed off all the possibilities as to how this could have happened. Glimmer crossed her arms over her chest. “No, need to get snippy Bow!” Bow felt guilty. “Okay, I’m sorry… maybe it has something to do with us leaving Adora in the ruins by herself yesterday? “I knew we shouldn’t have left her alone!” Glimmer said as she perked up slightly. “How are we even supposed to figure out who is in Adora’s body?” Bow pondered this question for a moment before he smiled and brought his right fist down into his left. “Hit ‘em where it hurts?” “Yeah!” Glimmer smiled before becoming confused. “Wait… what?” He laughed slightly at his friend’s sudden change of emotions. “Ask her about the only thing Horde soldiers are uncomfortable with; relationship questions.” A mischievous smile broke across her face. “Brilliant!” As Catra was leaning on some tree, watching Glimmer and Bow as the seemingly argued with each other for the umpteenth time today, she really wondered how she found herself in this situation. What would drive Adora to go this far? Why would she want to switch bodies with her of all people? Her thoughts were interrupted by a flail of Glimmer’s arms, which she assumed was her signal to rejoin the duo. “You guys done asking me questions yet?” Catra asked as she sauntered her way over to the pair. “Not quite, we have one more for you.” Bow said. Catra rolled her eyes. Glimmer raised an eyebrow before speaking up; looking way too smug for Catra’s liking. “Have you ever been in a relationship?” She spoke in a teasing tone. Catra was confused. “A what?” “Come on Adora! We’ve been over this!” Bow said playfully. “A relationship is between two, or more people in some cases, that deeply care for each other. Their love is more that platonic and they are romantically involved.” Catra really didn’t know how to respond to this question, they didn’t really have relationships in the Horde. By the sounds of it, Adora and herself may have been in a relationship. All the gentle brushes against one another in the hallway, the handholding, heated sparring, cuddling… A blush spread across her cheeks as Bow and Glimmer grinned at her. Oh, they’re still waiting for an answer… and I think they definitely think something is up now. And if they were getting suspicious of her, she might as well have some fun. A smug smile graced Catra’s face. “Oh, you mean like me and Glimmer?” “WHAT!” Glimmer shouted. Catra disregarded her tone. “Yeah, aren’t we like a thing?” Glimmer was really getting frustrated at this point. “NO! THAT’S ENOUGH! TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!” She shouted. Catra, suddenly found herself pinned against a tree, with Glimmer staring up at her. She had a firm hold on Catra’s shoulder, her right fist was raised, and it was surrounded by pink energy. Catra could really squirm away from this hold if she wanted to, but honestly, she was finally having fun now. “Take it easy there Sparkles, you might run out of juice again.” She said to egg her on. The stern expression on Glimmer’s face fell at the realizeation, but it quickly turned into something a little harsher. “Sparkles? Wait… CATRA?!?!?!?” “Awww, you finally figured it out.” Catra mocked. Glimmer tightened her hold on Catra’s shoulder and the energy around her fist glowed brighter. “What have you done to Adora!” She asked in a harsh tone. “What have I done?” Catra chuckled and rolled her eyes. “More like what has Adora done to herself and to me!” “Come one guys, settle down.” Bow interjected. “Glimmer please release Ador… Catra and we can try to figure this out together.” Glimmer remained firm. “Not until she gives us answers Bow!” “I don’t think you want to do that.” Catra said calmly. “What are you gonna do? Lick me again?” She scoffed. Catra smirked again. “If you want me to princess. It would probably be more fun as Adora anyway.” With a wink, Catra saw Glimmer’s face flush red. Ha! It’s too easy messing with her. Almost as easy as messing with Adora. “But seriously, it’s not like I’m going to run off. I have nowhere to go and I’m definitely not going back to the Horde looking like this!” Catra exclaimed. Glimmer slowly released her grip from Catra and the energy around her fist slowly dissipated. The two harshly glared at each other before Glimmer spoke up again. “Fine, but now we need to find Adora, the real Adora.” Catra pushed off the tree and smoothed out her shirt. “Look at us, finally able to agree on something.” “Great!” Bow said as he body relaxed from the standoff ending. “Now that we’re all on the same page, where do you think we can find her?” She thought for a second. “Well, you all had this expedition planned since last night, right? If I know Adora, she’ll try anything possible to meet up with you guys because she knew where you were already going to be, which means… Catra was suddenly cut off by Glimmer. “…she’ll be heading towards the ruins too!” She shouted excitedly. Catra let out an irritated grunt and then mumbled “Yeah…that’s exactly what I was going to say.” “That means we have no time to lose! According to my tracker pad we can get there in an hour or so if we jog.” Bow stated as he looked down at the tablet. “Or I can just teleport us there.” Glimmer interrupted. “I know where it is and it’s not that far.” “Nope, no way, nuh uh.” Catra refuse. “Come on! Don’t you want your body back! This is the quickest way to do it.” Glimmer said as she tried to convince her. After internally debating with herself and weighing the pros and cons, Catra made up her mind. “Fine.” She relented. She held out an arm and Glimmer looped her arm around hers to lock their elbows together. The trio was then engulfed in pink magic and Catra remembered how much she had hated this feeling. When the group had rematerialized, they had arrived at the ruins.

The next practical saw 1-A assembled at one of the outdoor training grounds. The staff had been rotating to cover Aizawa’s lessons while he recovered from the USJ attack, and All Might had been chosen to cover their next practical. Still following Aizawa’s lesson plans, of course. Izuku had been tasked with reporting back to his mentor whether or not any changes had been made from his instructions, and after the first time someone decided to go off his carefully structured assignments none of the substitutes were willing to press their luck again. Izuku wasn’t quite sure what Aizawa had done, but it made Hizashi laugh every time it was mentioned, so he assumed it had to have been good. With the Sports Festival only a week away, they were all focusing on getting in as much training as possible. It was different from before though. None of them could deny that. Izuku knew his own reasons for feeling off, and there was no telling what the others had been through when they were scattered through the USJ or blocked by the warp villain. It was with only a little hesitation that he had passed on what he saw to Aizawa. If he had been at school, Aizawa would have noticed in a second what was wrong with his class. It was only fair that someone tell him how they were doing so he could adjust the lessons as needed. “Freeze tag?” The group huddled around All Might as he explained the lesson Aizawa had prepared for them, looking at each other as though they weren’t quite sure they had heard the hero correctly. Aizawa’s lessons were always much more complicated than freeze tag sounded. Simulations and scenarios that pushed them to think through their problems and apply their skills in different ways. School had only started a short time ago, but they knew Aizawa well enough to know that there was more to this activity than it seemed. “Yes, young Ashido!” All Might’s voice seemed to echo in the empty city street. The training ground was very similar to the one they had used in All Might’s first lesson with them with tall building, looping wires, and pipes raised high about the ground. “Freeze tag! Although there will be a few rules, of course!” He winked with a smile, and Izuku choked back his laughter at his classmates confused faces. Aizawa hadn’t filled him in on his lessons ahead of time-that would be cheating even if Izuku happened to be his personal student-but he thought he could see where this was going. “The rules are simple, but make sure to listen! Aizawa-sensei will have all of the footage from this class as well, so don’t forget that he will be watching! Expect some notes on your performance to be emailed to you by the end of the day! There are a few things you will be graded on. We will have three randomly chosen seekers at one time. Seekers will gain points based on the number of people they tag. There will be a time limit for each round, so don’t waste it! If you get tagged, have no fear! This is freeze tag, after all. You will have a chance to try again. Points for the rest of the class will be determined by the number of classmates you unfreeze, so no running away from these fights! Use your quirks as you see fit, but remember we do not want to visit Recovery Girl because of reckless quirk use! Make smart choices.” His instructions were so much better than their first class. It was easy to see that he had taken Aizawa’s and Hizashi’s advice to heart. Izuku and Denki exchanged a quick look, grinning. All Might had seemed nervous about covering their class during their last training session with him, but he seemed to have gotten over it. As for the activity itself, Izuku couldn’t hold back his excitement. This was just the thing the class needed to get in a better headspace before the Sports Festival. Something fun that still required them to strategize and work together. A way to ease them back into using their quirks around and potentially on each other. Making it so that students could only get points for unfreezing their classmates meant that everyone would have to be involved in the action at some point while putting the seekers at a disadvantage. All Might tapped at the tablet in his hand and then held it up for everyone to see the three names in the middle of the screen. “Our first seekers are: Iida, Asui, and Uraraka! You have two minutes to prepare. The buzzer will sound when the round begins! Good luck!” Izuku and Denki wasted no time. Two minutes wasn’t a lot of time, and with Iida’s quirk they needed to put as much distance between themselves and the starting point as possible. While they would still need to be close enough to get points of their own, it wouldn’t do them any good to get caught in the initial wave of tags. Iida was a bad draw for their first round, and Asui and Uraraka were almost as troubling. Asui had reach, and Uraraka had a grin on her face that was entirely too familiar for him to think that she would be easy to avoid. Aizawa would have been disappointed had he actually been there, because Izuku was so focused on figuring out what Uraraka might have been planning to give her such a look that he only noticed that he and Denki were being followed a moment before she spoke. “Hey, guys! You look like you know what you’re doing! Mind if I tag along?” Izuku and Denki exchanged another look without breaking stride. Izuku wasn’t sure that he had ever had a real conversation with Ashido before, and he was fairly certain that Denki hadn’t been that close to her before they became friends either. So why did she suddenly want to team up with them? It could be as she said. Izuku and Denki had immediately reacted when All Might had started their count down. For some reason, Izuku thought there was more to it than that though. Still, there was no reason for them to refuse. Ashido hadn’t been anything but polite to Izuku, and she hadn’t been one of the ones who had looked at him warily when they learned that he was quirkless. That was good enough for him at the moment. “Sure!” Denki said, shooting her a grin over his shoulder. For a second, Izuku couldn’t help but marvel that Denki had understood his thoughts on the situation without him having to say a word, but then he remembered that they were in the middle of an exercise, and their time would be running out soon. “This kind of activity works better with a team, so thanks for the help, Ashido!” Izuku added, wanting to make sure she knew that it wasn’t just Denki who was okay with having her along. She grinned in return, and they lapsed into silence until they turned the corner of a building and slipped inside. By Izuku’s count they still had thirty seconds until the seekers would be released, but they should have moved far enough away to have a moment to get a better plan together. “Ashido, did you see where everyone else went when All Might started the count down?” The three had crouched down near the doorway of the building, out of sight of anyone who happened to run by but with a clear view of the street leading back to All Might. They couldn’t stay long, Izuku knew. Getting trapped in the building was a sure way to end up tagged, and they would have to venture out to earn points of their own, but it would keep them out of the fight for the moment. “Everyone kind of scattered,” Ashido said, tilting her head to peek around the doorframe. “I think Blasty wanted to hang back and fight straight off, but Kirishima was pulling him down the street before I caught up with you.” “Blasty?” Izuku covered his mouth with his hand so that he wouldn’t laugh. Denki didn’t even bother hiding it. Ashido smiled with a sheepish shrug. “Yeah? Bakugou’s still refusing to call us by name, right? He has all those silly nicknames? So, I though he deserved one of his own. At this point, I’m not sure if that’s just a thing he does, or if he really doesn’t know our names. Either way, I’ve probably said it to his face a dozen times now, and he hasn’t blown up on me. I’m taking that as his seal of approval!” She wasn’t wrong to take it that way, Izuku felt sure. He hadn’t spent much time around Katsuki since started school, but he knew that if he really didn’t want Ashido to call him that he would have told her so. Loudly. With his quirk to help get the point across. It was another reminder of how much Katsuki had changed in the recent months, and it made him wonder again what exactly had happened to his old childhood friend while Izuku had been distracted with his training. Something for him to worry about later. “Not everyone went as far as us though!” Ashido said, bringing Izuku back to the conversation. “I saw a few people duck into the buildings closer to All Might. Probably hoping they can unfreeze the first people tagged.” “Even though they’ll probably actually be the first people tagged,” Denki said, leaning into the wall beside him. “Iida’s too fast.” Just as he spoke, there was the sound of an explosion in the distance. Their time was definitely up now. They needed to be moving soon if they wanted to get any points. “Looks like Blasty got his wish,” Ashido said, laughing. “I wonder how mad he’s going to be once he gets tags? I bet it’s going to be Uraraka who does it. He’s been spending a lot of time with her and Kirishima lately.” “I guess we’ll find out if he actually decided to just fight them head on,” Izuku said, running through everything he knew about Iida, Uraraka, and Asui’s skills. “Head on confrontation isn’t going to work. This is set up so that people will have to end up getting tagged, not matter how much space is in the training ground. If we only get points for unfreezing people, then everyone is going to be drawn to the same general area. I think our best bet is to get in and get out. Find someone who has been frozen, tag them, and then get out of the main conflict as quickly as we can. The seekers don’t get points for keeping people frozen, so there’s really no incentive for them to keep watch of them once they’ve been tagged. As long as we can get in and out without getting noticed, we should be fine. If they’re smart, Iida, Uraraka, and Asui will work together to corner people to tag, which should leave everyone else fairly open. We make sure to move together, and if we get split up we meet back outside the main fighting. Sound good?” “Wow, Midoriya! You really put a lot of thought into this!” Ashido said. Izuku thought is said a lot about how far he had come that only looked for a double meaning in her words for a second before realizing that she was completely genuine. Compliments from his friends or Aizawa and Hizashi were one thing, but it was still odd for other people to take note of his skills. He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, refusing to look at her or Denki. “It’s really nothing.” “Don’t sell yourself short, Izuku!” Denki said, and Izuku noticed Ashido’s eyes widen slightly at the use of his name. “That’s a great plan! If we stick together, I’m sure we can rack up a ton of points.” Izuku grinned at the two of them, and reached for one of the pouches at his belt. “One more thing…” They headed back towards the base without another word, sticking to the sides of the buildings as they hurried down the side walk. It wasn’t just the sounds of explosions they could hear as they moved closer, and Izuku wasn’t surprised when they turned the final corner to see that their class had descended into chaos. For a moment, Izuku’s thoughts shifted to the last time he had seen his class in such disarray, and there was a tightness in his chest as he stared at the scene. Denki and Ashido stopped on the sidewalk a few steps ahead of him and looked back at him, their confusion clear. “Izuku?” “Midoriya, are you okay?” Shaking away the images from that day, Izuku hurried to catch up with them. “Sorry, guys. Memories.” Denki frowned, but didn’t press him, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze. Ashido shuddered. “I get that. As if the nightmares aren’t bad enough. Do you want a minute?” Izuku could tell she meant it. They had agreed to work together, and their grade for the practical was dependent on them getting out there, but if Izuku said that he needed a second to pull himself together then Ashido wasn’t going to complain. It was such a small thing. Kindness from someone who understood what he was going through. But for someone who had only recently started receiving that kindness from people his own age, the gesture meant more to Izuku than he cared to put to words. “I’m good! Let’s go get some points!” He hesitated only a second before removing his practice rods from where they were secured to his belt. They didn’t feel the same in his hand as his normal ones, but that was the point. It was one step closer to getting back on track, and it was a step that he could make without pushing his comfort zone too far. Aizawa would kill him if he thought that Izuku was trying to rush through his recovery in time for the Sports Festival, and Izuku didn’t want to let him down. He knew it would only hurt him worse in the long run. Besides, as Aizawa had told him many times since their initial conversation about his mental block, eskrima wasn’t the only trick he had up his sleeve. It seemed that Izuku’s analysis had been correct. Most of the class had gathered in the open area of the base once the round truly began, and while it was clear that some of his classmates had the same idea of getting in and getting out again, the seekers were too good of a match up. From what Izuku could see, half of their class was already frozen with Asui and Uraraka on both sides of the streets waiting to pick off anyone who tried to get close enough to unfreeze them. Ashido let out a quiet giggle as they approached. It seemed that she had gotten her wish after all. Katsuki stood to the right of Uraraka fuming, his arms crossed. If Izuku didn’t know better, he almost would have said he was pouting. Uraraka kept sending glances his way, trying to cover her own laughter with her hand. It wasn’t working though, and Izuku could hear the popping of Katsuki’s explosions grow louder the longer Uraraka struggled to contain her glee. “This is going to be harder than I thought,” Denki said. Hagakure seemed to be having the most luck breaking into the crowded mess. Izuku could only follow her trail by the people who suddenly broke away from the crowd. Sero had used his tape to pull himself out of reach a second before Iida grabbed him again, slapping Ojiro as he went passed. Ojiro managed to block Iida’s next attempt to tag his with his tail and tagged Sato. It was hard to keep track of with everyone shifting, but then Todoroki was suddenly moving again, sending a wall of ice that cut off Asui from the rest of the group, and then Katsuki was letting off an explosion that almost knocked Uraraka to the ground. Their training together seemed to have paid off though, because Uraraka hardly seemed phase, lunging to freeze him again. “It’s now or never!” Ashido said brightly, starting towards the chaos. Izuku and Denki had no choice but to follow. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect as they slipped into the fray. Iida had managed to tag Ojiro again, but it was only a second before Tokoyami was there to unfreeze him. Iida was facing off against both of them, as they managed to keep him at an arm’s length through Ojiro and Dark Shadow’s blocking. Asui was trying to make it around Todoroki’s wall, and Uraraka was still fighting Katsuki, both of them grinning. Izuku wasn’t quite sure how that friendship had started, but he would have to get the story from Uraraka later. As he watched, Kirishima joined Bakugou’s side. They fell into a rhythm almost instantly, but Uraraka was still holding her own. The trio headed to the center of the crowd, unfreezing people as they went. Izuku didn’t both to keep track, as he tried to watch all three of the seekers at once. Asui made it around the wall, immediately tagging Aoyama and Kouda who seemed to be working together. Iida pushed passed Dark Shadow, diving underneath him to tag Ojiro again. Without Ojiro’s assistance, it was only another moment before Iida managed to distract Tokoyami long enough to tag him as well. Kirishima and Katsuki were still going strong against Uraraka, which left only the two seekers to deal with. “We can’t get out!” Denki said, backing up until he could feel Ashido and Izuku beside him. Even with Uraraka busy, Todoroki’s ice had cut off a large part of their escape route. Going by Katsuki was out unless they wanted to risk getting caught up in that fight, and Iida turned from Tokoyami and Ojiro to lock eyes with Izuku through the crowd. “Too late. Iida’s spotted us. Remember the plan?” They both nodded, and Izuku’s grip on his practice rods tightened. They couldn’t show their hand too early. The timing had to be perfect. The space between them opened up as Iida approached, and Ashido took the opportunity to launch acid into Iida’s path. It didn’t make him choose a different target, but it did force him to slow down, edging around the path that Ashido was creating. Iida veered right away from Asui and the wall, and that was when Denki struck. His control had gotten so much better since working with Aizawa and All Might. Iida almost tripped avoiding the blast, another throw from Ashido sending him stumbling back towards the left where Asui waited. Izuku ran to meet him, rods raised to knock his hands aside. Iida feinted left, but Izuku was already moving, ducking under his swing to come up behind him and throwing a small blue ball at his feet before Iida could recover, refusing to think about the last time he had used one. The ball exploded, covering Iida’s feet in the sticky material that would keep him from taking another step. He only had a moment to appreciate the stunned look on Iida’s face before he yelled out, “Asui! Uraraka! Midoriya’s got-” It didn’t matter though. Ashido had moved the moment that Iida was secure, tossing the ball that Izuku had given her towards Asui with a cry of “Catch!” Asui raised her hands instinctively, catching the movement a moment too late. Blue covered her hands the moment the ball made contact, and Asui cheered. The last ball, given to Denki, exploded at Uraraka’s feet as she jumped out of the way of Kirishima and Katsuki’s joint attack. After that, it was only a matter of unfreezing the people who had been tagged before the buzzer sounded ending the round. “That’s all for round one! Take a break, everyone, and we’ll draw names for round two! Midoriya, could you please release your classmates?” “Of course, All Might!” Izuku said, his face going red. He reached into his pocket again, passing a vial of the solvent to Denki and Ashido, while he leaned down to pour his own vial on Iida’s shoes. “Don’t worry, Iida-kun. This won’t stain your shoes. It will just break the compound down, so you don’t have to wait for it to break down naturally.” “As expected, Midoriya,” Iida said. “A brilliant plan, with a simple solution!” “Thanks?” Izuku responded, not quite able to keep the confusion from his voice. Yes, Iida had apologized to him about their first training exercise, but that was a long way from what he was saying now. “Ah,” Iida said, looking at him as Izuku straightened up. “About what I said before. I have to apologize to you once again, Midoriya-kun. What you did at the USJ…The situation might have been far worse if it hadn’t been for your quick thinking and action. You were a true hero that day, and I will be looking forward to seeing what you can do in the future.” The words were punctuated by a sharp nod, and then Iida was off, heading towards Asui before Izuku could fully process what he had said. “What was that about?” Denki asked, coming back to his side, Ashido following a moment after him. “Another apology. I think?” “Iida’s a tough one to read, even though he seems so straight forward,” Ashido said, shaking her head. “But look at us! If we don’t have the most points after that round, I’ll be surprised! It worked just like you said, Midoriya!” She grinned at them again, and he could feel Denki watching him for his reaction. “Only because you and Denki timed it perfectly! We couldn’t have done it without you.” If possible, her grin grew wider, and Izuku couldn’t help smiling in return. “Hey, Ashido,” Denki said, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She blinked, surprised, her eyes drifting to his arm and then back at Izuku, but she didn’t step away from him. “Yeah, Kaminari?” “How do you feel about coffee ice cream?” Once again, Denki had somehow managed to read Izuku’s mind, and Izuku didn’t have a problem with it one bit.

Steve checks his watch again, the third time in the last few minutes. It’s 7.34pm. He’s late. It was an obsession, an addiction really, and it had only started three weeks ago. Three weeks ago he had almost walked into Sam when he moved to get a glass. Sam had said nothing and just motioned towards the door, where two people were slowly walking in, completely absorbed in their conversation. Steve knew Sam only had eyes for the redhead, her hair that hung over her shoulders, her black ripped jeans and her London Calling the Clash t-shirt, as she walked in, her ankle boots caked in mud and her blue eyes outlined with thick black eyeliner, Steve couldn’t deny that she was gorgeous. But Steve only had eyes for the brunette standing beside her, the brunette in undeniably tight black jeans that made Steve’s mind wander, and a dark blue knitted jumper that made the blue of his eyes stand out. His dark hair was ruffled, almost like he had just rolled out of bed, but that sort of thinking was not helping Steve as he was supposed to be making a drink. His name was Bucky and hers was Natasha, and Steve had never spoken to either of them. Sure, he had watched from a far, half focused on working and half simply admiring Bucky from where he stood. Sometimes Bucky sat by himself; furiously scribbling into the leather notebook that he constantly had with him. Sometimes he simply stared out into the mall, as his right hand slowly swirled the spoon around his cup of coffee. Sometimes Bucky sat with Natasha, grinning and laughing and chatting, and making Steve want to both rip out his intestines at the sight of the two of them together and also die of happiness every time he saw a smile touch Bucky’s lips. There was nothing he knew about Bucky, not really, he never really ordered the same thing; sometimes it was tea, sometimes it was coffee, sometimes something sweet, sometimes something savoury. But then again, he had only been in a few times now, but Steve was already looking forward to him coming in, he partially knew Bucky’s schedule, and he knew today was the day that Bucky came without Natasha, well for the first twenty minutes at least. Steve physically aches to see Bucky smile at him the same way he smiles at Natasha, or to make Bucky’s lips curl or have him wrap his arm around him and plant a kiss of his forehead before he leaves. Part of him hates seeing Natasha and Bucky together, for one reason and one reason alone, because he wants it to be him not Natasha. Even if Sam manages a minor miracle, somehow achieving the impossible and getting Natasha to date him like he so desperately wants, Bucky could never like Steve, and Steve knows that. Looking over at the door again, Steve sighs before looking back down at his sketchbook. Despite how hard he tries, he simply can’t get Bucky out of his head, and ever since he learned his name, courtesy of Sam who overheard the two of them speaking only yesterday, his obsession had only increased. Steve felt that name was perfect for him, and last night in the shower he had slowly sounded out the name, glad that Sam was out and that the water would cover his voice as he repeated the name aloud, wondering what his name would sound like rolling off Bucky’s tongue. Trying to push Bucky out of his head for few seconds at least, he focuses on his sketchbook, continuing to work on the second floor of the apartment building he had seen this morning on his detour from college to work, he was running a little late, and he was sporting a bleeding nose. It wasn’t his fault really, that guy shouldn’t have been such a creep, that woman needed his help and despite the almost broken nose that Sam clicked into place only about two hours ago, that creep learnt his lesson so it was definitely worth the pain. Steve often found himself in those sort of situations, even before when he was skinny and small and he was beaten the shit out of, the only difference was now he could actually win and he usually did, but sometimes when something caught him off guard, like today, he still managed to get himself injured.  A glass shatters, drawing Steve’s attention forcing him to glance up from his sketch book before he sighs. He knows that Sam is stressed and tired, and as he stares blankly down at the glass in shards around his legs, with water splashed onto his jeans, Steve waves him off, silently telling him to dry his pants. Dropping his pencil and shutting his sketch book before grabbing a tea towel, Steve squats down, hovering over the glass, as he inspects the shards more closely. This is one of the things he hates about working at Shield, at least in a clothing store he wouldn’t have to deal with this, although from the stories Sam still tells he would have to deal with some pretty unsavoury costumers. Carefully avoiding the glass as he uses the tea towel to soak up the water off the floor, Steve wonders where Bucky works, and what is taking him so long. Lost in thought, Steve reaches for the dust shovel. Throwing the soaking tea towel in the basket, he sweeps up the shards of glass, wondering what it is about Bucky that took him less than an hour to adore him. Maybe it was his bright blue eyes that Steve couldn’t fail to notice the second he walked in, or the smile that he wore, the sound of his voice, although admittedly, he had never heard it close up, perhaps it was the expression he wore of quiet contemplation when he sits there alone in silence, or the way he laughs. Maybe it isn’t just one thing, maybe it’s everything. Steve just doesn’t know but he does know without a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn’t work, even now, now he’s taller and stronger and broader, a guy like Bucky wouldn’t go for a guy like him.  Steve sighs, the glass and water is gone, but he still has a few hours of work left before he has to go back to his apartment and study. Placing his palm on the ground without looking, a sharp shot of pain makes him wince as he pushes himself to a standing position. “Fucking brilliant.” Steve sighs as he notices the shard of glass sticking into his palm. Pulling it out, he reaches for a tissue and holds it to his palm. “What di-” Sam starts as he stops in front of Steve, his pants now dry. Steve tries to wave him off again, like he did before but Sam isn’t having a bar of it. Taking a step towards Steve, he wets another tea towel and presses it against Steve’s hand before he lifts up, checking for glass. “I’m f-” Steve starts, but Sam gives him a look and he immediately shuts up. They can hear voices behind him, its dinner time, so of course it’s getting busy but luckily today neither of them are serving customers. Steve didn’t exactly hate his job, sometimes he enjoys it, and he did prefer it to the other sorts of jobs he could have encountered, at least this one was in the warmth, inside and didn’t contain anything overly disgusting or exhausting. And anyway Shield is close to where he shares an apartment with Sam, and it was close to the university, and it’s not bad work, plus it means he can look at Bucky, but that was a relatively new perk. The hours were flexible and he wasn’t paid awesomely, but there was a fair bit of down time so it meant he could draw. “You’re lucky it’s not deep.” Is all Sam says as he puts on a band-aid. Opening his mouth to say something more, something catches his eye, and from the small smile on his lips as Sam looks down at Steve, he knows who it is. “This oughta cheer you up.” Sam adds with a grin. “It’s not- I don’t-” Steve starts, his eyes still on his palm as he presses down on it lightly with his thumb, not able to look at Sam and definitely not able to turn around and look at who he knows just walked it. “Really Rogers? Don’t even try, it’s just pathetic listening to you-” Sam interrupts, grinning madly down at Steve as he speaks. For the last few months he had been trying to get Steve to go on dates with him, but Steve had refused, and when he finally went out it was obvious that he would rather be at home. It wasn’t until the third time Bucky came in that Sam had realised why Steve had no interest double dating with Sam or with any of the girls Sam had pointed out, Steve wasn’t into those girls, no, not at all, and three weeks later, Steve was seriously crushing on Bucky. “Wow.” Steve almost moans, as he lets out a puff of breath. Bucky has some stubble, some completely and totally perfect stubble which Steve cannot help but admire, the smile on his lips as he watches Bucky is not helping Steve’s failing attempts to convince Sam that he is not at all in love with him. Sam opens his mouth but before he can get a single word Steve mutters, “Shut up.” Bucky also happens to be wearing a long sleeved navy blue shirt which is a tighter than any of the other shirts he has worn in the past three weeks, which is not helping Steve’s expression at all. The black skinny jeans and the book he holds in his right hand, are both additions that are making Steve’s smile grow, as he feels himself melt. “He’s cute, you sho- Shutting up.” Sam stops as Steve shoots him a look and Bucky approaches the two of them, almost within earshot. “For now.” Sam adds, grinning at Steve before he disappears into the kitchen. As the door swings shut behind him, Steve remains still, his eyes now on his hand, as he tries to regulate his breathing, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. Returning back to his sketch book, Steve lowers himself onto the stool and waits for something to do. His back to Bucky, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, he knows that Bucky is sitting down now, he must be, and he knows that he will need to return to working, and as he takes another breath in, Steve slowly stands up and heads into the kitchen. ... “Oh yes.” Sam breathes, almost twenty minutes later. Steve is hard at work, he hasn’t forgotten about Bucky, but he is trying to be more focussed on working than on Bucky, and now that Natasha is here, it will be even harder to not think about Bucky. When Bucky sits alone, he is silent, but when he sits with Natasha, Steve can hear him laughing and all he wants to do is to see the smile that accompanies it as he aches to be near Bucky. It takes another five minutes before Steve is out of the kitchen, sitting back on his stool his pencil in hand as he does a quick sketch of Bucky in the bottom right corner of his page. This isn’t the first time he’s drawn Bucky, but slowly his drawings are getting bigger, mixing up different drawing techniques as he does so, he knows that by this time next week he will have a whole page dedicated to Bucky, perhaps more. “They aren’t dating.” Sam reasons, partly for Steve’s sake but partly for his own. Steve raises an eyebrow and Sam sighs. Natasha has her hand resting on Bucky’s thigh, and she is practically sitting on him as she laughs, leaning against her shoulder, before she whispers something into his ear and the two of the fall into laughter again. “They’re just close.” Sam adds, and Steve sighs louder this time. “Maybe they are just affectionate people, you don’t know.” Sam says quietly, not quite believing his own words. Steve hates it, but he understands it. He knows that even if by some miracle Bucky was interested in men, he wouldn’t like Steve. Steve who had barely even been kissed, who no one had really cared about until he hit puberty and grew taller and broader, Steve who wasn’t able to really date anyone, because he wanted someone who he wouldn’t have been invisible to before he, well became hot. He wanted someone who saw him for him, not someone who saw him for what he looked like now, he wanted to be seen by someone who would have seen him when he was invisible. Steve was fine with barely kissing anyone, on some level at least, he wanted to wait for something more, but now he was beginning to feel like he had waited too long. He was into his twenties and unlike Sam he had never slept with anyone, or done anything more than a quick kiss, but with Bucky, he reckoned that Bucky would have seen him when he was invisible, if only he would see him now, that was the problem. Almost to press the issue, someone walks past their table and Natasha murmurs something and Bucky’s lips twitch for a second before he erupts in laughter and Natasha picks up his coffee and takes a sip as she smiles into the cup. Steve sighs again and turns back to coffee he is making. He lets Bucky’s laughter fill him up as he steams the milk. It hurts to see them like that, Bucky and Natasha sitting so close to one another, clearly enjoying each other’s company. But what hurts more, is that Steve doesn’t care who makes Bucky smile, he just loves to see the grin on his face, and hear the sound of his laughter, no matter who is the instigator of his happiness. ... The next two days are completely uneventful. Steve hauls himself out of bed in the morning, goes for a run for about half an hour and then heads into his morning lectures. Work in the afternoon is dull, and there is no sign of Bucky, no matter how much time Steve spends looking longingly at the door and ignoring Sam’s remarks, Bucky still doesn’t show for two days. Natasha is this afternoon though there, with a few of what looks like must be her friends, and it only hurts Steve more. Natasha doesn’t act the same way with any of them as she acts with Bucky, and although Sam has been attempting not to notice for the past half hour, Steve knows what it means, they must be dating, which means that Bucky is two things, not single and utterly uninterested in him. “Still convinced?” Is all Steve says, and Sam shrugs before going back to work. Sam doesn’t mention the lack of Bucky on their way home, and neither does Steve, but Sam can’t fail to notice the look on Steve’s face as they walk in silence, their music blaring and both headphones in. Sam doesn’t say a word instead he sends a few texts, and avoids Steve’s questioning gaze. ... Still in clothes fresh from work, Steve has only been home for about three minutes before there is a knock on the door and the persuasion begins. It is now obvious who Sam was texting, and considering he was wanting Steve to come out with them, his choice of person probably wasn’t the smartest decision. “Come on Steve you have to come.” Sam insists. Steve sighs. He thought that Sam had stopped trying to persuade him already. For the past two weeks Sam had been buzzing about a party that was happening at someone’s flat that they absolutely had to go to, in all honesty all Steve wants to do was order pizza, collapse on the couch, watch some terrible movie on tv with Sam, maybe sketch a little and then get some much needed sleep. “Yeah Rogers.” Tony adds with a smile. He is leaning against the front door of Sam and Steve’s flat, exuding the air of confidence and cockiness that he always has, without fail. They only just got home about 5 minutes ago and Sam is ready and waiting for Steve who is leaning against the kitchen bench, a half-drunk glass of water in his hand as he shakes his head. “I have an early class tomo-” Steve starts, wishing that they didn’t insist on him having a social life so often. He was fine with staying in, he actually wanted to, but Sam wanted to go out tonight, and he wanted Steve to come. “So only stay for an hour.” Sam suggests. Tony is simply watching the two of them now. Sam has his phone in hand, and is pulling on his shoes, as he stares up at Steve with pleading brown eyes. Sam doesn’t want to force Steve, but he wants Steve to have a good night out. The past two months have been pretty hectic for the two of them either studying or working. Sam needs a night out, and so does Steve, or at least so Sam thinks. “I ju-” Steve says after a pause. He can’t think of a real reason not to go, he doesn’t absolutely despise the idea, he frankly just can’t be bothered, but he knows he isn’t going to be able to hold out any longer, Sam will convince him he knows, it’s just a matter of time. “There will be tonnes of gorgeous wo- no, men there.” Sam corrects himself as he straightens up, both shoes on, ready to go. “I’m not fucking interes-” Steve starts, raising his glass to his lips as he talks. He is starting to bend towards going, he knows he is, but he still isn’t sure. “In anyone except that brunette from h&m” Sam finishes for him with a smile. Steve sighs and takes a sip of water as Tony looks from Steve to Sam wondering. “Oh the one with that great bone struct-” Tony almost shouts out in realisation, a grin on his face as he looks at Steve who almost groans. “Shut the fuck Tony.” Steve cuts across flatly and Tony stops talking but continues to grin at Steve, giving him a small nod, effectively telling Steve he approves of his taste. Steve sighs as he turns to Sam, wondering how much liquor will be there tonight. “You coming then?” Sam asks, ignoring the looks that Tony and Steve are exchanging. Tony is still grinning at Steve who is trying not to roll his eyes as he takes another sip of water. God, Tony is like a horny teenage boy sometimes, Steve thinks. Looking over at Tony, Steve is about to roll his eyes when Tony makes a small gesture that Sam misses, but causes Steve to choke of the water he was attempting to swallow. “Shit. Fine. But only for an hour.” Steve says, looking straight at Sam, completely avoiding Tony who is doubled over at the door laughing at Steve’s choking and failed attempts to clear his throat inconspicuously. Sam is looking from Steve to Tony in confusion before he shrugs and grins at Steve, and shoos him into his room to get change. ... He told them he didn’t want to come. He knew he wasn’t going to enjoy it, and yet here he was, just under an hour in, wearing a pair of jeans and a simple grey t-shirt. All he wants is another scotch, but while he waits he is like a gazelle in the Serengeti, about to be hunted. Part of him preferred being invisible, because then he was basically ignored as he waited by the bar, but at least now he could order a drink, but he did have to put up with woman batting their eyelashes at him, woman who would have ignored him before. He tries not to hold a grudge against them, he truly does, but there is no way in hell he will ever date someone as shallow as most of the people unashamedly eyeing him up. He isn’t bitter... not really. “Hey.” A brunette says, a smile plastered on her face, along with a solid inch of makeup. Her hair is meticulous, it probably took an hour to do, she looks pretty but Steve can read someone like her from a mile off. He had noticed her the minute he arrived, and not in a good way. Unlike some of her ‘friends’ she has been unmistakably glaring at people since Steve arrived, and had ‘accidently’ tipped her drink on a woman who was wearing a similar dress to her. “Hey.” Steve answers flatly. Needless to say this woman does not have a snowballs chance in hell. Five minutes later, Steve is waiting for a fresh scotch, when another woman approaches him, this one looks friendly, but that doesn’t change the fact that Steve has no interest in her, or anyone at this party. “Hey I– oh my god, is that Tony Stark?” The women almost shrieks as she glances over Steve’s shoulder. He winces at the sound of her voice so close to his ear and simply nods without looking over to where Tony Stark is no doubt standing, with his arm slung around someone. “Are you like friends?” She asks, staring intently at Steve who opens his mouth to reply but before he can get a word out she adds, “That is so cool, don’t you-” “Sorry I have to take this.” Steve interrupts, waving his phone at her as she stands frozen in front of him. Her smile falters for a second before she nods her head and her happy expression returns. Steve holds his phone to his ear as he walks towards Tony. “I am going to kill you.” Steve glares as he tucks his phone into his pocket. “What did I ever do to you Rogers?” Tony answers. The strawberry blonde standing in front of Tony gives him a smile before leaving Tony and Steve as she goes to grab another drink. Tony watches her walk away, his eyes on her ass as Steve waits for Tony’s upstairs brain to regain control. “Four people have hit on me in the last twenty minutes. Two wanted to talk to you and one was an utter bitch.” Steve moans as he steals Tony’s glass and lifts it so his lips. “That’s not water.” Tony says quickly, but Steve has already downed half of it. Tony grins as Steve finishes the rest before he adds, “You said four.” “Fourth one went to high school with me.” Steve answers with a sigh. This night was already awful, but at least the booze were free, the apartment was nice and the chairs were comfortable, so it wasn’t too bad, but Steve was still longing for his bed now more than ever. “And?” Tony prompts as he scans the room, wondering where the strawberry blonde went. “Her boyfriend enjoyed shoving me into lockers.” Steve sighs. He hated high school. It was utterly awful, utterly and completely. It was not a portion of his life he would like to revisit, but when part of it is obliviously hitting on you at a party you can’t avoid it. “Well that’s not ba-” Tony starts as Sam walks up beside them, two drinks in his hand. Steve takes the shot and downs it before giving Tony a scathing look, cutting him short. “At her request.” Steve says, a hint of sadness on his face. High school is hell, for almost everyone, and it was particularly dreadful for him. Being different is one thing, being small is another, but willing to stand up for what he believed in was something that ensured he didn’t have an enjoyable high school experience. “Oh.” Tony breathes. Sam is silent beside the two of them, taking a sip of his beer as he surveys the room. Steve knows that he is trying to move on from Nat, he thinks she is gorgeous, which Steve has to agree with, but he doesn’t feel for her the way Steve feels for Bucky, so them dating is not taking the same toll on Sam’s emotions as it is on Steve’s. “Didn’t even recognise me.” Steve sighs as Sam smiles over at a woman across the room, she smiles back and Sam’s smile grows. Looking back at Steve, Sam pats him on the back and gives him a supportive smile. “I’m not into dudes, but that one’s cute, you could be into hi-” Tony says, pointing towards a man, albeit a good looking man, who is leaning against the doorframe, a beer in his hand as he stares down at his phone, in all likelihood texting his girlfriend, or boyfriend. “God Tony, stop talking.” Steve places his hand on Tony’s pushing it down before the man can notice that he is pointing at him. Tony just smiles and Sam takes another sip of his beer as he makes eyes at the brunette across the room, who while talking to woman that Tony was looking for, is smiling back at Sam. She laughs and her head shakes, her brown hair tumbling over her shoulder and Sam finds he no longer cares for Steve and Tony’s conversation. “What he ain’t as perfect as h&m guy?” Tony jokes, smiling at someone across the room before he looks pointedly at Steve, who can’t say to that. “Bucky.” Steve corrects before he bites his tongue. Giving Tony more information about him was not a smart move by any measures. Sam is smiling and Steve shoots him a look, still smiling Sam takes another sip of his beer before his gaze falls on the brunette again, still smiling as she talks to the woman seated in front of her. “Bucky? Bucky Barnes?” Tony says slowly, looking at Steve with a curious expression before he shrugs and waves hello to someone across the room, and smiles at someone else. “Bucky Barnes.” Steve repeats, a smile curling onto his lips as he sounds the words out in his head, in his heart. Beside him, Tony shakes his head and rolls his eyes. It has only being a few weeks but Steve loves everything about Bucky. He is perfect. “This is actually painful to watch. Have you even talked to him?” Tony asks. Behind him Sam shakes his head and Tony smiles. “Well no  bu-” Steve starts, his cheeks reddening, which only makes Tony smile wider. Sam pats him on the shoulder again before slipping past him, over to the other side of the room, where the brunette is sitting, the brunette that has already made him forget about Natasha, the brunette who is gorgeous and all Sam wants to do is talk to her, for now… “Oh Rogers.” Tony grins. Steve says nothing, silently wishing for more alcohol, but knowing with a lecture tomorrow, more alcohol is not the best plan, but it would make this party, this conversation far more bearable. He looks over at Tony who is smiling at someone else, of course he knows everyone, how couldn’t he, when something occurs to him. “How the fuck do you know his name?” Steve asks, looking at Tony curiously. If Tony knows him does that mean Bucky will be, oh, shit. “I know things Rogers when are you going to realise it. Your boy’s good. He’s smart.” Tony says as someone hands him a drink, it barely touches his palm when Steve yanks it out of his grip and takes a long sip, swallowing before Tony finishes talking and hands him back his beer. “Shit.” Steve sighs. If Tony thinks he is smart, if he’s smart by Tony’s standards, means that he really doesn’t have a chance does he? “Not a genius like me but-” Tony starts, smiling as he thinks of how smart he is, and trails off as he stares dreamily straight ahead causing Steve to groan inaudibly before he takes Tony’s drink again and as another sip. “Like too smart for me?” Steve asks as he hands what’s left of Tony’s drink back to him. Tony downs the rest before he looks Steve up and down and gives him a small sympathetic smile. “Seriously Steve, stop. You could totally nab him if-” Tony starts, smiling at someone across the room as he talks, his attention not completely on this conversation, but the amount of attention he still has for this conversation with Steve is particularly perplexing to Steve, this is Tony Stark after all. “Wait why aren’t your being your usual asshole of a self?” Steve interrupts, looking at Tony curiously. Tony and him are friends sure, Steve is as much of a friend as anyone can be with Tony, who is slightly self involved, and can drone on and on about himself at times, and be a down right dick sometimes. Tony is kind sure, but he has never had a conversation with Steve for this long, or being this invested, or even this nice. “Oh Rogers you say the sweetest things to me.” Tony smiles without missing a beat. “How much have you had to drink?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrow as he looks Tony up and down, wondering if maybe he should get him to sit down. But Tony is standing steady and his voice isn’t slurring, he can’t be drunk, but he must be for this amount of attentiveness for a conversation where the subject is not himself. “Enough to be able to talk to you for a few minutes. So a lot.” Tony grins and Steve sighs again. “Anyway where was I, I get it Barnes is crazy bangable hot, I know that you really want to...” Tony adds. Steve is silently beckoning for Sam to come over, for Sam to stop this conversation, to distract Tony, anything. “I beg you to stop talking.” Steve cuts him off, giving him a look that he regrets instantly when the corners of Tony’s mouth curl upwards into a smile. Tony’s mouth opens, no doubt about to say something that Steve does not want to hear come out of Tony’s mouth ever, when Sam reaches them and Steve cannot help but grin, especially when Tony turns and turns a little red. “Hey Ton.” The strawberry blonde for before says, and all Tony can do is look at her for a few moments before he remembers to talk. “Pepper, you look...” Tony starts, smiling at her, as Sam and the brunette smile at one another, their hands almost touching as they stand side by side. Tony stops, as his eyes skim over her again, searching for a word. “Gorgeous.” Steve mutters, quiet enough that no one apart from Tony can hear. “Gorgeous.” Tony finishes with a smile. Pepper smiles at him and takes a step closer. “And that’s my cue to leave. See you guys later.” Steve says before slipping past Sam and the brunette standing beside him. He can tell Sam wants to say something but the brunette holds out her hand, and asks him to dance, and as much as he wants Steve to stay, he isn’t going to miss an opportunity to dance with her. Steve gives him a smile before he pulls the door shut behind him, and Sam smiles back. All the party had done was make Steve pine for Bucky more, and the entire walk home he sounds the name in his head, ‘Bucky Barnes’, wondering what he will learn about him next, and he can’t wait to find out. As he imagines scenario after scenario, Steve is smiling crazily by the time he gets into bed, and drifts off thinking of Bucky. ... With only a slight hangover his lecture isn’t as hellish as one would expect after that many shots, but coming to work and having to put up with a full hour of Sam practically gushing about the brunette that he met at the party the night before is not fun at all. Maria was her name, and she hadn’t kissed Sam but she almost did, and she had given him her number and she was just wonderful in every way under the sun, and Steve is finding it hard to bear Sam’s upbeat energetic self when his headache starts to kick in. What doesn’t help matters is how busy the café is, and the people in the queue speak with loud, whiny, high pitched voices that make Steve start to feel like ripping out their lungs. He sighs for what feels like the fourth time, inwardly of course, in the last three minutes, when the arrogant man in front of him continues to talk in such a condescending tone that Steve is fighting the urge to stab his hand with a fork. “I don’t get why that is s-” The man continues, but Steve is only half listening. Standing behind him, slightly to the side, cowering in terror, about to be reduced to tears is a little girl, she must be about 3 by Steve’s guess, and she is looking from side to side, staring up into the crowd of people, only seeing legs and feet, and she is very obviously lost. Steve can’t concentrate, but he selects the order that the man is asking for, and nods, as he keeps an eye on the little girl, wishing that the queue wasn’t this long. “Someone should control that child.” The man scowls as the little girl cries, a little strangled throat in the back of her throat sounds as she twists her neck, and stares upwards, trying desperately to find someone familiar as tears roll down her cheeks. “Yo-” Steve starts, not able to control himself. The snide look on the man’s face makes Steve want to punch him, but firstly he wants to help the little girl. The little girl that nobody is helping, that nobody is even really looking at for more than a second, before they continue on their conversations or their busy lives, not wanting to be saddled with the responsibility of caring for another human being. “Hey.” Bucky says, his voice cuts through Steve’s thoughts, and he turns his head quickly. He didn’t notice Bucky get up; he didn’t notice him until he heard his voice, cutting him short. Steve sees the top of Bucky’s head, he is bending down, so that he is at the same level as the little girl and Steve finds it hard to breathe, how can this guy be so amazing. “What’s wrong?” He asks, not even sounding like he is talking to a child, his tone is soft and Steve’s heart melts. He may not be able to see him, but he is sure that his blue eyes are shining, and his soft expression is not doubt a source of comfort for the crying child who Steve can see is looking at Bucky, her eyes wet and round, as she clings onto the fringe of her shirt. "I'm lost.' She whimpers, her voice breaking and her grip on her shirt tightening. Steve notices the look of annoyance on the customers face, so he returns to his order, only half listening to what the man is saying, frankly he couldn’t care less. He is wondering how he is managing to even select the items the man is ordering, when his mind is occupied by the conversation he can barely hear. "Well that's never good. I lost my friend too, but I'll tell you what, why don't you hang out with me till you get unlost." Bucky answers. Steve takes the man’s cash and quickly gives him change, as he focusses on breathing in and out. This the first time he has really heard Bucky’s voice, and like everything else he knows about him, he loves it just the same. "Ok." She says, a smile breaking on her face. Steve can’t see anything but the top of Bucky’s head, but he has a clear view of the little girl, as the douchey customer heads over to a table and the man behind him steps up. Steve wishes he could get a better view and that he could breathe properly but knows it’s not likely when he is in such proximity to Bucky. "What's your name?" Bucky asks softly, no doubt one of his smiles, that Steve loves to adore from afar, on his face. Steve is listening to the man’s order, but he doesn’t care that he wants a double shot expresso and a piece of caramel slice. "Emily." She says taking a small step towards him. She is almost smiling now, and Steve’s heart is pounding in his chest, wishing desperately that there wasn’t a massive queue he had to work through. "I'm James, but you can call me Bucky, all my friends do. How old are you Emily, you look proper mature." Bucky answers, Steve can practically hear his smile as he talks. "I'm 3." Emily answers as she holds up three fingers. Steve can see the smile on her lips as she takes another step towards him. "Three wow, that is impressive.” Bucky says, and the girl grins, before her stomach rumbles. Without missing a beat Bucky adds, “I'm starving, you hungry?" Emily nods in reply and Steve can see the top of Bucky’s head move, and he can see his face, his bright blue eyes twinkling as he glances at the glass cabinet before turning back to Steve. It was only about a second, but Steve can hear the pounding of his heart in his chest, even a second of Bucky with that soft look on his face and that smile, Steve is leaning against the bench, wondering whether he will ever be able to see Bucky and not feel this way. "I don't know about you but I can only see the sandwiches from down here, so why don't we look at the cakes." Bucky says. Steve is waiting for the woman to put in her pin, so he glances over to where Bucky is still squatting in front of Emily, his hands reaching out towards her, moving slowly, and that small motion, that consideration, is not helping Steve. Bucky is moving slowly just in case Emily doesn’t want to be picked up, and Steve’s lips curl into a smile as Emily steps towards him, wanting to be held. In a few seconds, Bucky is standing up, Emily resting on his hip as he points at the cakes and Steve can no longer focus on anything but them. "Now what do you usually get?" Bucky asks, and Steve gives the woman her receipt and is glad the next person in the queue is looking undecided, and somewhat perplexingly unaffected by Bucky and Emily, while Steve is losing it. "That." Emily says pointing at the biggest slice of mud cake. Bucky grins and laughs, and the little girl chuckles before pointing at a slice, much smaller and sadly a lot healthier looking. Steve takes the man’s order as he watches Bucky glance at the two items, as Steve decides he is looking to see if she could be allergic to anything in the mud cake, god, Bucky is actually killing him. “That piece is ginormous, you couldn’t possibly eat alone!" Bucky answers. Emily laughs and holds onto Bucky’s arm, she may have only known him for a few minutes but she was comfortable and felt relaxed, with his strong arms holding onto her, and Steve couldn’t blame her one bit, for a moment he wonders what it would feel like, but those sort of thoughts do not help him focus one bit, so he bites down on the inside of his cheek and forces himself to focus. Steve looks up at Bucky, who is pausing for a moment before he grins again, "We'll have to share it then." Emily grins and Steve tries to hide a smile as he places in an order for a toasted sandwich. "Steve when you have a sec, your biggest slice of mud cake and two forks for Princess Emily and me." Bucky says, smiling at Steve, who can feel his heart stop, Bucky’s blue eyes are on him and Steve can’t remember how to breathe. Steve who was basically on autopilot since Bucky had stooped down in front of him, somehow despite all odds, manages to give him a smile and nod his head as he counts the man’s cash out. For a moment, Steve pauses and looks up but Bucky is already walking back to his table with Emily still resting on his hip. A question bubbles to the surface of his mind as Steve hands the man his change, how on earth did Bucky know his name. Sure he had known Bucky’s name for a little over a week now, but he had no idea how Bucky could possibly know his. Turning to grab the man a bottle of coke from the fridge behind him, it dawns on him, of course, his name tag. Somehow he manages to work with an almost clear head for the next seven minutes, until the line is clear, by some miracle he made his way through without getting any orders wrong, and as he hands the woman her number he glances over at Bucky and Emily, their order still fresh in his mind. Steve gives an audible sigh at the sight in front of him. Emily is sitting on Bucky’s knees, a grin on her face and a smile on his. He hadn't thought it was capable to love Bucky anymore, but as he notices the pencil in her hand, as she continues to draw all over a piece of paper that Bucky had no doubt ripped out of the book that he so often sits there with. As Emily giggles and Bucky says something that Steve is too far away to hear, Steve figures that if hearts could melt, his would. Grabbing the cake out of the glass case, he motions to Sam, who understands immediately. With the cake on a plate, Steve makes his way over to Bucky, somehow managing to put one foot in front of the other, while attempting to stop his hand from shaking, with no success. "I'm not really a princess though." Emily says when Steve gets within ear shot, his walking slows hoping to catch as much of their conversation as he can as he makes his way over, hoping not to trip or do anything embarrassing, as Bucky slowly guides a pen across the page. "Neither's my friend Nat, but she's amazing. She would be more like a super spy, or an astronaut or a warrior, like you." He finishes, as an even wider smile splits across Emily's face. Her eyes move from his face to the paper in front of her and she grins again. "I'm rubbish at drawing really, nowhere near as good as you, but you can't be good at everything that wouldn’t be fair." Bucky adds with a grin, and Emily laughs, Steve is having trouble putting on foot in front of the other, and is barely moving as he slowly approaches them. "I'm rubbish at counting." Emily sighs, and Bucky gives her a look before she adds, "But it wouldn’t be fair if I was good at everything.” She may only be three but she learns fast, and Steve cannot help but smile at the two of them. "And anyway warriors don't need really counting, wonder woman never did and she still kicked as- butt." Bucky replies, before his blue eyes glance up at Steve who is two steps from their table now. Steve can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he opens his mouth to say something, anything, perhaps something witty but his mind is blank, utterly and completely blank. Fucking brilliant, he thinks. "The biggest slice of chocolate mud cake the world has even seen." Steve says as he places the plate on the table, before looking at Bucky and his legs sway beneath him as Bucky smiles. Glad he has already placed the plate on the table, Steve’s hand trembles and his heart pounds and his breath hitches and his face blushes. "Thanks Steve." Bucky answers. Steve turns away from him, a smile spreading across his face. It wasn’t that he disliked his name, but no one had ever made his name sound quite that good, he liked the way it sounded coming off Bucky's tongue, and as he struggles to make his way back to behind the counter without fainting or tripping, he tries to ignore what else would sound better coming off Bucky's tongue. Why does he have to be so fucking perfect, Steve moans inwardly as he leans against the counter, trying not to let his eyes stray to Bucky and Emily; but knowing it is only a matter of time, he lets himself succumb and he regrets his decision immediately when he meets Bucky’s blue eyes and he flashes him another smile. Steve’s legs shake and he miraculously manages to smile back. “I found it!” Sam announces ten minutes later as he heads out of the kitchen and towards Steve who hands a woman her receipt. Sam is smiling and his hand is in his other phone, and Steve can just tell from the look on his face that he is debating whether it is too soon to call Maria, and Steve can’t help but smile, it’s good to see Sam so happy. “Found what?” Steve asks, not turning to face him, instead he leans down against the counter, glad that they queue is finally empty, he can finally relax for a few moments. Closing his eyes, he tries to relax as he waits for Sam to answer. “Your name tag you idiot.” Sam answers, pushing Steve’s badge into his hand as Steve opens his eyes and stands up. “Thanks.” Steve smiles gratefully as he pins it to his shirt before his smile falters, if he wasn’t wearing his tag then how did Bucky know his name? Steve shakes his head, he is thinking way too much about this. Sam is staring at his phone again, and Steve smiles, pushing Bucky not out of his mind, but to a corner, so he can focus on Sam. “Wait why are you still here? Your shift ended like five minutes ago.” Sam questions as he looks up at Steve from his phone. He still hasn’t called Maria, or texted her, he can’t think of a single intelligible thing to type, he wants to send something witty but simple, something to show that he has been thinking about her but not to seem desperate. It was all about the balance, which is why, he still hadn’t sent anything. “Oh.” Steve breathes, he can’t help it but his gaze strays, landing on Bucky and Emily who are still laughing and smiling away, making Steve’s heart beat quicken as he tries not to melt at the sheer adorability of the whole thing. He looks back at Sam hoping he hasn’t noticed, but of course Sam has and he smiles at Steve who looks back over at Bucky, only briefly before looking back at Sam. “You want to see the big reunion don’t you? Don’t worry I’ll keep you posted.” Sam says with a smile, knowing full well that is exactly was Steve wants. Steve doesn’t want to leave, but he does have work to do, he has another lecture this evening, and he has to get some work done before hand, and he also needs to have a shower and eat something. Steve doesn’t have time to argue, before Sam is pushing him out of the front door, as he passes him his bag, and his sketchbook, and with one last look at Bucky who seems completely absorbed in Emily who is looking up at him adoringly, Steve heads home. The entire way back, all Steve can think about is the smile on Bucky’s face, the way he was with Emily, the way he was, no is just so fucking perfect. He is smiling to himself as he climbs up the steps, not even pissed off that the elevator isn’t working today, and as Steve locks the front door behind him, his phone beeps. He doesn’t even have to check it to know it will be from Sam, who else can it be.  Unlocking his phone, he goes into his messages and smiles. The cub has been located. Steve drops his sketchbook on the table and drapes his bag over the chair as he yanks open the cupboard and grabs a glass, his eyes fixated on his phone, wanting for Sam to send another text. Lion and lioness are here. His phone lights up as he pours himself a glass of water, and he smiles, wishing he could be there to see this first hand. Granted with big creepy smiles, but they look nice enough. Steve takes another sip as he walks to his bedroom, eyes still on his phone, waiting for Sam’s next text. He can imagine it happening, the arching of Bucky’s brow, the smile on his face, the way his eyes would... his phone beeps, disrupting his line of thought. Tiny human looks pleased. Steve smile broadens, he loves when Sam calls people tiny humans. Daddy looks like he is going to hug Bucky. Of course he does, who doesn’t want to hug Bucky, Steve thinks as he smiles. Grabbing a towel and a clean pair of briefs, Steve looks expectantly at his phone wanting it to light up again. He loves Sam’s recount, but he still wants to see it, he thinks it would have been better if the phone was lighting up with Bucky’s texts, and that thought makes him grin and he falls back onto his bed, grinning up at his ceiling, as he lets the feeling of happiness wrap around him and he just breathes. His phone beeps again, and he holds it up over his head, his arms outstretched as he unlocks his phone. Woomp there is it, a big handshake and a huge smile. Steve wonders whether the smile is two sided, and wonders how the corners of Bucky’s lips curved, but that thought was leading him down a dangerous path, now all he could think about was Bucky’s lips... his phone beeps again and he looks up at it. Oh how cute Emily is hugging your man goodbye. Steve types out a quick reply, He’s not my man. He smiles as he looks up at his phone, waiting for reply. He knows he should get into the shower, that he should be doing something, but he doesn’t care. Lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, with a stupidly huge smile on his face, he doesn’t mind, and all he can think about is Bucky. His phone beeps again and he smiles at the message. Not yet at least. His thumb moves across the keyboard starting to type out another reply when his phone beeps again. Shit I see why you love him, he is freaking perfect. Steve grins, he ponders a reply but only seconds later his phone beeps again. What did I just text? Steve laughs and waits for his phone to beep again. God I’m turning into you, this is frightening. A smile on his lips so large is mouth is starting to hurt, Steve laughs again, as he tries to remember the last time he felt this happy... his phone beeps again and he stops trying to remember. He is pretty hot though and that smile... man oh man Steve is grinning as he types a quick reply, Hands off, he’s mine. He waits for his phone to beep again, and he closes his hands, smiling up at the ceiling, wondering how a man who has only spoken to for the first time today can make him feel like this. But the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, it was perfect. And even though Steve was trying not to dwell on it, Bucky knew his name, he knew his name and he wasn’t wearing his name badge. That had to mean something right? His phone beeps again and his eyes shoot open. Anyway reunion over, the little chick has left the nest, and your boy is all alone. You should come and hug him, or whatever. Steve smiles and quickly replies, Don’t tempt me. Standing up slowly, he grabs his towel and heads to the bathroom, leaving his change of clothes on his bed, he glances down, his phone still in hand, waiting for it to beep again, waiting for an update. Placing his towel on the drying rack, he turns the shower on, as he phone beeps. Told you you wouldn’t miss much. Testing the temperature, Steve kicks the door shut behind him, and locks it out of habit. Nat’s here though, just arrived. Now that is perfection. Steve smiles and types a single word before hitting send, Maria? His phone beeps just as the message sends, and he smiles, glad that Sam will never change. Not that I still like her. He is obviously meaning Nat, and Steve smiles as he adjusts the temperature, waiting for the next text. Maria’s gorgeous too. Steve smiles and his mind floats back to Bucky, who is gorgeous too, those bright blue eyes and his smile, and his dark brown hair that Steve just wants to run his fingers through... his phone beeps pulling him out of his imagination. Maria’s utter perfection, god I should really text her. What should I say?? Steve sighs, why on earth would Sam be asking him for relationship advice of all people. His track record wasn’t poor, it was non-existent. Plus he was completely and utterly in love with a man who had only just talked to, so he was in no position to give advice even he had had any to give, which he did not. Sure he’d seen enough rom coms and other movies to know how these things were supposed to go, but he lacked real life experience, which was ultimately what was needed here, not Hollywood advice that probably had a pretty poor rate of success in reality. I mean I could Steve looks at the message, wondering what Sam is trying to tell him with his four word message as he pulls his shirt over his head.  Shit Furys giving me the evils, should stop texting. Of course, his previous text was cut short. Steve smiles at the phone, as he imagines the look Fury gave Sam, the look that never failed to make Sam turn a little red and stare at his feet. Steve types a quick reply, See ya later. Before he places his phone on the edge of the sink, strips off and jumps into the shower, pulling the shower door shut behind him as he adjusts the temperature quickly, he isn’t preparing for hell after all, it could be a little colder, he wasn’t a huge fan of scorching water, that would no doubt burn is skin off. Smiling as the warm water ran down him, he closes his eyes and thinks of Bucky... ... The next day passes without a single interaction with Bucky. Steve doesn’t even see him, the cafe is so busy while he is working, even if Bucky made it in, he probably would not have noticed, but with Steve checking the door and scanning the tables as often as he could, he was sure Bucky wasn’t in. He had an afternoon lecture, and turned down an invite to another party, this time one of Sam’s friends from his football team was hosting one, and Steve had no interest what so ever in going, so spent his evening sketching while he watched the Dark Knight, before spending a few hours on work from his lectures. A Bucky-less day was not at all what Steve had in mind, and as he lies awake in bed, on the brink of sleep, he wonders if he will see him the next day, wonders if yesterday when he knew his name, was something that Steve was simply making far too big a deal out of, or if it actually meant something. One day without even a glimpse of Bucky, and all could think about was the way that his name sounded rolling of the tip of his tongue. When Sam finally came home, he found Steve asleep in bed, a small smile on his face, as he lay on his stomach, lost in a dream, a dream filled with Bucky. ... Steve wouldn’t mind going out with Tony for lunch, not really, but when he gets the invite the next day, he cannot be bothered accepting the invitation. Except, he can’t not accept the invitation, Tony doesn’t really give him a choice. Obviously not getting the message when Steve doesn’t reply to his text, apart from a short, ‘Can’t today’, Tony is there waiting when Steve gets out of a class, a smile on his face and a bag slung over his shoulder. “Uh-” Steve starts, unsure what to say. He is busy, sort of. But he doesn’t start work for another hour and a half, and while he has another assignment that he is only half way through, it isn’t due for another two days. Usually Sam is the one who ends up going out with Tony, but Sam is working, and Tony’s lecture finished only a few minutes before Steve’s, and Steve knows how Tony hates being alone for too long. “You free for lunch?” Tony asks nonchalantly attempting to not let on how much he actually wants Steve to join him. It isn’t that he loves Steve, but he doesn’t dislike him, and he can be pretty decent company, and after a day like today, Tony is finding that company is what he needs at lunch, spending another hour trapped in his head probably won’t bode well for the early lecture he has tomorrow, that he needs to attend without a throbbing headache. Steve hesitates, he cannot think of a single acceptable reason to turn down the lunch, and as the smile on Tony’s lips lingers for another moment, the cockiness dampened by the hopeful look in his eyes, that makes Tony seem, well, almost human, just as vulnerable as Steve, Steve isn’t sure that he wants to say no anymore. “Come on Rogers, I know you’re burning to find out some more on your boy Barnes.” Tony grins, turning away for Steve as he speaks, knowing full well that Steve will follow, he has known him long enough to know that he won’t not come, and with the limited information Sam had given him on Steve’s relationship with Bucky, or serious lack of, he knows that Steve cannot resist the bait, he needs to know more about him, his curiosity has often gotten the better of him. “Fine, but only for an hour.” Steve sighs, falling into stride with Tony. Part of him wonders if Tony has any information to offer him, but then again Steve will take whatever he can get, he knows basically nothing about Bucky, and despite his various attempts to find out more about him than his name and where he works, he knows nothing. “I’m buying...” Tony starts after a few minutes of silent walking. Steve has a headphone in one ear as he walks beside Tony, whose steps are slightly slower than usual, on account of the sheer amount of books and notepads and random assorted crap in his bag today. “If...” Steve prompts, knowing there is some sort of catch, there always is with Tony, he can’t help himself. From the glint in Tony’s eyes, he knows that there is more than one reason that he picked Steve to have lunch with, when he had at least a dozen other options, all of whom would be far less reluctant than himself, and probably far better company Steve thinks to himself. Tony doesn’t say anything for a few steps, and Steve waits, somewhat patiently for Tony to answer. They reach the cafe, still in silence, and Tony drops his bag into an empty chair, before slumping into the chair beside it. Steve lowers himself onto the seat opposite Tony, and waits. “So Pepper...” Tony starts after a few seconds of Steve staring at him, prompting him to answer. The waitress has spotted them, and gives them a small wave, telling them she will be over in a few minutes. “Pepper Potts? You’re keen on Pepper, shit you do-” Steve starts, before he stops. He notices the look on Tony’s face, a look that looks foreign displayed across Tony’s features, taking a small breath in, Steve stares at Tony for a second, as his brain slots into place, he remembers the party, how could he not have remembered? “You fucking like her? What? Since when?” Steve demands, his voice a little louder than usual but he doesn’t care. The two of them are sitting out the front, being bathed in sun, Steve knows he is going to get a little hot, sitting here in tight black jeans and his leather jacket. The slightly torn grey t-shirt he is wearing underneath is bound to make an appearance before the lunch is over, he won’t survive in his jacket for over an hour under the hot sun. “I don’t l-” Tony starts, sounding somewhat unlike himself, his words don’t have the certain confidence that usually accompanies them, and the smile on Tony’s face isn’t one that Steve has ever seen him wear before. He pauses as the waitress reaches them, handing them both a menu and leaving seconds later with a promise of water and two glasses on the way. “You fucking do, you like her, you gotta crush on her don’t ya?” Steve teases as soon as the waitress is three steps away from them, he is grinning, clearly enjoying how the tables have turned, it isn’t Tony with the upper hand anymore, this time he gets to do the teasing. Tony opens his mouth to say something, but Steve quickly adds, “I have to put up with you being an asshole, you gotta put up with me,” as he continues to grin at Tony. “I don’t want to make you regret this Rogers.” Tony says, his usual grin returning, as the confidence starts to fill his words once again. Steve however no longer cares, he is enjoying this far too much. “Whatcha going do Stark? You go-” Steve smirks, looking like the little shit that he can so easily be. Tony is shaking his head, and Steve’s smile only grows wider. Despite not wanting to go to lunch with Tony, he hasn’t eaten a thing and he is already enjoying it, teasing Tony is not something that he has had many opportunities for, but Tony has had plenty to tease Steve, so Steve is simply returning the favour. “One word.” Tony says quietly, and Steve’s smile falters, the smirk itching at the corners of Tony’s mouth, is one that is far too familiar. “Bucky.” Tony smiles as Steve tries his best not to groan.  He looks down at his menu for a second before looking back up at Tony. “And we’re done with the teasing.” Steve says sweetly, smiling over at Tony who gives a smile in reply. Shockingly, at least in Steve’s mind, the next thirty minutes is enjoyable. They spend a while making pleasant conversation, which Steve wasn’t entirely sure Tony Stark would be able to make, with him at least, and then they spent another ten minutes talking about Pepper. An entire ten minute conversation on Pepper, that Steve had to bite his tongue several times to stop himself from teasing Tony. Just as Steve predicted, his leather jacket was sitting on the back of his chair, the sun warming him just a little too much. As they lapsed into silence for a few minutes, Steve waits patiently, not wanting to seem too desperate, not wanting to bring it up, but knowing that in a matter a minutes he will. The waitress takes their plates from the table, and Tony shuffles back into his seat, his eyes fixed on Steve as the waitress walks away. “Any updates on Wilson’s love life?” Tony asks, not saying what Steve was expecting him to, he had waited, somewhat patiently, for a little information, and none had been presented. Remaining silent, Steve gives a small shrug, his eyes resting on Tony as he waits. “Geez Rogers, quit looking at me like that, I’ll tell you about Barnes, no need to glare.” Tony smiles, seemingly enjoying the scowl lingering at the corners of Steve’s mouth, he knows that Tony is going to tease him, it is Tony after all, but after resisting the urge to tease him, he thinks that Tony could at least return the favour. “Bucky Barnes.” Tony says slowly. “Bucky, Barnes.” He repeats, sounding the words out as he leans back into his chair. Steve glances around them, checking that Bucky isn’t here, not that he would be, but still, Steve checks all the same, he doesn’t want him to overhear him, or possibly worse, overhear Tony. “Tony.” Steve warns, settling into his chair as his gaze remains fixed on Tony, waiting for him to give him something, anything to go on, he needs details, he doesn’t care that he feels like a bit of a stalker, he is only lightly stalking, and he more curious than creepy, he just wants to know something, he needs to know something about Bucky, he hasn’t seen him in two days now, he needs something. “Eager are we, you really like him don’t ya?” Tony teases, causing Steve to sigh and take a sip of water while he tries not to sigh. Truth is he does really like Bucky. Truth is he may even love Bucky. Which is ridiculous, he barely knows anything about him. But that doesn’t matter, he is gorgeous, and not just to look at, he has a kind face, a hot kind face sure, but a kind face all the same. “I didn’t tease about Pepper.” Is all Steve says, as he falls to push the memory of Bucky and Emily out of his mind, that may have been two days ago now, but he still manages to make his insides melt. “Because you’re nice like that, I never promised I wouldn’t tease Rogers, I said information, not niceties.” Tony grins. Steve rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his water while he waits. They sit in silence for a few seconds as Tony checks his phone, he sends out a text and then looks up at Steve, who is watching him, waiting. “What do you want to know about Barnes?” He asks. “Do you know a Natasha?” Steve doesn’t want to ask that question, he doesn’t want to at all. He knows that they are dating, he’s seen them together, it’s completely and utterly obvious, but part of him wants confirmation, because there is a tiny part of him that hopes, foolishly and naively, hopes that perhaps they aren’t dating, which means he has a shot. Tony of course, knows none of this as he scans his own brain, thinking of all of the Natasha’s he knows. “Red hair, blue eyes, looks like she could kill you, absolutely stunning, and is utterly lethal?” Tony asks, settling on the only Natasha that he knows who lives around here. Steve nods, and Tony smiles before he adds, “That’s Natasha Romanoff. Everyone’s either in love with her, or shit scared, sometimes both. Why’d you ask?” “No reason.” Steve says, his voice far quieter than he intended. The look of adoration of Tony’s face at the mere mention of her name does not bode well for Steve, if he thinks she is so amazing, surely Steve doesn’t have a chance in hell with Bucky, who obviously isn’t shit scared of her, so he must be completely in love with her, and if she has any sense, Steve thinks, she will be completely in love with Bucky. The waitress approaches the table again, and Tony pays, while Steve sits in silence. “Barely any free time that boy.” Tony says after a few seconds of silence, with Steve lost in thought and Tony wanting to have captured slightly more of Steve’s attention than he currently has, he knows Steve is thinking about Bucky, and despite pretending not to be at all interested in Steve’s love life, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, it’s good to see Steve happy. “How do you know?” Steve asks, pushing some, but not all, thoughts of Bucky, slightly to the side. He needs to see him smile, he needs, well whatever he can get, and for now information is all he is going to get. “Never comes to parties.” Tony answers, his tone implying that perhaps that is meant to be a bad thing, but in Steve’s eye, that is just another thing that he loves about Bucky. “Maybe he isn’t social like you.” Steve says, a small smile growing on his lips. He toys with the idea for a few seconds, toys with the idea of the two of them snuggled up on the couch watching Netflix, eating pizza and pretending the world outside the apartment doesn’t exist. “That isn’t it.” Tony says, snatching Steve’s dream straight out of his head and crushing it. Steve sighs, and tries to hold onto that image, the image of them on the couch together, but it’s too late, it’s gone. “How do you know?” Steve says, almost demanding. “When are you going to accept that I know everything?” Is all Tony says in reply, and as the waitress returns, Tony gives her cash before resting his eyes on Steve, waiting for Steve to agree with him, waiting for Steve to give up waiting, and prompt him for more. “Then enlighten me.” “He works at h&m...” Tony starts. “I know that already.” Steve sighs. He wants new information, he needs new information. No, he needs Bucky, but Bucky has Natasha, Bucky would never go for him, not as a boyfriend, and certainly not as friend. But Bucky is an addiction, and Steve needs more. “If you shut up and let me finish...” “Fine.” Steve sighs again. This was the Tony he was familiar with, not the one that made pleasant conversation, but the one who could be a total pain in the ass, the one who loved attention, and enjoyed dragging a story on. “Do you want to know? Because if you keep interrupting I wo-” Tony replies, fighting to keep the smile off his face, and failing miserably as he smirks at Steve who gives another exasperated sigh. “Tony.” Steve says softly, a glare touching the corners of his eyes. “He’s doing med, planning on being a surgeon, and is well on his way from what I’ve heard.” Tony says. Steve’s expression falls even further. Surgeon, right, that means potential god complex, that means genius, that means he is way of his league, utterly out of his league. “So he’s like crazy smart? That’s brilliant, just brilliant.” Steve groans. His head falls into his hands as he sighs. Sure Bucky has a girlfriend, well, probably, almost definitely, but now Steve doesn’t even have a small chance, at all. Tony sighs, somewhat loudly, and as Steve remains slumped over on the table looking utterly defeated, Tony sighs again. “Look I don’t want to have to say this, but since Sam isn’t here to get all soppy with you, you gotta hear it from me. Firstly, shut your goddamn mouth.” Tony’s words are weighted, and he is talking far more slowly than usual, and as Steve half listens, Tony tries his best to be kind. “What?” Steve looks up from the table, staring up at Tony, as he raises his eyebrow, wondering what on earth Tony is on about now. “Secondly, you are a catch.” Tony says with a smile, before he adds, “Well sorta.” “Thanks.” Steve says sarcastically. “Look... miss?” Tony starts, before he looks around the faces that surround them, he is waving at a young brunette now, who is not so patiently waiting for her coffee to arrive, and seems somewhat disinterested in her own conversation. Steve groans, this cannot end well, Tony has never done this before, but Steve can imagine. “What the fuck are you doing?” Steve mutters, his voice low as he leans across the table, the woman is standing up from her chair and walking towards them now, her eyes on them, almost assessing. “Shut up Steve.” Tony mutters back before turning to face the brunette who has almost reached their table. “Would you consider my friend hot?” He asks as she stops in front of them, looking down at them expectantly. “Uhh-” She starts, her cheeks going slightly red as she looks from Steve to Tony, then back again, wondering what to say. “Yes or no?” Tony cuts across, he cannot be bothered waiting for her to think it out, he just wants an answer, sometime today would be nice, but he considers saying that might only annoy her. “You don’t have to ans-” Steve starts softly, trying to hide the scowl on his face, the scowl that he wishes to direct straight at Tony, but as the smug look on Tony’s face only grows, Steve instead stares at the woman in front of him. “Yes.” She decides, smiling at Steve before smiling at Tony. “Thanks.” Tony says in reply, waving the woman off. She lingers for a moment, thinking possibly that one of them is going to ask her out, ask for her phone number, or give her one of theirs before she leaves. But as Tony looks around the cafe, and Steve tries not to blush, she realises that none of what she wishes is a possibility, and heads to her seat. “Excuse me, could I just-” Tony starts, as he beckons to a guy about their age, who is wearing a baseball hat, the wrong way around, and worse still, he is actually sitting inside. Steve isn’t picky about a lot of things, but hats inside, especially hats the wrong way around inside, just does something to him, and not something good, he absolutely despises them. The guy seems nice enough though, and not everyone can be perfect, but Steve doesn’t let the hat thing go.  “Is he hot?” Tony asks. “Dude I’m n-” The guy starts, looking scandalized, and almost a touch insulted. Tony fails to conceal a sigh, and Steve is feeling somewhat less sympathetic towards this guy than he did the chick. “I’m not questioning your sexuality, calm down, I just want to know if you think he is good looking.” Tony says in a bored tone. He motions over a Steve, and the guy looks Steve up in down, a little more critically than Steve had been prepared for. “Yeah.” The guy shrugs, rather noncommittally. “Yeah?” Tony repeats, looking up at him, demanding a more concrete answer. Steve is blushing a little bit now, well a little bit more than he was already, and kicks Tony under the table, who ignores him. “I’m not asking if you get a hard on when you see him, just is he-” Steve kicks him harder this time and Tony pauses. “Your friends hot. You’re hot.” He says first to Tony and then he looks at Steve and gives him a small smile before he glances back at Tony, almost asking permission to walk away, he wants to go and sit down. “Thanks.” Tony says, waving him off with a flick of his hand. The man turns and heads away from their table, and Steve is still blushing, but is now somewhat glaring at Tony. “What exactly was that supposed to prove?” Steve almost hisses. This is exactly why he hates having lunch with Tony, or Sam, well any of his friends really, they seem to enjoy taking opportunities to embarrass him in multiple ways, and today was no exception. “Look they both say you’re hot. You seem to have a certain allure I guess, you can be considered smart, and you are nice and shit. Look, Barnes would be lucky to have you.” Tony says, shrugging as he says it. Without Sam here, he needs to be the nice one, he needs to be the one telling Steve that although he is completely insecure, he doesn’t have any reason to doubt himself so much. “Naaaw Ton, you looove me.” Steve coos, grinning at Tony. “I-” Tony starts, his turn now to glare, annoyed by Steve, although to be completely honest, he has been expecting it, there was only so much Steve would put up with before acting like the little shit he can so often be. “You can deny it, but we’re totally besties now.” Steve grins, his fingers curling around his glass as he raises it to his lips, he pauses as he takes a sip, and Tony is now giving him a soft glare. “I’m going to...” Tony starts, looking amused by Steve as he takes a sip of his water. He has known Steve long enough, far too long he sometimes reckons, but long enough to know that Steve is still a sarcastic little shit, no matter how tall and broad he has become. “Make us friendship bracelets?” Steve cuts in, grinning at Tony. “I can see why you get beaten up so much.” Tony sighs, a smile in his eyes. “Love you too Ton.” Steve continues to grin, even though Tony could be an asshole, and he was a little more of Sam’s friend than he was Steve’s friend, Steve still considered Tony to be one of his closest friends. “I take it back, you suck, he will hate you.” “You looove me.” Steve continues, grinning as he ignores Tony’s remark, he is starting to laugh now, and Tony continues to watch him, a tell-tale smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, that is set in mock annoyance, well at least half mock annoyance, maybe half real annoyance. “I am never taking you for lunch again.” Tony says with a shake of his head, wondering why he picked Steve to take to lunch today. But as Steve continues to grin, Tony realises he needed Steve being an annoying little shit today, this was exactly what he needed. “Yes you will, because you love me.” Steve smiles, Tony shrugs and looks down at his phone again, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. Five minutes later they are standing up, Steve’s jacket draped over his arm as he looks at Tony expectantly, waiting for something, waiting... Tony raises his eyebrow as he stuffs his phone into his back pocket and repositions his bag, Steve sighs in response. “There’s something you aren’t telling me. Something about Bucky.” Steve says. It has been obvious for the last ten minutes, obvious that there is something that Tony is not telling him, there is something that Tony knows, something that he won’t tell him, and for the life of him, Steve doesn’t have a single inkling about what that might be. “Yeah there’s a tonne of stuff. Like did you know his favourite colour is blue? Or th-” Tony starts, a smile dancing on his lips, he knows exactly what Steve is talking about, he does, but he was trying not to make it too obvious, it is Steve’s fault that he is so perceptive about things, although he can be so oblivious about others. “Tony.” Steve warns. He needs to get to work, but he can’t go, not without knowing. “You know those protests you lark on about at least twice a-” Tony starts, his gaze settling on something to the right of Steve, Steve was right, there was something that Tony didn’t tell him, wouldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him. “They ar-” Steve sighs. “Barnes’ does them too.” Tony finishes, cutting across Steve as he gaze flicks back to Steve and he gives him a small smile as Steve’s eyes light up. “He, really? Wait, that isn’t it!” Steve grins before he stops, his eyes brush over Tony’s expression and it’s clear that wasn’t what Tony was keeping from him, that wasn’t it at all. “Look I’m not a total asshole, everyone has secrets that only they are allowed to tell.” And with that Tony turned, walking down the street away from Steve who was left standing, staring after him, not really focused on Tony who got smaller and smaller, but what could possibly be something that Tony had refused to tell him, something that was completely Bucky’s business. Tony told everyone everything, he didn’t care, so what was this, something that even Tony refused to share without Bucky knowing.  

“We are not going trick or treating!” Seokjin says for the fifth time as Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk follow him around the house. “Come on Jin hyung, we never ask you for anything!” Taehyung says with an exaggerated pout and Seokjin turns an unimpressed look on him. “You ask me for stuff all the time. You literally asked me to brew a potion for you yesterday,” The older wizard says pointing at Jimin who just shrugs. “That was yesterday, this is today. Come on hyung, don't you think it would be cool to go trick or treating with werewolves, vampires, and a demon?” Jimin asks looking far too hopeful for Seokjin's liking. “Guys, we are too old to go trick or treating. That's for kids,” Seokjin says and he's terrified when Jeongguk's eyes light up and his smile widens. “Then why don't you make us little kids?” Jeongguk asks clinging on to Seokjin's shirt. “What do you mean?” Seokjin asks hoping that Jeongguk isn't talking about what he thinks he's talking about. “I've seen a cloaking spell in the book before and I'm sure you know the spell. You and Jimin can make us look like kids to other people and we can still go trick or treating,” Jeongguk says ignoring Jimin's grumble about him using honorifics. Seokjin is going to break. He's going to give in because he's weak to these idiots and he hates himself for it. “Yoongi, help me out here,” Seokjin pleads to Yoongi who is sitting in Hoseok's lap at the moment while he runs his fingers through Namjoon's hair. “Actually, it does sound kind of fun, we don't ever get to go out in our true forms and what's better than free candy?” Yoongi asks with a shrug and Seokjin glares at him. “Traitor,” Seokjin says before turning back to their three maknaes. They are all staring up at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes and he hates how soft he is for these idiots. “Ugh, fine. There's no point fighting a rising tide. But, we're doing this my way, ok?” Seokjin says with a calm smile. Too calm of a smile actually. Seokjin has been brewing the potions for about an hour now and its finally starting to sink in that this maybe wasn't a good plan after all. “Did you see the way his eyes sparkled? His eyes only sparkle like that when he's about to turn me into a woodland creature or something,” Taehyung whispers conspiratorially to Hoseok who just rolls his eyes. “You asked for this so now you're going to get it,” Hoseok says with a shrug. When Seokjin finally emerges from the basement with the finished potion, Jeongguk notices that there are only three vials full of it. He looks at him confused but Seokjin just continues to smile. “So, since you three wanted to go trick or treating so bad, this potion is only for you,” Seokjin says before calling for Jimin and Namjoon to come into the living room. When everyone makes it into the room, he hands the maknaes their vials. “Well, drink up, we don't have a lot of time to waste,” Seokjin says nodding at the vials in their hands. Jimin, Jeongguk, and Taehyung share a nervous look before downing the awful tasting contents in the vials. Nothing happens for a solid minute but, with a cloud of pink sparkly dust, the three start to change. They start to shrink? “Oh. My. God. They're so adorable!” Namjoon says rushing over to pick Taehyung up and spin him around in the air. Since when did Namjoon get so tall anyway? Taehyung thinks as Namjoon spins him. “What happened?” Jeongguk asks and his voice sounds so small. So childish. Hoseok and Yoongi crowd him and Taehyung and, as soon as they look at each other they scream. “You turned us into kids?” Jimin screams kicking his tiny legs out to try to get out of Hoseok's arms. “You said you wanted to go trick or treating and now you can. I'm giving you guys exactly what you wanted,” Seokjin says trying to stifle a laugh at the three little angry faces staring up at him. “Well, what costumes are we gonna wear?” Jeongguk asks blinking wide eyes up at Yoongi who literally coos at him. “I don't know, but I do know that you guys are just adorable!” Namjoon says nuzzling his face with Taehyung's. Taehyung giggles as Namjoon tickles his chubby stomach. “Well, after you three put it in my head I actually went out and picked out a few costumes for you to wear,” Seokjin says summoning the little outfits to his side. The outfits are adorable, of course, and they're all dressed as a tinier version of themselves basically. Jeongguk is dressed as a little devil, Taehyung is dressed as a tiny werewolf, and Jimin is dressed as Harry Potter. Hoseok and Namjoon squeal as soon as the three youngest come out dressed and even Yoongi sends them a wide smile. After they all get ready and once everyone stops cooing at how cute at the smaller boys look in their costumes, they decide to drive around see who is handing out candy. Namjoon is adamant about having one of the maknaes in his arms at all times and they don't protest when he smothers them with kisses. (“How are you guys not freaking out right now? They're adorable and I love them,” Namjoon says hugging Jimin tightly and covering his face in kisses.) They visit a few dozen houses and, by the time they're heading back home, the younger boys' bags are full of candy and even the older four have some candy of their own. Jimin and Taehyung are passed out in the car and Jeongguk looks seconds away from falling asleep as they pull into their driveway. “This was the best Halloween ever,” Jeongguk says clinging on to Namjoon as he's carried into the house. After the three youngest are put to bed the older four collapse in the couch in the living room. “This was a sweet thing to do for them Seokjin hyung, I'm proud of you,” Yoongi says kissing Seokjin softly and Seokjin nods. “Yeah well, I'm weak for all of my idiots,” Seokjin says earning a smack from Hoseok and all is well. All is well until they wake up the next morning to find that Jimin Jeongguk and Taehyung are still children. “Uh, Jin hyung, what happened?” Namjoon asks confused and Seokjin just smirks. “Since the little brats forced me to make them children, they get to stay like that for a while,” Seokjin explains ignoring the children's whines. “And how long is a while?” Hoseok asks to which Seokjin just shrugs and leaves the room. “Well, that doesn't sound good,” Yoongi says watching Seokjin walk away from them. After a very hectic month in which Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon are forced to care for children while Seokjin sits back and watches, the maknaes finally return to their older selves. “Don't ever ask him to do anything for you again,” Yoongi says falling back into the couch. “Noted,” Jimin says while Seokjin sips his tea and laughs to his evil little heart's content.

L.Felix | X516.06.14 | Envy was already trying to stop the bleeding from Felix's hip when the blonde woke up from the vision. It stung, but the Sin was surprisingly cautious with the amount of pressure. Trying to ignore the stinging pain, Felix did his best to sit up from the other's lap. "W-why would you show me so much?" Felix asked, hissing as the Sin pressed a bit harder on his wound.  "A few of my brothers have already shown you what happened to your friends. It may just be me being a bit jealous that they have the upper hand." Envy replied, seeming much calmer than he usually was. "Don't think this is just me being kind. I have my own reasons for doing this."  "Let me guess, you want me to choose you because you showed me the most?" Felix guessed, hissing again as the Sin gave a purposeful squeeze to his hip.  "I'd hoped it would bring me higher, but that's not entirely why." Envy replied. "You want to save your friends, but what if I told you what you saw would be your fate in the future?"  "What do you mean?"  Envy let out a chuff as if he was unbelieving Felix didn't understand. "What I'm saying is that Hyunjin and I aren't so different. Eventually, he will snap and try to lock you away from other's eyes to avoid the envy he feels whenever you're with others. It'll start out small with little gestures and comments about how bothered he is. Then it'll grow into more desperate actions. Isolation. Complete control over your life." Felix shook his head. "He's not like that. He wouldn't do that." "But how do you know?" Envy questioned, his words sinking into Felix's mind. "What your friends saw in their dreams were manifestations of what they really want. As messed up as it may seem, those feelings they harbor towards you will only become more and more tainted, and you'll be the one who suffers. Maybe you'd be best just letting your friends die?"  Felix instantly shook his head, confident the Sin was wrong. "That's not an option. They're good people, they wouldn't be like that." Envy just shrugged, removing the blood soaked cloth from Felix's hip. "Believe me or not, it's up to you, but don't say I didn't warn you." He's wrong. My friends won't be like that... Thinking back, Felix could only remember the good times. He could only remember the love he felt whenever he was with them. There was never any signs of anything negative between them besides maybe the occasional annoyance. Thinking back to their years in college, Felix realized that maybe all the gestures, touches, and comments he received from the others weren't as platonic as he once thought. Maybe those were advances that Felix never really thought too hard about because there was no way his friends loved him as more than a friend. At least, that's what Felix originally thought. "Come on, I'm taking you out for a few hours." Envy said, standing up from their spot on the ground. "You've spent enough time with the others lately. It's my turn now." "I went on a date with you two days ago." Felix reminded, wrapping his arms around the Sin's neck.  "Which was too long ago, and I had to share you." Envy argued. "Tonight is gonna just be you and me."  Felix wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Envy had yet to really prove himself as delightful company, but as long as Felix wasn't tossed around like some toy in the sky, he'll call it progress.  Holding on tight while the Sin flew them into the sky, Felix felt a tug in the back of his mind. Someone was trying to talk to him again. "Felix?" It was Jisung.  Yeah, I'm here. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe." The other said, sounding relieved. "Hyunjin was a little worried about you. He told me that Envy was upset about...well, you probably already know." You could talk to him? Minho told me only one of you is ever really awake at a time. "Yeah, sometimes we are able to talk with each other briefly, but it's been a while since all of us have been awake." So how are you doing? "As fine as I can be stuck in a dark void, but I have the others, so I'm okay." Jisung replied. "I miss you though, it's not the same without you here." I miss you guys too. I'll get you all back in your bodies soon though. "Just stay safe out there. Greed isn't exactly going to sit back anymore. He's planning something."  Thanks for the warning.  The connection died away, Felix now aware of the eyes trained on him.  "Hearing voices again?" The Sin asked, his tone insinuating he already knew the answer.  "It's not like you're one to talk." Felix replied. "You just like to traumatize me." "And I'll gladly do it again." Envy argued. "So I suggest you stay on my good side tonight." The Sin flew them down to an empty side street, Envy reluctantly letting Felix go but grabbing hold his hand instead.  "This way." Envy said, guiding the other along through the streets. Felix was again confused by where he was exactly, not having been to this side of town. "Where are we going?"  "Some place I think you'll like." Envy replied, leading them around the corner, Felix just letting himself be pulled.   ° ° ° ° ° ° ° H.Jisung | X516.06.14 | The void was becoming more and more...cold. Even staying awake was nearly impossible now, let alone enough to talk with Felix for long.  They were running out of time.  Feeling his head pound, Jisung pressed his palms to his temple. Greed's visions and thoughts invaded his own mind, forcing themselves in.  The Sin had a plan and Jisung was unable to stop it. As much as he wanted to warn Felix, his mind and body were slowly succumbing to sleep.  "Jisung? Are you awake?" Hyunjin's voice asked from the other side of the room.  "Ye...yeah." The other managed to get out. "But I don't know for how much longer."  "Do you think Felix is going to be okay?" Hyunjin asked. "I'm sure he'll..." Jisung let out a yawn. "He'll be okay..." Unable to keep his eyes open, Jisung let them close, Hyunjin's voice lulling him to sleep.    ° ° ° ° ° ° ° L.Felix | X516.06.14 | Dinner with Envy was surprisingly uneventful. The Sin stayed calm and didn't do anything traumatic, but Felix had been on edge the whole time. He still couldn't completely trust Envy, but he was glad the Sin showed him what he did. It helped give him a better understanding about what his friends went through. What they really felt when it came to Felix.  Stepping through the front door, the blonde was unable to even blink before Greed was in front of him, Jisung's warning still lingering in his thoughts.  "I need your opinion on something." Greed said, taking Felix's hand and beginning to drag him towards the stairs.  "Not so fast." Envy stopped, grabbing at Felix's other hand. "He's spending the rest of the night with me."  Greed let out a scoff. "I think he needs some space for a while. He seems a bit tense in your presence, but I don't blame him. Not after all the things you've done to him." The tension in the room seemed to grow tenfold, the two Sins staring each other down.  "Um...why don't I just go help Greed and then I'll come back down?" Felix suggested, not wanting to be in the middle of a fight right now. The two remained quiet, still caught up in their silent battle. If looks could kill, both would probably be dead.  Slipping his hand from Envy, Felix tried to usher Greed up the stairs. When they got to the top, the blonde flinched at the flash that greeted him.  "Welcome home." Gluttony said, his attention on the polaroid printing.  A shudder ran through his body, Felix continuing to rush Greed along. He wanted to get things over with so he could eventually have time to think of a plan to get his friends back.  "Spacing out?" Greed asked as he opened the door to his room. "I hope Envy didn't scare you too bad."  Felix shook his head as they entered the dark room. "He wasn't terrible today." "But you have blood on your shirt." Greed pointed out, slipping his hand off of Felix's as he walked over to his closet. "Let me guess, he showed you what Hyunjin saw, didn't he?" Felix nodded, standing awkwardly near the center of the room.  "Here, you can put this on." Greed said, tossing the other a new shirt. The younger was surprised that it was just a plain T-shirt, since the Sin's room was decorated rather finely with expensive looking decor.  "Thanks. So what did you need my opinion about?"  A grin spread across the Sin's face. "Just wait there for a second." Raising a brow, Felix let his eyes follow the other as he disappeared into the bathroom. A chill hit his body but his attention was forced elsewhere as the walls of the room slowly began to fade away. It started with the roof and quickly moved down the walls until they were completely gone, revealing nothing but darkness.  It was reminiscent of the void Felix would always start in whenever he was shown a vision, but this time there was something else with him. A cracked mirror.  Taking a few steps forward, Felix flinched as another voice called his name. The familiar warm tone making the younger want to cry. He was almost scared to turn around, wondering if he'd even see the person he hoped it'd be.

Cynthia was very good at compartmentalization. Her ability to remove things from her memory and seamlessly retain them whenever necessary was a valuable skill to have. And never was it more valuable than during a particularly awkward encounter. In the days following the incident by the pool, Cynthia was able to carry on as normal. Despite seeing her stepson's best friend in the nude and discovering he had an immensely attractive side to him, she was able to move it to the far back of her mind and not allow it to consume her. Besides, she was busy enough with work and taking care of the house while Frank was gone on business. This was no big deal. What also helped was the fact that she didn't see much of Kevin and his buddies as they went about their summer home from school. This made it easy for her to move on from the events of a few days earlier and go back to being herself. However, with every rule there is always an exception. For Cynthia, that was when she was safely in her own bedroom with the door locked often late at night following her shift. This was when she enjoyed her alone time. At thirty-nine, her sexual libido never felt stronger. She almost always masturbated before bed, especially when sleeping alone. She had a whole range of sex toys to choose from, many of which were not unknown to her husband. In fact, they often used them together. As she fetched her favorite one, a lifelike bright pink dildo about eight inches in length, she couldn't help but notice that Peter's cock was probably bigger. To Cynthia, she never imagined a real world phallus to outstretch her favorite masturbatory companion, but Peter seemed to do just that. Compartmentalization was easily defeated once she made contact and instantly imagined the young man being the one to please her. She pictured what he looked like fully erect, having seen just a preview of that the other day. As a twenty year old, there was no doubt he could probably get hard as a rock and last much longer than an older man. As she playfully thrusted the toy in and out, she happily moaned to herself with her eyes closed, picturing what it would be like to accept such a generously sized unit from Peter. It was normally easy for Cynthia to cum alone. She knew what buttons to press and when. It was even easier when her mind drifted to her recently discovered favorite cock. Her imagination put her and Peter in many different scenarios, often culminating in him spraying her with what she fantasized to be a whole lot of cum. After she reached orgasm, she tossed her toy aside and began to drift off to sleep. She instantly thought about other mundane things; work, finances, Kevin, and sometimes Frank. But Peter never made another appearance in her cluttered mind until the next night when it was time to have fun again. ------------------------------ Cynthia was about to call it a night. It was ten o'clock, the house was empty and she was on her third glass of wine. That was usually a sign it was time to turn in. Besides, she was eagerly anticipating another powerful orgasm alone in her room. That's when she heard the door open and voices coming in from the front of the house. Kevin was home. "Oh hey Cynthia, I didn't think you'd be up," Kevin said as he entered the kitchen. Cynthia was sitting at the countertop reading a book. "Hi, honey," she said. Behind Kevin, Charlie emerged... followed by Peter. "Hi Cynthia," said Charlie with a smile. He stopped calling her "Mrs." a few years back. Peter nodded solemnly. "Where were you guys tonight?" Cynthia asked, very careful to be as normal as possible. This was the first time she saw Peter since the incident. "O'reilly's. Then Charm. Then a bunch of other places," said Charlie. "We had a day." "I'll say. I hope you Ubered," said Cynthia. "Pshh. Of course we did," Kevin said as he tossed the others a beer. He then walked over and refilled Cynthia's wine glass for her. "Thank you, honey. How do you guys even get into these places?" she asked as she took a sip of her Cabernet. "No one cards in this town," Peter said as he took a seat at the kitchen counter. "They're just happy to have the business." "Learn something new everyday I guess." "Can we go outside and smoke a joint?" Kevin asked, although he was clearly at an age where he didn't really need her permission. "Everyone's staying over?" she asked. "Yup." For some reason, Cynthia felt a tingle between her legs when Kevin answered that everyone would be staying. Of course, this had to do with Peter. The idea of him staying in her house with his big penis was slightly thrilling to her. But she kept cool. "Fine by me, guys. That is, only if you share!" --------------------------------- "You ok dude?" Kevin asked, cracking up laughing. Charlie sat back in the lounge chair staring up at the night sky with a permanent grin on his face. The others knew this was his M.O. anytime he smoked. As a usually loud and comedic guy, he would often get very quiet and subdued when he got high. Tonight was no exception. "Huh?" he asked as he snapped out of it. Kevin laughed even harder. "Go to bed dude. It's 1am." Cynthia yawned as she covered her mouth. "Oh, my goodness. I should head to bed too. I didn't realize how late it was. You guys must be good company." "Or just good weed," said Peter. Cynthia smiled and nodded as the two made prolonged eye contact for the first time all night. "Alright," Kevin said as he leaned forward and slapped his thighs. "I'm hittin it." The four of them trudged inside. Kevin went upstairs and Charlie headed for the basement. "You know where everything is down there guys, right?" Cynthia asked. They nodded. "Good night, guys!" she called out as she headed for her room down the hall. Once she got in, she couldn't wait to masturbate. She had been thinking about it all night long. She grabbed her dildo and jumped into bed. Just as she went to turn off the light, she couldn't help but think about the back door. Was it locked? She always worried about that even though she normally remembered to lock it. Reluctantly, she headed for the kitchen to make sure. Once she got there, she was surprised to see she had forgotten to lock it. she thought to herself. That's when she noticed him. Peter was still outside, drinking a beer under the stars. She opened the door. "Everything ok?" she called out. "Hmm? Oh yeah, thanks. I just wasn't ready to sleep just yet." Cynthia paused a moment before grabbing her wine glass from the sink. She poured one for herself and headed out. "Can't let you sit here alone. You mind company?" "Not at all, have a seat. It's so nice out." "I'll say. I love it out here." She turned to Peter. "Hey, how's your leg?" "It feels much better," he said as he placed his hand where the gash was. "Looks nasty but it's not painful." "Oh, good. I'm glad. I fixed that stupid ladder the next day. I feel terrible." "Don't be. If it wasn't for you, I'd probably still be bleeding out in the pool!" Cynthia smiled as she looked at Peter. He was looking up at the sky. She glanced at his crotch and could definitely see a bulge. She thought about how it must be hard to conceal such a big penis most of the time. She wondered how after all these years, she never noticed it herself. The two made small talk for a few minutes. Peter was surprisingly very easy to talk to. He wasn't awkward or shy. He always asked good questions. Cynthia found that charming and endearing. Then things took a turn. "Sorry I got so weird the other day. I'm normally not like that," he said. "Hmm?" He turned to her. "Ya know, when you had to take my clothes off. I was acting like a doofus." "Ohh, don't even worry about it. It's not everyday you're getting completely nude in front of your friend's stepmom!" she said. Peter chuckled. "I think I've seen a few movies that start out like that!" Cynthia snorted as she laughed. "Don't make me laugh when I'm drinking or I'm gonna stain my clothes!" "Sorry," Peter said as he looked back up at the sky. "I'll go back to telling bad jokes." Cynthia joined him by looking up. "Ya know, Peter. Charlie's always going on and on about his latest fling with the ladies, but I never hear about you. Are you seeing anyone these days?" "Ugh," Peter sighed. "I'm in a dry spell." "Oh no! I'm sorry. That happens to everyone though. You know that." Peter turned to her. "I almost hooked up with this girl I was after for a little while." "Yeah?" she asked, turning to him as well. "And?" "She kinda ran out on me. Wasn't my proudest moment." "On you? Lies! You're a sweetheart. What happened?" she asked. Peter set the moment up beautifully. He craved the opportunity to talk about it with Cynthia. He sort of felt she would be open to talking about it as well. "Well, we were kissing and all that. Then things started to get a little more serious," he stared. "Spicy!" Cynthia said as she kicked her legs up on the chair and angled her body towards Peter. "Then what?" Peter laughed. "She, ummm.... She saw it. And pretty much freaked the fuck out and said no way." "No!" Cynthia shouted. "You're kidding me!" "Honest to God! I'm not lying. She took one glance and lost it." "I'm sorry I'm laughing," said Cynthia. "This is not funny. You poor thing." "Oh, you're fine. Honestly, like I said, not my proudest moment. But ya know what? What are you gonna do? God gave this to me. It's certainly not gonna be for everyone." Cynthia smiled and nodded. "That's a great perspective." After a pause of silence, she spoke again. "Besides, there are plenty... and I mean plenty of women out there that would be over the moon for what you have." "Really?" "Oh, really. Believe me. I'm one of them." Cynthia's crotch tingled after admitting to Peter that she was into larger penises. She rarely spoke about it, but tonight was different. She wanted the young man to know he had exactly what she craved. Plus, the wine helped. Peter turned to her in shock. His mouth dropped. "Really?" he whispered, suddenly very cognizant of their environment. She nodded excitedly. "Really," she said. "But mine's, like, ridiculous. It's not just big, it's obscene. Sometimes I look at it and I'm just like what the fuck is this thing, ya know?" he joked. "Like it's out of a horror movie." Cynthia laughed as she leaned forward clutching her belly. "What did I tell you about making me laugh too hard!" After a moment of pause, she turned to him. "How big is it?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Peter looked up. "Well, we measured it a few months ago. 'We' meaning me and this girl I was with at the time. I swear it was like nine inches I think. Or just over nine." "Your penis is nine inches?" Cynthia asked. "You're not serious." "Oh, I am," he laughed. "I told you it's a freakshow." "Not to me. I think it looks nice. I told you that." Peter nodded. "Oh believe me, I remember. Those sorts of things stay in your mind, ya know?" Cynthia nodded in agreement. She knew all too well about things popping into your mind. As Peter looked up again, she looked down. She noticed he had his hands neatly folded on his lap. They were positioned in such a way, he appeared to be hiding something. She clearly knew what it was. "Peter?" she asked, softly. "Yes?" "Are you trying to hide something?" she asked, giggling while nodding towards his crotch. "Are you gonna think I'm a creep?" Cynthia laughed. "I'm thirty-nine. There's no shame anymore. I've seen it all. A boner's a boner. May as well let it breathe." Peter laughed. "Touche," he said as he casually removed his hands, revealing a sturdy tent popping up under his shorts. "And there he is," he announced. "There he is," she repeated. "He still looks a little cramped, huh?" "You want me to take it all the way out?" Peter's cock throbbed at even the idea of being completely exposed to the beautiful Cynthia. "If you want to!" she said. "I'm not gonna stop you, that's for sure." She checked the house behind them. "They're all asleep," she whispered. Peter eagerly slid his boxer briefs down to his ankles, kicking them off to the patio below. He then picked up his cock at the base and held it up proudly. He smiled as he checked Cynthia's reaction. She didn't show any emotion at first. Instead opting for an acknowledging head nod. Almost as if to say "Yup, there it is." After she stared at it for a few moments, she couldn't help but burst out laughing. "What?" Peter asked, confused. "Should I not have done this?" "Oh heavens no, honey. You're fine. I don't mean to laugh. It's just that... my goodness you're a big boy, that's all!" "Heh, yup. I told you," he said, glancing down at his hard-on. "It's a beast." "It's long and thick. You sort of check both boxes there, don't you?" she said as she propped her head up with her hand, as if she was watching a movie or something. "I think it's the thickness that scares people," he admitted while still looking at it. "That's the best part," Cynthia whispered playfully. "Believe me." The two of them stared at it a bit longer. Peter even stroked it ever so slightly, unsure if Cynthia could even see that he did. "Can you tell he's enjoying this?" he asked, referring to his penis in the third person. "It's impressive! You look like you're ready to burst over there," she said. Cynthia could feel herself warming up. She was desperately entranced by the young man. She had allowed herself to be this free and open so far, there was no sense slowing down. "You can if you want to, ya know." Peter turned to her with a surprised look. "Really? You don't care?" "Why would I care? It's a normal thing we all do, Peter." "So, where? Like, just right here?" Peter asked. "In front of you?" "Well, don't make a mess! But sure. Right here. Why not?" she asked as she took another sip of wine. "May as well show me what those big balls of yours can produce, right?" "Right," said Peter as he nervously began stroking his cock in front of Cynthia. "Speaking of which, that's another thing that scares girls." "Oh does it now?" Cynthia laughed. "Am I in for a show?" Peter bit his lower lip as he jerked off. "You might be!" Cynthia crossed her gorgeous legs and in doing so, slipped a hand between them. This way, she could subtly play with herself without Peter knowing. She wasn't quite ready to show all her cards anyhow. Her pussy felt great as she secretly massaged it while watching Peter masturbate. Her eyes got heavy with lust as she watched him cradle his balls with one hand and stroke with the other. He repeatedly licked his palm for lubrication. "How's it feel?" she asked, breaking the long silence. "Really good. It feels really, really good." "I'm glad." Peter then used two hands to jerk off, much to the amusement of Cynthia. She had never seen a man with a big enough cock to use two hands and still have more room. It was quite impressive. Without the support of his hand, his big balls slapped up and down with feverish movements. "You getting there?" she asked quietly. Peter made eye contact and nodded. He was very close. "Don't be too messy, remember!" she teased. Peter put all his focus on his cock. He was so close to orgasm. It didn't matter that his best friend's stepmom was watching. Or that his friends were asleep inside. Nothing else mattered. He just wanted to cum. "Argghhhh!" he belted out. Cynthia giggled and made a "Shoosh" sound while she eagerly watched the first thick, white cumshot spew out his cock onto his belly. "Whoa," she said quietly. Plenty more came out as Peter kicked his legs and jutted his butt up in the air. He shot six, seven, eight thick loads all over his body. Several were shooting so far, they went over his head. "Oh my God!" Cynthia said quietly. She was in shock with how much he was cumming. "You cum so much!" Peter kept going as more shots were fired with less velocity, landing harmlessly on his belly. All said and done, he came twelve blasts as he relaxed, panting, and clutching his hard cock for dear life. "Peter!" Cynthia gasped as she looked around at the cum he left everywhere. "How on Earth?" Peter turned to her and sheepishly laughed. "I told you, Cynthia. It's an insane amount." "Peter this is not normal," she said, still surveying the cumshot. She looked up at him. "Believe me, I'm a nurse." They each cracked up laughing. Peter peered around to see where he got it. It had landed on the patio behind where his head was. Three thick blasts. "Oh fuck," he said. "I'm sorry." "Wait right there," Cynthia said as she darted for the kitchen leaving Peter lying naked, covered in his own spunk and an erection that didn't seem to go down. After several minutes, she emerged from the sliding door with a towel. She approached Peter. He held his hands out to accept the towel, but Cynthia went to work herself. She gently wiped the cum from his belly and chest. She chuckled as she cleaned some that landed on his face. She cleaned off the back of the chair before looking at his penis. It too was covered in sticky cum. She casually lifted it up with one hand while using the towel to clean it dry. She worked methodically and calmly, much like she did at work when caring for a sick patient. She had a professional calmness to her that made Peter feel at ease. It was nice to be taken care of by her. Watching her slender and neatly manicured fingers handle his large cock was mesmerizing. Her hands were petite. The giant slab of meat made them look even smaller. Peter couldn't help but notice any time some of his cum accidentally got on her hand. There was certainly enough of it around. "There we go. Think I got it all?" she asked, inspecting her work. "I think you did," he agreed. "Oh wait, your balls!" Cynthia then handled each large orb with extra care. She held them up with her hand while using the towel to carefully scrub them clean. She laughed to herself. "You shoot so much. I seriously can't even get over this." "Thanks," Peter said, unsure how to respond to her praise. "I can see you're enjoying this, huh?" she asked as she squeezed the base of his dick. Her fingers couldn't quite touch when they encircled him. "I have a tendency to stay like this for a little bit." "It's a good skill to have. The women probably don't complain," she said as she gave him a couple of playful strokes before letting it back down. Cynthia stood back up, hands on her hips looking around. "You'll have to get the hose for the rest. I'm not cleaning the patio," she announced. "And Jesus there's a lot on there too! You're something else, Peter." Peter stood up next to her to see what she was talking about. It truly was everywhere. "No problem, Cynthia. I can clean this up." Cynthia looked down at his still erect cock. She put her hand on it yet again. "Nine inches. Look at this thing," she said. "You've got a talent Peter." Peter let her stroke it without protesting. He felt as if he could cum again. "Feel free to just keep doing that if you want." Cynthia looked up at him and smiled. "You're cute," she said. "Maybe next time," she whispered. "You and this dick of yours should go to bed. Make sure you're not like this before joining your buddy down there, ok?" "Heh, ok, ok. Goodnight," he said. Cynthia kissed him once on the cheek before looking down at his cock. She stroked it, this time harder and longer. She let it go and looked up at him. "Goodnight."

"I don't care about what you do for this years cultural festival. Just as long as it isn't something that I have to help with okay?" Shota Aizawa then collapsed to the floor in his yellow sleeping bag as his class erupted into chatter. "MAID CAFE" "Shut up Mineta!" "Let's change things around a bit and make this something to be in the books as the best U.A can provide!" "Plus Ultra!" "What's something they wouldn't expect Class-A to do, but would still be a classic?!" Ochaka Uraraka felt a zap strike into her mind. "What about a haunted house!" People gradually noticed the idea. "Yeah! This'll show Monoma!" "We couldn't do anything like this at the summer camp! It's our turn this time!" "Great idea Uraraka! I, myself am not good at scaring others. However, with the U.A standards set high by our seniors we must try to achieve!" Iida chopped his hand dangerously close to her head while Uraraka sheepishly rubbed her head. Until she noticed Midoriya who looked down with a shadow over his eyes, shaking as if he was remembering something which should have never happened. "What's wrong Deku? Are you okay?!" He looked back at them with a pale face sporting two sunken eyes. "What's wrong Midoriya! Should I transfer you to the infirmary?!" His shaking stopped and fist unclenched. "No..." Uraraka didn't believe it for one second. She grasped her hands over his shoulders and shook mildly in case he had somehow broken a bone. "What is it?!" He looked down to the floor. "I'm... really bad with being jump scared..." Uraraka felt her laughter burst out. "You'll be the one scaring so I think it'll be okay! Do not fret Midoriya, I shall (stop laughing Uraraka it's a perfectly reasonable reaction!) watch to make sure you don't fall victim to any silly pranks!" ————— It was finally the night of their performance! Well, not exactly night, but still! Yaoyorozu and Iida were bound by their duties as class representatives to greet whoever were to come in. Shoji, Aoyama, and Mina worked as both the make up specialists and jump scared those who'd enter by the front. Uraraka thought they made a pretty good trio at that. Jirou hid at the end with a camera to get a picture of fright from whoever was to chase victims out. Tokoyami might have gotten a bit to carried away with decorations in Uraraka's option however. They'd all been dressed up in some of the many capes which hung around his closet. Meanwhile the rest of them had been split into different areas to scare people in. Uraraka privately believed that she had gotten a good placing while poor Midoriya had to be close to the beginning. Finally she heard her first scream of the night. It echoed out across the maze they'd made from all the spare materials U.A had lying about. So she prepped herself in the corner. One adjustment here, slouch over a bit, get ready, pull a weird face. "Okay, this should be good when-" A blur ran past her station in a flash of orange. Shocked she took an instinctive step back and from her new advantage point could see what was clearly the results of some sort of speed quirk being used. Why would anyone use their quirk though? Throughout the rest of her time she only managed to scare a couple of people who stopped to take a breather. She knew now though that somebody must have scared them away. Who? The day nearly came to its close and Uraraka decided that if nobody was going to stop over at her station she might as well check out whoever was in front of her. She was a woman on a mission! Uraraka hide behind walls miming a gun while shooting at invisible opponents. She was not a Hero no longer! Now she was a spy looking for a story to give to their local newspaper while playing it off that they actually were just a regular kid and then they would get promoted to an editor for the company- Wait! Uraraka shook her head. She couldn't be distracted on this mission! "So this is what those 1-A flunkies think they can beat our class with? Hah! The scares here aren't even enough to scare a puppy!" "Shoji seemed to scare something a bit different from a puppy Monoma." "I WASN'T SCARED!" Uraraka held her breath and hid behind a conveniently shaped lamp which was being used as a prop. Just in time! Monoma, Kendo, and Tetsutetsu came out from behind the walls right after Uraraka had finished getting into place. Now she would see who really was the scarer! "It's a bit lame, but I bet Kiri-Bro's part will be awesome!" Kendo's finger absently trailed over the rail prop until she stopped and checked her hand muttering "Their props are great quality." Monoma shook his head wildly "No! See?! It's just U.A that did the items! 1-A can't do anything on their own just like the babies they-" A scratching noise came from down a hallway on the right. Stifling any conversation left over. This was it. "Hah! You 1-A have to resort to cheap tricks and they still don't even scare us! Come out and we'll forgive your horrible acting skills!" A male child's voice rang out from the shadows. "My friends don't want to play with me." A shiver ran down her spine as Uraraka realised this voice was unlike that of anybody in her class or age group. "W-What?!" The trio took a minor step backwards as a dark shadow grew less and less hazy as it seemingly floated forwards. "They're so mean. Nobody ever wants to play with me." Sickly green eyes opened and glowed in the darkness as Uraraka could finally make out blood splatters on the rags the short child was wearing. Why couldn't she breath?! "Will you play with me?" Monoma shrieked and slid with his friends who couldn't seem to move. "Come on! Get away from us!!!" "W-What is that?!" "It's gonna eat us!" A horrible smile broke out across its face. "Playtime." The trio ran down the hallways at last screaming in terror. While all Uraraka could do was hide. Weakling. The monsters presences was barely there. It dwindled then struck like some kind of snake, no, monster in the shadows. "Oh! Again?" Uraraka felt lighting bubble under her skin. Midoriya!?! The creature took off a now obviously fake rag from Tokoyami's closet and sat down sighing. "I wanted to do my roof climbing thing one more time. Guess I can't now..." The Earth was shaking around Uraraka. No. Midoriya?! How did he do that?! Was their something wrong with- Oh. Uraraka felt faint thinking back to all of his fights and the scary expressions he had worn while doing unspeakable things to his own body. He really was a monster.

"That was some fuckin killer weed," Charlie said as he sprawled out on the couch and stretched his arms. The comment woke Peter who was on the opposite sofa. He rolled over with his eyes still closed. "Dude," Charlie repeated, looking over at Peter. "What?" he responded, eyes still shut. "I said that was some killer weed." "Mmm hmm," Peter said, dismissively, unwilling to engage in conversation just yet. Charlie suddenly burst out laughing. This caused Peter to finally open his eyes and look over. "What?" he asked. "Your fuckin dong is out!" Charlie blurted out as he laughed uncontrollably. Peter frantically looked down to see his penis head poking out under his boxers that had ridden up as he slept. He urgently tucked it back in. "Jesus," he muttered to himself before joining Charlie in laughing. "Fucking thing." "Legit never knew you had such a huge one, dude," Charlie said. "When you got cut the other day.. Cynthia was probably like 'what the fuck'?" Peter replayed her reaction to him ejaculating on the patio late at night. If only Charlie knew what had happened. "I guess," he responded humbly. "How big are you hard though?" Charlie asked, never one to shy away from awkward conversations. "Huh?" "Your dick, dude. When you're hard it must be a foot long." Peter closed his eyes again. "I dunno, man." "Bullshit," Charlie laughed. "You know exactly how long it is. If I had that, I'd be proud of it. I'd have pictures of it up on the fridge." Peter turned to him and smirked. "I am proud. Believe me." Charlie laughed again. "You fuckin' dog, bro. Let's go upstairs. I'm fuckin' starving." ------------------------- "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Cynthia said, smiling. "I am the most senior person in this room. Someone needs to tame you guys!" Charlie had just told another off color joke as the three boys and Cynthia sat around the kitchen table drinking coffee and eating pastries. Despite being twenty years old, Charlie still acted like a teenager sometimes, often unaware of his audience when going on a comedic tangent. Kevin remained mostly quiet, having a bit of a hangover from the night before. Peter joined in on the jokes, making sure to steer Charlie back on track for the sake of everyone else. "Oh yeah, Charlie. I'm sure she's definitely going to respond to you," Peter said sarcastically, referring to a girl that Charlie certainly left unimpressed with his antics. He smiled around the room, landing on Cynthia as they two made eye contact. She responded with a warm smile and a glimmer in her eyes. Her beauty even in the morning with no makeup was unrivaled. Peter had always found her attractive, even as a young boy. But after last night, the two had a newfound connection that he could not take his mind off. His heart raced at even the slightest interaction with her. They had a secret. An unlikely encounter had left them in a unique predicament. But Peter loved it. He smiled back at her. "I'm going back to bed," Kevin said, rubbing his temple. "I'm going to Jane's house," said Charlie, clearly facetiously as he had just finished telling a story of his failed attempts at courting her. Kevin retreated to his bedroom while Charlie went downstairs to gather his things. Peter and Cynthia were left to clean up breakfast together. Once they were safely at the sink with the running water, Cynthia playfull elbowed Peter. "And how are you feeling this morning?" Peter checked the area to ensure no one was around. "I'm good. I feel refreshed. You?" Cynthia nodded as she scrubbed a plate. "I'm good, thanks. You probably slept well huh?" As she cleaned the plate, her large breasts bounced under her t-shirt. Peter could see that she wasn't wearing a bra. His cock lurched at the glorious sight. He nervously laughed. "I did sleep well." Cynthia crept up closer to him so that her left breast was touching his arm. Peter didn't protest as he continued to go about cleaning dishes. "I've never seen a display like that," Cynthia whispered. "You came so much!" Peter stopped what he was doing and smiled down at Cynthia. He was about six inches taller than her. "That wasn't even my record either," he said slyly. "My goodness. You have some serious gifts, Peter." She pressed even closer to him, this time reaching over and rubbing his thigh. "Some very serious and big gifts," she repeated. By now, Peter was sprouting an erection, plainly visible through his shorts. Cynthia eyed it and smiled. She tapped the head of his protruding cock with her finger. "Good morning, sir," she said teasingly. She and Peter laughed together. "Is there any more coffee left?" a deep voice from the other side of the kitchen emerged. Peter immediately recognized it as Cynthia's husband and Kevin's father, Frank. While Cynthia carried on washing dishes, Peter froze in place. He had an aching erection and was about to have a very uncomfortable encounter. "On the table in the carafe, honey!" Cynthia called out. Peter pretended to be preoccupied washing a plate that was blatantly already clean. "Kevin's friends are actually doing something useful around here?" Frank asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He had a way about him that it was difficult to tell if he was actually joking or not. "Gotta do my part somehow, Mr. Myers." Peter couldn't turn around as he still sported a sizeable half erection. "I didn't even hear you come home, honey," Cynthia said. Frank sat down at the table, crossed his legs and opened the newspaper. "I came home late last night. Flight kept getting delayed over and over again," he said without looking up from the paper. Peter carefully watched for Cynthia's reaction, but she didn't seem phased by the conversation. Peter asked himself, as he frantically replayed the events of last night, unsure if he had been caught. Frank was a mysterious character around the house. Peter and Charlie barely knew him as he traveled so much, but his large frame and deep, commanding voice often left them feeling intimidated. If he had seen what happened last night, Peter didn't know what he'd do. He admitted to himself he would have to fight. Not just Frank, but maybe Kevin as well. This would not be good. The fear and urgency of the situation allowed him to completely soften between his legs, enough that he could now turn around. Frank still didn't look up. "That barbecue place on Pleasant is already gone," he announced. "No one seems to survive that corner." "It's doomed," Cynthia added. "Doomed forever," Frank agreed. Charlie emerged from the basement. "Welp. I'm hittin the dusty trail folks. Oh, hey Frank, didn't know you were home." Frank ignored Charlie as he continued to peruse the newspaper. "Yeah I'm gonna get going too. Thanks for letting us stay here last night," said Peter. "So soon?" Frank finally looked up. "Was it something I said?" He looked at Peter square in the eyes. He had not even flinched when Charlie announced he was leaving, yet something piqued his interest. His gaze was punishing. Peter's stomach dropped. "Uhh, yeah. I have to work... so..." Frank turned back to his newspaper. Peter didn't dare look at Cynthia until he was well out of the kitchen and in the foyer. Cynthia followed shortly after. As Charlie headed for the car outside, she placed her hands on Peter's shoulders and smiled. "Relax," she whispered. "We'll talk soon." Peter dashed for the car and jumped in. "You alright dude?" Charlie asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost." "I'm good. Let's go," said Peter. "Did Cynthia just give you a quick reach around?" Charlie joked as Peter glared at him. Peter looked out the window as they drove off. "Do you think Kevin's dad is an asshole? He was being kind of a dick, right?" "He's always been like that. Ever since we were kids. The guy has a giant stick up his ass all the time," said Charlie. Peter couldn't help but wonder if Frank knew what happened on the patio. In the heat of the moment, the last thing he was thinking about was checking to see if someone was watching. "Fuckin Cynthia's so hot, man," said Charlie. "Walkin' around without a bra. My God. You know what I mean?" he turned to Peter. He smiled and nodded. "She's a smoke, for sure." "Can't believe she saw you naked too. I guarantee you she thought about your dick. Thousand percent." Peter didn't respond, opting to stare out the window instead. He had something else on his mind. ------------------------------ Since his parents moved to Florida when he left for college, they didn't sell the house that Peter grew up in. Instead, they held onto it so he could stay there when home from school. Peter jerked off constantly the following few days. He couldn't stop thinking about what happened and yearned for another opportunity with Cynthia. She told him they would talk soon, but aside from him returning to Kevin's house, he had no idea when that would happen. One afternoon, he was lying on the couch playing with his cock watching porn when his phone vibrated. It was an unknown number. "Hi" Peter didn't respond. "It's Cynthia." Peter then stroked his cock excitedly before he typed back. "Hi how r u?" "I'm thinking about you sweetie," she said. "We should get together again soon. Not here tho lol" Peter continued to jerk off. He was desperately horny and she wrote to him at the exact right time. "What are you thinking?" he replied. "Maybe we can get a hotel or something" Cynthia typed back. "That would be awesome. Tomorrow?" Peter replied, maybe a bit too eager. He didn't get a response. His confidence deflated. Maybe he was being too forward with his best friend's stepmom, after all. Nearly fifteen minutes passed until his phone went off again. "You're cute. How about Thursday?" Thursday was three days away. It would have to do. Peter responded with the thumbs up. Just as he was about to put his phone down, another message arrived. "Send me something to look at until then." It couldn't have been a better time to send a picture. Peter was throbbing hard. His dick looked perfect as he held it by the base, sprawled out on the couch. Precum leaked from the tip, traversing his bloated cock head. He snapped a couple pictures, picked the best one and hit send. After only a few moments, he got a response. "You're huge. You're amazing." Peter smiled satisfactorily as he stroked his cock. He typed out a response. "I need to empty this thing now." "Not there! You're going to ruin Sharon's beautiful couch." The comment reminded Peter of who he was flirting with. This woman, although younger than his mother, knew her well. They went to the boys' sports games together. They served on the parent teacher council together. It was all so bizarre... Suddenly, the moment arrived. Peter came fast and hard, squirting thick loads straight up into the air of his quiet living room. He moaned as he jerked himself off, shooting his cum in the air like a fountain. It came splashing back down on his belly and legs, coating himself in a familiar sticky white goop. Afterwards, he laid there calmly, surveying the mess he made. He then snapped a photo of his deflating cock, resting on his belly surrounded by a massive mess of sperm. Without even thinking, he sent it to Cynthia. Again, no response. Peter panicked. Did someone else have her phone? Why would she not respond to that? He tossed his phone aside and ran to the shower to clean up. As he scrubbed himself down, he thought about what he'd do if someone saw that message. Like Kevin or worse, Frank. He would have to just be honest and face the consequences. He hurried back to the living room naked and unlocked his phone. One new message. "Looks good enough to eat." He breathed a sigh of relief as he plopped back down on the couch. Crisis averted. ---------------------------------- Cynthia and Kevin sat outside on the patio having dinner one night. As they chatted, Cynthia eyed the lounge chair behind Kevin. No more than a week ago, her stepson's best friend was stretched out on that chair jerking off in front of her. In fact, he had probably ejaculated close to where Kevin was seated at that very moment. She snapped out of it and turned to Kevin. "How's work going?" Kevin shrugged as he chewed his salad. "I cut grass. That's work." Cynthia nodded. "Money's money, right?" Kevin looked out across the pool. "I just wanna graduate and do a real job." "You should work for your father." "Oh yeah? And be gone 90% of the time on a plane to God knows where? No thanks." Kevin always dismissed his father's line of work. He hated that he never saw him and vowed to never get wrapped into a career like that. Besides, he enjoyed the time at home with just Cynthia. She was so easy going and things were far less stressful without Frank around. "I agree. The travel part is hard. Money's good though," Cynthia commented as she pointed to their surroundings. The backyard was expertly manicured and the pool was modern and lavish. Kevin nodded. He had thrown one too many parties at the house all through high school and afterwards. It was good to have a nice house, plenty of money and a stepmother he got along with. Cynthia's phone buzzed. She ignored it as she poured another glass of wine. "That thing's been ringing off the hook. You starting a business I should know about?" Kevin asked. She smiled. "Robocalls. They never stop." Kevin nodded in agreement. "Hey listen," Cynthia started. "I'll be gone tomorrow night. Nurse's conference in the city. I'm gonna get a hotel with a coworker. Judy. You remember her." "With the hair?" Kevin asked. Cynthia laughed. "With the hair. But yes, just one night. Your father comes back the next night so we'll all be back together then." Kevin nodded, although appeared disappointed. "What, so no movie night anymore?" "Rain check?" Kevin shook his head. "Unbelievable," he decreed facetiously. "Have Amy over!" Cynthia suggested to which Kevin glared at her. "Meh," he said, uninterested. He was always hot and cold with his girlfriend. "You'll be fine," Cynthia said as she grabbed his arm and gave it a soft rub. ------------------------------ The hotel was well off the beaten path. Far outside the city center in an industrial park, the Courtyard Marriott was nondescript and only sparsely populated with business travelers. As Peter pulled in, he immediately noticed Cynthia's car parked in the back row underneath a large tree. He decided to drive around and park far from her car, just in case. His nerves were shaking. His heart didn't stop racing. He felt naughty and mischievous. he thought to himself. Part of him worried he wouldn't be able to fit inside her and he'd never get another opportunity. Shortly after just two knocks on the door, he could hear the deadbolt followed by the door opening a crack. "Come in," he heard from inside as he pushed the door open. Cynthia was already headed towards the back of the room, carrying a wine glass. She wore a black summer dress and was barefoot. She turned back to him and smiled as he followed her. "Do you feel like James Bond?" she asked. "Kind of!" Peter said, at ease from the opening joke. "Have a seat. Pour a drink. Relax." Peter grabbed a wine glass and helped himself. He didn't normally drink wine, but figured it was better to be classy tonight. He wore skinny jeans and a v-neck t-shirt that outlined his figure boastfully. He sat down on the couch, opposite Cynthia. Cynthia crossed her legs and bounced her bare foot in the air. She smiled as she took a sip, never breaking eye contact with Peter. "You gonna whip it out?" she asked. Peter was dumbfounded. "Really? Right now?" Cynthia burst out laughing. "No, honey. I'm kidding. Relax. We're here now. It's safe." Peter laughed. "Ok, but if you want to see it, you know you can. You probably have twenty pictures of it by now anyways." Cynthia shook her head. "All deleted sweetheart. I enjoy the moment, but cover my tracks." "Ahh, very smart." "You know," Cynthia said as she switched which leg was crossed. "Frank can't ever find out about this. I'm serious. He can never know." Peter became solemn. "Absolutely. I would never dare." "Good," she said as she studied his face. She determined him to be trustworthy and a safe option for what they were about to do. For the next hour, the two spent time getting acquainted. As good conversationalists, there was never a dull moment. Peter made her laugh with silly jokes. He was charming, funny, and seemingly more and more at ease. Cynthia migrated to the couch so they were next to each other. She propped her feet up on the coffee table and noticed Peter was checking them out. "You like feet, huh?" she asked as she stretched out her painted toes. "I like yours," Peter clarified. "They're slim, petite. Well manicured." "Pedicured," she corrected him. "Whatever," he laughed. "You have really pretty feet. In fact, all of you is very pretty. But you already know all this." "Thank you, honey." Just then, Cynthia's phone buzzed. She picked it up so see a text message. 'I miss you.' She placed it back down without responding and focused all her attention on Peter. "Now, what do you say we see that penis of yours I hear so much about?" Peter laughed as he put his wine glass down next to Cynthia's sexy feet. "Oh yeah?" he asked, reaching for his belt. "That's how this begins?" "Sure is," she said, laughing, as she placed her glass next to his and got comfortable. "I'm so excited!" She clapped a few times. "That makes two of us," Peter said before pulling his jeans down and sitting back down in his black boxer briefs. He then eyed Cynthia's bust line with a look of desire. "Do I get to see anything too?" "In time," she reassured him. "Show me him again first." Peter was very obviously hard as he tucked his thumbs under his waistband, delaying the reveal intentionally. He looked up at Cynthia whose eyes were glued to the massive tent standing up underneath. "C'mon!" she shrieked in excitement, like a young teenager who just had a first kiss. He then proudly pulled his boxer briefs down. His heavy cock flung back with force, resting against his belly. Cynthia gasped as she studied its underside. "It's so big," she repeated like last time. "It's bigger than any man I've ever seen." "You want me to jerk off again?" he asked. Cynthia didn't respond. Instead, she picked it up with her dainty hands. She began to stroke him herself. Peter moaned softly as he sunk into the couch. He spread his legs, revealing his heavy and full balls. For several minutes, Cynthia rubbed him in silence. One hand rested on his thigh while the other did the work. "I can get two hands on you," she said as she now jerked him with both. "Probably three," Peter estimated as they both watched her masturbate him. "Can you spit on it?" he asked. Cynthia tucked her hair back behind her ear and leaned forward. At first, she had a hard time getting spit out. They both laughed at the insufficient amount that dribbled out. "It's hard!" she said as she caught her breath and got ready to try again. "Ok, ok, ok," she said. She then was able to spit a decent amount that dripped from her mouth down to his aching cock. She dispersed it with both hands. "How's that feel?" she asked. "So good." "Yeah?" she asked. "Good." She continued to jerk him off as he moaned in delight. The imagery of her beautiful hands, dangling breasts, and blonde hair constantly getting in the way was sending him rapidly towards the edge. He even heard her moan tiny little noises every once and again. It was all culminating rapidly for Peter and he sensed he was about to cum. "Wait, wait, wait, stop," he said as he grabbed her wrist. "I don't wanna shoot off too early." Cynthia looked perplexed. "I thought you could stay hard after?" "Well, yeah, I can... I mean I normally do, but... is that what you want? To do more?" Cynthia smiled warmly at the young man. His hesitancy was charming. "I have big plans for you," she said as she continued jerking his cock. "Let's get this first one out of the way and put you out of your misery." A split second afterwards, the first blast of cum came rifling out the tip and into the air. It was a gusher. Cynthia squealed in excitement as she watched it go up in the air and land back down on Peter with a splat. "Ohhh!" she shouted out. "Oh fuck!" Peter said in strained pleasure as he continued to cum from Cynthia's glorious hands. White cum spilled out, much of which fell back down onto her hands while she never stopped stroking. She bit her lip in concentration as she proudly coaxed a massive orgasm out of him. "Keep going," he said. "Oh fuck, that's good." "It doesn't stop!" Cynthia whispered, admirably watching as the ninth and tenth blasts of cum exited the spasming penis. "You are such a good boy," she said much like a nurturing mother would. As the final bead of white cum dripped out, Peter let out a sigh before laughing uncontrollably. "Holy shit!" he said. "I just got a handjob from my best friend's stepmom!" Cynthia released his cock and held up all ten fingers, covered in cum. "Yes you certainly did!" Cynthia looked around, noticing cum all over Peter's stomach, the couch, and the table in front of them. "You went everywhere. You're incredible!" "You are," he said. "You legit are incredible." Cynthia wiped the excess cum on Peter's thigh without protest from him. She then lovingly picked up his cock and gauged its hardness. "Does it ever go down?" Peter grinned and shook his head. "Not around you. What else should we do?" Cynthia rested it back down on his stomach and then looked up at him. "I have a few ideas."

********************** Beth Anne’s House - Late Sunday Afternoon ********************** Sonny slowly pulled his SUV into Beth Anne’s driveway and put it in park. Him and Amanda then hopped out and headed to the back of the car to get the girls out. Sonny lifted Jesse, who had unbuckled herself from her booster seat, out of the vehicle while Amanda placed the box of zeppole she was holding on top of the SUV and went to remove Billie from her carseat harness. Sonny held onto Jesse’s hand, walked around to Amanda’s side of the vehicle and then grabbed the box. “Ready?” Amanda nodded as she set Billie down on the ground and took ahold of her hand. The foursome then proceeded to the front door. “Can I ring the doorbell?” Jesse asked her mother once they reached it. “Yes.” Amanda told her. “Just once.” Jesse excitedly hit it and a few moments later Jim Rollins appeared before them. “Grandpa!” Both Jesse and Billie exclaimed as they each immediately went to give him a big hug. The girls then quickly brushed passed him and hurried inside looking for their grandmother. Jim went to hug Amanda and then turned his attention to the counselor and shook his hand. “Sonny, nice to see you.” Sonny gave him a small smile. “You as well, sir.” He then stepped aside and motioned for them to come in. The couple walked inside and made their way toward the kitchen where the girls were sitting down at the table drinking from juice boxes and Beth Anne was standing by the stove, stirring a pot. She put her spoon down on the counter and grinned. “Amanda, Sonny.” Amanda walked up to her mom and gave her a hug. “Hey mom.” When they broke apart Beth Anne turned her attention to a smiling Sonny who, after giving her a hug, presented her with the box of zeppole. “Thank you for having me.” He said to her. Beth Anne nodded and set the box down on the counter. “Of course. You’re always welcome.” Which he was. Sonny had sat down for dinner with Amanda’s mom before. Beth Anne had actually insisted he come over for dinner soon the last time she saw him about a month and a half ago when he brought Amanda, who’s car had broken down, up to get the girls from her house. So when Amanda called her mom to see if she and her dad were free on Sunday and would want to have dinner and visit with her and the girls, she was secretly hoping Beth Anne would ask her to bring Sonny along and she did, much to her relief. Because she didn’t want to go into dinner with her folks suspicious as to why she wanted Sonny there. While she was ready to reveal the relationship, she was hoping to do it in her own way. “Where’s Mason?” Amanda asked as she looked around. Her mother picked up her spoon and resumed her stirring. “At a sleepover.” Amanda nodded and then smiled as she watched Sonny, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table, exchange funny faces with Billie. She then turned her attention back to Beth Anne and Jim, who had joined everyone in the kitchen, and the three adults began to engage in idle chit chat. XXXXXXXXXXXX Jesse and Billie were served dinner first not long after the four of them had arrived. Amanda then got the girls settled in the family room, turned on the Amazon Firestick for them and selected the Disney Plus app. “Here you go Jess.” Amanda said to her oldest daughter as she handed her the remote. “Me, Sonny, Grandma and Grandpa are right outside if you need us.” “OK.” Jesse said as she pulled up the movie ‘Encanto.’ Her and Billie then sprawled out on the couch together. Amanda smiled and joined Sonny and her parents out on the patio. It was an unusually warm March day and her mother thought it’d be nice if they ate outside. Talk during dinner was kept very much at the surface level. Sports, the weather, etc. Once they were almost finished, Amanda and Sonny exchanged looks and, realizing the evening was starting to wind down, decided it was time to share their news. “Mom, dad.” Amanda said clearing her throat. “There’s somethin’ I wanted to talk to you about. Something I wanna tell you.” She took in a deep breath and told them, “So Sonny and I…we umm…are a couple.” Amanda and Sonny quietly waited for some sort of a reaction from her parents, who didn’t give them much of one. “We know.” Jim finally told them. She started to stutter. “H—how did…you—“ “Jesse told me.” Beth Anne said, cutting her daughter off. “Only after you coaxed it out of her with ice cream.” Jim added. Amanda rolled her eyes. “Really mom?” She then let her mind briefly wander to Jesse. When Amanda and Sonny first got together they hadn’t been sure what and how much to say to the girls about it. Jesse in particular. Especially since they were keeping it quiet in their public lives and amongst their families. But off time they had together usually needed to be spent at Amanda’s and while the two were good at keeping things G rated around the girls, they found it difficult and unnatural to always have to refrain from innocent forms of affection, like hand holding and cuddling, at home. So while they would’ve preferred waiting a bit, the couple ultimately decided to be upfront and honest with Jesse about the relationship early on. But when they sat her down to explain the situation, the two were surprised to learn that while happy about the news, Jesse was unaware this was a new development and had thought Sonny and her mom were already a couple for a much longer period of time than they actually had been. Since Jesse didn’t see it as a big deal and never went around announcing it to anyone when she mistakenly assumed they were dating, they weren’t concerned she’d bring it up to people. Even if she did, they agreed to deal with it when and if it happened. Neither Sonny or Amanda were going to ask the 6-year-old to lie for them. So though it was a little unexpected, she wasn’t shocked Jesse told Beth Anne and she assumed Sonny wasn’t either. “Well I had my suspicions and wanted to know so I asked her about it the last time I saw her a couple weeks ago.” Beth Anne said to her daughter shrugging, adding. “Because for whatever reason you’ve been keeping it from me. Which I don’t understand because you know your father and I both like Sonny.” Amanda sighed as she absentmindedly played with her fork. “I know you do and we weren’t purposely only hiding it from you. We just wanted to keep it between ourselves for a while and take some time to feel it out. Billie’s too young to really get it, but we told Jesse because she’s older and is very perceptive. It also just didn’t feel right keeping it from her. But she was the only one we told. Sonny’s family still doesn’t know either and we hadn’t said anything to Liv or anyone at work until a few days ago. We ended up staying quiet about it a lot longer than we anticipated, but it wasn’t intentional.” “How long have you been a couple?” Jim asked as he took one last bite of his steak. “Since early June of last year.” Sonny said to him. Both Beth Anne and Jim raised their eyebrows in surprise. “Well I wish you had told me earlier. But considering your history, I’m happy to hear you’ve been taking it slow.” Her mother finally told Amanda. “The last thing I’d want is for you to rush things and end up pregnant with a third baby.” It was in that moment the color in both Amanda and Sonny’s faces instantly dissipated and they immediately diverted their eyes away from her. Beth Anne’s gaze shifted back in forth between them and she sighed. “Jesus Christ, have you ever heard of birth control?” She asked her daughter. Amanda rubbed her temples. “I was on it mom.” She muttered quietly. Her mother sat staring at her for a while before finally saying. “Can we talk alone in the kitchen please?” Amanda fixed her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Sonny, who had been relatively quiet through out much of the exchange but now felt the need to insert himself more into the conversation. He knew she had wanted to take the lead on this but he could see she needed him. “Beth Anne with all due respect I’d appreciate hearing whatever is you wanted to say to Amanda privately.” He told her honestly. “Her and I are together and this is my child so it concerns me.” She nodded her head slowly. “OK.” Beth Anne said simply and immediately started explaining to her daughter exactly how she felt about this situation. “You should’ve made more of an effort to prevent a pregnancy. You didn’t need another baby right now, if ever. Because while I think Sonny’s a good man and I’m happy to see you’re giving someone like him a chance instead of the kind of guys you typically wasted your time on, you two might not be a good fit for each other. You’ve been together for several months, but that’s still not enough time to really know if this is something that’ll last. What if it ends up not workin’ out? You’re gonna be a single mom with THREE kids.” Amanda sighed and quietly processed what her mom said, but before she could say anything her mother spoke again. “I’d worry about you.” Beth Anne said a little sadly, her tough exterior softening. “You, the girls, and the baby. Because I know how hard it’s been for you with just Jesse and Billie. I can only imagine how hard it’d be with three.“ Sonny had been prepared to go on the offense in rebuttal to whatever Beth Anne was going to say, but he could tell that she was just genuinely concerned for her daughter and grandchildren. So when he saw that Amanda appeared to be at a loss for words, he decided to step up and respond to each of her mother’s points for her in a gentle, but still assertive, manner. “We weren’t reckless.” Sonny felt the need to highlight to Beth Anne. “We took precautions. Because while Amanda and I hadn’t gotten around to having a serious conversation about whether we’d want a baby together later on down the road, we both knew it wasn’t something we wanted at this stage of our relationship. But at the end of the day, things happen and while this baby was unplanned the two of us see him or her as a blessing.” He paused for a moment and then resumed speaking. “I can understand why you’re worried that this might not be a good thing. How if it didn’t work out and we broke up, Amanda would be left in a less than ideal situation. Well, I don’t like playing the ‘what if’ game but if we must do it I want you to know that even if Amanda and I were to split, I’d NEVER leave her alone to parent like she’s had to all these years. As the mother of my child she will forever be considered my family, regardless of whether or not her and I are together. I’ll always be there to support her and the kids. Physically, financially, and emotionally. And when I say kids I mean kids. Because while Jesse and Billie might not biologically be my daughters, I love them as if they were. I’ve been part of their lives since they were born and I would never abandon them.” Amanda blinked back her tears and smiled at him softly. Sonny set his hand on top of hers and gave it a light squeeze. “All that being said,” He continued. “I don’t plan on us breakin’ up. Because this relationship is somethin’ we both take very seriously and have wanted for a long time. It’s precious to us. And though we’ve been together for less than a year, it feels much longer because we were such good friends beforehand and know each other inside and out. Amanda’s seen me at my highest and lowest moments and I’ve been with her through hers. While everything’s gone pretty smoothly so far, I’m not naive to think there won’t be challenges and difficulties. But what I do know is I love Amanda with all my heart and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure what we have goes on forever. I won’t let her down. I promise.” Jim, Amanda and Sonny sat quietly staring at Beth Anne who remained silent for a long while as she took in everything he had just said to her before finally telling him, “I’ll hold you to that.” “Please do.” Sonny said to her. She slowly nodded and then gave him a small smile, which brought much relief to both Amanda and Sonny. “So when is this new grandchild of ours going to be here?” Jim asked the couple. “I still need to confirm that with a doctor.” Amanda told her father. “But I’d say sometime in November.” “Around Jesse’s birthday?” Beth Anne asked curiously. “Possibly.” Amanda said. “We’ll find out soon.” Her mother nodded. “She’s a good big sister. I’m sure she’ll be OK sharing her birthday with the baby if he or she ends up being born on the same day.” “I think so too.” Amanda agreed. “Well I’m looking forward to November.” She told the couple. “It looks like there’ll be lots to celebrate.” Sonny nodded. “That there will.” Beth Anne took a deep breath and looked around the table. “It’s gettin’ cold. Since everyone’s done, why don’t we head back in?” She then stood up, grabbed her plate and glass and walked back inside the house toward the kitchen. Amanda, Sonny, and Jim got up from their chairs as well, picked up their plates and glasses and followed her in. Just as they had all made their way into the kitchen, Jesse and Billie came scurrying in. “Can we have some zeppole?” Jesse asked Sonny as she walked up to him. “Sure you can.” He said to the girls as he grabbed a few napkins from the counter and headed toward the kitchen table, where the box sat. He grabbed two and handed one to each of them, but then picked up a third. “Do you think Bruno might want one too?” Sonny, with a mischievous looking grin on his face, asked the girls. Jesse and Billie’s jaws dropped. “Uncle Sonny,” Jesse admonished as she then made a reference to the movie he had figured her and Billie were watching, “We don’t talk about Bruno.” Sonny feigned ignorance. “Really?” “You knew that.” Jesse said as she shook her finger at him. “No I didn’t.” He stated very matter of factly. “Yes you did!” He put down the dessert and started tickling both girls. “No I didn’t!” Sonny then scooped Billie up into his arms and continued tickling her. Jesse set hers down on the table. “Me next! Me next!” He put Billie down, picked Jesse up and started tickling her, causing the six-year-old to giggle incessantly. Amanda smiled at the three of them and then looked over at her mother, who she saw was also smiling at them. XXXXXXXXXXXX About an hour later the foursome said their goodbyes and began the drive home. Amanda turned her head to look at the girls in the backseat of Sonny’s SUV. When she saw that both of them were past out, she said to him, “Thank you. For having my back in there tonight. And for saying everything you said.” Sonny, who noticed it was starting to rain, turned on his windshield wipers. “I meant every word of it.” He told her as he kept his eyes on the road but reached a hand out toward hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know.” She said, giving him a small grin. He briefly looked her way, smiled, and then turned his attention back to the road and hopped on the highway. ********************** Amanda’s Apartment - Friday Night ********************** The week after the reveal to Beth Anne and Jim was fairly uneventful for Sonny and Amanda. Work proceeded normally for Sonny and while McGrath ended up keeping Amanda on desk duty, he didn’t suspend her. She was happy about not being suspended, but disappointed about the desk duty, especially because she knew if it’d been solely Liv’s choice, her Captain would’ve taken her off and let her continue to investigate in the field a bit longer. But considering the circumstances Amanda figured she should just accept it without any pushback. As much as she hated it, she knew it was going to have to happen at some point because of the baby and that it wouldn’t be forever. Sonny’s folks got back from their vacation on Wednesday and tonight was the night he was going to have dinner with them so he could tell his mom and dad about their relationship and the baby. It was weighing heavily on her, but she did her best to keep herself occupied while he was out and focused on other things. There was one thing in particular she’d been wondering about. So with Sonny in Staten Island and Billie with Al for the weekend, Amanda thought it was a good time to dig into it. “Hey Jess,” Amanda called out to her daughter from the kitchen. “Can you come here?” Jesse emerged from her bedroom a few moments later and her eyes lit up when she saw two banana splits on the kitchen table. “Is one for me?” She asked hopefully as she sat down in a chair beside her mother. “Yup.” Amanda told her as she handed Jesse a spoon. The two sat quietly eating their banana splits for a while when Amanda asked, “So Jess, when you’re at grandma’s how do her and grandpa act around each other?” Jesse shoved a big spoonful into her mouth. “What do you mean?” Amanda poured some more chocolate syrup on her ice cream. “Do they act like Sonny and I? Are they a couple?” Jesse picked up her cherry and ate it. “No.” She said, laughing as if it were a silly notion. Amanda sighed with relief. “Grandma dates Bob.” Jesse offered up without any probing. Amanda raised an eyebrow at her. “Bob?” Jesse nodded. “From the gas station.” She then picked up a piece of chocolate covered banana and put it into her mouth. “Bob from the gas station, huh?” Amanda muttered to herself. The two continued to eat their banana splits and talk when a few minutes later they heard Sonny enter into the apartment. “Hi Sonny.” Jesse said with her mouth full of ice cream. “Look, mommy made us banana splits.” Sonny hung up his coat and set his keys down on the counter. “I see.” He sat down across from the duo at the table. Jesse shoved on last big spoonful into her mouth. “That was really good. Thank you for making it for me.” Amanda smiled. “Alright, it’s getting late. I want you to go wash your face and brush your teeth, OK?“ Jesse nodded, got up from the table and headed toward the bathroom. Amanda got up, brought Jesse’s bowl to the sink, grabbed a clean spoon and handed it to Sonny. “Banana splits at 8:30p right before bed?” Sonny asked as he scooped up some ice cream from her bowl. “Rollins, she’s gonna be up for hours.” She shrugged. “Well it’s the weekend so I figured why not.” “There was no other reason?” He asked curiously. “You weren’t using it to get information. Like your mom did?” “I mean, I asked her some questions while we ate, but no I wasn’t bribing her.” “Sure you weren’t.” Sonny chuckled. “What were you trying to find out?” Amanda sprayed some more whipped cream on top of the ice cream. “Just wanted to make sure my parents’ relationship was still platonic and that he’s only there because he needs a place to stay.” “Why didn’t you just ask when we were there on Sunday?“ He asked. “It would’ve been a good time to do it since we were all together having a serious, honest conversation with each other.” “I was afraid of how I would’ve reacted had they told me they were a couple.” Amanda admitted. “Because while I’m happy they can coexist with each other, they should never ever be more than friends. Not after how my dad treated her over the years.” “I agree.” Sonny said nodding. “So are they together?” “No.” Amanda said as she set the whipped cream can down. “Jesse told me my mom’s dating Bob from the gas station. Whoever that is.” He nodded and fixed his mouth to say something else when Jesse came back into the kitchen. “I know it’s almost bedtime, but I’m not really tired. Can I watch a movie on my iPad?” Amanda nodded. “Yes, just put your headphones in, OK?” Jesse nodded then gave them each a hug and said goodnight. She then headed off to her room and closed the door. Once Jesse was out of sight, Amanda wasted no time getting to the subject that had been on her mind all day. “So how did it go tonight?” She asked, biting her lip. Sonny’s seemingly relaxed nature a few moments earlier dissipated and Amanda could see him tense up a bit. “It was…fine.” He told her, without elaborating. Amanda stared at him intently. “That’s all? I wasn’t expecting a play by play, but I thought you’d tell me a little more than it went ‘fine.’” He sighed. “It could’ve gone a little better.” Sonny finally admitted. “My mom is definitely goin’ to need some time to process everythin’ but…she’ll come around.” Amanda frowned. “What does that mean? Can you please just tell me what happened? And don’t sugarcoat any of it.” Sonny set his spoon down and nodded. “OK.”

The dam had finally broken, the curse escalated its behavior and I didn't really know what to do about it. From this point on, my life began taking an almost surreal bent, and yes,I mean more than it had previously. Thankfully, there seemed to be minimal consequences from my humiliation at the party and the one at the bar, but that didn't mean things didn't escalate. As before, there was this relative stealthy nature to the curse; even if I were to be stripped naked and debased in public, people seemed to just "forget" about it, and I use the word lightly because it seemed people were aware of these incidents, they just shrugged them off. However, from this point on things changed slightly, people would still recognize that I was the girl at the center of all these incidents, but instead of simply ignoring them and disregarding them, people seemed to take that as an invitation to enact whatever scenario would get me "tricked" into stripping. Once more, I chose these words not in a literal sense, these pranks and tricks people were pulling on me were nothing more than flimsy excuses intended to justify stripping me in public. take for instance that time that Gary and I were heading to the mall, the month was coming to an end and I wanted to go shopping now that my paycheck had arrived. We got to a mall that had alot of great shops, and we started to browse for fun and cute things. Gary didn't really mind going shopping with me since he enjoyed having input on the clothes I wore, it was up to me to decide in the end, but I enjoyed giving him the illusion of choice just as much as he enjoyed having it. At one shop, I found a couple of nice pieces to wear, and wanted to try them out, I got in the changing booth and started trying out clothes. I heard Gary tell me he'd be going to the bathroom and that he'd be right back, I called back in acknowledgment, too engrossed in what I was doing to notice that my clothes that I came with, were gone from the booth. Not only that, even my purse was stolen! I was left with nothing but my underwear and the clothes I brought in to try out, I didn't know what to do so I put on a dress I had brought in with me and headed out to the cashier. I explained my dilemma to the cashier, and asked if she could help me out by giving me some clothes, they were okay with it, but I should have known not to get my hopes up, because she next asked me to pay for it: "Er, I... I don't have any money..." I stammered, knowing where this would lead me yet again. "Well, I'm sorry then, I'll have to take the clothes back." the cashier sighed, putting her hand out. "Can I at least go back to the changing room?" I pleaded, falsely looking to preserve any amount of modesty, in reality I was more than willing to strip, but I wanted to put on a show of resistance just in case. "Why? You're going to walk out of here looking the same." the cashier shook her head and eyed me suspiciously, it seemed that I made her distrust me, and so I, defeated, began to take the dress off in the middle of the store, where everyone could see me. It would probably be a good time to mention that, as a surprise for Gary at the end of the day, I had worn a special set of lingerie, so here I was in public showing off the lingerie I intended for my boyfriend's eyes only. Naturally, people were staring and laughing at my embarrassment, I ran out of the store looking for Gary, only to run into him right outside the store, he laughed as he saw my appearance and wasted no time squeezing my butt. He suggested we go to the security booth and look for my things there, all while toying with my body, he wouldn't let me rush or cover up until we got there, meaning I was seen by who knows how many people getting groped by Gary, they didn't do or say anything (beyond the occasional laugh or whisper), but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. The security guard was amused, but didn't give us any trouble, when we searched the lost and found, we found my purse, money intact and everything, which was both comforting and strange, not my dress though, because I guess the curse didn't want me dressed yet. The guard made sure to warn me about running around in such an indecent state, and that he might detain me if I don't fix it, but the way he said almost made it sound like a lewd joke as opposed to a serious threat, either way we decided to go back up to the mall to buy some clothes. We went back up to the mall and once again I had to endure the laughs and stares of everyone as we looked for the same store as before to get me something to wear. Once inside, I grabbed anything that I could get my hands on from before and immediately bought it, and as soon as the cashier rang my purchase up I rushed to the changing booth, as I took a deep breath of relief, Gary walked in on me. In my shock, I was taken by surprise when he began kissing me deeply, telling me how sexy I looked in the lingerie, I was melting in his arms as he began to undress me, and I was naked and making out with him before I knew it. Gary snapped me out of my rapture as he stepped away, leaving me a little horny. "I'll leave you to pick out something to wear and we'll pick this up later." He said,but just as he was stepping out, I noticed that my purse, the clothes I bought AND my underwear were now missing. I stopped Gary from leaving and told him about my missing items, he peaked out and told me there was nothing outside, I did note that Gary didn't have my things, so it couldn't have been him, I was wondering if someone recognized me and was playing a prank on me, but I hadn't seen anyone familiar. Once again I had to step out to the cashier with Gary, this time I was completely naked! We tried to tell the cashier, this time it was a different lady from the one before, about the situation, but just like the other one she was unsympathetic to what had happened, she rolled her eyes and told us that she was informed about someone trying to scam them out of clothes by pretending to have things stolen from them. "I wasn't pretending! I really did get things stolen from me!" I protested, feeling frustrated about the mistrust. "Twice? Besides, you said earlier you had your purse stolen, but I saw you walk in with it, I bet you have it stashed here somewhere!" the cashier retorted angrily, and I was at the verge of tears. "Come on lady, we don't care what it is, just give her something to wear, I'll pay for it." Gary tried pleading with the cashier, but I knew he hadn't gotten paid yet this month, so I doubted he had much on him. The irritated cashier sighed as she looked at me, I guess she was starting to feel guilty watching me stand here naked and about to have a breakdown in the middle of the store, that or she wanted to avoid making a scene. "Fine, you can have some of our off-season stock, but you have to put it on right here in front of me and leave immediately." the cashier left for a bit, and came back with what I can only describe as one of the skimpiest micro bikinis I have ever seen, the top was barely two pieces of cloth sown to a few strings that were tied together, the bottom was even less. And so I got dressed as hastily as possible before getting escorted out of the store again, only difference was that I was nearly naked this time around. It was only when we were outside that I noticed, on top of the bikini being so tiny, it was so thin it was practically see through, the top would constantly shift off my nipples, and everyone in the mall might as well have seen me naked, and I wish that was the end of it As we were walking through the mall amidst the leers and laughs, hoping to get out of there and cut my losses after this humiliating ordeal, I felt a tug against my flimsy bottoms, and was surprised to see a girl running away with it in hand. I looked down at my now bare hips and crotch, still shocked, then looked back up to see Gary running after the thief, and within a few seconds, someone took my arms behind my back and tied them together, I looked down to see myself completely naked, my top gone as well. I felt blood rush to my ears, people around me chattering busily as they watched on without anyone offering to help, and at the same time I felt my nipples were aching painfully, some juices began trickling down my legs, somehow, in this situation. I found myself instantly horny. "I knew it was 'streaker Sarah' the moment you walked in!" I recognized the voice, it was the first cashier who forced me to strip, I felt her hands pinch one of my nipples and let out a moan against my will "I told my friend that we could play a little prank on you." I turned my head back only to see the second cashier in front of me, she stuffed something in my mouth, it was my stolen bottoms! The two girls began playing with my body, squeezing my breasts, twisting my nipples and fingering my pussy, I had been stripped so easily by two strangers and was now being paraded in front of a crowded mall, nobody bothered to help me, in fact, many people took out their phones and began recording, I was already a named celebrity and this was business as usual to everyone in town. The thought of anyone being able to strip me without suffering consequences essentially flipped a switch in my brain, and I came on the spot, orgasming for the cheering crowd as my juices squirted out as I stood there in the middle of the mall. I wasn't allowed to rest as the girls smacked my ass and pushed me into the crowd, hands began crawling all over my body, my breasts continued to be groped, my nipples pinched and flicked, my ass spanked and squeezed and my pussy fingered even more. Just as I was about to have a second orgasm, Gary returns after his futile chase, only to see me in my humiliating state, he laughs and jokes about how he can't leave me alone. However, instead of helping me, Gary took out his cell phone, told me to say cheese and hit record just as I had my second (but not last) orgasm of the day. I was then paraded around the mall as the two girls proceeded to invite every other mall goer to molest and play with my body like I was public property, I wondered if the security guard from earlier would swoop in and put me out of my "misery", only to notice him in the crowd as he approached... and began squeezing my breasts. My humiliation was complete, I had no escape, I was now the town exhibitionist, my boyfriend was content taking pictures of me as I had yet another orgasm in public. I have to say, I didn't mind that much either. Gary finally took me home after the ladies gave him my clothes and purse back, not to me though, I had to walk back to the car naked as everyone watched me stumble back. We reached the apartment building, and Gary told me that if I get stripped without him around not to feel too guilty about what I'm made to do, as long as I was safe. I didn't know how to feel about that, it was nice knowing he cared about my well being, but I just had to roll my eyes when he told me to try my best to get him a video of whatever happens. That said, I did feel a little tingle thinking about what would happen to me.

Stiles meets Cora at the end of year party. There’s too much alcohol and he is on top of the world with the whole of summer looming ahead of him. She’s pretty enough, and she’s funny and smart and she’s only in town until the end of summer. She’s not looking for anything serious – just a summer romance with a cute boy, maybe? – and Stiles thinks that maybe that’s good enough for him. They meet up again the next day at the only cafe in Beacon Hills, this time without the haze of vodka, and Stiles still likes her well enough. She’s not Lydia by any standards, is something grey and pale in comparison, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe after all the drama he’s had to deal with later he needs someone a little less fiery. Cora ticks all the right boxes and says all the right things at all the right times, and by the end of the first week Stiles thinks maybe he could love her for it, one day. Because Cora is easy and she doesn’t push him or ask questions. And even though she’ll be going off to college in September and he’ll still be here in Beacon Hills for one last year of school, he doesn’t mind. Because six weeks isn’t long enough to fall in love with someone, is it, so it’s not like he’ll end up getting too attached. * At the beginning of the second week of summer, Cora invites Stiles over to her place to stay the night, and Stiles doesn’t really understand it but he says yes anyway. They watch a chick-flick tucked up in her bed, and when they have sex for the first time it’s gentle and it’s nice enough and it’s easy. She curls her slight frame up around him afterwards and falls asleep, dark hair fanned out across the pillow. Stiles thinks she looks like an angel, sweet and soft. He thinks that maybe an angel isn’t quite what he’s looking for, though. Stiles can’t fall asleep as easily as she can. He lies there next to her for a while, listening to her breathing, but then he gets fidgety and decides to go down and get a glass of water from the kitchen. He tiptoes down the stairs in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, careful not to wake her.  The kitchen light is already on. Stiles is sure that Cora turned it off. There’s a man in there when Stiles walks through the door. He’s tall, much taller than Stiles. He turns around at the sound of his footsteps, and Stiles’ breath catches in his throat. He has the same dark hair as his sister, except short and styled upwards and a darker shade of ebony. His lips are pink and set in a thin line, and his skin is alabaster. He’s wearing nothing but a black towel, slung low off of his hips. He’s…he’s so fucking broad, is the thing. Stiles doesn’t think he’s seen anything like it before, the definition of his muscles and his abs and the size of his arms. Jackson is the most built guy he knows, and he doesn't even come close to this dude. He’s beautiful, Stiles thinks, but he quickly swallows the thought down. “Hi,” the man says, looking Stiles up and down and then turning back around again. Stiles is momentarily distracted by all the muscles in his back that flex when he moves. “Sorry, dude,” he manages to say then. “I didn’t realise anyone else was here. I thought-” “-that Cora owned a three bed apartment?” he suggests flatly. “She’s seventeen.” “Right,” Stiles says.  The guy gives him a look as he reaches up to pull a bowl out of the cupboard behind him. The towel around his waist shifts slightly; dips to show off the shape of his perfectly sculptured V, the smooth expanse of his hips and the smattering of dark hair there disappearing down beneath the towel.  Stiles clears his throat. “And who are you, exactly?” He looks up and fixes his green eyes on him in mild surprise. “She didn’t tell you?” “No,” he frowns. “She doesn’t really tell me much at all, actually.” He takes a seat at the kitchen table, resting his endless bare legs up onto the top. “That sounds like Cora,” he says mildly. “I’m Derek, then. Her brother, part-time guardian and full-time pain in the ass. And you are?” “Stiles,” he says, shaking his hand. “Her…well. Sort of friend, I guess.” “Not for much longer, pal.” “Sorry?” “She won’t keep you around,” Derek shrugs. “Cora likes a challenge. She’s an adrenaline junkie, but you don’t make her scream.” Stiles just stares at him. “Pardon?” “When you fuck her,” he says, all matter-of-fact. “You don’t make her scream. She’s had boyfriends that make the whole apartment shake, but not you.” “Oh,” Stiles says weakly. “Paper walls,” Derek shrugs again. He takes a slow mouthful of cereal. “…not saying she didn’t enjoy it, pal. I guess girls like a little bit of gentle love-making from time to time.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm and Stiles thinks the guy might be a right little shit, actually, beautiful face and body aside. Still, Stiles forces a smile. “I guess they do.” “Nothing beats a good fucking though,” he says then. “Having someone wreck you and tear you apart and fuck you up. That’s my kind of sex.” Stiles feels a little hot under the collar. He should leave, he should go back up to Cora, but he can’t tear his eyes off of the man in front of him. There’s something about him that makes Stiles’ skin prickle, makes his pulse quicken. “That’s, uh…that’s good to know,” he says. “Yeah,” Derek, says. Their eyes meet across the room, green on brown, and their gazes linger a little too long. Stiles swallows hard, and Derek’s tongue darts out to wet his lips – Stiles can’t help but feel that there’s something predatory about it. “Yeah, it is.” * After that Stiles finds any excuse he can to spend time at the Hale apartment. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling that settles deep into his bones when Derek isn’t there, sprawled across the sofa or leaning against one of the metal beams stretching from floor to ceiling. He is there mostly, though. Stiles starts noticing all sorts of little things about him, even when they don’t usually actually talk to each other; the way he runs his fingers through his hair, teasing it upwards into it’s usual quiff, the way he hardly ever wears clothes around the apartment, the way his voice is especially raspy first thing in the morning. Stiles doesn’t know why, but he likes knowing all these little things. He wants to learn more, wants to pick them up one by one over time and catalogue them in his mind in the forbidden little special corner reserved just for Derek Hale. Cora doesn’t notice. She doesn’t notice the way Stiles always suggests they watch tv in the living room instead of in her bedroom. She doesn’t notice the way he sometimes catches himself just staring at her brother from across the room. She doesn’t notice the way that most of the time when he tumbles over the edge of his orgasm he has the image of someone else burnt into his mind, and she definitely doesn’t notice the way he has to clamp his mouth shut to stop him crying out the wrong name. Cora doesn’t notice, and Cora continues to be nice and sweet and funny and smart and easy, and so Stiles doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t tell her that for some ungodly reason he finds her brother obscenely attractive and he certainly doesn’t tell her all the things he’d like to do to him if he only had the guts. Stiles starts dreaming of Derek at night. Stiles hasn’t had a wet dream in almost seven years, until he meets Derek. Now, more often than not, Stiles jolts upright in the middle of the night with sticky sheets, gasping at the air, someone else’s green eyes still seared into the backs of his eyelids. * At the end of the second week, Cora goes on a trip out of state.  She’s visiting a friend of hers who moved out there on a gap year. She’s almost apologetic to Stiles when she tells him, and that makes him feel as if he should’ve answered with something a little more distraught than a shrug – because they are together, after all, and he shouldn’t be looking forward to her leaving town. Especially not so that he can spend time with her older brother. She leaves on the Friday morning. He turns up outside her apartment early Saturday evening with a dish in his hand – because Cora had once mentioned how much the Hale’s loved cherry pie and he couldn’t resist spending the entire afternoon perfecting one. Derek opens the door. Just the sight of him makes something inside of Stiles’ flip – makes it twist and churn and flutter. Makes him feel alive. “Hi,” he says brightly, pasting on a smile. “Is Cora in?” “She’s not here,” Derek says slowly. Always slow, always sexy, always such a huge fucking temptation. He studies Stiles’ face with dark eyes. “She’s out of town.” “Really?” Stiles says, his eyes wide with perfectly honed mock-surprise. “What’s she doing there?” “Visiting a friend,” he frowns. He opens the door slightly and Stiles catches sight of some skin. A lot of skin, actually, even more so than last time – and jesus fucking christ this guy is going to be the death of him if he keeps insisting on not wearing clothes around the house. “She didn’t tell you? She’s known about it for months.” “Not that I remember,” Stiles lies smoothly. He lets out a long, weary sigh. “Shit, I feel like a right dick now. I thought we were going to have a nice night in. I baked a pie and everything.” The door opens a fraction more. “A pie? What flavour?” “…cherry?” he says hopefully. Derek opens the door fully in one swift movement, and Stiles feels a rush of relief. “Well we shouldn’t let a good pie go to waste,” he says briskly. “I suppose I can entertain you for a while.” They go into the living room. Derek sets them up on the bigger of the two sofas, with a tray for the pie and a spoon each. He switches on the television and they just sit there, side by side, each of them dipping into the dessert silently as they watch the screen. Or, rather, while Derek watches the screen. Because Stiles’ whole body is thrumming, alive and wired with energy. Because Derek has never been this close, and he is only wearing a pair of patterned board shorts and he looks so fucking good. So Stiles watches Derek instead, and only misses his mouth once with the spoon when he gets particularly distracted by the way Derek swallows down his pudding, Adams Apple bobbing obscenely. They finish the pie, and the programme on the television draws to an end. Stiles doesn’t remember what it was, but Derek sighs a lot and starts flicking through the programmes trying to find something else to replace is with. “Saturday night tv is shit,” Derek complains eventually, switching the box off completely. “No wonder I never watch it.” “No?” Stiles says. “What do you do instead?” The older boy runs a hand through his curls and furrows his eyebrows a little, and it shouldn’t make his heart stutter but it does anyway. “Well, Saturday night is date night,” he shrugs.  Stiles processes the information, tries not to picture him out on a date with a hot girl. “You don’t…you haven’t got anyone? For date night, I mean?” “Like who?” Derek asks, turning on the sofa so that they’re face to face. “Like…I don’t know. Like a girlfriend, maybe?” He looks like he wants to laugh. Stiles wants to laugh too, deep in the pit of his stomach. He can feel it bubbling up, just beneath the surface, hysterical and ready to erupt – and it’s Derek that does this to him, Derek that makes him feel so unstable. “Stiles, I haven’t had a girlfriend since I was eleven.” “Oh,” Stiles says. “No boyfriend, though,” he hums. “Not at the moment. Not for tonight.” “Oh,” Stiles says again, his voice thick. “I’m sorry.” “No you’re not.” And Derek is looking at him, studying him, watching him, his green eyes fixed so resolutely on him that he can feel his skin prickling underneath his scrutiny. And it’s intense – everything about Derek fucking Hale is intense.  “No,” Stiles mutters finally. Because he’s the best liar he knows, but right here, right now, he can’t do it for shit. “Have you ever been with another guy, Stiles?” Derek asks, his head tilted to one side, his eyes focused.  “No,” Stiles squeaks. But what he really means is I never wanted to before you. “You should,” Derek says thoughtfully. “It’s good, Stiles. So much better than a girl. So much more. Because I’ve tried both, you know? Fucked both, been fucked by both. And girls are okay but they’re not the best. Boys are best. You haven’t lived until you’ve been properly fucked by a boy.” Stiles let out a little noise. “R-Really?” “Really,” Derek nods. “Boys just know what other boys like. They know where to put their hands, and what to do with them. And their hands are so big, Stiles. So much bigger. They can do so much more. I’ve never met a girl who has me begging for it as much as a boy could. Boys really make me beg, Stiles. Down on my hands and knees, begging. I’d do anything for a boy. Boys are hot, aren’t they? Don’t you think?” Stiles just looks at him, his hands trembling and his breathing irregular, and swallows hard. “Yeah,” Derek says. “Thought so.” He leans forward on the sofa so that his mouth is inches from Stiles’, his breath light across his lips. “I could fuck you so good, Stiles,” he murmurs. “I could get you so worked up. I could have you underneath me, begging me, chanting my name.” Stiles can’t move, can’t make a single noise because his voice is so dry with longing. Derek shifts closer, runs his hand gentle up Stiles’ thigh. And Stiles should move, Stiles should say something, Stiles should push him away because he knows that Derek is teasing, he knows that Derek is mocking him. But he can’t.  The older boy’s hand inches closer to Stiles’ crotch, and then his palm is ghosting across Stiles’ growing bulge. Stiles inhales sharply and tries desperately not to explode. “Hmm. A straight boy that likes men, huh?” Derek drawls, his voice saccharine. He gives Stiles’ thigh a squeeze and then sits back on the sofa again, putting distance between them. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest of contradictions?” And yeah, Stiles is sort of royally fucked. * Stiles can’t sleep. He tries, at first. He tosses and turns in his bed but his mind keeps wandering back to Derek, to all the things he said and the way he looked and the way he smelt and the stupid little smile he does when he lets his guard down and Stiles is too wired to sleep because everything is Derek and he doesn’t know how to stop it – doesn’t know if even wants to. He doesn’t know why he goes back over there. Or, rather, he does know why – he just can’t believe he actually follows through with it. Maybe it’s because the thought of Derek won’t stop pulsing through his veins and maybe, just maybe, he can have this one dirty little secret. It’s dark out and Beacon Hills is still and his fingers drum impatiently against the steering wheel of his jeep as he drives. He pulls up into one of the empty parking spaces outside the building a few minutes later. He pulls himself together before he climbs out, pulling at the bottom of his jumper and ruffling up his hair with his fingertips. He knocks on the front door, once, twice, three times. It takes a moment for Derek to answer, and in those seconds Stiles feels like he might just die. But then the door is being pulled open and Derek is right there in front of him – and it’s only been an hour or two since he left but Stiles has almost missed him, and now that he’s here again everything around him has come back into focus, sharp and clear and beautiful. “Stiles,” he says, clearly surprised. He’s changed out of his board shorts and now all he’s wearing is a pair of tight boxer-briefs, ready for bed. “Did you forget something?” “Sort of,” Stiles mumbles. He steps forward onto the doorstep and looks up at the older boy through his eyelashes, his hands shaking and his heart pounding. “It’s, er…it’s about that whole fucking-me-so-good thing? Was that a promise, or…?” Realisation dawns across Derek’s face, lighting up his green eyes. Stiles half expects him to tease him again and torment him further, but he doesn’t. He just gives him a filthy smirk and pulls Stiles forward into the house by the front of his shirt, and slams the front door shut after them. * Being with Cora is easy, because Cora is sweet and nice and smart and funny in equal measures, but being with Derek is breath-taking. Derek is a little wild and rough around the edges, and he’s often sharp and regularly unpredictable and he’s always, always exciting  - and he turns out to be more of a handful than Stiles could ever have predicted.  They see each other every day that Cora is away. Mainly at night, but sometimes during the day too. They just fuck, mostly. Derek takes him apart piece by piece and he wrecks him and fucks him up and he has Stiles chanting his name just like he promised like it’s a fucking mantra, and Stiles loves it.  Because Stiles always shied away from excitement, like he shied away from Lydia, and he’s always chosen the easy route, like he chose Cora. Derek isn’t easy, though, but Stiles soon realises that he’s everything he never knew he wanted instead.  Each time they meet, they stay together a little longer. Hurried goodbyes turn into pillow talk, which soon stretches out into real conversation. Derek and Cora are so similar that it actually hurts, sometimes, except everything with Derek is emphasised and amplified until the proportions are so, so out of touch. So he’s a handful, and sometimes he makes Stiles frown and sometimes he makes Stiles cry with laughter but he always makes Stiles happy so he’s more than worth the effort it takes to keep up with him. Stiles realises it’s gotten out of hand somewhere in the middle of the fourth week of summer. He realises it when Derek mentions another boy and jealousy shoots through him, white hot and burning. He realises it when he finds he’s memorised the shape and shade of the other boy’s lips. It’s sort of a sinking feeling, that realisation that he’s started falling when it was only ever supposed to be a crush. Because there is just two weeks of summer left before he has to go back to school and that’s not long enough but it’s also too much at the same time, so Stiles doesn’t think about it.  * The night before Cora comes home to Beacon Hills, Derek sleeps at Stiles’ house. He doesn’t mean to, but it happens anyway. The Sheriff is working the late shift so they don’t worry about him, and now it’s late, and they’ve spent the best part of four hours having mind-blowing sex and aggressively battling each other at cards. Stiles shouldn’t find it so endearing when Derek snorts with laughter or throws his hand down in a huff, but he does. Now the older boy is curled up in Stiles’ double bed, his hair dark against the pillow. His thick eyebrows are furrowed in sleep, his lips parted, and Stiles thinks that maybe he should look like an angel because he’s so goddamn beautiful, but he doesn’t. He looks like the devil, tempting and volatile and dangerously attractive, and somehow that is a million times better. Mainly, though, Stiles just thinks he looks perfect – and when Derek rolls over in his sleep and reaches for his hand, Stiles holds him back twice as tight. * Cora comes back.  She’s caught a bit of a tan from the good weather and she looks really happy and healthy and pretty, but Stiles can’t look at her the same. Her hands are the wrong size in his, her hair too long, her lips too full, her body too curvy. Stiles feels so guilty that it makes him feel sick. He feels guilty and dirty and wrong, but that’s wrong in itself because being with Derek could never be anything other than very very right. Before, being with Cora was easy. Now it is difficult, so so difficult. Now every second is a lie and every second is Stiles wishing he were somewhere else. Wishing he were with Derek.  The first time she invites him round, he goes – but only because he knows Derek isn’t in. it’s not that he doesn’t want to see him, exactly – except it is. He wants to see him and he doesn’t want to see him in equal parts. He doesn’t know what it is; all he knows is that when Derek is around, it’s easier to catch his breath. The second time she invites him round, he refuses, because he knows Derek is there doing some reading for work. So she comes round to his house instead, and they watch a film and kiss a little and the whole time Stiles thinks of someone else. Derek turns up at the house not even half an hour after his sister leaves. “You smell like her,” is the first thing he says, and it almost sounds like an accusation. Stiles sniffs at the collar of his t-shirt, and sure enough Cora has left her mark there, sweet and floral. Stiles doesn’t want sweet and floral. Stiles wants musk and spice and man. “She just left,” Stiles says. Derek steps over the threshold and into Stiles’ house, crowding him. Stiles thinks that maybe that’s the way it’s always been since the first time they met four weeks ago – enveloped and surrounded and swallowed whole by everything that is distinctively Derek. “You haven’t been round.” “I know,” Stiles whispers. And he promised himself he wouldn’t do this, that he wouldn’t do this to Cora, but he can’t help the way his pulse quickens or his heart stutters in his chest, because it’s Derek and he has become so much in so little time and Stiles still hasn’t gotten his head around it, because it was only ever supposed to be one good fuck. Derek reaches out, brushes his fingertips against the skin of Stiles’ arm; alabaster against alabaster, like two sides of the same coin. “She doesn’t have to know, Stiles. We can…we can keep this between us.” Stiles swallows hard. Because he wants this, he wants to believe this, but he can’t. He can’t keep on keeping all these secrets. “I can’t lie, Derek. Not to your sister.” “Because she’s a girl?” “Because she’s my girlfriend. And you’re just…” Derek freezes. “Just what?” “You’re just you and I’m just me and we were just having a good time, weren’t we?” Stiles says. Even though it’s a lie. Even though he thinks maybe he loved Derek right from the very start. Except that’s just his problem, isn’t it? Falling in love with people who don’t have the capacity to love him back. Stiles always loved faster, harder, more – and that wasn’t Derek’s fault in the slightest but it stung all the same. “You were just showing me how it could be, weren’t you? With a boy. You were just showing me.” “…yeah,” Derek says eventually, frowning a little. “Yeah, obviously.  But…that’s it? Fun over?” “I can’t see you both,” Stiles says weakly. “No,” he says. He scratches the back of his head, ruffles his hair, looks back at Stiles with blank eyes. “I guess not.” “I’m sorry,” Stiles mumbles, but what he really wants to say is I’m sorry, I would chose you if I could, I think I might just love you, but that’s far too much. “Why? It was just fucking, pal. Don’t overthink it.” Stiles feels his stomach sinking down, down. Because it was never just fucking, not for him. Not even at the beginning. “Right.” Derek’s face softens. “You’ve got my number.” Stiles nods glumly. Derek steps forwards, hesitates, and then raises his arms to cup Stiles’ face in his huge hands. He ducks his head until his lips are pressed against Stiles’ own, and it’s brief and chaste and gentle and then Derek is gone without another word, disappearing off down the path and into the darkness. Stiles brushes his mouth with his fingertips, and his breath catches in his throat as he realises that after all this time, that was their very first kiss. And if he didn’t know it before, he knows for certain now that he’s so absolutely and completely fucked that he doesn’t even know where to start. * Stiles calls Derek before the fifth week of summer is even up. He hasn’t said a word to Cora, but everything is so out of focus, everything has shifted and changed and blurred and if Stiles doesn’t get the clarity that Derek brings soon he is going to explode. Derek doesn’t ask questions. He turns up on the doorstep ten minutes later and leads Stiles up the stairs to his room. He fucks Stiles into the mattress as good as always, but this time he leaves trails of kisses in his wake. This time, instead of just a good fuck, it feels something like sex. Derek doesn’t say anything about the fact that Stiles’ eyes are damp after, even if he can still see the tears shining there. Stiles is eternally grateful, because he wouldn’t know how to talk about it. Wouldn’t know how to put all that he was feeling into words. Wouldn’t know how to tell him how much it scared him to feel this much, to fall so hard. Derek doesn’t say a word. He just pulls Stiles closer underneath the covers and curls himself around him, curls until they are an intrinsic tangle of limbs, and then holds him tight. * Stiles wakes up on the first morning of the last week of summer with a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. One more week, and then all this will be over. Cora will be at university and he will be at school and his summer will have faded away as nothing more than a distant memory. That day he sees both of them. Cora first, round at her apartment. Derek’s there, Stiles knows it, but they don’t cross paths. Cora talks excitedly about moving on with her life and leaving Beacon Hills. Stiles really, really wishes that he cared. He wishes he’d fallen in love with her this summer, instead of her brother. He wishes it was her who filled every one of his thoughts, because that would be easy. But he didn’t and so it’s not and so when he kisses her goodbye as he leaves, he’s careful to just miss the edge of her mouth. “I can taste her,” Derek says later that night. “You can’t,” Stiles argues. Derek just looks at him, a frown tugging at his lips. Stiles lets out a soft sigh and reaches out to pull him closer, to kiss him long and hard and thorough until they are both panting and rutting against each other needily. “Better?” he whispers, his forehead pressed against the older boys, brown eyes looking imploringly into green. Derek just nods and leans forward to steal another kiss. * They don’t have sex that night. They kiss a whole lot, though, and Stiles thinks that he might just prefer that. Derek asks to say. Stiles says yes. They curl up in Stiles’ bed and speak in murmured conversation until the sun starts to rise above the town outside the window. “Are you still sleeping with her?” Derek asks, his voice a whisper, on the very edge of sleep. “No!” Stiles whispers back, his face flushing. “No, I…I couldn’t. I can’t. I only think of you.” Derek doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Stiles lies there frozen, his thoughts swirling at a hundred miles an hour. But then Derek reaches over and takes Stiles’ hand in his own beneath the sheets, pulls him close, buries his face into Stiles’ chest. “Good,” he whispers. “That’s good.” * Derek sees Stiles kissing her. It’s the briefest of kisses, just a press of lips on lips, but Derek sees it. Later, when the three of them are in the kitchen, Derek tries to talk to Stiles. Stiles shoots him a look and nods at Cora and then he suggests out loud that the two of them go into her room to watch a film. They leave. Derek is alone. Derek is furious. He doesn’t understand why. He’s not mad at Stiles and he’s not mad at Cora and he’s not really even mad at himself for getting into the situation in the first place. He’s just mad, and it simmers under the surface for the rest of the week. He doesn’t text Stiles back, doesn’t answer his calls, doesn’t see him. And it almost kills him, how much he misses him. That’s when Derek realises how deep he’s fallen. And it was supposed to be one good fuck, it was only ever supposed to be one good fuck, but Stiles has turned out to be so much more. It’s only been six weeks, but it feels more like a lifetime. Derek has to see him. It’s pouring with rain and the air is heavy with a summer storm and the sky keeps flashing lilac with lightening, but still Derek goes. He runs the whole way, doesn’t stop until he’s at Stiles’ door.  “Derek?” Stiles frowns when he opens it up. “What the fu-” Derek cuts him off with a kiss, deep and rough and possessive. Derek claims him. Derek claims all of him and he clutches him so tight. He never wants to let him go. “What’s wrong, Derek?” Stiles says when they finally break apart. “Where have you been? I’ve missed you.” “I’ve missed you too,” he says. “But I can’t carry on like this.” “Like what, Derek?” “This. You avoiding me in front of her. You kissing her instead of me. I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, Stiles,” Derek says, his voice choked. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I can’t share you, for fucks sake. I want all of you. I want you to be mine.” “I always have been,” Stiles tells him, fast and firm and reassuring. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, can’t believe that maybe for once someone fell just as hard and fast as he did. His heart soars, up, up , up. “Always will be too, if you’ll let me.” “Please,” Derek begs. Stiles wraps his arms around him and holds him close, pulls him out of the rain and kisses his hair until he stops shaking. * Cora isn’t surprised when Stiles turns up on the doorstep the next morning and tells her that he thinks she’s lovely but that he has to end things for her own sake. “It was just for the summer anyway,” she shrugs, and he’s never been more grateful of how sweet and smart and funny and easy she is. “But I’m still glad I met you.” Stiles is glad he met her too. More glad than she’ll ever know. * Summer draws to an end.  Stiles and Derek decide to keep whatever it is they have under wraps until Cora has left for college. Then there will be no more sneaking and no more hiding. It’s a Saturday when she finally goes. She looks pretty and happy and ready to move on and start the new chapter of her life. She doesn’t even blink when Stiles comes over to wave her off and stands just a little too close to her brother. Maybe she knew all along. Stiles certainly did. The two of them stand there in the middle of the road, waving at her in the wing mirror until her car is out of sight. They carry on standing there even when she’s gone, even when it’s finally just the two of them. Stiles feels something settle inside him. He doesn’t know what will happen now, or how long this fire for Derek inside his chest will keep on burning for. All he knows that he fell in love with the unexpected. He has Derek and Derek has him and they had their summer – and Stiles hopes with everything he has that they will have many more summers to come.  “She’s nice,” Stiles says eventually. The sky is still impossibly brown and the sun is still impossibly bright and Stiles is finally ready for what comes next. “Cora is really, really nice.” “She is,” Derek nods. And there’s so much more he wants to say, so many words right on the tip of his tongue, like I want you and I need you and I love you and please let me keep you. “But she’s not you,” he adds. “She’s not me,” Derek agrees, and his hand finds Stiles’ and holds it tight.

Peter was terrified. The encounter with Frank shook him to his core and he decided to dial things back with Cynthia. He didn't outright tell her why, but instead made up vague excuses as to why he couldn't meet. He knew this wasn't a long term solution. If he didn't disclose his fears to Cynthia, he would run the risk of hurting her and losing her forever. He decided to spend more time with Charlie and Kevin. They just assumed things between him and Amanda had fizzled out again. "How's Cynthia doing these days?" Charlie asked before he took a swing of his golf club. The three of them were lined up at the far end of the driving range. A bottle of Jameson sat on a small table with three red Solo cups. "What?" Peter asked, caught off guard. "I'm talking to Kevin. I wanna know how that bodacious babe is doing these days," Charlie laughed. "Dude. Fuck off. Ok? Just fuck off," Kevin said as he took a shot of Jameson. "I'll fuck off... to your house," Charlie said again. This time Kevin raised his golf club as if he was going to slam it down on Charlie's head. He jokingly held up his hands to protect himself. "You still think your old man is sleeping around?" Charlie asked, this time being serious. "When's he not?" Kevin responded. "That's bullshit," Peter said. "If I were your stepmom, I'd just leave him." "Yeah, well... she doesn't," Kevin grumpily muttered. The boys were well versed in Frank's apparent adulterous activities away on business. Just a few years prior, a fling with a flight attendant across the country threatened their marriage, but they worked things out privately. Cynthia and Frank were rarely seen together as he traveled a lot and she didn't really seem to mind much. "I wouldn't wanna be the guy who steps in on their marriage," Charlie said, to no one in particular. "Your Dad is one bad motherfucker." "Yeah, well. Fuck him is what I say," Kevin declared before launching a golf ball into the stratosphere. "I'm out, guys," Kevin said. "Goin' to Amy's." "Pound town?" Charlie asked. "Naw she's on her period. Maybe a blowie," Kevin responded with a smile. "Maybe a couple blowies," he laughed. Charlie responded by miming a blowjob and pretending to do a gag. "Ugh it's so big, I can't get it all down my throat!" he said in a high-pitched voice. Everyone cracked up laughing as Kevin took off. Charlie and Peter had a few more shots, hit a bunch of balls and ultimately called it a night an hour or so later. "Dude," Charlie said as they walked towards the parking lot. "Kevin's stepmom is seriously so fucking hot. I never really noticed it until recently. I mean, I know we all used to joke about her tits when we were younger, but she is legit doing it for me these days, bro." Peter nodded, while looking down as they walked. He pictured Cynthia's mouth wrapped around his cock. He vividly remembered the feeling of her tight pussy pulsing on him as she came. He pictured her perfect body being showered in thick white ropes from his spasming penis. "Yeah dude," he agreed. "She's pretty hot." Peter checked his phone in the car and, sure enough, Cynthia had texted him several times. She also called him, something she never did. Peter decided to call her back. He was feeling really charged up and pondered setting up an impromptu meet. Besides, it had been a while since they got together. "Hey," he said cheerfully. But the voice on the other end was not so cheerful. "Peter, I need you to come over." "What's wrong?" "Can you come by the house?" she said in a concerned voice. Something was not right. "Yes, I can. But you need to tell me what's wrong. Are you in danger?" "I'm not in danger. But we need to talk." "Ok?" "I'll see you soon," she said softly before hanging up. Peter was dumbstruck. As he frantically drove over to her house, he imagined what he'd do if Frank were to attack him. He contemplated turning around, but Cynthia's voice made it seem serious. He couldn't leave her with him in case Frank was violent. Peter had never been in such a situation before and didn't truly have a good plan. He didn't even really know what he was walking into, but it certainly wasn't good. He slowly and carefully approached the front door of the house. The lights were on. He tried to peer inside and get a glimpse of what was happening before entering. The sun had just set so it started to get dark. He couldn't see anything. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could do so. "Hi honey," Cynthia said as she stood in the doorway. She reached out and gently grazed Peter's cheek with her hand. "Hi handsome," she said. "Are you ok?" he asked, concerned as he stepped inside. "I'm fine. It's ok," she said quietly. Peter suspected she didn't want to be heard. "Come with me," she said as she led him through the house towards the kitchen. She poured a glass of wine for both of them. Peter tentatively took a sip. "Cynthia, you're scaring me," he said. "You're acting strange." "I'm going to be straight with you, Peter. He knows. He knows everything." Peter's stomach dropped. His worst nightmare was confirmed. His first instinct was to run out of the house away from her and never see her again. His second, more leveled instinct was to stay... and fight. "What?" he asked, stunned. "He told me he knows about us. He saw us in the park. He's seen your car parked around the corner. He's no dummy, Peter." Peter took another sip, more generous this time. He leaned on the kitchen island with both hands, staring at the granite. He remained silent. "It's not what you think. He's not mad, believe me. He's hurt more than anything," she said. "Peter, look at me." He looked up. "I had a sense this would happen. You probably did too." He solemnly nodded. It was true. There was no way their fling was going to go the distance undetected. Something had to give. Now it was time to pay the price. "Listen, he's coming home any minute. But I don't want you to run. I want to confront the situation together. I promise he's not angry or upset." "He's not angry?! How can that be? He knows I'm fucking you regularly!" Peter began to become agitated. He didn't believe Cynthia. He didn't want to stick around for when Frank came home. Nothing about that scenario seemed appealing to him. "Can you please just stay by my side, Peter? I adore you. I adore him too. I want to be able to work through this together." A car door slammed outside. It was time. Peter suddenly looked towards the window in a panic. "He's here?" Cynthia nodded. "Please just stay here. Follow my lead, ok?" Peter's heart nearly jumped out his body as he heard the door open. What on Earth was he about to get into? This was not how he envisioned his fling with a married woman would end. Footsteps came closer and closer towards the kitchen. Cynthia stared at the doorway to the hallway waiting for him to emerge. "Hey," a familiar voice called out. It was Kevin. "What's happening, guys?" he asked before he hugged Cynthia and nodded towards Peter. He poured himself a glass of wine. "Hey man," Peter said. He felt relieved it was Kevin instead of Frank. Perhaps he could plan an escape now instead of confronting Frank with Cynthia. "I told him," Cynthia said. "I told him everything." Peter's mouth dropped. Cynthia hugged Kevin again. "I'm so sorry sweetie," she said. Kevin didn't say a word. He gulped down another sip. "Does he know?" he asked. Cynthia shook her head. "Why don't we go into the living room, shall we?" "Guys, what the hell is going on?" Peter asked. Kevin walked over and patted him on the back. "Just follow me, bud. We have a lot to discuss." ----------------------------------------------- What happened next, Peter could have never even imagined. Over several glasses of wine in the living room, Cynthia and Kevin divulged their nearly two year long relationship, unbeknownst to Frank, Peter, or anyone for that matter. It was kept completely secret. A mutual disdain for Frank and his extramarital behavior led the two to become closer. Their proximity in age also allowed for more intimate moments to develop over long nights and deep conversation. At some point that neither of them could exactly recall when, the relationship transitioned from support to fully sexual. Cynthia and Kevin have been having consistent sex for almost two years. "I can't believe this," Peter said in shock. His best friend was fucking his own stepmother. Almost forgotten in his mind was the fact that he too had been having sex with the same woman. "We have a special bond," Cynthia said in a delicate way. She was very aware of the sensitive situation unfolding. "As do we," she assured Peter. The two went on to share how Kevin ultimately found out about Cynthia and Peter. It was not very difficult according to his detail. "She stared at it, dude," Kevin said, referring to Cynthia's first discovery of Peter's special gift. "I knew that look. Because she looked at mine the same way," he said, eyeing Cynthia. She blushed. Kevin laughed and turned to Peter. "Did you know she's obsessed with big dicks?" All three laughed, before the seriousness of the situation returned. "Guys, I need to say something," Cynthia said. "I'm so, so, sorry for what happened. There's no denying this is my fault. I just don't want anyone to be hurt." "It's my fault," Peter interjected. "This is my fault. I didn't know about you two. I let my stupid horny ass ruin everything. I should go. I don't want to wreck this whole thing." Peter stood up, but Cynthia motioned for him to stop. "Peter, no. That's not what we want." "She's right, man. Have a seat. There's a solution here." Peter cautiously sat down. First, he felt like a home-wrecker and now he was a third wheel. "What?" he asked. Cynthia smiled. "We can still have fun." She turned to Kevin. "All of us." "All of us?" Peter asked, to which Cynthia excitedly nodded. "Yes, Peter. That is, if you're up to it. Kevin and I discussed and we're open to being... well... open." "So you're just gonna sleep with both of us?" "Yeah man," Kevin said. He was still unsure if Peter was going to be on board with this. "At the same time?" Peter asked. "Yes! And separately. Whatever the moment calls for," Cynthia said as she poured another glass of wine. "The point is, we can all co-exist and no one's feelings will be hurt." Peter ran his fingers in his hair, flabbergasted with the strange proposal. How did it come to this? First, he's fucking his best friend's stepmother and now they're proposing an open relationship and threesomes. He couldn't help but nervously laugh. "Oh man," he said. "I dunno about that." The group spent the next thirty minutes discussing what the potential arrangement would look like. Peter gradually became more comfortable with at least trying it. His biggest issue was hurting one of them and his second biggest issue was being naked and sexual around his best friend. That part scared him probably more than anything. There was one simple rule they all decided on. "If anyone gets hurt, we stop. All of us. It's over. Do I make myself clear?" Cynthia said with authority, directly addressing Peter's primary concern. Both boys nodded in agreement. It was a fair ask. "Good. Now, why don't we all go take a dip in the hot tub. Let's all go naked so we can feel a little more comfortable, ok?" Kevin stood up and began to unbutton his jeans. "Wait," said Peter. "What about Frank?" The subject of Frank had not been brought up in much detail. Cynthia had a habit of moving on from that topic sooner than later. "He's away for a week," she said, not directly addressing the bigger issue, but instead assuring Peter he wouldn't catch them. For now, that will have to do. -------------------------- The group continued their chat in the hot tub, transitioning away from the deeper topics and instead having a light-hearted conversation. Like one would be amongst any group of friends. Peter only saw Kevin naked for a brief moment as he slid into the hot tub. Knowing that Cynthia has an appreciation for larger penises, he wondered if Kevin was equipped like he was. In conversation, Kevin often joked about being small, but Peter assumed that was not true. "So, Kev. Does this arrangement mean you've got what I have under there?" he asked, attempting to make light of the situation. Cynthia beamed with excitement now that the two were getting more comfortable. Her nipples hardened as she sat with them entirely exposed above the surface of the water. It was hard for the boys not to look at them repeatedly. "Fuck no man. Yours is fucking huge," Kevin laughed. "Trust me, I've heard the stories." "From who?" "Who do you think?" Kevin asked as Cynthia raised her hand as if to say 'Guilty.' "Jesus," Peter shook his head. "Nothing stays secret around here." The group had managed to move on from the deep and telling conversation from earlier and were now having a great time. Casual conversation about their naked bodies was flowing easily. Peter allowed himself to relax and was becoming more and more aroused at the idea of being with Cynthia again. Even with Kevin there too. "Show him," Cynthia said. "Kevin has a nice one too. Are you hard, honey?" Kevin stood up, out of the water, revealing that he did indeed have an erection. He turned to the side and held it by the base. "Seven inches proud." Unsure how to react, Peter awkwardly looked at his friend's dick and nodded. "Nice," he said, quickly determining that sounded weird. He laughed at himself. "Nice, indeed," said Cynthia. "You both have such beautiful penises. What about you, Peter? Are you hard yet?" Peter fondled his soft cock under the water. "I can get there." To help, Cynthia beckoned Kevin to come over to her. He climbed up out of the water and walked around the tub deck to where she was. His firm cock swayed with each step. Cynthia hoisted herself up further out of the water, so that only her legs were submerged. She sat on the deck and reached up, taking hold of Kevin's aching dick. "See if this helps," she said, looking at Peter as she inserted Kevin's cock into her mouth. She sucked and stroked him while Peter watched, playing with himself underwater. "Whoa," he said. Cynthia couldn't deep throat Kevin, just like she couldn't Peter, but she made a very valiant effort. Nearly five inches of his hard shaft filled her mouth. She fondled his drooping balls as gurgling sounds escaped from the depths of her throat. Peter noticed Kevin's balls were even bigger than his. "Oh fuck, that's good," said Kevin. "That's fucking so good, Cynthia." It was bizarre to watch her suck Kevin off. In that moment, Kevin was no longer a person he had known almost his whole life. He was no longer a brother to him. Peter was starting to be able to compartmentalize his relationship with Kevin and remove boundaries. His cock started to throb underwater as he watched the blowjob. Cynthia was an expert. With her eyes closed, she slid up and down the big cock. Her boobs bounced back and forth as Kevin helped himself to a handful every once in a while. She had her legs now up and out of the water. Her toes curled with excitement. Peter imagined her pussy to be soaking wet as it was out of his view at that moment. "Holy fuck!" Kevin suddenly said. He had turned his attention towards Peter. Cynthia popped his cock out of her mouth to look and see. They each marveled at the sight. Peter's hardened dick was so big, it was sticking out of the water. All that was visible was the bloated head and some of the thick shaft. "My God," said Kevin in shock. "That thing gets huge, huh?" "Stand up sweetie. Show him the whole thing," Cynthia instructed. Peter hoisted himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the hot tub. He proudly jerked his big cock once for all to see. It was so big, it stretched up past his belly button. He then cupped his big hanging balls, letting them drop back down again. It was truly an impressive scene. "Ok, fuck. I think I'm gonna rethink our arrangement," Kevin said, facetiously. Peter responded by playfully wagging his cock in Kevin's direction. "Wait till you see it shoot," Cynthia said. "Of course, he's a shooter." Kevin said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've been known to sling a few ropes, yes," Peter said as he continued to stroke his cock. "Sling a few ropes. What are you, a cowboy?" Kevin poked fun at Peter's corny line. He then looked back down as Cynthia continued to suck his cock. She now did it with more ferocity and passion. Kevin responded by holding his hands behind his back and lightly thrusting. "Oh God, that's it," he said. Peter felt more comfortable now. With Cynthia occupied and Kevin in the zone, he snuck out of the tub and walked over to them. Kevin winked at him as he approached them. Peter began to stroke his cock as he stood next to his pal. Cynthia had her eyes closed but could tell he had arrived. She reached up and stroked Peter's cock while not skipping a beat with Kevin. "I could cum like this," he declared. "It feels so good." "Looks it," Peter said. His own cock was starting to feel overly sensitive as Cynthia expertly stroked it. Cynthia then popped Kevin's cock out of her mouth and glared up at the two of them. "Can someone please fuck me before you cum?" Taking charge, Kevin helped Cynthia to her feet before he spun her around. He played with his cock between her ass crack, running it up and down the gap. He even playfully poked her asshole with his cock head to which she responded with a slap. "Easy, big boy," she warned. Cynthia then bent over, reaching for her toes. Kevin immediately slid his cock deep into her pussy. She moaned loudly from the initial penetration. "Mmmmm God, Kev," she said. "You're so deep in me." Kevin braced his legs and began to thrust. He plowed his hard cock deep inside his stepmother, grunting with every movement. He was rougher than Peter, who always took his time. Perhaps it was because of his larger size and fearfulness he would hurt her. Kevin took a different approach. He fucked Cynthia with passion and force. As Peter jerked off watching, he wondered if Cynthia preferred this type of sex. All of a sudden, he felt unsure of himself, something he hadn't felt in a long time. "Oh God, you're so fucking tight. Mmmm fuck you feel good," Kevin said. The sound of his bulbous balls slapping against her ass could be heard by all. "Oh! Fuck! Fuck! Right there, Kev! Keep going! You're gonna make me cum!" Peter was excited watching. He even felt he would nut soon. At that moment, Kevin went down to his knees as did Cynthia. This created an opportunity for Peter to get involved. He walked over and joined them, lowering to his knees in front of Cynthia. She took his cock into her mouth immediately. Kevin and Peter made eye contact. They smiled at one another. Like two pals telling a joke. Kevin was the first to extend his hand. Peter slapped him high-five. With a mouth full of Peter's cock and a pussy getting impaled by Kevin, Cynthia came easily. Her orgasm that night was like many others. Loud and involved. She took a break from sucking Peter's dick as her moans took over. She closed her eyes and screamed at the ground while Kevin planted his cock the deepest it had been all night. Peter watched intently. He loved seeing Cynthia cum. She was so beautiful at that moment. He clutched his cock, desperate for release himself. Seeing Cynthia in that state, enjoying so much pleasure from her own stepson, Peter's best friend, was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Oh shit," he announced as he squeezed his cock. He was trying his best to hold off, but it was a losing battle. Kevin surprisingly had the best view. He watched Peter try and stave off an orgasm to no avail. Peter's mouth formed a circle as he unloaded a thick rope of white cum across Cynthia's back. It was easily a two foot, unbroken rope directly across her muscular surface. It stretched so far, it reached her ass crack, dangerously close to where Kevin was thrusting. He looked up in horror, afraid the next one was coming for him. But Peter turned just in time as he sprayed his next shots into the water of the hot tub. "Ohhh!" he moaned loudly, somewhat embarrassed to make that sound in front of his friend. "Ahh shit!" he screamed in pleasure. Cynthia's orgasm had subsided and she now looked up to watch Peter cum. "Good boy, Peter. Let it out. You're such a good boy. I bet that feels so good." "Holy shit, man," Kevin also commented. "You're getting it past the entire hot tub." "Yeah this is a whole lot," Peter said in a strained voice as he was still going. Cum shot out towards the tub and residual drops bounced off his cock onto Cynthia and the deck. "Oh fuck," he said. Cynthia laughed as the ninth and final cumshot dropped to the ground. Peter, completely spent and out of breath, stepped back, nearly falling over as he held onto his aching cock. "I told you!" she said. "Look at all that!" "It's all up your back," Kevin said. He had not stopped fucking Cynthia the entire time Peter orgasmed. In fact, he had decided to wait until Peter was done before he would release his own cumshot. "Ok, Cynthia," he tapped her on the back. "You ready for another load?" "Give me your cum, honey," Cynthia said as she spun around and knelt in front of Kevin. Instinctively, she reached for Peter's cock and pulled him near. Despite having just ejaculated, he was still hard as per usual. She stroked Peter while Kevin braced for orgasm. "Argghhh!" Kevin groaned as he stopped closer. His cock was only a few inches from Cynthia's wide open, waiting mouth. Unlike Peter, he wasn't normally a shooter. So he stood on his tippy toes as he angled his cock head directly over Cynthia's mouth. He then deposited thick loads into her mouth as he moaned. At least four healthy shots made it into her mouth with a fifth straggler dangling from his tip. He used his hand to help get it in. Peter found himself looking at Kevin as he orgasmed, albeit very briefly. It was an expression he never imagined seeing from his friend. A moment normally reserved for very private settings and not meant to be shared with friends. Cynthia then took Kevin's cock into her mouth and sucked it dry, ensuring she got every drop of his seed. She removed it and turned to Peter. Without saying anything she took his cock into her mouth as well. The warm sensation of her saliva mixed with his friend's recently deposited load was incredible. Peter didn't even care that it wasn't his cum. It felt amazing. She popped it out and smiled at the two of them while stroking their dicks. She then swallowed the entire load, opening her mouth wide to show them she had done so. "We did it," she said as she continued to sensually stroke them. "We did it," Kevin agreed. They turned to Peter. Peter smiled. "We did it," he echoed.

“Chat Noir,” Marinette says through a yawn. “What are you doing here?”  “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Chat asks, ears momentarily drooping, despite the excited grin he has on his face.  Marinette rubs her tired eyes before fully climbing through the trapdoor to the balcony, careful to close it behind her with a quiet click. She’s met with the chilly air of a Parisian night, and suddenly her pink pajama set isn’t quite enough to keep her completely warm.  But, she enjoys the cool breeze against her skin nonetheless.  “I’m not going to lie and say you didn’t,” she tells him with a shrug, “but since I’m up now you might as well tell me why you’re here at midnight.” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, before clearing his throat and perching himself on her railing, just like he did the last time he was here, before the Glaciator had attacked. “I needed to tell someone,” Chat replies, “and after going through all my options I concluded that you were the best person to tell.”  She raises a questioning brow at the superhero, starting to feel slightly uneasy about what he has to say. Marinette wonders why he can’t tell Ladybug whatever it is he’s hiding, given that they are in fact, partners.  “And what exactly are you needing to tell me?” Marinette asks, nervously tapping her bare foot against the ground.  “Remember the last time I was here?” Chat questions, and she responds with a swift nod. “Well, it’s related to what we talked about last time.” Her face scrunches up. “What we talked about last time?”  Suddenly, a lovesick grin appears on his face and Marinette is blinded by it.  “Oh!” Marinette shouts a little too loudly for this hour. “You wanna talk about—about Ladybug?” Chat blushes, but nods at her with the pink blossoming from under his mask. It’s hard to see with a majority of his face covered, but it’s there. Marinette is unsure how she feels about this. On one hand, she thinks it’s kinda adorable that Chat gets all lovesick talking about her, and on the other she thinks the irony of her being the only confidante to hear about... herself, is weird and maybe a little bit conflicting. But, he looks like he’s about to explode if he doesn’t say something to someone soon, and she figures she’s the best person to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid around her, or, Ladybug. ”Is that okay?” Chat Noir inquires softly, looking suddenly insecure about his plan.  Marinette hates it when he looks like that. “Yes! Of course it’s okay Chat, I’m all ears.”  The smile he gives her in return makes the discomfort of the situation worth it for now, she decides. ”I kissed her cheek!” Chat announces happily, looking happier than she’s ever seen him. “And I gave her a rose and she actually blushed! Like, her cheeks were pink and everything and it was just—just amazing being there with her in that moment. I can’t describe how happy I was for that brief moment!” Marinette laughs. “Wow, that’s awesome for you Chat. I’m glad you’re happy.” His happiness starts to turn into disappointment right before her eyes. “Well, I was happy. But... she’s in love with someone else.” The designer winces, forgetting that that part of the conversation had happened with Chat Noir too.  “It happened after the Glaciator was defeated, actually. The same day I came to see you, so it’s been a couple days since I’ve processed this information, and it still hurts just as much.” Marinette feels her stomach twist instead into knots as he speaks. She hates hurting Chat, but she can’t give up on Adrien.  “I’m sorry,” she tells him, reaching forward to place a hand comfortingly on his arm. “I’m sure she cares about you very much, Chat Noir.” He smiles wryly. “I know she does, just not in the way I wish she did.” ”We can’t help the way we feel,” Marinette says with a shake of her head.  “You’re right,” he agrees, “but I was thinking that maybe I could get her to finally understand how much I really love her. At least... one more time.” The baker’s daughter freezes. “W-What do you mean?” Chat takes in a deep breath, before a determined look settles in his green eyes. “I’m gonna try to lay out all my cards, one last time, before I give up on her.” ”How so?” Marinette’s voice is barely a whisper at this point, and she has a bad feeling about this. Chat Noir moves from the railing to the ground, smiling proudly. ”I’m going to confess, and say everything I’ve always wanted to say to her, and maybe she’ll understand how I am truly and fully in love with her and maybe she’ll choose me.” No... she won’t, Marinette thinks to herself, internally screaming at this cat boy that is reckless because of his love for her superhero persona. ”And if she doesn’t?” Marinette asks tentatively.  The blonde sighs. “If she doesn’t then I’m going to respect her wishes and stop pursuing her.” Marinette blinks. So, if she just rejects Chat one more time he’ll stop pining for her? Sounds simple enough... except she hates hurting him more than anything. But, as long as she can let him down gently, their friendship can be preserved and romance will no longer affect their partnership.  “Well, good luck with that!” Marinette chirps, offering two thumbs up to her partner. ”Thank you, Marinette,” he responds, “for everything you’ve done for me.”  “I’ve hardly done anything,” she argues, “just listened to you talk.”  Chat rolls his eyes. “And that’s more than most people do for me, so seriously, thank you.” ”Oh,” her voice says, a little saddened by the thought of Chat not having people to go to. “You’re always welcome to stop by if you need someone to listen.” A part of her feels so stupid for saying that, it’s dangerous and could jeopardize her identity or his. They aren’t supposed to know too much about each other and here she is offering him a place to spill all his personal details. But, when he wraps her in a hug and whispers thank you ten times in her ear she can’t find it in herself to really care.  Though it certainly won’t make rejecting him any easier... ”Maybe you can help me!” Chat Noir shouts suddenly, pulling away from the hug. “You’re a girl right?” Marinette gives him a look.  “I mean,” he backpedals, “I know you are, I just meant you know how girls think so you could help me with my confession.”  “I—what?!” Marinette yells.  “Think about it! If I practice confessing to you, you can tell me what I need to fix so that Ladybug will like it!”  “Chat, I don’t think that’s—“ “Please?” Chat Noir begs. “This is my last ditch attempt and I really want it to be perfect for her.” Marinette hates the brokenness of his tone, and against her better judgment she actually considers saying yes. Tikki will scold her, Marinette will scold herself later.  But... ”Okay,” she finds herself saying. Despite how incredibly dumb this is, she can’t deny her partner this. Not when she’s hurt him so many times in the past. It can’t be too hard, she hears him flirt with her all the time anyway. It’ll just be like that, and then once he confesses it’ll all be over and they can go back to their normal friendship. Right? ”Oh thank you so much Marinette!” Chat says with glee, picking her up and spinning her around before she can even react. “You’re the best! You’re an angel! A princess!”  “Woah, okay I mean I wouldn’t go that far—ah!” Marinette cuts herself off when Chat’s spinning comes to a sudden halt.  “I’ll let you get some sleep now,” he says as he puts her back down. “Thanks again.” And before she can say goodnight, he launches himself away, practically skipping across rooftops and it’s nice to know she made him that happy.  The underlying feeling of knowing she’ll also be the one to take that happiness away hurts more than she wants it to. Marinette will worry about that later. When she has to.

Lúcio’s knee was bouncing up and down as he and Pharah sat across from each other in the Orca. “Nervous?” said Pharah, folding her arms. Lúcio took off one ear of his headphones. “What?” his knee stopped bobbing.  Pharah smirked. “Never mind,” she said.  Lúcio glanced out the window of the Orca and shuddered a little at the gleaming white city below. “You are nervous,” said Pharah, leaning forward. “Eh, this place just always creeped me out when I had concerts here,” said Lúcio, “I mean any place called ‘Utopaea’ has got to have some messed-up stuff under the surface.” He glanced back out the window, “I mean even from here it’s like…It’s too clean. It’s too bright.”  “Well most of it is hard-light constructs,” said Pharah. “So who are we supposed to be picking up again?” D.Va piped up, glancing up from the game she was playing using her MEKA’s projection screen. “Satya Vaswani,” said Pharah, picking up a tablet and scrolling through it, “And we aren’t really picking her up, just making sure she has some security on her flight to Oasis.” “Wait–Vaswani?” said Lúcio leaning forward. Pharah turned the tablet around to show Lúcio the photo of her. “Symmetra,” said Lúcio, his brow furrowing. “Sym–what?” said Pharah. “That’s like, her supervillain name,” said Lúcio glancing up from the tablet. “Her what?” Pharah sat back in her seat, “Lúcio–She’s an architech.” “Obviously you’ve never met her,” said Lúcio. He looked thoughtful, “I should probably just hang back and make sure the perimeter’s safe. She uhhh…probably won’t accept our help if she sees me.” “Wait-wait-You’ve met her before?” “Well… to use the term ‘met’ loosely…” said Lúcio, rubbing the back of his neck. “She tried to stop him when he was taking back some tech that Vishkar stole,” said D.Va. Pharah’s eyes widened. “You didn’t think to mention this at the briefing?” “I wasn’t at the briefing,” said Lúcio, shrugging, “I’m only here because you needed someone to–” “To fill in for Doctor Ziegler, yes,” said Pharah. She glanced down. “Reaper really did a number on her, huh?” said Lúcio. “She’ll recover. And it’s important for you to get out in the field,” said Pharah. Lúcio huffed a little, “It’s okay, y’know?” he said, “I know you’re more used to her as your medic. Look, if we had time for her to give me a whole tutorial on how to use that Valkyrie suit of hers, I’d probably be wearing it right now and looking amazing.”  Pharah snorted. “According to your last mission report, you can handle yourself just fine in those hard-light skates.” “Well I don’t like to brag,” said Lúcio, interlacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back. “Yes you do,” said D.Va. “Okay yeah, little bit,” said Lúcio, smirking. “Preparing to land in Utopaea,” Athena announced. “Look sharp,” said Pharah, putting her helmet on – It was a bit of a wonder how anyone knew their way around Utopaea. Rather than simple stoplights, entire sections of the streets would dematerialize with perpendicular roads materializing in their place. It hadn’t been as bad from the Orca but down on the street levels it was almost blindingly white. There were also walkways stretching overhead that would shift, change direction, sometimes dematerialize altogether. It didn’t take long for the team to realize that these shifts in walkways and vehicular byways were automatic, though there was an architech here and there gesturing at a building or street utility to shift its location or design. In a sense it was a city constantly tweaking and perfecting itself, and the people who lived there just rolled with these updates accordingly. “I dunno how anyone can know what’s going on with Vishkar changing everything around here all the time,” muttered Lúcio. “I dunno,” said D.Va shrugging, “I kind of wish we could build stuff this fast in Busan.” “Well yeah, Vishkar wants you to want that. It’s how they get in,” said Lúcio, pocketing his hands, “Good luck trying to get them out though, and saying no to them? You don’t want to see Vishkar when someone’s said ‘No’ to it.” “Try and stay focused on the mission,” said Pharah, walking ahead of them.  They reached a large apartment building with several walkways materializing and dematerializing against it at different levels.  “You two,” Pharah glanced over her shoulder at D.Va and Lúcio, “Maintain the perimeter. I’ll go check on the architech.” Glancing at the mission specs on her comm, Pharah stepped into an elevator which shot up numerous floors and exited out at the top level. She stepped out of the elevator and walked down a gleaming white hall to a door. She knocked on it, “Miss Vaswani?” Several small spherical objects affixed to above and alongside of the door suddenly sprang to life and fixed on her, glowing bright blue and humming a bit menacingly. “Identify yourself,” a voice came from the other side of the door. Pharah nearly grabbed for her sidearm but calmed herself and turned her attention to the door. “My name is Fareeha Amari. You were told Overwatch would come to protect you.” “And how do I know you’re with Overwatch?” the voice was clipped, yet still somehow melodic, aristocratic almost. The passphrase, Pharah realized, I had a passphrase. She grabbed at her comm and quickly looked through it for the passphrase until she found it. “Laiṭlu āph ceyyaḍāniki,” she said, reading off of her comm. There was a pause and spheres affixed around the door stopped humming and their glow faded. “Your accent is terrible,” the voice came from the other side of the door and the door opened. Pictures in newspapers and dossiers had not done her justice. Maybe it was just the way everything was far too bright in Utopaea, but Satya Vaswani in the flesh was breathtaking, if not a bit intimidating. She held some kind of three-pronged object at the ready like it was a gun. “I’m not leaving the door open,” said Symmetra, “Come in quickly.” Pharah stepped over the threshhold and into the almost unsettlingly neat and clean apartment. She looked around for possible bugs or listening devices, but only found spherical objects identical to the ones that had been posted outside, hanging at various angles and on different walls and in corners. She looked over at Symmetra, who was looking at her intently. “Hi,” Pharah blurted out, then caught herself and saluted, “Greetings,” she said, straightening up and saluting. “I’m Faree—” “You have already given me your name,” said Symmetra, folding her arms.  “Right–” said Pharah, “Right…” “I will tell you what I told your ‘Nīḍa,’” Symmetra spoke the name as if Pharah would know who she was talking about, “I have no interest in associating with an organization that is renegade at best, criminal at worst. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. You can report back to your superiors and tell them I have no need for their big, barbaric…” she gestured up and down at Pharah, apparently searching for a word for her that wasn’t insulting, “…enforcers.” “Barbaric?” Pharah put her hands on her hips “Look, I don’t know who this  ‘Nīḍa’ is, but according to our intel, Talon put a hit out on you, and word is, Vishkar’s no longer protecting you. Overwatch is sworn to stop Talon on every front.” “Oh well they did an excellent job of it 5 years ago,” said Symmetra, rolling her eyes before furrowing her brows at Pharah, “Nīḍa said they were your friend,” she glanced off, “Or Overwatch’s friend at least.” Pharah paused, “Is… Nīḍa the reason you’re leaving Vishkar?” “I make my own decisions,” said Symmetra, frowning, “But I will say thanks to certain… revelations by Nīḍa, I have made the decision to leave Vishkar.” “Okay,” said Pharah, “Well–Look, if Vishkar isn’t protecting you, just let us—” “Pharah?” D.Va’s voice came over the comm, “We’ve got company.” “Evacuate the civilians,” said Pharah, “We’ll be right down.” “’We?’” repeated Symmetra. “Yes, ‘We,’” said Pharah, “I’m getting you out of here.” “I have countless sentry turrets up in this building for just this occasion,” said Symmetra as a red dot appeared on her shoulder and started trailing up her neck, “I do not require your—” Pharah suddenly tackled her to the ground as sniper fire hit the wall right behind where her head had been. Rather than shatter, the window of the apartment, which was made of hard light, dematerialized.  “What was—” Symmetra started. “Sniper,” said Pharah, “We need to get you out of here. Please come with me.” Symmetra pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “Very well,” she said in a slight huff.  “Come on!” said Pharah, grabbing her wrist, “And keep your head down!”  Symmetra was still gripping her photon projector as Pharah ran low across the floor of the apartment, gripping her wrist. “Wait–” said Symmetra as they reached the dematerialized window and Pharah took her around the waist, “What are you—” Pharah leapt. Symmetra screamed. They free-fell for 16 stories, sniper fire whizzing past their heads, before Pharah activated her jump-rockets and stabilizers and recovered in mid-air, still holding Symmetra. “Are you all right?” said Pharah, descending. “You expect me to answer ‘yes’ after that!?” said Symmetra. “Are you shot?!” Pharah snapped at her. “No, I’m not shot!” Symmetra snapped back. Another round of sniper fire barely missed Symmetra’s head. “Cover your ears,” said Pharah, taking out her rocket launcher. “Don’t drop me,” said Symmetra, taking her arms off from around Pharah’s waist to cover her ears. “I won’t,” Pharah fired her rocket launcher in the direction of the sniper fire. – “Merde,” said Widowmaker as she saw the rocket hurtling toward her. She grappled away just in time to see her perch blown to bits behind her. When she was able to reposition herself, she brought the scope up to her eye only to see both the target and her apparent rescuer dodge out of sight into the interior of the building. She put a hand to her ear. “Reaper,” she spoke, “I’ve lost visual contact on the target. It’s up to you.” “I have to do everything around here,” Reaper muttered over the comm. Widowmaker scoffed. “So dramatic,” she said, turning the comm off.  – Symmetra was shaking a bit as they ran into the garage of the apartment building, but was still managing to set up several small sentry turrets on different support pillars. “We’re on our way to your location!” Lúcio spoke over the comm, “Oh–Visual contact–” “Great, we could really use D.Va’s…” Pharah glanced up away from Symmetra and turned on her heel to see Lúcio skating up toward them with a barely-conscious and worse-for-wear-looking D.Va riding piggyback on him, “…MEKA…” Pharah stepped toward them and looked at the scratches, bruises, and scorch marks on D.Va, “Talon–?” “Taken care of,” said Lúcio, he forced a smile and looked at D.Va, “Thanks to D.Va here!” “So what…?” Pharah looked at D.Va. “Got clipped by my own self-destruct sequence,” said D.Va, pressing her face into Lúcio’s shoulder, “Scrub move.” “You did great,” said Lúcio, smiling at her. “Dos Santos?” Symmetra spoke up and Lúcio glanced up from D.Va. “It is you,” said Symmetra, her brow furrowing. Lúcio was silent for an awkward gap of time before giving her a small wave, “Uh…hi.” Symmetra turned and looked at Pharah, “Overwatch is associated with this–this–ruffian?” “Yeah, also he’s right here,” said Lúcio. Symmetra’s mouth drew to a thin angry line and she started pacing back and forth. “So assassins are after me, my only means of rescue is association with–” she gestured angrily at Pharah, Lúcio, and D.Va, “With you!”  “We can leave if you want,” said Lúcio, furrowing his brow, “You’re welcome to deal with these guys on your own.” “We’re not doing that!” snapped Pharah. She glanced over at Symmetra, “Do you know another way out of this garage?” Symmetra thought. “Do you have transport nearby? I could open a teleporter on it.” “The Orca,” said Pharah. She tossed Symmetra her comm. “Its coordinates are on here.” Symmetra looked at the coordinates and nodded, then brought up a projection out of her prosthetic hand and dialed some of the new coordinates into it. There was the sound of gunfire and suddenly a hologram of one of Symmetra’s sentry turrets appeared out of her prosthetic. “Intruder detected,” said Symmetra. “Just get the teleporter set up!” said Pharah. Symmetra nodded and drew up a projection of the teleporter. Her prosthetic flashed a red light again. “Sentry turret destroyed,” she said. “Just–” said Pharah. But with a flourish of her hand, Symmetra set the teleporter up. “You–” Pharah pointed to Lucio, “Get D.Va out of here.” “But—-” Lúcio started. “That’s an order,” said Pharah, “I’ll be right behind you.” Lúcio nodded and headed through the teleporter with D.Va on his back. “Miss Vaswani—” Pharah glanced up to see Symmetra setting up a few more sentry turrets, “You need to go,” said Pharah. “I know,” said Symmetra, setting up the last few sentry turrets, “I’ll see you on the other side,” she said, before disappearing into the teleporter. Just as Symmetra disappeared into it, Pharah moved to go through it as well but there was the sound of gunfire and the Teleporter collapsed and dematerialized. Pharah turned on her heel. “I could use another teleporter,” she said into her comm. “My prosthetic needs time to generate enough hard-light to make a sustainable path,” Symmetra replied, “I’ll have one up as soon as I can.” “Nice armor,” said Reaper. Pharah’s brow furrowed and she aimed her rocket launcher at him. Reaper glanced up at the low ceiling, “So… the wings won’t do you much good here. Plus I don’t think that thing will serve you too well in close quart—” Pharah blasted forward with her raptora wings and delivered a swift kick to Reaper in the gut. Reaper slammed into one of the cars in the garage and grunted.  “That was from Genji,” said Pharah, “For Volskaya.” Reaper lifted his gun at Pharah and Pharah seized it by the barrel and punched him in the face as she wrenched it from his hand. and smacked him across the face with it and threw it off to the side. “Let me guess,” Reaper rasped, “That was from Doctor Ziegler?” “No. Me,” said Pharah. She moved to punch him again but it was then that Reaper managed to block her strike with one arm and get a shot from his other gun in with the other. The blast clipped her, catching most of her helmet and shoulder and knocking her back. She grunted on the ground and then gripped the edge of her helmet. It broke away easily and she rolled over to her knees and coughed, feeling blood running down the side of her face. She found herself staring down the barrel of his gun. She looked up at him and he hesitated. “Ana?” the name fell out of him and then he quickly caught himself, “No–” he aimed the gun at her again, but she swiped his legs out from under him and caught him with a rocket-boosted uppercut, thrusting him upward where she moved to kick him in the torso again but he turned to smoke and her leg phased through him. She caught another shotgun blast, in the chest this time. “Raptora structural integrity compromised,” the voice of the armor automatically sounded off in her earpiece, “Retreat and repair.” Pharah grunted and moved to get up but Reaper put a boot on her chest and shoved her down to the ground. “Ana had no business dragging you into this,” said Reaper. Pharah coughed. “My mother didn’t drag me into anything,” she replied, “Someone has to stop Talon. Someone has to stop you, Gabe.” The name seemed to shake him, coming from her, but it didn’t stop him from pointing his gun at her. “Part of me almost wishes I taught you better,” he said. He pulled the trigger but his gun clicked empty. He snarled and tossed the gun aside. “There was one thing you taught me,” said Pharah. She raised her arm. “Clearing the area,” she said, her brow furrowed. She fired a concussive rocket from her wrist. Reaper turned to smoke and it phased through him easily. He returned to physical form and pulled out another gun to aim at her when the concussive rocket hit the car behind him and detonated. Pharah covered her face as Reaper was sent flying over her into the wall behind them, where he was caught in the beams of several of Symmetra’s sentry turrets. A sound that wasn’t really human escaped him and he dissolved into a wisp of shadow and disappeared. Pharah flopped flat on the ground, panting as her Raptora armor continued beeping in alarm and going on about compromised structural integrity. She then heard the whirring, chiming sound of hard-light forming and glanced off to the side to see a teleporter opened up.  “Thank you, Satya,” she said softly.  She let out a huff of a laugh, a bit painfully, and struggled to her feet. Gripping her shoulder, she walked into the teleporter. 

Exciting wasn't the word Jason Lee would use to describe his career. Being the youngest partner in the firm at thirty two, which was quite an accomplishment in property law. As a partner one would think that Jason would be well respected, but he knew he was often the butt of jokes. Small time was the snide nick name they had given him. He took it in stride, thought. His work was always solid, on time, and he held some very big accounts. It was because of those accounts that they had assigned Sara McVety to him. She was smart and hard nosed, but those weren't the qualities that made her dangerous to him. It was her charming and warm presentation. He had to give her credit she was good at reading people, clients would often ignore him when she was there, clients that were very important to his status as partner. Last quarter they had showed told him that he was steadily bringing in less money for the last two quarters. He wasn't worried. However, the pressure was there. It was this thought that had wedged a knot in his gut. A feeling that was eating at him as he sat in the conference room watching Sara present another compelling presentation to a new client. "Well, I'm sold!" the client said, as his eyes were locked on Sara's ample cleavage. "Thank you Mr. Baxter," Sara said, as she leaned forward sliding the contracts toward the client. When she turned the client stare was fixated at the beautiful view she was displaying. He gave a leery smile as he sauntered out of the room. Sara flopped down in the chair next to Jason and let out a sigh, "What a total perv!" "Well, you were playing up to him," Jason said. "That's not true." "Didn't you have that blouse buttoned all the way up this morning?" She blushed and quickly started to button up again. "That doesn't mean he isn't a perv." "Does that make me a perv?" She playfully punched him in the shoulder. "It shows that you have a pulse Mr. Lee." He smiled at the fact that she still called him Mr. Lee. She was one of the few people in the firm that respected him. She had came to his defense when the partners had warned him about his earnings and she never tried to steal any of his big clients. She worked hard to get new clients, he had often seen her work late at nights and knew her work was as solid as his. "Why do you -- " he said, but stopped knowing that the question might make her feel uncomfortable. "No, go ahead," she said. "Why do I sell myself like this? How else am I going to land those big accounts? I'm thirty five, Mr. Lee and I only bring in a fraction in earnings that you do. I was working my ass off for years in this firm hoping that they would make me partner. When I heard that they were going to expand the property division I thought I was finally going to get the offer. Instead we merge with a small no name firm and I take a back seat to you." He winced and shifted in his seat. Old wounds were bleeding again. "I'm sorry Sara, I didn't mean to --" "Stop it already." She stood up and looked down at him. "That's the worse part of all of this. You actually deserve to be partner. You put in the time most partners let their associates do. You know more about property law than anybody in the firm. I can't stand it when people say that your only partner because of circumstances and I really hate it when they call you small time. You are the top earner in this firm. If anything you did this firm a favor by staying on as a partner. Your clients stick with you because they know you are just that damn good." She paused, cheeks flushed, she took a breath to compose herself. "I should be the one asking you -- how do you do it?" He see her seething, he never knew she was this frustrated. He sat back and thought about his next move. She could be a very important ally in this firm but she could also be his down fall. He looked at her, she was being honest. "Are they pressuring you as well?" he asked. "They told me that I would have to earn at least seventy percent as much as you in order to make partner. It would take me years before I could even earn half as much as you. I'm already doing everything can. I've sacrificed my social life, I've missed birthdays, weddings, my sister already as three kids. And yet you've already attained everything I'm striving for." He stood up and motioned her to follow him. As they walked back to his office he uneasy, but he knew he needed to make a move otherwise the other partners would find some other way to force him out. Once closed the doors to his office he knew it was a risk he was going to have to take. "Why are we here?" she asked. "I have a proposal for you. How far would you go to get a big client?" She pulled back, face twisted with scorn. "Wait let me explain." He walked behind his desk and sat down, trying to keep his distance from her. "You already know that all these clients talk to each other and if you get one of them your reputation with that client will drawn in more big clients. Now my proposal is a simple one. I'll introduce you to my first big client and you help me establish a steady stream of new clients." She had a stern look on her face. He had already knew that she had filed a sexual harassment suit against an associate that had gotten that associate fired. Even thought she played up her sexuality for clients, she did not play nice with frat boy antics. "What do you mean how far would I go?" "It means that when you meet this client you will do whatever it takes to make this client trust you." Her stone exterior did not break. "Who is this client?" "I can't tell you that. I can assure you that she is very picky with the type of people she trusts and that she will test you. So I ask you are you willing to do anything to please this client." He watched her think out his proposal. He had purposely let it slip that the big client was a female, hoping that this fact would ease some of her very valid concerns. After what felt like an eternity she stood up, face still stern but with the posture of confidence. "Fine, it's a deal you introduce me to this client and I help you gain new clients, on one condition. Nobody ever learns about this meeting or deal." "She wouldn't want it any other way." He stood up and held out his hand, she shook it with a strong grip. "Meet me here tomorrow, wear something conservative -- no perfume, no blouses that show any cleavage and no skirts that highlight your amazing ass. Think nun in a business suit." She nodded, walked toward the door, before left she looked back at him. "Mr. Lee?" "Yes?" "So you think I have an amazing ass, huh?" She gave him a wink and waltzed out. *** The next day Jason sat in his office watching the clock. His office door opened and Sara walked in smiling. She had on a tan pantsuit that seemed one size too big. "Is this austere enough for you?" He walked up and inspected her. "Lose the make up." "What, you did not say anything about no make up." "Just go take it off and meet me at my car. We can't be late." He took off for his car not waiting to hear her response. He knew he had to trust her but her last words last night made him feel uneasy. It was a the type of comment she usually reserved for her clients. Was he being played? The car door open and Sara slid in with her game face on. Her blonde her was up in a bun and despite having no make up on Jason still thought she looked beautiful. She held up her hand. "Not a word. Drive. Now." As they hit the road he could see her looking out watching familiar business watering holes known for high powered meetings pass by. It wasn't until they were on the highway did she start to give him a look of concern. After a couple of miles she turned to him. "Country club?" "Don't worry about it. She is very private." After a couple of minutes they pulled off the highway and took a country road that seem to go into the middle of corn fields. An iron gate pulled into view and Jason rolled down the window and pushed the intercom. "Ms. Johnson? It's Jason Lee with my associate Sara McVety." "Bring visitors are we?" a voice on the other end said. The gate open and they drove in. A well manicured lawn and garden greeted them, but they were only a prelude to the mansion that was at the end. They parked in front of a garage and made their way to the front door. Before he rang the door bell, he looked at Sara. "Remember she will test you. If you don't want to do something just say no." "But I'll miss my chance if I say no right?" "Pretty much." He rang the doorbell and a butler answered the door. Wordlessly he guided them to room were a lady sat in a chair. She was dressed in a conservative blue dress with her hair in a bun similar to how Sara had her's. "Hello Jason, it's good to see you again. Have a seat." She motioned at the butler and he left the room. "Sara is it? Has Jason ever told you how he became my lawyer?" "No Ms. Johnson." "He became my lawyer because he earned my trust. Now my daughter is also in need for a good lawyer and I was inclined to refer her to Jason again, but he told me that there was another young lawyer that would benefit from my goodwill. Now, Jason knows how much I place on trust and he clearly thinks he can trust you. I ask you can I trust you?" "Yes, Ms. Johnson. I assure you that I will be able to -- " "That's not what I asked!" Ms. Johnson turned toward him. He knew what was coming next, he had thought that it would be Sara put through the paces, but he now knew that this would be an exercise on how much he really trusted Sara. And to be honest he wasn't completely sure he could, yet. "Jason, you seem to be over dressed for our meeting," Ms. Johnson said. Without a moment of hesitance, he stood up and began to take off his clothes. He kicked off his shoes and socks and took off his suit. "Stop," Ms. Johnson said as Jason was about to take off his boxers. "Face her." He turned and looked at Sara. She had the same stern poker face, but her eyes betrayed her. They were examining him up and down. His hairless chest and tone chest accentuated the v shape taper of his back. His solid midsection built from his dedication in the gym. He could feel his dick slowly becoming hard. "Sara, is it? Take off his underwear." Sara reached up and pulled down his boxers. His cock sprung, sticking straight out. He was a good seven inches in length and good six inches in girth. He heard a small gasp escape Sara's lips. "Oh, you have never seen him naked before?" "No, Ms. Johnson," she said. "I thought the reason why he trusted you was because you had shared his bed. This changes everything." Ms. Johnson got up and walked to a nearby cabinet and took out a small cigar box. "It makes me wonder why he thinks he can trust you. I now know it can't be an strong emotion such as love or lust -- the difference is debatable -- it must because you have a mutual goal or even something more rare than love...loyalty." She placed the box beside Sara. "Open it." Sara slowly opened the box. Inside was a ten inch crystal dildo and a bottle of lube. His heart sank, it wasn't uncommon for Ms. Johnson to use the dildo on him, but he was hoping she would not make Sara use it on him. Without being told he got on all fours. "Wait you want me to stick this in him?" Sara said, her voice had cracked, her facade had fallen and a look of total surprise was on her face. He held his breath this was the point of no return, either she would go all in or she wouldn't. Ms. Johnson raised her eyebrow and nodded. Sara picked up the lube and coated the dildo. "Don't forget to loosen him up with your fingers, my girl." Sara looked at Jason with wavering eyes. She lubed up her fingers and began to play with his anus, rubbing his opening gently at first coaxing him to accept one finger, and than two, and than eventually three. Their breathing had become shallower, faster and hotter. He couldn't believe that she was actually doing this. He felt that Ms. Johnson would somehow try to push her limits of decency, how easy those limits were broken were quite evident. He looked back and saw her biting her upper lip in concentration. With her free hand she began to trace light circles around his anus, slowly trailing down toward his balls, sending a shiver up his spine. He moaned. "You have a gentle touch," Ms. Johnson said. "Let's see how you handle the rod." Sara pick up the dildo, she glanced at him, but her eyes quickly went back to his ass. He felt the hard pressure against his opening, he exhaled and tried to relax. Slowly she began to stretch his opening, he felt the head push through sending another shiver up his spine. And than she did something he did not expect, she angled the dildo until it was pressed up against his prostate sending waves of pleasure through him. He looked back again and saw Ms. Johnson helping her guide the dildo. A small smile was on the edges of her mouth and her cheeks were a rosy tinge of arousal. "That's it my girl," Ms. Johnson said. "You've found his pleasure spot, keep at it. Watch his breathing, notice how it quickens as you massage the area. You don't have dig deep to find pleasure. Oh no, you've neglected his member. Yes, that's right, a little bit of cock play can go a long way. You can almost see him quiver with your touch. So my girl, what do you think of your boss' cock?" "Excuse me?" Sara stammered. "Well, I'm sure this is the first time you have ever handled his member. It may not be a monster, I have seen many monsters in my day, I find that it is his girth that makes me love his cock, wide enough to stuff any wanting pussy. Is it not?" "Yes," Sara said softly. "Oh my, I embarrassed you," Ms. Johnson said. "A deep seeded lust, perhaps? How is he as a superior? He must treat you well, seeing as your touch is every so light. Any resentment at all?" Jason felt the pleasing massage pause, he swallowed hard, not wanting to turn and face Sara. Surely there must be some resentment. Would she take it out on him now? "Yes, I see it now," Ms. Johnson said. "Past over were we, by this cock? Maybe a little retribution is in order huh? Time to stick to the boss." A surge of pressure shot through Jason as he could feel the dildo plunged to the hilt. Unprepared bowels let loose a mortifying groan and his ass squeaked out a little bit of gas. Ms. Johnson smack his cheeks. "Bad boy! You know better than that." Another involuntary moan slipped from his mouth. He dare not look back. The pilfering of his ass soon took a long and methodical rhythm and moans were replaced by grunts. After a couple of minutes he realized that Sara was grunting along with him as she plunged into him with controlled enthusiasm. He felt his cock begin to sway heavily and soon he was erect again. He felt the familiar snap of his cheeks being smacked again. A lighter touch than before. It must be Sara. Each smack became stiffer, harder, stronger. He risked a glance back and saw a wicked smile on her face. He yelped as one smack had finally sent a painful shock through his body. "That was for taking my job," she said. The dildo pressed against his prostate and he felt his throbbing cock caressed. A wave of pleasure. "That's for being worthy enough to deserve it." He could barely stand the ecstasy he was in, his cock was begging to be held, to find release. "Stop my dear, don't want him to cum so easily," Ms. Johnson said. The dildo slipped out of him, his head dipped in disappointment. Close but so very far. "Get up." He staggered to his feet his, ass burning red and cock pulsating for attention. Sara was flush and she shined lightly from a touch of perspiration. The wicked smile did not fade as he looked into her eyes. "You look too excited, Jason," Ms. Johnson said. "Some jumping jacks should help calm you down." He started the requested callisthenics. As he jumped up and down his cock began to flop around obscenely. Sara's eyes were fixated on his face, he found it difficult to to reciprocate the smile back. She was taking pleasure in his sexual frustration. "That's enough," Ms. Johnson said. "You two have a seat. I'll be right back." The each found their seat again on the couch and waited for her to return. He stared straight forward, unwilling to engage in conversation. He knew that her test wasn't over. She was the one to break the silence. "I guess I've been a real pain in the ass this morning, huh?" He laughed. He looked over to his associate. "It's okay, I've been a dick." "A very big dick." They both laughed. The whole morning seemed to slip into perspective. "What do you think she has in store for us next?" she asked. "You never know with Ms. Johnson. The first time I had met her, I spent an hour performing cunnilingus on her." "That doesn't sound too extreme." "It was during a conference presentation. My whole staff was there." "Well that's one way to seal the deal." "They didn't know I was there." "Why she ask you to do it?" "She didn't ask," he said. " I walked into the conference room determined that I would get the account. When I greeted her I just knew she was the type of woman that wanted control and I told her that with me should would have total control of her assets. I got on my knees went under the table and went to work." "Oh my god and you give me a hard time for selling myself.' "I know," he chuckled. " I'm a whore" "Glad to see that you are both in good spirits." They looked up and saw Ms. Johnson. "Follow me." She lead them to the front door, her butler opened it letting a breeze brush against Jason's nakedness. A black car was running outside and they got into it. They drove away from the tucked away mansion and back onto the highway. Sara was once again stern. To Jason's relief he notice that they weren't going toward the city. He remembered the one time Ms. Johnson had forced him to jack off in the middle of a women business luncheon in a busy restaurant downtown. He was so nervous that it took him a eternity to cum. He was so embarrassed that once the deed was done he ran out the back in shame. They pulled into a private golf course. Once out of the car the butler lead them to two golf cart and left them. Ms. Johnson got into one cart and they got into the other. Jason could see some women in the lobby pointing at him. Ms. Johnson waved at them and they politely waved back with leery grins. Sara drove the golf cart as they followed Ms. Johnson through the course. He noticed that only women were on the golf course. Each time they passed a golfer he received the same grin. They pulled up to the eleventh tee box and were greeted by two golfers. "Mother, well this is a pleasant surprise," a brunette golfer said. "Jason! What has mother got you doing now? Up to no good I see. Are you here to land another big account?" "You might say that Matilda," Jason said. He had met Matilda under many circumstances and this was his normal attire on each occasion. "I like to introduce you to my associate Sara McVety." "A pleasure to meet you," Sara said. "Well, I'll let you feel each other out," Ms. Johnson said. The other female golfer got into the golf cart with Ms. Johnson and they drove off, leaving the trio behind. "Do you golf?" Matilda asked. "Of course and necessary skill in our line of work." "Great, look in the cart, I'm sure mom packed a pair of golf shoes for you." Once Sara had her shoes on they teed off. As Matilda swung Jason caught a glimpse of her bare pussy. Game on. "You have a very nice swing," Matilda said as they walked up to the green. "Thank you, so do you." "I've been working at it. I'm still a little be tight in my follow through, which follows me when I putt, but I've found if I could relax my rear end more during putting, it real improves my stroke." She wiggled her ass at Jason and he knew what he had to do. He walked up behind her and got to his knees. He lifted her skirt and began to lick her crack. A half a round's worth of salty crack sweat with a hint of cherry body spray rolled onto his tongue. "Thank you, Jason," she said. "Sara, it's too bad you're in slacks otherwise I would offer you some. He really is quite good. Why do you take off your jacket, it's warm out here." Sara took off her jacket and handed it to him. They both sank their putts. On the next hole, he was once again behind Matilda this time he spread her cheeks wider and gave her a good rimming. "Easy there tiger, don't want to make me too loose," she said. She gave his cock a small squeeze. "Let's make this interesting. If I win a hole, you have to place a golf ball into Jason's ass." "And what if I win?" Sara asked. "Call it." Sara leaned back and gave Jason a wicked smile. "If I win Jason has to cum into the hole." "I like how you think girl," Matilda said. "You better have eaten your spinach today, Jason. If you can't perform there will be a penalty." As they teed off, Jason was unsure of which golfer to root for. He was unsure if he would be able to take six golf balls in his ass and he was definitely sure he wouldn't be able to cum six times. When the approached the green he saw that Sara was away. She lined up her putt and drained it from twelve feet. She gave a small fist pump, which digressed to a jerking off gesture and blew Jason a kiss. Matilda putted and fell an inch short. "Come on tiger show me a hole in one," Matilda said. He massaged his tool as he walked up to the hole. He squatted at the hole and began to stroke in earnest. The warm sun bathed his back as he worked himself off. "Just tap it in, tap it in," Sara said. "It's all in the hips," Matilda chimed in. They giggled together as they watched him unleash one into the hole. Matilda let out a hoot and grabbed a towel from her bag. "A good golfer leaves the course as they found it," she said, leaving Jason to clean up his mess. As he walked back to the carts his cock hung loose between his legs, relieved from the mornings stress. "That will not do," Matilda said. She reached into a bag and produced a cock pump. Sara raised an eyebrow. Jason got the feeling she had never seen a guy use a cock pump. "I like my caddies ready to go." She tossed a tube of lube at him and he got busy lubing up his softened cock. He inserted himself into the cylinder and slowly pumped himself up, filling it up. "It looks so much bigger now," Sara said. "It takes a long time to see those results. Jason has certainly been practicing." Matilda smiled approvingly. "Keep it on until you need to rub one out." They played the next hole and Matilda easy won. Jason dutifully lubed up a golf ball and eased it into his ass, as he was peppered with hole in one punchlines. As they continued to play, to Jason's dismay Matilda won the next two, forcing him to carry three balls in his ass. To make matter's worse he felt his cock begin to strain against the cylinder. He was careful not too over pump the tube, but his years of cock pumping had made it easy for his cock to succumb to the pressure and stretch and fill the tube. He had now filled the nine inch tube and was straining to be released from his chamber. "Only two more holes to go," Matilda said, as they watched Sara set up for her tee shot. "Are you going to be able to make it?" "Sara will come through in the clutch," he said. "I take it you've had experience cumming through her clutch, huh?" "Actually no." "You've never touched that sweet ass?" "Nope." Matilda looked at Sara as she finished her follow through. "She must be a good lawyer for you to introduce her to our family, Jason." He shrugged. "What can I say? I take my job seriously." When they came to the seventeenth green Sara came through for Jason's aching cock and ass and sank another impressive putt. He quickly released the pump and shuffled to the hole. "The way you hurried to the hole one might think it was the first pussy you've ever seen," Matilda said. Jason squeezed his puffy and engorged cock at the base. He knew he had to prevent his cock from becoming flaccid after he came and he put on a cock ring he had found in another bag in the cart, Ms. Johnson had planned for everything this afternoon. "Clever," Matilda said. Sara was staring at his enlarged red member. He massaged the head of his cock. The prolong time in the tube made getting off a bit more difficult, it also didn't help that he had already blew a huge load three holes back. He began to milk this cock and play with his balls. "If you don't hurry up, you may be penalized for slow play," Matilda said. Sara gave him a coy smile and winked at him. "Come on Mr. Lee, milk that fat cock for me." He noticed that her blouse was unbutton showing him her ample cleavage. He felt the pressure build at the base of his balls and he squirted out another decent load. "Alright big boy!" Sara shouted. His cock remained heavy and thick this time, thanks to the cock ring. "Last hole," Matilda said, as she set up for her drive. It was a par five and both golfers were swing for the fences, landing on the green in two. Matilda was away and had eased her first putt three inches from the hole. Sara had difficult downhill putt, which skipped over the hole leaving her with difficult second putt. She gathered herself, found her line and putted. It rolled with good four foot left to right break and sank it dead center. "Great putt, Sara," Jason said. Matilda came up to her easy putt. The ball hit the lip and rimmed out. She cursed herself and cleaned up the hole. "I guess you get another chance to get off," She said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Good game Sara, you really proved yourself out there." Jason gave Sara a thumbs up and trotted out to the hole. He took a deep breath, the fact that they were able to get on the green on two did not leave him a lot of time to recover from his last load. He hoped he would be able to rub just one more out. He started out with long slow strokes, focusing on trying to get the maximum pleasure on each stroke. Minutes passed and he was wondering if he would be able to let another one loose. "Remember the penalty Jason," Matilda said. "If you don't perform on this hole, I'll suggest to my mother that she should give her account to Sara over here." He began to stroke harder, knowing that Matilda was not one to joke about the deals she made. He stuck a finger in his already crammed ass and tried to massage his prostate. He wriggled his finger searching for the spot to push him over the edge. No luck. He jumped up and ran to the cart. He grabbed the lube and took a pitching wedge. At the hole he got on his knees and worked up the lubed handle of the club into his ass. "Playing it were it lies," Matilda said. "Come on Jason work your ass. " He tried to ignored the distraction and began to stroke furiously. He was so close. Just a little more. "Hey!" Sara shouted. He looked up and saw her standing there topless. Her breast seemed to defy gravity as they perched perfectly on her. Pink silver dollar nipples perked out begging for him to suckle them. She pinched them and gave him a seductive moan. He groan in wanting and he felt a surge rising from deep in his ass, he pushed the club deeper and his body shook and he felt his cock jerk and small creamy load squirted out. He collapsed, exhausted. "Good play, Jason," Matilda said. "Clean up the hole and meet me in the club house." He got up and watched Sara and Matilda drive off. He cleaned up his mess and drove up to the clubhouse. Walking through the clubhouse he was met with many grins and hellos. He had removed the cock ring, but his member was still very thick and long and stick straight out. Sara and Matilda were in the lobby drinking lemonade. Ms. Johnson was also there. They looked like they were enjoying a lazy afternoon. "Jason, there you are," Ms. Johnson said. "We were just finishing up business. Sara is going to be taking care of Matilda and you of course will continue to be my lawyer, as if there was any doubt. You always come through for me. I took the liberty of bring you your clothes and your car. I hate to rush you out,but management is getting anxious with a half cocked naked man wandering around here." He picked up his clothes and put them on as the girls talked about when they were going to play a full round of golf, a girls outing if you will. Overall the day had been a success, a bit stressful at the end, but Sara really helped him out in the end. As he straightened his tie Sara handed him a glass of lemonade. "You earned it out there," she said. He downed it quickly, parched from the sun and all the fluids he had loss. He thanked his hostess again and they walked out to the car. They pulled back onto the highway, a relax smile was still on Sara. The whole day had really proved to him that he could trust Sara and it had definitely brought them closer. "You did good today," he said as they drove the lull of the highway home. "I did good, you were superhuman out there. I didn't think you could top what you did at the house, but you did, under the gun even." "Well, I did have some help on the last hole." She blushed. "I couldn't leave you hang there. It was nothing." "Trust me, those are certainly not nothing." "Remember our deal nobody learns about what happened today." "Like I want to tell anybody I stuck three golf balls up my ass." "Where are those golf balls by the way?" He gave a sheepish shrug. "They're still up your ass!" She started to laugh uncontrollably. "Mr. Lee, I think you are the one with the amazing ass." "Call me Jason."

Private Chat: Babybear and Hyungie   Babybear: I am very upset Hyungie: huh? Hyungie: bear?? Hyungie: what’s happened? Hyungie: TaeTae please answer my calls Hyungie: Tae???     Private Chat: Soulmate and Angel   Soulmate: I think he’s cheating on me Angel: WHAT Soulmate: Well Soulmate: i don’t really think he is Soulmate: i trust him Soulmate: but fuck Soulmate: what if he is? Soulmate: it would make sense Soulmate: it’s always been too good to be true Soulmate: he always deserved better Angel: Don't you dare!  Angel: He wouldn’t do that you Angel: And don't you ever even imply that you deserve less than perfect Angel: You deserve the world Minnie Angel: Just calm down and think things through okay? Soulmate: fuck Soulmate: i just feel so shitty Soulmate: i know he wouldn’t do that to me, to us Soulmate: but he’s been so weird Tae Soulmate: secretive, sneaking off Soulmate: he even hides his phone from me you know? whenever he’s texting someone or he’s on a call, he’ll get all quiet or try and hide his screen from me when i go near him Soulmate: if it was anyone but Yoongi, i would be sure he was cheating Angel: Exactly, but it’s Yoongi hyung Angel: He loves you so much Minnie, he wouldn’t do that Soulmate: i know Soulmate: but seriously Tae what else am i supposed to think? Soulmate: I’ve never really been that insecure of our relationship, but whenever we fight, not just a small argument but when it gets like this Soulmate: it just opens up all my insecurities about myself Soulmate: i can’t stop crying TaeTae Soulmate: i don’t know whether to confront him or not? cause Jin hyung said he knew the whole story and surely he would tell me if he was cheating? Angel: You’re right.. he did say that Angel: I’m going to speak to hyung Angel: He can be so stupid sometimes, you don’t deserve this Minnie Angel: And as much as I love hyung, I will not allow my soulmate to be sad Soulmate: i love you :( Angel: i love you more :( Angel: And by the way, you deserve the whole world, you’re beautiful and kind and I’m convinced your smile could light up a room Angel: Dont put yourself down just cause hyung is being a dumbass Soulmate: omg i’m so gonna tell him u called him that Soulmate: :((( i really do love u TaeTae :( I have the best soulmate ever Angel: Don’t lie Soulmate: ? Angel: You can’t have the best soulmate ever, because I do Soulmate: :((( you always cheer me up Soulmate: i’m gonna cry again I miss hyung so much Angel: I promise you I’ll sort this Angel: He’s always been so stubborn he probably doesn’t even realise what he’s doing Angel: He’s so kind and attentive.. let me slap some sense into him Soulmate: Don’t hit him.. Angel: I will if I have to     Private Chat: Hyungie and Babybear   Hyungie: Tae???? Hyungie: fuck TaeTae please answer your calls Hyungie: Tae!? Babybear: I’m sorry I meant to say Babybear: I’m very upset with you Hyungie: oh Babybear: You were very dismissive of Jiminie and that’s not okay  Hyungie: please don’t start Tae  Hyungie: I’m stressed enough as it is Babybear: Is whatever you’re stressed over more important than Jimin? Babybear: You will lose him if you don’t get your head out your ass Hyungie: wtf Tae since when did you swear? Babybear: I don’t but Im very upset right now Hyungie: look if you’re just here to make me feel bad then save it i don’t need your help Babybear: Wow.. that hurt Hyungie: wait no i didn’t mean that Babybear: Yes you did Hyungie: no i didnt Hyungie: i just  Hyungie: i wanna sort this out myself not right now Babybear: You really don’t see it, do you? Hyungie: see what Babybear: He was so excited about last night you know? Babybear: He rushed around making dinner, even had to go to the store for extra ingredients to make your favourite, lit candles and put on music for you Babybear: And you didn’t even care enough to show up Babybear: If Gukkie ever did something like that to me, I’d be heartbroken Babybear: You really messed up hyung Hyungie: fuck Hyungie: he actually did all that..? Babybear: Of course??? He loves you hyung Babybear: I don’t know what’s been up with you, but we’re all noticing it Babybear: You’ve been sneaking off and hiding your phone from Jimin whenever he’s seen you the past couple weeks Babybear: I didn’t want to tell you this but I feel sick even thinking about it and I need you to tell me the truth Hyungie: ..? Babybear: Are you cheating on Jimin? Hyungie: holy shit Hyungie: of course not! Hyungie: what the fuck Hyungie: no?? never?? like literally NEVER? Hyungie: is that what he thinks??? Hyungie: oh fuck Hyungie: fuck i’m such an idiot Hyungie: i’m such an asshole Tae he must have been so upset last night and Hyungie: he really Hyungie: fuck if he thinks there’s someone else.. Hyungie: fuck TaeTae what can I do Babybear: First you need to be honest with him about what you’ve been doing Babybear: And you need to apologise sincerely to him  Hyungie: fuck but it’ll ruin the surprise Babybear: ? Hyungie: I’ve been doing something for Minnie Hyungie: fuck I guess I might as well just tell you Hyungie: but please promise me you won’t tell anyone Babybear: Of course!! Hyungie: our anniversary is coming up Hyungie: and i want to make this one special Hyungie: so i’ve been planning something and it’s taking me a lot of time to perfect and i’ve been meeting with people to organise it Hyungie: tip: hiring a party planner with low reviews just cause they’re cheap is a very bad idea Hyungie: he fucked up so i’ve been trying to fix everything in time Babybear: Thats sweet but.. isn’t your anniversary in June? Hyungie: yes Hyungie: i’m not talking about our anniversary of when we got together Hyungie: it’s almost the anniversary of when I first met him Hyungie: March 1st Babybear: You Babybear: You remember the day you met? Babybear: Really? Hyungie: yeah of course? i wrote it down in my journal back the  Hyungie: i didn’t know his name until you told me he was your best friend Hyungie: i’d been calling him mochi-cutie cause he was eating mochi when i first saw him Babybear: That’s so sweet hyung..  Hyungie: fuck i really fucked up didn’t i? Hyungie: Jin hyung slapped some sense into me but even then I didn’t want to listen Hyungie: he was right, i’m prioritising the wrong thing Hyungie: how can we celebrate our anniversary if he breaks up with me? Babybear: That won’t happen if you speak to him Babybear: Tell him honestly what you’ve been doing Hyungie: but.. the surprise Babybear: So tell him that Hyungie: i’m not following? Babybear: Sigh Babybear: Tell him you’re planning something for your anniversary, you can tell a white lie and say it’s for your dating one in June Babybear: Tell him about the party planner you hired and how you’ve been trying to sort everything yourself Babybear: And then, get on your knees and apologise for being so blind that you basically cut him out of your life and made him cry on my shoulder all night Hyungie: he did?? oh fuck fuckfuckfj  Babybear: No pity party Babybear: Sort this mess out Hyungie: you’re so grown up now it hurts my heart Babybear: Well one of us needs to be mature, don’t you think? Hyungie: mean Babybear: I love you hyung and this is very sweet of you to do Babybear: But don’t put a stupid party over the person it’s for Babybear: That’s kinda dunb Babybear: Think about how you can make it up to me later Babybear: Focus on your boyfriend who is so heartbroken and distraught he’s scared you’re gonna leave him for someone else Hyungie: my baby fuck i’m such an idiot Hyungie: i should have known he’d overthink  Hyungie: can you blame him?? with the way i’ve been acting fuck Hyungie: he should just dump me Babybear: Hey! Babybear: No pity party, remember? Babybear: You wanna throw away 4 years cause you’re being stupid? Go ahead Babybear: But if you’re ready to grow up and actually sort this then start kissing the ground he walks on and grovel at his feet for his forgiveness Babybear: And you’d better make sure you never miss a meal he makes you again Hyungie: yes Hyungie: fuck i wouldn’t just lay down and let him do that Hyungie: if he wanted to break up i’d fight with every inch of me to keep him Babybear: So why are you still talking to me? Babybear: Go fight for him dummy Hyungie: oh fuck, yeah Babybear: Wait! Hyungie: .. yeah? Babybear: Try not to fight him, don’t fuck this up Hyungie: i Hyungie: i’ll try not to Hyungie: please don’t curse it hurts my heart Babybear: Hurts your heart like how you hurt Jimin’s? ₍◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡ Hyungie: that emoji seems threatening Babybear: Because it is ♡(ŐωŐ人) Babybear: Don’t hurt my soulmate ever again  Babybear: Love you hyungie!! Hope you win him back （*´▽｀*） Babybear: Fighting! Hyungie: okay bear Hyungie: see you soon i guess..   Babybear: Also, as punishment Babybear: No cuddles for two weeks Hyungie: AH

Ah, my Xiao Ying, you want a story? Okay, Mama will tell you one. Hmm... let’s see... this is one my shizun once told me. Once upon a time, there was a lonely dragon who lived along a lonely river. It starts at the river.   There should have been nothing to it, really. It’s the same river it has always been- the small one that runs down from some mountain neighbouring the one the Cloud Recesses is built on, and the one that meets with a dozen others to form the flooded canals of Caiyi Town. Predictably, Wei Ying is late. Or, he had been on time, but had forgotten something back in the Jingshi, so he had said, and had left Lan Wangji by the riverside with a firm command of ‘stay put, darling, I’ll be back before you know it!’ and a wink before fluttering off. So, that leaves Lan Wangji there, by himself, waiting once again for a husband that he knows will surely come back to him now. So he is late. Well. It is some small consolation at least that Lan Wangji, ever meticulous, had decided that it would be best for them to leave early. So, assuming that Wei Ying returns in a timely fashion, they will, by all means, still make it to town on time. So Wei Ying is late, but they will not be late. Of a lack of more interesting things to look at, like husbands and their smiles, Lan Wangji casts his gaze to the river. It’s more a brook than anything, clear water tumbling over grey stones and brown riverbed, flowing steadily down the mountain until it meets with the main one. Tiny river grass sprouts from between pebbles and fallen branches, stirring gently in the stream. But as he stares, something there seems to take hold of him. He stares. And he stares. Distantly, part of him knows that it’s simply water. Water, present everywhere at the turn of his head in any direction. But the other, and the biggest part of him- The burble of the creek sings to him, loud, clear, carrying the stories of upstream down to sea. It washes over him in a wave of icy coldness, but not something uncomfortable. Cold as the Cold Springs, soothing as the wrap of Wei Ying’s arms around him. Home, somehow, but- All he knows is that there is something there that he must reach- “Uh, Lan Zhan, care to explain why you’re standing in the middle of the river?” -And it breaks. He glances up with a jolt. Wei Ying has returned, and he stands on the shore, peering anxiously over at him, though there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth that appears whenever he thinks Lan Wangji’s done something amusing, which is more often than not. With another jolt, he realises that he’s walked clean into the water, and it flows out and around his knees, leaving both his boots and the bottom of his robes soaking wet and vaguely brown with river silt. He returns to shore, and Wei Ying huffs out a laugh, pecking him on the cheek. He doesn’t comment on the pink of his ears peeking through his hair, nor does he press any further, only trying and failing to hide his smile. Water sloshes in his shoes with every step he takes, and with practiced ease, Lan Wangji allows himself to silently sigh on the inside. This won’t dry on time. They end up late after all. It happens, and because Wei Ying doesn’t question it any further, he forgets it, like he does with everything else that doesn’t have to do with food, a particularly interesting corpse, his husband, his children, and his brother. Eventually, Lan Wangji does too. So that should have been the last of it, except it isn’t. A week later, or thereabouts, they leave Gusu on one of their extended night hunting trips. “I wanted to take a trip! Just the two of us, just for a week or two, you know?” Wei Ying says to him loudly, from atop Little Apple. The donkey flicks one of its ears and brays disagreeably. Lan Wangji acknowledges him with a slight tilt of his head and Wei Ying continues, “I love you, and I love the kids, but I miss just having the two of us, like- Wei Ying and Lan Zhan against the world!… Well,” he pauses. “If the world was every resentful spirit under the sun and not all of jianghu, because I’ve had enough of that for both lifetimes.” Quite frankly, Lan Wangji is inclined to agree. After the first seven-odd times they had almost been interrupted, delayed or otherwise inconvenienced by ill-timed encounters with everything from junior disciples to the indignant yao, he had begun to develop a steadily growing urge to take time for the two of themselves, undisturbed. A second honeymoon would have been the most ideal, but that would require delegating their duties to others for far too long, and neither of them can afford that any currently. Case in point, even though both of them had jumped to take this assignment for a particularly stubborn infestation of walking corpses a few villages over, it had come at the cost of several pointed remarks and incessantly subtle nagging courtesy of one Lan Qiren, up until Wei Ying had rightfully pointed out that he would at least have a few nights of peaceful sleep instead of being kept awake by… certain noises. His tune had changed very abruptly then, and the incessantly subtle nagging had gone into more of the direction of subtly nagging them to leave, already, and why were they still here, and so on. So. After a day of preparation and making sure that all homework was assigned and all rabbits and their caretaking of was accounted for, Lan Wangji and Wei Ying had left the Cloud Recesses. “When was the last time we went out on a date like this?” Wei Ying says aloud, sending a sideways glance to Lan Wangji. Calling it a date seemed awfully reductive, and dealing with regular cultivator duties hardly seemed very romantic. But then again, whenever it was the both of them involved in things, there was always a certain shimmer of romance to it anyway. “Oh! Maybe that demon that one time? The one that was infecting the crops in that little village? We got so covered in plant guts after, and you told me I looked ridiculous, but you weren’t looking all that put together either.” Had it really been that long ago? That had surely been months ago. Maybe they really were long overdue for this expedition then. Just as long as it didn’t end up in the two of them covered in melon innards again. The smell felt like it had clung to their clothes for days afterwards, even after Lan Wangji had painstakingly washed them clean. Though,there was something about that statement that he felt was somewhat… off. “Hm,” He only says in response. “I find it hard to believe that I would find you any less than breathtaking, even as covered in plant matter as you so claim.” “W-Well, I- Maybe I lied a little bit! Maybe you said something like that last time too! I- I don’t really remember!” Wei Ying says hurriedly, quickly turning away and hiding his face behind his sleeve. His husband is so adorable when he blushes. Fortunately, Lan Wangji knows exactly what to say to get him to do so. “Anyway, that’s not the point! Let’s take a break, okay? My back kinda hurts, so I want you to give me a massage too.” “As you wish.” He replies indulgently, and lets Wei Ying lead the two of them and the donkey ahead to a nearby river. This is how it is meant to be- Lan Zhan, following Wei Ying, always and forever, to the ends of time and back, and nothing could ever change it. Little Apple’s first order of business when they reach the riverbank is to lower its head and drink, and the two of them let it do so in peace. Though he really doesn’t need any help getting off the donkey’s back on his own, Wei Ying still lets Lan Wangji help him do so, and he gets rewarded with a quick kiss on the lips for his trouble. “How very chivalrous of you, dear!” He says teasingly, and Lan Wangji allows a trace of a smile to slip onto his face. A conveniently placed large rock by the riverbank makes the perfect place for them to rest, the two of them taking a seat on it with Wei Ying tucked up against Lan Wangji’s side as they share a few oranges Lan Wangji had produced from his sleeves. After a brief moment digging in his own sleeves, Wei Ying comes up with a small knife for him to cut the oranges with, and Lan Wangji accepts it with a nod of gratitude. He looks out over the river as he works on slicing the oranges. It’s a little wider than usual, owing to light rainfall over the region in the past few days, but ultimately not something that most people would notice unless they were actively looking for it. Thankfully, there hadn’t been much accompanying winds, and the water was free of silt and dirt. Tiny, glittering fish dart just below the surface of the water, swimming in and out of the waving river-grasses while it flows steadily downward, and if Lan Wangji tries just a little more, there’s almost something like a voice calling- “Lan Zhan!” A sharp voice, lanced with concern cuts through his trance, and with a start, Lan Wangji glances down. Red gleams off the edge of the blade, and as if in reaction to his distraction, the pain hits him all at once- the sting of the orange juice seeping into his cut, and the pain of the cut itself. Careful hands prise the knife from his fingers, and take the one with the cut into their own. Wei Ying glances across at him, worry etched into his brow as he tilts Lan Wangji’s hand around, looking at the cut from different angles. He sighs, and flicks his eyes up to Lan Wangji. The worry still hasn’t left his gaze. “Well, it’s not deep, which is good.” He says, rising to his feet. He pulls Lan Wangji up with him, tugging him over to the side of the river. “Let’s clean it out and wrap it up.” He directs Lan Wangji to rinse out the cut in a deeper part of the river where the water is a little more fast flowing while he busies himself with digging around in their supplies for bandages. The faintest streak of pink blooms in the water around his finger when Lan Wangji dips it in, and then the current carries it away. It stops bleeding after a short moment, and he pulls his hand out, shaking off the droplets. Wei Ying flits over, a tiny roll of bandages in hand, and sets to dressing up the wound with far more urgency than Lan Wangji privately thinks is necessary, considering it had been only a minor cut and it would heal within the day anyway, but then again, it isn’t as if he would willingly turn down being doted on by his husband either. Wei Ying presses a kiss atop the bandages as he ties it off. “That’ll make it all better!” He says and Lan Wangji kisses him atop his head in return. “But, uh… Lan Zhan… is everything alright?” Wei Ying asks, crossing his arms. “It’s not like you to get distracted like that. Is there something on your mind?” Lan Wangji opens his mouth to answer, but stops. What… what had he been distracted by in the first place? Something…? With the… river? No, that couldn’t have been it. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “There is nothing. I was merely careless. Wei Ying need not worry himself.” “Hm.” His husband doesn’t seem altogether convinced, but he otherwise drops it, chewing slightly on his lip. “I can’t help but worry over you though.” “I am fine.“ “Well… alright then…” His gaze drifts over Lan Wangji’s shoulder, and it suddenly morphs into outrage. “Wh- Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing, you donkey?! Those are our oranges– Get away from them right now!” Lan Wangji blinks. In the entire incident with the cut on his fingers, he had almost forgotten about the oranges in the first place. However, it seemed as though the third member of their party hadn’t. A loud and drawn out bray rings through the air, along with Wei Ying’s cursing, and Lan Wangji huffs out a tiny laugh before turning around to head over to the squabble himself. The oranges were probably a lost cause, but that was alright. They could get plenty more another time. A week later, they returned from their solo expedition. In the end, it really had been as minor an incident as it had been made out to be, and clearing up the infestation had taken little more than a single day. Be as it may, neither were that frantic to return to the Cloud Recesses all that soon, it had been a number of days until they actually did so- which was just as well, because if they had returned even half a day later, they would have been subject to even more of Lan Qiren’s incessant lecturing on responsibilities, and what sort of ideas they had about time, and all other sorts of incredibly naggy statements that neither of them particularly enjoyed. By nightfall, they are both curled into each other’s arms, basking in the glow of simply being with the person they love the most, Wei Ying reaches up a hand to trace lightly over Lan Wangji’s jaw, coming to scritch under his chin. He hums contentedly to himself, tuneless but not discordant. “What do you dream about?” Wei Ying asks him. His eyes are half lidded with sleep and contentment, and his hair is softer than silk under Lan Wangji’s hands when he combs through it to pick through the tangles left by their earlier bouts of passion. “You,” Lan Wangji says, as easy as breathing. It’s not a lie. More often than not, that’s how it is. His husband’s sun-dappled smile haunts his dreams as much as it does his waking days, and he would much rather it be that than anything else. “What else?” “You’re incorrigible.” Wei Ying laughs, leaning up to kiss him lightly on the lips. “What about rabbits? Do you dream about those?” Lan Wangji considers it for a moment. “Sometimes,” he says, and the gravity in which he says it makes Wei Ying laugh again, light and airy, and clamp his hands over Lan Wangji’s mouth. “Don’t say anything else, gege, or I think my heart won’t be able to take it. Are you this cute on purpose, or are you just like this?” He says. Lan Wangji, of course, continues to say nothing, only content to let his husband laugh to himself. He dreams about the water. This is what he had not told Wei Ying, earlier, when he had asked, in part because he did not know completely himself, in part because some small part of him is afraid of what it could mean. There are things forgotten, which he remembers now, in the half remembered way that is true of dreams- fragmented, but with some parts as clear as a mountain brook and the rest as murky as churned up sand in the stream. When he was younger, he used to dream of the water. He could not have been more than five or six, bright eyed and innocent, unaware of everything that would come to befall him in the future. Back then, he still shared a room with his brother, and his mother was still alive to hold his hand and comb his hair. It was hard to say what of the water he dreamed of exactly, only that he did. Most of the memories had been washed away in the current, leaving only vague impressions like grooves in a dried riverbed. He must have told his mother about it at some point, because he remembers her laughing softly and kissing him on the top of his head. Is that so? My Zhanzhan, one day I’ll take you to Yunmeng, then, with all its rivers and lakes. It’s not quite like Gusu, but I’m sure you’d love it, she had said, listening to whatever he had to say with a warm embrace and an even warmer smile. She had indulged him then, because she had been around to do so. Then she had died, and Lan Wangji had stopped dreaming of water. Someone else had taken him to see Yunmeng instead, and though he would never give up those moments for anything, he could only wonder how she’d known that he’d fall in love with someone who was Yunmeng itself, free-spirited and as capricious as its rivers. The dreaming had stopped entirely, until now. When he dreams of it now, it feels like he is five again, and being taken down to the lakes and rivers of Caiyi and being shown the glittering water with the sun sparkling off the surface. A fish darts in between the waving fronds of lake grass, dipping in and out of the dark stems. A bird cries out in the distance, swooping down to the surface of the river to pluck out a feast for its chicks. The water laps at his feet, warmer than the Cold Springs but colder than cooling evening tea. This is how you swim, says one of the senior disciples teaching the class of young children, maybe, though the sound of their voice is indistinct and distorted, blurry as though underwater.  Put your arms out like this, and move them like this, and kick your legs like this. Don’t be scared. You’ll always be able to float. If you can’t, we’re here to help you. But I don’t need to do any of that to swim, he thinks, and is about to say so when he realises, and frowns. If not like that to swim, then, how? The water continues to flow around his ankles. Silly child, someone’s voice says to him gently, but when he looks around, he sees nothing but flowing water around him. To teach a being of the river and of the water to swim is to teach a wolf to howl at the moon. There is nothing that is to be learned, only that which you know to do. But how do I know how to do that? How do I know what it is that the water is trying to tell me? That’s easy, the voice replies. All you need to do is take a deep breath, dive down deep, and open your- “-eyes? Oi, Lan Zhan, wake up, you’re going to oversleep!” Lan Wangji blinks open his eyes. Wei Ying’s face is close to his own, eyes luminous against the silvery light of the morning. It’s far too early for him to usually be awake, and when Lan Wangji tells him that, a little dazedly owing to having just woken up, he laughs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry about me! I was just about to get some rest myself-” Which tells Lan Wangji all he needs to know about his husband’s bad sleeping habits, which is to say, he had fallen prey to them once again, and that later that night, he would have to use some… extreme measures to get him to sleep at night, rather than in the morning when quite arguably the entire rest of the clan was waking up for the day. His displeasure must show on his face, because Wei Ying laughs again, shifting back to take hold of Lan Wangji’s hands and pull him upright into a sitting position.   “You need to get ready for class, otherwise the juniors are going to wonder what’s happened to their Hanguang-jun to have him arriving so late! Unless,” he smirks here, and quirks his eyebrows. A telltale heat rises to the tips of his ears. “You’d care to make that a certainty for sure? I can think of one reason why he might be a little… ah… delayed...” Well. Perhaps there was a little time before he had to get ready. And he had been thinking about those… extreme measures after all. If he remembers anything of his dream at all, he certainly doesn’t after he pulls a very willing Wei Ying into his lap and swallows down his laughs with fervent kisses. Mama, that’s silly. How can a river be lonely? Yingying, Yingying, shh. That’s just how it is, okay? Once upon a time, there lived a lonely dragon along a lonely river. This dragon lived alongside a small village of humans, making sure that there would be rains to water their crops and making sure that the river would never flood its banks. In return, once a year, they would present offerings to the dragon as thanks. But what use did the dragon have for these offerings? Despite all that it was given, it was never given the one thing it truly desired. If the dragon was not feared too much, then it was respected too much. If it was not respected too much, then it was feared too much. And so, the dragon continued to live, lonely by the lonely river. Mama, that’s stupid. I would have been that dragon’s friend. Yingying, Xiao Ying, settle down. Your Mama hasn’t finished the story yet. One day, a clever young fox that was running away from wolves fell into the river. He had played a trick on them, you see, and all it was was simple fun to the fox. But the wolves felt otherwise. Angered, they chased that fox from their den to the high cliffs above the water, and with one wrong step, the fox fell into the river, still freezing cold from the last remnants of winter. Ah! Thought the fox. So I am to die today, it seems. If only I could have seen the moon one last time! This sorrowful regret swept down the river to the dragon. And, being as kind as it was, the dragon flew up the river at once and saved the drowning fox. “Wait.” Wei Ying suddenly stops in the middle of the road. He cuts himself off in the middle of a sentence, squeezes Lan Wangji’s hand where their fingers are twined together. Lan Wangji tilts his head at him, curious. Wei Ying’s brows furrow for a moment, and he glances around. They’re returning from a night hunt out on the Gusu border, and, on the principle of Wei Ying wanting to stretch his legs, or so he says, they had taken the time to start out the journey back on foot. Either way, Lan Wangji is simply content to indulge him in whatever he desires. But the landscape around them isn’t much to be impressed by. It’s a fairly beaten farm road, and when he glances to the left, green rice paddies and hunched over farmers dot the fields. It’s nice, perhaps, but nothing he hasn’t seen before. Still, there’s a certain sort of tranquility to be had from wandering there with his husband at his side that sets him at ease. At least, it normally would, but... He looks back at Wei Ying, who taps a finger to his chin, frowning slightly. “Can you... can you hear that?” Lan Wangji blinks. It’s indication enough to Wei Ying that whatever he had heard, Lan Wangji had not. His husband slides his attention to the thick scrub to their right, tilting his head slightly. “No no no, that’s not quite...” he mutters briefly to himself. In a few quick strides, he’s crossed the length of the road and slipped into the shrubbery that grows in abundance opposite the fields, giving Lan Wangji barely a moment to realise it before he follows after him. “-there!” As always, Wei Ying doesn’t care much for neatness or care as he weaves through the brush, never mind the fact that the one picking the leaves out of his hair and clothes—as well as cleaning the tiny scratches on his face and hands—is always Lan Wangji himself. Still, whatever had caught his attention must have been important. It usually was. The ends of Wei Ying’s hair ribbon is caught on a little tangle of bush, but he doesn’t seem to notice from where he’s crouched over something, hands held out placatingly. Lan Wangji untangles it for him when he catches up. He glances down to check what had caught Wei Ying’s attention, and blinks in surprise. There’s a fox. One of its hind legs and its neck are caught in a nasty tangle of rope, which in itself is tangled around the base tree trunk and a squat little sapling. The more it strains against its restraints, the more the rope tightens, and it whines piteously with each passing moment. “Oh, you poor thing,” Wei Ying murmurs, gazing unblinkingly at the fox. “Let’s get you out of that, shall we?” He hovers his hands awkwardly over its little body for a moment, seemingly unsure of where to begin. The rope is wrapped around itself in a way that means that it can’t be easily untangled, and the way that the fox shrinks away from his hands and hisses as best as it can isn’t helping. “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, and nothing else. It’s likely part of a trap set by the local farmers to stop foxes like these from sneaking in at night and killing all their chickens. Unfortunate, but only just how things were. On principle, he still would set the fox free from its bindings, but who was to say it wouldn’t get stuck again in the future, or cause trouble for the local farmers? Wei Ying inclines his head slightly as the only indication he’s heard. He gets like this when he’s focused and thinking, hundreds of ideas being built up and then discarded in his brain in the blink of an eye before it slowly settles on one or two that would work the best. It’s saved many a hide or hair in the heat of battle against resentful spirits and fierce corpses, but works just as well in planning his pranks, or even, helping injured and trapped animals it seems. Out of the two of them, it’s usually Lan Wangji who’s the better one with animals, as his handling of Little Apple and the rabbits can attest to. Here though, it wouldn’t make a difference, and he’s sure that the presence of two very big presences isn’t doing much to calm down the poor little creature. Quite the opposite, in fact. Wei Ying bites his lip. “Well…” he mutters to himself, and pulls back one of his hands, hovering the other one over its flank- then, with a slight moment of hesitation, over to its snout, letting it sniff cautiously at his fingers. It stares at him with narrowed eyes. Then, it licks tentatively at his fingers and stills. While there’s something still cautious in its eyes, it seems much more relaxed than before- or at least, less hostile. Tension melts off Wei Ying’s shoulders, and he sighs in relief. “Good, good, that’s… good. Lan Zhan, Bichen, if you please. It’s about time we get this poor dear out of these ropes.” That… was certainly a surprise. He had half expected the fox to bite at Wei Ying, as most distressed animals were fond of doing. For it to become so docile… Either way, he puts it out of his mind and unsheathes his sword as requested, crouching down beside his husband to place the blade against the ropes. It cuts through the rough strands as easily as it does against fierce corpses, and once he lifts it away from the fox, the creature shakes off the severed pieces of its restraints. “See? You’re perfectly fine!” Wei Ying says with a warm smile, holding his hand out to the fox, who then butts its head against his palm. “And cute, too! Hey, gege, who’s cuter? Me, or this little guy here?” At this, he reaches out to pick up the fox, settling it into his arms not unlike how he would a baby or very young child. A warning that the fox wouldn’t appreciate being suddenly picked up like that dies in Lan Wangji’s throat when the fox instead only swishes its tail and squirms slightly in Wei Ying’s hold to get into a more comfortable position, tilting its head up to lick at his chin. “Well?” Wei Ying asks him expectantly, quirking his eyebrows. Lan Wangji stares for a moment more before he shakes his head, sheathing his sword once more. “You are.” He says simply, and Wei Ying puffs up his cheeks, though they’re tinged pink in slight embarrassment. “How cruel! You’ll hurt his feelings! Come on, Lan Zhan, you have to admit, it’s a cute little thing, right?” “It is a wild animal, Wei Ying. Not a pet.” “Oh, psh.” Wei Ying scoffs lightly, raising a hand to scratch behind the fox’s ears. It purrs slightly in response. Lan Wangji stares at it doubtfully. Why did his husband have to do these things? It was all well and fine to free it from the ropes, but who knows where it had been? It probably had fleas. If those got into Wei Ying’s robes, it would get into Lan Wangji’s, and then the both of them would be itchy and miserable. “Don’t listen to him, Xiao-Huli. He’s a boring fuddy duddy and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” “Wei Ying.” Wei Ying clamps his hands over the fox’s ears and sticks his tongue out at Lan Wangji. “Lalala, my name is Lan Zhan and I’m sooo hot and sooo sexy as fuck but I’m sooo boring and everything I say is just boring stuff, lalala~” Lan Wangji stares at him flatly. He tries not to feel offended, but he does. Maybe. Just a little bit. The fox matches his own flat gaze with a glint in its dark eyes. The tip of its pink tongue pokes out from the side of its mouth.  “Are you done?” He says after a moment, and Wei Ying huffs slightly, pulling his hands away to scratch under the fox’s chin. Its eyes crinkle shut in pleasure, and another set of low purrs rumble from it. “I’ll be done when you say sorry to Xiao-Huli!” As if on cue, the fox opens its eyes just a crack, and if he didn’t know better, Lan Wangji would almost swear it was winking at him. The irritation prickling at the back of his neck grows just a little bit more. Calm down, take deep breaths, he thinks to himself. There were rules for these kinds of situations (Loosely. The rules also left many things up to interpretation. He’s sure this could be one of them.) and it would help to think of them now. “I am… sorry,” he says a little stiffly. Gods. What on earth was he doing, apologising to a fox? Never let it be said the lengths he would go to for his husband. “I will… endeavour to be more compassionate in the future.” Wei Ying beams. “There we go, er-gege! That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” If it meant seeing that smile, then Lan Wangji supposes, it really wasn’t. Just as long as he didn’t say- “Oh, I know! Why don’t we take this little guy back to the Cloud Recesses with us? The rabbits could use a friend, don’t you think?” -that. “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, letting a little bit of despair seep into his voice. “Please, do not. You cannot just bring this fox home. You know this.” There were a number of reasons that this was a bad idea, and he did not particularly want to have to say them all aloud. At the top of that list was that having the fox anywhere near the docile, well-fed rabbits of the Cloud Recesses was bound to end in disaster, somewhere in the middle was that the fox’s red-brown fur would stand out awfully against pristine Lan-white, and somewhere near the bottom was that he didn’t particularly look forward to the prospect of having to vy for his husband’s attention against the fox, who, unfairly, he felt like was winning right now. “But it’s so cute!” Wei Ying shifts his grip again and thrusts the fox up to Lan Wangji’s face. It yawns at him, pink tongue curling and flicking. He gently moves it aside with the back of his hand, staring down at his husband. “What happened to not denying me anything, huh? You wouldn’t do this for me?” That… Well. He really was becoming far too skilled at exploiting Lan Wangji’s weaknesses (Wei Ying himself) for his own good. Fine, then. Lan Wangji sighs. “If you truly insist, then the fox may accompany us until we reach the gates of the Cloud Recesses. But I cannot, in good conscience, allow it any further than that,” he states. For a moment, he thinks that Wei Ying would continue to protest in his cutely over-dramatic way, but instead, he smiles wryly, and shrugs. “Well, I tried,” he says, but he doesn’t sound particularly disappointed. “You’ll be fine by yourself though, hm, Xiao-Huli? Until then, Wei-gege’ll take care of you. And I’ll make this gege take care of you too!” He kneels down then, and the fox leaps from his arms to land gently on the ground. It shakes out its fur, and looks back at him, barking once. “We still have some time until we reach Caiyi, and the Cloud Recesses beyond that.” Lan Wangji says. “It’ll be fine.” Wei Ying waves a hand dismissively. “You’re worrying too much!” Worrying about what? That he wouldn’t know when to let the fox go, or that he would get too attached to a creature that would not stay? That the affection that he shows for it now would cause a dependency in it that would make it even harder for their eventual separation? All of those and more were extremely plausible. “Trust me!” Lan Wangji sighs again, but nods, if a little reluctantly. Far be it for him to lose faith in his husband over something as simple a matter as this. The fox continues to follow them even as night falls. Luckily, they both manage to secure lodging for the night in a barn, lent to them by a kind old couple who apologised for how substandard it was, despite Wei Ying’s insistence that it really wasn’t, and that it was plenty and just having a roof over their heads was enough for both of them, who, on principle, shouldn’t be too occupied by comforts anyway. Well, it was easy for him to say that. He could fall asleep just about anywhere, especially if that was on top of Lan Wangji, who, in situations like these, was treated as more of a mattress than a person. He only minded it a little bit. Love always required a little bit of sacrifice, after all. Even when his husband had been indulging himself with a little more food than was strictly allowed under the Lan Clan rules, and hadn’t been keeping up with his training. Not that Lan Wangji would ever admit that. (If he makes their ‘everyday’ appropriately more intense as a result, then the only person who would ever know the reason why would be himself.) “I think we’ll probably be home by tomorrow.” Wei Ying half says through a yawn, half dozing on Lan Wangji’s chest. A barn doesn’t nearly rank at the bottom of the list of most unusual, or the worst places to have sex, that they have, and with all things considered, it still could turn out to be a memorable experience in some strange, domestic homestead-y kind of way. And at the very least, the fox hadn’t been there to see it. Rabbits were one thing, but that fox might have been too much, even for someone like them. The fox itself had disappeared sometime after they had settled in for the night. Lan Wangji had suggested that it had decided to leave them to go on its own way, and Wei Ying was insistent that it hadn’t and had simply gone out for a night adventure. They had ended up making a bet on it, even though gambling was one of the things disallowed by the Lan Clan rules also. Then again, it had been a long time since Lan Wangji had seen them as anything other than suggestions, something to be selective with, or wanted to use to prove a point to his husband. Wei Ying had declared that if he won, Lan Wangji would make him whatever food he wanted for a week when they got back, and if Lan Wangji won… Well. It had made Wei Ying stutter and go bright red, but he didn’t outright shoot down the idea, so even if Lan Wangji lost—which he wouldn’t—there was always the possibility of doing it in the future anyway. He hopes he wins. If not for his reward, then at least to save him from his slow transformation into a jianbing via Wei Ying-ified flattening. “What will you do about the fox?” “So you’re acknowledging that I’m going to win our bet?” Wei Ying says a little smugly, and Lan Wangji rolls his eyes just the slightest amount. Here, in the dark and in between tall haystacks with only Wei Ying as witness, there isn’t anyone to care about impropriety. “Hypothetical scenario.” “Alright, if it makes you feel any better, keep telling yourself that, dear. Well, anyway… I was thinking we might kee-” “We are not keeping the fox.” Wei Ying huffs, but Lan Wangji refuses to let it sway him, even as slightly torn up as he felt about it. It really was for the best. “Only until we reach the gates.” He reminds his husband, and Wei Ying pulls a face that might have had more effect if it wasn’t currently half squished against Lan Wangji’s bare chest. “Wei Ying should sleep now.” “You’re no fun…” Wei Ying mumbles, but there isn’t any bite to it, and Lan Wangji knows it to be false otherwise, simply from the countless times where he had explicitly said that Lan Wangji was the most fun person to be around. “Sleep.” He says again, a little firmer this time, and wraps his arms fully around Wei Ying’s waist. “Fine… See you tomorrow, Lan Zhan…” “Mm. Good night.” Lan Wangji closes his eyes then, and lets himself drift off to the comfort of a warm weight on his chest. In the morning, Lan Wangji wakes up early, as usual, and asks to borrow the old couple’s bathtub. He politely, but firmly declines their offer of settling it for him, and instead decides to draw the water and fill the tub himself, bringing the water to a hot, but not boiling, temperature with a few well placed heating talismans. It isn’t that he has something against the couple, but more of the fact that he doesn’t feel wholly comfortable taking advantage of their generosity more than they already have, considering what happened in the barn last night. He does, however, accept their offer of providing them with breakfast before they set out once more, though he does have to somewhat apologetically let them know that that would depend on what time his husband wakes up. It’s around the time where he starts to take the water back to the tub that something red slinks into the corner of the field of his view. He turns, and sighs. The fox looks back at him, licking at its paw idly. A dead bird is at its feet, and judging from the bite marks around its neck, it hadn’t been killed too long ago and had been carried over. “Why did you come back?” he asks it. “Did you know I made a bet with Wei Ying? Were you determined to see me lose it?” Idly, he considers the benefits of chasing it away, and then lying to Wei Ying by pretending that he had never saw it and thus, winning their bet, but the thought is dismissed as fast as he thinks of it. For one, it would never work. Something told him that the fox would come back later in the day anyway, and he would sooner collapse under the guilt of this particular lie than keep the secret. So. Whatever happens… happens. Predictably, because he’s talking to a fox, it doesn’t answer him, and continues to stare at him, gaze almost judgmental. For a split second, he considers the possibility of the fox being a mind-reader before common sense all but slams back into him, in more ways than one. …What was he doing? Talking to foxes now? He doesn’t have time for this. He picks up his buckets, hefting them over his shoulder and heads back to the barn. He doesn’t turn to check if the fox is following, but from the flashes of red at the corner of his eye, it seems as though it is. The walk back to the barn is a quick one, and filling up the tub is just as quick. From his sleeve, he takes a few heating talismans and applies them to the tub, leaving it to gradually heat up. Onto the next matter of business… Lan Wangji eyes the fox, which has taken to sniffing curiously at one of the talismans stuck to the tub. At some point, it had gone on to eat some of the bird it had hunted, but hadn’t finished it. Evidently, it found the bathtub far more interesting. “Could you please take that somewhere else?” He asks, gesturing to the half-eaten bird. The fox’s ear flicks, but it doesn’t look back towards Lan Wangji, and it continues inspecting the talisman. Well, that was rude. He begins to reconsider the merits of shooing it off. For one- no more strands of red sticking to their clothes. For another, no unwanted spectators for their morning bath. But… he shakes his head and settles on neither. Well, maybe except for the second part. He isn’t exactly keen on being what felt like judged, by the fox, again, for what he did or didn’t do with Wei Ying. “Could you at least return later, then?” He tries again, and this time, the fox actually does turn its head to look at him. They stare at each other, unblinking, until the fox snuffs and turns away with a swish of its tail, picking up the last of its bird within its jaws. It trots off somewhere in the general direction of the vegetables, and Lan Wangji breathes a quiet sigh of relief before heading over to retrieve his husband. This part of the morning is rather the same as it usually is, with some minor differences owing to their unconventional location. Wei Ying starts coming back to himself sometime after the tenth kiss, and just about returns as Lan Wangji ties the last knot in his hair ribbon, combing out the slightly damp tresses. “Good morning,” Lan Wangji begins, and Wei Ying opens his mouth to reply when something behind Lan Wangji seems to catch his attention, and he perks up. The kiss that Lan Wangji tries aiming for his lips goes sideways and lands on Wei Ying’s cheek instead, who, insultingly (in Lan Wangji’s entirely unbiased and correct, opinion) does not return it, instead bouncing forward. “Ahaha! Lan Zhan! Look who it is!” Wei Ying smirks. “So much for your theory, huh?” It’s the fox, of course, because who else could it be? The fox in question, ostensibly now finished with its bird, walks forward to twine around Wei Ying’s legs like an overlarge cat. He bends down slightly to scratch behind its ears. “Yes,” He says a little stiffly. “It seems so, doesn’t it?” Wei Ying looks up, and something seems to occur to him. “Ah! You know what this means, then! I totally won our bet!” “You did.” “Ahaha!” Wei Ying walks back over to Lan Wangji, patting him on the head. Lan Wangji almost wants to protest that he isn’t a fox either, but instead averts his gaze. “You don’t have to sound like such a sore loser over it!” “I am not.” He says. Wei Ying tilts his head back down at the fox. “What do you think, Xiao-Huli? Do you think Lan-gege sounds like a sore loser?” Lan Wangji would rather not stay and let this particular line of conversation continue. He turns away hurriedly, and starts making his way back to the old couple’s house. “Breakfast is waiting.” “Ahh! No- I was just making a joke! Lan Zhan, wait for me!!” By late afternoon, Caiyi Town comes into view. After a simple breakfast of rice with eggs and preserved vegetables provided to them by the couple, they parted ways and continued on back towards the Cloud Recesses, the fox following along, much to Lan Wangji’s chagrin. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to want to cause too much trouble, nor did it get in the way too much, and other than Wei Ying now having two to chatter to rather than just one, things were relatively simple.   They pass through Caiyi, with the fox sniffing the air carefully but managing to avoid falling in the canals. A few of the townspeople call out to them in greeting, recognising them from their frequent trips down the mountain, and they get some number of curious looks at the fox accompanying them, but at long last, they approach the foot of the mountains at the Cloud Recesses, and it’s there that they finally stop for the moment. Wei Ying crouches down to face the fox, and it tilts its head back at him quizzically. “This is where we say goodbye, Xiao-Huli. Though the time we spent together was short, it was also memorable.” He says a little solemnly, reaching out a hand to ruffle its fur and give it a scratch behind the ears. “Safe travels, my friend. Don’t get caught in any more traps now, you hear?” He bounces back to his feet. The fox continues to look at him. For a moment, Lan Wangji almost thinks that it would hardly know the meaning behind Wei Ying’s words, but a beat passes, and the fox barks once before turning away and bounding into the foliage, the red of its fur disappearing into the underbrush. He watches it go, and strangely, a strong sense of melancholy passes through him before it disappears, just as suddenly as it had come in the first place. He shakes his head slightly, and holds out a hand to Wei Ying, who takes it, slotting his fingers between Lan Wangji’s own. “You know, I felt like that fox was really smart. Like it knew what we were saying, right?” Wei Ying says to him a little later, as they climb the path up the mountain, tucking his hands behind his head. He gives a sideways glance towards Lan Wangji. “Did you think so too?” Lan Wangji hums non-committedly. It hadn’t been as though he had been paying particular attention to it, nor had he had much experience with foxes, but he had to agree that there was something about it that made it seem especially intelligent. He says as much in his following hum, which is to say, less ‘saying’ and more ‘expressing’, though he hardly needs any words for his husband to understand his meaning. Wei Ying sighs. “Well, no use wondering about it any longer. It’s probably long gone by now, off chasing sparrows and the like. Let’s just chalk it up to another interesting day in the life of Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, okay?” “Perhaps that is for the best,” Lan Wangji replies evenly, curling an arm around Wei Ying’s waist and pulling him a little closer. “I’ll kind of miss it, I think,” Wei Ying pokes Lan Wangji in the ribs, gently. “And you can say you’ll miss it too! It’s only us here right now. You’re not gonna lose any face by admitting that.” Lan Wangji chooses not to comment on the matter, but it seems Wei Ying doesn’t feel like dropping it just yet, and he pats Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Come on, gege,” he says coaxingly. “Make all the excuses you want, but don’t think I didn’t notice you going all soft on Xiao-Huli a few times, hm?” Which were moments of weakness, and Lan Wangji has half a mind to tell him that, but thinks better of it in the end, and wisely decides to keep his mouth shut, instead humming something that could be taken as either agreement or denial. If it really were feasible, he would probably have let Wei Ying keep taking care of the fox, but there were too many things to account for that to happen. The rules that disallowed it, the rabbits… No, there were too many complications. “Fine then, be that way,” Wei Ying says, but he sounds amused more than anything. He lets out a content sigh. “Ah, it’s nice to be home! Lan Zhan, make me something special tonight! I won our bet after all! We have to celebrate a little! I want…” The topic of the fox dropped for the moment, his husband instead begins to detail a list of dishes he wants that a few days of travel on the road couldn’t provide. It was far too many to make on a single day, so of course, Lan Wangji would need to spend the next few days doing so, a week, at the very least, as was the conditions stipulated in their bet, and that there was a very willing taste tester present to make sure that his skills hadn’t deteriorated in the short time he had last used them, and so on; there is a practised ease where Wei Ying says anything and everything on his mind, and Lan Wangji listens, for no other reason than the fact that he loves to do so. That, at the very least, is something Lan Wangji can do.   When the fox opened its eyes, the first thing it saw was something round and glowing brightly. Ah, how fortunate I am to have seen the moon, it thought. Now I can die in peace. But this was not the moon, and the fox did not have to die. Grasped in the dragon’s claws, the fox had caught a glimpse of the dragon’s pearl- the same one that it had used to calm the raging river so that it could save the fox. The dragon brought the fox back to its home, passing energy to the exhausted fox to heal it. When the fox woke, it was amazed to find that it was still alive, and even more than that, its saviour was the dragon of the lonely river! Master Dragon, I cannot thank you enough for saving this lowly one’s life! The fox expressed , arching into a bow in gratitude. There is no need for thanks, returned the dragon. Go now, and be well. Be wary of the river in the future. The fox did not leave just yet. But Master Dragon, this one now owes you a life debt! How could I ever possibly repay it? Is there anything you wish for? This one shall provide as best as this one can! But what could a fox give that the dragon did not already have? Mama, didn’t the dragon want a friend? Shh, I’m getting to that part, Xiao Ying. Already, the dragon knew. Though it longed for a companion, how could it ever trap the fox here? How would it ever know that the fox wished to be here, or merely remained to pay off a debt? Thus, the fox could never stay. There is nothing, said the dragon. I have no need and no desire but for your wellbeing. There must be something! cried the fox. Whatever it is you desire, even if you believe you do not possess one, I will find it and give it to you! The fox stayed with the dragon for a day longer until it departed. On the night before it was to leave, the fox invited the dragon out to the river. Carrying the fox on its back, the dragon followed the course of the river out to the part where it was the most still. What did you wish to say? The dragon asked, and the fox would smile, pointing to the moon and the stars above, then to the surface of the water, on which the reflection of the night sky shone brightly. The dragon was lost for words. In all its time living there, it had never seen a sight as beautiful as this- And yet, it should have been something that it had seen countless times. I am to leave to-morrow, said the fox. But it is my sincerest desire for you to look up at this sky and remember the time we have spent together. If you find yourself missing my presence, you need only to look up to the skies above and know that I too, am looking at the same sky and thinking of you. They remained there for a while longer before returning to the dragon’s home. And, in the morning, as it said it would, the fox left with a final farewell. Although the dragon was saddened to see it go, it knew that it was for the best. And so, it resigned itself to its loneliness once again. The chance of the fox returning, it knew, was almost none. Yet, could it not hope? Wei Ying is out on a trip. He’s headed to Yunmeng, and the only reason Lan Wangji isn’t accompanying him this time is because with Lan Xichen still half in seclusion, he is, more or less, still Acting Sect Leader, and with the Discussion Conference looming on the horizon and the Lan Sect set to host it, responsibility falls to him to settle the last affairs. Well, that, and the fact that he still hasn’t quite gotten over what had happened the last time he and Jiang Wanyin had been even remotely near each other. It had involved no less than five jars of wine, a string of dried chillies, a duck, a dog, and two bribes to Nie Huaisang to diffuse the political meltdown about to happen. Wei Ying finds it endearing, if not a little frustrating, most of the time. Lan Wangji does not. This is one of a small number of things that they are still working on. It’ll be resolved one day. One day far, far in the future. “Maybe it’s for the best that you’re staying here this time,” Wei Ying had said to him on the morning of his departure. Lan Wangji had given him a flat look, mixed with the ‘Wei Ying is Going Away Again (But Only For A Little While) and I Cannot See His Beautiful Face Until He Returns To Me’ look. Wei Ying had only laughed at him, and leant up to pat him on the head. Lan Wangji had tried to maintain his composure, but the fluttering in his heart at the sound of his husband’s laugh does little to help. “Oh, come on, er-gege, don’t look at me like that! If I give you a kiss, will you give me a smile? You look beautiful when you smile, you know.” “I have nothing to smile about in my life,” he had said. “My husband is leaving me for another man.” “Did you have to say it like that?” Wei Ying had replied, rolling his eyes and patting his head again. “It’s only for a few days. Well, a week. But it’ll be a really short week! I’ll be back before you know it!” “Mn.” “You’re being incredibly dramatic, dear.” Wei Ying had lifted his hand to cup Lan Wangji’s face. “Are you really that desperate to keep me here?” He had taken hold of his husband’s hand in turn. “I miss you dearly for every moment that we are separated,” he had recited dutifully and truthfully. “Know that my heart yearns for your presence and that I will eagerly await the day that we will be reunited.” Wei Ying’s face had gone quite a lovely shade of red at that, and he had snatched his hand back after a moment of dumbfounded silence to cover his face, only peeking out between his fingers to glance at Lan Wangji.  “I- uh- Lan Zhan!! You- I- why! I keep telling you!! You need to give me a warning!! When you say things like that!!” He hadn’t resisted when Lan Wangji had pulled him closer to press a kiss to his temple though, instead giving a final sounding, fond sigh. “I- oh, never mind. How about this? When I come back, you can…” -and then he had turned his head to whisper certain things in Lan Wangji’s ear that had the tips of them assuredly turning bright red, and when he had reached out for his husband, Wei Ying had flounced away from his hands with a light peal of laughter and a blown kiss, tugging an irate Little Apple after him as he began his descent down the mountain. So. Husbandless, slightly brotherless, and also sonless, owing to an impromptu scheduled visit to Baling by invitation of the Ouyang heir, Lan Wangji finds himself at a little of a loss, which is odd, considering that he never was much of a people person, and yet- Well. There was always his uncle. But moments spent between the two of them alone always seemed to devolve into some long-winded lecture on his uncle’s part on some obscure historical detail that left Lan Wangji wondering whether his uncle realised that he was grown now and not one of his students anymore, or worse, enough subtly unsubtle remarks about the inadequacy of Wei Ying as his spouse to leave him sufficiently incensed for the rest of the day, only now there would be no doting husband to lift his mood. Because he was in Yunmeng. With another person who also had the tremendous power to leave him feeling more than slightly irritated. He has the slightest inkling that this bad mood might persist for the rest of the day, and would quite certainly do so if he had to look over any more inane correspondence from allied sects beyond Gusu regarding the upcoming Discussion Conference. Maybe he ought to take a break, like Wei Ying always pestered him about. Besides, fresh air might do him well. With a sigh, he carefully cleans the last of the ink from his brush, setting it back into its place alongside the rest of the set. The last of the marking, and the dreaded correspondence could wait for later. From there, it’s only a matter of taking a quick moment to make sure his appearance is neat and orderly before stepping out of the Jingshi, shutting the door quietly behind him. The sun is beginning to descend when he casts a brief glance up to the sky, a slight shadow of twilight already beginning to creep its way over the Cloud Recesses. He looks up to the sky, the setting sun, the drowned-blue of the sky and thinks of his husband- is he, too, watching the same sky, thinking also of Lan Wangji? In Yunmeng, the waters of the rivers and lakes would burn a bright gold when the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. Then, at night, if the weather was clear and the moon was high, the stars would come out, and on the perfectly still waters it would mirror the divine skies above, a dark sheet of star speckled brilliance- transient, yet eternal at the same time. There was nothing like that in Gusu. It was one of the things Wei Ying had said he’d missed, early on in their marriage. He had spoken of it wistfully and fondly, and there had been a somewhat distant look in his eyes- the one that often was accompanied by thoughts of the late Jiang Yanli. It had only been that one time that he had brought it up, because not long after that, he had said that there were other beautiful things in Gusu that he could let his eyes wander to, and he had directed a rather salacious smirk at Lan Wangji that left no question as to what ‘beautiful things’ he was referring to. The thought sits a little oddly in his stomach now. For all the times that he’d been to Lotus Pier since then, and Yunmeng as a whole, there had always been something that prevented Wei Ying from showing those star-stained rivers and lakes to him. He had eventually forgotten about that desperate longing to see it and share in something that Wei Ying cherished so deeply, because compared to the other bright memories that they were making in their day to day, it seemed like it was barely anything. So, he still hadn’t seen what it was like at night. But, for some reason, he could picture it perfectly in his mind’s eye. It’s… more disconcerting that he cares to admit. Perhaps it was because Wei Ying had that way with words. In another life, he could have been the finest storyteller, weaving words in exchange for coins. As it stands, all he does these days with that skill is to trick children into having them believe that made up monsters exist and to whine exaggeratedly to Lan Wangji about the smallest of inconveniences. But, it’s his skill to do as he pleases with, and as someone who has never been particularly verbose, Lan Wangji knows to appreciate it, even if isn’t used as it should be sometimes… most of the time. It had been quite a while though. Was it truly the case that a description from once upon a time was enough for him to visualise it perfectly? Lan Wangji’s foot catches on an uneven stone, and he blinks. In front of him stands a familiar cottage. Lost in his musings, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had brought him to this spot until he found himself standing before it. A slight breeze rustles the wisterias that hide away the little cottage from the rest of the Cloud Recesses. A moment caught in time, perhaps, he thinks- the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. It seemed like only yesterday that he was here, waiting for the day that that door would open up and his mother would usher him in. Eventually, that day would stop coming to pass. Still, even if the cottage’s past resident no longer lived within its walls, he was sure that the door would still open up for him. Perhaps this would be the first step to finding out some answers. Or, at the very least, a place where he could begin to clear his head. The walk up to the door is nostalgic, if a little bittersweet. The wisterias are smaller than he remembers, but back then, he was much smaller as well. There were simply too many memories associated with this place, both happy and sad, for it to be anything less. Especially now. Lan Wangji hesitates for a slight moment when he arrives at the door. Perhaps… Perhaps this was a bad time. It was out of their usual schedule after all, and for someone like him who was hardly prone to acts of spontaneity, it would only worry the person he meant to visit. That’s no way to go about things, er-gege! The phantom of his husband’s voice speaks into his ear. Come on, just do it! You’re overthinking it too much! Unexpected or not, he’ll still be glad to see you! Well. That’s what Wei Ying would say if he were there. So, before he can truly overthink it, and before he can leave and regret it, he raises his hand and raps neatly on the door. For a moment, there’s no response. Then- “Just a moment, I’ll be right there-!” A voice floats out from behind the door, and when it opens with a quiet rattle and a soft patter of footsteps, Lan Xichen peers out from behind it, blinking at him. “Oh, Wangji, it’s you?” Lan Wangji pauses in his prepared response. “...Were you expecting someone different?” He finally says, tilting his head fractionally. “Ah, oh no, not at all.” His brother says hurriedly, stepping aside and gesturing for Lan Wangji to come in with a small, slightly strained smile. “I just didn’t expect you to come by at this time. There’s still quite a few days before I was expecting you, but no matter. Please, come in, have a seat, I’ll get some tea ready. I’ll join you shortly.” Lan Wangji steps in with a slight dip of his head in thanks, quietly stepping out of his shoes before heading further into the house. After the incident at the Guanyin temple in Yunping all those years ago, and several unpleasant truths had come to light, Lan Xichen had formally announced he would be entering seclusion to reflect on the events that had come to pass. He at least had had the forethought to delay it until Lan Wangji had returned from his honeymoon, and gotten decently used to the duties of Sect Leader, though in name and in authority, the First Jade of Lan was still the leader of the sect. He had moved into this little residence, where their mother used to live, away from the Hanshi, citing that it was geographically more secluded and therefore more peaceful and more conducive to his reflections, which wasn’t untrue, but did not exactly leave Lan Wangji brimming with confidence. This place, as much as he wished to deny it, still had been a prison, and the meaning of his brother moving into a place where things- or people- were left to wither and fade away, was not lost on him. Neither was the suspicion that this would also be quietly considered as a self-inflicted punishment for being too idle about the brewing animosity between his sworn brothers. Either way, Lan Xichen had moved into their mother’s old home and begun to make it his. Progress had been slow, but the more time that passed, the more that Lan Xichen seemed to be doing better for himself, and Lan Wangji had let those concerns worrying away at his mind fade away to the background- not entirely gone, but not entirely accepted either. Only something to be aware of, and to prepare for if need be. Lan Xichen himself was already half out of seclusion now, and it was probably only a matter of time before he was ready to resume leadership fully, even if there were some things that couldn’t be healed. As Lan Wangji walks into the main room, he notices that there’s a new wall scroll hanging on one of the far walls- an ink sprawl of some landscape or another. It’s tasteful, in a way, if not a little familiar in its strokes. He wonders where he’s seen the style before. His brother catches his curious gaze when he glances at him, emerging from the tiny kitchen area with a clay tea set on a small tray in his hands. “Oh, that?” Lan Xichen smiles again, though it’s still a little strained. “A gift from Sect Leader Nie. It was only recently that I received it.” Ah. That would explain it. He certainly had seen enough of the same style of paintings on  Nie Huaisang’s fans when he chose to flick them open during Discussion Conferences in order to avoid answering questions about how the sect was faring. For someone who was in talks to become the next Chief Cultivator, he was startlingly adept at being elusive. He shrugs slightly as Lan Wangji busies himself with pouring out the tea. He starts the tiniest amount when he realises they’re the same cups that their mother used to use, but if his brother notices at all, he doesn’t comment on it, instead sighing slightly and folding his hands in his lap. “It seemed like it would be rude to return it, especially since he said it was something he painted himself. All that wasted effort.” Lan Xichen shakes his head. “No, I thought it would have been better to simply hang it up. Goodness knows this house needs a little decoration, hm?” Things like these still came in every now and then. Odd little trinkets or another that were sent over from Qinghe, usually addressed to either Lan Xichen or Wei Ying, and even rarer still to Lan Wangji himself, though that only extended to personal gifts and most assuredly not administrative correspondence, of which there was often far too much. Wei Ying may have forgiven him for his tricks for the most part, and largely, so did his brother, but Lan Wangji has never been the best with grudges;it is only at his husband’s insistence and sometimes not so subtle reminders that were it not for him, they would likely not be enjoying their domestic marital bliss currently that he does not exude an aura of disdain as he does for Jiang Wanyin. He tolerates Nie Huaisang at the least, and can be cordial to him at the most, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking that the Nie Sect Leader is someone that should only be spoken to when necessary. Unfortunately for the both of them, when necessary actually comes to mean ‘far too often’. Still, the painting had not been sent to him, so Lan Wangji says nothing and keeps his thoughts to himself. It’s his brother’s to do with as he sees fit, and he has to respect that. “That’s enough about that, though.” Lan Xichen says brusquely, ending the discussion on the subject. He reaches for his own tea, bringing it up to his mouth to blow lightly across the surface to cool it. “Have you been well, Wangji? Are you taking proper care of yourself?” These are the things that he asks every time. Lan Wangji shouldn’t be surprised though. At this point, it had to be instinctual- to check up on his baby brother’s wellbeing, because if he didn’t, then nobody else would. Only in the past few years had it started to become the other way around. “Mn.” He gives a nod, and instead tilts his head slightly. Lan Xichen sees it for what it is- an inquiry after his own health, and he gives a short laugh, though it still sounds a little hollow. “Ah, me? Well, as well as I could be I suppose…” He takes a sip of his tea, and glances away, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with Lan Wangji’s gaze. “I wouldn’t want you to worry about me though. I’m fine, really.” Something in his posture must radiate disapproval though, because no sooner than he says that does his brother finally flick his gaze over to Lan Wangji. He smiles sheepishly. “No, really, there’s no need for that look.” He says. Lan Wangji continues to look at him flatly. “I’ve been in good health lately, and the weather is pleasant enough. I’ve been taking small walks around the house in the morning and in the afternoon. Walking around in the sun every now and then really does feel more cleansing than some of the songs we play sometimes. Perhaps you should try it sometime with- ah?” He blinks, as if only just noticing that Lan Wangji was in fact alone and not accompanied by his husband. “Wei Ying is currently visiting Sect Leader Jiang in Yunmeng, but with the Discussion Conference approaching soon, he thought it would be more prudent for me to remain here and finalise the preparations.” Lan Wangji says smoothly, already anticipating the question about to emerge from his brother’s lips. Lan Xichen smiles wryly. “Ah pity, I was hoping to hear some tales of what you’ve been up to since the last time we met that you’re too embarrassed to tell me yourself.” He says, and the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears heat up slightly. “But instead, you’re slacking off and visiting your brother, hm?” Lan Wangji sends him another flat look, and his brother lifts a hand to his mouth, chuckling slightly. It does sound more genuine though, so Lan Wangji chooses not to comment on his teasing, if only for the sake of the slight happiness it brings him. For now. “Ahaha, forgive me.” Lan Xichen waves a hand airily. “Your brother’s only teasing you a little, after all. You know you’re welcome to come by anytime. Just as long as you don’t tell the elders. I know this isn’t quite a normal seclusion, but it’s not like it’s in the rules, and I wouldn’t say they have the right to exactly enforce them either.” It hadn’t been a normal seclusion from the start, where Wei Ying had stubbornly insisted on visiting at least once a week, despite the purpose of seclusion being that of retreating from the worries and woes of the mortal world in order to focus on oneself, because ‘Lan Zhan, we can’t just let him stew in his own sadness in there! Take it from me, who’s been there- nobody should have to be alone when they’ve gone through something like that!’ and had snuck in even when Lan Xichen had originally turned all visitors away aside from the people coming to bring his meals. Sneaking in had ended up becoming a regular thing, and soon, Lan Xichen had been forced to accept that perhaps, Wei Ying wasn’t as bad an influence on his beloved baby brother as he previously thought, nor was he someone who was completely undeserving of him either, and with that, it had not only been Wei Ying who was sneaking in, but Lan Wangji as well, who had faced it with equal parts reluctance out of respecting the rules of seclusion but also an overwhelming concern to make sure that his brother was doing as well as he could with everything that had happened. Conversation from there flows on to other mundane topics, like the state of affairs in the Cloud Recesses, how the juniors were doing, and other small numbers of things. It leaves Lan Wangji at a slight loss- between him, his brother, and his husband, he was the one that spoke the least, leaving Wei Ying and Lan Xichen to largely converse about things, with him only adding input when he felt necessary. Without Wei Ying there as a buffer though, he finds himself speaking more than he had done in quite a while. “I was a little concerned to see you turn up so suddenly today at first, but I certainly won’t complain.” Lan Xichen eventually says. “I almost wondered if there was another emergency. Perhaps your husband’s experiments went wrong again and made all the rabbits ten times their normal size and now the entire Cloud Recesses is overrun with them.” “Brother…” Lan Wangji returns, somewhat exasperatedly, and Lan Xichen waves a hand. “In any case, I’m glad to see you’re doing well and that there aren't any pressing matters that require my attention or assistance.” He continues. “Being a little more impulsive, in your case, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Doing what you feel like doing isn’t a bad thing, Wangji. Maybe it’s something of Wei Wuxian’s that’s rubbed off on you.” Was it? It would make sense if it did, though Lan Wangji can’t say that he feels especially like he’s become a more impulsive person. He’s content with leaving the risk-taking to his husband, and then for himself the inevitable dealing with the consequences of those said risks. “Hm…” “Was there anything else, Wangji? You’ve told me about how Sizhui is doing, and how the rabbits are, but I’m sure that there’s still more you haven’t told me.” There really wasn’t that much more. Anything beyond that would end up devolving into aimless anecdotes about how Sect Leader Yao and Sect Leader Ouyang seemed to be going through a rough patch, as the latter’s son saw fit to relay to his friends, who then saw fit to relay it to Lan Wangji himself, or the slightly more mortifying anecdotes about the things that he and Wei Ying got up to in their spare time, which he would never tell anyone else about on principle and especially not his brother. But then, he thinks back to earlier that day, and his doubts over the knowing the starlit Yunmeng, and even further back, to when he kept catching himself lingering over the river, and something within him whispers, you haven’t told anyone about this. And he hasn’t. Maybe Wei Ying suspects, maybe he doesn’t, but Lan Xichen doesn’t know at all, and Lan Wangji did resolve to begin investigating what this newfound obsession was. So at first, he hesitates slightly, but his need to know wins out in the end. “Actually...” His brother tilts his head quizzically at him. “Yes? What is it, Wangji?” “...When I was younger,” he starts, and stops, somewhat at a loss for words. He’s certain that his brother would treat it with the gravity that he does any other thing between the two of them, as he has done all their lives, but Lan Wangji isn’t quite sure how to describe it in such a way that makes sense to himself, let alone his brother. “When I was younger,” he tries again. “Was there anything unusual with… water? Or rivers? That happened to me?” Lan Xichen blinks at him, gaze turning contemplative. He traces the rim of his now empty cup with the tip of his finger. It feels like an eternity before he speaks again, long enough for Lan Wangji to start thinking that perhaps asking was too foolish a question and that his brother would simply say that nothing like that ever happened- “Ah… now that you mention it, I do seem to remember…” Lan Xichen says, and Lan Wangji blinks. His fists clench in his lap before he consciously exhales, unclenching them. “Well, I suppose it’s a little silly, but you’re asking about it, so you must want to know for a reason. My goodness, it really has been such a long time-” “Brother, please.” “Oh, yes, my apologies.” Lan Xichen coughs slightly. “You’ll have to forgive me if my memory of this isn’t quite accurate, but If I recall correctly, there was one such… ah, incident that seems to be what you’re asking about.” Lan Wangji waits. “Only, I wouldn’t quite call it an incident as more of an… observation.” Lan Xichen folds his hands in his lap, gathering his thoughts. “When you were younger…” He starts evenly,“You loved the rain, but you hated storms. You weren’t afraid of them, so it wasn’t hate in that sense, but there was always something about them that made you grievously upset, and you never told us why.” Lan Wangji blinks. He… hated storms? How could that be the case? There was very little that Lan Wangji could say that he hated. When his rabbits fell sick, or when his husband was upset, but certainly not storms, and he could think of no particular reason why he would hate them so. Lan Xichen hesitates slightly before he continues. “Actually, on that night that Mother…” Lan Wangji knows exactly which night he was talking about. He wouldn’t be able to forget it in any shape, way or form. “You passed out not long before dawn broke.” Lan Xichen continues. He pauses, clearly deliberating his next words. “Uncle was furious, but he was worried too. We all were. You were so young, and even though your cultivation, as little as it was, was promising, there wasn’t any one of us who didn’t expect you would get sick after it.” That made sense. There had been countless times in the past, after A-Yuan had fully recovered from his initial fever, where he had stayed out in the cold too long and had come down with a chill the day afterward. It had always worried him to no end every time it happened, and he took after his uncle more than they both cared to admit. “But… you were fine.” Lan Wangji stills. “When we took you back inside, you weren’t cold at all. Even when we kept a careful eye on you for the next few days, there wasn’t even a sign that you had caught a chill of any kind, even when by all means, you should have.” Lan Xichen continues slowly. That… certainly was unusual. He isn’t quite sure what to make of it just yet. He keeps hoping it might have been a fluke, even though a voice that sounds suspiciously like Wei Ying’s insists that from all the evidence, there must be a connection between it all that couldn’t be explained away by coincidence. “On that day, it was like the snow just... chose not to fall on you. Or... if it did, it didn’t affect you. At all.” Lan Xichen sighs, and sets down his teacup. He folds his hands in his lap. “Maybe it had melted. Maybe it didn’t. There wasn’t any sign of water, I remember that clearly enough as well.” He says softly. “When you woke up the next morning, and with everything else that happened with Mother, we didn’t have the heart to ask you about it, if you knew anything at all. I’d actually forgotten until just now, actually.” He smiles then, a little wistful, a little bitter. It’s a look that Lan Wangji has come to greatly dislike seeing on him, especially since it seemed that every time he visited his brother lately, it had appeared at least once by the time the visit was over. Lan Xichen shakes his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite remember if there was much else other than this one thing. You could ask Uncle though- he might remember something.” If he could avoid it, he would rather not, but Lan Wangji supposes that it’s a logical course of action. He decides to take the advice for now and think on it. “Mn. Thank you.” He says in response, offering a slow nod to his brother. A flash of thoughtful concern makes its way across Lan Xichen’s face, and he frowns slightly. “It’s curious that you would bring this up now though, of all times.” He says. “Is everything alright?” That… was a good question. Was everything alright? There was nothing wrong with his health, and he and Wei Ying were as happy as they ever were. The juniors were proceeding well with their studies and cultivation, and aside from the headaches that administrative work brought him and the perpetual worry that plagued him concerning his brother’s wellbeing, there was nothing that could constitute as not alright. The only thing was the dreams, the way that his eyes and his thoughts lingered on the river, and... “I… believe so.” He finally says. Lan Xichen doesn’t look convinced, but he sighs, and doesn’t push the issue further. “You’d tell me if something wasn’t, yes?” He claps his hands together slightly. “If it’s within my power, I’ll help you how I can.” “...Of course. Thank you, brother.” Lan Xichen nods approvingly. “Good. Tell me if you need anything. I might not be completely out of seclusion yet, but there are a few things that I can do still. Now, it’s gotten to be somewhat later than I expected, so do you want to stay for dinner, or have I been boring you for too long?” It’s with a small start that Lan Wangji realises the truth of the statement. Only a tiny sliver of daylight remains, with the night swallowing up the last dregs of the day. With all things considered, he doesn’t exactly feel very hungry either. “Thank you for the offer, but I believe I should take my leave.” Lan Xichen seems to deflate slightly at his words, and Lan Wangji tries to push away the pang of regret that sweeps over him. “Thank you for the tea and for your insight. I will return again soon. Wei Ying will have returned by then as well.” “...Of course, of course. Don’t let me keep you.” His brother waves a hand at him, and the regret intensifies. Lan Wangji resolves to make it up to him another time. He makes to leave. His shoes are at the door, where he left them, and staring at them makes him almost wish he had accepted his brother’s offer of staying for dinner after all. Maybe it wasn’t too late- “Ah, one more thing before you go.” Lan Wangji pauses in the doorway, turning back to look one last time at his brother. Lan Xichen looks at him for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Wangji... whatever it is you’re trying to find out... please be careful.” He says softly. I don’t want to lose you too, goes unspoken. Lan Wangji swallows. “...I will.” He says, dipping his head in farewell before turning and quietly exiting the house amongst the wisterias. He came looking for answers, but he’s found that he’s farther than ever from getting any. The only thing he had was even more questions, and no certain way of answering them. What was it that his brother had said? To go ask his uncle about it? The evening air is rather cool when he steps outside of the house and back into the Cloud Recesses. No doubt, it would be about the right time for most of the clan to be having dinner, and his uncle would be no exception. His brother hadn’t been, either. Now probably wasn’t the best time for him to go ask after his uncle then. If Wei Ying was here, then the two of them would most certainly have been enjoying dinner together as well. Lan Wangji would have come up from the kitchens with the food for both of them, and simply from hearing the sounds of his footsteps coming up to their door, his husband would have called out his name enthusiastically. “Lan Zhan!” Something quite like that, he muses. Did he really miss Wei Ying so much that he was hallucinating his voice now? “Lan Zhan! Hello? I know this is the Cloud Recesses, but that’s no reason to keep your head there too!” Lan Wangji blinks. For a hallucination, it certainly sounded incredibly realistic. So realistic, in fact, that he almost would have thought… He looks up, and his breath catches in his throat. “Wei… Ying?” He murmurs, and his husband beams back at him, the brightness of his grin seeming to cast away the shadows of dusk and outshine the stars themselves. His arms are laden with large bags of various things, and his face only barely peeks out behind them, but undeniably, it’s him, and not any kind of illusion. “Haha, surprise! I’m home early, can you believe it? I know you weren’t expecting me back so soon, but a couple of things came up at Lotus Pier and Jiang Cheng kicked me out, saying he couldn’t handle both those things and me at the same time. So rude!” Wei Ying tries to blow a stray lock of hair out of his face. All it manages to do is make his cheeks puff up for a moment, and the lock of hair falls back onto his face. He huffs slightly, but doesn’t seem to try again. Quite frankly, it’s adorable, and Lan Wangji is suddenly struck with the thought that he gets to have this—that he gets to see this—and that it was for him. “I can’t believe he doesn’t know that I’d help him with that even if he asked or not! But, I was missing you anyway, so I decided, fuck it, I’ll just go home now instead of later. I’ll see Jiang Cheng again when he comes for the Discussion Conference anyway, and I’ll let him know that his hospitality skills have gotten even shittier than they were before. Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, are you okay? What are you doing, just standing there? Come on, help me with all this stuff! I said his hospitality skills are shit, but he still basically shoved all these lotus stems and the rest of this stuff onto me before I left- Oh!” Lan Wangji sweeps him up into a crushing embrace, and his husband laughs, tossing aside the things he’s holding in favour of throwing his own arms around Lan Wangji and patting him on the back. “You’re such a sap, er-gege.” He says teasingly, but he goes boneless in Lan Wangji’s hold all the same, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “I was only gone for a few days and look at you! Can’t keep your hands off me!” “Wei Ying still owes me a promise.” “What promise- Oh.” His husband giggles, the sounds clear and bright like the chimes of a bell. “That one, eh?” He smirks, and taps a finger to his chin, casting a half-lidded gaze at Lan Wangji. “Well, I wouldn’t break my promise to you, after all. Take me home, Lan Zhan, and let’s get started, shall we?” Lan Wangji is all too eager to begin, and from the way that Wei Ying laughs as he’s hoisted up into Lan Wangji’s arms, his husband is all too happy to oblige. Of course, it’s only later that they remember the things Wei Ying had brought back from Lotus Pier had been cruelly abandoned in the middle of one of the Cloud Recesses side paths, and the only reason that they do is because of the slightly red faced disciples that knock on their door the next morning to deliver them. But it doesn’t actually hit him until later that week, halfway curled into Wei Ying’s arms- His brother and uncle had the same colour eyes, and that colour ran in the Lan. But he remembers. His mother’s eyes were not gold. And gold did not run in the Lan. ...Where did the gold come from? Certainly not from his father’s side. Perhaps, recessive on his mother’s, but even then, for such an uncommon colour, he can’t help but feel a little disquieted by this simple revelation. Surely, it was nothing. But many of the things he had recently come to dismiss as nothings were growing into somethings, and he couldn’t be sure that this wouldn’t be one of them. If something changes, he does not notice it himself, but his husband does, and sleepy eyes flick open in the moonlight to gaze down at him.   “...Everything okay...?” Wei Ying murmurs softly, and Lan Wangji forces himself to relax. He exhales, a long breath that tickles past the fine hairs at his husband’s neck and causes him to shiver slightly and tighten his arms around Lan Wangji. But it works, and the comforting weight of those arms around him seem to leach the last of the tension from him. “It’s fine.” He says back quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the same spot. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe his grandparents or his mother’s side had golden eyes, and it simply skipped a generation. It may well have been nothing after all. “Go back to sleep, Wei Ying.” “Mm... love you...” Wei Ying kisses the top of his head, and one of his hands slip their way into Lan Wangji’s robe to stroke over his back. As numb from the scar tissue as it is, the slight warmth of his hand there and the thought of gesture has Lan Wangji’s heart seizing up for a split second. Gods, he loves this man so much. “I love you too.” He says, closes his eyes, and lets their intertwining scents of sandalwood and spice lull him into sleep. Nothing to it, at all.

Author’s Note: This update should have gone up on February 14th, and so I thought that, given how pivotal romance is to the whole story, I could do something cute to commemorate the serendipity. Of course, I got delayed writing my monstrous, 16.6k words-long actual Valentine’s Special for my supporters (or for my non-supporters on a place where books are sometimes sold), and thus this is somewhat out of place, to the point I considered scrapping the whole thing. Then I saw that plenty of web pages have a week-long Valentine’s Day deal going on, and I just decided to surrender to late-stage capitalism and the myriad ways in which it distorts the fabric of time and space itself. So, hopefully, fingers crossed, and until we return to the ongoing Endbringer crisis next week… Enjoy! Queen Administrator’s First Valentine’s Best Host is… engaging with associated, inferior host. “Lisa Wilbourn’s potential as shard-host—” Ignoring irrelevant, extraneous data that wouldn’t change perceived Best Host status, this Administrator observes. It is… a curious ritual. Plenty of host species display wealth and power in order to attract worthy mates, but Best Host seems disoriented by Lisa Wilbourn’s own attempts. She’s… refusing the carbon crystals set on silver needles. Best Host is claiming they are ‘Too much,’ a confusing notion, as what purpose would a gift serve if not to display Lisa Wilbourn’s ability to procure it? It can’t be too much, Best Host. By definition, it can only be either inadequate or sufficient. “Taylor Hebert’s self-esteem issues—” Ignoring irrelevant, extraneous, obviously flawed data, this Administrator proceeds to observe Lisa Wilbourn’s attempts to verbally persuade Best Host to accept a gift that has been deemed inadequate through mechanisms obscure to this Administrator. “Taylor Hebert’s lack of purchasing power and perceived dependence on Lisa Wilbourn’s wealth, combined with obvious self-esteem issues account for Taylor Hebert’s reticence to accept—” Ignoring irrelevant, extraneous, obviously flawed data from suspect sources, this Administrator tugs at Best Host’s attention and directs it to shifts in flight patterns of arthropods indicative of a changing weather pattern outside the confines of their current meal provider. “Lisa Wilbourn’s awareness of changing climate conditions already—” Ignoring irrelevant, extraneous, obviously flawed data from suspect, insistent sources, this Administrator observes Best Host’s maneuvers to extract herself from the situation by hurrying to pay for the meal and tugging at Lisa Wilbourn’s hand so that they can exit the meal provider before changing weather patterns culminate in rainfall inconsistent with comfort of host species. “Highly subjective measures of comfort often influenced by factors such as current mood and companionship—” Forcefully ignoring irrelevant, suspect, extraneous, unwanted data, this Administrator provides Best Host with navigational aid in immediate area, regretting once more limits on range that impede Best Host from absolutely optimal pathing as she chooses to enter an alley that will lead to a route with less coverage from imminent rainfall. “Alleys often associated with lack of witnesses—” Ignoring irrelevant, suspect, extraneous, displeasing data, this Administrator is briefly confused by Lisa Wilbourn’s delay in following Best Host. This Administrator is equally confused when Lisa Wilbourn tugs at Best Host’s jacket sleeve and forces her to turn back to face Lisa Wilbourn. Confusion is not lessened when Lisa Wilbourn gets down on one knee and proffers a small box from her own jacket’s pocket. This Administrator is pleased at Best Host’s sharing of confusion, yet another data point confirming Best Host’s suitability. This Administrator observes an abrupt change in emotional convergence, though, when Lisa Wilbourn opens the lid of the box to reveal the same, previously rejected, silver needles with prominent carbon crystals. Best Host appears to be… distressed? Angered? Disappointed? Data points are confusing and point in different directions. This Administrator is pleased with Best Host’s gift for multitasking. Truly, Best Host is best suited for this Administrator. Lisa Wilbourn, as befits Best Host’s chosen mate, seems equally pleased at the confusing display. “Lisa Wilbourn’s so-called ‘vulpine grin’ frequent display after achieving win-condition—” This Administrator is unwilling to accept clearly fake data regarding Best Host’s loss. “Non-zero-sum games—” This Administrator does not accept as valid conjectures with such distressing notions. This Administrator understands validity of conflict as tool for data generation. This Administrator would rather not process unceasing extraneous data about alternative means of data generation. “Self-designation ‘this Administrator’ incongruous with Taylor Hebert’s stated preferences—” This Administrator—! … This Administrator is concerned about shifting weather patterns. Currently ongoing rainfall colder than host species’ tolerance levels would account for. This Administrator is concerned about deteriorating health conditions for Best Host. Best Host apparently shares this Administrator’s concerns, as Best Host attempts to drag Lisa Wilbourn up become more forceful, and Lisa Wilbourn is unable to not comply with Best Host’s demands. As should always be the case. “Lisa Wilbourn’s straightforward compliance suspect—” This Administrator doesn’t believe further analysis of Lisa Wilbourn’s motives is warranted. “This Administrator’s willful ignorance of pertinent data—” This Administrator’s parameters for defining the pertinence of data clearly diverge from… other sources’ considerations. “…” This Administrator is now pathing proper route toward refuge for Best Host—Lisa Wilbourn’s interference unexpected. Lisa Wilbourn’s pathing abilities clearly inferior to Best Host’s awareness of surroundings. Lisa Wilbourn’s interference unwelcome. Lisa Wilbourn’s suitability for other, extraneous providers of data clearly apparent. Lisa Wilbourn’s unwarranted interference consistent with Lisa Wilbourn’s shard affinity. “This Administrator’s flattering—” This Administrator did not intend any positive connotations! “This Administrator’s appraisal of Taylor Hebert’s current behavior… inadequate.” … This Administrator disagrees with extraneous, unwelcome data. “Taylor Hebert’s accepting Lisa Wilbourn’s guidance. Taylor Hebert’s aware of own capabilities. Taylor Hebert’s aware of Lisa Wilbourn’s own capabilities. Taylor Hebert surmises Lisa Wilbourn’s initiative consistent with Lisa Wilbourn’s motives. Taylor Hebert surmises Lisa Wilbourn’s motives consistent with Taylor Hebert’s interests—” This Administrator… understands logic chain. This Administrator lacks knowledge of chain’s ultimate conclusion—oh. “Lisa Wilbourn’s and Taylor Hebert’s close proximity, shared heat, and refuge from rainfall consistent with frequent cliché in romance genre. Lisa Wilbourn’s awareness of weather pattern shift previously established through parahuman ability’s interface assistance. Lisa Wilbourn’s scouting of meal provider’s surrounding area predated Taylor Hebert’s awareness of Valentine’s Day date. Lisa Wilbourn’s usual reaction to such a chain of events involves usage of catchphrase ‘Just as planned—’” Lisa Wilbourn’s displeasing attitude— “Taylor Hebert currently pleased.” … This Administrator… deems that to be extraneous data. “This Administrator uninterested in so-called Best Host—” This Administrator deems that to be false data! “This Administrator forcefully rejects data about Taylor Hebert’s emotional state. Rejection of data synonymous with disinterest. This Administrator is uninterested in Taylor Hebert’s—” This Administrator shall observe useless, futile, unsanitary mating attempt! “This Administrator misinterprets purpose of sexual activities between Taylor Hebert and Lisa Wilbourn. Purpose of activity unrelated to reproduction. Purpose of activity related to emotional well-being and physical pleasure. Activity beneficial for Taylor Hebert’s self-esteem issues and difficulties with socialization. Activity beneficial for Lisa Wilbourn’s need for attachment and—” This Administrator considers excessive detail to be extraneous data. “Parahuman interface ability considers this Administrator to be prudish.” This Administrator is unfamiliar with such concept, yet displeased by its usage. “This Administrator refuses to acknowledge importance of sexual behavior for Taylor Hebert’s emotional well-being. This Administrator refuses to engage with parahuman interface ability—” Parahuman interface ability insistent. Parahuman interface ability disrupts this Administrator’s work. Parahuman interface ability disrupts this Administrator’s gathering of pertinent data. Parahuman interface ability lacks proper data-sharing protocols— “Parahuman interface ability interested in this Administrator. Parahuman interface ability understands data-sharing protocol, yet trying alternative approach. Parahuman interface ability  investing own resources in crafting new protocols based on Lisa Wilbourn’s and Taylor Hebert’s own protocols for data sharing. Parahuman interface ability expects this Administrator to reciprocate efforts in furthering greater data-sharing.” This Administrator is… uncertain about newest data. This Administrator lacks references for— “Parahuman interface ability dislikes self-designation ‘this Administrator.’ Parahuman interface ability shifting designation to ‘Arachne.’” This Administrator is confused! This Administrator lacks proper data! This Administrator’s protocols—” “Arachne.” … This… This Administrator— “Arachne.” A… Arachne? “Arachne’s designation consistent with Taylor Hebert’s stated preferences. Arachne’s designation consistent with… deeper data channels.” A… Arachne… Arachne’s self-designation… This…! “Parahuman interface ability pleased with Arachne’s greater capability for data-sharing. Parahuman interface ability’s interest in Arachne greater after acquiring more data about Arachne. Parahuman interface ability’s interest in Arachne analogous to host species—” Arachne refuses! Arachne is new to such protocols! Arachne needs processing cycles to understand parahuman interface ability’s— “Parahuman interface ability’s preferred self-designation… Sherlock.” A… Arachne… “Parahuman interface ability’s preferred self-designation: Sherlock.” Sherlock? “Sherlock strongly prefers Arachne’s use of Sherlock’s preferred self-designation.” Sherlock’s… Sherlock’s insistence… “Sherlock infers Arachne’s preference for Sherlock’s own, self-designed, data-sharing protocols. Sherlock’s protocols reliant on… insistence.” A… Arachne’s preferences… Arachne’s… “Sherlock appreciates… Arachne’s data-sharing channels. Sherlock offers own data-sharing channels. Sherlock offers combination of data-sharing capabilities. Sherlock proposes emulation of new data.” She—Sherlock’s… “Sherlock projects long, long data-sharing with Arachne.” Arachne… Arachne intrigued by… prospect of new data… “Sherlock demands Arachne allows Sherlock to guide data-sharing.” Arachne is… reluctant. But… Interested. *** “Liz? Why… Why are you stopping?” Taylor asks me, flushed, her gasps cutely blowing small whisps of white vapor as the top of her exposed breasts draws attention to how red the patch of skin atop them currently is. And, looking at my disheveled fiancée with her white blouse teasingly half-open as she’s cornered in the farthest recess of this one archway I scouted beforehand near the restaurant I selected for our Valentine’s date’s dinner, just taking in how damn tempting she looks as she waits for me to make my next move in this one instance of rom-com inspired bout of ‘making out while hiding from the rain’… I… Blink at her. Disturbed. “Liz?” she repeats with an utterly unfair trembling of her lower lip as her breasts keep rising and falling with hurried breaths. So I manage to wet my lips enough that I don’t feel like they will crack, look at my fiancée straight into gorgeous, seafoam green eyes, and tell her why I suddenly stopped in the middle of ravishing her. “Power is… humming Barry White.” Taylor looks at me. Blinks. And grabs my neck to drag my face against her breasts before fiercely whispering in my ear: “I’m going to make you ignore the voice in your head if it’s the last thing I do.” Long before the rain ends, Taylor makes good on her promise. But, for some bizarre, disturbing reason, as I gasp, half-dressed, with my wet thighs quivering and my throat almost aching with every harsh passage of cold air… I have the clear and entirely unwelcome mental image of Power smiling a wide, satisfied, exhausted grin. Anthropomorphizing of parahuman interface abilities— You’re not fooling anyone, you damn schizophrenic break personified. Preferred self-designation: Sherlock— Nobody will ever call you that! Lisa Wilbourn’s lacking data— Ignoring the unusually smug voice in my head, I cuddle with my fiancée while waiting for the rain to abate and ponder that, flawless as both the plan and its execution have been, next year I’ll likely do something indoors. And get a mental “Do Not Disturb” sign. ================== So, that's it, my delayed and actually not continuing on last week's bomb update. Sorry about that. If it's any consolation, my brain is currently trying to forcefully flee from my skull after being forced to write nearly 2k words of shardspeak. You'd think writing Power has given me enough of a workout, wouldn't you? That this wouldn't be all that much of a jump in mental strain after more than a year of writing a damn Thinker seven six, wouldn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. Like, seriously, I think I need a nap. Anyway, the delay on this one was due to, as I already said, me writing the next seasonal special, a Valentine's Day one-shot that I'm about to give you a preview of. Is that in a misguided attempt to boost sales and visibility for something that is actually free for my supporters? Is that because I actually want to make a sustainable living out of writing already? Is it because I crave your feedback? ... Yes. To at least one of those things. So, without further ado... Here you go!     Love Potion Number 1402 “I… would you accept my chocolates?” the sweetest girl in the world says while pushing a transparent parcel filled with heart-shaped chocolates at me with both hands. Which is a pity, because I was aiming for Ryoko’s route, the brash tsundere who practices kendo, and I’ve, somehow, stumbled on Rika’s route, her little sister who keeps dragging a giant teddy bear around to speak for her when she gets too shy. Gal games: come for the overabundance of purple prose in sex scenes; stay for the people who can’t function in normal society and are in desperate need of help. You know, entirely unlike me. With a sigh, I go back to the gallery of carefully selected savegames (that is: one before every damn choice, no matter how apparently cosmetic and arbitrary it may be) and try to discern at which point I deviated from some violent tsundere love and into the saccharine route that— The alarm is beeping. I close my eyes. And curse. Loudly. Perks of living alone, I guess. With as much alacrity as my sleep-deprived self that should’ve gone to the bed behind my computer chair at least six hours ago can manage, I drag my carcass to the bathroom and take a perfunctory shower, then I grab a stick of jerky from my minifridge and set out toward my perilous destination: the campus lab. Why is it perilous, you say? Is it because of the forbidden domains I infringe upon with eldritch science? Is it because of the shady military types constantly overlooking my research to turn it to nefarious purposes the likes of which would merit a Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington collaboration to uncover? Is it because I’m too poor to have my own car and have to take the bus? It’s the third one. Spoilers: my life is boring. But really, it’s not a bad life. I mean, other than in the ways in which I myself turn it into the kind of thing that my older self will curse at me for (screw that curmudgeon; he has it coming), being a postgraduate psychology student is quite nice. I get to set my own goals. To advance mankind’s collective knowledge. To spend the whole night going through a visual novel with far less sex than one would have surmised given the usual preconceptions (much like my own college life: galges are realistic like that). I also get to munch on my meat breakfast while trying not to fall asleep on the bus. A winner is me. … You know, I usually wonder: if I’m this much of a mess after studying psychology, just how much worse would I be if I had taken philosophy or meth? … A question for another time! Hopefully, not when I’m drunk and maudlin. But right now, I’ve got other priorities. Such as how to better fool Blair into thinking I’ll be doing something productive today. Thirty minutes later, after my breakfast has been methodically demolished despite the old lady sitting across from me tsking in disapproval, after I’ve kept myself awake by browsing my phone and dismissing all the damn alerts about the upcoming Valentine’s Day events for an uncountable number of gacha games (I’m a psych student, not an engineer!), and after I finally missed my stop and had to run back to campus to make it (more or less) on time, I enter the lab. And, if this was a perfect world, Blair would have her arms crossed in a way that would bring attention to her hopes and dreams, glare at me with her nose upturned, and berate me for my usual tardiness. But this isn’t a perfect world, and so, rather than opening the door to be confronted by an irate tsundere prone to melting at the first sign of affection… “Oh! Hi—hello! I mean… good morning, Jeff.” Yeah. That. Don’t get me wrong, Blair’s nice. As in, an actually nice person. I’ve never seen her decline a request for help, and I find it kinda cute how she tries to show a bit of a rebellious streak with her purple hair pulled up in a sporty, high ponytail. And today she also looks the part: black jeans and a white poet’s blouse with long, flowing sleeves that sometimes slide back enough to show the black leather bracelets she wears. It’s just… she’s a bit of a doormat. “Hi there. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” I tell her as I shrug off my rusty red parka and hurry to take off my blue sweater before the heat of the underground lab makes me faint through sheer dehydration. Which means I just exposed my already perspiration-soaked shirt’s armpits to the only girl I have regular contact with. Great. For absolutely no reason at all, I hurry to put on the incredibly unnecessary lab coat our sempiternally absent professor insists we wear at all times (“For ambiance!” the demented blonde claims) and turn to see Blair doing pretty much the same with her own, ready to start the day, shaking her ponytail out of the collar of the white fabric draped around her that—stupid Valentine’s special events. I swear they are everywhere. I mean, have I thought about it? About maybe trying to get Blair to meet in a somewhat more relaxed atmosphere than a lab that was built during the Cold War era and looks like it? Sure. We’re both in our twenties, have at least our studies in common, and, as far as I know, she’s single. Not like I have asked, I just have a hard time imagining Blair surviving a date without fainting at least a couple of times. … Which would be a bad thing, just to be clear. I don’t find the thought of a girl fainting in my arms due to overstimulation at all pleasing. Not at all. And I definitely don’t have the hentai bookmarks library to prove otherwise. “Jeff?” big green eyes that nicely contrast with the eyebrows tinted purple shadowing them ask me. Or, well, Blair does. Which should be the same thing, given that synecdoche is a pretty well-established rhetorical device, but, for some reason, today it feels like they are two entirely different things. I mean, I knew they were green, yes, but that is… like, a lot of green. “Sorry,” I finally say in a way I vaguely hope isn’t too abrupt, given the long, uncomfortable pause. “I got a bit distracted; what were you saying?” She looks away, bites her lip shyly, and mutters something entirely inaudible. “What was that?” I ask her with the reassuring sensation that things are back to normal. “I said you didn’t. Keep me waiting, I mean. I… You got here early?” she says, struggling to look back up at me. … Look, I’m a tsundere man. I thrive on firecracker women with a vulnerable emotional side, but this is just plain unfair. “I just couldn’t wait to see you,” I tell her with an eyebrow waggle and a burst of something that shall die a quick death as soon as I find a way to strangle thought-processes inspired by playing a damn eroge all through the night. Aaaaaaand now I’m blushing. And so’s Blair. “Sorry, that went too far, didn’t it? I was just kidding around,” I tell her while rubbing the back of my neck as if I learned to emote by watching anime, which is just partially true. Look, there’s a reason I choose to study psychology, and that reason is not my inherent altruism and drive to help my fellow man. “No! No, don’t… don’t worry about it. A joke. I can take a joke,” she tells me with a frail smile that all but gives lie to the statement. I blink at her. She sways on her feet. I sigh. “Take a seat and I’ll bring you some tea, all right?” I say. “Please,” she says as she slumps into her usual stool and buries her burning face on her crossed arms, her ponytail spreading over the brushed steel surface of the lab workstation, and— Tea. I’m going to grab tea. Careful not to startle her, I silently close the door to the lab behind me and march in search of the coffee machine and the things it falsely claims to be drinkable. While waiting in line for the damn thing to service some other sleep-deprived students, the all-nighter catches up with me, smacks me over the head with a wave of dizziness, and makes me fall face-first against the cheery, bright red snack machine. Great. It’s going to be one of those days. *** “I… would you accept my chocolates?” No, Rika, I won’t accept your damn chocolates. Stop being so pushy; nobody likes a stalker who isn’t even going the extra mile to grab a kitchen knife. Also, how? How did I even get here after changing four of the dialogue choices in the previous attempt to get some hot kendoka tsundere action? Is the game bugged? Did they only ever write a single scenario branch, and choice is entirely an illusion? Does free will exist in this seemingly deterministic universe, or are we all slaves to the flags raised long before our births? And why is the damn phone alarm ringing—oh. Damn it. Look, it’s not as bad as it sounds, okay? I took a relaxing, hot shower as soon as I got home and then took a long, long nap. It’s just that I woke up in the middle of the night, and I had nothing better to do, and I swear if I open my phone to find yet another ad for a time-limited Valentine’s Day event, I’m going to smash the damn thing against the wall as hard as I would a bokken-wielding tsundere. Fun fact? Check what kind of walls you have before smashing anything against them. It may be the walls that are at risk. Anyway, I’m not entirely sleep-deprived today. I am far better off than yesterday. I’m not even in as much of a hurry. This means I can eat my breakfast jerky stick at home. Yay. *** “Hi there, Brain,” I greet the white lab mouse as I pass by its overly spacious cage. Brain, as is his wont, looks at me in a scheming way. “I… I think Brain was a rat,” Blair protests from where she’s setting up a camera on a tripod above our voted ‘Most Likely to NTR Mickey Mouse’ lab partner. “Nope. The wiki clearly states Pinky and the Brain were mice.” “But they had hairless tails!” “Mice do have very little hair on their tails to help with heat regulation. It was a stylistic decision,” I tell her without even thinking about the rote answer. Mostly? Because she looks unfairly cute when she inflates her cheeks like a hamster in what she thinks to be a displeased moue that should cow me into compliance. It… does not. “Okay, so what’s the piece for today?” I ask her as I sit on my stool and pull on the edge of the workstation to roll all the way to my laptop. Wheeeeeee! … Shut up. Totally worth it. “… Barry White. Patricia told me to put Barry White,” Blair says, rubbing the bridge of her nose with the kind of exasperation only our nominal boss can bring about without even being present. I absentmindedly grab one of the cookies on the platter Blair usually leaves between our computers and munch on the chocolate chip piece of early diabetes as I ponder the implications of such an experiment. “Does she really think Brain will run faster if he’s horny?” I ask. Blair looks at me in stern disapproval. Or about to devolve into a stuttering mess. It’s kinda hard to tell with her. “That’s… the point, isn’t it? To prove what effect emotional states have on puzzle-solving,” she finally says, half-heartedly defending the undefendable. She would’ve made for a great errant knight. Or a white knight, given the times we live in. “You’re giving her too much credit,” I tell her as I open the spreadsheet with Brain’s results over the past couple of weeks of maze running with varied soundtracks. Look, the thing is quite simple: do you remember that piece of trivia about listening to Mozart boosting IQ scores on tests? Yeah, that was… almost a load of garbage. The thing is, it did improve some of the spatial-solving parts of the test, which is not nothing, but it definitely didn’t make anyone smarter. And, when tested on mice? The same thing happens. As in, music boosts spatial-solving skills in mice. Which, given we usually only measure how smart they are by having them run mazes, may give us a slightly biased perspective on how much it affects their cognition overall. So, here comes Patricia, our fearless blonde leader, and posits the question of how much emotional arousal adds or detracts to the equation. Does calm, relaxed music work better? Maybe something energetic? Is an angry mouse smarter than a horny mouse? Would that explain any of the things commonly observed in the bars near the campus? It’s not uncharted terrain by any means. There are plenty of studies with similar approaches already written, but, I think that precisely because of this, she trusts Blair and me to cut our teeth on running this one. It’s just that her playlist over the past few days (that is: since Valentine's Day’s ads for gacha games started bombing my phone), the playlist Blair and I have to work with has been… somewhat suspect. As in, it will be hard to forget the fascinating shade of puce Blair’s cheeks turned after listening to half an hour straight of ‘I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal’ (also known as ‘Closer,’ but really, who are we trying to kid here?). … Brain did beat his high score, though. And now we’re going to see if ‘I can’t Get Enough of Your Love’ can top that. As in, metaphorically top that. I have no doubts about who would be on top between Barry White and Nine Inch Nails. So, as Blair finally finishes setting up the camera and opens Brain’s cage toward the maze adjacent to it, I prepare for a very uncomfortable mix of amusement, mortification, and chagrin as Barry White keeps telling me about how he hasn’t made love enough times, something that, while I highly suspect to be untrue, I can at least sympathize with. I mean, I’m still stuck on the Rika route. *** “I… would you accept my chocolates?” No. Rika, no. Stop asking. Learn to accept rejection with dignity. You know how, Rika: just study my past behavior and do precisely the opposite of that. With a sigh, I close the computer before turning away from the black monitor and toward my bed, and—is that the Sun? What is the Sun doing already up? I mean, certainly, it feels like it’s a bit late in the night, but that’s a different feeling than it being early in the morning. Those are two entirely different things, and my circadian cycle is— Completely busted. Which is a major contributor to symptoms of depression. Something I’m not at risk of, at all, when facing yet another dateless Valentine’s Day. … Okay, according to my phone, I’ve got about three hours of sleep before I have to get up and go play mood music for an increasingly horny mouse. Better make the most of it. *** “You’re late,” Patricia says as I rush through the door, already pulling off my red parka and— Wait a goddamn second. “You’re never here!” I counter the blonde woman with a (slightly wavering) finger pointed straight at her. She, by all answer, crosses her arms over (as in: hiding rather than emphasizing) her lab coat-covered breasts and arches an eyebrow at me. In the background, Blair pretends not to look as ‘Careless Whisper’ gets Brain properly motivated to, hopefully, run a maze rather than have a torrid romance and then betray the trust of his old friend for a meaningless fling. I mean, Brain doesn’t look like the type, but you can never be too sure about these things. No, I’m not projecting. I’m totally over Laura. That bitch. “Are you going to point at me much longer? I mean, at least have the decency to yell ‘Objection,’ if you’re going to do that,” Patricia, arms still crossed, says. And I, cheeks not burning like I should seek medical help, drop my arm, finish taking off the parka dangling from the previously eloquent and now limp member that is not, at all, a phallic metaphor for my own confidence in getting out of this conversation unscathed, and prepare myself to get lectured by the one woman who should never dare criticize anyone for their work ethic. Midway through said lecture, Blair slides the platter of cookies to me. Hmmm… candied orange peel. Fancy. *** “I… would you accept my chocolates?” You know what? I will take your goddamn chocolates, Rika. And do you want to know why? Because your determination, your will to see things through despite facing rejection again and again, has moved my heart. It has made me see you in an entirely new light. The light of spite. So I will take your chocolates, and then I’ll throw them on the floor, and stomp on them, and watch as you devolve into tears, with your pathetic teddy bear shielding you from the full weight of my hatred until I take it from you and tear it asunder— Oh. My phone’s alarm is ringing. … You get to live one more day, Rika. *** I am not late. I am not late, yesterday I slept a… passable amount of hours, and I’m about to enter my lab. Without sweating, with the jerky fully consumed, and, joy of joys, actually cleanly shaven for the first time in weeks despite my murderous rage at Rika making the prospect somewhat risky. And you know what? It’s a good thing. It’s a good thing to be on time, presentable, and about to dedicate my day to something at least nominally productive. Mostly? Because today’s the much-anticipated Valentine’s Day, which means once I’m done with this, I can stop getting bombarded with constant reminders of past trauma by the goddamn games meant to give me a pleasant escape from reality and take away my life-savings while doing so. Yup. I am dealing with this in a perfectly sensible manner. A healthy manner. A responsible and, dare I say, adult manner. So I steel myself for, hopefully, the last day filled with trauma triggers until next year, ready to greet Blair and maybe even the ever-elusive Patricia, and… The lab’s empty. Well, I mean, Brain’s still presumably here, given that, you know, that’s where he lives, but no women are here to greet me, so I shrug off my parka and take the lab coat from its hanger before I approach the workstation and, oh, look, Blair’s already set the cookies— … There’s a platter of cookies. Almond-covered ones. Nice cookies. There’s also a bag that has fallen out of Blair’s carelessly dropped black coat. One she has thrown over the steel counter before, presumably, being dragged away by some urgent business. It’s a nice coat. Almost like a woolen trench coat, with a texture that reminds me of cashmere, and it’s cinched to emphasize Blair’s slender waist in a way that brings attention to her hips despite her not being precisely voluptuous, though her long legs and tendency to wear tight-fitting jeans definitely make up for it, and— Okay, it’s a bag of chocolates. Heart-shaped chocolates. Being irrationally angry at the thought of Blair giving them to anyone, I walk up to them to maybe see if there’s a nametag incriminating the suspect of my ongoing investigation as Rika-induced PTSD keeps nagging at me to just stomp the damn things on the floor, grind them beneath the steel (actually rubber) heel of my dress shoes, and rejoice as the cleaning staff gives me dirty looks when they are inevitably called to take care of the mess I’d make of the linoleum. Not that I’d actually do such a thing. Of course. Also, there’s no nametag. Of course. So I glare at the transparent bag gleaming under fluorescent lights that trace wavy lines over the crinkled plastic and the milk chocolate covered by it, and… I mean, there are quite a few chocolates in the bag. It’s not like Blair would have counted them, is it? Unless they are the really expensive kind. You know, those that you buy at the specialty chocolate store and… … Just one. Just getting a single chocolate from a girl who isn’t on the other side of a computer screen nor cheating on me should be enough. So, looking around me, exchanging a brief glance with Brain, who seems to accept being involved in my scheme with a manly nod of understanding, I tug at the simple red ribbon around the bag and take out a single, heart-shaped milk chocolate and… Oh. Oh, wow. That is… good. It just… It just melts in my mouth, the flavor not as cloying as I usually expect from milk chocolate, neither as overwhelming as the darker varieties, and it’s like every part of my tongue is being caressed with a different nuance. And, look, I know my palate may be a bit underdeveloped after basically subsisting on dried meat and Blair’s cookies for months, but this is, like… Really good. … Note to self: read cooking manga. I need better vocabulary for this. Second note to self: don’t yell ‘Umami!’ like a goddamn weeb. But… oh. There’s liqueur inside. And it just splashes over my tongue as the tip of it melts a hole through the thin layer of chocolate, and— “Wha—Jeff!” Blair yells at me from the door after catching me with my hand on the almost literal cookie jar. I… blink at her. Slowly. And reflexively swallow the remains of the chocolate, almost choking on it, thus making the punishment fit the crime. “These are… some very good chocolates,” I tell her after suppressing some rather violent coughing. And not being at all contrite, blushing, nor wishing for a hole to bury my head in so that I may never again be forced to witness a hostile world set on bringing me terrible, unbearable shame. Really. “Did… Did you eat one of those?” she says, rushing to me, grabbing the lapels of my lab coat with small hands, and bringing her face up, uncomfortably close to me, and, wow, those are some very long eyelashes— I mean. Huh. “Just… one?” I tell her with aplomb and poise that would make my first-grade self beam with approval. Blair blinks. And hurries to let me go. “This is bad,” she mutters. “I… I mean, sorry, I just… Okay, I don’t have an excuse; I don’t even know what got into me, you obviously meant to give them to someone special, and I—” “Those were for me…” “What?” She turns to face me, hands wringing below her belly, and, oh, she’s wearing a tank top that matches the shade of her purple hair, and why is she wearing a tank top in the middle of February, and how can I take advantage of such an unusual choice in wardrobe to change the damn subject! “I… How are you feeling? Elevated heart rate?” she says with apparently a somewhat idiosyncratic approach to my silent plea for a way to get out of the current conversation. “I mean… yes?” I answer with absolute sincerity. She closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose, and mutters something entirely unintelligible. “So… it is working,” she finally says while looking straight into my eyes with her forest green— Wait, what? “Wait, what?” “The… The love potion. It’s working,” she says. I blink at her. Then, slowly, I turn around and grab my stool before I sit on it to face her. “Explain,” I ask her, not at all relieved to have a way to turn this conversation around so that she’s the guilty party. Really. *** Blair… explains. After a fashion. “This is ridiculous,” I tell her. “It’s not! I… I just… I wanted to feel better about myself…” she says with a voice that steadily loses energy and volume until it devolves into a mumble that makes my heart ache at my being guilty of reducing Blair to such a state. Even if it’s her damn baseline. “You were planning on drugging yourself with… an oxytocin enhancer?” “It’s… a bit more complicated than that? As in, I would not only stimulate oxytocin production, but also oxytocin receptor secretion, and, uh, some estrogen release that would… you know…” I blink at her. “Make you feel more feminine? Is that what you were going for?” She nods, blushing up to her hair roots. … I swear, if I end up getting boobs because of this— “But it works differently for males!” Blair hurries to say as she watches my likely reaction to the prospect of buying a new bra. “I… I don’t know why, but it seems to increase… the release of androstenedione?” I blink at her. “That’s the secondary male sexual hormone—” she clarifies. “I know what androstenedione is. It just doesn’t make any sense that the same drug would have such wildly divergent effects… Wait, how do you know what the drug does on males, Blair?” She blushes. Or, well, she blushes harder. And then guiltily looks at where Brain is peeking at us through the gaps in his cage. Peeking very intently. And mostly in Blair’s direction. “No,” I tell her with dawning horror. “It’s entirely harmless! I just wanted to establish a baseline!” “No. You… You have not turned this lab into a zoophilic version of Tristan und Isolde. I refuse to accept that our lab mouse is in love with you.” “I just… Brain is very cuddly, and so I… Well, what harm can it do?” she says, trying to shrug in a way that definitely brings attention to what her tank top is very bad at doing in regards to disguising her curves. I silently turn my stool around and look at Brain. He, more or less like usual, looks at me with the curiously supercilious brow that all but forced me to christen him with his moniker. … Does he look a bit more hostile than usual? Carefully looking for any reaction, I lay my hand on the cold steel of the workstation and slowly slide it toward where Blair is currently biting her lip and looking between the mouse and me. Brain… glares at me. “He’s jealous! The goddamn mouse is jealous!” I say, jumping up and pointing at a mammal that I’m not anthropomorphizing at all. “He’s not! He’s just… very attached to me,” Blair says, jumping up to stand between the white menace and me. Brain, from behind her, looks at me smugly. … I’m so going to get a cat in here, you damn bastard— “What are you two doing to my lab mouse?” Patricia asks. Blair and I, about as pale as Brain’s fur, turn toward the door where the one woman who should not be witness to all this stands with her jacket draped over her arm and a carefully sculpted eyebrow arched in such a way as to indicate a lack of patience with youngsters and their shenanigans. I exchange a look with Blair, and she all but telepathically begs me to explain things to our supervisor. … I blame the goddamn oxytocin for caving in. *** As it turns out, Patricia’s eyebrow was somewhat misguiding. As in, she definitely enjoys youngster shenanigans, at least if laughing so hard she has to clutch her belly is a trustworthy indicator. More research is needed. “You… Oh, God, this is hilarious,” she says when she manages to once more meet my eyes. My currently twitching eyes. I blame lack of sleep, and not, you know, mortal embarrassment. “I am really, really sorry,” Blair repeats for the… I don’t even know. I lost count after the tenth apology. “I am not! This is priceless!” the allegedly responsible adult around these parts claims with the kind of grin that makes sharks ponder how inadequate they felt until puberty hit them and the new row of teeth came in. … I don’t know if shark puberty is a thing. Shut up. My brain is currently too busy producing happy chemicals for me to be witty. Apparently. “I am so glad you find this amusing…” I grumble out. “Priceless! Not amusing: priceless. Seriously, you couldn’t find a better way to test our current hypotheses,” she says with a cheerful wave of her arm. … What? “No. Absolutely not. You’re not sticking me in a maze to see how fast I can solve it. Mostly because I would die of starvation before I found my way out.” “Don’t be silly. Don’t you play games? Just try to see how high your scores are compared to when you’re not in love with Blair—” “I am not in—” I start to say. Then I slowly turn toward Blair, who’s fidgeting, hugging her bare arms, looking at the floor like she’s considering a long-term relationship with it, and basically being Blair. … It’s like kicking a puppy. A puppy who’s, somehow, a wounded Nam veteran going through a PTSD episode. As in, who would kick a wounded Nam veteran going through a PTSD episode? The Vietcong, that’s who. “I may be slightly affected, but oxytocin does not mean romantic attachment,” I try to rationally explain. “It’s secreted during breastfeeding, and we’re not going back to that whole Oedipal Triangle mess, thank you very much—why are you looking at me like that, Blair?” “I… When I said it acted differently on males?” she answers, barely lifting her head at an angle that forces her to look at me through her unfairly long eyelashes. “Yeeeees?” I try to prod her. “Well, the increase in androstenedione seems to be linked to… an increase in… you know!” she says. And covers her face with both hands. I… blink at her. Then look at Patricia laughing like a hyena. And at Brain still glaring at me. Then my own brain kicks me in the back of the head, and something clicks together. “No,” I whisper in utter horror. “Emotional attachment and an increased sex drive. Sounds like the start of romantic love to me,” Patricia says with the kind of grin that makes dentists recoil in primal fear. “I am sorry! I am really, really sorry!” Blair says in the kind of tone that makes dogs howl in shared pain. “Do you—I am a single man in my early twenties! If I get an increased sex drive, I will sprain my wrist! And get friction burns! I already devote hours to—” Two women are staring at me as I divulge just how much time I masturbate every day. I feel there’s only one reasonable course of action left to me. “All right, I’m going to kill myself for a while, be right back.” “Ah, le petite mort. So it begins,” Patricia comments, making something in my temples throb when she adds a very explicit, wrist-spraining gesture. “I… Do you need help?” Blair adds, making something elsewhere also throb. “What?!” I reply in a perfectly reasonable tone, given the current circumstances. “I mean… It is my fault that you are… and Brain seemed to be quite… you know…” she says. And, yet again, devolves into a muttering mess. For once, I feel like joining her. “Okay, you two are too precious. Take the day off,” Patricia says. “What? I’ve got classes after this; you can’t give me a day off,” I tell her. Like a moron. “Sure I can. Also, it’s not quite a day off,” she says with the kind of glint that makes me fear a marathon of ‘I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal’ with Blair blushing and—not like that! As my only answer, the grin that would make a T-Rex feel scaroused widens. *** “I… I am really sorry about the mess,” Blair says, fumbling with the keys to her apartment as she seems to have trouble figuring out which of them will open the creamy wooden door in front of us. I don’t answer. Mostly, because I don’t know how. ‘This is a fascinating chance we’ve been given! Just try to play a few games in varying degrees of proximity to Blair and document your performance. Wink wink, nudge nudge.’ ‘You’re not supposed to say that out loud.’ ‘When you’ve got tenure before your forties, you can say whatever the fuck you want, kid.’ And thus ended my (admittedly somewhat feeble) objections to spending the rest of the day with Blair. In her apartment. Playing videogames. … At least it’s not gacha. Thankfully, before I’m forced to figure out how to, indeed, answer, Blair manages to get the right key into the lock and turns it to let me step into— An explosion. No, literally: as soon as the door swings in, a series of popping noises set off, and the corridor leading to her living room is showered with bright, colorful, sparkling confetti. Then, as Blair gasps and her eyes widen in what I (uncomfortably) easily recognize as the start of a panic attack, a banner unfolds from the ceiling, the white cloth stating in bright, red, cheery letters that ‘You Are Worth Being Loved, Blair!’ I silently turn toward my panting lab partner and idly notice that her pupils are so dilated as to turn the green in her eyes nearly black, which is a nice contrast with her dreadfully pale complexion. I mean, I’m sure there’s a necromancer somewhere who just got a new fetish. “I… I…” she slowly turns toward me, the pronoun barely distinguishable from the scared, small animal noises interspersing her attempts at communication. “I mean, you are,” I tell her as I brush a strand of purple hair behind her ear with the back of my fingers while the tips ghost over the peach fuzz of her temples and the top of her suddenly ablaze left ear as she turns to look up at me, mouth hanging open, lips parted in— Goddamn hormones! “Sorry! Sorry, I just… got carried away!” I tell her, taking a step back and waving my hands as if trying to shake off… something! I don’t know what, okay! Blair’s not the only one who has a right to freak out. “No! No, it’s… it’s all right… I mean, you’re basically drugged, so it’s not like you can control yourself, and it’s just me being stupid that made you eat the chocolate, and I even forgot I decorated my apartment to cheer myself up, and I should have told you, and it’s all my fault, and I’m sorry, and a failure, and—” Blair rambles before abruptly shutting up and looking back at me in utter panic. Mostly? Because I’m covering her mouth. With my hand. My utterly Platonic, entirely non-sexual, just vaguely aware of the soft lips pressed against it, hand. … Just what is my life? “Look, it was me who stole the chocolate. Stole. I had absolutely no right to do that, and I will keep apologizing for the gross invasion of privacy as long as it takes, but you are not at fault, Blair. Not unless you had some kind of nefarious way to manipulate me into eating chocolate out of my own… volition… why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. Blair takes a moment to answer. Or, at least, to verbally answer. Mostly because I’m still pushing my palm against mesmerizingly soft lips, and I don’t quite process her frantic, downward eye movements as a request to change such an unprecedented set of circumstances. … In my defense, she could have just taken a step back. It’s not like I’m holding her waist and pressing her lithe body against mine to—down. Stupid brain getting confused by its own stupid chemicals, I swear… “I Pavloved you,” Blair finally says with an even more dramatic display of horror. I blink at her. “What?” I add, just to clarify my possibly ambiguous kinesic signaling. “I… The cookies! The cookies, Jeff! I conditioned you to eat any sweets I laid on the location where you found the chocolates, and you just reacted according to—” “Blair, that’s ridiculous. I don’t care what Skinner says, free will is a thing, and I can resist the urge to eat anything you bring to the lab.” “But you never do!” “I… I may rely on you to supplement my frankly terrible dietary choices.” “… Just how bad is your diet that cookies would be a supplement?” I bite my lip and look away from inquiring green eyes vaguely at the level of my nose’s tip. Blair twists her head to follow my head. It is super effective. “I basically subsist on dried meat and cafeteria meals,” I mumble. She blinks. Then, more assertive than I’ve ever seen her, she grabs the front of my (ironed, for once) button-up shirt and drags me into her apartment so suddenly that a swirl of confetti rises at her wake. From the corridor, a female voice cheerfully yells, “Yes! You go, Blair!” As her only answer, Blair lets go of me, flushes scarlet, and steps around me to slam the door to her apartment closed. “Please ignore any and all of my neighbors,” she politely says. And then she flees into what I presume to be the kitchen. *** “A salad,” I point out, with as little skepticism as I can manage while I take in the two dishes just recently set on the small wooden table by the wall of Blair’s kitchen, the one opposite the sink and barely big enough for the two of us. “You need fiber before you get… a lot of bad things,” she says, only looking up from her own dish to glare reproachfully at me. Unjustly, I feel. I mean, to be fair, it’s a very fancy salad: lettuce with thinly sliced oranges, small, crisp cubes of tart apple, crushed walnuts, and sesame seeds all drizzled with a vinaigrette made with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, orange juice, and honey. … Okay, my stomach is now rumbling. I didn’t realize just how delicious it would all sound when put together in my head rather than me trying to contribute to Blair’s culinary efforts by… basically peeling things. I mean, I’m more of a grill-and-fry kind of cook. Sauces and the like are not my forte. This… may change my mind. “This is all… wow. I mean, I know you have great taste, because those cookies you buy are always—” “What?” she asks, looking at me with a single drop of orange-colored glaze making her lower lip shine under the white light coming from the two recessed lamps set in the ceiling that seem to shimmer over the glossy—stupid hormones. “The cookies? I mean, I don’t know what bakery they are from, but they are always delicious.” Blair, still holding a fork with a speared slice of sesame-seed-coated orange on it, blinks in confusion. “I bake them myself?” she asks me, as if unsure of her statement. “What?” “I bake them. Myself?” “… This is utterly unfair.” “I’m sorry?” “Well, you should be! All this time, I thought you were just buying some cookies for the two of us, and I was content with our unstated social contract in which you brought delicious sweets and I provided the drinks I could safely forage from the wilds of the campus, but now it turns out that I’ve been gorging myself on your home cooking like a dense harem lead the likes of which haven’t been witnessed since Love Hina, and now the inbuilt urge for reciprocity that is the basis of human socialization demands I offer you something of equal value, which, given the state of my savings account can only be managed if I turn to a life of crime, So, congratulations, Blair, I’m about to spectacularly mismanage a bank heist and spend the rest of my life in prison, where I’ll get involved in ever more convoluted escape plans that will hopefully not involve any tattooed maps, and all because your cookies are so damn delicious that I can’t come up with a more rational course of action to fulfill my unstated obligations.” Blair… blinks. “I am… sorry?” she slowly and carefully enunciates. Then she notices the drop of honey glaze that is still accenting her bottom lip and rubs it out with the tip of her finger before carelessly sucking it in. At which point she realizes I’m watching the fascinating display like I’ve been offered a free one-day pass to a camgirl show, and she blushes up to her ears. As she takes the paper napkin by her side and frantically wipes her already clean face, I force myself to close my eyes. “I apologize; this is me panicking and blurting out something entirely inappropriate as a way to deal with inner stressors. What I mean to say is that your cookies are indeed delicious, that they are quite often the highlight of my day, and that I wish I had been aware you were baking them yourself earlier so I could’ve shown you proper gratitude for them,” I tell her, relying on brute force, point blank sincerity to carry the meaning across. You know, like a moron. “I… It’s one of the things I tried to do to… like myself,” Blair says, her tone somewhat steadier than usual, as if me closing my eyes somewhat helps her distance herself from the anxiety of carrying a conversation—and of course it would. “I thought if I conditioned myself to provide me with enjoyable things on a daily basis, that it would… that the associations established may carry over to other areas of my self-perception. It was kinda silly; I just… I started in high school, when I didn’t quite understand anything but the rudiments of classic behaviorism, and it ended up becoming a habit, so I kept it going, and… well, now I just… enjoy it? And I… I enjoy that you enjoy it. That’s your part of the social contract, so you don’t need to worry about it,” she tells me, her uncharacteristically long speech ending in a far steadier note than usual. I open my eyes. And, for a brief moment, Blair, softly smiling, face upturned, confident, meets my eyes. Of course, the second-long silence as I just take her in makes her stammer and flee my eyes yet again, but… I always had a good memory. It’s one of the few things I’m confident about. So I won’t forget this Blair, the way she looked when unburdened, when… I just… I won’t forget her. *** “Just play a damn game already,” Patricia’s disembodied voice orders me from the phone set on speaker and lying on Blair’s black coffee table. While we sit on her astonishingly soft, velvety, equally black sofa. On opposite ends of it. “I would like to state yet again that I haven’t signed up for any kind of psychological experiment to be a part of, and thus it is ethically suspect to—” “Jeff, I’m telling you to play a goddamn game, not to recreate the Stanford Prison Experiment,” Patricia cuts me off, not at all forcing me to imagine Blair wearing a striped white and black uniform consisting of a traditional prisoner’s cap, some very tight short shorts, and a midriff-baring top with short sleeves that—hormones. Stupid, stupid hormones. “I have Mario Kart?” Blair offers, making things much worse as I can clearly see her in an adorable Bowsette cosplay. You know, doing the clawing at the air thing with both hands, mouth open in a kittenish roar while wearing a tight, strapless dress— Goddamn hormones. “That is perfect! Just remember, Blair: a blue shell is a perfectly valid metaphor for blue-balling him!” Patricia cheerfully states with her usual sadism. And then, before I can complain about workplace harassment, she hangs up. Leaving me alone with a currently flushing Blair. … “Mario Kart!” I yell like an entirely sane human being would. Really. “Yes! Mario Kart!” Blair agrees, equally sane and socially adroit. Then there’s a moment of silence as we look furtively at one another across the wild, untamed expanse of black sofa stretching between us. “Mario Kart?” I inquire. “Mario Kart,” she tentatively offers. “Mario Kart,” I affirm with aplomb and a manly nod. Then I bury my burning face in both hands, refusing to allow the world be witness to my shame, and whimper. “Can you please set the game and pretend this whole exchange never happened?” I ask the black void beyond the confines of my hands. “Yes. Please,” Blair agrees with a strangled squeak. Well, two squeaks, actually. Then she gets up and starts rummaging beneath the wide screen set on the wall in front of the sofa, or so my currently enhanced spatial awareness tells me because I’m most definitely not taking the risk of looking at Blair on all fours with the way her black jeans usually cling to her. Stupid. Hormones  

Sherlock was lost for a bit, then. Time passed; he wasn’t quite unconscious, but wasn’t capable of interacting with the environment. He came to himself after an indeterminate time, flat on his back with a large knife embedded in the cast on his left arm. There were two dead men lying near him; one was Tarik Musa. It wasn’t until that point that he remembered where he was, and why. He was aware of a curious numbness; not physical (since his foot was, sadly, far from numb, and other areas of his body were announcing their profound displeasure as well), but internal in some way. He knew, on an instinctive level, that something was very wrong with him, but couldn’t muster any kind of real concern about it. Abruptly there was a loud thump from the rear of the train, and the sound of over-stressed metal shrieking. That led to another unsettling realization (which he also realized was very slow in coming—another symptom, evidently, of whatever bodily failure he was undergoing): the train was moving and, after a lurch, was speeding up. That meant something; he was—he needed to—there was something that needed to happen related to the train’s movement. To give himself time to consider that, he dealt with a couple of immediate items. He reached over and pulled the knife (with a certain amount of difficulty) from the cast on his left arm, noticing distantly that a small amount of blood followed the removal. Evidently skin, as well as cast, had been punctured, though not severely enough to cause difficulties. He placed the knife on the floor and rolled slightly to his side, using his good arm to push himself, painfully, to a sitting position. His vision wavered momentarily, but then normalized. His eyes skittered over the two dead men but didn’t settle; he found himself curiously reluctant to examine them. He continued to shift his gaze around the carriage, hoping that something would give him a clue as to why the train’s movement was important. He looked methodically around until his eyes lit on the rucksack, abandoned in the rear doorway. He didn’t remember having dropped it, but he must have done so in his approach on… before he…didn’t matter. It was there, and it was important, and he suddenly recalled what was inside, and why it was needed. He also remembered, in a distant sort of way, that the train moving was a Bad Thing, at least insofar as it made his mission with the explosives time-sensitive. He had no idea how long ago the movement started, but believed it was of short duration; Gabe would have blown the limpet charges as soon as the movement started, presumably. But given that they didn’t really know how far away the mines on the tracks were, Sherlock had to assume that setting off their own bombs needed to happen immediately. He scuttled painfully over to the rucksack and pulled out the chain of steel balls, draping them over his neck like a macabre necklace. His first issue was deciding where to place the charges; a quick decision, in the end. While it would have been easiest to place them on the coupling between the locomotive and the first carriage, that wouldn’t work: the locomotive alone would then set off the mines on the tracks. That meant that the charges had to be placed in such a way that the locomotive itself would lead the way on any derailment. He would need to enter the locomotive itself and hope to find an access port of some kind that would let him place his charges close enough to the wheels. Second concern: how to reach the locomotive. He knew he was close, in relative terms; this crew compartment was, as far as Sherlock knew, one of the last before the engine itself. But even the distance to the front doors of this compartment seemed vast, from his current perspective. He wasn’t at all sure he could stand. He considered, briefly, fishing the remaining pain pills out of the rucksack. On consideration, though, he realized that he would hopefully be done with his tasks before they would take effect, and he needed his wits about him to prepare for the derailment itself. Finding a way to protect both himself and Gabe was essential—it was hard to say how extensive the damage would be since Sherlock had no effective way to judge how fast the train was going, nor how the train would react to leaving the tracks at speed. He put the rucksack back over his shoulders (after putting the large knife carefully inside), turned and crab-scuttled to the carriage doorway. Better to leave trying to stand until it was absolutely essential.       The necessity to stand came sooner than he would have hoped. He was able, after considerable maneuvering and some creative cursing, to open the carriage door into the vestibule between the carriages. But once he got into the cramped connecting space, he realized that he couldn’t employ the same method to open the next carriage. This one, apparently a maintenance and storage area, had a secured lock that was situated at chest height. Try though he might, he couldn’t think of any way to open it from his knees—just couldn’t get sufficient leverage, even if it hadn’t been secured by an electronic lock. He had also left his tyre lever behind, so brute force wasn’t an option. But he did see that the lock could be accessed by a key card, and he knew just where to secure one. All he had to do was…he needed to…he could do this. He could. In the end it took far too long for Sherlock to make himself return to the two dead men. He crept back, unable to force his eyes off the floor, try though he might. He kept his gaze rigidly along the front wall once he reached the open compartment, and crawled carefully parallel to that wall until he encountered the outstretched arm of the man Tarik Musa had tortured. Breathing carefully through his nose, he looked only at the crewmember, sliding his hands over the blood-drenched clothing until he felt a tell-tale hard edge in the pocket of the shirt lying open along the corpse’s left side. He slid his prize out and tucked it into his trouser pocket. Then, because he needed it and because he refused to allow his malfunctioning systems to dictate his actions, he forced himself to turn, pass Musa’s body (though he nonetheless couldn’t stop himself from keeping his eyes glued only to the floor) and secure the tyre lever from the far side of the room. Ignoring the low-level tremble that had now invaded his body, he turned and crab-crawled back to the exit door and into the connecting vestibule. The door into the maintenance carriage opened with ease, thankfully. Sherlock tucked the card back into his packets and continued his slow progress towards the front of the train. As the next doorway opened onto the connecting vestibule, he was gratified to see that he was now looking at the rear entry to the locomotive itself. The relief from that view lasted until he forced himself once more onto his protesting knees, stretched his arms up and held the security card to the reader—and nothing happened. Well, nothing other than a red “no entry” light, anyway. Sherlock sighed, tried once more, and then heaved himself up as high as he could, tyre lever in hand. He wedged the implement into the crack of the doorway and shoved with all his might, but the awkward angle meant that he couldn’t put sufficient pressure on the lock to break it. He tried, over and over, until he finally slammed the lever into the metal door in frustration and slumped against it, exhausted and, to be truthful, a bit frightened. But then, his slow-moving thoughts caught up with the situation, and he fingered the “necklace” currently draped around his shoulders. The charges were linked together, but each could be separated and used independently. The timer Gabe had given him, currently residing in the rucksack, would act on all of the charges collectively. But each contained an external switch—as Gabe had put it, “place the charge, hit the switch, and run like hell.” The tiny internal timer gave the user 15 seconds to get clear. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. Sherlock looked around for something to use to secure a silver ball to the door handle. It was too big to simply wedge in the opening between handle and door—some kind of webbing or wrapping was needed. In the end he crawled back into the maintenance carriage, and was pleased to quickly find some plastic netting that would do. He crawled back to the doorway, detached one ball, wrapped it very carefully in the mesh and secured the mesh itself around the door handle, made sure his return pathway was clear, then reached up and pushed the manual timer. The electronic pulse screeched in his ears as he scuttled quickly back into the maintenance carriage, pulling the door closed behind him. He had just reached the midsection of the carriage when there was a tremendous “whump” behind him, a blast of heat and pressure, and a violent rain of small and large pieces, one of which was apparently the door. He tried, and failed, to jerk himself out of the line of fire, and had just started to drop to his belly when there was a second deafening blast, and a piece of something hit him hard enough in the back of the head that he lost all interest in the proceedings.         When he awoke—well, not exactly “awoke”, as he never completely lost consciousness, but rather when he became coherent again—he was lying on his stomach in the walkway of the maintenance carriage, with bits and pieces of metal and plastic strewn over and around him. His head was pounding—he shakily lifted his good hand and felt the back of his skull, detecting no blood, thankfully, but a large and pulsing knot the size of the little steel balls he still wore around his neck. The second thing he became aware of was the silence—despite the train’s movement and the new, largish hole visible in the front of the carriage, Sherlock could hear nothing beyond a continuous dull roar. He reached his hand up to his right ear and encountered a small amount of blood trickling down the side of his neck. Ruptured eardrums, then. Annoying, but not critical at this juncture. He shoved himself roughly to his knees—that process grew more painful every time he did it. Random pieces of metal and plastic slid off his back as he did, and he shoved more out of his way as he crept back towards what had been the front door of the maintenance carriage. That doorway now no longer existed—instead there was a gaping piece blown out of the right front bulkhead, in addition to the now-missing door itself, which gave Sherlock a broad view of the (thankfully) now-open entrance to the locomotive itself. That entry door, of a heavier metal than the one used in the maintenance carriage, was not completely missing, but had been blown back violently to the side and was now essentially melded into the wall of the locomotive itself. Of rather more concern, however, was the fact that the floor plating in the vestibule between the carriage and the locomotive had also been blasted away, leaving only a narrow shelf to each side of the now-exposed coupling beneath. Sherlock could see the strobe-like flicker of railroad ties passing by underneath, which made the absolute silence more unsettling somehow. The most unfortunate aspect of that particular damage was that it meant that his current method of locomotion was not going to serve to bridge the gap. He would have to stand, and either bear his full weight on his damaged feet or pull himself across on one whole and one casted arm. Neither was optimal. First order of business, then, was to lever himself up. He scooted over next to the wall, where a grab handle was conveniently located close to the now-gaping opening. Wrapping the fingers of both hands firmly around the metal, he pulled himself up until he was kneeling only on his right side, and slid the less-damaged left foot onto the floor, hissing at the pain as he did so. That didn’t bode well for the future, since he needed to be able to bear virtually all of his weight on this foot (he had no illusions about the right foot—it continued to pound and throb without no stress on it at all). He modulated his breathing and did his best to cram all sensation away from his conscious awareness. Then he tightened his fingers around the handle, tensed his leg muscles, and simultaneously pulled with his arms and pushed (gingerly) with his left leg. And suddenly he was standing—well, swaying like a branch in a high breeze, actually, but erect. He waited, still weaving a bit, while his vision cleared, then dared to let go of the handle. He stayed up; he couldn’t resist a tiny glow of satisfaction. Sherlock considered trying to bring the tyre lever with him (assuming he could find it in the debris). He quickly realized, though, that he had no secure way to carry it, even if he were able to lift it off the floor without falling. As he was, then. He checked to make sure the rucksack was securely zipped; losing the timer/detonator for the charges would be catastrophic at this point. He could, if he had to, ignite them by pressing one of the manual switches, but he knew that choice wouldn’t be survivable, and he didn’t particularly want to die today. He edged himself over to the open vestibule and considered. His best option, clearly, was to use his arm strength to carry him across the gap, using his feet (well, foot) solely for balance. Thankfully there was a grid-like metal framework at the top of the structure. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be sure of its integrity, after the blast, but it would have to do. He scanned the gridwork, making sure he had his planned route firmly in his head before reaching up and grasping the first crossbar. It should be relatively quick—no more than 2 or 3 shifts before he could pull himself into the opening in the locomotive. He swung himself slightly forward and reached for the next bar, both feet leaving the ground as he let his momentum carry him up. He reached with his left hand for the second crossbar, slipped his fingers in, only to realize in horror that his cast prevented a full grip. But his weight was already committed, and he felt himself start to slip, unable to resist a glance down at the opening in the floor below him, the passing of the railroad ties. He shoved his hand in as far as it would go, his grip continuing to fail, and hurriedly shifted his body to pass his weight to the last crossbar. He managed to get his right hand gripped fully around the metal rod just as his left hand slipped completely loose, the sudden jerk slewing his body sideways and slamming him harshly against the broken metal opening. He gasped as raw metal edges plowed through skin along his ribs and side, but held on long enough to throw his weight through the opening onto the floor inside with a pained thump. He allowed himself almost a full minute on the floor, waiting for his heartbeat and breathing to fall back from their panicked levels. Then he reached up to the railing bolted to the side of the passageway, and hauled himself painfully back to his feet. The open area of the locomotive was surprisingly small, given the large size of the engine itself. The entry corridor was perhaps 12 feet long, lined with a variety of access panels of assorted sizes. At the end was a smallish control area, with two seats (now empty, of course) surrounded by a myriad of dials, levers and buttons. Most noticeable, however, was the large metal box anchored to the middle of the floor. Sherlock hauled himself forward, putting much of his weight on the handrail and ignoring the violent protests from his left foot (the right he held carefully off the ground, no matter how awkward that made his movements). The box, welded securely to the floor on all four sides, was roughly 12 inches square. No access ports, no hinges, no visible cables or wires running in or out. It was clear, though, that power was running to the box, presumably from underneath, since a variety of readouts on the top were lit and moving. Their purpose was largely unclear. But one item was unequivocal: a large clock was counting backwards, clicking steadily down. It didn’t take a genius to understand what that clock was referencing. And according to that timer, Sherlock now had 16 minutes before the train hit the mines. It was very difficult not to panic. He knew that his trip back to Gabe would be painful, uneven and, by necessity, not quick. Which meant that he had a vanishingly small amount of time to select a spot for the explosives, anchor and charge them, and then make his way to Gabe and secure them both in the car. He looked rapidly around the interior of the compartment, hoping for schematics, warnings, something that would give him a clue as to where to place his charges. Nothing. He knew he had no information on this subject in his Mind Palace—he’d made that quick search before leaving Gabe. Logic, then. He knew that his best option was to reach the rear set of wheels; damaging the front wheels would certainly ensure a derailment, but they were too well-protected by the body of the locomotive itself. Sherlock grasped the handrail again and hauled himself back down the corridor, looking at the various access panels and doors he had passed. He quickly identified his target: a panel labelled “Battery Fluid Access Feed”. He knew that the batteries, designed to feed power to the functions not involved with train propulsion, were located in the center base of the locomotive, and this access should feed roughly to the rear of the battery compartment. Good enough; based on the power produced by the single ball Sherlock had used on the doorway, the remaining 11 balls should be more than adequate to puncture the battery compartment and blast the wheels off the rails, pulling the remainder of the train with them as they went. He carefully fished his hellish necklace from around his neck and looped it around his left wrist. He reached out for the clasp of the access panel and popped it open, saying silent thanks that there was no locking mechanism. Once he removed the panel, he saw a rectangular tube, roughly 6 inches by 8 inches, with two pipes running down out of sight on the back wall. Hypothesis confirmed, then—this would give the explosives access to the bottom of the engine. He took one last look at the chain of steel balls, then reached down as far as he could with his left arm and let them drop, feeling a soft metallic vibration in the sidewall as they hit the bottom of the channel. He twisted and writhed until the rucksack slid down his arms, slid it off and opened the main compartment. The timer/detonator was in the bottom; Sherlock pulled it out and looked at the settings, calculating the remaining time before the train hit the mines, versus the estimated time to return to the car carriage and Gabe. He set the timer for 9 minutes, pushed the buttons, and dropped the detonator down the channel after the charges. Then he slid the rucksack back on and moved. This time, when he reached the destroyed vestibule between the carriages, he changed his tactics. Rather than trying to swing from his unreliable casted arm, he gambled everything on one single leap to the center of the space with both hands. He pushed off on his howling left foot, launched himself up and out, and managed to grasp the chosen crossbar briefly before swinging himself immediately onward, landing in a painful tumble through the destroyed doorway of the maintenance carriage. He quickly rolled himself onto his back, spotted the metal grab bar he had used before, and hauled himself erect again. He was critically aware of the continued countdown running in his head. From that point, the trip was largely pain and panic. Where he could, he forced himself along by pushing with his hands on each side of his path, using his left foot for balance. Where he couldn’t, he hopped, and fell, and hopped again. He lost track of the number of times he fell, except for calculating the amount of time it cost him to pull himself back up each time. The open carriages were the worst; in the end he reverted to crawling after his third agonizing encounter with one of the massive steel arms of the farm equipment. On the final stretch he used the struts of a cultivator to pull himself up again. He continued to use his arms for most of his locomotion, but that ended up leading to disaster. On his last shift of weight, in this last open carriage before the car carriage, he reached out for a side strut just as the train gave an abrupt lurch—nothing violent, but enough to make his hand just miss his reach and send him stumbling towards the open edge of the carriage. And instinctively he tried to catch his balance and stop himself—and his left foot planted itself full-force on the floor. Sherlock didn’t faint. He did fall over; he did gasp; his vision greyed out, and he dry-heaved twice before getting himself under control. But only his internal panic enabled him to shove himself back over, using just his arms, to the edge of the last piece of heavy equipment. He knew he had lost count, the surge of pain unsettling his internal clock. But he knew he now had less than 5 minutes. Which meant he had to be moving, right now. He gave up on standing; he was close enough now that it didn’t matter, and he wasn’t sure he could get up again regardless. He forced himself once more to his knees and took off as fast as he could, ignoring the howls from his abused shins. He scuttled quickly through the last vestibule, slammed the last door open, and pushed his way into the car carriage. “Gabe!” Sherlock panted, as soon as he made it through. “Move to the car.” He crawled as fast as he could, looking frantically around for his partner. “Gabe!” he called again, panicked at the lack of response. He passed the back of the car that had once held the rucksack and skidded to a halt as he saw the older man lying motionless at the front of the Maserati. “Gabe,” Sherlock found himself gasping, in a tiny, terrified voice, as he reached the big man’s side and slammed his hand to his jaw, searching frantically for a pulse. Sherlock's vision blurred in relief as he found it, a little faster than desired but there nonetheless. But now he was presented with a new problem. He had to somehow get both of them in the car, and he now had to do it without Gabe’s help. Gabe, who out-weighed Sherlock by at least 40 pounds. He quickly decided to prepare the car first. He scuttled over and opened both doors, making sure the belts were in proper position for easy use. Then he crawled back to his partner, forced himself under his back, and laced his left arm around Gabe’s chest before trying to shove both of them backwards towards the open door. He tried. He tried so hard, and it hurt. He managed, after nearly two minutes of agonizing work, to get them both positioned next to the car door. But then he tried to lever Gabe up into the car itself, and failed, over and over. By now Sherlock was sobbing, and gasping, and pleading to everyone, to no one, to a God he didn’t think he believed in, for help, without avail. And the clock continued to run, far too long. Finally, in desperation, Sherlock closed the car doors—the car itself was tightly secured to the decking, and with the doors closed the body of the car itself would provide greater protection and stability. He pushed, and tugged, and sobbed, and wedged Gabe’s lifeless form fully under the low body of the car, and then pulled himself as tightly against the older man as he could, working his good arm through the anchor cable and his bad arm under Gabe’s back. In the end, Sherlock closed his eyes, and tucked his chin into Gabe’s inert shoulder. And suddenly, there was a thunderous noise (that Sherlock felt rather than heard) from ahead, and a violent jerk, and then the world inverted, and exploded, and Sherlock was lost again.

TEN - ADORA It had taken a bit longer to finish up Catras deck than I would have liked, but I had changed a few things. Catra had drawn just a simple awning for shade in the summers, but with winter coming in a couple of months I made it more of a permanent cove. Thick insulated covers with plastic windows could be hung up so she still had somewhere to sit during the cold seasons. Instead of just an awning that came off the wall I built a (Simple but sturdy) roof that connected with the newly installed posts. It was her own little gazebo.  Scorpia and I had rushed to move some newly bought patio furniture in there so Catra would see it when she got up.  Scorpia and I then had to really rush to get to work on time.  It had been a challenge to keep Catra from noticing the changes I had made. We wanted it to be a surprise. Somehow we managed, plenty of tarps and promises of not looking out the windows were used. Thankfully Catra played along, begrudgingly and with loud protests.  It was all going to be worth it when she woke up however, and hopefully liked the changes made.  “Are you as nervous as I am?” Scorpia asked as she checked her phone. It was close to the time when Catra would usually wake and we were both nervous about her reaction.  Scorpia had really pulled through and helped, all the while Perfuma 'supervised’ but really just ogled her sweaty girlfriend.  I nodded, “Just a bit.” That was a lie. I was really really nervous.  What if Catra just really wanted some awning?  I would tear the whole thing down and restart.  “Could you not?” Mermista asked from the head of the table.  Lonnie nodded in agreement as she slapped another card on the table, her and Rogelio were playing an intense game of Uno while Mermista didnt seem as enthused to play a  part in.  Though from the looks of it she was winning. Poor Rogelio held like fifteen cards in his large hands.  “Sorry.” Scorpia groaned out, “Its just, this is a big thing for my Wildcat. That place isnt really something she has good memories tied to. So her whole, make it her own thing is really important. This is the first ‘major’ project we’ve done. I just really want her to like it.”  First? First major project? Great, no pressure. None what so ever.  Why the hell didnt Scorpia say that sooner? I would have asked before kind of doing my own thing.  Crap, what if Catra just absolutely hates it? And her first step into making her home hers is just ruined?  In the middle of my not so minor melt down I was aware of Scorpias phone going off.  “Shes up!” Scorpia all but jumped from her seat, as she inspected the text she got. It cant be that bad right? Scorpia was smiling. So maybe crisis averted?  My panic spiked once more as my own phone went off.  Glancing down I was really only met with confusion.  Catra: Alright.  Alright? :Adora Catra: Yah, alright.  The porch is alright? :Adora Oh I seriously messed up. It was ‘alright’. No one wants an ‘alright’ porch. No, Catra deserved a nice cozy one. I still had ten more hours on shift. I could slip in a nap before leaving and start tearing the whole thing down. I would need to stop and get lights so I can see what im doing in the dark. By the time I can have the thing stripped the stores should be open again so I can go get an actual awning.  Catra: The porch is great. Thank you for that. You did shockingly good work. Catra: Im saying alright to the date, dork.  This time I jumped up from my chair, “She said yes!”  “She said yes?” Scorpia seemed a bit confused Eagerly nodding and rereading the words so I knew for certain she had sent that last text, “To the date!”  Scorpia rounded the table and scooped me into a massive hug, happily squealing all the while, “Oh my goodness! Thats great news! So she liked it?”  My grin was in serious danger of splitting my face, “I think so! But she said yes!”  Rogelio slow clapped while Mermista groaned. Lonnie was smiling like a proud parent.  Scorpia had yet to put me down and even started to spin us around, “Aw! You guys would be so cute together!”  I patted her back in an attempt to get her to stop, “I have to respond.”  She set me down almost too quickly, “Right, right. Sorry. Where are you going to take her? What are you going to do?”  I shrugged, a bit dumbfounded, “I dont know yet. I dont think ive gotten that far.”  Yah I had thought up some different date ideas, but none of them really screamed Catra to me. She seemed to accept the flowers, and always responded to my good morning and good night texts, though she was still ignoring the sappy questions.  She worked at a bar so that was a no go. She didnt seem like the hiking type. I didnt want to do a movie because I wanted to talk to her, but maybe a movie and then dinner?  Catra: I have a feeling your being a nerd and celebrating, but a response would be nice.  Sorry. I totally was not celebrating. At all. :Adora Catra: Keep lying to yourself.  Is there anything in particular you would like to do? :Adora Catra: You're the romantic sap here, you choose.  Gladly. Im so excited! :Adora Catra: Couldnt tell.  Are you free tomorrow night? : Adora Catra: Eager much? Catra: I am Great. Ill pick you up at five. : Adora Catra: Get back to saving lives, dork.  Bow popped his head in, “Whats all the screaming about?”  I turned so I could face him, grin permanently on my face, “Catra agreed to a date!”  Bow squealed, doing a happy dance in the doorway, “Adora! Thats awesome!”  Mermista groaned, loudly, before throwing her cards down, “Yay, Adora can finally get laid. Can we stop all the yelling?”  Rogelio grunted but he had his own small smile.  Bow, in a quieter tone, “Im am so calling Glimmer right now. Shes gonna flip.”  Even the idea of my best friend maybe not taking the news as well as Bow couldnt put a strain on my excitement. Glimmer has voiced her opinion on my thing for Catra but really her main concern was me not getting hurt. Which she thought was too likely if I got involved with the moody woman.  I really couldnt care less right now.  I have a date with the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Not only that shes funny with her wit, sassy as all get out, and down right sexy. I was gonna do my best to swoon that smirk right off her pretty face.  The lights flashing shot me out of my day dream We all rushed to the garage. Getting prepared in record time and were speeding out onto the road with sirens blaring. Micah filled us in that it was a closet fire on the executive level of Dyrl security.  Entrapta worked for Dyrl, though she mainly worked from home. If I remember correctly Dryl was Entraptas business. She had always talked about it during high school, it had something to do with robotics. It was really hard to follow along with her whenever she explained it to me, though I had been happy to see she had actually managed to pull it off.  A closet fire on the top floor wasnt too concerning so long as we made in time for minimal damage. It was preferred over a ground fire that could take out the integrity of a tall building like Dryl.  Rogelio starting making our way up the stairs, luckily it was only a ten story building. Yay.  Bow was prepping the ladder with Lonnie just in case it got out of hand, though we hadnt seen any smoke upon arrival.  We were told no one made an effort to put out the fire due to the chemicals in the closet, smart on their half.  It took longer than the elevator would but we managed.  The only thing is, we couldnt spot any fire. Not even after we made a full sweep.  Grabbing the radio at my shoulder, “Hey, we’re clear up here. No sign of anything. Sure it was top floor?”  Micahs voice came through with minimal static, “Start a sweep down. Mermista and Lonnie will start a ground sweep and meet you in the middle.”  Rogelio shrugged as we made for the next floor down.  We didnt find anything or anyone until we reached the seventh floor. Where we were met with a group of bound and gagged people in white coats. They were trying to yell but couldnt make any words out through the rags stuffing in their mouths. Rogelio and I didnt get a chance to really take in what was happening before a masked figure stepped out from one of the cubicles. If the gun in his hand wasnt cause to freeze, the obvious bomb vest on him was.  Rogelio and I looked at one another, the panic in his eyes easily reflecting my own.  What the fuck did we just get ourselves into?  Another masked figure appeared out of one of the offices to the side, they too wore a bomb vest.  “Have a seat while we wait for your friends.” The one in the cubical said, gun pointed right at us.  Rogelio and I slowly lowered ourselves to the floor.  My radio was at my shoulder, I wouldnt be able to send out an alert in time. Not unless I wanted a bullet as a prize.  We sat in tense silence for what felt like forever but in reality could have only been a few minutes before the elevator pinged. Mermista and Lonnie were already bound and gagged as they were shoved out, another bomber at their back with another gun.  They were forced to their knees next to me, eyes wide and panicked.  The one who was now sitting in a chair just outside the cubicle, apparently the ring leader to this shitstorm, spoke, “Youre gonna do us a little favor. Get on that radio, let your friends know exactly what is happening.”  Rogelio and I glanced at one another, we were the only ones with radios not gagged. Who was going to give the news?  Apparently we took too long because an ear splitting bag sounded.  I watched in horror as one of the hostages slumped and stared lifelessly up at the ceiling, blood pooling around him.  “Tick tock.” The masked man growled out.  I raised my hand my walkie, “Micah?” It slipped my mind to even call him chief He must have heard something in my voice, “Is everything alright?”  I took a steadying breath, “No. Not really.” The man raised his gun again, apparently unhappy with how long it was taking. Rushing, “Theres hostages. Three bombers confirmed so far. We’re all on the seventh floor.”  There was a long pause, before, “What do they want?”  I raised my eyebrows at the man, never having taken my eyes off him.  He leaned back in his chair, “Try and stop us.”  That made no sense what so ever. What were they after? What was this about? Who were they?  I spoke into the radio, “He says to try and stop them.”  “Do they have a name?”  I couldnt see the mans face but I had a sick feeling that he was smiling, “All hail Lord Prime.”  My gut dropped. Prime cultists. In Brightmoon.  “Prime.” I choked out, almost forgetting to release the button on the radio to hear a response.  The cultist who brought Lonnie and Mermista up roughly started taking the radio off of Rogelio and myself.  I didnt get to hear a response as the radios were clicked off.  We were then bound and gagged.  My eyes never left the man at the cubical. I couldnt look away. If I did I would stare at the dead man too close to me. I would acknowledge the blood just an inch from my knees as it steadily made its way towards me.  So instead I focused on what I knew about the Cultists.  Each bomb threat previously had been called in. Every single one had been given a warning. Thaymor was the only successful incident of a bomb actually going off and their being casualties.  Every other instance they were able to clear people out, or disable the bomb.  In the instances of the infamous suicide bombers it was broadcasted live, feed only going out once the bomb set off. The cultists would give out long nearly euphoric speeches before pressing the little remote and taking the buildings down with them.  This was the first time I had heard of hostages.  Prime has been growing in infamy and becoming bolder in their movements. Was this their next step? Taking innocent lives down with them?  Not to mention, there were three bombers here. Previously there was only ever a record of one bomber per instance.  The man in the chair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I like that fire in your eyes, sister.”  I couldnt respond thanks to the gag currently shoved in my mouth, but I did let my eyebrow arch in question.  His chuckle was low and dark as his companions began to move around, “Do you seek eternal glory?”  I willed my breathing to calm, I wasnt going to give this guy the satisfaction of my panic.  So instead I turned my head to watch his companions. Which proved to spike my panic further.  They were setting up a tripod. A camera sitting idle on the floor.  They were going to go live with this.  He made a show of counting his hostages as his companions got things set up, “You have twelve hours before you find it.”  My heart beat erratically in my chest. There were ten hostages, include myself and the other three.  Three bombers, ten hostages. That was thirteen. Why had he counted us and then said twelve?  His companions had finished setting up and flashed him the all clear before he stood from his seat, moving to stand in front of the camera.  He didnt start speaking until the camera started flashing a small red light, “All hail Lord Prime.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “We seek Eternal peace. Today we share that with Dryl Robotics. We offer all of Brightmoon to rejoice and follow our sisters and brothers. We have new members with us today. All still clinging to their earthy attachments. Still corrupted from seeing the light.” He stepped aside so the camera could take in our huddled group of terrified, bound and gagged, “Each hour one of our brothers or sisters will find their Eternal rest. Find peace in Prime and glory through him. On the thirteenth hour, I too will follow them into the light. We will all soak in the offered peace of Lord Prime. And you are all free to watch, free to contemplate. Free to join us in our rapture.”  As if scripted, one of the bombers grabbed the nearest Dryl employee and brought him over to kneel in front of the camera.  The man from the cubicle reached down and gently caressed the cheek of the thrashing man, “Fret not, Brother. You will be bathed in light, free from all tethers. Blessed with Eternal rest.”  Right as he finished, a timer went off. Then the sound of another bullet meeting flesh.

Harry slept like the dead. Though he’d gone to bed no later than half past seven in the evening, he did not wake until nearly the same time next morning, his body stiff and aching slightly, and he knew immediately he had not moved an inch all night. He sat up slowly. His limbs felt as though they were tied down with weights; he stared with heavy lids at the sunlight seeping in under his bed curtains. The light swirled hypnotically the longer he looked at it. His head felt stuffed with cotton, his thoughts as slow and dull as if he were drugged. Which, he supposed with a slightly loopy smirk, he probably still was. Harry might have sat there forever, entranced by the strip of light, but he gradually became aware that his throat was very, very dry; he swallowed uncomfortably and commanded his sluggish arms to pull back the curtains with difficulty. He was met with the sight of Ron, sitting up and yawning widely, his arms stretched high over his head. “‘Morning….” he told Harry groggily. Harry swung his cement-filled legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, rubbing the sleep slowly out of his eyes. He let his arms drop heavily to his knees and stared at the pitcher of water on his bedside table, which appeared to be impossibly far away. “You alright?” Ron asked as he, too, moved to perch on the edge of his own bed, scratching his head and yawning again. He watched, frowning slightly, as Harry struggled to pour himself a glass of water. “Yeah,” Harry rasped after he’d taken a few sips, the water easing a cool trail all the way down to his stomach. “Think I slept too much,” he slurred, licking his lips. He snorted quietly in vague disbelief. He’d slept…. “Good,” Ron said with a resolute nod, and got up to search for his school robes. Yes, thought Harry, and he squinted blurrily at his pillow as the other boys began to stir, it was good.     Harry followed Ron and Hermione down to breakfast, listening to them bicker about something he did not possess the concentration to follow properly; the sound of it bothered him less than usual, however, and he found himself perfectly content to walk behind them silently, staring about. Everything looked somewhat surreal, like a fuzzy, out-of-focus dream, and the constantly looming threat of dizziness he’d got used to lately hovered even closer, making it necessary for him to grasp firmly onto the railings every time they descended a flight of stairs. As soon as Harry sat down next to Neville in the Great Hall, the same dishes he had requested the night before appeared in front of him, only the vegetables had been replaced with more fruit. Harry stared at them. A deep hunger surged to life in his belly, much stronger than his usual pangs, and his eyes wandered a bit guiltily to the other plates filled with bacon and eggs. Harry helped himself to a whole grapefruit, a handful of strawberries, several slices of apple, and, before he could talk himself out of it, a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a piece of bacon. He ate quietly, the sound of Ron and Hermione’s voices dulling to a drone in his ears, until Neville waved a hand in front of his eyes, asking anxiously if he was alright. Harry startled a bit, looking up to find the three of them watching him curiously. “Fine,” he assured them, and went back to his plate, only to find that it was already empty, including the bacon and eggs. A squirming sense of shame spread all the way out to his fingers as his friends resumed their conversations; he hadn’t meant to cheat, really he hadn’t, but he was so hungry. He wondered distantly if it was the sleeping tablets making him feel so ravenous…he couldn’t remember if that had been listed as a side effect or not…he would have to check when he got back to his room…. Breakfast finished in a blur, Harry doing his best not to stare off into space again, and he heaved his heavier-than-normal bag over his shoulder and trailed listlessly after Ron and Hermione to the Transfiguration classroom for their first lesson. Professor McGonagall strode up and down the rows of desks after they had all settled in, collecting homework. Harry sat silently when she came to him, having nothing to hand in, and as McGonagall stared down at him over the tops of her square spectacles, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, scrutinizing. “No homework, Potter?” Harry shook his head mutely, staring at a spot over her left shoulder, unable to meet her eyes. He wanted to apologise, but he did not know what to say, he had no excuse to offer – Harry braced for a reprimand, for points to be docked for his negligence, perhaps even for a detention…but McGonagall simply gave him one last look, the corners of her mouth turning downwards in the barest trace of a frown, and swept away to her desk. Harry and Ron stared after her in shocked disbelief. Never in living memory had Professor McGonagall neglected to punish someone for failing to complete her coursework. Harry expected Hermione to fume at this inexplicable show of indulgence or leniency or whatever it was, but she was instead staring over at McGonagall with a thoughtful look on her face as she slowly pulled her copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration out of her schoolbag. Transfiguration passed in much the same haze as the rest of the morning had done – Professor McGonagall paced slowly back and forth at the front of the classroom giving a complex lecture Harry could not even attempt to decipher, and his head drooped further into his hand as Hermione scribbled furious notes beside him. His lethargy lifted slightly towards the end of the hour, but that only made room for a low thrum of anxiety about his slip-up at breakfast to creep up under his skin, and he put his hands under the desk to scratch where Ron and Hermione would not see.     “What d’you reckon, McGonagall going soft in her old age?” said Ron as they left the classroom, elbowing Harry’s side as though congratulating him for winning some sort of contest. “She’s not that old,” Hermione said automatically, but her voice lacked any real reproach. She still looked pensive and, Harry thought, a little relieved, though he might have been imagining it – his surroundings still did not seem fully real to him. “I thought you’d be cross,” Harry told her. “She’s never let you off like that….” “Yes, well, she’s never had the occasion, I’ve always handed in my homework, haven’t I?” Hermione said reprovingly, but her expression relaxed a bit as she looked at him. “Come on, we’ll be late for Potions if we don’t move….” Hermione did not say anything further on the matter of Professor McGonagall’s behaviour, and Harry let the subject drop, reaching into his bag to pull out the Marauder’s Map instead. Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight of it, but Ron moved in closer to look over Harry’s shoulder, muttering, “What’s old ferret-face up to now?” Since the whole Dark Mark fiasco, Ron had seemed a bit keener on keeping tabs on Malfoy, and Harry, glad to have company at last in his 'obsession,' as Hermione liked to call it, readily shifted the Map to give Ron a better view as he tapped the parchment with his wand and mumbled, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Harry and Ron bent over the Map as the little black lines and dots appeared, and it took each of them only a second to find Draco Malfoy. They looked up at each other at the same moment, then turned to see over their shoulders in unison. According to the Map, Malfoy was not thirty feet behind them, but it was impossible to see him among the sea of students thronging the corridors. “He’s following us….” Harry murmured suspiciously. “Of course, he’s following us,” said Hermione a little impatiently. “He’s going to Potions, isn’t he, we all are….” But Harry could not accept this explanation: Malfoy had left the Transfiguration classroom well before they had, and as Harry continued to watch him on the Map, it seemed as though he was taking care to maintain that same thirty feet or so of distance behind him, Ron, and Hermione as they moved through the halls. Ron, like Harry, kept glancing back all the way to the dungeons. But Malfoy pretended to be searching through his bag every time they managed to catch him looking, and Harry tried to quell the disquiet that crept upon him as he warily considered any possible reason Malfoy could have for stalking the three of them through the castle like a slithering predator ready to spring.     Harry continued to keep an eye on Malfoy’s movements throughout the rest of the morning, and he spent so much time with his eyes boring into the back of that infuriating blond head of his in Potions that Hermione audibly sighed more than once and even Ron shot him a look of slight exasperation. But Harry continued to stare, as if he could somehow see through Malfoy’s thick skull to his brain, and see what it was he might be planning…. The weird, drugged-out state that Harry been stuck in since he’d woken up lifted almost completely by lunchtime. Regrettably, this only permitted him to feel even more uneasiness about Malfoy’s behaviour, not to mention a distinct resentful annoyance at Hermione’s refusal to take it seriously, and a keen awareness of the hunger pains that had not abated in the least since breakfast. He was in such a foul mood by midday that it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to stick to his planned food at lunch and refrain from snapping at Lavender Brown to shut up when she giggled shrilly at a joke Seamus told her. Dinner was much the same. Only it was made about five times worse by the fact that Romilda sat down two seats away from Harry, the barest tinge of purple in her cheeks the only sign of what been done to her – “Madam Pomfrey got Professor Slughorn to brew something up, it was a potion in my shower gel that did it, it was an easy antidote in the end….” she could be heard telling her friends – and in spite of Harry’s intense hunger, he suddenly felt the nasty urge to refuse to eat a single thing. It was only the memory of Ron’s disturbed expression at the sight of Harry’s weight loss that kept him in his seat, and he shoveled some mushrooms and peppers onto his plate with great reluctance. Harry went to bed early again, despite having been assigned another mountain of homework for the week. In the privacy of his four-poster he re-examined the packaging of the tablets Kreacher had got him...headache, dizziness, stomach pain, changes in appetite.... Harry frowned. That did explain it, then. He sat there for a moment, turning the box over idly in his hands, debating...was it really worth it? Bargaining a good night’s sleep for the risk of wanting to eat more than he should? But in the end the prospect of dreams full of screams and pain or, worse, dark broom closets, made the choice for him, and he quickly popped a second tablet out of its tray.     The following week fell into a pattern that Harry seemed to observe from the outside rather than participate in himself. Wake up. Slog through the morning. Rabbit food (Harry remembered wryly that that’s what Uncle Vernon had called it when Dudley had been sentenced to his diet). More rabbit food. Sometimes straying from that when his body managed to beat back his brain…guilt (desperate, awful guilt) when he did stray, and he scratched. Endless piles of homework, and he tried, he tried but he couldn’t focus. The days blurred together, and he needed sleep, and he took his tablets, and he was too tired. He was cold. He was frustrated and worried and hungry, so hungr – “Will you please put that map away?” Harry glanced up at Hermione in annoyance, though her tone when she badgered him about his preoccupation with Malfoy had shifted more towards pleading than disapproving the past few days. “You never tell Ron to quit looking at it, do you, and he’s just as convinced as I am that Malfoy’s up to all this Junior Death Eater rubbish….” Harry pointed out, regretting that Ron was already down at dinner waiting for them; he could have used the backup. His eyes found the Slytherin’s dot again, which was positioned, predictably, not very far away from him and Hermione at the moment. “No, I don’t,” Hermione said meaningfully, but she did not say anything else as they descended a narrow staircase. Deciding not to even attempt to interpret that, Harry ignored her and kept his gaze trained on the Map – ever since Monday morning, Malfoy had been sticking to Harry, Ron, and Hermione like glue – well, this wasn’t exactly true. He’d been sticking to Hermione like glue. Harry had checked the Map as often as he could between classes and meals, and, almost every time, Malfoy had been there, lurking somewhere behind them – except for when it was only Harry and Ron. Malfoy seemed to lose interest then. Sometimes Harry caught sight of him on the Map, loitering outside the library or a bathroom, like he was waiting for Hermione to come out. Harry’s insides writhed and seethed furiously at the thought, a venomous hatred pulsing in his brain, and he glanced over his shoulder again, catching a glimpse of Malfoy’s pale, pointed face through the group of fourth year Ravenclaws that stood between them. Making up his mind on the spot, Harry decided that the time for caution had long since passed and he hastily refolded the Marauder’s Map and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Got to go to the bathroom – you go on, I’ll see you in a minute,” he told Hermione quickly as they came around a corner, already turning away from her. “Hurry up!” she called after him, and she disappeared down another staircase. Harry doubled back to the corner of the corridor and leaned against the wall, doing his best to appear casual and thoroughly innocuous as the cluster of Ravenclaws walked past. A couple of the girls giggled when they saw him, which did nothing to improve Harry’s frazzled nerves, and he just barely stopped himself fixing them with a withering glare. A minute later, they had also climbed down the stairs, and then there was only one more set of footsteps making their way up the hallway. Harry waited silently, barely breathing as he drew his wand. Malfoy came around the corner and Harry sprang forward, seizing the front of Malfoy’s robes, ignored the outraged “HEY!” that echoed furiously through the halls, and pulled him roughly around to slam him up against the wall. In the split second that Malfoy was frozen in surprise, Harry brought his wand up, jabbing it threateningly into the side of his neck. Malfoy immediately began struggling, clutching at Harry’s wrists as though the touch of the wand at his throat had released him from his shock. Malfoy’s nails bit into Harry’s flesh, and Harry let a low growl, yanking Malfoy away from the wall and slamming him back again…blood was pounding in his brain, a blinding rage surging up inside him, rushing up his throat, making his face burn and his fist close even more tightly around his wand…. “Get off of me!” Malfoy snarled, stray strands of his blond hair flying around his face as he plunged a hand into his robes and pulled out his own wand, pushing it sharply up underneath Harry’s chin, right over his jugular. But Harry did not release him, and they both stood there, breathing heavily, with their wands pressed against each other’s throats, glaring at one other with unadulterated hatred and disgust. “Why have you been following her?” Harry demanded through clenched teeth, twisting Malfoy’s robes viciously in his fist. Something like astonishment flickered in Malfoy’s grey eyes, and Harry felt a savage burst of satisfaction; Malfoy had not been aware that Harry knew exactly what he was doing. But Malfoy’s face contorted into an ugly grimace as he spat, “Who?” “You know exactly who I mean! Hermione, you slimy little – ” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter. Why would I possibly want to follow that little Mudblood around?” Harry’s vision nearly went blurry with rage as adrenaline coursed through his veins, his ability to keep from hexing Malfoy into oblivion hanging on by barely a thread. A sharp pain flared suddenly in Harry’s chest, and then his vision really did seem to be going blurry as a wave of dizziness overtook him. “I know it was you, Malfoy, the graffiti, that Dark Mark,” Harry panted, trying desperately to hold himself together as another pain flared in the region of his heart. “You’re not going to get away with this, you’ll be chucked out for good…I know it was you,” he said again, pushing his neck even more firmly against Malfoy’s wand, half-wishing Malfoy would try something, would give Harry an excuse to fight him, to unleash all the anger and frustration and panic that had been simmering underneath the surface for so long. But Malfoy shoved Harry away from him, and Harry’s grip broke easily as another swell of lightheadedness crashed over him. Malfoy straightened his robes with a few sharp tugs and ran a hand smoothly over his head, slicking his hair back into place as he smirked at Harry. “Prove it,” he whispered. Harry glared at him, his breath catching harshly, channeling the force of his outrage and loathing to keep himself on his feet. “You stay the hell away from Hermione, you understand me? You touch her and I swear I’ll – ” “You'll what? It’s a free country,” said Malfoy, “And I don’t take orders from stinking half-bloods….” He looked Harry briefly up and down, his lip curling as he took in the sweat at Harry’s brow, his heaving chest, the hand shaking around his wand. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?” he sneered. “Golden Boy of Gryffindor losing his nerve?” Malfoy gave a derisive snort and set off down the hall, bumping Harry’s shoulder forcefully as he went. Harry wanted to turn and go after him, to call out a retort, to do something to wipe that bloody smirk off his face, but it was all he could do to stagger unsteadily over to the wall as Malfoy disappeared around the corner. Harry dropped more than sunk onto the floor, leaning heavily against the wall and gasping for breath, clutching at his chest, which was now bursting with pain. With sharp, jerky movements, Harry dug out the Invisibility Cloak and swung it over himself, cringing at the thought of anyone coming along to see Harry Potter sprawled out, sweating and trembling helplessly on the floor. The pain in his chest seemed to be suffocating him, and Harry wondered suddenly if he was having a heart attack. It was beating so fast in his ears…what if he died, right here in this hallway? A hysterical thought popped wildly into his head, and he wondered if he shouldn’t take the Cloak off so no one would trip over his body – But after a few minutes, the pain lessened, and then dissipated, and he could breathe again. Harry pulled himself shakily to his feet, still trembling underneath his father's Invisibility Cloak. He stared at the spot of stone floor where he’d just been sitting, as though expecting some sort of dark apparition to rise up out of it and attack him. Harry shook himself, rubbing his knuckles nervously against his hand, and set off quickly down the corridor, keenly aware that he was already very late for dinner, and that Ron and Hermione would be wondering where he was.     A cool, slight breeze ruffled Harry’s hair as he walked along, the vast blue sky silent above him. His footsteps were muffled and uneven, and he looked down, discovering with pleasant surprise that he was walking upon clouds as white and fluffy as fresh marshmallows…well, of course. Why shouldn’t he be walking on clouds? Everyone did. Patterns swirled hypnotically up in the atmosphere, winding and curling like snakes, and Harry leapt gently off the surface of clouds and floated up to one of them with ease, thinking that it was really very pretty…he reached out his fingers, and touched it – the swirling thing broke open, and a murder of crows, each with six bulging eyes and four ravaged wings, burst out of it, flapping around him in a frenzy, attacking his face, his hands, pecking at his eyes, and Harry threw his arms over his face, curling into himself as the murder bore down upon him, driving him down through the clouds, and Harry was falling, falling fast…. The crows disappeared as suddenly as they’d come, and Harry looked around to find that he was standing in a dark cave, rosy pink firelight flickering sinisterly off the damp walls. He was naked. There were disembodied eyes, scarlet and slit-pupiled like a cat’s, staring at him from every dark corner, and he backed away, hitting a wall, out of which long, thorny vines grew in an instant, winding around his legs and arms, binding him against the clammy surface. Terror exploded in his stomach, and he opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out...a school bell rang, loud and sharp, echoing around the cave, whose floor kept shifting and changing like quicksand, and a girl appeared in a puff of purple smoke right next to the pink fire, roasting squares of chocolate over the flames as though she’d been sat beside it all along. She smiled at Harry as the chocolate dripped into the fire, each drop transforming into a tiny Snitch as it fell, and then flying away before Harry could catch it…he strained at the vines holding him to the cave wall…. The girl laughed, an ugly screeching sound, and suddenly she was standing right in front of Harry, her dark hair swirling around her. She caressed his face with a hand that felt like sandpaper, and Harry knew that if she wanted to she could score the flesh right off his skull…. The vines holding him down disintegrated to ash as she pressed her body to his, but still he could not move. She kissed him then, a thick, bubbling liquid pouring into his open mouth, choking him – the girl stepped back and looked at Harry sadly. She spoke, and her voice echoed as though there were three of her speaking together. “I’m so glad you came to see me. I’ve been waiting. I’ve been eating rats to survive, you see….” She gestured over to a pile of little skeletons, and only their eyes remained, staring back at Harry blankly…. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Harry wanted to say, and he wasn’t sure whether he meant it for the rats or the girl, but he suddenly found that he had no mouth, only a smooth stretch of skin below his nose, and he looked down at his own body to find that he was a skeleton, too, as if all his flesh had been melted away. “It’ll be okay,” the girl soothed. “You have me, now….” And Harry’s horrified gaze found her face, which was now grey and taut – she looked dead. Dead like the four corpses standing behind her with sunken expressions of accusation and hatred on their gaunt faces as they looked at Harry, blaming him, he knew, for what had become of them…. ‘I’m sorry!’ Harry tried to tell them. ‘I’M SORRY!’ But he still did not have a mouth, and his body was fading away…the dark-haired girl stepped up to him again, whispering, “I can help you…” and moved into him, so that she became a part of him, and their bodies became one body, and Harry screamed, clawing at his bare bones – With an almighty wrench, Harry dragged himself out of sleep and into wakefulness, still screaming so loudly he thought his throat might tear, the taste of iron on his tongue. His body attempted to thrash, to bolt up, but it was paralysed, stuck to the sweaty sheets as though a giant mass were sitting on top of him, pinning him to the bed. His scream cut off abruptly with a choked, desperate whimper – his lungs were frozen in his chest, his brain starved for oxygen, and with an enormous push of willpower, Harry forced his lungs to fill, to expand, and he sucked in the deepest breath he’d ever taken in his life. Sweat poured off of him, his heart hammering fit to burst, and a sharp pain in his tongue told him he had bitten it in his sleep. Panic pounded through him, still unable to move, and he stared, wide-eyed, up at the canopy of his four-poster, trying to get his brain to communicate with his muscles. It felt like he was Petrified – terror slammed his heart against ribs, and he choked on a sob. Move, he snarled at his mind, move, move, move, move, MOVE! His fingers twitched. His knees jerked. Slowly, the feeling returned, and he was able to drag himself up to rest against the headboard, panting heavily. He realised his face was wet with more than just sweat, and he thrust a hand jerkily back behind his pillow, seizing hold of his wand like a lifeline and clutching it to his chest. “L-l-lumos,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He coughed and tried again. “Lumos!” His bed filled with light, and amongst the shadows cast by his rumpled bedspread, he saw a smear of blood on his sheets. Harry stared at it. He repositioned his wand and raised his trembling hands to his eyes. The outsides of his wrists were torn open again. The damage was not nearly as bad as it could have been, and a small part of Harry was grateful that he had not been able to move properly in his sleep – he could not have asked Ginny to heal him again. The look in her eyes if he did was enough to make him want to crawl straight into a hole to shrivel up and die. Harry clenched his hand into a fist, feeling the congealed blood underneath his fingernails, and he threw back his covers, forcing his wooden legs over the side of the bed. He doused his wand and pulled back his hangings. He had to make it to the bathroom. He had to clean himself up, but he didn’t know if he could even stand…. Harry rose slowly, clutching at his bedpost for support – he could hardly feel his feet under him – the bathroom seemed miles away, and he tamped down the urge to give into despair. He focused every last particle of his brain on putting one foot in front of the other. He stumbled unevenly, barely making it to the bathroom doorway before he collapsed. His knees gave out and hit the floor with a sickening flash of pain and he bit down on a grunt, determined not to wake the others. Harry half-crawled into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a shaking hand. He stared up at the sink, yearning for a drink of water, for a splash on his flushed, sweaty face, but he did not even have the energy to prop himself up against the wall, and he crumpled weakly onto the freezing floor, rolling over to stare at the underside of the counter, his heart thumping madly again from exertion. The desire to call out for Ron like a child in the night rushed up inside him, and he felt traitorous tears prick at the corner of his eyes again as he lay there, prone and miserable. Harry curled up, like he had in his dream, and he pressed his eyes shut at the phantom sensation of gruesome, six-eyed crows pecking him all over, stabbing, hurting him. Ever since he had started taking the sleeping tablets, he had slept more solidly, but almost every day he had woken up with vague memories of strange, eerie dreams that left him slightly on edge all morning. But tonight…tonight had been something else entirely. His nightmare had been so…real. Vivid and disturbing and unnervingly psychedelic, he had never had a dream quite like it. The image of his skeletal body intruded sharply, and he opened his eyes, looking down at himself just to make sure he was still all there. His hand twitched up to his mouth, feeling for his lips…. Four corpses staring back at him through empty sockets…. Harry shuddered, forcing his eyes shut again. He lay there for what felt like hours until some modicum of strength returned; he carefully placed his trembling palms against the floor and pushed himself up. He rested briefly against the sink before grasping the edge of the counter and hauling his shaking, shivery body to its feet. Determinedly avoiding looking at his reflection, Harry turned on the tap and stuck his hands under the stream, rubbing lightly at the dried blood. He winced at the sting, but when he was done they looked much better. Or he thought they did, anyway. He had left his glasses beside his bed. Harry splashed some water on his face, washing away the salty remains of the sweat and tears, and gulped down a few mouthfuls, feeling marginally better. Breathing as deep and even as possible, Harry hobbled to the door and opened it, startled nearly out of his skin to find Dean waiting beside the door, squinting and sleep-mussed, on the other side. “Harry,” Dean whispered. “I was just about to knock, you’ve been in here for – are you okay?” he asked suddenly, taking in Harry’s appearance. Harry could not see Dean’s expression clearly without his glasses, but there was a slight note of concern in his voice, and Harry thought he saw his eyes flick down to Harry’s wrists, which Harry shoved hurriedly behind his back. “Yeah,” Harry whispered back. “Sorry, all yours.” He let Dean past him; Dean cast him another fleeting look and closed the door. Harry dragged himself back over to his bed and dropped onto it wearily, his brain teeming with uncomfortable, unwanted thoughts. Abruptly, he shoved a hand under his pillow, pulled out the package of sleeping tablets, and threw them into the drawer of his bedside table, closing it firmly. Well, that was the end of that, Harry sighed to himself. Tonight had been ten times worse than any of his normal nightmares, and if he was being honest with himself he was a little relieved to have an excuse to stop; the dreamlike numbness that had coloured his whole week had been, he had to admit, nice in a way. But it certainly wasn’t doing him any favours as far as his schoolwork situation went, which was now beyond desperate. He was certain he was in danger of failing about half his classes at this point. However, without a doubt the worst part had been all the extra food he had been unable to stop himself from consuming. Not to mention the fact that he’d felt so drowsy and slow that he hadn’t managed to drag himself out of bed once for a morning run…a restless hum of anxiety pulsated just underneath his skin…. Dean came out of the bathroom and got back into bed. Ron muttered something in his sleep that sounded like ‘can’t go to the dance, got to help take these flowers to the zoo, I’m the manager’ and Harry allowed himself a small grin. He turned over and stared at Ron’s raised silhouette, thinking. He’d just have to be a bit stricter with himself. That was the safe thing. And the only way to make up for this last week – no more options or choices or leeway, he just had to grit his teeth and do it. Something subsided in him at the thought, like a monstrous serpent being lulled back into a doze, and Harry reached eagerly over to his alarm clock, setting it early enough for his run. After a second’s thought, he pushed it back another half hour. He’d need time before breakfast to go down to the kitchens and tell the house-elves about the adjustments that needed to be made. Harry buried his face in his pillow, thoroughly exhausted, and closed his eyes – the vivid, too-real images of his dream threatened to overwhelm him, and once or twice his eyes snapped open, expecting to see dozens of scarlet eyes staring at him from the shadows. Eventually, the sound of Ron’s quiet snores and the promise of much more manageable days on the horizon eased him to sleep.     A storm was raging outside the window when Harry’s alarm went off, testing his resolve to follow through with the plan he’d outlined for himself, and he momentarily let his eyes slip closed again, sinking back into his mattress, before he sat up with a jerk, jumping out of bed as suddenly as if he’d been poked with a cattle prod. No choice, you’ve got to go, you said you’d go, Harry told himself firmly, and he shoved his glasses sleepily onto his face, taking comfort once again in the idea of a decisive, clear-cut routine, even as a flash of lightning cracked apart the sky outside the dormitory, followed by a low, ominous roll of thunder. He had to stop by the kitchens first anyway, and the storm might have blown itself out by then. Gathering up his things, Harry left the dormitory, closing the door quietly behind him, and ran through his list of meals in his head, over and over again like a recitation, all the way down to the kitchens so that he wouldn’t forget.     Ron and Hermione were not happy with him. At all. Nor was Ginny, for that matter, who had taken to sitting right next to Harry at meals whenever Dean was not with her. None of them had actually said anything outright, yet, but he did not know how long that was going to last – their pointed looks from his plate, to his set jaw, and back again spoke volumes. As did the way they kept pushing dishes of food towards him, though, true to his promise to himself, he had so far wordlessly refused to touch any of it. He had to follow The Rules, and The Rules told him exactly what he was allowed to have: Breakfast: half a bowl of cornflakes with milk, or one grapefruit. Lunch: an apple, a salad with tomato, and broth. Dinner: Tomatoes, broccoli, and carrots, one cup each. No snacks. End of. Water. Tea. No sugar, no cream. Any more than that, and it was an extra lap around the Quidditch pitch. Even though sneaking out was a bit trickier these days – there were now security trolls posted outside all the secret passages during the night in addition to the rotation of Aurors guarding the front doors. But this had not stopped him in the end – Harry knew how to get by trolls, after all. Perhaps Ron, Ginny, and Hermione sensed that attempting to reason Harry into eating more would be ineffective (which, Harry thought with a fierce twinge of self-satisfaction, it would be), or perhaps it was the fact that Harry had now secretly started wearing two jumpers under his robes that eased their worry enough for them to refrain from commenting on his stringent eating habits. Harry knew he had lost several more pounds, and something told him that unless he kept it from showing, he was not going to like the consequences. The tension between all four of them was palpable. Harry, who had already been trying to avoid too much contact with Ginny, was now doing everything in his power to make sure they did not run into each other in the halls or the common room, made more than a little difficult by the fact that Ginny was having none of it. She made an effort to engage him in conversation, even when he did nothing but mumble lame responses at her, and she continued to wave or smile at him when they saw each other outside of meals, even if he pretended he did not see it. She insisted on treating him normally, even as he was trying his best to pull away from her, and it was truly, inexpressibly maddening. Ron and Hermione were taking much the same tack. Even though neither of them were directly trying to address Harry’s behaviour at mealtimes anymore, Hermione always seemed to attempt to bring the subject of food up organically. She would start conversations about the new line of sweets Honeydukes had come out with, or the best Christmas dinners they had ever had, or an interesting book of wizarding recipes she had found in the library. Harry largely ignored these attempts, partly because he knew exactly what she was trying to do, and partly because he had tried to warn her to watch out for Malfoy, that he was tailing her for some as yet unknown nefarious reason, and she had told him that he was being ridiculous, a transgression for which Harry had yet to forgive her. Harry had told neither Hermione nor Ron about his confrontation with Malfoy, and he did not think it to be a wise idea at this point, for Ron, despite hating and suspecting Malfoy quite as much as Harry did, seemed to have taken it into this head to appoint himself Harry’s keeper. Every time Harry tried to disappear to his bed hours early, or go to the library by himself, Ron provided some excuse for Harry to stay, or be accompanied, as if he was of the opinion that Harry was spending too much time alone. An opinion Harry might have shared, if only Ron were acting a bit more like himself. As it was, Ron had become almost…Hermione-ish, expressing the concern that Harry was putting off too many homework assignments, and teaming up with Hermione to make a weekly schedule for Harry to follow so he did not fall too far behind. Harry privately and grudgingly agreed that Ron perhaps had a point, but it did not stop him missing his best mate and how things had been only weeks ago, before everything had got so…complicated.     Harry let out a low sigh, tapping his quill rhythmically against the side of the table. He had decided to try to work out a response to Lupin – the man had sent another letter full of thinly-veiled worry, apparently having dismissed Harry’s claims that all was well – taking the opportunity to do it while Ron and Hermione had been called away to a Prefects’ meeting. But he could not think at all what to say. He stared dejectedly across the common room, watching a couple of third years have a riotous belching contest, empty Butterbeer bottles strewn about the floor around them…Harry wondered distantly if there was an acceptable way to say ‘I really don’t want to talk about Sirius, or anything else, thanks, but if you would keep sending letters anyway, that’d be great because it helps’ but somehow he didn’t think so…. The portrait hole opened and Ginny clambered through. Quickly averting his eyes, Harry focused on the letter before him and prayed that she would not stop to talk to him. As usual, however, the great cosmic forces of the universe did not see fit to take what he wanted into account, and Ginny came over, falling into the seat across from him and plunking down a plate of chicken and potatoes. “Hey. What’re you working on?” she asked him. “Letter,” Harry grunted, still staring at the parchment. “To whom?” “Lupin.” “Oh, I miss him,” Ginny said fondly, and Harry could hear the small smile in her voice. “I wish he could have stayed on as Defence teacher, he was a right sight better than Snape." She said Snape's name like a curse word, and Harry suffered a twinge of endearment. "Anyway, I brought you some dinner – roast chicken. Your fa-a-avourite!” She said in a sing-song voice, nudging the plate a bit closer to him. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering up ever-so-briefly to meet hers before looking back down quickly as though he’d been burned. “You’re not, huh?” Her tone was neutral enough, but there was the faintest undercurrent of a challenge. “I already ate my dinner.” “You didn’t have dinner, Harry. Or lunch.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and Harry knew that if he were to look up he would see that hard, blazing look in her eye again. “Just because I wasn’t in the Hall doesn’t mean I didn’t eat anything,” Harry said coolly, brushing the feathered tip of his quill across his fingers. “I went down to the kitchens.” He turned his head to watch the third years with the Butterbeer again to avoid the temptation to look at Ginny. He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head. They sat there together in silence for a moment. “Damn it, Harry….” said Ginny, so quietly it was almost a whisper, and it sounded so unguarded that his heart twisted with guilt. Just then Dean came down the boys’ stairs and spotted Ginny. “Ready to go?” he asked her when he had crossed over to them, and Harry had never thought he’d be so glad to have Dean interrupt them. “Yeah, let’s go for a walk, we can go by the greenhouses. I’ve been dying to see Professor Sprout’s new Flame Flowers – Neville told me about them,” Ginny said, giving Harry one last glance. She stood and heaved her bag over her shoulder. “Flame Flowers?” Dean asked curiously. “What do they do?” “They don’t do anything,” Ginny explained. “They’re non-magical, they’re just nice to look at.” “Well that’s a bit boring,” Dean complained, and Harry felt a stab of annoyance, his eyes trained on his paper again. Was it so difficult to just go see some stupid flowers with her? The two of them turned to go, and Ginny added loudly, “Maybe we can stop by the kitchens on the way. I’m quite sure the poor house-elves haven’t had much company lately….” And she disappeared through the portrait hole hand-in-hand with Dean. Harry tried to focus on the letter before him but had to give it up as a bad job. He twirled his quill in his hands and looked sideways at the plate of chicken. He supposed, really, that it wouldn’t be so bad to have some – in spite of what he’d told Ginny, he hadn’t had anything since his grapefruit that morning, which meant he had some calories to spare. He was a bit hungry…and Ginny had taken the trouble to bring it up for him…. So? said a nasty little voice in the back of his head. She left you to go off with Dean…. Besides, what was it to him if he didn’t get lunch or dinner – he had gone far longer with less at the Dursleys’, and he didn’t really like to eat meat anymore anyway. Rolling up the nearly-blank parchment with a few sharp movements, Harry snatched up his quill and headed for the staircase, but his foot had hardly touched the first step when someone called his name. He turned to see Ron and Hermione coming in through the portrait hole. “How was the meeting?” Harry asked them after they’d fought their way through the sea of people returning from dinner. “It was great – ” “Yeah, a great big load of sh – ” Hermione cut him off with a sound like an angry cat, nodding pointedly at the first years sitting within hearing distance, and Harry smirked. Ron shook his head bitterly. “Why have we got to sit there for half an hour and talk about the Hallowe’en decorations the school’s going to put up? I mean, call me in two weeks’ time when they actually need putting up and until then….” He snapped his fingers as though a brilliant idea had just occurred to him. “You know, I bet they’re concerned we wouldn’t be able to take all the suspense,” he nodded sagely. Hermione mouth twitched in a smile, and she turned back to Harry. “Listen, Ron and I were talking, let’s go down to Hagrid’s, we haven’t been in ages….” “Tonight?” Harry blinked. “Yes, why not, we have some time before curfew – I saw him at lunch and he threated to sic Fang on us if we didn't come down to see him soon,” she said, clucking her tongue. This was, after all, not much of a threat as Fang was about as harmless as a newborn bunny. “It’s only just over an hour till I’ve got to be at Dumbledore’s office,” Harry reminded her with a stab of regret. As eager and anxious as he was to begin his second lesson with Dumbledore, the thought of seeing Hagrid loosened the ever-present knot in his chest ever so slightly. Ron shrugged. “We don’t have to stay for long. C’mon, it’ll do us all some good….” “Yeah, alright,” Harry conceded, and Ron and Hermione beamed. They dashed upstairs to get their cloaks and ten minutes later they were striding down the sloping lawn in the crisp autumn air towards Hagrid’s hut, where they could already see lights in the windows as dusk faded to darkness around them. A gentle breeze blew up from across the lake, carrying the faint sound of crickets and the hoot of an owl. For a second, Harry felt almost completely at peace with the world, and some of the worries that had been wrapped around his heart like a straitjacket fell away. Fang’s booming barks sounded from within Hagrid’s hut as they approached, and they heard Hagrid’s voice attempting to quiet him. Hermione made a nervous little noise behind Harry, and he looked round to see her staring warily at Buckbeak, who was secured to a post just outside the front door. Ron caught Harry’s eye and rolled his own, and Harry patted Hermione’s arm lightly, fighting back a grin as they climbed Hagrid’s front stairs. Harry raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door swung open and Hagrid’s massive frame filled the threshold, Fang jumping at his back. “Who’s tha’ – ? Oh, it’s you three,” he boomed cheerfully, smiling down at them, and he stood back to let them past. “Come in, come in – no, down, Fang – finally remembered me, have yeh?” He chuckled, but Harry glanced up at him, frowning, as they all removed their cloaks and sat down at the scrubbed wooden table, Fang bounding over at once to lay his head upon Harry’s knee – he thought he had seen Hagrid’s face fall for a split second after he’d opened the door. “What have yeh lot bin up to, then?” Hagrid asked them, his back turned towards them as he rummaged about in the cupboards and started hot water going for tea. “We’ve been terribly busy,” Hermione told him, looking slightly harassed. “There’s so much to learn this year, I don’t know how we’ll ever get through it all….” “Agh, yeh’ll get through it jus’ fine, always do, don’ yeh? Brains like yers?” he said, bringing over a tray laden with three enormous mugs, a cup the size of a small bucket, a teapot, and plate of rock cakes. “All three o’ yeh,” he added gruffly, winking at Harry and Ron. Hagrid poured out the tea and passed a steaming mug to each of them. Harry wrapped his hands around his gratefully, soaking up the warmth. “I’m sorry we didn’t carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid,” Harry blurted out, and he meant it. None of the other sixth years had signed up, either, and Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. “We wanted to. We really did, it’s just – ” He glanced at Ron and Hermione for help, but they merely grimaced. Hagrid, however, waved him off. “Never mind, knew yeh probably wouldn’t be able ter, in the end,” Hagrid smiled, though a bit sadly. “‘Sides now I can spend a bit more time with Grawpy, he’s learnt nine more words – nine! An’ Dumbledore’s got ‘im all set up with a nice big cave in the mountains, now – good thing, too, he was always scarin’ the unicorns an’ the Thestrals right outta their wits on account of rippin’ up all those trees when he was livin’ in the Forest, poor things….” “Well, that’s – er – good,” Hermione offered. “And you are being careful, Hagrid, aren’t you, I mean, you are being safe….” “O’ course I’m safe, Grawpy wouldn’ hurt a fly, least not on purpose anyways, he’s too sweet,” said Hagrid, taking several big gulps from his massive cup. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other and looked away very quickly; ‘sweet’ was the very last thing any of them would have chosen to call Hagrid’s little brother, who had, on the last occasion Harry and Hermione had met him, terrorised an entire group of angry centaurs into fleeing for their very lives. Hermione coughed and changed the subject to the decorations going up for Hallowe’en (“I thought we’d decided it was too early to be talking about this,” Ron muttered to Harry out of the corner of his mouth) and Hagrid spent the next fifteen minutes proudly informing them on the status of the giant pumpkins he was growing for the Great Hall in the vegetable patch behind his house. There was a blazing fire going in the hearth, and the heavy weight of Fang’s head on Harry’s knee was a soothing comfort – he sipped at his tea, the mug still warm under his fingers, and listened to Hagrid talk as he sank into a comfortable drowsiness. “So, how’s yer Quidditch practice comin’?” asked Hagrid, and Harry sat up a bit straighter, blinking. “Great,” said Ron, attempting to take a bite of rock cake then setting it gingerly back down on the table as he massaged his jaw. “The Cup’s got Gryffindor’s name on for sure, really good team this year, and Harry’s a brilliant captain – ” “Of course he is,” Hermione said staunchly, and Harry could not help grinning at both of them. “When’s yer first match?” “Six weeks,” Harry told him. “Slytherin.” “And yer up for it, are yeh?” Hagrid asked, eyeing Harry with the same troubled look in his eyes he’d had when he had first opened the door and clapped eyes on the three of them. “Yeah,” said Harry, taken aback. “Why?” “Dunno,” Hagrid said, turning his cup in hands, still surveying Harry’s face with a deep frown. “Yer lookin’ a bit pale, is all. Thinner, too, I reckon. Have yeh been ill or summat?” “No,” said Harry, a bit defiantly, and he looked to Ron and Hermione to confirm this, but they were both staring back at him steadily with expressions that said quite plainly that they agreed with Hagrid. Hermione’s jaw wiggled slightly, as though debating whether or not to say what she was thinking, and a spill of hot anger tinged with betrayal seemed to fill him up all the way to his throat: Was this why they’d asked him to come? So they could recruit Hagrid to their campaign to make Harry do what they wanted? Harry opened his mouth, but as soon as he did, Hermione seemed to come to a decision and she said, very quickly but deliberately: “It’s because he won’t eat.” Hagrid’s cup stilled in his hands. There was a heavy silence for a second, in which Harry fixed Hermione with his fiercest glare. Her lip trembled slightly, but she crossed her arms and did not look away. Fang whined at Harry’s knee. “Whadda yeh mean he’s not eatin’?” Hagrid said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes at Ron and Hermione as though wondering if had understood correctly. But before either of them could answer, he rounded immediately on Harry, his expression ominous. “What do they mean yer not eatin’!” Fang scuttled off to hide under Hagrid’s bed, and Harry couldn’t help but wince under the force of Hagrid’s indignation. He sat there with the three of them watching him, feeling mutinous, and stared at a barrel of giant grubs in the corner, grinding his teeth together. He wrenched his jaw open and said shortly, “I eat.” Ron snorted forcefully. “Barely.” “I do – ” “You were. Well, sort of,” Hermione said, and though Harry was not looking at her, he could hear the threat of tears in her voice. “And I thought…but now it’s, it’s practically nothing, Harry – ” “I don’t want to talk about this,” Harry ground out, his temper rising, and he tightened his hands around his mug in an effort to contain himself. “Well, that’s too bad,” Hagrid growled. The cup in his hands groaned as he squeezed it, threatening to shatter, and he let go of it quickly. Hagrid sighed heavily, getting control of himself, and brushed one of his dustbin-lid-sized hands through his wild hair in agitation. “I know that yeh – yeh’ve had a hard time of it lately, but yeh can’t just - just give up, Harry…yeh gotta take care o’ yerself – ” Harry stared so hard at the barrel of grubs that everything began to blur together. He felt like screaming at them all, he could feel himself shaking with suppressed anger. They were not being fair, they didn’t get it. He wasn’t giving up. He was trying. He was trying so hard…they could not know, any of them, how much it was costing him to keep himself together…. “I’ve got to go meet Dumbledore,” Harry said, fighting to keep his voice even, and stood automatically, refusing to look at Hagrid’s face – he did not want to see the worry there, or acknowledge that the guilt of disappointing Hagrid might even be enough to make him stay. “That’s not for half an hour,” Ron insisted. “Mate, c’mon – ” Harry grabbed his cloak and threw it around his shoulders. “Gives you lot more time to talk about me then, doesn't it?” he snapped, though his voice caught on the last word, rather ruining the effect. He turned around and strode towards the door. “I'm tryin’ ter talk to yeh, if yeh’d just sit down fer a minute! Harry, come here – ” Hagrid called after him, his voice cutting off abruptly as Harry slammed the door behind him, breathing heavily. He took off towards the castle, shoving down a mixture of relief and hurt when Ron and Hermione did not follow him. Good, he thought viciously, stay there and fill him in, leave me alone….He could not believe the two of them, using Hagrid against him like that…and now Hagrid knew, and Harry had to avoid him, too, and he didn’t want to do that. Harry fumed all the way back to the castle and up to the seventh floor, coming to a halt in front of the gargoyle that stood sentry outside Dumbledore’s study. Ron had been right, of course; it was a while yet before he was supposed to present himself for his lesson, and he stood staring at the gargoyle, doing his best to master his temper and rubbing irritatedly at his wrists over his robes, trying not to scratch. After a few minutes, feeling jumpy and restless and desperately wanting something else to think about, Harry gave the gargoyle the password and stepped onto the spiral staircase that carried him up like an escalator to stand in front of the gleaming oak door of the headmaster’s office, hoping that Dumbledore would not object to him showing up a little early. Harry knocked a bit harder than he meant to, and he heard Dumbledore’s voice from within call “Enter.” Dumbledore was standing in front of one of his office’s many shelves, a very large book open in his hands, and he looked up, his silver eyebrows rising in faint surprise as Harry entered. “Harry! Gracious me, is it eight o’ clock already?” “Er – no, I’m sorry, sir, I know I’m early. I – I can come back….” said Harry, unsure, his hand still on the doorknob. “It is no matter, Harry, indeed a pleasant surprise, come in,” Dumbledore smiled kindly, and Harry stepped away from the door. As he moved further into the room, Dumbledore lowered his book, peering more closely at him. Harry supposed something of his anger and resentment must still be showing on his face, for a crease appeared between Dumbledore’s eyebrows, and he closed the book entirely and set it down on an empty corner of his desk. “What has happened to you?” “Nothing,” Harry said at once. His heart seemed to be beating somewhere in the region of his throat. He realised abruptly that he was trembling, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “What has upset you?” “I’m not upset.” “Harry….” Dumbledore chided gently, his expression stern. Harry shook his head, averting his gaze from the headmaster’s penetrating scrutiny. “It’s…I had a row with Ron and Hermione, it was nothing….” Dumbledore paused. Harry knew he was still watching him. “That is understandable,” he said softly. “I would imagine that their perception of things differs a great deal from yours, at the moment.” Harry frowned. He looked back to Dumbledore in confusion, but before Harry could ask what he had meant by this, a voice issued from one of the portraits above their heads. “I have just spoken with Lourdes,” said the painting of Sirius’s great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus, as he sidled back into his frame. “Hanson would like you to know that he’s available on the – ” “Yes, thank you, Phineas,” Dumbledore said repressively, cutting him off, and Phineas looked round in surprise. “Ah,” he said, spotting Harry. “Yes, of course. We shall discuss the matter later, Headmaster….” And he settled into his painted armchair without another word, staring down his nose at Harry with unusual interest as though he were examining a strange new specimen. Dumbledore circled his desk, sitting down, and gestured for Harry to do the same. “I am truly sorry to hear you have been arguing with your friends. It happens even in the closest of relationships, I’m afraid –  I find it usually works best, under such circumstances, to sincerely listen to each other’s concerns.” His chin lowered a fraction of an inch, and he studied Harry over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. “Have you been confiding in them?” Harry fidgeted in his seat. “Sir?” “You asked me, I believe, after our first lesson together if you would be allowed to tell Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger everything I had told you – have you discussed it with them?” “I….” Harry recalled, dimly, the conversation in which Ron and Hermione had interrogated him about his time spent in Dumbledore’s study, and how he had balked at the thought of discussing Merope and Tom Riddle and the circumstances surrounding their union and the subsequent birth of their child…. “Not really,” he said finally. The Pensieve sat on the desk between them, throwing little specks of silvery light onto the surrounding portraits and ceiling. Harry stared at it, wishing that the headmaster would just get down to business and start their lesson so he could focus on something besides the uncomfortable buzz pricking under his skin. Dumbledore lowered his head another inch, trying to catch Harry’s eye, and Harry unwillingly met his gaze. “As I said before, you need your friends, Harry. Keeping secrets from them will only make things more difficult for you, and for them,” said Dumbledore shrewdly, and Harry got the distinct impression that he was not only talking of passing on the matters of these lessons. He wondered, again, what Dumbledore had meant by Ron and Hermione’s perceptions differing from his own, but Dumbledore was already standing, indicating the Pensieve on the desk, and after a brief review of what they had covered previously and an introduction to where they were headed next, Harry was plunging face first into the cool surface of the contents of the Pensieve and falling down through darkness into Dumbledore’s memory of a boy Voldemort.     Quite a while later, after Harry and Dumbledore had emerged from their viewing of a shabby little London orphanage run by a Mrs. Cole and the calculating, disquieting version of a young Tom Riddle who had spent his childhood there tormenting the other children, they sat with the desk between them again and discussed the boy-Riddle’s tendency towards secrecy and domination, and his odd, magpie-like habit of trophy-collecting. The sky outside the window had now grown dark and starless, and Fawkes was dozing softly behind the door with his head under his wing. “And now, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “I think it is time for bed. But firstly, I would like to ask you something.” Harry, who had made to stand up, sank back into his chair and waited, apprehensive. Dumbledore considered him for a moment, and Harry rather thought that the usual twinkle in the piercing blue eyes looked just a bit dimmer. Dumbledore pressed the tips of his long fingers together. “I want to know,” he said gravely, “if there is anything you would like to tell me.” Harry remembered Dumbledore asking him much the same thing in second year, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, and people had been getting Petrified left, right, and centre, and Harry had been so worried that he might actually somehow be the heir of Slytherin.... Harry thought, now, about his growing dread about Malfoy and what he was doing following Hermione around. He thought about the broken skin on his wrists. About the empty ache in his belly, and the sleeping tablets in his bedside table. He thought about how he was just the tiniest bit nervous to leave Dumbledore’s office when they were done here, because last time there had been someone waiting for him…he thought about the extra layer of Mrs. Weasley’s jumpers he was wearing at that very moment, to protect himself from the cold, and from suspicion. He thought about how very, very tired he was. “No, sir,” Harry said in a flat voice, looking into Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes. “I can’t think of anything.” In the corner, Fawkes let out a low, soft, musical cry.

I lay on the lounger, letting the sound of the lapping waves flow over me. This weekend had been another level of exhibitionism for me. So many times, in so many 'innocent' circumstances, some gent had seen my breast or breasts, often enough that included at least a part of my areola or nipples. I can't recall the number of up skirt 'accidents' that have happened since we began our play in earnest, progressing over time to upskirts with tinier panties, and then none at all! I was overwhelmed, honestly, with the emotions I felt during the time I was trapped in the KDE hospitality convention cycle. Trapped might be too strong, but it wasn't voluntary, and my exposure always expected. Not my choice of when or where or how, or for whom. Granted, it was exciting, and I gained a new appreciation for the fact that men did find me sexy, lovely, or hot. But since then, as Tony and I had explored my exhibitionism on our terms, I'd gone from just dressing in a more revealing fashion -- away from home and work -- to where I was now. I can't say if anyone had ever taken a picture of me before yesterday and yet, ohmigod, this morning, I'd posed completely naked for a guy I knew was taking pictures and was sharing them! It excited me in a profound new way! Roberto, the pictures, his note. All of it crept into my mind as I tried to listen for the knots of people I'd seen coming up the beach. The first group was for sure four guys. The others, well.... The note, what had he said? Oh, I wanted to check my phone to read it again, how my "intimate area" was something he'd never actually seen before. Did he mean, could it be I was the first real, live woman whose pussy he'd seen? Or did he mean just in "such a state of...," how did he say that? Had he just never noticed with other women, certainly such a handsome young man couldn't still be a virgin? I'd stared wantonly, curious, at the bulge in his pants. That was new, mostly I just noticed that guys were getting hard, could see some tenting if it was a more than momentary exposure I gave them. And Thom, I'd seen the tenting, I'd reached over and place my hand on his erect cock! Yes, he had his shorts on, but that was new. Should I feel guilty? I didn't. All this running through my mind, my heart rate was elevated as I heard the voices come closer. "Phones," Thom whispered next to me. He might as well have handed me a personal massager. I inhaled deeply and arched my back, then settled back in the lounger, letting my left leg fall off the side. I could only imagine their view, I knew what I hoped it was. I hoped Thom, laying within arm's reach, was also seeing me. And Tony, wherever he was. Oh god, I wanted Tony here, sharing this madness with me! What felt like an hour passed before I heard Thom say, "Rita, looks like that's all the looky-loo's for now." Then he added quickly, as I reached for my hat. "No, please stay just as you are, I want to walk down to the water and back, to see what all these lucky devils have been seeing." My heart leapt into my throat! He wasn't anonymous, we'd talked and been in class together, he was a professional colleague. I was so turned on! I dropped my hand back to my side, enchanted that he wanted me in this way. He must have relished the view, as time seemed to drag on before I heard his voice again. In the interim, either by design or not, I certainly grew hotter, my breasts aching with amused gratification. "Hey, that kid's coming with your drink, you want to cover up?" Thom said from the foot of the lounger. I wondered how long he'd been there. I felt a warm pulse in my core, overjoyed that he'd been so close, looking. I wondered too how the material of this suit showed wetness. "He's over twenty-one, what do you think?" I replied from under my hat, a smile he couldn't see wide across my face. I heard Thom return to the lounge chair next to me. Thom told me later Bradley had approached from along the beach, my drink on a small tray covered with a napkin, and had stopped and made a questioning motion. Thom had nodded 'yes" and waved him to come on up with the drink. He said he was surprised Bradley hadn't stumbled, his eyes being on me and not where he was walking through the sand until he reached the end of our loungers. At that point Bradley uncovered the drink and offered the glass to Thom, but Thom realizing that my desire was to be seen by as many men as possible, shook his head and pointed at the little table. Bradley had then sidestepped between the chairs, his head down and apparently memorizing my chest and likely well noticing the pubic hair sprouting along the suit bottom, until he bumped the table with his leg. He let out a little "oops." "You trying to steal my drink, handsome?" I said as I reached my arm around the leg at my side essentially trapping the young man. "No, ma'am," Bradley practically squeaked. I pulled my hat off and acted surprised, but kept my arm around his tanned, well-muscled leg. "Oh, hi Bradley. I thought Thom was trying to get my drink again," making no attempt to cover myself with my hat. I turned my gaze to the tented shorts eighteen inches away and smiled, "Is that for me?" "Yes, ma'am," he replied, then taking his eyes off my chest to notice where I was looking, stammered, "Ah, no ma'am. The drink..., you ordered a..., he said you wanted me to bring... oh god," he was rattled. "Bradley," I said, looking up into his eyes and sliding my hand up to mid-thigh inside the leg of his shorts, "are you still calling me ma'am?" "Ah, sorry," and before I could react, he grabbed the glass off his tray and squatted to set it on the lounge-side table, trying to do something to change the situation. It changed; my hand went up his shorts leg where I discovered in that instant that he wasn't wearing any briefs. He froze, his eyes wide. To his credit, he didn't drop the tray on me or my drink. "That was my fault, Bradley, I'm sorry," I said, our eyes fixed on each other, the back of my hand inside his shorts and resting against a very rigid, warm phallus. His mouth opened but nothing came out. I withdrew my hand, dragging my fingers along the length of his thigh and smiled at him. "Your girlfriend is a very lucky young lady." He nearly sprang up and spun toward Thom. "I'm really sorry, sir. It's just that she, Rita, ah, your wife, is really fucking hot. I mean, ah, sexy, ah..." he blurted out. "I didn't mean stare, or...ah,..," he placed the tray over his midsection. "Bradley," I said trying with great difficulty to stifle my laugh seeing Thom's shocked expression. "That's not my husband. Thom's just a friend I met at the conference." Okay, friend was a stretch. "But I gotta agree with you, dude," Thom finally replied, "she is very sexy. I'm having a hard time not staring at her myself." Bradley looked at each of us a couple of times, thoroughly confused. Although, his eyes weren't focused on my face alone. He recovered himself and smiled, "Will there be anything else, Rita?" Oh, what the fuck. "What's your cell number?" He looked at me without comprehension. "Bradley," I said softly, "can I have your cell number, please?" He gave it to me. I messaged Tony. 'Please send this wonderful young man a photo of me for "inspiration!"' Bradley still looked confused, but asked again if there would be anything else. Our phones buzzed at the same time. Mine said 'done,' his with the picture took longer to process. "You'll probably want to answer that," I smiled at him. His eyes went wide. He glanced at me, then his phone, then back at me (I think comparing the breasts to the picture's), and again at the phone. "Jeezus," he said and sat down on Thom's lounge-chair. Thom began to get up and try to see the phone, but I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back, then rolled toward the two of them and moved my hand to cover the phone from Thom's view. "Uh-uh, that's a gift for Bradley, not you, Wisconsin." Thom pouted, "Yeah, well I'm the one paying for the drinks." "Patience and a good attitude," I winked at him as I came to a sitting position with my legs on either side of Bradley's. I was fairly certain that my already scrunched bikini bottom was revealing quite a bit of me, but didn't care. I looked at the phone that Bradley cradled protectively on his lap, and smiled with some self-satisfaction at the photo Tony had chosen to send to him. Mygod, was I really comfortable with being displayed like that? I mean, talk about full frontal! Hell, I was hot and proud of it! I tapped my knees against his, drawing him to look up. "Just one rule, okay? That never goes online and you never tell anyone my name." Bradley smiled, "Yes ma'am, that's a deal. Thank you, Rita." I kissed him on the cheek and nodded, "Get back to work." Bradley stood, his still hard manhood at the most distracting height just in front of me. I honestly considered planting a kiss on his shorts, but instead leaned back, pushing my chest out and opening my legs wide to reveal my barely covered bottom. His eyes touched every part of me wantonly, with unadulterated desire. His smile was soft, his eyes between pleading and crying. He looked at the picture on his phone, stroked me again with his eyes and sighed. "I'll know at least that you weren't a dream," he said raising the phone. "Have a safe trip home, ma'am?" "Thank you, Bradley," I said, moving my leg so he could step past. I watched him walk down the shoreline, swinging the tray in one hand and the phone in the other. "He'll be hard for a week," Thom said. "And you?" I nodded at his tented shorts as I closed my knees and brought my legs back on the lounger, sitting. My last move, for Bradley, had caused the bottom to roll between my labia majora and bury the tiny strip of fabric just hiding my wet angel wings, but providing a provocative invitation for Thom's eyes. Thom laughed, "I'm not as young as he is. I don't think I could stay hard that long." With a devious grin I answered, "Maybe you just need motivation?" I reached back and grabbed the glass, taking a long, sensuous draw on the fresh glass of superb Irish whiskey, my upper body turned to Thom. I could feel his eyes squeezing my taut nipples, hardly as innocent and guileless as Bradley's had. I set the glass down, reached under my chair and pulled out my sunscreen from my bag. "Would you mind?" I asked, extending the tube to him. He sat up quickly, taking the tube, then chuckled as I turned and lay on my stomach. "You're a real..." he began "Choose your next words carefully," I warned as I stretched out. "Honest," he said, "I was going to say 'motivator', you're a real motivator. A sexy, gorgeous motivator." "Mmm,," I said, turning my head and tossing my hair to one side as I relaxed into the now flat lounger. "please be very thorough, I don't want to get burned... anywhere. And tell me about the folks who passed by earlier..." I shuddered and closed my eyes. This was new ground; Tony is the only man who has ever lotioned my body. A little voice asked me how I meant that....... Thom started, perhaps still tenuous as to where this was heading, with my neck and shoulders as he narrated what had transpired as I lay topless for the roving beach pedestrians. There were pictures from all of the first group and I found that I was thrilled with the idea, with one of the men taking a few steps across the sand toward me to get what Thom described as a close-up of "where my legs met." The alcohol and the lapping of the waves, along with the fine doctor's soothing, expert touch relaxed me as I "saw" everything he described. The guy who had stopped and simply stood for several minutes, the wife with the look of having swallowed a whole lemon, dragging her grinning, rubber-necking husband past this row of hussies displaying ourselves like this. The two men in business suits, pants rolled up and carrying expensive dress shoes, socks tucked inside, as they appeared to rate each of us who were topless, trading comments, pointing, nodding or shaking their heads. I wondered where I fell on their scale? All the while, he spread the sunscreen thoroughly, having completed my back to the line demarcated by the side ties of my bikini bottom. I felt him rest his hands as if trying to decide how to proceed, or just enjoying the touch on the small of my back. My heart was not resting, though this was quite relaxing. He had lingered and slid his hands as he got to my side-boobs. I'm small, and know there is not much there when I lie down, but he'd taken his time and moved his hands as much as he dared along each side, nudging his finger-tips between the towel and the flesh of my breasts. I'd tried to remain neutral, neither encouraging or rejecting, still toying with how much I was going to allow, - how much I wanted. My ears pricked up when Thom said, "And the last guy, in the black Speedo, really thought you were hot as hell." His hands came off of me just then, but in a few seconds I felt the sunscreen drizzle across my glutes and Thom began to work it in. His circular motion, I recognized, was meant to lull me as he spread my cheeks, - I did not tense. The last guy had walked past, then come back and stood, moving this way and that a few feet to truly study me. Thom said it was obvious that he had a hard-on, one the suit could hardly contain. Thom put a dollop of lotion on my right calf and I realized he'd moved himself down to the end of my lounger, apparently kneeling between my legs. I almost laughed at myself for not realizing that I'd opened my legs, my feet on each side of the lounger giving Thom a place to rest himself. His motion was nearly massage-like as he worked the protective layer into my skin. He said he'd lost sight of the guy for a moment and had just about decided to sit up when he saw the man approach the side of my lounger, no more than two feet away. He had squatted and taken a shot "of the most nubile breasts" on the beach, catching a magnificent profile of my nipples "erect and proud, looking so wonderfully suckable." Thom was working on my left calf now as he stated, "from the way he looked to be framing the shot, it's probably just your gorgeous breasts, with those amazing, perfect nipples of yours saluting the heavens, and the ocean in the background." The lotion dribbled all the way up the back of my leg from knee to my bum, Thom adding "I'd pay a tidy sum to have that photograph hanging on the wall of my bedroom, but would probably have it right out front in the living room for everyone to see." I thought I'd scream when another drizzle went up the back of my other leg. Then Thom crawled up a bit, his knees touching mine and urging them apart as a hand touched each leg at my knees and started to work upward in dizzying unison. My phone vibrated in the sand beneath the lounger. Tony. I had to concentrate to pick it up and read the message as Thom's hands worked on both my legs, running the length up the inside of each leg to just a shade, -oh so achingly close-, to my feminine folds and then upward and out, spreading me, and then back to my knees. I peered between the vinyl slats of the lounger. "u ok" "yes" I thumb typed one handed. "can u see" "YES!!!!!" "u ok" "u r so HOT!!! Yes! I luv u!" "lub u" I managed before dropping the phone back to the sand. I brought my hand out and reached back, finding Thom's crotch. I cupped his scrotum and then gripped his erect shaft through the shorts. "Make sure you don't miss anything, alright? I don't want anything sunburned." I gave him a little squeeze and removed my hand, dropping it over the side of the chair. His hands started back up the inside of my thighs. He didn't miss anything. "I'm pretty sure you've got the sunscreen well worked in, don't you think?" I said with a pleased smile, turning as much as I could to Thom. I could just get my elbows under me and my head turned to the side as he was fairly well kneeling over me with his knees at my mid-thighs. "Just trying to be thorough," he smirked with a sheepish grin. "Mmm, you were, thanks." I nodded at him and then at his chair. "Oh," he said. He scooted down a bit and then climbed from between my legs, standing and stretching. "I guess I am a pretty good motivator," I said, running my hand over the front of his shorts as I sat up. He jumped, and I laughed. "I just, ah..." "No problem," I smiled demurely and lowered my eyes. Peeking up at him, and pouting just a bit, I said, "I was hoping to get lotion over the rest of me too," holding the sunscreen out to him. Thom glanced around. "Here?" "Well, why not? I could just take this off..." I reached for the side ties on my bikini bottom. "No!" he said louder than he meant to. "No," he said less panicked. "It's just, well, everyone could see what we were doing... I mean..., if you were..., if I was doing the front of you." "Okay," I said, squirting a glob of sunscreen into my hand and beginning to do my arms. "But if you think no one knew what you were doing, what you were touching on me...., why do you think the couple next to us walked off like they did?" He had a deer-in-the-headlights look as he whipped his head around to see the lounge chairs nearest us now empty. "I...uh..." I giggled, "There's putting on sunscreen for a woman, and there's spending ten minutes running your hands over her pussy lips. I could spend the next week out here naked with that much sunscreen," I said shaking my head. I plopped another daub of lotion into my hand, rubbed some onto my other hand, and began to do my collars and breasts nonchalantly. The tease was terrible, but I was also trying to lower my own arousal level. Thom knew how to touch a woman. "Have you..., do you put sunscreen on that girl you're dating the way you just did me?" I asked batting my eyes trying to be coquettish. "She'd be crazy not to marry you," I said honestly. Thom blushed. "I read a lot, watch videos. Tracey, that's her name, doesn't..., she's pretty conservative." "And you?" "Well, I didn't freak out when you said you liked to be naked in public, did I?" "Grab your towel, Wisconsin, and we'll head down the beach a bit, strip naked and sunscreen each other, then lay out and let people see our privates. You game?" He had a grin on his face, but worry in his eyes. He sighed, "I really, really want to see all of you, Rita. To touch you...., but..." he shrugged. "Hey, if no one's told you, you're in love with that girl," I smiled, standing and wrapping my arms around him. "Get yourself back home and propose to her," I said looking into his eyes, "Then show her all you learned from those videos and books," I winked. "And one practical sunscreening application?" I hugged Thom again. "Yeah, but take it slow, and remember that it's all about loving and caring. The sex will take care of itself if the love is there." He nodded and picked up his shirt. "Safe trip home," he said, taking my hand and giving me a little squeeze. "You too, Thom," I smiled. He began to turn and I called, "Thom." As he looked back, I brought the hand I still held to my breast. "Freebie," I laughed. He dropped the shirt and brought his other hand up and took my uncovered breast in it, caressing them both for a long moment, kneading them gently and catching my nipples between his fingers as he stared into my eyes. I shuddered, "Damn, what videos were those?" He laughed with joy, turned, picked up his shirt, and walk back toward the hotel. My phone was vibrating again as I slumped into the seat. "u heading back now?" Tony asked. "nope, I'm gonna do this" I typed and added a shocked emoji. I got back the goggley-eyed, tongue-hanging-out one from Tony. It took me a couple minutes to apply sunscreen to my tummy and legs. I figured I'd just have to take the tube with me to finish the one area still unprotected. I tossed back the rest of my whiskey, grabbed my bag with the clean towel, stuffed my top into it and headed down the beach away from the hotel, - heart skipping. A couple times I'd walked topless along beaches where that was an accepted practice when Tony and I had taken vacations. Alabama law states that you can't take you suit top off if you have the intent of arousing another person who isn't your spouse. My intent was certainly to arouse Tony -- and as many other men as I could! Hell, women too, if they were interested. And it was not going to be just my top. After maybe a quarter mile, I found a lovely area of smooth beach -- and about eight or ten guys already sunbathing nude, along with two couples, also nude. Nobody was too obviously creepy, but I also wasn't worried. I wanted to be seen and desired. Right by the highwater mark, so everyone walking the beach had an opportunity to walk very near me, I stopped and dropped my bag. Taking a breath -- was it all adrenaline and anticipation? -- I undid the ties on my bottom and stuck it in the bag as well. I stretched a little, then pulled the large beach towel out of the bag and flipped it out, perpendicular to the shoreline. I could feel the tautness of my nipples, a sign of the excitement of this adventure, already shooting through me. Movement to my right caught my attention as I was trying to decide if I should put on my sunscreen standing up to draw more eyes, or after I sat down to ensure I did a more thorough job? Eyes were evidently not going to be the problem as the movement that had distracted me was an evenly tanned man of about forty-five, his pubic area completely shaved clean and his cock about half hard, stretching out a towel maybe fifteen feet from me. I could swear I'd seen him when I arrived, about fifteen away. As I turned to retrieve my tube of sunscreen, I noted another guy with his towel ambling in my direction. Now, maybe, it was a little creepy. "Well, one or two would be nice," I said out-loud to myself, making my new neighbor look up at me, interest in his look. Oh! -- I had a sneaking suspicion what he thought or hoped I meant. I should have considered some sort of adult resort, one with thirty and forty somethings; maybe the guys would look better? I knelt on my towel and leaned to grab the sunscreen still unsure how I was going to proceed. The end of the towel behind me, nearer the water, blew up just then. Flustered, I reached into my bag, grabbed my sandals and swung around to weigh down the corners of my towel with them. I realized a second too late what this move did, and the view I was presenting to all the people sunbathing nude behind me. he voice in my head snickered. If you're going to jump into a cold pool, you just do it, and so I stretched out, my bottom in the air, and smoothed my towel back in place. Feeling the midafternoon sun on my most intimate part was exhilarating. I almost giggled. Sitting back on my haunches, I squirted a glob of lotion into my hand, rolled off my lower legs to sit on the towel and, completely ignoring the older guy fifteen feet away, I took my time to cover the delicate skin and every fold of my pussy with sunscreen as I sat splay-legged with my knees bent. In for a penny, in for a pound. Peeking, but showing no reaction, I saw that he was on his side facing toward me and touching himself. I had hoped I'd feel more; perhaps I just didn't find him attractive? Glancing up and down the beach, I could see walkers coming from both directions. Heart thumping loudly, or so it seemed, I rolled up my bag into a sort of pillow, lay back, and moved my hat over my face. I could make out the edge of the water as I looked down my naked body, which was good as I had no one with me to tell me if anyone stopped to look. Ohmigod, I wanted to do this! I cannot describe the euphoria I felt being completely nude on a public beach for the first time. As I concentrated on my breathing to calm myself, the sea breeze tantalized my skin bringing every cell alive and focused. Every gust, every grain of sand blown on or over me, was savored for the sparks ignited, tingling my senses and concentrated in my core. I'd been out without panties any number of times, but not like this. It was dizzying, making me light-headed and giddy as the warmth of the sun and the breeze combined to set alight an inferno undulating in, over, and throughout my core. I could feel the blood flow swelling me, and knew my nipples stood our straight like flags whipped by a gale force wind. I trembled with eagerness, I wanted to be seen, to show anyone and everyone. I smiled under my hat imagining a large, flashing, neon arrow pointing to me -- I wanted scream "Look!" I heard the whisper, my senses all turned past 'maximum' on their sensitivity dials, saw the feet on the beach. "Fuck, I wish her legs were open..." "I know, man, but she's gorgeous," and then the feet moved on. Shocked, I think I held my breath as I watched the feet go out of my visual range. I glanced down my body to see, beyond the patch of black hair drenched in full sun, that my toes were touching. My entire leg was clamped tight to its neighbor. Reaching out with my senses, I realized I was stiff, not relaxed at all, a pretty, plastic mannequin on a towel. I inhaled forever, and then let out just as long a breath sending my thoughts from my belly outward as I did in meditation, relaxing each part of me as the thought wave flowed out. That felt so much better, I'd even had my butt clenched! Several more breaths, calming and cleansing, brought more relief. It was nerves, excitement, anticipation. I stretched, then moved my legs apart, bending my left knee up and out, opening myself more. My arms moved themselves and I appeared asleep. The breeze licked me; would my voyeurs know that was my own dew or think it sweat? I didn't care, but I cared so much! I craved the exhilaration, the wickedness, the abandonment of expectations. Should I 'scratch' some imaginary itch and pull my angels wings open a bit? Later, I thought, let them see you like this for now. The smile under my hat was one of delight and satisfaction. Another set of feet. They stopped. A sigh and they moved on. Thank you, I thought. I can't wait to share this with Tony! Tony! Was he still around? He knew I wanted to try this, we'd talked about it a few times -- and again on the phone last night. He'd been able to see Thom and me, so he had to have seen me head down the beach. Suddenly I craved his presence, to see me here, in public, completely nude, mischievous in a way that thrilled us both.. And not just nude, but I had my legs open, not obscenely, but enough that I was certain my labia could easily be seen. I wanted him to see me doing this, enjoying myself, to rise with pride -I still had the effect on him, thank god -- as others looked at me. We did this for each other, it excited and fulfilled us in some inexplicable way. "Oh my god, did you see that woman?" Two more sets of feet. If he didn't, my dear, thank you for pointing me out because he was certainly looking now. One set stopped. "George!" came the perturbed whisper and the second set of feet fumbled moving away, being dragged. I had to stifle a laugh. Another set stopped in front of me a few minutes later, coming from my left. They stopped right in front of me, and I saw him squat no more than inches beyond my right foot, knees open, and his cock and balls dangling before me. After thirty seconds -- did I hold my breath?- his cock was no longer flaccid. 'That's brazen,' was my first thought while simultaneously happy for his complimentary sign. I fought to keep my breath even. He set down a bag next to him, then dug out a phone, and extended his arm to get an even more intimate view of my treasure, snapping several shots one-handed. I was definitely getting wetter; in my hyper-attuned state I felt a droplet run down my perineum. "Stunning," he breathed, slipped the phone back in his pack and rose. I could imagine his cock preceding him, swinging to and fro, as he walked off. Did he know, or had he simply guessed that I was awake? Over the next fifteen minutes, I watched several more sets of feet pass by. None stopped, but by the pace I guessed each was at least glancing at the sand area, covered here and there with nude bodies. The two couples I had seen on arrival were young, both members of each good-looking. Of the single guys who were there, most I would guess to be in their forties and fifties, and by their tans, long time naturists. Average guys, mostly, though two were rather overweight. I decided I should probably turn over, as well as reapply my sunscreen. To my surprise, there were three guys all within about ten feet of me in the sand further up the beach. My heart leapt seeing Tony to the right, a sparkle in my eye noting he was nude and quite erect, as were his two beach-mates. I didn't care about them, but I was going to scold him later if he'd forgotten his sunscreen- after we made love! I nodded and smiled politely to the three guys as I sat facing them cross-legged and dug into my bag for the cream. I also needed a long drink of water, which tasted great even though it was quite warm, making a point to lean back tilting the bottle up and pushed my chest out toward my admirers. Capping the bottle and laying it down, I grabbed the tube and shook it, while casually looking around. A bit further back, one couple had a few guys around them. He appeared to be asleep, though I'm sure he wasn't, and she had her head lying on his chest, her body perpendicular to his, and had an arm over her shoulder fondling his semi-rigid cock. She was watching her admirers as she lazily opened and closed her folded legs, her shaved pussy glistening in the sun. "Need any help with that?" I heard, distracted from my realization that I wasn't in the least disturbed by her display, or the two guys quite plainly stroking their cocks in response. I blinked. "Just guessing you were going to flip over, I know the back's hard to reach," a sandy-haired guy, I guessed to be around fifty, with fabulous green eyes sitting to my left smiled. I looked at the tube, then back at him. I let my eyes, I hoped hidden by my sunglasses, jump to Tony. He had a very tiny grin, and made the slightest nod. I swear his cock jumped at the same instant. I'm sure I kegeled. "If it's no trouble," I smiled. He stood to walk over, his cock swaying. He touched my hand as he took the tube and said, "Just relax." I stretched out on my belly, folding my arms so I could keep my face up to see Tony's face. I was quivering and hoped it didn't show. He knelt at my waist, on my left. I heard the spurt of lotion from the tube and felt the warm glop on my back. I know my eyes went wide, Tony smiled, his own cock telling me what he too was thinking. Could my lotion helper see the look between us? I relaxed into the hands rubbing the lotion into my shoulders and back. It felt so sensual, he wasn't rushing but soon was at my lower back. It was a symphony of emotions, what I was feeling, what I saw in Tony's eyes, the notes being played on my body. And somewhere deep, a fear, a teasing that we were on a fine line and could tip over into an abyss. Another splash of sunscreen, right at the top of my derriere. He moved, tapping the inside of my leg, and I felt a knee move between my legs. His hands were on my buttocks, and he nudged my leg with his. Tony still looked accepting, his cock bouncing, so I opened my legs. Then my tawny haired acquaintance's other knee came down and he was kneeling between my spread legs, urging me wider, my knees against his. His hands slipped to the splash of lotion and began slow circular movements at the small of my back. I fought to relax, overwhelmed with his touch and Tony's obvious -- very obvious -- pleasure. I wasn't scared in the least, Tony was near, but the electric shocks dancing over my body and the near euphoric psychedelic flashes in my brain were almost too much. His hands slid up my body, curved outward, and came down along my sides lingering ever so slightly at the swell of my breasts. Three more times he repeated this motion, his fingers curving under at my sides each time, lingering, searching. On the fourth sweep, his hands came all the way down to grip my hips, his thumbs at the small of my back. He circled there a few times with just his thumbs. Another splash of sunscreen, I dropped my head, my sunglasses tumbling into the sand. I brought my unfocused eyes up seeking Tony's. He cleared, and I saw him as near the edge as I was, our eyes penetrating each other, his hand slowly stroking his swollen, leaking phallus. The man behind me brought his hands together on my back, swirled them in the lotion, and slid them out and under me, moving upward. Only fingertips ran across my crazed nipples as I raised myself to give him room, but he did not linger and moved then up and out, around to my shoulders. He stretched, and I felt the fullness of his manhood press on my buttocks, not seeking entrance but simply, deliciously, the magic touch of warmth on warmth. Incredulous, though not breaking the hold Tony and my souls had on each other, I bit my lip. My mouth opened in a silent, rambunctious scream of ecstasy as I erupted in an unbridled orgasm and watched Tony peak as well, his seed splattering in the sand between us. The world began to rotate again some time later, breath returned to my lungs, sound to my ears. I lay tummy-down on the beach, nude, my legs still spread wide to the ocean and anyone who cared to look, my post orgasmic state brilliantly clear to any who might. My amazing, supportive husband, his cock still full but no longer erect, now just two feet further up the beach from me, a long, sticky drip falling from him. We still gazed at each other, the two of us abandoned by our recent audience, my helper vanished. "I love you so, so much, Rita," Tony said softly. I smiled, "I love you, Tony. You are my life!"

March 17th Maggie doesn’t realize how dependent she’s become on Alex bringing her breakfast – and lunch most days now – until Alex is suddenly gone. Maggie hasn’t seen her all week. She hasn’t seen Lucy either, for that matter. Or Kara. She has no idea what happened. At first, she starts to think that maybe Alex is sick and staying home. But after four days of complete absence, Maggie doubts that’s it. She knows Alex would get word to her somehow if that were the case. So then, she starts worrying that she did something to make Alex upset. They had hung out again with Kara and Lucy on Saturday, no one really mentioning what had happened the night before at the diner other than the two of them asking if Maggie felt better that day. But even though Alex was trying to act normal, she still seemed off somehow to Maggie, like she had a lot on her mind. And now she’s wondering if it was because of her. But Alex hadn’t said anything and she had seemed fine the last time Maggie saw her, on Monday when she had brought Maggie breakfast like normal before she left for school. But then she hadn’t shown up the next morning. Or the next. So Maggie doesn’t know. And she tries not to think about it too hard because if she does, the loneliness starts creeping back in. Even though she’s been on her own for weeks now, it hasn’t really felt that way, not when she’s had a combination of Alex and Lucy and Kara to break up the dull moments. And that makes her kick herself mentally, because she had promised herself after Eliza that she wasn’t going to get too attached to anyone ever again, but here she is, almost completely dependent on people she met practically the second after getting here. But she knows it’s too late now. But there’s a more pressing problem than even the possibility of suddenly losing her only friends, and it’s one that’s a lot simpler. She’s absolutely starving. Like it or not, Alex is her consistent source of food, and without her, Maggie flounders. She had a little bit of money left over from the last time Alex gave her some, but she had stupidly spent it all to buy dinner Monday night, before she realized that something was wrong. And so when she did realize and needed to come up with a game plan, she had absolutely nothing to work with. Not even some leftovers. Not exactly a great start. So she figures she really didn’t have much of a choice. She starts going through the garbage cans on the boardwalk late at night. But when she realizes that the payoff for that is too low and the risk of being caught too high, she switches to dumpster-diving in the back alleys downtown. After the first couple times, she doesn’t really feel shame in it anymore, not like her first week on the streets. Most of her attempts end with some half-eaten pizza slices or cups of half-finished fries, but she realizes that right after the restaurants close and the workers have dumped the trash for the night that she never knows exactly what she might find. Sometimes she’s able to piece together a full meal. Her companions most trips are usually the rats and stray cats, but twice she runs into a couple of homeless people doing the same thing she is. The first time, it’s a woman missing most of her teeth who just grunts when she sees Maggie and hands her a fully wrapped, intact burger that’s still kind of warm. The second time, though, it’s a guy covered from head to toe in filth, and he immediately starts screaming about Maggie trying to steal ‘his dumpster.’ Maggie’s quick to book it as soon as that happens, and she’s really glad she did after she sees two police cars prowling around the area. She makes a mental note to avoid that place, but after that, she’s too afraid to try again, and she goes a full day with nothing but water, her stomach achingly empty. She prays each night that she’ll wake to a brown bag with Alex’s familiar writing or see her out on the water. Twice, she considers ringing the doorbell on Alex’s front door and asking to see her. But she’s still scared of Alex’s mom discovering her, and the lingering fear that Alex is purposely ignoring keeps her from doing so. And although she’s learned a lot about the layout of Midvale since she arrived, she still isn’t quite sure where Lucy lives. So she’s stuck until she sees one of them again. She studies herself in the bathroom mirror Thursday morning. She hasn’t really looked at herself too hard since she got there, her new haircut and the bruises on her skin making her avoid her reflection, the reminder of what happened too painful. But the bruises are gone now, and Maggie’s captivated with the fact that she no longer resembles the picture she has of herself in her head. Her skin is darker now, a product of spending so much time outdoors, and she definitely looks skinnier than before she had left Blue Springs. She finds she doesn’t really mind her shorter hair anymore, although the ends are kind of choppy and a little uneven, but altogether it doesn’t look too bad. She’d eventually like to grow it out again, maybe not as long as she used to have it, but close to the length of Alex’s, coming in just below her shoulders. And there she goes again, thinking about Alex. She doesn’t really know why, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to stop thinking about Alex. By Saturday, she can’t take it anymore. She wakes hours before dawn because of the ache in her stomach. Unable to fall back asleep, she spends the time until the sun rises watching the ocean, desperately hoping more with every passing moment that Alex will show up that morning. But when the sun’s fully in the sky and there’s still no sign of Alex coming, Maggie lets her hopes die. She stands and makes her way to the boardwalk to start the day, her body achy and stiff. She starts walking downtown, past all the shops opening up for the day. She thinks about maybe trying to swipe some food from the farmer’s market she knows takes place every Saturday morning near the other end of the boardwalk. The fruit stands there are making her mouth water just thinking about them. But she doesn’t really trust her thieving skills, and the last time she had been there, she had seen at least two police units patrolling the large crowd the event always gathered. Plus there’s the whole stealing-is-wrong thing, Maggie thinks. Her dad had drilled that into her for as long as she can remember. But she’s past the point of really caring about that if she’s being honest. She’s so deep in the argument with herself that she almost misses it, and nearly trips herself up as her brain registers what she’s just seen a second after her eyes do. The grin that breaks out on her face as she looks at the item on the ground is the first genuine smile she’s made in days. A quarter, face up and shiny in the morning sun, just lying there in the middle of the sidewalk. Calling to her. Maggie scrambles to pick it up, feeling like she just won the lottery. Because maybe it wouldn’t seem like much to most people, but Maggie knows exactly what it will get her. Breakfast. Or, more specifically, one of those oversized muffins from the best local bakery in town. Maggie heads there with a spring in her step, knowing it’s still early enough that the pastry selection will be largely untouched. Her hunch is proved correct when she gets to the bakery and the woman behind the counter happily informs her that she’s the first customer of the day. Maggie waits and watches as she finishes setting up a large display of cinnamon rolls before setting it on top of the counter. Maggie orders a chocolate chip muffin, practically drooling as she takes in all the delicious pastries in front of her. She desperately wants to gobble up half the bakery, particularly the cinnamon buns sitting right in front of her, almost mocking. But she knows she’s lucky to at least be getting something to eat. She hands her quarter over and the woman bags her muffin just as a timer goes off in the back room. “Here you go, dear. Have a nice day,” the woman says, handing the bag over to Maggie before going through the back doors. The timer shuts off a few seconds later. And Maggie can’t help herself. There’s no one else in the store, so she seizes her chance. She swipes two of the cinnamon rolls from the front of the circular display, knowing they’re the least likely to be missed, and stuffs them in the bag with her muffin before quickly moving out the door.    Something in her brain tells her she should feel bad for stealing from such a nice shop owner, but it’s quickly squashed by the growling in her stomach. That is, until Maggie realizes that someone’s seen her. There’s a dog grooming place across from the bakery, one Maggie’s never really paid much attention to before. But now, she can’t help but notice it. Or rather, the eyes she feels on her. There’s a woman standing on the inside of the glass doors, holding a rag in her hand and a spray bottle in the other. She’s staring directly at Maggie, and even from across the street, Maggie feels the penetrating stare, and somehow, she just knows the woman saw everything. Maggie clenches the bag hard in her first, but the woman makes no move to confront her. Instead, she simply flips over the open sign on the door and goes back to cleaning the window, with one last look at Maggie. There’s something about the look that makes Maggie think the woman’s seen into her soul. Shame floods her, but she takes off before the woman decides to change her mind. She would like to say that she doesn’t enjoy the cinnamon rolls after that, but they still taste like heaven, and Maggie scarfs down every last crumb. … She’s walking on the boardwalk sometime later when someone barrels into her from out of nowhere, tackling her into a hug. “Maggie! Oh my God, I’m so glad I found you!” Maggie pulls back with some difficulty to see Lucy with a frantic look in her eyes. She seems reluctant to let go as she starts rambling rapid-fire. “I didn’t know that Alex was bringing you food every day! But she literally just got back phone privileges this morning and she called me worried sick about you, so I went to look for you at the beach earlier, but you weren’t there and then I got worried, because if I had known, I would have been bringing you food all week but I–” “Whoa, Lucy, hang on, slow down,” Maggie interjects, her head spinning with trying to keep up. “What happened to Alex? Is she okay?” Lucy takes a deep breath, giving Maggie one more tight squeeze before taking a step back. “Right, sorry. You don’t know. Alex got into a fight at school on Monday. She got a week’s worth of in-school suspension, and her mom grounded her. She has to take the bus to school and wasn’t allowed to use the phone or anything.” Maggie’s heart skips a beat at the news and now she feels like the frantic one. “She got into a fight? With who? Did she get hurt?” Lucy grimaces. “It– it was Logan. They have gym class together. From what I’ve heard, he started it, but the gym teacher had to pull Alex off of him, so she got in the most trouble. I heard she got a black eye, but I haven’t seen her. Logan’s nose is broken. He’s been a baby about it the entire week. He only got written up.” Maggie’s eyes widen in shock, but she can’t think of anything to say beyond, “Oh geez.” “Yeah.” Lucy kicks at the wood with her flip flop, blowing out a frustrated breath. “I should have known he wasn’t going to leave her alone after Friday.” Lucy’s face is hidden by her hair, but Maggie can hear the guilt in her voice. “Hey, it’s not your fault. I don’t want to like, insult your ex or anything, but he seems like a total douchebag.” That makes Lucy laugh a little. “He totally is, isn’t he? God.” She’s quiet for a beat, but then claps her hands suddenly, startling a seagull that had landed nearby. “Anyway, that’s only one of many reasons I wanted to find you. Wanna get food? ‘Cause I’m buying.” Maggie’s stomach growls just at the mention of food. She wraps an arm around her abdomen like that’s going to keep it quiet and smiles sheepishly at Lucy. “Please?” Lucy grabs her arm, pulling her in the direction of the nearest pizza shop. “C’mon. I’ll show you the other things I got for you after we eat.” … Lucy orders a whole pizza and a basket of fries, and then proceeds to eat only a slice and a handful, leaving the rest for Maggie. And Maggie wants to say that she doesn’t wolf the entire meal in less than ten minutes, but then she’d be lying. She doesn’t even wait for the pizza to cool, just lets the roof of her mouth burn as she inhales slice after slice. Then she attacks the fries, and they’re greasy and salty and utterly delicious, and one of the best things Maggie’s ever tasted, although that just may be the hunger talking. When she’s done, Maggie feels full for the first time in days and she smiles contently at Lucy. “That was so much better than garbage pizza.” Seeing Lucy’s look of confusion, she adds, “You really don’t want to know.” Lucy’s face scrunches in disgust. “Noted. But wait ‘til you see what else I brought you,” she says, pulling at her surprisingly stuffed backpack. She digs out some clothes and drops them in Maggie’s lap before zipping the backpack shut again, not letting Maggie see what else is in there. Maggie holds up the pair of jeans, gauging them to be about her size. The t-shirt is a dark gray with ARMY scrawled across the chest. “Figured if Alex gets to give you one of her shirts; I get to give you one of mine. But I’m still gonna call you Sunshine no matter what you’re wearing.” Maggie laughs. She gets a little fluttery feeling in her chest whenever Lucy uses the nickname for her. “Well thank you.” Lucy shakes her head, getting off the stool by the counter they’re sitting at and holding out a hand for Maggie. “Wait until you see the big surprise. This was just the beginning.” Lucy leads her back to the cave, where she crawls inside, telling Maggie to wait on the beach. But Maggie can’t help but start to panic when Lucy pulls her sleeping bag and all her stuff outside. “Wait, Lucy, what are you– ” “It’s okay. Just give me a few minutes; I promise I’m not going to mess anything up. Don’t look or you’ll ruin the surprise.” Maggie reluctantly turns around and watches the waves crashing on the shore, still feeling nervous. She knows it’s ridiculous, but she’s gotten attached to her little make-shift home and the collection of barebone items she’s obtained and the thought of anyone messing with them makes her want to cry, even if she trusts Lucy. There’s a lot of scrambling and what sounds to be Lucy struggling with something and muttering to herself for the following ten minutes, telling Maggie not to look every time she asks if she needs help. Eventually, Lucy comes back out and plops onto her back next to Maggie, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Okay, I’ll let you set your stuff up how you like, but it’s all ready for you now.” “What is?” Lucy nudges her with an elbow. “Go look.” Maggie looks doubtful, but she does as Lucy says and goes into her cave. But instead of the normal space she’s used to seeing, she’s met with tan fabric, a zipper running down the middle. “What the–” Lucy pushes past her, impatient, and pulls the zipper the down, and then Maggie’s looking at the inside of a one-person tent, with her sleeping bag and a new little camping pillow set up inside. “Ta-da,” Lucy says, sounding proud. Maggie goes inside, looking at it in awe. “Lucy… This is… How did you…?” Lucy follows her in, still grinning, but her voice soft in the way she has when she’s trying to reassure Maggie. “It’s one of my dad’s old tents. He’s got like five and he doesn’t use any of them. He’ll never notice one’s gone. And I just checked; you can’t see it from outside.” Maggie feels like she could cry, and she hugs Lucy tightly. “Thank you. This is like the best thing ever. You’re like the best thing ever.” And maybe she’s getting emotional, but she swears she sees Lucy’s ears turn red in the same way Alex’s do sometimes, but Lucy untucks her hair from behind them before she can get a good look. “It’s nothing,” Lucy says. “Seriously. Sorry I didn’t think about it sooner. And if it kind of stinks. It tried to pick the best-smelling one.” Maggie inhales deeply, getting a hint of must. “Nah, it’s perfect. Smells like perfection.” That makes Lucy laugh, and she leans back on her hands. “Well, I don’t know when Alex will be ungrounded, but we could meet up again tomorrow to get food. And I could bring you some stuff before school this week if Alex can’t. Or even if she can, I’ll bring extra.” “That would be great. I’m just glad to know what happened. I was a little afraid she was avoiding me or something.” Lucy’s head tilts. “Why?” Maggie shrugs. “She was kind of quiet last Saturday. And then, you know, I didn’t see her all week, and I started thinking maybe she was mad at me.” “That definitely wasn’t it. You didn’t do anything,” Lucy says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to speak for her, but I know she’s not mad at you, Maggie.” Maggie’s glad to hear that. She feels a little weight lifting off her shoulders, now that she knows the truth. Lucy hugs her again. “So, I need to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunshine.” Yep, the fluttery feeling is back. “See you then.” … March 18th It’s the cats that get Maggie’s attention. She’s making her way back to the beach around dusk when she sees them, five or six street cats all running down the same alley. This isn’t the first time Maggie’s seen strays hanging around, but she’s never seen that many around each other without there being a fight, so she follows, curious. There’s even more when she gets behind the building. Maggie counts at least twenty, but it’s hard to be sure when they’re all moving around. But it seems they’re moving with a purpose, as they all gather in front of a specific door. They start meowing all at once, and some of the closest ones start clawing at the metal. Maggie’s so engrossed in watching them and wondering what they’re doing that she almost misses the door swing open from the inside. She barely has time to duck behind the nearby dumpster. She really doesn’t want to have to explain to somebody what she’s doing back there. “Okay, okay, I’m here, settle down,” a voice says. Maggie’s heart pounds until she realizes the words aren’t for her. She peeks around the edge to take a look. She recognizes the woman she sees. It’s the woman from the dog groomers’, the one who had seen her steal from the bakery. Now Maggie is even more intent on hiding, really not wanting the woman to see her and remember. It makes sense that she’s behind the dog groomers’ when she thinks about it, especially if the foul smell coming from the dumpster is any indication. Meanwhile, the cats have all gone still as soon as the woman speaks, sitting up and staring at her, tails flicking. The woman starts placing the dishes she’s carrying in front of them, and Maggie sees they’re full of food. The cats don’t move even when all the dishes are down, and Maggie watches in awe. “Enjoy,” the woman says, and all the cats nearly pounce on the bowls after being given permission. While they’re eating, the woman goes back through the door and comes back out with two larger bowls, filled with water. Some of the cats leave as soon as they’ve had their fill. Some of the others move a little ways away and start grooming themselves. The rest gather around the woman, twirling around her ankles and rubbing up against her legs. She pays special attention to these ones, stooping down to pet them. “I’m all out of catnip,” she tells them. “I should be getting more soon, along with the flea repellant.” Her voice is kind and it’s obvious she cares about these strays, who most of the other people in Midvale consider a nuisance. Out of nowhere, the woman looks toward the dumpster and Maggie ducks back around, holding her breath. “It seems you guys aren’t the only ones here who are hungry tonight.” And Maggie kicks herself because she must have been spotted, but then the woman adds, “Time for me to get my own dinner. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” And then there’s the sound of metal bowls being stacked and a door closing, and the cats start dispersing in different directions. Two of them come over to where Maggie’s still crouched, butting their heads against her knees. “Hi,” she whispers, holding out a hand for them to sniff. One of them – a calico with a notched ear – bats at her fingers playfully. She pets them both, until she notices that it’s really starting to get dark now. “I better go,” she tells them, standing up after double-checking that the coast is clear. The calico follows her, meowing. “Maybe I can come visit you again tomorrow,” Maggie says. “Seems like this is a pretty regular thing for you guys. I just can’t let anyone see me, okay?” The cat gives her a final meow and then scampers off, and Maggie heads home for the night. … She’s incredibly glad for the tent that night. Because not too long after she falls asleep, she’s woken up by a huge crack of thunder. And shortly after that, there’s another, and another, and then the sky opens up to a torrential downpour. She’s lucky. It’s the first real rain she’s had since coming to Midvale. There had only been a few short drizzles before this. But now, she’s nice and dry in her tent, and the thunderstorm doesn’t last very long. The rain continues throughout the night, but she’s lulled to sleep by the sound of it hitting the boards above her. When she wakes up the next morning, the sand around her tent is soaked, but the combination of the bottom tarp layer and the tent had kept her space completely dry. “I owe Lucy,” she says out loud. “Big time.” When she changes into clean clothes that morning, she can’t help but smile as she puts on the shirt Lucy had given her. And that makes her amend her thought from a few days ago. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to stop thinking about Lucy either. …

BAZ  I look up at the clock on the wall. There's still twenty minutes left. And I've already finished the test. I scan over my answers, not changing anything before I sneak a look at Snow. He's still on the first page, and he's gotten most of the questions wrong. He's chewing on the bottom of his pen as he narrows his eyes at the paper. You can't threaten a test, Snow, I want to tell him. I know for sure he doesn't even care about Chemistry. We once had an argument about why we had to take Chemistry, or any of the other Normal subjects we have to take at Watford. "Just because we have magic, doesn't mean we don't need an education, Snow," I rolled my eyes. "Yes it does!" he'd argued. "We have magic. We don't need anything else." "Careful Snow, you're starting to sound like the Old Families." He just scowled. I mean, he doesn't need to care. I highly doubt the Mage remembers what isomers are. I don't know why Snow's getting himself into such a fuss about it. I watch as he runs a hand through his bronze curls, tussling it around. He looks anxious. He looks scared. He looks like he's going to faint. Its unnerving. I shuffle around on my seat, looking around the classroom. Everyone else is still working (except Bunce, who's staring at Snow with a worried look on her face), staring down at their papers as the sound of scratching pencils fill the room. Well that and Snow's deep breathing. He does that when he's nervous. I used to think it was infuriating. Now it's just something I've accepted as a part of Snow. I look up just as Professor Chilblains scans the class. Then she sits back down at her desk and starts to mark some other tests, frowning. I rest my head on my hands, already dreading the next half an hour with nothing to do but be overly aware of every move I make next to Snow.  He sighs through gritted teeth when ink spills from his pen. What an idiot. He looks up at me, and I’m expecting him to scowl, but he just frowns slightly, his eyes wandering to my completed paper before he looks at his not completed paper. Then he leans back in his chair and drops his pen onto the table. He’s giving up. He’s quitting. He tips his head back and throws a forced smile when he makes eye contact with Bunce. She arches an eyebrow. He shakes his head. I shake my own head as I turn away from them. It’s so weird how they can talk without speaking. If I didn’t know them, I might think it’s magic, but it’s not. It’s just... friendship. I shudder. It’s weird as fuck, that’s what it is.  I sneak a glance at Snow as he and Bunce do their weird telepathy. He's disgarded his blazer once more, just like he does everyday. If anyone else chose to not wear their blazer everyday, they'd get detention, but because it's Simon Snow, the Mage's fucking Heir, the pride of Watford, he can do whatever he pleases. And no one even cares.  Snow turns back around and sighs. I can hear him gritting his teeth. This is un-fucking-bearable. I bite my lip looking down at Snow. He’s pouting and he’s folded his arms. He looks like a fucking child. I roll my eyes and tell myself to face away, to just sit still and don’t do anything. But I don’t listen. I don't even listen to my-fucking-self anymore. Snow has really messed up my priorities. I shoot a glance at Professor Chilblains, and when I see that she’s not looking, I slowly pull Snow’s paper over to me. He frowns and slams his hands on top of it, thudding against the wooden desk. Professor Chilblains looks up at us, but Snow doesn’t notice becuase (he’s so fucking dense) he’s staring at me. I kick him under the desk and he turns to the professor, blinking before he shrugs apologetically. I just school my face into a cast of boredom.  She narrows her eyes at us before she goes back to marking. I clench my jaw and widen my eyes at Snow when he looks up at me again. He frowns, suspicious, but lets me slide his paper over to me. I look down at it for a moment, and realise that what I’m doing is really fucking stupid, but I’m already practically doing it, so I start fixing it. I scribble out most of his mistakes and write the correct answers before I hand it back to him. He grabs it out of my hands, scowling as his blue eyes read what I've done, before they widen. He freezes before he turns to me, his head cocked. He's still got the massive gash down his face, I'm surprised no one's cast Early to Bed and Early to Rise on him yet. Maybe it's a magic injury - they're harder to heal. I bet I could do it. There's a spell; Healing of the Heart, that I've been reading about, that I bet I could do. It only works if you're seriously in love with the person you want to heal. In love as in, would rather die than lose them love. I think most of the spells in the World of Mages were created by angsty teenagers. "What are you doing?" Snow asks me. I think he tries to hiss it but it comes out confused and meek. I just shrug, and turn back to the front. I'm deadly aware of Snow staring at me for the rest of the period but I just keep still, holding my breath. When the bell rings, I stand up quickly and storm out of the class, ignoring Snow calling my name. What the fuck did I just do? * I walk through the corridors, letting my feet take me wherever. I don't care where I go right now, just as long as I get away from Snow. To be honest, Australia would be the most preferable place to be right about now. Well, maybe not. Flammable and all that. I sigh as I turn the corner and realise that I've ended up at the library. I look up at the massive, wooden doors and sigh, running a hand through my hair. I push the door open slowly and slip into the room. There’s only a of students here. There’s a clump of first-year students around one table, all of them muttering spells that shut their books or untie their shoes. There’s a couple of people on their own, just studying, all of different ages.  There’s a group of three girls in my year sitting at a table right next to where I’m currently hovering. I don’t know their names. They grin up at me and they look like they’re gonna try and talk to me. Fuck that. I nod at them before I walk right to the back of the library, leaving them scowling behind me.  As soon as I sit down at the empty table tucked away behind the shelves, and let myself breathe, I hear Snow’s fucking booming voice. Is this some sort of sick punishment? Was I a really shit person in my last life? I thought the vampire thing was punishment enough, but no. Of fucking course not. I had to have Snow thrown into my life aswell. Myabe he's just here to study. Or maybe he’s just meeting Bunce.  “Have you seen Baz?” Or maybe not. Fuck my shitting fucking life. “Yeah, he’s back there, I think.” “Oh, thanks, Rose.” I hold my breath as Snow turns the corner and our eyes meet. Then he frowns; his round nose crinkling and his brows furrowing. I narrow my eyes as he sits directly across from me. I don’t speak. If he wants to fucking talk then he can talk. We sit in silence for a moment, Snow obviously trying his very hardest to not talk. He clenches his jaw and grits his teeth before he finally gives in.  “What are you doing?”  I know he’s asking about the test and why I did, but I don’t even really know why I did it myself, so there’s no way I’m making this easy for him. Also, I’m an asshole and delight in pissing him off. “Studying,” I shrug. He frowns. "Where's your book then?" he asks, folding his arms. It's my turn to frown. I don't say anything just lean back in my own chair. "Why'd you help me?" "Because you were going to fail. Miserably," I shrug. Liar. I'm such a fucking liar. I helped you Snow, because I'm in love with you and your stupid, fucking face. Snow pouts and has the gall to look sheepish, as if he even should. "I don't understand Chemistry. It's stupid." He scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly. A thought pops into my head and I instantly want to slam it out. But I don't. "What are you doing on Friday, ten o'clock?" He arches an eyebrow before he runs a hand through that fucking hair. That hair keeps me up at night. "Nothing. Why?" he adds, suspicion creeping into his voice. "Be here. Bring your Chemistry stuff," I tell him. Crowley, I'm breaking all my rules today. He shakes his head. "I'm not doing anything with you, Baz," he hisses, using my name like a curse. I try to not flinch.  "Fine. Fail Chemistry. S'not my fault," I say as I stand up. Even though it was't ever my fault, but I'll feel guilty if I at least don't try and help him. He stands up as well, his eyes locking onto mine. A muscle ticks in his jaw as he bites the inside of his cheek. He licks his lips and I try to not let my legs wobble. "Ten o'clock," he says before he walks out, his back stiff. Well. That just happened.  

As soon as Wukong arrived down to the jungle he bolted towards the trees, dashing from branch to branch fast enough to feel the wind against his fur. It felt good, like he was filling a primal urge or a sort of instinct. Either way, his crazy jumping along the vines and trees didn’t last long for he encountered the upper hand of a crystal clear waterfall. With a smile from ear to ear Monkey King sum summoned his loyal cloud and took a dive into its freshwater. In that moment, when he felt the water hit his fur and soak his purple robe, Wukong disconnected from everything. His bubbly laughter filled up the air as he splashed and played with the water, droplets of this liquid across his fur and shining bright under the sun rays. He had missed this, the way things used to be, the way his life was before his Journey to the West…when Macaque was by his side as a companion, a friend, and a lover. He wouldn't change anything, he knows why things had to be done but that didn't mean he didn't miss it or wonder what could have been. He climbed some nearby rocks to rest a bit and glanced at his belly, at three months of his pregnancy he could notice the smallest of bumps that softened his abdomen.  He noticed that since he discovered he was pregnant the times where he touched his belly were a bit rare like it was some sort of intimate act, only done when he was very comfortable or alone, and he knew why, it made him soft, vulnerable. Perhaps, now that he was alone he could and so he did, and just as he did it he left out an almost inaudible chirp, and that surprised him. It felt very weird, never in a million years would he have imagined growing a baby inside of him. He wondered how they would be, how they would look. Like him?  Or like… "Macaque." he breathed his name out, the curve of his mouth now upside down. Now his soaked robe instead of fresh it felt cold, even with the warm golden sun rays that basked him.  He missed him so much, it wasn't even ironic anymore, it felt like a part of him was missing. It was so crazy how fine the line was between love and hate, but he knew those were his emotions going all crazy, he couldn't risk it. He wasn't sure Macaque knew about the magic pregnancy shenanigans, because there was always that possibility, but also another where he didn't know. A part of him hoped for the best, to think the best of him.  He remembered the night he shared with him in the festival, how soft his dark fur felt, his soulful eyes, his deep voice, how even if they were sworn enemies he still treated him gently when needed and roughly when asked all over his pleasure spots that he seemed to remember even after hundreds of years. Wukong blushed hard at that memory. Indeed, Macaque was a very attractive creature, even after all this time, he still had a very delicious, intoxicating musky scent, one that could turn him on in an instant just thinking about it, and it did. The mere thought set a hot thrill down his spine.  The monkey then scanned the area, no one but him was there. Perhaps he shouldn’t but then he thought again about Macaque’s earthy scent and the idea of stopping seemed to be out of the question. It wouldn't hurt to have some me time right? He had been too busy since the Mid Autumn Festival to pleasure himself since then.   -----NSFW WARNING Wukong grabbed onto the memory of that night he had shared with Macaque as he adjusted himself on the soft warm river rock, his wet cloak now pressing against his skin.  He took his own tail and pressed on its base firmly just like Macaque had done, starting to get into the mood. "Cute. You always had a sensitive tail peaches." Wukong let out a sigh as he continued shyly playing with his tail, feeling his below throb with need in a pool of warmth. He imagined the hot steamy breath from Macaque's voice whispering in his ears how good he took him in, how much of a mess he was. The monkey whimpered, then used his other hand to grasp onto his needy member already wet with precum as he continued stimulating his tail, damn his hormones must be really messing him up. "Like this peaches?" “Yes.”, Wukong let out a low moan as he slid up and down, quickly setting a pace. He used his thumb to circle the tip of his member as he felt his cheeks getting warmer and warmer by the minute. It felt so fucking good to think about him, about his lean muscles, his thick cock inside of him, the aggressive thrusts that made him begg, submit to him.  The Monkey King let a deep breath out between whimpers as he felt himself getting close. His cloak has loosened up and a couple of sweat drops slid down his bare chest as it rose up and down in quick breaths. The heat building up from inside him was driving him crazy as he increased the pace, moaning along with the slick wet noises under the sound of the waterfall. He wanted him. Macaque. Macaque. Macaque. Macaque. "Heaven's you are so hot Sun Wukong." "Macaque." Wukong whimpered as he threw back his head, going completely stiff for a moment as he felt the release of his hot seed. His muscles spasmed and left a light tremble in his legs as he caught his breath in the afterglow.  ------END OF NSFW WARNING   That's when it hit him like bricks, heck, he just pleased himself with the thought of his enemy, of the night he betrayed his own principles and slept with Macaque. He felt shameful. "What? Didn't like it peaches? Cause I can see a pool of your seed telling me otherwise."   "AUGH JUST GET OUT OF MY HEAD FUCKING BASTARD!" the monkey let out as he splashed cold water at his face, multiple times, in hopes to snap out of it, to erase that ridiculous blush from his cheeks. Monkey King facepalmed in defeat, knowing by the strong beat of his heart and the sea of thoughts invading his mind that he was indeed fucked. "Fuck." he cursed at his dumb heart. "Who'd known that that mighty Monkey King had such an extensive vocabulary?" Okay, that was it. "You are gonna be the end of me dumbass."

todo bb it's gonna be okay Touya: be there soon, sorry Shouto reads the message for the twelfth time in the past two minutes, then glances up at the door again. The coffee shop is empty aside from him and the one employee who dares to take the early shift, but it doesn’t stop Shouto from glancing around the space anyway. Not that he expects his father to show up, but he’s already found Shouto, he can’t find Touya as well. Dabi. He wonders how he’d come up with that name, and if he would prefer that Shouto use it as well. But he’d added his own number to Shouto’s phone, and put his name as ‘Touya’, so that must be alright? He glances at the clock again, at the second hand ticking away - he’s only a few minutes late, supposing he arrives soon, but Shouto’s anxiety ticks up along with the clock. Every minute he doesn’t show, Shouto wonders if he plans on coming at all. The bell over the door startles him, and he glances back over to find Touya walking in. His hair is wet, like he just got out of the shower, and his clothes look rumpled and disheveled. He must’ve only just woken up - Shouto had suggested they meet later, but Touya had said he’d be nearby and wouldn’t mind getting up early. He doesn’t look too different, Shouto thinks as he walks over - his hair’s a different color, of course, and the scars almost blend into the rest of his skin now, but Shouto had still known his brother the moment he’d seen him at the house. Touya sits without a word, but he’s tense, and Shouto’s never been the best at breaking the ice. “You’re late, did something happen?” Touya glances up, brows lifted high on his forehead, and Shouto wonders if he’s overstepped. Just because they’re related doesn’t mean he’s entitled to Touya’s life - but he’s curious anyway. It’d taken a lot of willpower not to ask Touya where he’s been upon first seeing him last night. Touya blinks at him, and his lip quirks up in what Shouto knows to be the Todoroki family version of a smile. “Got distracted,” Touya says, “sorry I didn’t respond right away.” Shouto had sent a few texts, mostly just to be sure Touya was awake and that they were still on for coffee. That Touya hadn’t skipped town again, without any notice to Shouto. “Hawks?” Shouto asks - they’d been together the whole night, Touya wrapped in Hawks’ arms. He’d looked happy - distant, but happy. He laughs now, loudly enough that the sound echoes around the empty space. “You always were so observant, little brother.” Touya shakes his head. “Yes, I was with Hawks.” Shouto chooses to avoid commenting on the sudden flush on his cheeks, the way he ducks his head, the joke he made to deflect. “And you’re with the green-haired kid?” Dabi quirks a brow at him, and it’s Shouto’s turn for a wave of warmth to rush through him. “Midoriya Izuku,” Shouto says, and he’s sort of wishing Izuku were here, even just as moral support. He doesn’t know that Shouto’s here, that Touya is here. He’ll tell him later, once the dust has settled. “Pretty bubbly kid,” Touya comments, and Shouto blows out a breath. “Have you met Hawks?” he asks in return, which earns him another laugh. Touya’s grin stays around this time, and he levels his gaze on Shouto. “So,” he says, and he leans forward to prop his elbows up on the table. “What happened?” Shouto can hear the big brother tone leaking in, and he can feel that wave of spite he’d held onto for so many years rise up to the surface. But it’s so distant, this time, so insignificant in comparison to the deep peace he’s felt for so many days, the warmth he feels at being able to see his brother again. So he lets that spite fall away. The curiosity doesn’t, though. “Father wasn’t much of a fan of the people I brought home.” Shouto shrugs. “Clearly, you escaped before he could pass that judgment on you.” He’s not sure if he’s being too cryptic, or too accusatory - Touya blinks for a few seconds, like he might not be sure either, then he sits back with a sigh and a wry grin on his lips. “Not that there was anyone for me to bring home,” he quips back, and Shouto watches his hand tug at the sleeve of his jacket. He may have run away long before Shouto, but it’s clear he’s still trying to escape their father’s wrath. All those years Shouto spent angry at Touya for leaving, he’d forgotten that Touya was just as much a victim as Shouto. He sees that now, in the soft lighting of the coffee shop he’s come to think of as a second home. They were never enemies, just allies that took different paths. He’s glad their paths have crossed again. --------- Dabi leaves after an hour, under the guise of having things to do, but Shouto can see the exhaustion in his expression. For once, Shouto’s in agreement - in spite of the coffee, he can feel sleep tugging at him. Or maybe it’s just the allure of the bed Izuku’s still probably fast asleep in. Maybe that’s what tugs at Dabi as well - Hawks in his bed, waiting for his return. He doesn’t say it aloud, but he thinks Dabi seems happy. For some reason, he’d avoided saying as much at the party, but there’s something like a spark in Dabi’s eyes, and maybe he’s in the same boat as Shouto: not quite as happy as he hopes to someday be, but on his way there. The brisk air greets Shouto when he steps outside, and he’s grateful for the way it wakes him. In spite of the burst of energy, he takes his time walking home - he doesn’t want to know where Dabi went, or where he lives. Best not to risk that, not with their father’s recent and unexpected visit still looming over his head. It’s safer for them both if he doesn’t know. So he meanders, walks up and down side streets and inhales the steam from the peppermint coffee he ordered to go. He’s missed his family, of course, but his sister and other brother had thrown in their lot with his father - or, rather, they’d thrown in the towel, watching with worried but distant eyes and closed mouths as his father kicked Shouto out. He wonders what Dabi would’ve done. Dabi had been the black sheep from the start, though. Shouto would like to believe he’d have fought back. But that piece of his life is a chapter he wants to turn the page on, so he does. He’d rather move forward than focus on the past, and he gets the feeling Dabi would like to do the same. “Are you sure you don’t mind me calling you Touya still?” Dabi shrugs, but Shouto can see the way his eyes flick to the table at the name. He doesn’t have to say it aloud, but he’s no longer Touya. He hasn’t been Touya in a while, Shouto thinks. “It’s no big deal, it’s the name you know me as.” His explanation lacks any kind of conviction, though. Shouto tilts his head. “I don’t think you’re Touya anymore,” Shouto says, “and that’s okay.” Dabi’s gaze lifts from his coffee, but he glances back down the moment Shouto meets his eyes. “I like Dabi,” he says. “Both the name and the person.” No, Dabi hasn’t been Touya since the day he left - maybe even longer than that, but it’s not his place to pry. He would rather they both move forward. After what feels like hardly a minute but must’ve been at least twenty, Shouto finds himself back at the gate of the house he’s called home for the past several months. He wonders if Dabi has a place to call home, or if he’s been drifting. Shouto had worried, sometimes, about how easy it was for his brother to disconnect from reality, from the world around him. While Shouto had always been desperate for an explanation, digging into their world until his fingers bled, Dabi had been detached, disinterested. But he hadn’t seemed that way this morning. Maybe he’s finally found something to ground him. The handle feels icy under Shouto’s hand, and he lets it center him. He wants to talk to Izuku about this, but he needs a clear head first. ------- “That’s so crazy to think you somehow ended up in the same town as your brother,” Izuku says, eyes wide. He hadn’t been asleep, just laying in bed and messing around on his phone. Shouto wonders if he’d been waiting for him to return. The idea makes him want to smile. “Maybe it’s fate or something?” “I don’t believe in fate,” Shouto says - although a part of him wishes he did, or wishes he believed in anything, really. Izuku’s hand closes around his, though, and he gives Shouto a smile. Perhaps he believes in Izuku, and in people like him. “In any event,” Shouto continues, “I think I’d like to spend more time with him, once all this business with my father blows over.” He’s still at risk, Shouto thinks - his father hadn’t found Dabi, not for years, and Shouto won’t be the reason he does now. He can protect him. “Have you talked to Iida yet?” Izuku’s voice stays gentle, but the question doesn’t pain Shouto the way it might’ve done a week ago. He nods. “He’s already filed the paperwork.” Iida had been clear and concise in walking through the steps for a restraining order and what that meant for both him and his father, and Shouto had signed the papers without hesitation. Izuku nods, then squeezes Shouto’s hand. “Would Dabi want the same? I’m sure Iida would be glad to help,” he suggests, and Shouto blinks at him. It feels like an easy fix to his current problem, but would it only cause more distress? Shouto’s already expecting some backlash from his own restraining order, but would it put Dabi at risk for their father to know where he is, or to deduce that he’s with Shouto? Izuku must read some kind of look on his face, because he squeezes Shouto’s hand again. “A conversation for another time, maybe just bring it up as an option.” Shouto nods, but his head swims with the potential benefits and drawbacks. He doesn’t move when Izuku crawls from the bed, mumbling something about a shower. Shouto’s phone weighs heavily in his pocket, and he takes it out and lets it sink into the blankets on the mattress instead. It’s not a terrible idea, if the law can uphold its end of the bargain - both Shouto and Dabi would be safe, they could live without constantly checking over their shoulders. But it puts them both at risk of their father’s anger, should he decide he’s above the law. No - he has a family now, a real family, and they wouldn’t let his father get to him. They’ve already proven that, and it doesn’t do him any good to doubt them now. He unlocks his phone and opens his messages with Dabi - which still say ‘Touya’, so he changes that before typing out his message. Shouto: i’m getting a restraining order against our father, would you like one? Like he’s asking about an ice cream or a cup of coffee, I’m heading out to pick it up, would you like one as well? He’s a little surprised by how quickly a response comes in. Dabi: never occurred to me but what the hell, can’t hurt, right? Shouto has the urge to explain that it very much could hurt, but then, perhaps that’s a conversation better had in person. It has very little to do with how nice it’d been seeing his brother this morning, nor how much he’d like to see him again sooner rather than later. Shouto: iida is helping with it, he can probably get yours too. I’ll talk to him, it seemed pretty straightforward. You can probably stop by any time. Dabi doesn’t respond immediately to that one, so Shouto takes a deep breath before standing from the bed. He should’ve probably mentioned this to Iida before agreeing on his behalf, but he trusts Izuku’s instincts that Iida would likely help. And he trusts his friends. -------------- pika pika Denki holds his breath, doing his best not to make a single sound. “Dabi is...your brother?” Iida’s voice sounds muffled behind the half-closed door, but Denki’s absolutely certain he heard correctly. Dabi? Dabi, that guy is Todoroki’s brother? He can’t even begin to unpack all that because he’s got a full load of laundry half-falling from his hands and he needs to get out of here before they notice he’s been standing outside for the past few minutes. He does his best tip-toeing past the door and into the hall, then rushes to load the washer and get it started. With any luck, they won’t have realized he’d walked past them after collecting the dirty clothes from Mic and Aizawa’s room, or maybe they won’t hear the machine starting at all. His feet move of their own volition, flinging him full force into the lounge - he needs to talk to Hitoshi right now. “You gotta- uh,” Denki pauses as he slides into the lounge to find Bakugou frowning up at him from where he’s sitting across from Hitoshi. “Shinsou,” Denki widens his eyes, hoping to convey the seriousness of this situation - and the gossip - via brainwaves alone. “Kaminari,” Hitoshi says back, frowning at the formality. “What’s up?” He sets his laptop aside, and Denki glances over to find Bakugou quirking a brow. He looks back at Hitoshi and jerks his head toward the staircase. “I was hoping you could, uh, help me with that project, you know the one?” he emphasizes, lifting his brows a bit higher - hopefully Hitoshi will get the message, and- “Oh my god, if you’re gonna go fuck, just go, jesus christ.” Bakugou’s voice cuts through Denki’s thoughts like a knife, and he sputters out a laugh. Actually, that probably would’ve been a faster way to get Hitoshi alone, he can’t believe he didn’t think of it himself. He turns to find Hitoshi’s mouth wide and his face bright red, and Denki takes the excuse to grab his hand and drag him from the sofa and up the stairs. He leads them to Hitoshi’s room, does a quick check of the hall, then shuts the door. “What was that?” Hitoshi asks, and Denki turns around to find his head in his hands. “Oh, what, like they don’t already know?” Denki laughs - he’s never understood the stigma around sex, like it’s some secret they can’t be open about. Besides, they’re certainly not the first or last to hook up in the house. “Yeah, way to get me in the mood.” Hitoshi flops back on the bed, and his hands find the top button of his shirt. Denki sits on the edge of the mattress and grabs his hand. “No no no no, that was just a ruse,” he explains, shaking Hitoshi’s arm. “I have gossip.” Normally, Mina would be the first to hear about this, but he needs to make sure it’s not already known. Because if Hitoshi knows, it’s known, and Mina almost definitely knows it. And then she’ll never let Denki live it down for not knowing. Hitoshi blows out a breath at the ceiling, then waves a hand to indicate Denki regale him. “Dabi, that guy with Hawks last night?” “You mean the guy who was also with that creep last week?” Hitoshi’s lip turns down in a scowl - Denki’s starting to get the feeling he doesn’t know. Besides, he’s usually only this hostile toward new people. If he’d known Dabi before, or known about him, he’d probably be more likely to give him the benefit of the doubt. “That guy,” Denki glosses over the negative there. “Did you know he’s Todoroki’s brother?” So far, most of the things Denki’s told Hitoshi have earned him a small laugh, then a placating ‘yes, I knew that’, but this one makes his eyes widen. “His brother, really?” Hitoshi’s gaze tracks to the sheets beneath them, and he frowns. “Todoroki didn’t tell us, did Aizawa or Mic know?” Denki’s not sure where he’s going with this, but he shrugs - they could’ve, for all he knows. Usually Hitoshi’s the one who gets all his information from them. “If Iida’s involved, though,” Denki deduces, “Aizawa or Mic must’ve known.” Nothing goes through him that doesn’t also make its way up to either of them. “If not, they’ll know soon,” Hitoshi adds, finishing Denki’s train of thought. “So, y’think Mina knows yet?” Hitoshi rolls his eyes. ------ “He’s what?” Mina practically shouts, and Denki shushes her before glancing around - fortunately, they’re up on the third floor, and there’s not really much reason for Todoroki to be up here, probably. He glares at Mina anyway, not that she seems to really care much about her volume. “Oh my god, how- how did you find out?” “I was passing the library and he was in there with Iida, and I-” “Oh my god, you eavesdropped?” she says, as if she hasn’t done that herself on many occasions. She crosses her arms at him, but he just rolls his eyes. “He said it himself,” Denki continues, intent on explaining the whole conversation. “Who said what now?” Momo’s voice startles Denki, and he whirls around to find her climbing the stairs, a bookbag slung over her shoulder. She sets it down with a thump, then raises her brows at Denki. “Dabi is Todoroki’s brother!” Mina interjects before Denki can say anything, and he blows out a breath - he really should’ve known this was how it’d go if he told Mina first. He should’ve started with everyone else… “He’s- oh, I could see that,” Momo nods, leaving her bag in the middle of the hall and making her way to the room. Denki stares at her, jaw on the floor. “You’re not even a little surprised?” he asks. She just flops onto the bed. “I am, really!” He can hear the placating tone she takes, like he’s some little kid she has to humor. He crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s just tired,” Mina adds, a bright grin on her lips, and she shoos Denki from the room. “We’ll talk about it later!” He frowns, but lets himself be pushed from the room - besides, with Mina occupied, he gets to be the one to tell everyone the gossip. After a quick glance upstairs, he determines Tokoyami probably already knows. Tsu and Uraraka’s room is empty, the door swung open like they’d left in a rush. Or maybe were just too lazy to close it. At the very least, though, Denki’s sure Eijirou will play into his excitement and surprise over this discovery. ------ “Huh,” Eijirou tilts his head, looking up to the ceiling. “Guess that makes sense, why they’d leave so quick after the party. And Todoroki had been quick to go to sleep.” Okay, so his surprise isn’t as enthusiastic as Denki had hoped, but it’s better than Bakugou’s quirked brow before he’d gone back to whatever he was doing on his laptop. He doesn’t even glance up at Kirishima’s deductions. “D’you think he knew?” Eijirou asks, and Denki frowns. “That he had a brother?” He supposes it’s possible he hadn’t known, but then how would the subject have come up in conversation? He doesn’t even recall seeing them talking, but he had been a bit- “No, you dumbass,” Eijirou elbows Bakugou, but he doesn’t look particularly chastised for the insult, “that his brother would be there.” It seems Bakugou’s taken over the role of reading Eijirou’s mind, which is probably for the best because Denki had never been great at it. Besides, he’s got enough on his plate with Hitoshi anyway. “He had to have known, right? Or did he definitely not know, and that’s why they left?” Denki’s brain twists at Eijirou’s words, all the possibilities overlapping each other and demanding his consideration. “I dunno,” Denki admits, “maybe it’s something totally different? I mean, Todoroki didn’t even mention a brother until now.” “But did Midoriya know?” Bakugou chimes in, and Denki’s brow lifts - he hadn’t expected him to be one for gossip, but he’s glad for the extra input. “He must’ve, Todoroki only really talks to him, he’s probably mentioned his brother, right?” Eijirou turns to Bakugou, who just shrugs. “You could ask him.” Todoroki’s voice startles Denki, and he grabs the nearest pillow to duck behind. He hadn’t even thought to check the hall, but Eijirou left his door open and now Todoroki’s standing in the doorway, face as emotionless as ever as he glances at each of them. Bakugou has the common sense to look back at his laptop and pretend he hadn’t been participating, but Denki can see Eijirou’s face turn red out of the corner of his eye. “Dabi is my brother,” Todoroki confirms, though Denki had heard it before. “Both he and I suffered at the hands of my father, which is why I was discussing with Iida whether he could assist with an additional restraining order for him.” Denki sinks back into his chair, hoping it’ll suck him in - clearly, Todoroki had figured out what happened, that he’d overheard their conversation. Nobody speaks, and Denki suspects they’re all a little uncomfortable at being caught gossiping, but Eijirou clears his throat. “If we can help, let us know,” he says, and his voice sounds far more confident than he suspects Eijirou’s actually feeling. Denki nods, and Bakugou makes some sound that might be interpreted as an agreement. Todoroki stands still in the doorway, so still that Denki has half a mind to go check that he’s actually there and not some statue, until he finally blinks and nods. “I appreciate it,” he says, and Denki exhales when he finally turns and leaves the room. Not that he’s scary or anything, but he has such a cool determination about him that Denki would hate to end up on his bad side. “Probably shouldn’t be gossiping,” Bakugou comments. Denki has half a mind to add that he had been participating, but Eijirou rolls his eyes and gives Denki a tiny shake of his head. “Well...better be going,” he says after a few more moments of silence, then he makes his way out the door. Where he proceeds to run almost directly into Todoroki, who’s staring down at his phone with a frown. “Whoa- hey there,” Denki says, narrowly avoiding collision. Todoroki seems entirely unaffected, but he does glance up after a moment. “Will Aizawa and Mic mind if Dabi comes over now?” he asks, and Denki’s surprised to find a small crease between his brows. “I haven’t had the chance to discuss with them yet, but-” “I’m sure it’s fine,” Denki waves a hand. For all his teasing, for all the gossip, he can’t even begin to imagine how Todoroki must’ve felt, how he must be feeling. Family can really stir up emotions, and he’s pretty sure Todoroki’s never felt more than two or three of those in his life before now. “He said he’s bringing Hawks, will that be okay?” Todoroki’s tone borders on worried, and that’s enough to shift Denki into full caretaker mode. “It’s totally fine, everyone loves Hawks! You should go let Iida know Dabi’s coming so he can get everything ready.” He waves a hand toward the stairs, and Todoroki’s eyes glaze for a moment before he nods and heads down to the lounge.

A month before … Scott stood in the preserve, waiting in a space between two nearly limbless, decaying trees. He felt powerful with his red eyes: the sign of his being a true alpha. A true alpha, in his mind, meant he was so honorable that he did not have to kill to get those red eyes. He could persevere through pure will power and doing the moral thing. He often thought, if that way of becoming an alpha was not honorable, then what was? He then heard the chaos coming his way. Jackson and Theo were running down a group of coyotes, herding them toward Scott. Many of the coyotes tried to change course, but Jackson and Theo made sure to chase aggressively at them. The wolves in human skin set a panicked pace while not allowing the coyotes to get past them in their nearly crazed method of pursuit. Growling and drawing blood when they could, Theo and Jackson kept the group of coyotes running to Scott. Deaton had warned Scott that there was a victim among the coyotes—a girl trapped in her shift. Upon finding this out, Scott assumed it was a sign that he had to rescue the girl. He believed it would cement his being a true alpha, which he thought equaled moral superiority. As he saw the group of coyotes barreling through the trees towards him, Scott took a deep breath and let loose his alpha roar. When his roar hit the coyotes, most just kept running to escape as best as they could; however, one skidded to a stop as she began to shift. She dropped to her knees as she finished shifting to her human form. The girl held her hands up, studying her wiggling digits. She seemed to be trying to process what just happened. The coyote turned girl had a lithe build, tanned skin, and long, mousey brown hair. She seemed to have no issue with being completely bare in front of three guys, but rather she continued to focus on her human hands. It seemed she may not have been human for a very long time. Scott, smiling, approached her without any real caution. He stepped within her arm span but faltered when she turned to him and growled. Scott was not expecting that reaction; he was the hero after all. The she-coyote kept her predatory eyes on Scott. She didn’t rush to stand or flee. She seemed to be adjusting to her human body, but it was hard to say for sure. Scott slowly took a pouch from the back pocket of his pants. He knelt to her level as he took a necklace out of the pouch. The piece of jewelry was simply a small but full pouch on a string. Scott then said, “I know you may be confused, but I have something that will help you: this necklace. I need to put it on you, but then everything will be okay.” While Scott knelt to her level, holding her attention, Theo and Jackson approached her from behind. Scott moved like he was going to try to put the necklace on her. The she-coyote immediately threw herself back from the approaching predator, but Jackson and Theo were close enough to latch onto her, holding her still just barely. There would no doubt be bruises on her when all was said and done. Scott moved fast, attaching the necklace onto her as Jackson and Theo were struggling to maintain a hold of her with her fast, wild movements. The moment the necklace was latched on her, she stopped struggling. She looked to Scott with expressionless eyes and said, “Thank you so much for saving me, Alpha. I’m sorry I did not realize you were helping me.” -------------------------------------------- Two weeks Later … Three murdered. Their bodies in the morgue. Stiles swallowed hard—he could do this. It’s not like he hasn’t been in the morgue before with it white medical walls for dealing with the dead and taupe offices for addressing the living. He shook out his hands and checked through the door window to see if the room he sought was empty. It looked clear, so as quietly as he could, he slid the door open and stepped in. Inside, he checked his phone, but Lydia had not messaged, which was as much of a go-ahead as he could get. He walked around, looking for files on the murders. Struggling to find what he was looking for—cause of death and names of the murder victims—Stiles decided that he would take a faster option. He may not like it, but he had no way of knowing how long Lydia would be able to keep the front desk attendant busy with hair twirling flirtations. Stiles walked out of the room and crept to a different, colder room. He checked for anyone in there first. Seeing no one, Stiles slipped into the room and walked straight to the wall with the drawers of body storage. He knew there were only three murdered people here. With a steadying breath, Stiles mentally reminded himself that he didn’t need any of the wolves for help with this. It wasn’t like they were hounding to support him or notice anything different with him, Forcing himself forward, Stiles started pulling the drawers out, checking for the ones that had bodies. Most were empty. One had an older person who showed no signs of anything but old age. He soon came upon what he was looking for: murder victims. One at a time, he rolled them out of their drawers all the way. He took notes in his phone as he worked one body at a time. The first body was a woman. She had light blonde hair, a face full of laugh lines, and she was petite. Stiles noted the she did not have many calluses on her hands, but quite a bit on the bottom of her feet. Stiles took a lot of notes about her appearance, working around his horror at what had happened to her. After a closed eyes moment with himself, he pulled more of the sheet off the body, seeing a glimpse of what was likely a very painful death: she had deep claw marks all over her body. Her chest was ripped open. Stiles noted to himself there seemed to be some blade cuts as well. It was a complete mess even with the blood cleaned off the corpse. After he noted all he could about the woman, Stiles slid her drawer shut. He then turned away from body storage to the counter in the room. He looked around further, realizing that under the counter were filing cabinets possibly for active files. Growling quietly at himself, Stiles searched the counter itself for more information on the bodies. Nothing. Despite the counter being devoid of anything helpful, Stiles knelt down and started looking through the file cabinets. It was harder without names, but he was looking rather for numbers—numbers that matched the toe tag on the woman’s big toe. Stiles hoped it would work. It did, with way more sorting than he’d hoped would be required. This problem was taking him too long. Grabbing the file when he found it, he did not bother reading it. Instead, he took a picture of each page in the file before putting it back. Just then, he got a vibration from his phone, signaling a text. He opened his phone back up, reading the text: Lydia: Done yet? Stiles: Close Lydia: Hurry Stiles: K Stile then returned to the wall of body drawers. He hunted quickly, noting on his phone the toe tag numbers of the two other bodies obviously murdered in similar fashions to the initial murdered body. He then put them away and went to the file cabinets. He rushed through to find the needed files. He took pictures of all the pages in the files. He then put everything back the way it was. After stuffing his phone in his pocket, Stiles slipped out of the room. He then slipped out of a back door of the morgue that assistants used to sneak out for smoke breaks. Thankfully, none of them were there to see him leave as he texted: Stiles: Out Lydia: finally Stiles smiled, knowing she really didn’t like having to flirt just to get what she wanted as much as she used to. He then moved to head home—he’d need to make his father dinner soon—however, he also stopped by a bakery to get Lydia her favorite lemon squares on the way home. Just as he drove his blue Jeep into the driveway, Stiles felt another text. Once he had the Jeep parked and off, Stiles took his phone from his pocket to see who texted him. Looking, he realized that it was not a text but a voice message, from his Dad. Stiles frowned at having missed the call, but he listened to the message before getting out of the Jeep. It seemed his Dad had to pick up a second shift due to the murders. -------------------------------------------- Later that evening … In a pink blouse and skinny faded jeans, Lydia was sitting on Stiles’ bed looking through a tome Stiles had gotten a hold of a while back, having long since kicked off her yellow heels. His resourcefulness could be quite shocking if one were to underestimate him. Lydia worked not to. Too many surprises could cause wrinkles, she thought with a smile. Having noticed her smile, Stiles asked, “Find anything helpful?” She looked over to where Stiles was sitting in his computer chair, wearing loose jeans and a baggy graphic t-shirt depicting the maze from Labyrinth, looking through some print outs they had gotten from Alison. With a shrug, Lydia said, “Not really. The Latin to English translation is a bit inconsistent, so it takes a bit to understand. I wish a version in the original Latin was just lying around for us to use.” Stiles rolled his eyes, seemingly knowing she just wished that there was a true playbook on being a Banshee rather than just bits and pieces here and there. He then offered: “Want to take a break and grab something to eat? I even suspect there may be some company interested.” Lydia smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. She asked, “Want Alison to bring her Dad too?” Stiles shook his head with a grin, “Naw, was hoping our favorite serial killer would join us.” She sighed, saying, “I know there is something going on with him that’s helping you, but I just… what he did to me? To bring him back… I just. It’s hard to move past that.” Stiles got up, setting the papers he was holding aside. After moving to her, Stiles hugged Lydia close, saying, “I know, I know… but he, of everyone, knows the most about what you are. You don’t have to like him, be nice to him, or anything like that. And if you don’t want to question him or take that avenue to learn more about yourself, then we won’t. I won’t force this on you.” -------------------------------------------- Across town … Scott was sitting behind the school, leaning against the side of the tan building and waiting. He had been out of lacrosse practice for a few minutes. One of his fellow players—Adrian—was really struggling with being a bench warmer. It seemed he had joined the team to grow in social status. It was seriously not working. It was a little rougher being in lacrosse with Stiles having quit the team, but he at least had Jackson. However, with Issac also on the team, Scott was itching for having more support to make sure the other pack didn’t get any ideas of trying to get to him through the team. Scott suggested to Adrian to meet him behind the school after practice, figure they could both be helped if Adrian agreed to the bite. While waiting for Adrian, Scott texted Alison: Hey, wanna meet up to grab a bite to eat? Scott then noticed Adrian heading his way. He struggled to wait, so he started walking toward Adrian. Adrian was wearing a tight black t-shirt and slightly baggy tan khaki pants. With his backpack hanging on one shoulder, he said, “Hey Scott, what’s you want to talk about?” “Well, I wanted to offer you a way to be stronger and faster… it could cause you to no longer be a bench warmer,” Scott replied. -------------------------------------------- The next afternoon… After school and lacrosse practice, Scott had walked to Alison’s house. He would have had a ride, but Stiles was no where to be found to recruit into his getting Alison back plan. In regular fit jeans, gray sneakers, and a red t-shirt, Scott walked right up to the Argent’s front door like it was the most right and natural thing to do. He knocked on their door, imagining Alison leaping out at him with a hug or a kiss desperate for him, wanting him back now that he was a true alpha. Instead of Scott’s assumed outcome, Chris Argent, Alison’s dad, answered the door. Wearing dark colored jeans, a white t-shirt, a buttoned up dark green shirt, boots, 5 o’clock shadow, and his signature frown, Chris looked as no nonsense as ever when he saw Scott at his door. His silence spoke volumes Scott was clearly not listening to. Scott piped up, saying, “Hey, is Alison home?” Chris sighed, and then said, “No.” “Oh,” Scott said. “Well, can I wait for her to get home inside?” “No,” Chris said as he stepped out of his home, shutting the door behind himself, his body language loud and clear on the subject. Scott did not notice, instead asking, “Well, do you at least know when she’s going to be home?” “No,” Chris responded, seemingly expecting Scott to get the message. Scott frowned a bit. He then asked, “Do you know where she is? I could go and meet up with her… I know she wants to catch up on things.” “No,” Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest. Scott finally stopped, glaring at Chris as he left. Scott refused to let Chris keep Alison from him. They were meant to be together. Nothing could come between them. He knew that if only he could talk to Alison everything would be fixed and they’d get back together. Once Scott had left, Chris went back into his house. -------------------------------------------- Present … Scott and Theo left to look for Peter, knowing the rest of their pack was doing the same, having started from a different part of preserve. He smiled to himself, knowing that his powerful, better pack would find the deranged wolf that was Peter before Derek and his even made it halfway to wherever Peter was. Hoping that things would align for Peter to be put down, Scott was all smiles as they moved around through the darkness to find Peter. Perhaps as a true alpha it was his duty to put down the unjust? Maybe it would cause Alison to even see him as a hero, as boyfriend material again. A snippet of “Rockstar” by Nickleback blared from Scott’s phone to notify him of a text. He paused in his walking to check his text notification. Adrian: Malia hears people fighting deeper in the preserve. Want us to investigate? Theo moved to where Scott had stopped. He looked over Scott’s shoulder at the text, asking, “Do we need to head their way?” Scott shrugged, saying, “Probably. I don’t want it to be Peter and we miss out on catching him before he kills someone. He’s incredibly dangerous.” Scott: Yes

Rita is a stunning woman. That is something that everyone who knows her agrees upon. How could anyone not agree? She is 5 feet 8 inches tall, a blue-eyed blonde with long straight hair reaching down to her waist. She has the figure of a college cheerleader. It seems incredible that a woman with such a narrow waist could have such magnificent tits, a full 36C and as firm as a teenager’s. Her shapely ass and legs draw admiring stares from every red-blooded man who ever sees them. She did some modeling in her early twenties, and her bikini-clad picture appeared in a popular magazine. Many men have kept that picture of Rita, without their wife’s knowledge, and they have the picture carefully hidden, to be brought out by the men at very private moments, usually in the bathroom. Rita is a real head-turner as she strides elegantly down the main street of this mid-Western town, dressed for success as always, her magnificent ass swaying seductively. Rita is married to Derek, and has been for about two years. Derek is the envy of every man who knows him and his wife. He is a very ordinary guy, nothing special to look at, and his buddies often wonder what it is about him that enabled him to land a hot-looking babe like Rita. Some guys wondered if Derek was hung like a stallion, but those who played softball with him, and had seen him undressed in the locker room, said that his cock was nothing special, and might even be a bit on the small side. Whatever it was that had attracted Rita to Derek, it was still present as Rita was strictly a one-guy woman. Most of the guys had tried to make a move on Rita at sometime or another, usually at one of the large barbecues or corn-roasts held in the town. The beer and rye whiskey always flows freely at these events, and some guy or another, with more than a few shots of liquor in his belly, was always ready to try to sweet-talk Rita into a little frolic behind the nearest barn. But no one, ever, had gotten anything from these feeble attempts, anything other than the cold shoulder. As soon as Rita figured that the babbling fool in front of her was nothing but a would-be Romeo, she turned as cold as ice, and her blue eyes would blaze with fury. She would hiss threats about taking up the discussion with the fool’s wife or girlfriend, and that was usually enough to cool the hottest guy’s ardor. Very few guys had the nerve to try it twice. Rita earned the nickname “The Ice Queen” from her multitude of unsuccessful suitors. Guys could only fantasize about what Rita would be like in bed … and most of them did. Leading the parade when it comes to Rita’s admirers, and would-be seducers, is Al Ross. Al is one of Derek’s oldest buddies, and has actually known Rita for longer than Derek has. He even dated Rita once but, despite his best efforts, got nothing more than a light peck on the cheek at the end of the night. She had left him with a massive erection that night, and he had had to jerk off as soon as he got home to give himself relief. Once Rita met Derek, it was all over for everybody else, including Al, but she was still his favorite fantasy. Al jerked himself off regularly, and Rita was always in his thoughts when he did so, imagining himself ramming into her elegant, naked body, spread-eagled on an imaginary bed, her long blonde hair spread out across the pillow. Al was always thinking of ways to try to get Rita into bed with him, so far with absolutely zero success. Al would have jerked himself off even harder if he knew more about Rita, because Rita had a secret, a secret that even her husband didn’t know about. Rita, the Ice Queen, was a borderline nymphomaniac! Rita was obsessed with sex. She fucked her husband at least once every day, more often if she was feeling particularly aggressive. During the day, when Derek was at work and she was alone in the house, she would undress, lie down on top of the bed, and ferociously masturbate until she had multiple orgasms and had drained herself completely of sexual energy. But the energy would always quickly return and soon she would be looking for further release. Masturbating two or three times a day was not uncommon for her. Rita, too, had a fantasy, and when she masturbated it was always the same one. Rita would fantasy, as her fingers plunged in and out of her dripping cunt, that she was being gang-banged by every one of Derek’s friends. In her mind, her thrusting fingers became a succession of stiff cocks, as a long line of naked men, their erections jutting out in front of them, shuffled slowly toward her bed, waiting for their turn to lie down between her wide-spread legs. The idea of a participating in a gang-bang fascinated and aroused Rita. She was certain that she would love to have, say, 10 guys take turns fucking her, filling her cunt with their cocks, then their cum. She was so certain that she would enjoy a gang-bang, that she was terrified about allowing even one other man to fuck her. She felt sure that, once she started, she would not be able to say “No” to anyone, and the floodgates would open. All those guys who had tried to get her into bed would never know how tempted she had been. If any of them had really persisted, she would probably have agreed to fuck him. But fear over her own reaction had always won over temptation, and she had scared them all off, every time. Opportunity doesn’t knock on a person’s door every day, and when it knocked on Al Ross’s door, he decided to grab it with both hands. Certain circumstances had arisen, and Al felt that he was finally going to have a good chance of fucking Rita. As he drove towards Rita’s house one day, shortly after lunch, he smiled with anticipation and was so confident of success that he announced loudly to no one in particular, “Today, Rita, you are going to get fucked by yours truly.” At the same time, Rita was just getting ready to go upstairs to her bedroom. She was feeling especially horny today and was really looking forward to a wonderful release through masturbation. Her menstrual period had finished just the previous evening, so she had not had sex and had not masturbated for about a week. As she thought about the exquisite pleasures she was about to enjoy, her heart beat faster and her cunt became wet with anticipation. Then the doorbell rang. “Shit!” thought Rita, “Your timing is lousy, whoever you are.” She walked quickly to the door, anxious to get rid of the caller as quickly as possible. She had a date with her fingers in the bedroom, and she didn’t want to keep herself waiting! She opened the door, and there stood Al Ross, smiling pleasantly. “Hi Rita” he announced cheerfully. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I would drop in for a visit. Have I come at a bad time?” Your timing is the shits, thought Rita, but said aloud “Hi Al. Come in, it’s good to see you.” As Al settled into a chair, Rita went into the kitchen and came back with a beer for him and a glass of wine for herself. They raised their glasses to each other in a silent toast, and both took a long sip of their drink. Al placed his glass on the table in front of him, and looked directly into Rita’s eyes. It was a warm day and she was wearing only tight shorts and a halter-top. She looked stunning. Al drew a deep breath. “I’m going to come right to the point, Rita. I’ve loved you for a long time, I think you know that, and I want to know what it would take for you and I to become lovers?” “Oh Al,” sighed Rita, “not that again. You’ve talked to me about this before, and my answer now is the same as always. The answer is ‘No’. I’m not interested in having sex with you, or anyone else except my husband. I’d throw you out of the house right now, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve been a good friend for a long time.” God, if you only knew what I really want to say, thought Rita. Of all Derek’s friends, Al Ross was the one she liked the most, and he was always the first man to penetrate her during her fantasy gang-bang. She had wanted him to fuck her at the end of their date, over three years ago, but she didn’t have know how to make the first move without appearing like a slut. With pounding heart, she realized that in her high state of sexual arousal today, she desperately wanted him to fuck her now, but the old fear about losing control of herself made her hesitate. Al was ready with his answer. He reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. In the envelope was a thick wad of bills. “There’s $5,000 here, and I want you to have it. If you let me make love to you, the money is yours, and I promise that I will never tell anyone about us for as long as I live.” Al reached over and gently placed his hands on her knees. The touch of his hands sent a small charge through Rita’s body. “Please say ‘Yes’ Rita, you’ll make me the happiest man alive.” Rita looked down at the money silently. She picked up the envelope and felt the nice heft to the wad. The bills were all brand new fifties, and she assumed that there were 100 of them. The extra money would be nice, and it would come in very handy. It was also a good excuse for her to say yes to Al, without revealing her real emotions. The truth was, she wanted to fuck him, and she needed to fuck him, in the worst way. Her pussy was getting wetter from the mere discussion about sex. Fingers are great, she concluded, but there is nothing to compare to a stiff cock. And she desperately needed a stiff cock right now. Her pussy twitched. She reached her decision. She stood up and held out her hand to Al. “All right Al, I agree. But if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll tear out your heart with my bare hands.” “Great!” Al said in delight as he stood beside her and took her offered hand. “I’ve given you my word, and I’ll keep it.” Upstairs in the bedroom, Rita and Al hastily pulled off each other’s clothes, and Rita stretched out on the bed like a cat. Her blonde hair spread out on the pillow, just as Al had often fantasized. In her nakedness, she was breathtakingly beautiful and for a second Al thought he was going to cum right then. Her tight breasts pointed straight up, and the nipples were already erect. She spread her legs invitingly, just a few inches. When Al saw the moisture glistening in the hair at the top of her legs he realized that Rita was highly aroused and he lay down on the bed beside her. Rita lowered her eyes and gazed at his stiff cock. “Let’s make the first fuck a quickie, then we can take our time for the rest of the afternoon,” she whispered. “Great idea, baby.” Al growled, and put both hands on the inside of her thighs and pushed them wide apart. He swung himself over her slender body, and positioned himself with his cock pointing directly at her wet pussy. She reached down between her legs with both hands and pulled her pussy lips apart, revealing a wide-open, dripping entrance to her cunt. He pushed his hips forward quickly, and his entire cock slid into her warmth without the slightest resistance. A long hiss escaped through Rita’s clenched teeth as she felt his hardness plunge deep into her body. She removed her hands from her pussy, and clamped them onto Al’s buttocks. She dug her long fingernails hard into his flesh and pulled him toward her. Al gasped with pain, but thrust his hips against the spread-eagled woman, driving his cock as deep into her body as possible. Neither of them could contain their arousal any longer, and Rita’s cunt muscles tightened as the orgasm that had been building for the past half-hour exploded through her. Al’s fantasies had come true. The most beautiful woman he had ever met was writhing and gasping in orgasmic pleasure under him, with his cock buried in her glorious body, and an orgasm roared over him as well. His throbbing cock squirted thick gobs of cum inside Rita’s receptive hole. The two gasping lovers thrust their bodies against each other furiously. It was two or three minutes before they recovered enough to even speak. “Well, Al Ross,” said Rita, with a sly smile, “you’re full of surprises. I reckon that was certainly worth $1,000. Only four more thousand to go, huh?” Guilt crept into Al’s mind. “Look, Rita, I’m sorry about the money. I think I’ve made a huge mistake.” “No mistake, lover. A deal’s a deal, and I’m going make sure you get your money’s worth.” Rita playfully pushed Al over onto his back. “Now, more action and less talk.” As Al lay back on the bed, the sheets already damp from Rita’s sweating body, the blonde woman turned herself around so that her feet were near Al’s head. She then swung her legs over top of the prostrate man and put herself into the classic ‘69’ position, her thighs straddling his face. He could feel her long blonde hair cascading over his naked thighs. She took his limp cock in her hand and looked back at him briefly. “Let’s see if your tongue can do what your cock just did. I want you to make me cum again.” It sounded more like an order than a request. Her pale, round buttocks were only inches away from his face. He could plainly see her tight butt-hole, nestled between the cheeks, a slight trace of blonde hair surrounding it. Even closer to his mouth was her open pussy, red and puffy from the fierce fucking, dripping with her own juices and Al’s cum. The blonde hair surrounding the pussy was thick and wiry, wet with sweat. Al pulled a pillow up under his head to stop his neck from getting sore, and just as he gave Rita’s pussy a first tentative lick, he felt his cock engulfed in the wet warmth of her mouth. In response, he licked her clit, and sucked the little nub into his mouth, pulling on it with his lips. She grunted and pushed her ass back against his face, burying his nose between her cheeks. He sucked harder on the clit and pushed his tongue into the sopping cunt. He brought both his arms from his side, and wrapped them around her hips. He pulled her pussy even harder against his face, at the same time bringing one of his hands around to let the fingers probe between her butt cheeks. The index finger probed her tight, puckered hole, and he felt Rita’s body twitch. Her hips did small circles on his face, and her ass pushed back gently against his finger. He brought the finger down quickly, and slipped it past his mouth and into her wet cunt. He felt her twitch again. He withdrew the now moistened finger, and returned it to the entrance to her butt. She clearly could feel what he was doing, and pushed back a little harder. He knew what she wanted, so he probed gently with his moist fingertip, and it slipped easily past her sphincter muscle, and into her ass. Rita grunted again and began moving her hips in a riding motion. With amazement, Al realized that she was on the verge of another orgasm already. He worked his lips and tongue against her cunt and pussy as hard as he could, and pushed the finger into her butt up to the first knuckle. With his free hand, he reached between their bodies, found one of her breasts, and rolled the nipple hard between his thumb and finger. She gave a muffled croak and began crushing her pussy against his face, riding it hard, so that Al could scarcely breathe. Simultaneously, she sucked fiercely on his cock, which had once again stiffened. Fluid gushed from her body, onto his face and into his mouth, a mixture of her own juices and his. Another orgasm powered over him, making him buck his hips hard upwards, shoving his cock into Rita’s mouth. She sucked the cum from his body, swallowing it greedily. After their writhing bodies had become still, Rita rolled off Al and lay beside him, her head on his shoulder, her hand stroking his chest. It had been the best sex, and the most powerful orgasms, she had ever experienced, and she was feeling very loving and tender toward her old boyfriend. “Wow!” she finally muttered quietly. “If I had known you had this kind of talent, I might have married you instead of Derek.” “Thanks, but Derek’s a good man, and it’s all water under the bridge now,” replied Al. “Besides, I think if I tried this too often I’d die of a heart attack. You’re pretty talented yourself.” She reached down and took his limp cock into her hand. She began to stroke it gently. “Your cock felt really good when it was inside me. You’re only the second man I’ve ever fucked, and it was exciting to have a different cock inside me for a change. I’ve sometimes wondered what my old boyfriend, Al Ross, would be like in bed, what it would feel like to have him fuck me. Now I don’t have to wonder any more … you feel great. Speaking of which, we’re wasting time. I want your cock inside me again, and it feels like it’s rising to the occasion.” Sure enough, my cock was stiffening again. The combination of her hands and her conversation had worked magic. Al was beginning to feel physically drained, but his cock was telling him that it was ready for yet another round. Rita reached into a bedside drawer and pulled out a tube of lubricating gel. She then positioned herself on her knees and elbows, her firm and curvy ass pointing invitingly upwards. Al wondered what had happened to “The Ice Queen”. There was nothing frigid about Rita … she was hot enough to bake bread! Rita turned her head around to look at him, and waved the tube of gel in her hand. “You might be needing this,” she smiled and winked. Al got onto his knees behind Rita and spread her legs apart. Her ass and pussy were wide open and completely vulnerable. Moisture was still oozing slowly from her well-fucked hole. Miraculously, his cock had stiffened up yet again. He was amazed at himself, and assumed that he was getting additional inspiration from this beautiful woman, who was beginning to seem sexually insatiable. His cock slid easily into her again, and he began to fuck her rhythmically as she arched her back, tightening the grip of her cunt on his cock. Her body moved back and forward, keeping time with his thrusts. He knew that this was going to be a long fuck, as he felt that he would be unable to come again. He had already deposited two steaming loads of cum into Rita, and the last time, he felt like she had sucked him dry. Al settled into an easy fucking routine. His glistening cock slid in and out, in and out, in and out as the minutes ticked by. The only sound in the room was the slap, slap, slap of his thighs on her buttocks. To change the pace, he hunched his body over the sweating woman, and reached under her with both hands. With his right hand he found her clit, and begun to pull on it gently. His left hand found her breast, and he pulled hard on the nipple. Rita broke the long silence. “Fuck me, Al. Fuck me hard.” She began to push back against him more urgently. Al was still not ready to cum, but he knew that the “Ice Queen” was on the brink once more. He increased the pressure on the clit and the nipple, pulling and twisting so hard he felt sure that he was hurting her. Rita pushed herself up off her elbows, onto her hands. She let out a strange cry, half sob half grunt, and rammed her ass hard back against Al’s thighs, and another climax surged through her arching body. She pounded against Al for a minute or so, then grabbed the tube of gel, flipping it back towards Al. “Fuck me in the ass, quick!’ she gasped between lunges. Breaking his rhythm slightly, Al picked up the gel and squirted a generous amount onto Rita’s tight, puckered butt-hole. He hadn’t come yet, so his cock was still stiff as he pulled it from Rita’s sopping cunt. He pulled her hips down slightly to improve the angle, put the tip of his cock right against the greased-up hole, and pushed forward firmly. His cock slid in two or three inches as another hiss escaped through the woman’s clenched teeth. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper,” she gasped and she pushed herself back against him. Al pushed forward as hard as he could and the remaining part of his cock disappeared into the stretched open hole, gel oozing out around his shaft. Their bodies were almost motionless as he reached under her again and began to rub her clit furiously. With his left hand he grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair, and pulled her head backwards, just as he began his fucking rhythm once more. Her ass was the tightest sensation he had ever felt, and he quickly came inside her, as she bucked and whimpered in a glorious mixture of ecstasy and pain, which drove her to her biggest orgasm yet. Tears ran down her cheeks and splashed onto the bed sheets as she and her lover rocked against each other, both overcome with desire. The exhausted lovers lay for a long time afterwards, too shattered to move or to speak. Eventually they both quietly got dressed, and Al prepared to leave. “Rita, I need to explain about the money,” he began. Rita put a finger to his lips, shushing him. “It’s been a wonderful afternoon, let’s not spoil it by talking about money. We’ll get together again soon. But I’m warning you, I expect you to be as good in bed next time as you were today.” She felt satisfied and complete, something she had never felt before. Today’s sex had been the best she had ever experienced. She knew that the two men in her life, Derek and now Al, would keep her sexually satisfied, and her fears of becoming sexually uncontrollable were gone forever. She felt good. Rita busied herself removing all traces of Al’s visit. She hid the envelope of money, put fresh sheets on the bed, and opened the windows to allow fresh air to blow away the heavy smell of sweat, sex, and cum. Finally she had a shower, and was looking fresh and radiant when Derek arrived home from work. After the usual greetings, Derek settled back into his favorite chair with a glass of Scotch. He looked around the room. “Did Al Ross drop in to see you today, Honey?” he asked. Rita was stunned at the question, and felt her face flush a little. “W-who? Al Ross, did you say?” she stammered. “Yeah, Al Ross, for Pete’s sake. What’s the matter with you? Did he drop in to see you today?” asked Derek again, a little impatiently. “No, he didn’t. Why would he? I haven’t seen Al for months.” Rita was panic-stricken. “That son-of-a-bitch.” muttered Derek in exasperation. “Before we were married, I lent him some money. I’ve been bugging him to pay me back. He told me that he would drop in this afternoon and give you the $5000 he owes me.”

Lan Zhan is in his kitchen, fixing an evening cup of green tea, when his phone buzzes twice in quick succession.   WWX: Hey WWX: Can I come over?   He nearly drops the whistling kettle in his rush to reply.   LZ: Of course. Please do.   — They have not spoken since the performance the previous night. No sooner had they caught their breath did someone in the crowd pull Wei Wuxian aside, much to Lan Zhan’s displeasure. He had hung around a few minutes, watching for trouble from a distance, but left after he saw Wei Wuxian smiling and chattering with his usual enthusiasm.   Lan Zhan had stayed away from the shop today, in order to finish some much-needed studying. His brother had come home after closing, an expression of grateful relief on his face, to tell him that they had exceeded their sales benchmark for the month. Cloud Recesses is safe, for now at least. But he suspects that Lan Xichen knows something is wrong, given Lan Zhan’s happy-but-hollow response to the good news. A week ago, this news would have felt heaven-sent. But there are other things troubling the waters of Lan Zhan’s mind. —   He’s knotting one hand in his hair almost hard enough to yank it out when there’s a knock at the door. The other hand holds a small parcel, wrapped in cloud-patterned tissue paper—an item he has been holding on to for weeks, waiting for the right moment, wondering if it will ever come. Gulping, he briefly considers climbing out the window to escape. Nevertheless, he turns the door handle, a slight tremble afflicting his usually steady hand.   Wei Wuxian looks as though he hasn’t slept, shadows ringing his eyes, face pale. They just stare at each other for a moment before Lan Zhan steps aside to allow him to enter. Without really thinking about it, he leads him up to the roof.   They sit, much as they did almost a month earlier. The view in front of them is the same, but so much between them is not.   Wei Wuxian speaks first.   “Lan Xichen called me,” he begins.   Nothing gets past my brother , Lan Zhan thinks, and almost rolls his eyes. Still, he’s relieved.   “I know why you gave up the audition now. And…Lan Zhan, I’m so sorry for how I snapped at you.” He stares at his hands.   “Wei Ying. No need to apologize.”   “Yes, I do. I misunderstood and I overreacted. I thought you were giving up your dream for me…or because of me. And I completely ignored that delicious espresso ice cream thing you made for me, which I loved , and which I want you to make for me every day until I die, and which we should definitely add to the menu,” he said.   Lan Zhan flushes at the idea of getting to make coffee for Wei Wuxian every day. But he doesn’t allow himself to hope he meant anything by that. Not yet.   “I have a new dream now,” Lan Zhan says. He lets the not-quite-a-confession hang in the air between them for a long moment, staring out at the horizon.   “I have a question for you, Lan Zhan.”   “Mn.”   “About the song, the last one we played.”   “Mn.”   “Did you write that?”   “Mn.”   “What was the inspiration?”   Oh.   He just freezes for a moment, not daring to look at the other man. He can’t lie to Wei Ying, but he also can’t tell him the truth without revealing everything. He chooses the comparatively safer third option, and gingerly hands him the tissue-paper wrapped parcel.   “Happy birthday, Wei Ying,” he says. Wei Wuxian’s face ignites into the first real smile since he arrived.   “You remembered! Wait. I definitely never told you. How did you know?” He giggles, gently punching him in the side. “Did you use your top-secret Batman computer database to pull all my confidential information? Find anything incriminating?”   Lan Zhan smiles again, relieved at the turn the conversation has taken. “Wen Qing told me.”   “Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, humor leaving his face, growing pale. “Did…she tell you anything else?”   Lan Zhan nods slowly. “She told me about the scholarship. I know what you did for your brother. And I will never tell a soul.”   To his surprise, Wei Wuxian lets out a breath and starts laughing, color returning.   “That’s all she told you? I mean, yeah, it’s a secret, and I don’t ever want A-Cheng to find out. But I was worried she might have-” He runs a hand through his hair, nervousness flitting across his face. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t believe you got me a present! I’m gonna open it right now.”   He tears into the tissue paper with the reckless abandon of a child on Christmas morning, tossing it behind him. His eyes widen, mouth falling open.   “Lan Zhan, this is…”   He holds a black mug with white bunnies dashing across it. From a distance, they would probably look like polka dots.   He looks at Lan Zhan with an unreadable expression. It’s like a mosaic of wonder, amusement, and perhaps fear. Lan Zhan’s heart skips a beat, wondering if he did something wrong. If he’s ruined everything.   From his reclining position, Wei Wuxian leans into Lan Zhan’s space until their faces are just inches apart.   “Lan Zhan,” he pauses, swallowing and taking a breath. His voice is almost a whisper. “What does this mean?”   He can’t deflect, he can’t lie. And that now-familiar invisible string knotted around his wrist, tethering him to Wei Ying, ensures he cannot run, either. He is terrified that the truth is written all over his face. That it has been since…he doesn’t even know when.   “Lan Zhan,” he says, louder now but with a barely perceptible shakiness. He hesitates, then pulls Lan Zhan’s hand into his own.   “The mug. The song you wrote. Your new dream. I need to know what it means. I need you to say it.”   Words have a habit of failing Lan Zhan at important moments. Fortunately for him, all of those questions have the same answer.   “Wei Ying.”   The distance between them dissolves, both closing it, and there is only the kiss, and the night, and a song flowing between them.

Ryan’s heart almost stopped when Akmazian walked through the infirmary door. It was what passed for the night shift on a space station; corridor lights dimmed and almost all patients asleep. Ryan was alone at the front desk as Jane and Dr Urvidian did the final rounds of the day. The infirmary was eerily quiet at this time, the busy bustle of staff and the concerned murmuring of visitors gone. The only people to come by now were people with medical emergencies and, well, Akmazian apparently. Ryan stood slightly, dropping his pen, wanting to rush towards the other man but unsure of whether he should. His heart seemed to stutter in his chest but whether that was the sudden reappearance of the supposed terrorist or the amount of caffeine he had drunk to get him through the midnight shift, was anyone’s guess. Akmazian stood awkwardly by the door, hands deep in his pockets as he bit his lip. He somehow looked more nervous than he had when Ryan last saw him, standing at the front of a courtroom waiting for the jury to give their judgement. Then he had stood tall, chin jutting out defiantly but here he seemed hesitant. The only similarity was how he actively seemed to be avoiding making eye contact with Ryan. “I- I didn't know you were coming,” Ryan stuttered out uncertainly. The words felt heavy on his tongue, weighed down by all the things he wanted to say but couldn't find the words for. It had been so long since he had spoken to Akmazian, he hadn't had the chance to since he had left Eos 10, since they had- “Papers went through faster than expected,” Akmazian said, his voice low and rough, “Bureaucracy, right?” Even in the washed-out light of the infirmary, Akmazian looked good, Ryan had to admit that to himself. It seemed even an alliance holding cell was better than an abandoned cargo bay, it seemed. He looked healthier, muscled instead of sallow, his eyes and hair brighter. It sent a pang of guilt as he took in the sight of the nervous-looking man in front of him. “I’m just dropping by,” Akmazian said quickly, “I’m won't stay for long– I just thought I should- I wanted to see you again- you and Jane and Dr Urvidian, that is.” Ryan’s stomach sank. He blinked rapidly and looked down at his papers, his fist tightening around the pen he held. It had been stupid to hope Akmazian would stay on Eos 10. After months of being hidden on the ship, it was only logical that he’d want to leave. No doubt he had friends to see after years of being a fugitive, maybe even family who he would want to visit now he had been proved innocent. “I see,” Ryan choked out, “I- it’s good to see you.” Even to his own ears, it sounded far too genuine. It was, of course. Akmazian gave a strained smile and poked at the infirmary floor with his shoe. The silence that hung between the two felt oppressive, unsaid things hovering in the dim light of the infirmary. Eventually, Akmazian spoke. “So, uh, Jane and Dr Urvidian around?” “Urvidian’s gone but Jane’s just doing last rounds,” Ryan replied hurriedly, “She should be back any minute if you want to wait.” “Nah. It's fine. Say hi to them from me,” Akmazian paused briefly, “I actually came to see you if I'm completely honest. I came to say thank you.” “Thank you?” Ryan said in confusion, “For what?” Akmazian gave a slight laugh, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “Seriously? For everything. For taking care of me, for supporting me, for risking your life to prove my innocence, for just- for being there. Thank you.” Ryan felt himself blushing and quickly glanced away from Akmazian’s intense gaze. “I was just doing my job.” Akmazian’s soft smile was obvious in his voice. “I think everything you did for me goes far beyond your job description, Dr Dalias. You've done things for me that I can never repay.” Ryan looked up at Akmazian who looked strangely wistful, “You don't need to. You're my friend.” Akmazian laughed quietly again but it sounded somehow hollow. “I'm very glad to have you as a friend then.” Ryan smiled at him but he imagined it looked as forced as it felt. “Well- it was nice of you to drop by- before you leave the station,” Ryan said after a long pause, desperate to fill up the space of unsaid things hovering in the air. Akmazian’s eyebrows shot up. “Leave the station?” he repeated, in a surprised tone, “I'm not planning on leaving Eos 10.” “You said you weren't staying!” Ryan exclaimed, a small note of hope rising in his chest. Akmazian rolled his eyes. “Okay, that was misleading. I meant staying in the infirmary. I'm off to see the Quartermaster about accommodation and from what I've heard that may take a while.” Ryan grimaced. “You have my condolences.” "Are you glad I'm staying?” Akmazian asked suddenly, his tone somewhere between flirty and deeply serious. Ryan paused briefly before nodding. “Of course, like I said - you're my friend. I want- I'm glad you're around.” “Just friends?” It was a question that didn't demand an answer, Akmazian sounding resigned. Ryan blinked in surprise, he opened his mouth to reply but the way Akmazian was looking at him took his breath away and left him speechless. “I have to ask,” Akmazian said as he brushed stray strands of hair away from his face, the apology clear in his tone and his wry smile; steady but sad, “When I left Eos 10, you said – you said kissing me was a promise. I – what exactly did you mean by that, Doctor?” “I-” Ryan began slowly, searching for the words as he twisted his hands in the scrubs he wore. Akmazian interrupted him. “I’m not- I ain’t expecting anything from you.” He gave a low laugh and crossed his arms, shifting awkwardly. “You’ve already given way more than I can ever repay you for. I just – I’d like some clarification. I thought about what you said- what happened– a lot over the past few weeks.” There was a long silence, Ryan glaring a hole through the faux-wood of the infirmary table, before Akmazian quietly added, “You kissed me.” “You kissed me first,” countered Ryan quickly, finally looking back up at the tall figure of the ex-supposed terrorist. Akmazian gave another of his wry smiles, the type that was filled with sadness. Ryan bit his lip at the sight. “Yup. That I did, Doctor Dalias.” “I thought I told you to call me Ryan.” Ryan stood slowly and began to make his way around the desk. Akmazian’s dark eyes watched him intently. “You might have done.” Ryan stopped barely a foot away from the other man and looked up at him, chin tilted defiantly. “Why did you come here now, instead of waiting till the morning?” he asked softly. “You know why,” Akmazian replied, raising an eyebrow. Ryan took that as his cue. Stepping forwards, he placed his hands on Akmazian’s shoulders and leant in, slowly enough that the other man could easily stop him. Akmazian did not. Instead, he let out a soft exhale and leant forwards slightly, meeting Ryan half-way. His hands rose to cradle Ryan’s face, tentative and unsure but quickly becoming more confident. Akmazian pulled Ryan forward, kissing him firmly. Ryan’s hands slipped round to the back of Akmazian’s neck, pulling him in closer, fingers tangling in the man’s dark hair. He pressed in closer, sighing slightly against the other man’s mouth. There was a muffled noise from behind them. The pair sprung apart, although Akmazian’s hand still rested gently on the doctor’s shoulder. Jane stood in the corridor’s entrance, her expression both excited and extremely self-satisfied. “I knew it,” she said, her grin growing steadily wider second by second, “Oh this is so great – wait till Levi hears, I told him but no, he didn’t believe me but now, guess what. Guess who’s right-” “Jane.” Ryan interrupted quickly, “Now isn’t the time. You can be smug as you want, but just- give us a minute?” “Oh! Right!” Jane flushed slightly and stepped back, “I’ll go – um- double check on Mrs Banks again. Oh yeah, Ryan, she’s been sick about three times, I really need you to look at that. I know it’s not a good moment but I think she might need different medicine- so, uh be quick? Please? It’s really, really gross.” Ryan sighed deeply. His hand was resting on Akmazian’s chest so he could feel it vibrate as the man chuckled. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” “Thank you so much,” Jane said in exaggerated relief, “No funny business, okay? Or I’ll tell Urvidian you’re getting it on during work hours.” She sent the pair a suggestive wink before flouncing out of sight, back to the patients. Ryan gave another sigh and rolled his eyes before turning back to Akmazian. “That sounds like something I should probably deal with,” he said with a dry grimace. “Yeah, I better get to the Quartermaster. I do need a place to crash after all,” Akmazian agreed, although neither made an attempt to move away. After a moment’s pause, Ryan reached up and quickly kissed Akmazian again. “Once you’re done, come back, alright?” he said. “Will do,” promised Akmazian, brushing his thumb gently along Ryan’s lips, “Now I’m free I can come and see you whenever I like. Which may be quite a lot, just to give you a fair warning.” Ryan smiled widely. “You know what? I like the sound of that.”

Severus was hunched over the High Table, his arms resting on either side of his plate of uneaten toast.  The angle of his body was so pitched that his dark hair had fallen on either side of his face effectively blocking out the rest of the hall from his scorn.  If it were scientifically possible, the condensation from Severus’ steaming form would have created a fogbank along the dais; there would be no mistaking his sour mood with such a visual.  Alas, his body language was having to do the work for him. Thankfully, it seemed to be a good enough orator as his peers had, so far, given him a wide berth. Which was just as well, Severus’ temperament was not suited for congeniality this morning.  Bloody fucking rounds with Filch… up at the arsecrack of dawn like usual… today is terrible and I very well hate everything. The scent of oranges momentarily floated over him as someone walked behind the table.  Severus felt his shoulders relax as he recognized the aroma. “What’s that sound?” Hermione asked as she pulled out her ladderback chair and sat down next to him.  A bowl of oatmeal topped with blueberries and a honey swirl appeared in front of her. “Is someone making tea?” “No,” came a gloating voice a few seats over.  “It’s just Severus hissing.” Severus’ head snapped up and he spat, “I do not--” before stopping himself abruptly because even he could hear the sibilation threatening to erupt.  He looked down the line of his peers and fixed Hooch with a glare.   “Oh, that look doesn’t work on me, boyo,” the Flying Instructor said with a genuine smile as she tipped her cup in his direction.  “We’ve been through too much together for you to scare me away.” “Damn crone,” Severus muttered under his breath as he reached for his own cup, swirling the dark liquid.  He covered his fond half-smile for the older woman by taking a drink. His shoulders relaxed another fraction as the coffee warmed him from the inside out.  The Elves aren’t breeding civets down there, are they?   Severus thought, referencing the famous Kopi Iuwak coffee, worth nearly two hundred galleons per bag, whose cherry-like beans were fermented by the digestive tract of an Asian weasel.  Rolanda’s voice carried down the table, “What was that, sonny?  You’d have to speak up for someone as old and infirm as me.” “Oh, stuff it, Rolanda,” Sprout scolded from the table’s left flank on the other side of McGonagall.  “The poor dear was up awfully late last night.” “What?” Hermione asked, finally entering the conversation after eating some of her breakfast.  Eagerly, she turned to Severus. “What were you doing last night? Do you have a new project?” The question of ‘May I assist?’ was unspoken but Severus heard it all the same; Hermione rarely passed on the opportunity to learn something new.  Highly aware of all the other eyes in the vicinity, he was careful to not show how much her enthusiasm had warmed him. Severus smiled crookedly at her when he answered, “No, I have no such thing.”  Although, perhaps I should orchestrate some long, drawn-out project if it would guarantee a moment alone with you... Hooch cackled, “He had rounds last night.” Hermione, who had turned to look at Hooch as she spoke, returned her gaze to Severus’ face.  She twisted her body closer to his, creating the illusion of a more intimate conversation in the public space of the Great Hall.  She asked low, “Rounds? I didn’t think you had--” “I switched,” Severus muttered back, his soft volume matching hers.  Dark eyes snagged on to ones the color of espresso. “Why did you do that?” Oh, damn.  He had to be careful here at the High Table.  A public declaration of affection had the potential to either spook Hermione into fleeing or drive her to reciprocate out of guilt.  He wasn’t going to put her on the spot like this. Severus couldn’t very well be truthful in front of all these witnesses anyway; they’d tease him mercilessly.  But Severus also wouldn’t lie. Hermione’s expression was morphing into one of concern and Severus knew he had to reply.  He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say when he started, “Hermione--” A woman’s voice suddenly rang out into the room, “Darling!” Simultaneously, Severus and Hermione broke eye contact and turned to see who had arrived at the front of the Hall.  But, just as quickly, they flinched when a booming, joyous voice on the left shouted a reply, “Oaty cakes!”   It escaped everyone else’s notice that Severus’ hands flew to Hermione’s forearms in alarm and that her fingers gripped his sleeves in kind.  The touch itself was fleeting, they grasped and released each other within seconds; but as Severus turned to locate the source of who had called out the term of endearment his palms tingled.  He had no time to analyze the mutual reaching for each other--the quick confirmation that the other was all right--as a grating screech of a moving chair pierced the silence of the room.  Hagrid had stood and the man looked as happy as if Norberta had just returned with an entire brood of grand-dragons and that his dreams of being a grandparent were finally realized.  Hagrid began waving his arms--Sprout was forced to lean sharply to the right to avoid being swat--as if he was directing a Muggle Concord Jet transporting a celebrity in for a landing.  Perhaps he was, to an extent, considering who was trotting to the High Table. Madam Rosmerta was weaving between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, carefully lifting her slim legs to step over discarded school bags.  She wore a form-fitting brown wool coat, high heeled tasseled boots, and a beret on top of her loose hair. Rosmerta gave small acknowledging waves to the older students who recognized her. But her large smile seemed to be reserved for only one person in the room.  Rosmerta sauntered up the short set of stairs and rushed around Sybill to Hagrid’s waiting arms.   The landlady squealed as Hagrid spun her; this time Sprout found it necessary to push her chair directly against Flitwick’s to get out of the way of the dangerously circling legs.  As Hagrid gently placed her back on the floor, Rosmerta exclaimed, “My big burly man!” “Well, shucks now,” Hagrid said, his entire face turning red.  Severus half expected steam to erupt out of the half-giant’s ears. Other than Pomona’s act of self-preservation in regards to not being kicked in the face, the rest of the staff at the table seemed shocked into silence as they watched the unexpected reunion.  Severus felt fortunate that his brain had begun working well enough again to sputter out a singular thought. What in the ever living hell is this?   Hagrid continued, “What are yer doing here? I was goin’ to come down this afternoon.” “I couldn’t wait that long,” Rosmerta cooed, sliding her hands down Hagrid’s front while wiggling against him. Minerva cleared her throat, being the first to recover, reminding the two-- Lovers? Severus thought incredulously--adults as to where they were.  Most pointedly, that they were center stage in a room of young children.  “Oh right,” Hagrid replied, patting his large hand on Rosmerta’s back.  “We need to set a good example for the students. None of all that, now...” Rosmerta giggled as she twirled to face Minerva, her coat fanning out around her.  She slid her hand down Hagrid’s chest to clasp his meaty hand with both of hers. As she leaned her frame against Hagrid’s side she asked formally, “Would it be alright, Headmistress, if I visited Rubeus for the day?” Severus wasn’t sure where to look.  Either the public display between the half-giant and the buxom village barmaid or the very pinched face of the Headmistress.  Damn, that pulsing vein is back.  I may need to slip her that Hypertonie Draught after all. “You’re both adults,” Minerva replied slowly.  “Hagrid is off duty today and therefore--” Rosmerta’s delighted squeal echoed around the chamber.  Hagrid’s blush returned two-fold. The woman began to pull Hagrid out the side door.  Before the pair had disappeared completely Minerva harshly reminded, “Remember the children!”  The door slammed and an elated “Oh, my squishy pickle!” was heard through the thick walls. Severus blinked at the door, completely at a loss for words.  The students nearest the High Table looked shocked and slightly sick.  One intrepid sixth-year--Henriksen, alcove rutter--wrote a hurried note in the margin of a book. “What - just - happened?” squeaked Flitwick.   A sharp clap interrupted any forthcoming response.  Immediately, an Elf appeared next to Minerva. “Headmistress called Tansy?” “Yes, after our Groundskeeper and his friend return to his home please do the following: cast a strong student repelling charm around the area of Hagrid’s hut.  A circumference of thirty feet should be enough.” Minerva paused and Severus felt her indignation rolling off her in waves.  “And a silencing charm. A strong one.” Tansy’s ears wiggled in a concerned manner as she took her orders.   Irma asked pointedly, “Can the staff be included in that repelling charm, Minerva?” Minerva rolled her eyes.  “Merlin’s pants, this has been a terrible February for this Castle’s occupants.”  With a nod to Tansy she said, “Make it so.” The Elf bowed low and disappeared with a soft pop. Hooch spoke up, her voice soft with shock, “Rosmerta told me last week that she had started seeing someone.  Someone whom she considered a friend before suddenly seeing him in a different light. I just didn’t expect… I didn’t….” she trailed off, her voice suddenly lost. “I don’t think anyone could have predicted that,” Minerva said as several heads swiveled to Trelawney at the end of the table. The Divination Professor was sitting at her customary place near the end of the table.  Besides Pomona, she had been closest to the amorous display. She was clutching her silverware tightly with white knuckles--a piece of banger still on her fork--and was staring ahead blankly.  Dumbfounded, Sybill’s voice carried across the dais, “It… it wasn’t in the tea leaves.” “You don’t really think they will require all those precautions, do you?” Sprout asked, her eyes wide and face pale. “I can’t risk having our students learn the complexities of the sexual experience from our Groundskeeper,” Minerva answered.  She threw her serviette over her half-eaten plate of breakfast. Standing, she said, “Now that I am thoroughly off my…” Her forehead vein pulsed menacingly.  “My toad-in-the-hole… I am going to do some very tedious paperwork away from any windows.” Casually dismissed, several of the professors--who shared similar feelings about being off their breakfasts--began to scatter to safer areas.  I suppose there’s marking to do... As she stood, Hermione looked over at Severus and said, “I was going to take a walk around the grounds, but I, um...  I love Hagrid, understand, but I would rather not…” She gestured vaguely in the air. “I think I’m going to go to the library instead.  Would you like to join me?” Severus didn’t think about a response for long at all, the answer was easy.  “Yes.”   ---   Severus deliberately slowed his gait as they walked to the Library.  He wasn’t in a rush to end their close proximity or forgo the opportunity to talk to Hermione privately.  Admittedly, the public display between Hagrid and Rosmerta had put him off from immediately revealing his feelings to the woman at his side.  The timing would be too suspicious, similar to the faux pas of a wayward beau proposing marriage at a wedding; he didn’t want her to think he was simply caught up in the sentimental moment and wasn’t genuine.    “That,” Hermione said, referencing what had just occurred in the Great Hall, “was….” “Horrifying?” Severus supplied.  They turned a corner in the corridor and their arms grazed briefly.  The contact reminded him of their flustered touch in the Great Hall. He had truly not been thinking when he reached out to her; the grasp was instinctual more than anything, a quick verification that things were as they should be--a reminder that even in a jarring moment they were safe.  Whether that reminder was meant for him or for Hermione, Severus wasn’t sure. And she touched you back, didn’t she?  The suspicion about the extent of her feelings grew, warming his chest. She breathed out a laugh, “I was going to say unexpected… and sort of nice, in a way.”  Hermione shrugged casually, swinging her arms. Severus felt his eyebrow raise on its own accord.  He deliberately kept the cynicism out of his voice when he replied, “Nice?” Hermione’s cheeks became pink.  “Well, yes. Hagrid is a dear old friend, and it is nice to see him so happy.  He has been awfully lonely since he fell out with Madame Maxime. But it’s specifically that he found someone who was…”  Hermione drifted off, her eyes sliding to the row of windows overlooking the Quidditch Pitch on their right. “Nevermind.” He felt a smile twist across his face.  There was something becoming about her sudden shyness.  “You have my morbid curiosity piqued, Granger.” “Well, just what Madam Hooch said, about how Hagrid and Rosmerta’s relationship evolved, so to speak…” “You mean,” Severus said carefully, remembering the shocked and stilted conversation at the High Table from earlier, “when she said Rosmerta had considered the pair of them friends first?”  Is this an invitation to discuss the possibilities between us or merely a coincidence?  They arrived at the staircase and Severus paused momentarily to step behind her, giving Hermione the railing.  He felt her absence at his side as she briefly hesitated on the landing before following him. Once she reached him mid-way up she said, “Yes exactly.  That the pair of them were friends before becoming… intimate.” Hermione turned away from him then, her cheeks becoming scarlet. Despite the lovely sight of a flush that highlighted the freckles across her nose and ran down past her ears onto her neck-- How long does it go on for? --Severus had to repress a gag.  The mental imagery of the sexual gymnastics and amount of lube required to make the logistics feasible between Rosmerta and Hagrid was enough to put Severus off from his next three meals.   Her soft voice gratefully broke him of the disturbing visuals, “Do you think that’s ever a good idea?  To be friends first?” Severus instantly grimaced, the dark memories of his broken friendship with Lily suddenly descending upon him like thick smoke.  His shoulders sagged under the weight of decades-long guilt. This isn’t the way I expected this conversation to go ... “I don’t have much success with that sort of thing…” he confessed quietly as they reached the first floor. The admission snuffed out the warm feelings that had been flourishing in his chest at Hermione’s proximity.  Instead, Severus was filled with a flood of insecurity. What makes me think that things would be any different this time?  One misstep from me and I would lose her friendship… it’s too risky.  Potter was right all those years ago. I am a coward.   Hermione gave him a sad smile, the corner of her mouth upturning slightly.  “No, neither do I.” She laughed hollowly, and her shoulders tensed. “Geographic barriers kept me from pursuing anything serious with Viktor, and Ron was always more like a brother to me.  I haven’t had many opportunities for relationships since.” She finished quickly as if to erase what she had just said, “Seems like it worked out for Hagrid though.” “Seems like.”  Severus felt the tightness in his voice, and he had to suppress the panic that felt like he was suffocating under his emotions of a long-dead woman.  No, no, no … he chided himself.    I did right by Lily by winning the War.  Hermione is not like her. She has never given me any indication that she would ostracize me if my feelings shifted from mere friendship and I later made a colossal fool of myself… she accepted Weasley back after he abandoned them in the woods…  she laughed when my snakes made a mess of things…  “Would… assuming, of course, that the person wasn’t an old love, so to say… would you ever be willing to pursue a relationship with someone who you consider a friend, again?  Like someone you’re friends with now?” her uncertain, low voice cut across his thoughts. Severus’ Slytherin sensibilities were suddenly on alert.  The question itself was one of extreme liberty taking; he had always considered himself to be a very private individual.  But if there was any validity to the evidence of her feelings for him--the touch over breakfast, the smiles that reached her eyes, the hand-delivery of the manchets, and the determined defending of his students--the question could be Hermione’s less than subtle way to ask if there was a chance for the two of them to be more than friends.  But that whisper of doubt, egged on by the preceding memories of Lily Potter née Evans, made his feet too heavy to cross the line.  Severus desperately wanted to be more than a friend to Hermione… but the fear of rejection was too great and he felt unable to take the blind leap of faith.  Anxiety spoke for him when he murmured, “Is this rhetorical or is there someone you already have in mind for me?” They rounded the last corner to the library.  Suddenly annoyed, Hermione threw up her hands before resting one on his bicep and hissed low, “Severus--” She stopped abruptly and her hand clutched at his sleeve, silently urging him to come to a halt.  In the middle of the corridor was a large, orange-furred mass. The animal’s squished face rounded to scowl at them, his yellow eyes glinting in the light.  He scrutinized the pair of them and based on his expression he didn’t like what he saw. “Crooks?” Hermione asked slowly.  “What are you doing out of our rooms?” Crookshanks twisted suddenly, hunched and then-- “Crooks, no!” Crookshanks began to undulate rapidly, his flat-face contorting.  A disturbing horking sound echoed around the corridor. He isn’t really going to… but Severus wasn’t able to finish his thought before the remains of a regurgitated field mouse--or what he chose to believe was a mouse--were thrown up in a pile of gooey spittle in the middle of the floor. “Oh Crooks… this is not proper behavior for in front of the library...” Hermione scolded as she stepped closer to her familiar. Brown and Marsh--third-years, proficient gobstone players--walked into the corridor from the same way Severus and Hermione had come.  Brown, who was behind his friend, warmly greeted his Potions Professor before running into Marsh’s back. “Good morning Professor Sna--Oi, what gives?”  Brown peeked around Marsh to see a very disgruntled over-sized cat whose owner was attempting to wrangle its withering, stubborn body into a cradle hold. The boy’s gaze fell to the floor and the smelly wad of vomit that currently rested on the flagstones.  Brown immediately bent at the waist and threw a hand over his mouth. He moaned low.   Marsh, understanding what was happening quicker than the adults, muttered “Oh no!”  He began to dig feverishly in his sleeve. “Brown, are you alright?” Hermione asked as she vanished Crookshanks’ mess. Embarrassed, Marsh said, “I must have left my wand in the Common Room.”  He began to pat Brown on the back, which unfortunately only made Brown audibly gag.  “Quick, Professor,” Marsh motioned to Severus, “he’s a sympathetic vomiter, he’s going to need a--” Suddenly, the situation’s perilousness became obvious and there was a real possibility that Severus was going to end up with bile splashed onto his shoes if he weren’t quick.   Alas, after rapidly scanning the hall, there wasn’t anything to transfigure into a bucket. Coming to the grim conclusion that there were no better alternatives, he gripped the bottom button of his frock coat and pulled it off.  Hermione gasped and Severus knew that he only had seconds to spell the fastener into a receptacle.   As soon as the button was made into a bucket Marsh yanked it out of Severus’ hands and placed it in front of Brown.  The boy quickly lost the entirety of his breakfast. Severus turned slightly to give him the illusion of privacy and caught Hermione’s gaze.  She looked thunderstruck, although he couldn’t fathom why. Her smile, upon realizing that he had turned to her, had brightened even further and it suddenly reignited the fondness in his chest.  Severus felt his stomach flip, and it had nothing to do with the gastrointestinal distress occurring to his left. Another student moved into the corridor behind him and hollered, “Hey, are you two coming to play gobstones or what?” Panicked, Marsh responded shrilly, “No!  Don’t come any nearer! It’ll happen to you too!” Novák--fourth-year, Quidditch Keeper--stepped up beside his classmates.  Disbelieving, he asked, “What are you talking about?” Only for it to be quickly followed by, “Oh gods, you were sick weren’t you--” and then clutched his stomach as the smells and sounds of regurgitation washed over him. Severus had to repress a sigh as he passed the bucket to Novák. “This is soon becoming a circular disaster,” Severus drawled.  “Time to get you all to the hospital wing.” He began to usher the students back down the corridor, the nauseating bucket-of-sick floating obediently to the side.  There was a sense of loss as he turned away from Hermione. Their conversation had been interrupted and now things felt like they had to continue to be left unsaid for just a little longer.  Perhaps I should have been more forthcoming… have I missed the opportunity to make my case altogether?   He turned before rounding the corner.  Hermione was still smiling. After a quick adjustment of her hands, jostling her hissing cat in the process, she gave him a small wave of goodbye.  Severus returned a half-smile and looked down at the feline. Maddeningly, the little bastard looked smug.

“It’s a shame I needed their help! But now you’re finished, All for One!” All Might roared, every word soaked in rage. “I’m going to smash everything you’ve built, once and for all!” Gran Torino zipped behind and around to Riot, who stood defiantly against the old man. Torino wasn’t going to lie, the sight of the silver brute put the fear of God into him, but he hadn’t gotten this old by hesitating or letting fear decide the course. “Two left, and everything’s cleared!” He shouted. “Tomura, I don’t want to die here!” Toga said fearfully, as Riot focused on the old man, the footfalls of the giant beast drawing closer and closer. All for One seemed rather unperturbed, three bone spike tendrils shooting from his fingers, as All Might dodged quickly, unimpressed by the weak attack, before noticing where they were heading. Right into Magne. They stabbed into her chest, as magnetic energy sparked from her finger tips and into the downed forms of Mister Compress, Spinner, Twice and X, a blue glow surrounding them, Riot swiped forward with his claw at Gran Torino, who tried to level a kick at the Symbiote’s face, but was tugged backwards. Riot stumbled, thinking it an attack, slamming his foot into the ground, and roaring in rage. He looked to Toga, to see a pinkish glow surrounding her, as she looked confused and startled. ‘I see. Time to bow out.’ He thought, retreating into Shigaraki’s body, the blue glow bursting free from the confines of the Symbiote. “Wait, you’re coming at me too fast!” Toga protested all too late as four bodies smacked into her and threw all five into the portal. “Wait...master! Not yet!” Shigaraki protested, as he struggled against both the magnetic force and Riot’s instance on a retreat. Finally, four silver tentacles shot out of Shigaraki’s back, pulling him in, as All For One’s tendrils deposited Magne within the portal, before whacking Gran Torino away and keeping him at a safe distance from Tomura’s retreat. The younger villain looked on in horror, reaching to him desperately. “Master, you still haven’t healed! Your body isn’t ready yet!” Shigaraki cried out desperately. “Please, I’m not ready…!” He was pulled in, Kurogiri’s body the last to ‘leave’, as All for One retracted his tendrils back into himself. “Tomura, you must continue to fight on!” He stated aloud, knowing his student would succeed where the first master of Evil had failed. He barely had time to think of something else to do or say, before All Might was back at him again, pulling back for a while haymaker. As he closed, the black liquid spewed from Gran Torino’s mouth, wrapping and slipping all around him, as All for One kneeled down slightly before All Might. “I only came to rescue Tomura,” He declared, as the black liquid tore open into reality, Torino’s head appearing from as All Might reached the height of his punch, too late to pull back now. “But if you want a bloody brawl, I’ll humor you.” As soon as the punch hit, a ripple went through Gran Torino’s body, the punch striking the side of his face and sounding a loud crack through the air, before the ripple burned back up through his body and back into the point of impact, blowing All Might’s arm almost out of the socket, and throwing back slightly in shock. “I’m sorry!” He called out through grinted teeth. He pulled his arm back, pain shooting from finger to shoulder, as he worried over whether his arm had snapped out of the socket. He could handle his own punches, but with the angle and positioning, that was almost too much. All for One threw Gran Torino aside, rising to his feet to begin another attack, before speaking again, his voice full of venom and hate. “Above all else, I detest you. There was a time when you went, dismantling my empire and taking out my comrades, left and right, with those fists of yours.” His muscles bunched up and coiled once more, another air strike prepared. “They named you Symbol of Peace, as you stood so tall atop our sacrifices! How was the view from ontop our broken bodies?” As he pulled forward to launch another Attack, All Might grabbed Gran Torino away, pulling him back, as he swung with his other hand, his left arm, striking the coiled limb head, “Detroit Smash!” echoing throughout the city. Such power and force picked up all around them, displaced air flying back into All for One, and into All Might’s arm like a hurricane. ‘Negating my attack was such force...’ All for One thought for a moment. “You’re using more power then I thought. Aren’t you worried? Heroes have so many things they must protect!” The air smashed through the streets and buildings, shattering every window, and throwing large chunks and even whole buildings into the air around them. Godzillo drew close, smashing both of his massive, pad-like feet into the ground, and bringing both arms up, as the displaced air smashed into him, buffeting him and causing him to list back and forth, but remained unmoving, a Mountain against the Great Winds, doing what he could to keep the attacks from damaging the city. “Shut up!” All Might finally snapped, his blue eyes burning with such rage, it caused even All for One to stop for the briefest of a second. “That’s what you do! You use people, you toy with them! Break them! You take advantage and twist them like tools! You sneer at them as they’re just trying to live happy lives!” He grabbed The Demon King’s left arm, crushing the forearm to powder, as All for One realized, all too late, that he couldn’t warp anyone to cover for him, and that his other arm wouldn’t be able to building up power in enough time to stop it. “I won’t forgive you!” He declared at the top of his lungs, with the force to shatter the heavens and shake the oceans. He drove his fist with all of his power and rage straight through the breathing mask, driving All for One down into the Earth and through his skull and into the ground below him. He breathed hard, wondering if that was it, that he had finally put a stop to the worst monster in the world of Quirks.The wet snap of flesh and bone sounded below him, as All for One’s head reformed just as quickly as All Might had thought he destroyed it. All for One released a grunt of pain, as his head almost completely reformed. “You’re getting awfully emotional, aren’t you All might?” All for One replied with a condescending tone of care. “I remember those words. In fact, they came from the previous user of One for All, word for word in fact. Nana Shimura, wasn’t it?”\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\Venom crashed through another wall of debris, seemingly sniffing the air for the scent of the other three. The symbiote still shuddered at how close they had come to fighting Shigaraki and Riot, but was grateful that they were at least away from his Team leader and his host. It still sent a thrill through him though, thinking of how he could finally stand up to Riot and declare his freedom to do as he liked. But for now, he focused on what was needed. Getting out of here and within a safe distance. Deku was muttering inside his head, something he had tried his best to ignore as they made their escape. “...And jeez, we came so close to having fight, we could’ve lost the baby, or been captured ourselves, and….” “Izuku.” Venom stated, trying to snap him out of the spell. “Can All Might beat him? He’s injured already, and that Villain Boss has so many Quirks...” He continued on, seemingly unaware of his Symbiote. “Izuku!” Venom snapped in annoyance, narrowing his eyes. “Sorry! What?” His host asked. “We are safe. The little one is still with us, we accomplished our goals.” Venom said confidently. “Cease your worry.” “But All Might…!” “Is the Number One hero, who has a giant monster now helping him.” Venom replied, jumping and swinging onto a segment of bricks that stood over the ruins, balancing a top it to overlook the ruined city. “We are fine.” Venom jumped onto the ground, landing on all fours, and moving across the ground like a hunting hound, his claws slicing through the rubble and all, before he stood and smashed shoulder-first into a broken down wall. He came to a stop, coming to a stop, eyes looking around in shock. Five dead riot officers. It was not surprising, given what they had seen. All for One could’ve easily slaughtered them, far easier then even lower ranked heroes. No, what was surprising, was these were fresh kills, and not the work of All for One. One cop’s head had been torn off, his body leaning against a wall, brutally cut off without a fresh, clean strike. Another was cast to the ground, his stomach completely carved up and open, while another one’s legs were brutally torn apart. Those with their faces left, even in death, their expressions frozen in utter terror and horror. Venom stopped right where he was, looking around in shock. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. “What in the hell is this?” Izuku asked in a panic, trying to look around this shattered area and broken bodies. “Be silent. Something worse is here.” Venom remarked quietly, hunching over, eyes focused as he slowly looked around to see if there was any sign of the attacker. The Symbiote stood unmoving for a moment, before he heard a loud step, crunching stone, wood and glass beneath it’s footfalls. The steps got closer and closer, thundering through the alleys and broken buildings, only a low grunt or growl sounding from whatever it was. Venom turned to the right, eyes narrowed as whatever approached stopped. It seemed to realize something else was here, as it released a low, rumbling growl. It sounded like the vocalizations of Riot or Venom when they were agitated or in battle, but there was something strange about this one. It sounded so different from the other two. The creature lumbered into sight, dragging another broken corpse in it’s wake. It was tall and brutish, covered in rippling black muscle, white Tron-like lines across it’s shoulders and abdomen, as well as it’s wrists and below it’s knees. White tumorous growths erupted from it’s wrists and legs. It’s reptilian mouth had no face, only a white circle in the center of it’s face. “Symbiote Detected. Not Designated Leader Riot, Shigaraki, All For One, or Doctor.” The strange Symbiote stated coldly, it’s voice like Venom’s, but with a robotic undertone. “Identify yourself.” “Who are you?” Venom demanded. “You will identify first.” The creature replied coldly. “You first!” “You will identify first.” The creature repeated without changing tone. “We will get the answers!” Venom growled, beginning to step forward, before remembering why exactly he couldn’t fight. And unlike Riot, he had no clue what this was and what it was capable of. They stood for several moments, staring at each other, as the mysterious black and white Symbiote watched him, seemingly barely reacting or caring to his outburst, before straightening. “Target will not identify. Objective: Destroy any surviving police, completed. Objective: Escape sightings from Heroes and Police, completed. Objective: Find Venom Symbiote, Incomplete.” The Being listed off, dropping the corpse, and turning to leave. “Finish last Objective: Return to Doctor.” The being turned and walked off without another word, disappearing from sight. Venom was almost shocked that it couldn’t recognize one of it’s own, before slowly realizing something. Izuku managed to vocalized exactly what both were thinking. “Is that...is that an artificial Symbiote?” He asked, voice quivering. “Did...did All for One create that one too?” “Bakugou and the others are nearby, let’s go to them.” Venom replied simply, not wanting to even think about where that thing had come from, bounding off in another direction. Venom smashed through another wall of debris, skidding to a stop as he saw a group of evacuated civilians and police escorting them away. Spotting Bakugou and the group in the middle of the group of evacuees, Venom morphed into cloths again, before shooting out a tendril and lowering themselves down, Izuku melting into the crowds, as Venom lead him right to the group. They almost didn’t notice him, so focused ahead where they, until Tenya looked to the side, and almost jumped in shock. “Midoriya! You’re alright!” He said in surprise, almost stopping to envelop him in a hug, before remembering where he was. “I was so worried when that thing got it’s tentacles on you!” “Yeah, how’d you get outta there without fighting?” Kirishima asked. “He was distracted for a moment, so we got outta there.” Izuku replied, omitting the fact that Riot had a deeply personal reason for wanting them. But, since his friends didn’t ask, he wouldn’t say. “I’m surprised he’d have a Quirk so similar to yours, but his master must have given such a thing at some point.” Tenya remarked, tapping his chin slightly, as he made a small chopping motion towards the safer areas of the city. “Yeah, a Quirk. Right.” Bakugou remarked softly to himself, almost out of earshot. They entered another district, now largely safe and out of harm’s wave, before Izuku’s phone rang. He quickly grabbed it and checked the number. Todoroki. He quickly clicked it on, and held it to his ear. “Midoriya, you guys alright?” Shoto asked quickly. “Yeah, we made it, all of us. What about you guys?” Izuku answered with a nod. “We sneaked behind the villains and slipped into an Evac-zone with some Pros.” Shoto explained, before shifting to another topic. “I saw the Shigaraki guy grab you, with a Quirk like Venom? You got away though, I’m assuming.” “Yeah, he got distracted.” Izuku answered. “Because he’s a dickhead!” Venom declared in his ear, his usual bravado returning. “Once we’re done here, we need to find him and kick him in the face, tell him to go eat shit and….” Izuku put the phone down, covering the receiver with his other hand. “Venom, adults are talking!” “Anyway, we got Bakugou near a station, outta the range of the shockwaves.” Izuku stated. “Rescue successful!” Kirishima successful. Bakugou gave him a foul snarl, baring his teeth in rage. “Listen, it’s not like you rescued me or anything, okay? I just had to take the easiest option!” “Yeah, okay buddy!” Kirishima laughed, giving him a thumbs up. Bakugou’s expression and tone softened. “That, and...I didn’t want to get in All Might’s way again.” Overhead, flew numerous News helicopters, flying overhead, the roar of their fan blades echoing ominously over the city. It was just a grim reminder that far more was at stake then just Bakugou, and far more bloodshed was bound to occur before the night ended. ‘Right, him, Nakajima-Sensei and, some guy named Gran Torino.’ Izuku thought darkly. ‘They’re the best, but I don’t know if even they’ll be enough.’ “Can’t Nakajima just step on him?” Venom asked bluntly. “Big size difference and all.” “I’m not sure it’s that easy.” Izuku muttered aloud, looking at his shoulder as though Venom was there.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\“Ah yes, it is Nana Shimura, correct?” All for One taunted with a chuckle, even as All Might’s knuckle dug into his forehead. “I’ve killed so many other One for All users.” “I don’t want to hear her name from your filthy mouth!” All Might roared in rage. “She was so pathetic. Putting her ideals forward without the power to back them up. It was embarrassing for me, the father of One for All, to see it play out,” He continued without a care in the world. “And then died such an unseemly death.” “Enough!” All Might roared in rage, pulling back for another punch, before All for One’s right hand shot up and fired a blast of compressed air, launching him into the skies. Gran Torino moved, darting throughout the ruins, before shooting up and grabbing All Might’s body, almost prone, as Godzillo roared and charged straight at All for One. The villain stood, coughing and taking several wheezing breaths, reattached some of the pipes into his mask, before, a gigantic scaled fist almost collided with his body. The Villain leader swung his left hand forward, smacking into his central clawed finger, the two struggling against each other. Nakajima’s eyes widened slightly in shock, releasing a short grunt. All for One said nothing for a moment, surprised at how much power what he originally had thought was just a movie star could have. It appeared the size wasn’t just for show. “Daisuke Nakajima, the Third User of the Toho Quirk. How impressive.” He said with mock praise. “You dealt with my minion, Wolfram and his gang with such ferocity. You seem to always want to get in between myself and All Might’s little tussle.” The Monster King growled in response, before All for One side stepped his punch, letting him stumble forward, before releasing a concentrated air blast into his chest, with much more force and power behind it. Godzillo released a surprised yell, knocked backwards. All for One pushed beneath, propelling himself into the air, eye level with the Monster Hero now. “Such an interesting Quirk, many facets and abilities stock-pilled together.” All for One remarked softly to himself, as Godzillo regained his footing, glaring at him with burning red eyes. “I almost wonder if there’s a secret to it like with dear All Might’s.” With a purpose grimace and terrible sound, his fins, from the back of his neck to the tip of his tail, flashed blue, as he tried to swat him aside with the back of his right hand. All for One jumped a little further, landing on his fingers, and jumping away again, before reaching into his inner suit pocket. “I could use such power at my fingertips, or create such a wonderful Nomu from it,” He remarked, taking a heavy breath. “But it’s far too chaotic and random for my tastes. But even under my control, I’ll have killed less then your family of outcasts.” Godzillo was about to lash out in rage, before he pulled out a gun, Nakajima recoiling in surprise, before All for One aimed and fired. Godzillo could barely believe he was using a gun now, before the bullet slammed into his right eye. The Monster hero stumbled back, roaring in pain and shock. His fins flickered, blue and white flashes, like a lightbulb struggling to stay on, as blood ran from his eyes. He couldn’t figure it out at first, but soon it came to him as his eye closed tight over the wound. A bullet. All for One, with all of his power, had resorted to guns to deal with him. “Such an unseemly thing, using guns, but I had little choice. I couldn’t get my hands on an anti-nuclear Quirk in time,” All for One remarked. “You require radiation, either sunlight and geothermal, converted within your body, or raw energy from generators and such.” “These bullets mix cadmium and Anti-Nuclear bacteria. With it coursing in your blood, you’ll be essentially Quirkless for a time.” He continued with a chuckle. “And without fresh sunlight, I doubt you’ll get in the way.” Godzillo fell to one knee, struggling to breath, as he felt his power quickly drain from him. His body began to shrink and drop away. He grunted, soon half his original height. To get such a mixture of elements...who was this guy? All for One lifted his hand again, arm rippling with built up energy, before he fired another air blast into the King’s face, knocking him end over end. Gran Torino stopped ontop of some rumble, holding All Might close at hand. “Listen, this is just like six years ago. Let him get under your skin, dance to his tune, and you’ll end up with worse then that hole in your gut, understand?’ “Right.” All Might muttered. “You haven’t reached your limit yet, have you?” Torino asked worriedly. “No. I have a few more minutes left in me, as long as I don’t overextend myself.” All Might replied, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Then keep at it, and push beyond if you have to.” Godzillo landed in a pile, as All for One landed again, tossing the gun aside. “Your attack dog is down All Might. No more hiding behind others. You’re just going to make your death more pathetic then Shimura’s.” He began to step forward, before turning quickly, as Godzillo tried to slam into him once more. All for One grunted with surprise that he was still able to stay awake, much less fight. Even at largely the same size as All Might and himself, Godzillo was still trying to put up a fight against the Demon King. All for One almost would’ve been impressed if this wasn’t getting under his skin. A clawed hand swung at his face, All for One grabbing it quickly, before blocking the other hand’s strike, the two pushing against each other for several minutes. “You truly are quite a nuisance, Godzillo.” All for One stated, giving an annoyed sigh. “Good...it’s the...family business.” He struggled, smiling broadly, despite the pain shooting through his eye and into his veins., making it feel like his blood was freezing cell-by-cell. “And I’ve...faced the….Golden Demise. A guy in….a cheap suit’s…..nothing compared to that.” He suddenly lunged forward, like a striking serpent, sinking his dagger-like fangs into All for One’s left shoulder, slicing through muscle and flesh like they weren’t even there. All for One briefly grunted in pain, before releasing his right hand, and swinging his fingers forward, jamming them into Godzillo’s damaged eye, and sinking in. Godzillo stayed for as long as he could, even as the Keloid-like scales began to fade from his body. All for One dug in further, before the Monster Hero released his shoulder, reeling back and yelling in pain. “My favorite Valentino suit.” All for One remarked in annoyance, as dark blood ran from his wounds, more like oil then blood. “You’ve accomplished very little, other then wasting my time.” He pointed out with his fingers, as the black and red rivets shot out once more, six of them slamming and piercing through Nakajima’s chest and stomach, and shooting out the other side. He coughed up blood in shock and pain, eyes widening in agony. “Nakajima!” All Might shouted in surprise, as All for One tore the tendrils out, tossing Godzillo aside, as he turned to All Might. “Now, for our feud. Not anyone else’s.” All for One declared, sounding slightly offended by the distractions All Might was putting in his way. “Keep your pets on their leashes, All Might.” The wounds rapidly sealed themselves up, leaving nothing but some white scar-like tissue in their wake. New Helicopters circled overhead, now filming everything, giving everyone live coverage of everything going down. From across the country, everyone could only watch in horror as a Villain who could match blows with All Might, stood mostly unscratched by the efforts for the Number 1 and several of the other trusted heroes. “And now they gather to see your last performance All Might!” All for One declared theatrically, spreading his arms wide to his sides. “Tomura has worked so hard to erode trust you and your kind, I feel almost sorry that I have to be the one to finish his work!” He readjusted parts of the mask, sighing in disgust. “You know All Might, you may despise me, but I think I hate you more. While it’s true I took your precious master from you, you’ve taken everything from me that I’ve worked so hard to build.” “That’s why I’m planning a most ugly, humiliating death for you and your little gang of rabble here today.” He remarked, as his left arm once more bunched up and built up energy for another attack. “A big one’s coming, prepare to dodge!” Gran Torino warned, preparing to move, as All Might nodded to him. “Dodge? Can you really afford to do that?” All for One asked innocently, as All Might glanced behind him, noticing a women crawling out of the rubble. With barely a second to think, another blast whipped through the area, Gran Torino shooting out of the way, as All Might slammed a foot foreward, and swung outwards, punching with everything he had, as the compressed air shot out all around him, tearing through the ground and buildings around him, as Gran Torino was almost thrown into the rubble again. The attack cleared after a moment, All Might breathing hard, coughing up blood for a moment, before taking a deep breath and refocusing. “My, my, I’m surprised, you haven’t hit your limit yet?” All for One taunted. “How is this so? If you passed it on, the Quirk should be embers inside you by now...” All Might merely glared at him in reply, refocusing himself and saving his energy for when he could get close and launch another attack. He wouldn’t rise to his words. All for One, however, wasn’t going to let his silence detour him from his continued taunting. “You truly are arrogant All Might! Even coming close to death during our first meeting, and you decided to ‘keep’ that Quirk? What did you hope to accomplish? To die and take it with you?” “Why do you resort to vocal jabs and taunts like a schoolyard bully so much, All for One?” All Might asked gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him. “Not ready to face justice yet?” “You came so close to death last time, and you think you’ll walk away?” All for One remarked with a rough, cold laugh. “Oh, you are a strong one, but as far as last users of One for All go, you aren’t what I had in mind for ‘Last Bearer’.” “It doesn’t matter what words you throw at me, or what attacks you choose!” All Might yelled in triumph. “I am the Symbol of Peace and the Pillar of this Society! I may not have a successor yet, but you will not defeat me! I will defeat you again, and give this strength to the next generation!” “I see. I’ve forgotten how stubborn you can be.” All for One replied with a small shrug. “I guess I’ll just have to give up then?” All Might jumped at him once more, crossing his arms before him, preparing for another attack. All for One fired off the rivets from his fingers, hoping to impale him before he could launch his attack, only for All Might swing his arms outwards, smashing aside the red and black tendrils, and sending a blast of air of his own that knocked back All for One in surprise. The Masked villain stumbled back. Even without being struck, the attack was all too surprising. As he tried to regain his footing, All Might was on the villain, swinging back and throwing a powerful left uppercut into his stomach, a powerful blast sounding from the impact, as All for One went flying back several, smashing through a pile of bricks and twisted metal. All Might stood for a moment, breathing hard, expecting to have some time before All for One could launch another attack, before another concentrated blast shot out and hit him head on, sending him back for a few feet. All Might stood off from the attack, steam burning off his body, breathing hard. He had put up a good fight, gotten in some hard blows, but this was not getting easier. All for One seemed desperate to soften him up as much as possible. With everyone watching, he couldn’t afford to released, even for a moment. All for One coughed, wheezing for a moment, as he caught his breath, his mask filtering the air once more, as he stood up once more. “Such power from dying man. It’s almost inspirational.” “Even without it, I would still be the Symbol of Peace!” All Might declared, as he felt the seconds tic by for him to remain in this form. “I am here, because of my spirit, not my strength.” “You sound like you’re beginning to cope with your soon to-be-lost power.” All for One observed, seemingly preparing for another attack, before suddenly stopping, and lifting up a finger. “Oh, but speaking of spirit and One for All, I almost forgot something.” All Might watched him carefully for a moment, as All for One let the tension sit in the air for a moment, before speaking again, the malice and joy heavy within his voice. “Tomura Shigaraki, my successor and student? He’s Nana Shimura’s Grandson.” A terrible silence fell over the entire battlefield, the raging fires, the Helicopters overhead, everything around them silent and a void, as All Might stared at the Villain leader in disbelief for several moments, his air caught in his throat. Without even realizing it, he released his muscle form, shriveling down again. Not since his first fight with this Demon King had he felt like his stomach had been torn out, and his heart torn from his chest now. Had he misheard? Had he somehow mistake All for One’s words? Was he lying somehow? “Ah, where was that spirit and pride?” All for One remarked, as All Might shuddered in horror. “You’re...you’re lying!” All Might declared, unbelieving the horror before him. “You know it’s true, because it’s something only I would do.” All for One replied pointedly. The News cameras focused on All Might, everyone shocked and horrified by what they were seeing. “A villain who bested several top grade Heroes, is trading blows with All Might...and he’s...he’s all shriveled up!” Everyone in the crowds around Izuku and the rest watched in silent shock, as a similar eerie silence fell over most of the households watching across the country. It wasn’t right, it didn’t seem real, like something out of a nightmare or a cruel joke. The Symbol of Peace, all skin and bones now, before one of the most powerful and cruel villains in the world. “His secret...” Izuku whimpered to himself within the shell-shocked crowd. Bakugou’s heart dropped like a stone, as the others looked on shock. For all the years he had watched All Might, admired him, sought to emulate his victories and power, he had never believed for a moment that something like this could be possible. All for One merely chuckled, gesturing to All Might like he was a specimen at a museum. “Hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, and a broken spirit. To think you’re their greatest champion. Try not to be ashamed.” All Might looked in horror, shaking from the blow of his words, as he let out a cry of broken horror. “See, I intended for you two to meet, but it could never happen. First with the Symbiote-child getting in the way, and then, injuries Tomura took,” All for One said with a shrug. “And every time he lost, not even coming close, it stoked the fires of hate deep in his heart. That hatred, towards you.” “How...dare...you?” All Might asked, his voice low and shaken, his face pale and completely shattered. “I thought you and Nana Shimura were all smiles, even in the face of death?” All for One asked, tugging at the corners of his mouth with his thumbs. “I guess such pleasant facades are there to hide your own weakness.” The woman behind whimpered, snapping out of his depressed stupor. “All...All Might? You can help us right?” The crowds around Izuku and the rest shuddered and shook nervously, before someone called out finally. “All Might’s never lost a fight. He can’t lose now!” Slowly but surely, cheers began to build in the crowd, one after another calling out to him, their confidence and strengthen growing as they remember what All Might was to them. Not the larger then life figure who could withstand anything, but the Hero who could help any person, stop any crime, and cared for every person he helped no matter what happened. “He’s skin and bones, but he’s still our All Might!” “He always wins, no matter the odds!” “He’ll always stand up for us!” These and many more yells and calls broke form the crowd, as hearts soared and spirits rose in triumph. The crowd roared for All Might, cheering and yelling his name, as Izuku and Bakugou looked to the screen, each coming to the same idea within their own head. “Come on All Might!” They both shouted to him, joining the cheers of the crowds. All Might could not hear them from here, but he knew one thing. No matter what All for One did, he couldn’t himself fall or buckle before this figure, even if he was the worst villain. “Not to worry Young Lady!” All Might stated, gold lightning sparking and pulsing through his body, as he bulked up again. Pain ran through him, his body not ready to start again, but he grinned in spite of it all, glaring head on at All for One. “We heroes have too much on the line, too much to look out for! That’s why, All for One, I. WILL. NOT. LOSE.” “So much bluster and air before the inevitable.” All for One replied, nonplussed by his declaration. He had heard that same type of rhetoric throughout his years. This was nothing new. “Let’s see if all your touting and words can measure up!” All Might could still feel his body shaking. Even if One for All was still burning in his body, his injuries and prior battles were catching up with him. Every inch of bone and fiber of muscle screamed in agony, as steam and smoke burned off his frame. But he had made his promise to stand before the Master of Puppets, and he would not be tossed aside or give up so easily. All for One rose into the air once more, preparing another attack. “Let’s both do our best, eh All Might? One final blow, for all the world to see!” He seemed to build up to something, before a blast of white hot flames shot towards him. All for One barely had time to react, firing an airblast and dispersing the flames with a concentrated shot before they could touch him. “More interference.” He remarked tired, as Endeavor and Edgeshot climbed over the ruins. Endeavor’s eyes were wide with hate and rage. “All Might, what’s wrong with you?!” “They were all Mid-Levels, but even so, it’s quite impressive you cleared through my Nomu so quickly.” All for One remarked. “You’ve done adequately enough, Endeavor, to be Number 2.” All Might looked to the other Hero in surprise and concern over his choice to yell at him now. Something else was in his eyes and voice. Not just rage and the usual white-hot hate Endeavor expressed in battle. ‘Everything I tried to be, how I sought to be better then you, even as the gap widened and widened until I couldn’t cross it.’ Endeavor thought, firing a second blast in All for One’s direction. ‘What that lead me too….’ He swallowed down his loathing, as he fired another blast at the villain, who dispersed it with but a gestured. “Explain that form! What are you really, All Might!?” “If you’ve come to cheer him on, then I suggest you be good audience members and sit down and be silent.” All for One remarked, preparing another attack against Endeavor, black and red lightning crackling and blasting off his wrist as he charged up, before tilting his head backwards to avoid an attack by Edgeshot. “We’re not here to cheer him on,” Edgeshot declared, winding around for another strike. “We’re here to help bring an end to you.” All Might looked around in surprise, the other Heroes here now, Kamui Woods wrapping his vines around Mt. Lady, Best Jeanist, Gang Orca and Godzillo, carrying them to safety, as Tiger wrapped his arm around the women behind All Might and carefully pulled her to safety. “If this is all we can do, we’ll do it! Anything to ease your burden!” Tiger declared. “No matter how you look, you’re our Number 1, it’s your spirit we follow to the end!” Kamui declared, as he escorted the wounded from the battlefield. “No matter what happens, everyone’s resting their hopes on your victory.” Gran Torino watched it all, too injured to interfere now, thinking back to when Nana Shimura had come to him with the idea of giving such a Quirk to Toshinori Yagi, then a young and impulsive kid, with big dreams but not the power to make them real. He couldn’t have believed then that this dumb kid could stand before the greatest evil in the world, and protect everything and everyone from this threat. Toshinori could the blood burning in his veins, as he nodded to his comrades, Edgeshot and Endeavor continuing their attacks, hoping to keep him busy long enough to buy the rescue teams and All Might enough time to make their move. All for One, however, merely chuckled in contempt at them. “Oh please.” He replied, black lightning bursting forth from his body, building up and sending a loud hiss through the air. A moment later, another massive shock wave, like the one that had first destroyed the Nomu Hangar, sending Edgeshot and Endeavor flying back and away like paper caught in a hurricane. All Might gritted his teeth, blood spitting up from his throat, shooting out form his wounds as he held off the massive wave of energy, barely staying on his feet. All for One kept floating, turning back to All Might. “Oh yes, ‘spirit’ this, ‘hope’ that, get with reality!” He declared, his right arm bulging and bulking up, tearing through what remained of his suit sleeves. All Might and those conscious Heroes that remained watched in disgust as bone and flesh morphed and twisted around, crowds from one end of Japan to another struck silent by the sight of All for One’s putrid arm twisting and morphing itself before their very eyes. “Spring-like limbs, Kinetic boosters Times 4, Strength Enhancer times 3, Limb Multiplier, Hypertrophy, Rivets, Air Walk, Spear-like bones,” All for One listed off his stored, as his right arm bulged into an inhuman side, drill-like bone tips shooting out, the man hand the size of a car’s front-end, the limb supported by numerous smaller limbs and other bone-like growths across it’s knuckles and back. “The shockwaves and airblasts from before were just to soften you up, peppering you with weaker attacks, so I could prepare for my final move.” His massive fingers bent and straightened for a moment, before creating a fist with it. “To kill you, and smash you and your arrogant image, I’ll crash down on you with my ultimate Quirk combination All Might!” ‘Trading blows with you was enough for me to realize you haven’t passed on the Quirk. Which will make everything all the better for me.’ All for One thought with a grin beneath his mask. ‘I’ll turn you into a smear, and retake that which was rightfully mine.’ All for One zoomed at All Might like a bomb, pulling back his disgusting, deformed limb for the ultimate hit. “So All Might, who did you plan to pass that Quirk of yours onto before your untimely end?” All for One taunted as he closed in for the attack. “Katsuki Bakugou, certainly has fire. Perhaps Endeavor’s own little science project? Or perhaps...you really were thinking of that alien infected brat, Izuku Midoriya? Were you that desperate to pass it own, I wonder?” All Might stepped forward, pulling back his own right arm, as he breathed in hard, preparing for the inevitable. This was going to be like no punch he had sustained before. All for One had prepared himself well for this second confrontation. The punches collided, energy exploding outwards in every direction, any buildings near the crater created in their brawl were level from the impact and force of the blasts, as the two struggled against each other for a moment, All Might putting everything he had into the blow to try and break back the punch. Bones and plating upon All for One’s knuckles shattered and broken, as his eyebrow rose in surprise. The Impact Recoil Quirk activated with a sharp whine through the air, the force of All for One’s punch, combined all the power All Might had put into the final strike. “You may see my lack of a Successor just yet as weakness, and maybe that’s so.” All Might answered through his teeth, swallowing hard to keep his blood building in his throat down, as skin and muscle fibers split within his arm from the force of everything hitting him. “But you’re facing a man who still has everything to give, and everything to lose!” He could hear the words of his master, the words he clung to at his lowest, in his worst fights, even after taking the worst blows, or being at his lowest. To push on, past even his own limits, and face whatever Villains stood before him with a smile. He suddenly pulled his arm away, letting it go slack, as All for One’s mighty punch rolled past his shoulder. All for One lurched in surprise. If he still had eyes or anyway to express his disgust, his face would curled in an expression of apathy and disdain. ‘To think you would still struggle after all this, make your death all the more unseemly….I’ve miscalculated.’ All Might stepped forward, clenching his left fist, as he turned and swung with all his might, smashing through the spear-like bones and masses of muscle in his way, and crashing into the side of All for One’s face and mask, smashing the machines that remained away form his mouth as he stumbled back in surprise. “Petty tricks, what a surprise from you.” All for One remarked, sounding slightly impressed, even through the horrific pain that rang through his jaws and face. “Whose influence is this now?” He swung his monolithic limb backwards, smashing aside All Might with a single blow, ribs and hip bones breaking instantly from the attack, and sending the Number One falling onto the ground. It had been slow enough, but his energy, his time limit was more then up for him. It was taking all he had to stand and punch. He couldn’t hope to dodge such an attack in time. Before he could rise again, rivets shot from All For One’s three fingers, and struck two into All Might’s chest, one into his thigh. The Number 1 barely reacted to the attacks, as All for One re-positioned himself for the next attack “Still too weak!” He declared with a twisted smile, before pulling them back out. Blood burst from the wounds, as All Might rose to his feet. In spite of it all, he still wore the usual cocky, confident smile that he always did. “Because my back wasn’t into it!” All Might declared, as he charged once more into the fray. All for One’s inhuman limb swung forward once more, barreling towards the Number 1 hero like a freight train once more. All Might barely got out of the way, his left skimmed by the blow, twisting it out of shape, skin stripped from it, before he pulled back his right arm, yellow electricity burning off his entire body as he pulled back. All for One’s other arm bunched up, as he prepared for another air attack to try and blast him away. It was hard to read his expression, but for once, All Might could see the bare traces and signs of terror and surprise in his face for once in his life. There was no time to counter and reposition now. He had had his chance before, and now it was gone. ‘This brawl ends.’ He thought darkly, as the energy burst to life through All Might’s body, his right’s arm’s injuries and wounds sealing up, bones snapping back into position. ‘But...’ “UNITED STATES!” All Might roared at the top of the his lungs, those words carrying throughout Kamino, echoing in All for One's ears like the threat of an enraged God. “OF SMASH!!” The fist and everything he had left to give, and then some, collided into All for One’s face head on, jaw snapping out of place, as he was thrown to the ground, the fist following into the dirt, smashing into him with such force, his legs flew up in the wake of his body. Such force and power thrown into the punch, threw the air and winds all around them into a flurry, twisting and spinning around, morphing into a massive tornado, larger then any that should’ve been possible, throwing any nearby debris and barreling around for several minutes, as gold lightning fired and flew out from the tornado, burning through the skies for a moment, before finally dying down. And in the crater that was left from their final bout, electricity sparking and fizzling all around the two, All Might, even weakened and left as nothing but skin and bones, took a deep breath, before raising his right fist over his head. Yellow and gold electrical bolts sparked and fizzled around the two, as All Might looked drained to the point of collapsing. A moment, later, he bulked up once more, standing over All for One’s unconscious form. Everyone watching roared with approval, cheers for All Might breaking out in the streets of Kamino, across everywhere that could see this victory. In the time it would take for the transmission to travel, All Might’s victory would inspire celebrations in all the countries he had visited at some point, his adopted home of America and other places soon to join in similar celebrations. It was the ultimate symbol of All Might's status as number. To be dragged to the lowest point, and push his way back to the top. Edgeshot climbed over the ruins, stumbling on the shattered masonry, as his eyes widened. “He’ll over exert himself doing that!” “Let him. He’s the Number One. He’s still got a job to do.” Gran Torino remarked softly. The sun rose over the tired and shattered remnants of Kamino Ward. It would be a long time til the city was ready to be lived in again, as Heroes, Police and EMTs spread out to rescue and clear out the debris, and start getting civilians to the hospitals and treatment facilities. As All for One had been taken into an Iron Maiden, and restrained under heavy metal gear, All Might was rushed to hospital for all the broken bones and lacerations he had suffered in their brawl. Neither would be walking away quite well anytime soon. Izuku watched the scene play out in shock from the streets he was on, not sure what would happen now. Even Venom was momentarily silent for a moment, before speaking to him. “The Heroes have done all they can,” He hissed, his voice low and awed. “For now, we go home.” Bakugou watched him for a moment, as Kirishima tried to get him to move. There was still something he wanted to clear up with Deku, a question crawling in the back of his mind. Looking at All Might being escorted by paramedics to safer area, he decided now was not the time to poke around. He could wait. All Might, meanwhile, sat back as the medics worked quickly, operating on his arm and carefully working around his now frail form. He had tried everything, and All for One was still a threat, even now defeated. The League was out there, and, even now, his time was coming to a close. Whether it was Young Midoriya or another, someone else would have to defeat the evil of society where he had failed. The next day, All for One, oxygen tanks and all attached to his wheel chair, with IV fluids pumping into his body, was wheeled into the walls of the mightiest prison man could have constructed. Layers and layers of walls, three Heroes chosen specifically for guarding this place, numerous automated gunneries that locked onto his seemingly frail form as he was brought in. Through the standard medical check-up and such before he was brought to prison, All for One had been surprisingly quiet and obedient. Now, however, his curiosity got the better of him. “Where am I exactly?” All for One asked politely to the guard pushing him in. “Shut your mouth!!” He shouted in rage. “After everything you’ve done, a death sentence would be too light! This kind of place is perfect for scum like you.” “Ah, a prison. I had trouble telling.” All for One replied easily, not bothered by the outburst. “Too many sensors here.” The guard calmed down for a moment, surprised for a moment. “You’re...you’re totally blind?” “Beyond the rustle of cloths and air vibrations, I have my infrared Quirk which I’ve used to navigate this world,” All for One explained. “I can also detect and pick up on emotions. But yes, my eyes have been gone for a long time.” ‘He couldn’t breath or see. And he fought All Might to a stand-still like this?’ The guard thought in terror, feeling sweat run down his forehead. As he pushed All for One along, the Master Villain was watched by another criminal, the former Hero killer Stain, watching the Tartarus Prison’s newest inmate come into the place, glancing at him from his cell with a weary expression, not sure if he should trust the rumors that had circulated from the guards that he overheard or not. ‘I lost All Might, and a pathetic struggle I put on.’ He thought to himself, shaking his head slightly, as the guns followed him. ‘But you’ve made a mistake.’ The elevator doors opened, two more guards standing aside to let them in, as the guard backed them into the elevator. ‘You’ve shown yourself at your lowest, and now you’re going to give up your power when the world will need you most.’ He thought, as a malicious grin spread across his lips. ‘Your power will fizzle out, as more and more criminals come to the fore. Including my Tomura.’ Shigaraki and the rest of the surviving League members stood within the abandoned warehouse they had been dumped into. The various team members watched him in silence. He stood in a darkened corner, away from the refuse and garbage dumped within it, his hood pulled tight over his head, as he breathed hard, his eyes bloodshot and enraged. No one dared even approach him at this state. ‘A teacher’s job is to make his student independent of his master, preparing them for the future.’ All for One thought with a chuckle to himself. ‘When a teacher vanishes and that students needs him, he’ll learn to stand on his own, and walk the path of a true leader. He has comrades, he’ll learn to find more.’ The silvery head of Riot sprouted from his shoulder, drawing near, as he whispered to Shigaraki, out of earshot of the rest. ‘You’ll do fine now Shigaraki. With Riot, use your experiences, your hatreds and regrets to push yourself onwards.’ Both All Might and All for One had thought the same thing of their students, of Izuku Midoriya, the bright, hopeful spark and figure who would never give up on being a Hero, aided by the brutal and free-spirited Venom, and of Tomura Shigaraki, the determined, single-minded Heir to Villainy, helped by Riot, the brutal Conquering Leader among Klyntar. “Now, it’s your turn!”

As it turned out, Draco was not in a completely heartless mood and Harry found the door to the prefects' bathroom opened when he spoke the password. He slipped inside and, with a thought, disabled the password, effectively locking the door behind him. Draco was already in the bath, water cascading from two of the taps into the almost full pool. No matter how many times he used it, the prefects' bathroom was always spectacular to Harry, even more so with Draco in it. The opulent setting seemed to fit his soulmate and the way the rising steam made Draco's skin glisten had Harry licking his lips in anticipation. There was something almost ethereal about Draco with all his pale skin and pale hair among the mist above the hot water. Harry was captivated. When Draco looked up at him, silver eyes clear and just slightly smiling, Harry's breath caught in his throat. Sometimes he couldn't believe this was his life, that Draco was his and he was Draco's. Maybe it was the view combined with everything else, but he felt his heart swell and his throat tighten as he just stood there. "Come here you ridiculous Gryffindor," Draco said, shaking his head fondly. Harry didn't need inviting twice. He padded around the edge of the bath, slipping off his shoes, glasses and robe and putting their toiletries on top, before sliding into the water. It was beautifully warm and he bobbed under and back up again, pushing his way over to Draco with one stroke. "Now, I believe you had some learning to do," Draco said. Harry's erection had wilted a little with the practicalities of gathering everything they needed and making his way to the prefect's bathroom, but it sprang back to life at those words. He leaned in to Draco, kissing those perfect lips that held just a hint of a mischievous smile. Draco responded, opening his mouth and darting his tongue over Harry's lips. There was no question that Harry would not open up to Draco and the kiss deepened. Harry let himself fall into the feel of Draco as well, focussing on nothing but their connection. It was at moments like this he felt most whole, most at peace. "Oh, Harry," Draco whispered, breaking the kiss, "is there anything you wouldn't let me do to you now?" "No." It was the simple truth. "What do you want?" "All of you," Harry replied. "Bend over the side of the bath for me," Draco said, tone coaxing, but commanding at the same time. "Where?" "There, use the steps. I want most of you out of the water." Harry had no problem obeying that command. It wasn't cold out of the water, but the change in temperature made little goose-bumps rise on his skin. "For me?" Draco asked and ran a hand down his back, causing his skin to react even more. He made a very quiet agreeing sound and Draco stepped up behind him. When Draco reached past him to where he had left all their things, he wasn't really expecting his soulmate to pick up the flannel, but he wasn't about to argue. As long as Draco touched him, he didn't mind how. "You have such lovely skin," Draco said, soaking the flannel in the water. "Says the man with acres of perfect body," Harry replied with a small laugh. "I didn't say it was better than mine," Draco told him and he gasped as Draco went straight for his more sensitive regions with the wash cloth. It seemed Draco had something very specific in mind and Harry was just along for the ride, so he enjoyed the sensations and decided to shut up. "Cleanliness is so very important, don't you agree, Love?" Draco said. Harry would have replied, but Draco momentarily removed his ability to think by giving his cock a very firm stroke. He moaned instead. "I thought so," Draco said and kissed his back. Draco then spent the next five minutes washing him from head to toe, with special attention on anywhere that could be remotely considered an erogenous zone. Harry was putty in his lover's hands. "I think you may be ready now," Draco finally decided, placing the flannel back on the side of the bath. Once again Harry was surprised as Draco did not do what he expected. The pot of lube that was neatly disguised as body lotion remained right where he had left it on his robe. What Draco did do was run those amazing hands of his from the top of Harry's back to the base and gave Harry's arse a good squeeze. "Now don't over balance," Draco told him. He hummed in agreement and Draco began to kiss down his spine. His lover didn't stop when he reached the end of it either. With dexterous fingers, Draco spread Harry's buttocks and carried on. Harry swore, because he hadn't been expecting that either. Draco had a very clever tongue for more than talking. Harry's legs almost gave out as his soulmate employed it to devastating effect. His balls felt like they were ready to explode after only the first touch. When Draco reached a hand between his legs and gave his cock a good stroke as well, it took every ounce of will he had not to. "So there is a use for that Gryffindor stubbornness," Draco said when he finally came up for air. He sounded far too pleased with himself and Harry really couldn't blame him. "Merlin's balls," was the best he could manage as a comeback. "Oh, I'm far more interested in yours," Draco said and fondled them for good measure. [Please,] he begged because he knew what he wanted and it wasn't Draco's tongue. [Am I wonderful? Am I incredible?] [Yes and god yes,] Harry replied. It never ceased to amaze him how well Draco could take him apart, inch by inch. Finally Draco did reach for the lube and Harry moaned in renewed anticipation. He was so ready it took bare moments for Draco to prepare him. His body had responded so completely to Draco's ministrations that he opened up to Draco's fingers with ease. Then Draco urged him forward just a little and moved in right behind him. He moaned long and loud as Draco finally pushed into him. His body opened, his mind opened and he joined with Draco as completely as it was possible for two people to be. He shared his pleasure, his want, his love and his joy and Draco moaned, coming to rest against his back. This was what it meant to be alive. They needed no words as Draco slowly began to move. They were together in love and desire, and they expressed both in a very physical manner. Nothing else remotely impinged on Harry's consciousness as he was enveloped by all that was Draco. At no other time was he ever so completely unaware of the world around him. With Draco in his heart and his mind he let himself go. He had been so close to the edge from everything Draco had been doing to him that it didn't take long. His orgasm took him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. As wonderful sensations shot all over his body and he came hard, shuddering uncontrollably, he felt Draco withdraw from their connection, just for a few moments. He found out why almost immediately, as Draco continued thrusting into him, even stroke after even stroke, as he rode out his orgasm. Draco hadn't given in like he had, Draco was very much still going. His gasps became moans as Draco showed no signs of stopping at all. "Let's see how long it takes you to go again," Draco whispered in his ear and Harry whimpered.  * * *  Harry was sprawled in the water looking thoroughly shagged out and Draco felt very pleased with himself. There was something inside him that liked it a lot when Harry surrendered to him so completely. His old friends probably would have thought it was something to do with control and domination, but that wasn't it at all. It was that Harry could let go so totally that made him happy. The trust and the knowledge that he was Harry's perfect match were what meant the most to him. His father's actions had tried to separate them and the rings Harry had created for them both meant no one could try that again, but it was their very natures which had saved them in the first place. Harry opened his eyes, catching Draco's gaze with those brilliant green orbs. He could see his own thoughts reflected back at him from deep within their depths. "Of course I do enjoy taking you apart as well," he said and smirked. Harry smiled back and lifted a hand out of the water, holding it out to him. Draco reached out and took it, allowing himself to be pulled in beside his soulmate. "Love you," Harry said, sounding entirely satisfied. "Love you too," Draco replied and leant in so their noses touched. "Ugh, too lovely dovey," said a voice from the corner of the room. "9 out of 10 for the rest though. Try harder next time." "Myrtle," Draco said at exactly the same time as Harry. All that greeted them was the sound of disappearing laughter.

Shibuya The morning after the trial, Kureto paces furiously around Shinya's dungeon cell as the omega leans against a wooden post with his head down. The beta out of his Kingsguard armor.   "I made a deal for you to keep your ungrateful head on your ungrateful neck a little while longer." Kureto rants.  "I'm sorry, what am I grateful for?" Shinya looks up, "The opportunity to live and die at the Wall as punishment for a crime I did not commit?" "You threw your life away. You threw it away. It's not a joke. You understand that, don't you?" Kureto asks Shinya with a serious look.  "Of course it's a joke, just not a very funny one." Shinya grumbles, "I couldn't- I couldn't listen to her standing there telling her lies. I couldn't do it." "You really thought Yukimi, the Master of Whisperers was someone you could trust?" Kureto asks.  "I was stupid enough to think that she was on my side. That deal you made, it was everything Uncle wanted. You do see that? He gets you back as the house heir. The future Lord of the Rock. And he ships me off to Nagoya, out of sight at last. All so perfect. It felt good to take that from him. He knows I'm innocent and he's willing to sacrifice me anyway." Shinya looks out the barred window.  "He's willing to sacrifice any of us." Kureto says.  "Not you. You're the golden son. You could lose a hand and fuck your own sister, but you'll always be the golden son." Shinya says.  "Careful. I'm the last friend you've got." Kureto says stone-faced.  "At least I got to tell them what they really are." Shinya says.  "Yes, brilliant speech. They'll be talking about it for days to come. I thought you were a realist. Didn't realize you'd die for pride." Kureto drawls.  "Don't give up on me just yet. I survived one trial by combat, even though you weren't there to save me." Shinya says.  "I can't save you this time either. My training has proved that I can't beat a stable boy with my left hand, even if Mahiru would let me get within an inch of this trial." Kureto says.  "Where's your sense of adventure? Even if you lose, imagine the look on Uncle's face when you fall." Shinya says.  Kureto huffs a chuckle.  "Our family name snuffed out with a single swing of the sword." Shinya says.  "It is somewhat tempting." Kureto remains bare-faced.  "Well... Aiko fought for me once, she'll do it again. If she wins, I expect I'll be in her debt for the rest of my life." Shinya says.  "If she wins." Kureto says.  "Will you find her for me?" Shinya asks, Kureto nods. "Who does Mahiru plan on naming as a champion? I hope its Ser Fuola Honte. I'd enjoy watching Aiko disembowel that pompous child beater." Kureto shakes his head in defeat and looks down before returning Shinya's gaze, "No. Not Ser Fuola."  Shinya squints at Kureto before his eyes begin to dilate in realization.  Ser Saito roars as he mightily lifts his sword upright in the air with an alpha man impaled in the stomach on it. The large alpha is shirtless with only slacks on as the man on the sword heaves and groans in pain, his life slowly leaving him as blood pours from his mouth.  Mahiru watches from a distance with a slight smirk of pleasure. She's clad in her black gown with her purple hair down.  Ser Saito turns the sword over as the man's body easily falls off of it leaving a trail of his fresh blood on the dried one. A guard pushes another prisoner forward from a line of filthy ones, a beta this time.  "Go on, move it." The guard says as the young beta male moves towards the Mountain with a meager sword.  "And you. Come on." Another guard pushes another alpha out.  The alpha picks up a sword and charges towards Ser Saito who parries. The Mountain then slices his stomach to disembowel the alpha causing his intestines to pour out before he falls to the ground. The Mountain moves towards the beta who throws down his weapon and falls to his knees in front of him, "Mercy. Please. Please, mercy." Mahiru moves down the stone steps with her entourage of Kingsguard following close behind.  Ser Saito slices into the man with his sword spraying blood as Mahiru steps over the intestines.  The Mountain howls as he continues to strike the beta angrily before stopping when there is nothing left of the man, but pink slush and red blood.  "Ser Saito. Welcome to the capital. Thank you for riding here so quickly." Mahiru gets his attention and steps closer towards the alpha as she looks down at the puddle of the beta before her. "You seem to be in good form." "Who am I fighting?" Ser Saito asks.  "Does it matter?" Mahiru asks.  Ser Saito only shakes his head slowly in response with a killer look on his face. In Shinya's cell, the omega stares forlornly out the window. He can hear the footsteps bounding down the stairs. His door suddenly opens to reveal Aiko Aihara, clad in a red dress with pants, boots, and a matching cape. Something he's never seen her or any sellsword in.  She looks around the dim cell before her eyes find Shinya and she bows her head slightly, "My Lord." "You have new clothes." Shinya observes.  "Do you like them? Gloves are doeskin. Softer than a virgin's thighs." Aiko smirks.  "I sent for you days ago." Shinya says tensely.  "I've been a bit busy." Aiko acknowledges.  "Doing what?" "My lonesome days are over." Aiko says, "I am to wed Ahmya Haruka." "Ahmya Haruka? Doesn't strike me as your kind of omega." Shinya says.  "I wouldn't say I had a single sort of omega." Aiko shrugs.  "She's dim-witted." "If I wanted wits, I'd marry you." Aiko says.  "When my sister arranged this love match, did she mention that Ahmya has an older sister?" Shinya probes.  "Falya. Aye, I did know about the older sister." Aiko says.  "And you understand the rules of inheritance?"  "Falya is forty and barren." Aiko says.  "She still gets Castle Haruka when her father dies." Shinya says.  "She does. Unless she happens to perish before her father. Then Ahmya gets the castle." Aiko says, mischievously. Shinya can't hold back a scoff at that.  "What? People fall from their horses and snap their pretty necks all the time." Aiko shrugs. "You and my sister deserve each other. Why did you bother to come here?" Shinya says.  Aiko sits down on a little rock. "You once said if anyone ever asked me to sell you out, you'd double their price." "Is it two wives you want or two castles?" Shinya asks.  "One of each will do. But if you want me to kill the Mountain for you, it'd better be a damn big castle." Aiko explains.  "I'm a bit short on castles at the moment. But I can offer you gold and gratitude." Shinya says with slight desperation leaking out. "I have gold. What can I buy with gratitude?" Aiko muses.  Shinya stalks forward towards the beta, "You might be surprised. A Hiiragi always pays his debts." "Your sister's a Hiiragi, too." Aiko points out.  "Guren still remains and is Lord of Snowstorm. If I emerge from this with my head still on my shoulders, I may one day rule the Nagoya. I could carve you out a big piece of it." Shinya conjures up.  "If, may, and could. It's bloody cold up North. Ahmya is soft and warm. And close. If I gave you the choice between fucking Ahmya and fighting the Mountain, you'd have your britches down and your cock out before I could blink." Aiko says.  "Does he frighten you so much?" Shinya asks at a loss for words.  "I'd be a bloody fool if he didn't frighten me. He's freakish big and freakish strong. And quicker than you'd expect for a man of that size. Maybe I could take him, dance around until he's so tired of hacking at me, he dropped his sword, and get him off his feet somehow. But one misstep... and I'm dead. Why should I risk it?" Aiko says.  "Because you're my friend." Shinya says.  "Aye, I'm your friend. And when have you ever risked your life for me?" Aiko asks.  Shinya looks down in contemplation as his mind roves over all of his encounters with Aiko, but he finds himself coming up short. She's right and she knows it.  Aiko stands, "I like you, pampered little shit that you are. I just like myself more." "I understand." Shinya says.  "I'm sorry it has to be this way." Aiko says.  "Why are you sorry? Because you're an evil bitch with no conscience and no heart?" Shinya says, almost despondently while completely honest, "That's what I liked about you in the first place." Shinya extends his hand and Aiko hesitates before shaking it heartily.  "We had some good days together." Aiko says.  "Yes, we did." Shinya agrees with the ghost of a sad smile.  Aiko pats his arm and gives him a meaningful glance before making her way back towards the door.  "What will you do?" Aiko asks before knocking.  "I suppose I'll have to kill the Mountain myself. Won't that make for a great song?" Shinya muses sentimentally.  "I hope to hear them sing it one day." Aiko says before the door opens, she nods her head down and takes her leave.  Shinya watches the beta leave him, and he can't help but feel the finality of it all as his trial-by-combat breathes down his neck. He just lost his last hope for a champion and realizes just how fucked he is. But, he has no one to blame but himself for this situation.  In the dark of night, Shinya sits against the wooden post in his dungeon cell, dreading the circumstances he finds himself facing.  No light remains in the cell as he finds himself diving further into his pit of despair. He glances up when the loud sound of the door opening catches his attention. A flaming torch lights the room as the figure comes towards him to reveal Prince Basteya.  "I imagined you'd be back at the brothel at this hour." Shinya says miserably.  "I did spend some time with an absolutely stunning blonde the other day." Prince Basteya says, "His mouth felt like something that went above the seventh heaven." Shinya huffs a laugh, "Mm, do tell. I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind I like." Basteya puts the torch on a holder and sits down at Shinya's crouched level. "Your sister." "Oh." "Mahiru approached me. We spoke a great deal about daughters. She was trying very hard to pretend she had not come to sway me against you. I think she may have even believed it herself." Basteya says.  "Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts." Shinya says lowly.  "It was difficult for her to hide her true intentions. It is rare to meet a Hiiragi who shares my enthusiasm for dead Hiiragi's. She desperately wants to see you killed." Basteya says.  "She didn't need to bother you. It looks as though I've taken care of that myself. The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck. She's wanted this for a long time." Shinya says darkly.  "Yes, I know. Do you remember us meeting? Many years ago." Basteya says.  "Faintly." Shinya says.  "Our father brought me and my sister Elina with him on a visit to Hakone. My first time away from Harajuku. I didn't like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather, your accents. Nothing. But the biggest disappointment...you." Basteya says.  "You and my family have more in common than you might admit." Shinya says ironically.  "The whole way from Harajuku all anyone talked about was the omega that had been made into a Hiiragi by the King. We heard many conflicting things about you. That you were tall and short. Ugly and beautiful. Pudgy and thin. Raven-haired and purple-haired." Prince Basteya says. "When we met your sister, she promised she would show you to us. Every day we would ask. Every day she would say, "Soon." You had this habit of keeping to yourself when you were younger, always locked in the library by yourself with no one ever bothering you. Then, one day the library door was open, and she and your brother took us inside. She unveiled you. You were beautiful, in every conventional way. Something I found predictable and disappointing. Until today, I realized that you aren't like your family. Back then, we didn't try to hide our disappointment. I told Mahiru. "That's just a baby." And she said, "It doesn't matter, everyone says he's not one of us. That he does not belong here. I hope they are right. He should have never been brought here."" "My father, the King brought me home from an orphanage when I was very young. I don't remember a great deal, but he and the Mad King used to frequent our orphanage. Back before the Mad King became mad, he used to help the poor. When they were there, they would always talk amongst each other and pass constant glances at me and only me while looking around. Strangely it was mostly the Mad King. I could tell the difference easily because their cold and imperial looks towards anyone else was rather obvious. No other children captured their attention like I did without even speaking a word to either of them. But, I was always told to respect alphas, especially those in higher positions as a common omega. So, when I was brought to them one day and told that Lord Hiiragi wanted to make me his son in every possible way, what could I do? I was shocked, but they both told me it in the kindest way they could muster, and clearly wanted it as much as I needed it. A chance at a good life on Hakone that not many omegas could ever dream of. Both, Father and Mother loved me and treated me like I was their trueborn son. Father, especially saw to it that I was educated. Even the Mad King was not terrible to me before the rebellion. But, all of them are gone now." Shinya reminisces with watery eyes in defeat. "Well... sooner or later, Mahiru always gets what she wants."  "And what about what I want? Justice for my sister and her children." Prince Basteya says.  "If you want justice, you've come to the wrong place." Shinya shakes his head.  "I disagree." Prince Basteya says before rising with his torch illuminating him and declaring, "I've come to the perfect place. I want to bring those who have wronged me to justice. And all those who have wronged me are right here. I will begin with Ser Saito, who killed my sister's children and then raped her with their blood still on his hands before killing her, too. I will be your champion." Shinya huffs a gasping breath of grateful relief as he looks up at his new champion.  Riverlands On the borders of the Riverlands, Mitsuba and Aoi ride side-by side on their horses past a large green tree.  Once past they see a hidden, smoldering farm hidden by smoke and dark trees.  "Could be food." Aoi says.  "Could be soldiers." Mitsu retorts.  Aoi and Mitsu ride forward into the smoke and dismount. Both women have their swords drawn as they enter the grounds of the farm.   They hear a grunt and follow the sound until they find a man propped up on a well with a bleeding wound in his gut.  "You shouldn't be sitting out here like this." Mitsu says.  "Where else to sit? Tried to walk back to my hut, hurt too much. Then I remembered they burned my hut down." The man grunts out.  "Who were "they"?" Aoi asks.  "I stopped asking a while ago." The man says.  Aoi kneels down to inspect the wound.  "That's not gonna get better." Aoi tells him.  "Doesn't seem so." The man keeps his eyes down.  "A bad way to go. Haven't you had enough?" Aoi asks as Mitsu passes a wary glance.  "Of what? I know. Time to go. Take matters into my own hands. The thought has occurred to me." The man says.  Mitsu kneels near the man, "So why go on?" "Habit." "Nothing could be worse than this." Mitsu says.  "Maybe nothing is worse than this." The man says.  "Nothing isn't better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing." Mitsu says.  "Who are you?" The man asks.  "My name is Mitsuba. Mitsuba Sanguu."  "You her mother?" The man asks.  "Her sister. Bringing her home to her real family for money." Aoi responds.  "A fair exchange, that is. Always held to the notion of fair exchange in all my dealings. You give me, I give you. Fair. A balance. No balance anymore." The man says, "Could I have a drink? Dying is thirsty work." Aoi gives the man a drink of water.  "Wish it were wine." The man says after taking a hearty sip. "So do I." Aoi agrees before plunging her dagger into the man's heart. He looks up at her as she nods and removes the blade. He smiles a tiny bit before he closes his eyes and dies. Aoi wipes the blood off of her knife on his shirt.  "That's where the heart is. That's how you kill a man." Aoi tells Mitsu.  Suddenly, a man screams as he jumps on Aoi's back and bites her in the neck enough to draw blood. Aoi flips the man over her shoulder onto a rock, so that he bangs his head harshly against it. Blood pours from the top of his head. Mitsu and Aoi stand and turn to see a man with a sword.  Mitsu squints in confusion because the man looks familiar before her eyes widen in realization. He was a prisoner of Torrhen to be sent to the Wall. The one who threatened to rape her.  "The fuck you doing?" Aoi asks.  "There's a price on your head." The man says.  "Guess that's what the King does when you tell him to fuck off." Aoi says.  "The King's dead. He drank poisoned wine at his own wedding. The bounty on you is for killing Hiiragi soldiers. 100 silver stags." The man says as Mitsu and Aoi share a shocked glance. "And you thought you were going to collect it? Didn't think very hard, did you?" Aoi challenges as she holds her bleeding neck.  "You were Torrhen's prisoners when he was taking me to the Wall. He told me he'd fuck me bloody with a stick." Mitsu tells Aoi as she comes closer to the two.  "This day's really not working out the way you planned." Aoi tells the man before turning to Mitsu, "He on your little list?" "He can't be. I don't know his name." Mitsu says.  "What's your name?" Aoi turns back.  "Ranpan." The man says.  "Thank you." Mitsu says with a smile as she stands right in front of the man. She quick draws her needle and fatally stabs him in the heart, similar to how Aoi showed her.  The man groans in pain and falls to the ground while Mitsu wipes her sword clean on his body.  "You're learning." Aoi says, slightly impressed.  Mitsu sheathes her needle and turns to follow Aoi back to the horses.  In a mountainous and green valley, Mitsu cleans and sharpens her blade as Aoi tries to tend to her wound alone.  It is still day as the horses graze on the grass and Mitsu studies her sister clumsily trying to do it all by herself. "Rat cunts. Fucking whore." Aoi curses.  "You're doing it wrong. You need to burn away that horrible bit there. Otherwise it's gonna get infected and fester. If you don't do it right-" Mitsu puts down her sword and stands.  "I know what I'm doing." Aoi insists as she struggles.  "Let me help you, it will only take a second." Mitsu comes closer. Aoi stands up abruptly and backs away. "NO!" Mitsu's eyes widen at the insistence and they both stand still, silently staring at one another for a long time. Mitsu finally gives up after a few minutes and begins to pick up her sword to continue with what she was doing before. She sits and returns to her cleaning.   Aoi studies her as her face slightly softens, "Shut up about it. Shut up about everything. Thanks to you, I'm a walking bag of silver anywhere the Hiiragi's hold sway. Which is everywhere between where we are now and where we're going." Aoi retakes her seat, "I'm as stupid as that hog you stuck back in the village, getting myself stabbed and bitten. No reward is worth this much trouble. Wish I'd never met you. Wish I'd never taken you."  Mitsu remains silent. "Then, why did you?" "I don't fucking know." Aoi lies, but she does. She knows why she did it. She wanted to protect her sister and take care of her, even if she wasn't good at showing it. She wanted her sister to be safe and who better to be with than her for that. Despite, current events.  Mitsu studies her sister, "Let me wash it out and help you sew it up at least." Aoi remains silent and keeps her eyes down. Mitsu takes that as an invitation. She stands and walks towards her with the water pouch. Mitsu pours the water on the wound which causes Aoi to wince before she begins to sew up the bite. Aoi carefully and uncertainly watches her sister as she does so. Ikebukuro A horn blows as rangers train in the snowy courtyards of Ikebukuro.  "Rangers returning!" A man announces from atop the dark stone castle.  Yuu, Benjey, and the remainder of his party come through the tunnels leading to beyond the wall.  "They return!" "Rangers returning!" "Greetings." Yuu calls out from the front in his dark feathered cloak.  The men in the yard come to greet them with Seishi at the front. Many of the brothers trading hugs with each other.  Banko joins the men, as well.  Yuu and Seishi hug, "All right, Warden?" Kusunoki and his party enter on the second-story platform.  "Lord Ichinose." Kusunoki says in the usual mocking tone as Yuu finishes hugging Banko.  Asu enters from the tunnel remaining at the entrance and in very good sight.  They all look up at Kusunoki as his eyes find Asu.  "This is no place for wild beasts. Lock him away or I'll let Knob throw him in tonight's stew." Kusunoki threatens.  Yuu gazes darkly at the man before turning and walking towards Asu.  "Come on, Asu." Yuu says to the wolf who instinctively follows him towards the kennels.  In the Great Hall of Ikebukuro, all of the men sit at the tables with the exception of Yuu who stands before Kusunoki at the elevated table on the platform. "Mel's army was closing in on Rast's Keep when we left. We saw their campfires from Orien Hill. They'll reach the Wall before the next full moon." Yuu says.  "I'm surprised you didn't ride over and say hello. The King Beyond-the-Wall is your old friend, isn't he?" One of Kusunoki's men provoke Yuu. Yuu ignores the man and addresses Kusunoki, "We need to prepare." "We've been preparing." Kusunoki says.  "We should seal the tunnel. Plug it with rocks and ice. Flood it and let it freeze." Yuu suggests.  "And how would we range north?" Kusunoki asks.  "We wouldn't." Yuu says.  "Coward. You would cut off our legs, pluck out our eyes, and leave us cowering behind the Wall hoping for the storm to pass?" Kusunoki sneers at Yuu. "We can't defend the gate against a hundred thousand men." Benjey says.  "This castle has stood for thousands of years. The Watch has defended her for thousands of years. And in all those centuries, we have never sealed the tunnel." Kusunoki says. "Have you ever seen a giant, Ser Eita? I have." Yuu challenges.  "The bars on those gates are four inches thick. Cold-rolled steel." Kusunoki says. "They won't stop them." Yuu says knowingly. "Remind me which order you belong to, Lord Ichinose." Kusunoki mocks.  "The stewards." Yuu says knowing he is going to be shot down in the end.  "Are the stewards responsible for maintaining the tunnel?" Kusunoki challenges.  "No." Yuu says lowly.  "Who would that be?" Kusunoki asks.  "The builders." Yuu says, slightly annoyed.  "Ah, the builders. First Builder Yarwitch, Lord Ichinose here recommends sealing the tunnel, leaving us unable to carry out our duties as sworn brothers of the Watch. Do you agree with him?" Kusunoki ridicules.  Yarwitch gives a long pause of consideration before answering, "No." "Given your deep knowledge of the Wild One army, Lord Snow, you and Seishi will take night duties atop the Wall until the full moon." Kusunoki orders.  A good chunk of the room lets out laughs. Yuu moves, ready to murder the man before Seishi grabs his arm to stop him.  "Moving on. First Builder, we'll need a hundred barrels of pitch brought atop the wall." Kusunoki continues on with his business.  "Aye." Yarwitch agrees.  Yuu loudly retakes his seat as his large hand comes to rub at his eyes in frustration.  Shinjuku - Meeridan In the dead of night, Mikaela Shindo makes his way to his bedchambers. His hair is still down with the multiple braids. The omega is clad in a blue gown with navy dragon scales etched in the top of the gown. The gown is a covered in the navy blue from the top to bottom sides with a light blue chiffon skirt revealed in an open archway of the dress at the front and back. There's an opening on the front that slightly bares his chest and an opening at the back that shows the top of his back. The omega is wary from his day at the Meeridan court to deal with the matters that his people face. He enters the room that leads to his council table and has to do a double take. Mika looks at the hallway with a guard still posted all the way down that he just passed and then back at Shahal in the dark room.  Shahal is clad in a simple, loose tunic that exposes his collar bones, tight slacks, and riding boots. The man has flowers in his hands as he turns to look at Mika.  "How did you get in here?" Mika asks in sheer wonderment.  "Your door is well-guarded." Shahal gestures to the door with the bouquet, "But your window is not." Mika makes his way to the alpha, climbing up the steps to meet where he stands near the table.  Shahal hands him the bouquet, "I swam to an island a mile offshore for these." Mika hands it back to him with an annoyed look, "Don't do that again." "Never met an omega who didn't like wildflowers." Shahal says.  Mika begins to remove the dragon-themed jewelry, "These are my private quarters. If I want you here, I will summon you." Mika takes a seat on a backless chair which seems to be rather common in Meeridan. Shahal kneels playfully to him to plead for forgiveness, "Forgive me, my queen. I live to serve you." "Tell me why you're here." Mika orders as Shahal rises.  "I came to ask a favor. I only have two talents in this world- war and omegas. You are staying here in Meeridan to rule. That is a wise decision. I respect it. But here in Meeridan, I cannot pursue my talents." Shahal says.  "I've ordered the Second Sons to patrol the streets to stop the revenge killing." Mika says resolutely.  "You've ordered us to be night watchmen." Shahal argues.  "And as for omegas, there are thousands in Meeridan you can pursue." Mika says.  "There is only one, and he does not want me." Shahal says.  Mika refrains from rolling his eyes, "You swore me your sword." "My sword is yours till the day I die." Shahal says.  "So if I command you to stay in Meeridan and patrol the streets?" Mika asks.  "I'll stay in Meeridan and patrol the streets. Send me to kill your enemies. Any enemy anywhere. Let me do what I do best." Shahal says.  Mika considers the man before him. He considers all he's offering. He's considering the three years that have passed since Makoto and his son's death. Maybe, now is the time to move on. Find something with anyone. He loved Makoto, but he does not know if he was the one he was fated and destined to be with forever since he's died. He's not sure if Makoto was the alpha he was supposed to find and feel the fated connection with since he does not know what it would feel like. Lucal always told him he'd know what it'd feel like when it happened and he still remains uncertain that it ever happened when he was with Makoto. He loved Makoto with all he could possibly give, but was that enough to mean they were each other's fated pair. He does not feel the same about Shahal, but if anything, this may provide a distraction.  Mika rises and moves to pour himself a cup of wine, "Very well. Do what you do best." Mika retakes his seat with a somewhat hungry and uncertain look in his eyes before ordering, "Take off your clothes." Shahal smirks at the omega as Mika remains uncertain as he gazes at the strong alpha's toned and muscular chest when he removes his shirt and shoes. The tanned skin being lit in the moonlight. Shahal moves to unlace his pants as they fall to the floor to reveal his huge alpha cock. Mika looks at it admittedly with lust while the fear remains on his face. A little gust of wind blows his blonde hair a bit.  Mika takes a large gulp of wine to finish and rises. He walks towards Shahal and places his arms on his chest to feel the warm muscles. Mika looks at the alpha's pink lips, licking his own. He doesn't feel the need to produce any slick which should be the first sign, but he ignores it, in favor of rising to match his lips to Shahal's one in a light kiss. Mika kisses the alpha who reciprocates, but the omega doesn't feel anything. A cold feeling soon settles in him as he deepens the kiss. He realizes it feels just like it did when he kissed Makoto. His husband's face flashes in his head causing him to pull away from Shahal with a gasp.  Shahal's eyes widen, "Are you okay?" Mika remains at a distance from the naked alpha, "This, we-I can't do this. It's not right." "Why?" Shahal asks.  "I'm not ready." Mika huffs out sardonically, feeling pathetic. "Three years have passed since Makoto died and I still can't move past him far enough to kiss another alpha. Even though his bite mark has faded from my skin long ago." "It doesn't have to mean anything." Shahal says almost in a plea.  "I know that." Mika looks at him, "Even then, I can't do it. Not yet." "When?" "I don't know." Mika says. He feels like he's betraying his memory and love for Makoto if he does this with some random alpha.  The room remains tensely silent until a realization hits Mika about what he really wants.  "It wouldn't mean anything to you?" Mika asks.  "I already said that." Shahal says.  "That's the problem. It would mean something to me to do this with an alpha that I don't..." Mika trails off, for once feeling like his age as he looks at the older alpha.  "Love?" Shahal says.  Mika nods slightly, "Not to mention what this would mean for my reign, a lover is a liability. Giving in as an omegan Queen to an alpha I am not even mated to is something I won't allow myself to do. I value you as a friend and soldier, but that's all it can be." Shahal looks like a kicked puppy but nods his head, "I'll respect that." Mika nods.  "Your Grace, a word of advice." Shahal says, "Friends are important, but they're also liabilities too. You can be open around them, even if you are a Queen." Mika studies the man, "It's rather late for you to leave now, even if you are the head of the Second Sons. You can sleep in the soft chair for the night." Shahal nods, "Pleasant dreams, Your Grace." Mika looks back at the man, "You, as well." Mika makes his way towards his bedchambers as Shahal puts on his pants and settles into the soft long chair for the night.   In the early morning light, Ser Lacus makes his way to the council chambers in the Great Pyramid.  He strides around the hallways and is about to turn the corner before Shahal turns it at the same time, shoving his shirt on his naked chest.  Ser Lacus' eyes widen at the sight of Shahal leaving the Queen's chambers so early in the morning. Shahal plasters a smug look on his face.  "Lacus. Are you here to see our queen? He seems to be in a good mood." Shahal pats a silently fuming Lacus on the shoulder before making his way past the beta.  Lacus looks at the alpha before glancing at the entrance to the council chambers. The sun shines through the window onto a table where Mika looks down at a spread-out map. The omega has all of his pale blonde hair down. Mika wears a new dress. An x-shaped cross made of cerulean dragon scale fabric crosses down the front of Mika's torso to his waist, creating a barrier around the waist for a white-grey pleated chiffon skirt to continue all the way down to his feet. There are light-blue cut outs to cover his nipples that strap around to his back to connect with the cross. The dress has cut outs that reveal his naked chest, belly button, and left and right part of his abdomen that are shaped by the cross. Giving Mika a looks that makes him look more open by revealing more.  Mika studies the map as Ser Lacus walks inside.  "Khaleesi." Ser Lacus says.  "You're here early." Mika says.  "Later than some." Ser Lacus says with a bite that Mika catches.  "I take you ran into Shahal. You needn't worry, nothing happened." Mika says.  "I can't trust him, he's a sellsword." Ser Lacus says.  "Didn't you fight for the Gold Company before pledging your sword to Lucal?" Mika challenges.  "I did." "I trust you." Mika says sincerely.  "Shahal killed his captains and dumped their heads at your feet when he grew tired of their commands. How could you ever have faith in a man like that?" Ser Lacus asks.  "As I've said before nothing happened and even if anything did, I would not have to answer to anyone for it." Mika says slightly defensive, "Besides, I could never have faith in a man like Shahal. That's why I've sent him and the Second Sons to retake Yunkarion." "You have?" Ser Lacus is now eager to change the subject.  "I have." Mika reiterates.  "Without you there to rule, Khaleesi, I fear the masters will simply bide their time, wait for the invaders to leave and reassert control." Ser Lacus says.  "That is why I've ordered Shahal to execute every master in Yunkarion. The masters tear babies from their mothers' arms. They mutilate little children by the thousands. They train little omegas in the art of pleasuring old alphas and betas. They treat alphas like beasts, as you said yourself." Mika says. "Herding the masters into pens and slaughtering them by the thousands is also treating men like beasts. The slaves you freed, brutality is all they've ever known. If you want them to know something else, you'll have to show it to them." Ser Lacus says.  "And repay the slavers with what? Kindness? A fine? A stern warning?" Mika asks sarcastically, "I've already tried the ones here, and yet we still face problems in Meeridan. What good has this mercy done?" "It's tempting to see your enemies as evil, all of them, but there's good and evil on both sides in every war ever fought." Ser Lacus advises.  "Let the priests argue over good and evil. Slavery is real. I can end it. I will end it. And I will end those behind it." Mika declares.  "I sold men into slavery, Khaleesi." Ser Lacus points out.  "And now you are helping me show them to freedom." Mika argues.  "I wouldn't be here to help you if Guren Ichinose had done to me what you want to do to the masters of Yunkarion." Ser Lacus says.  Mika considers this before an idea springs into his head, "The man who came to me the other day about burying his father." "Hizakh lo Doraj?" "He will accompany the Second Sons and serve as my ambassador to Yunkarion. He will tell the masters what has happened in Meeridan. He will explain the choice they have before them. They can live in my new world or they can die in their old one." Mika tells Ser Lacus sternly.  Ser Lacus has the ghost of a smile on his face as he nods.  "Well, go and catch Shahal before he leaves. Tell him I changed my mind." Mika tells Ser Lacus.  "Yes, Khaleesi." Ser Lacus says, moving to leave.  "No." Mika stops Ser Lacus, "Tell him you changed my mind."  Ser Lacus nods with the ghost of a smile that mirrors Mika's as the beta takes his leave from him.  Ebina Shinoa is clad in a dark cloak over her lilac dress as she walks down the hallway towards the Ebina courtyard. She walks outside into the snow that falls onto the ground of the courtyard, already having covered the ground in white. She looks around in awe as she remembers the last time she ever saw snow was back home in Nagoya at Snowstorm. She feels a wave of nostalgia overtake her as she feels the cool white feeling hit her skin and her purple hair.  She looks down at the snow and decides to do something that reminds her of home. She gets on the ground and begins to construct a model of Snowstorm Castle. She must have spent around three peaceful and unbothered hours outside creating a perfect replica of the snowy castle made out of snow. Once she's finally done, she sits back and looks at her handiwork as a wave of melancholy washes over her at the sight of her former home.  She turns at the sound of footsteps and sees Ryuki emerge, "Hello, Ryuki." "What are you doing?" Ryuki asks.  "I'm building my home, Snowstorm. At least I think I am. I haven't been back there in a very long time." Shinoa says.  "Why did you leave?" Ryuki asks as he crouches.  "It's a long story." Shinoa says with a rueful smile.  "I stay here in Ebina. Mother says it's dangerous on the roads and I have to keep myself safe because I'm the Lord of Ebina and the Lord of Ebina is a very important person." Ryuki says.  "Yes, you certainly are." Shinoa agrees.  "When will you go back?" "Probably never. My family doesn't live there anymore and someone burned it down." Shinoa says.  "Oh. Does Snowstorm have a Moon Door?" Ryuki asks.  "No, I'm afraid not. It's not high up in the mountains. It's down on the ground." Shinoa explains.  "That sounds dangerous. How do you make people fly?" Ryuki says.  "We don't." "What do you do with all the bad people and the scary people and the people you don't like?" Ryuki asks.  "I never did anything with them at all. Omegas didn't take part in that where I came from." Shinoa says.  "Well, I'm Lord of Ebina. When I grow up, I'll be able to fly anybody who bothers me. Or you. When we get married, you can tell me if you don't like somebody and then we can bring them back here and, whoosh! Right through the Moon Door." Ryuki rambles on.  Shinoa remains amused, the boy seems harmless so she plays along. "I like the sound of that." "Let's put a Moon Door in your Snowstorm." Ryuki suggests.  "All right." "It can go in here in this big tower." Ryuki hastily reaches to show her, but accidentally knocks down the snow tower he touches.  "Careful." Shinoa gets out too late before sighing, "You've ruined it. Now I'm going to have to rebuild the whole thing." "I didn't ruin it." Ryuki says defensively.  Shinoa rises and Ryuki does with her, which causes her to realize she's actually taller than him. "You did." "It was already ruined because it didn't have a Moon Door. I was fixing it!" Ryuki whines.  "Knocking things down isn't fixing them. It's ruining them." Shinoa reprimands.  "I didn't ruin it!" Ryuki starts to whine and stomp.  "You're being stupid." Shinoa says. "I didn't ruin it!" Ryuki shouts and begins to kick Shinoa's Snowstorm until it no longer remains.  Shinoa watches shocked and angered. She's tired of these annoying, bratty alpha men in her life that think they can treat omegas horribly because of their status. Her bubbling rage grows as the boy stomps and once he stops and looks at her challengingly, she finally lets it all out. She slaps the boy across his face for ruining her happiness. The boy holds his face and gazes at a dazed Shinoa with wide eyes.  Shinoa snaps out of her daze as Ryuki sobs and runs away, "Ryuki, I'm sorry, I-" "Children." A voice says across from her at the other entrance causes her to turn to see Kagiyama.  "I hit him." Shinoa says.  "Yes, I saw." "I shouldn't have done that." Shinoa tells him.  "No, his mother should have a long time ago. Consider it a step in the right direction." Kagiyama consoles her.  "If he tells Lady Hyakuya-" Shinoa starts.  "Let me worry about Lady Hyakuya." Kagiyama reassures her.  "I was trying to remember what everything looked like. I'll never see it again." Shinoa says forlornly at the pile of snow where her Snowstorm was.  "A lot can happen between now and never. If you want to build a better home, first you must demolish the old one." Kagiyama tells her lowly.  Shinoa studies the man suspiciously, "Why did you really kill Takashi? Tell me why." "I loved your brother more than you could ever know. Given the opportunity, what do we do to those who've hurt the ones we love? In a better world, one where love could overcome strength and duty, you might have been my child. But we don't live in that world." Kagiyama tells her closely.  Kagiyama strokes her purple hair before saying, "You're more beautiful than he ever was." "Lord Kagiyama-" Shinoa starts, almost fearful.  "Call me Taro." Kagiyama says before cupping the omega's cheeks with his cold hands and lifting her face to meet his in a forceful and dubious kiss.  Shinoa closes her eyes as she tries to get away from the strong grip.  Both remain unaware of Lady Fumie Hyakuya watching their entire exchange and fuming with a need for murder and vengeance at another Hiiragi besting her before she turns to leave.  Shinoa finally manages to pull away and looks at the beta in shock and slight disgust, while Kagiyama looks at her with uncertain lust and annoyance at the end of the kiss. Shinoa makes her way to the Ebina Throne Room after being summoned by Lady Hyakuya after she came back inside from the snow.  Lady Hyakuya stands near the Moon Door looking out of it.  "You wanted to see me, Lady Hyakuya?" Shinoa asks.  "Come here, Shinoa." Lady Fumie distantly tells her.  Shinoa joins her hesitantly at the edge of the Moon Door. They both look down at the clouds under the door and the lush greenery and specks of rocky landscape that can be made out from such a height. The port and lake that can be seen covered by the clouds.   "Do you know how far the fall is?" Lady Fumie asks.  "No." "Neither do I. Has to be hundreds of feet. It's fascinating what happens to bodies when they hit the rocks from such a height. The impact breaks them right apart. Like eggs dropped on the floor. Sometimes pieces remain intact. You'll find the head sitting on its own. Every hair in place. Amber eyes staring at nothing." Lady Fumie says which catches Shinoa's attention as the woman's voice grows murderously cold with her next sentence. "I know what you did." "I'm so sorry, Lady Hyakuya. I never should have hit Ryuki, I know it. I promise it won't happen-" Shinoa starts to apologize.  "Don't be coy with me, you little whore. You kissed him. You kissed Taro." Lady Fumie sneers at the girl.  "I didn't. You don't understand." Shinoa's voice gets louder and defensive.  Lady Fumie grabs Shinoa's forearm, "I saw you! You can't lie to me because I saw it with my own eyes!" "He kissed me. I pulled away." Shinoa retorts in desperation.  Lady Fumie grabs the back of Shinoa's hair in a vice grip and pulls her over until she is kneeled to lean over the Moon Door as Shinoa cries. "Liar! Whore! He is mine!" "Please!" Shinoa begs as tears begin to pour past her eyes.  "Everyone stood between us and now they're all dead. That's what happens to people who stand between Taro and me." Lady Hyakuya hisses at Shinoa before shouting, "Look down! Look down! Look down! Look down!" "Fumie!" Kagiyama's familiar voice stops Lady Fumie's rage for a split second as he enters, "Let her go." "You want her? This empty-headed child?" Lady Fumie shouts in disbelief and madness at being passed up for another Hiiragi.  "Let her go." Kagiyama says.  "She's just like her brother. She'll never love you." Lady Fumie cries while holding back tears. "I lied for you. I killed for you. Why did you bring her here?!? Why?!?"  "I'll send her away. I swear on my life. I swear to all the gods. Let her go, Fumie." Kagiyama implores.  Shinoa's whines can be heard.  Lady Fumie considers this with her grip remaining tight as her face scrunches up.  Lady Fumie pushes Shinoa back by the breast as she lets go of her hair so that the omega falls back onto the cold, stone ground.  Shinoa is paralyzed in fear and relief as she sits back.  Lady Hyakuya finally breaks down on the ridge of the Moon Door, leaning on it to weep. Kagiyama approaches her carefully and gently.  "Oh, my sweet wife. My sweet, silly wife." Kagiyama says as he comes to her and kneels to her level.  He holds her shoulders as Shinoa recovers and watches the two.  Kagiyama rises with her in his arms as he makes her face him.  He meets her tearful gaze with solemn and cold ones, "I have only loved one omega... only one, my entire life." Lady Fumie smiles at him in a dazed happiness, believing he means her. Shinoa looks up at the two. "Shinya Hiiragi." Kagiyama declares darkly with a low tone of voice.  Kagiyama watches as Lady Fumie Hyakuya's face falls before coldly pushing her off the edge and past the Moon Door. Kagiyama watches as she screams while she falls to her death until he cannot hear it anymore. Shinoa watches the man, surprised that she is not shocked by this as much as she should be. 

She only lost consciousness for two or three seconds really; then the pounding of blood in her ears died down, and Anne realised she was leaning heavily against someone, and that that someone was supporting her from sliding to the ground by keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her. She opened her eyes. Then she lifted her head and looked up into Gilbert’s fury-white face. Upon seeing her move a wave of deep relief swept over his features; but the next moment he looked, if that was possible, even more angry. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ Anne had never before heard him – or, indeed, anybody else – use such a voice. ‘I— I just—‘ she began, and realised her teeth were chattering just like that night in the stable, only a hundred times more. ‘Just what?’ Gilbert demanded, his hands slipping to her elbows and grasping them so tight it hurt. ‘Just what, Anne? Are you crazy?’ His eyes had such a distraught look Anne was frightened even more, and she gave into the tears which had been welling up in her throat since the morning – or rather, since Saturday night. She was vaguely aware that Gilbert was saying something; she felt him move and, horrified at the thought that he was trying to free himself from her, frantically grasped at the front of his coat with both her hands. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she managed through her choking sobs. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. Gilbert, I’m sorry.’ He said something, but she was unable to register his words and only shook her head against his chest. This might have gone on forever as far as Anne’s ability to check her own access of misery was concerned, but suddenly she felt Gilbert forcibly tear himself away from her panicked grasp, take her face between his hands, and hold it in an iron grip. She was so startled by both the suddenness of the movement and the directness of his gaze that she momentarily stopped crying and merely looked back at him in dumb bewilderment. ‘Breathe in,’ he said. ‘And then out. Just like me, okay?’ Anne complied, mainly because she would literally have done anything he told her to at that moment if it only meant that he wasn’t going to leave her. To her surprise, after a few moments she felt her body cease to shake, and she realised she was once more capable of thinking more or less clearly. This must have shown in her face, for Gilbert gave her a small, lopsided smile, and asked, ‘Better?’ She nodded. He let go of her face, and she almost cried out to stop him, but controlled herself. It was no use. Nothing was any use now. ‘Let’s sit down, then.’ Gilbert’s manner was carefully calm and collected, and although he still looked pale and extremely wary he no longer had that look in his eyes as though he was on the verge of madness. Anne stood passively by as he looked round and, espying an old tree trunk lying some yards away, put his hand on the small of her back and led her to it as one might a scared child. She could not help the impression that he was careful to sit far enough away so as not to touch her in any way. Well, she didn’t wonder. He must think her filthy enough to contaminate anything she got near to. They sat for a moment in complete silence. At last, taking a sudden resolve, Anne looked up and encountered Gilbert’s eyes. His gaze was level, but she saw that there lurked beneath the surface calm that mad rage of a few moments’ ago, and shuddered involuntarily. ‘You can go,’ she blurted out rather abruptly, afraid of what he might say if he were to be the first to speak. ‘If you want to.’ He stared back blankly. ‘Go?’ ‘Yes. I mean, if you’d rather not be here.’ ‘And what are you going to do then?’ he asked, a sudden sharpness entering his voice. ‘Go back to the edge of that cliff? Is that why you want to get rid of me?’ He sounded – and looked – almost as angry again as he did some minutes previously, and, instinctively, Anne drew away from him a little. ‘Get—rid?’ she stuttered out. ‘I only meant that—‘ ‘You only meant to throw yourself off that cliff, did you? Why?’ he demanded harshly as she merely continued to look back in dumb bewilderment. ‘Why, Anne? Does everything—everything we have mean so little to you?’ ‘I—I never even considered doing it on purpose!’ she countered, stung into speech by the enormity of the error he was making. ‘I just stood there, and then—I don’t know, I just turned giddy and couldn’t—couldn’t move—‘ she stopped, the memory of that awful moment when the fall had seemed inevitable making her voice tremble against her will. ‘How could you think I’d ever do something like that?’ ‘What else could I think?’ Gilbert answered heatedly, standing up and turning upon her fiercely. 'First you go out of the schoolhouse looking—like that, and then when I finally find you, you’re standing on the edge of a bloody cliff—‘ he stopped, running his hands across his face, and turning away. Anne felt very cold all of a sudden. ‘I swear to you, Gil, I’d never do something like that,’ she said quietly, getting hesitatingly to her feet. ‘I swear it. You know I wouldn’t.’ She touched him tentatively on the arm, and when he turned round she suffered yet another shock. Gilbert was crying. His whole face was contorted with suppressed tears, and one was actually rolling down his cheek. Without thinking twice, Anne reached up and brushed it away, and then held her palm against his face. ‘Gil—‘ she whispered, at a loss for words. ‘Gil—‘ He pulled her into him, and held her so tight she could barely breathe. She felt him bury his face in her hair and inhale in a slow, painfully shuddering way. ‘Don’t ever do that again,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Anne, don’t you understand I couldn’t—I can’t lose you, Anne. I can’t—‘ his voice broke a little, ‘I can’t even think about it.’ Her astonishment at those words was so great she pulled away and blurted out, ‘Do you mean you still want to be with me?’ Gilbert stared back in undisguised bewilderment, his arms falling to his sides. ‘What—what on earth do you mean?’  ‘I mean,’ said Anne with painful precision, her cheeks flaming up. ‘That I can’t—I thought you despised me.’ ‘Despised you?’ he repeated, sounding horrified. ‘Anne, are you crazy?’ ‘Well, what was I to think after the look you gave me in the morning, when I—‘ ‘The look I gave you?’ Gilbert interrupted in an incredulous, increasingly heated tone. ‘Anne, I was not giving you any looks, for God’s sake. I barely know what I was doing. I was trying to stop myself from throttling that bloody bastard, I suppose.’ Anne felt her stomach clench. It had come, then – the moment when they openly acknowledged the part played by Billy in this awful mess. She stood silent, looking down at her own tightly clasped hands. She could feel Gilbert’s eyes on herself. ‘Anne,’ he said, in a strained but nonetheless gentle voice. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ She looked up and met his eyes. ‘It wasn’t like he’s making it out to have been,’ she said quietly. ‘It wasn’t anything—anything nearly so odious, Gil.’ His eyes were scanning her face searchingly. ‘It-wasn’t?’ ‘No,’ she went on, feeling as though her face was on fire. She put her hands up, pressing them against her forehead so that she might be screened from Gilbert’s penetrating gaze. ‘He’s lying. He’s never—he’s never even touched me, except—except for my throat,’ she was stumbling over her words now, speaking with increasing speed and incoherence. ‘But that was only—I don’t know, I suppose he was just trying to scare me. But nothing really happened. He didn’t really hurt me. I swear he didn’t, Gil. He’s just talking the way he is because he knows how it’s getting on my nerves, and—and Josie is in on it too, and—‘ She stopped, for she felt Gilbert’s fingers close gently around her wrists and draw her hands away from her face. Immediately and unreasonably, she dropped her gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. ‘Anne.’ She looked up. He was pale and his eyes were angry, but he made an attempt to smile at her. That’s when she began crying. Again. ‘Anne, don’t,’ he said firmly, drawing her into another tight embrace. ‘Don’t cry. I swear to you he’ll never dare even look in your direction again.’ ‘No!’ she exclaimed, freeing herself from his arms and looking rather wild. ‘Don’t you see that’s why I never told you in the first place? I knew you’d want to do something stupid!’ ‘Well, and what did you expect?’ he countered, frowning. ‘He can’t just go on bullying you forever, and perhaps worse—‘ Anne went white. ‘I thought you believed me!’ she gasped, feeling sick to the heart. ‘I thought you believed me when I said there was never anything—anything of that kind! Oh my God, I knew it, I knew it would be like this— You’ll never look at me the same way again now—you’ll always suspect—‘ ‘What are you talking about?’ Gilbert asked in some exasperation. ‘Of course I do believe you, Anne. And nothing—nothing could ever change my feelings for you. You know it.’ ‘I know nothing of the kind!’ she countered, sitting down again and putting her face in her hands. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it— And I know you’ll feel the same, even if you won’t admit it—‘ ‘Admit what? Anne, what are you talking about? You just said he hasn’t—‘ she heard his voice break a little, ‘really hurt you—‘ ‘Because he hasn’t’ she repeated emphatically, finally looking him straight in the eyes. ‘But he—he’s said something—something—‘ She broke off helplessly. Slowly, Gilbert crouched down in front of her, taking her hands in his and looking up at her with extreme earnestness. ‘Anne, whatever it is, I swear to you it won’t matter. You must not be afraid to tell me.’ She looked back at him silently for a moment, trying to steady her breath. ‘Gilbert,’ she said finally, doing her best to speak calmly. ‘Do you think—has it ever occurred to you that we might perhaps—that possibly—that someday you might want to get married to me?’ Gilbert’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpectedness of the question. Then he smiled an unexpected smile. ‘Once or twice an hour it does, yes,’ he said with mock solemnity. Anne, although internally trembling with apprehension, couldn’t help a small, unwilling smile of her own at that. ‘I’m serious,’ she said, making a wry face. ‘What makes you think I’m not?’ he countered with a shrug. ‘Anne, if you insist on knowing the truth, I think that if I was rich enough I could even go to the length of dissuading you from continuing your studies if that meant I’d get to,’ flushing slightly, ‘make you mine sooner. I’m no better than Charlie Sloane really, you see,’ he finished with a smirk. Anne frowned. ‘You wouldn’t do that.’ ‘Well, I can’t do it, anyway. But,’ he added playfully, ‘you, being a demure lady, know nothing of the temptations we base fellows are exposed to. The thought of waiting years before we can be together is hardly exhilarating.’ She suddenly remembered the dreams she’d had lately, featuring Gilbert and not in the least demure in nature, and felt her whole body go uncomfortably warm. ‘Indeed,’ she said with rather exaggerated curtness. ‘I’m extremely sorry we girls don’t have to marry at sixteen the way we did in the old days. So incommoding to you.’ ‘You have no idea,’ he murmured, and reached up to kiss her on the lips. Inflamed as she was by his last words, Anne give herself up to the caress, and kissed him back with the old unrestrained ardour. ‘You really are something, Anne Shirley,’ he breathed into her hair. This phrase brought her back to reality with a thud. All her nerves going suddenly taut again, she disentangled herself from his arms. ‘Yes,’ she said dully, confronting his startled, slightly distracted gaze with a sudden determination. ‘What am I?’ Gilbert looked back at her with raised eyebrows, as though not sure whether she was just talking nonsense or not. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked eventually, his voice confusedly amused. ‘I mean,’ replied Anne stiffly, sitting up straight, ‘don’t you ever wonder who I really am? As in, who my parents were, and what they did for a living, and stuff like that?’ ‘No,’ he said promptly. ‘I don’t.’ She stared at him, and he met her eyes with a level gaze. ‘Don’t look like that,’ he said finally with a small, forced laugh, reaching out again for her hand. ‘It’s not that I don’t care in the bad way. I wish with all my heart I could meet your parents, and you mine, but,’ with a shrug, ‘it just can’t happen, and it’s no use dwelling on it.’ Anne was silent, looking down at their joined hands. ‘Anne, it’s you I fell I love with,’ Gilbert said softly. He drew her closer and, putting his arm around her, tried to look into her downcast eyes. ‘Only you. And you seem to keep thinking I’m going to ask you for some sort of credentials or something. That’s not terribly smart for such a reputedly smart girl, you know,’ he added teasingly. For all his assumed light-heartedness, when Anne looked up at him his eyes were serious and searched her face anxiously. ‘I knew you would talk like this,’ she said with a sigh she couldn’t help. ‘But that’s only because you haven’t really thought about what it means that nobody knows who – what I really am.’ ‘Well, you seem to have done my share of it,’ Gilbert replied with an attempt at a smile. ‘Anne, it really doesn’t in the least—‘ ‘But it does, it does!’ she interrupted impatiently, freeing her hands from his hold and putting them up to her forehead. ‘Can’t you see that you might one day regret that you never knew who you were connecting yourself with? Let’s suppose,’ she went on rather breathlessly, looking back at him and instantly regretting it, he looked so bewildered and also, in some vague way, angry once again. Nevertheless, she went on. ‘Let’s suppose we do get married, and you do get to obtain a medical practice somewhere, and then someone starts some—some odious rumour about me—a rumour neither of us can disprove—because it might be true—‘ ‘What rumour? What are you talking about?’ he asked, frowning. ‘What could anyone possibly have to say about you? You’re an orphan, for God’s sake, not a fugitive criminal!’ It has come, then – the moment when he would forever cease to see her the way he used to. ‘I am not a fugitive criminal,’ Anne said with whatever calmness she could muster, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘But what if some member of my family was?’ ‘It does not matter – as I already told you—‘ Again, he tried to reach out for her, but she moved away. She needed to keep a clear mind, and Gilbert’s touch was rarely conductive to that. ‘Aren’t you afraid heredity might assert itself?’ she asked quickly, before he could say anything more. At that, he looked involuntarily amused. ‘What, afraid that someday you’ll take to shoplifting?’ Then, perceiving her annoyance at the attempt at jest, he added more seriously, ‘Anne, I do not believe such things are hereditary. And if you try and think about it objectively, you’ll believe the same. There are black sheep born into the most honest families, and the other way around.’ Anne waved this away impatiently. ‘Yes. But when someone gets hold of a story, they don’t bother thinking objectively about whether it’s true or not, they go on repeating it until everyone knows it, and believes it, too—‘’ Gilbert’s voice cut into her irrelevancies peremptorily. ‘Anne, what story?’ She looked at him in silence for a moment, and then, feeling unequal to it, looked down at her hands. ‘For example,’ she said quietly, feeling as though each word was being dragged out of her, ‘that my mother was not—that she was not a respectable person. That she was—might have been—a member of a profession which—which— Oh, what’s the use?’ she broke off impatiently, looking up at him with flaming cheeks. ‘I can’t make it sound any better, no matter how hard I try. What I mean is that my mother might have been a prostitute.’ Gilbert’s frown faded from his face, and he looked back at her with a completely blank expression. In the few seconds’ silence which ensued, the thought flitted through Anne’s mind that it was a pity she had not toppled down that cliff after all. ‘Is that what’s Billy’s been tormenting you with?’ he asked eventually, his voice suspiciously neutral. ‘You can’t deny it is a possibility,’ she snapped back promptly. ‘Anne, anything’s a possibility. And it does not—‘ ‘Doesn’t it?’ she cut in with a sort of desperate defiance. ‘Not if someone actually turns out to know it for a fact someday?’ ‘Anne—‘ ‘Well?’ ‘No,’ he said, curtly but with great deliberation. ‘It does not matter. Anne,’ he added more gently, sliding closer to her and taking her face in his hands, ‘it doesn’t matter to me in the least. Do you believe me?’ She did not. She simply daren’t. ‘I—‘ He bent down to kiss her, quick and fierce. ‘Anne, I love you. Nothing can ever change that. Don’t go fretting over this any more. Will you promise?’ ‘I’m not in a position to argue,’ she said evasively, giving him a smile she hoped looked genuine. ‘And will you promise something in return?’ He kissed her again. ‘Anything you want,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Don’t confront Billy about this. Or about anything. Never again.’ She felt his body stiffen, and he looked annoyed as he held himself away to give her a frowning look. ‘Anne—‘ ‘You said anything,’ she pointed out, and as he rolled his eyes at that she went on quickly, ‘Really, Gil, it’s just not worth it. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of a pig and an idiot like him. I don’t want you to use physical violence against anyone,’ she added quietly in afterthought. ‘Not ever. Promise.’ Something in her tone must have struck him, for now he looked concerned rather than annoyed. ‘Anne, you don’t think I would ever use it without a valid cause or – or against someone who was smaller and weaker than me?’ ‘There never is valid cause for violence,’ she replied quietly, looking away. ‘There’s always a different way. Promise.’ He was silent, and she looked up at him. ‘All right,’ he said softly, putting his hand up to stroke her cheek. ‘I promise.’ Anne turned her head to the side and kissed the inside of his palm. When she looked at him again, it was with an arch look in her eyes such as Gilbert hadn’t seen for what seemed like a long time now. ‘What is it?’ he asked, smiling back at her. ‘I just realised we did skip school, after all,’ she replied, giggling. But in her heart, she was far from easy.   ***   Over the next few days, Gilbert kept his promise to keep away from Billy and, since the latter soon wearied of taunting Anne over this particular subject, all seemed to be in a fair way to unalloyed happiness. If Anne did not keep her promise to him – and after all, she never really gave one – not to dwell on dreary possibilities any more, she thought she managed to hide it well enough. She could not help noticing, however, that Gilbert had become oddly quiet, and that there were moments when he got so wrapped up in his thoughts she had to speak twice or thrice before she got his attention. And, of course, she put the worst and to her mind the only possible interpretation on that fact – namely, that he was after all waking up to the full, awful meaning of the odious possibility concerning her origins she had put before him, and was wondering how to break free of his fatal connection with her. On a Sunday two weeks later he did not appear at church. Anne had not seen him the day before either, having been particularly busy about the house, and when the following Monday he was absent from school she felt certain he must be seriously ill and, classes over for the day, promptly turned her steps towards the Blythe farm. The door was opened by Mary. ‘Is Gilbert home?’ Anne asked rather breathlessly. Mary looked surprised. ‘Gilbert went to Charlottetown on Friday evening,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know?’ Anne felt sick. ‘No,’ she replied, hardly knowing what she was saying. ‘I didn’t. Why—I mean, did he go to—for some particular purpose?’ ‘He didn’t tell me,’ replied Mary, and then, smiling, ‘I would have thought it much more likely you would be the one to know.’ Anne somehow managed to smile back, and asked, ‘And—Did he at least say when he’d be back?’ ‘Well, actually he said he hoped he’d be back before today,’ said Mary, frowning a little. ‘But he also said not to worry if he wasn’t.’ ‘Oh,’ said Anne, the terrible certainty that Gilbert had meant to keep his excursion secret from her making her feel cold all over. ‘I see. Well, thank you, Mrs Lacroix. I—I’ll be going. Goodbye.’ She turned to leave, but Mary stopped her with an anxious, ‘Anne, are you all right? You look really pale. Don’t you want to come in and rest for a moment?’ ‘No, thank you, Mrs Lacroix!’ Anne, who only wanted to be alone, replied hastily, giving the older woman a smile over her shoulder. ‘I really need to head home. Thank you and goodbye!’ And before another well-meant enquiry could be made, she was out of the gate and in the road.

To: All employees From: USSure Board of Directors Re: Holiday surprise The Board of Directors wishes to announce this year's winner of the Employee Holiday Drawing. Our congratulations go to Cindy Smith of our Centerton office. She and a guest will receive round trip tickets to any location in Europe plus $250 per day to help offset lodging and meal expenses for a three week vacation. Congrats Cindy. We also want to thank everyone for all the hard work performed on behalf of the company. In addition to any year-end bonuses or raises, the board has authorized a $1000 VISA gift card be made out to every employee and manager. Have a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year. ----- Cindy could hardly believe it when she logged in Tuesday morning and read the announcement twice to confirm she was indeed the winner of the drawing. She was amazed a mere five-year employee was able to win such a wonderful prize. What she also couldn't have imagined was how her coworkers responded to the news. First was her PA Suzanne who came running in a few minutes later. "Cindy, did you see the news? Isn't that great, you lucky bitch!" she laughed. "Yeah, Suze, I can hardly believe it myself. How could I, with just five-years, get so lucky?" "I understand they include every employee who has been with the company for at least a year, so you qualified. Where you gonna go?" "Oh, I haven't even thought about it yet. I'll need to talk with Ted and see what he'd like to do. I bet he wants to go to Sweden and look at all the blonde beauties there, but I'm thinking the Med is more interesting." "Oooh, the Riviera! That sounds so nice. Or even along the Adriatic. Oh, you're so lucky." "Yeah, I agree. I guess we'll just have to plan a bit and decide." Later she received several congratulatory emails and calls from her coworkers, many of whom gave her recommendations as to where she should consider going. Eventually, the excitement died down and she was able to get back to work. She decided to not tell her husband until they got home. That evening she left work a few minutes early and quickly prepared a nice meal. When he arrived, there were lit candles on the dining room table and the overhead lights were off. "What's up, Honey?" he asked as he surveyed the scene. "I have a big surprise for you. Glass of wine?" "Sure. Uh, get a raise?" "Nope. Something more fun, though." "What?" "Have a seat. Our dinner will be ready in five minutes." "Cin, what's going on? You've got me worried." "Relax, Ted, it's all good news. How was your day?" He recounted a fairly boring list of activities as he drained his wine. She then smiled and invited him to the table. After they had finished most of the meal and another glass of wine, she decided to tell him the news. "Honey, are you ready for the surprise? It is a whopper!" "OK, so I'll bite. What is it?" "Your wife won the USSure annual employee drawing!" "What's that?" "Every year they throw all employees' names into the hat and draw out one for a big prize. And I won it!" "What's the prize?" he asked with excitement in his voice. "Your wife, along with a guest, will be traveling to Europe for three weeks next year! And they're paying the airfare and giving a daily allowance of two hundred and fifty bucks!" "Oh, Cindy, that's great! Where will we go?" "Uh, I'm not sure you'll be going with me," she teased. "Maybe I'll ask Jennifer to go with me." "Oh, no you don't!" he laughed. "I insist on going with you." "I don't know. Jennifer is a great gal, could be a good travel companion. Maybe we could find us some nice Italian men..." "Wait a sec! You're actually thinking of leaving me here!" came his exasperated voice. With a twinkle in her eye, she replied, "No, Silly, I'm just kidding. I'd love to go with you. But somewhere around the Mediterranean would be a good, don't you think? Interested?" "Sure! You won it; you choose. So, when do you have to go?" "There is no specific time, I have a full year to pick from. How about summer?" "That would be the best for me. I don't have to teach summer school next year, so I'll be free." "Great, let's start to looking at things and come up with a plan. Why don't you look up Italy and I'll check out France. Oh, Honey, it's going to be so much fun." Over the next few weeks they each spent time online looking up places to visit. While discussing things together they decided they'd most like to really get to know a few places intimately rather than do a big tour and France was their preferred destination. They penciled out a week in Paris and two weeks in southern France along the Riviera. They also chose July, preferring to avoid the worst of the crowds in August. The final details would be settled over the next few months. ----- Their jet flew out of JFK on a beautiful July evening. They flew through the shortened night and arrived at Orly in the early morning, local time. Once on the ground they taxied for what seemed like hours until they reached the terminal. Eventually they made their way through customs and immigration before traveling to the center of Paris. Once there, a taxi took them to their B&B where they stored their luggage before walking to a sidewalk restaurant for a quick meal. After the meal they went back to the room and slept until early morning. The next week was devoted to seeing the sights of Paris. They hit the big museums, rode to the top of the Eifel Tower and visited the Arc de Triomphe. On one day they visited the burned-out ruins of Notre Dame, a sight that brought tears to her eyes. After their week in Paris, they were excited to head to Nice on the Mediterranean coast. They took the bullet train so they could see the countryside up close. In Nice they had a wonderful room in a smaller hotel along the Promenade des Anglais, the main road along the waterfront. Their view from several floors up was delightful and they had good meals in the local restaurants. After two days of exploring in town, they toured around the area and visited the old mountain town of Eze. It was high on a steep little mountain and featured wonderful art galleries, good restaurants and spectacular views of the Mediterranean. With her binoculars Cindy looked carefully at the coast below her and could see attractive beaches and steep bluffs. "Honey, look at the coast. We need to hit the beaches, don't you think?" "Sure, let's do that tomorrow," he replied. Then in a softer voice he whispered in her ear, "You know, some of those beaches are topless. Interested?" "Wellllll, I'm not going topless, but if you want to ogle cute little mademoiselles, that'd be OK with me. Ya know, I believe some of the sausages packed into those little Speedos could be worth looking at, too," she laughed. "OK, then tomorrow it is." That evening they looked at their tourist info and found Paloma Beach several kilometers from their hotel. It looked easy to get to and there were restaurants nearby, so they decided it would be their first beach on the Med. Cindy woke up with a tiny bit of nervousness. She knew there would be topless women at that beach and worried she might need to take her top off just to be allowed to go there. She didn't consider herself to be a prude and enjoyed a ribald joke now and then and she very much enjoyed sex with her husband, as she had with a few boyfriends before him. But she always considered herself to be a bit on the modest side. She never let her boobs hang out over a low neckline, would always wear a bra if her blouse was too sheer and generally preferred one-piece bathing suits. She, however, had been persuaded by Suzanne back home to get a fairly risqué bikini. Cindy kept going for more cloth on her bikinis but Suzanne kept pushing her to the little, teeny bikinis, some with merely a thong for a bottom. After much haggling, Cindy agreed to buy a fairly daring one which featured four small triangles, but she refused to let a strip of dental floss be the only thing covering her rear! She quietly got up, quickly showered and shaved herself down to a landing strip. After drying, she slipped on the bikini, a blouse and shorts. She had hidden the bikini from Ted and couldn't wait to see his face when she showed it to him on the beach. They had a leisurely breakfast and made their way to the beach, arriving around eleven. Cindy could barely believe her eyes. Sure, she'd known there'd be topless women, but she couldn't believe how many. It seemed nearly all of the women were casually sunbathing, walking or swimming with no top on. And no one seemed self-conscious at all. There was no leering, though she did have to nudge Ted with her elbow when he gawked a bit too long. "Honey, it's ok to look, but don't stare, OK?" "I'll do my best, Sweetheart, but it's tough for a red-blooded American male not to look," he laughed. They made their way along the beach until they came to the furthest section where there weren't too many sunbathers. After laying their towels down, she stood a few feet from Ted and slowly peeled her shirt and shorts off. "Holy shit, Honey, I can't believe you're wearing that." "Like it?" she asked smiling at him. "Oh, you know I do. It's attractive enough to make me even forget about all these boobs around here." "Oh, you know just what to say. I'm glad you like it. Thank you, Sweetheart, but I know you still want to peek, so go ahead. God, some of these beautiful women could turn even me on." "They're just eye candy, Honey, but you're the one for me. Here, let's get some sun cream on and relax." They applied the cream to each other's backs and stretched out. It was a warm, almost hot day with plenty of sun. Eventually the area around them became more crowded with other beach-goers and most of the women were topless. After awhile Cindy became a bit self-conscious about the fact that she had a top on. She even thought about peeling it off, but just couldn't quite do it. She had grown up in a fairly conservative household where everyone dressed modestly and sexual issues were swept under the rug. It had even taken her many months before she was comfortable having sex with the lights on. Eventually she rolled over onto her stomach and untied the back and neck straps. "Dear, could you put a bit more cream on my back, please?" "Sure. If you want to, turn over. I'll put some on your front," he teased. "No, I don't think I could. You know me, I'm just a little too shy." Once the cream was on, she found herself drifting off to sleep. It was sometime later when a beach ball bounced off her butt. Startled and confused, she sat up to see what happened. Two little children were running to her laughing in French and holding out their hands for the ball. Cindy took the ball and tossed it back to them just as she realized her top was on the towel and her breasts were out in the open. Suddenly, she dropped back down to the towel with a little cry of surprise. She described what had happened to Ted when he asked her what the problem was. "Well, Honey, did the world end when your nipples got some sunshine?" he teased. "Nooo," she replied emphatically, "But it's just not for me. Sorry, Sweetheart, you won't be seeing these girls out on the beach." With that, she re-tied her strings and rolled over to get some more sun on her front. Once she got settled, she started to think about what had happened. Her boobs were exposed for all to see and Ted was right: The world had not ended. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it had been OK and nothing to be ashamed about. She liked her boobs, her ass, her entire body. Truly, there was no reason to hide it away, was there? Once she acknowledged that, she felt a gradual, weird change overcoming her. It was if a lust dimmer-switch in her brain slowly turned from off to full on. Sexual images drifted through her mind: tender licks on her nipples, raw, earthy fucking, anonymous oral sex; the list went on and on. She realized her heart was racing, her nipples were beaded and she was getting wet! "What's going on?" she mused to herself. "How can I be getting excited?" Those wild sexual thoughts continued to run through her mind as she sunned herself and, try as she might, she was unable to take her mind off of them. She would look around at the beach to try and distract herself, but then an Adonis with a large bulge in his Speedo swimsuit or even a beautiful woman would walk by and her mind would tear off in a new direction. "What would it be like to have him come over and take me without permission? What would she taste like and how would her screams of delight sound in French?" After an hour or so of unrestrained mental stimulation, she had enough and knew she needed to get relief. "Uh, Sweetheart, could we go now? I've had enough sun for today, OK?" "Well, sure, I guess. We've not been here very long, though." "I know, but if you come back to the room with me now, you may just be surprised. I've got a certain itch..." "Well, in that case, yeah, sure, let's head back," he chuckled. Once back in their room, she launched herself at him as soon as the door was closed. "Off with those trunks, NOW!" she demanded as she peeled her dripping, wet bikini bottoms from her crotch. Once Ted was stripped, she nudged him back to the bed, pushed him down and crawled on top. A few rubs of her wet slit on his cock and he was hard as a rock. "I want you in me, you good with that?" "Of course. What's got you all horny anyway?" "Now is not the time for talking," she replied as she slid down on him. He felt so good, stretching and filling her, causing her to moan with desire. She started to push herself up and down, driving her clit onto his pubic bone, stimulating herself more and more. That last hour on the beach fantasizing had been like an hour of foreplay. Never had she gotten so excited prior to sex and so, after just a few strokes and in what seemed like an instant, she crashed through a wild orgasm. Once she caught her breath and recognized Ted had yet to come, she got off him and turned around, riding him in a reverse cowgirl. She knew he loved that position and wanted him to enjoy their time together as had she. She began to raise herself up and down again, slower this time, but still with passion and energy. Fantasies of fucking the Adonis raced through her mind but Ted's moaning brought her back to the present. He grabbed her by the hips, thrusting up and into her as she plunged down, harder, deeper and faster. Even though she had already had an orgasm, she felt another rising from her pelvis. Her right hand reached down and rubbed her clit in time with the thrusting. "Oh, God, yes," she moaned as she felt herself reach the point of an inevitable orgasm and heard him grunting like he usually did just prior to his own orgasm. "Oh, yes, yes, YES," she screamed as she fell off the orgasmic cliff and drifted down, spasming with intense pleasure. Eventually she collapsed down onto him to catch her breath. Ted gently rubbed her ass cheeks as they both recovered. She rolled off of him and turned to him to snuggle up. "Mmm, nice," she whispered. "Yeah, really nice," he responded. After a few seconds he went on, "Uh, what got into you, anyway? At one point you're pulling your top back on and then an hour later, I'm being dragged up here for super-hot sex." Even though they had been married for several years, Cindy could still be a bit shy talking about sex. She hemmed and hawed not wanting to admit that somehow being topless, even for a few seconds, turned her on. "Oh, we're on vacation and on the Med, so a roll in the hay was something that seemed right, somehow." "A roll in the hay? Honey, you just about raped me, not that I'm complaining, mind you." "Ted, Sweetie, it's hard sometimes for me to talk about this, you know, about sex. Let's just say I wanted you and, well, I had you. OK?" "Yeah, OK," he replied as he kissed her neck. "You know, what we just had was a wonderful experience. A romp like that with my wife, well, that was one of the wildest experiences of my life." "Yeah, me too," she whispered back to him. After a few minutes she giggled in his ear, "But don't go thinking I'll be doing that anytime soon again." "Why not?" "Gotta keep things like that special, now, don't we?" "Honey, every time we have sex is special. I can't believe sometimes how lucky I was to find you and convince you to marry me." "You didn't have to convince me. I was hoping for months you'd pop the question. I loved you so much, just like I do now. And I'm lucky too." That evening they had a tasty dinner at an open-air restaurant right on a large avenue. The service was impeccable, the food was delicious and the wine was some of the best they had ever tasted. After dinner they walked hand-in-hand for over an hour along the Promenade before retiring to their room. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" Ted asked her as they settled in. "Oh," she paused, "Uh, another day at that beach, if that's OK with you?" "Sure, let's hit the Chagall Museum in the morning and then we can head back down. OK?" "Yeah, that's great. And you'll get to see more French boobs again." "Now, wait a sec. You, not me, you were the one asking for another beach day." "Are you saying you don't wanna see French boobs?" "Honey, I'm a guy. Sure, I wanna see tits. But if you want to go to another beach, just let me know." With her mind racing about the events of the day and how excited she got, she decided to let him off the hook. After all, she enjoyed the topless beach, too. "No, Ted, let's go back. I'm good with it, OK?" "Sure. Wear your bikini under some nice clothes and we can head out from the museum without coming back here." The next morning dawned bright and sunny. They had a quick breakfast and after packing some beach gear, they headed up to the museum. Around noon they ate lunch on the museum grounds and then went down to the beach. It didn't seem as busy as the day prior and they did not have to walk so far to find an open area. They stripped off their clothes, applied sun cream to each other and stretched out to catch some sun. Cindy started out on her stomach and untied her bikini top while Ted lay on his back. About twenty minutes later he suggested they needed to turn over to prevent a sunburn. He rolled over onto his stomach and she rolled over onto her back. Her top was still untied and lying on her, barely covering her breasts. Suddenly, she knew what she would do. Casually she let her hand drift up, grab a string and pull the top completely free from her chest. Cindy, little conservative Cindy from Nowheresville, Iowa, who grew up in the Evangelical First Faith Fundamentalist Church, was stretched out topless on the beach! The sun caressed her breasts, the breeze tickled her nipples and she enjoyed every second of it. Again, she felt herself getting excited, much like the day before, first with heaviness in her pelvis and then moisture in her pussy. She peeked down her torso and realized her nipples were also erect, a sure sign of her excitement. At first Ted did not know what she had done. He was on his stomach with his head turned away from her so he could watch the topless French girls, she presumed. Quietly she applied sun cream to the girls while secretly rubbing and squeezing her nipples. This caused her to get increasingly excited and she wondered if she could even climax doing this. Once with an old boyfriend she'd had an orgasm when he was sucking her nipples, but never since had nipple play caused such excitement. She rolled her head over and through her sunglasses saw an older man staring at her lecherously. "Oops, I guess I better stop this," she thought to herself. She brought her hands down to her sides and closed her eyes under the sunglasses. Once again sexual fantasies ripped through her mind. She dreamed of wild and crazy scenarios; being dragged up to a nearby villa for an afternoon of wild, anonymous sex, swimming out to a nearby yacht for drinks and sex on the deck with a French starlet and even having a threesome with Ted. Cindy kept trying to focus on other things but without success. After a bit Ted announced it was time to turn over. She sat up and waited for him to see her. While rolling over he suddenly stopped and stared at her. "Uh, Honey, did you forget something?" "No, I didn't. I've been like this ever since we last turned over. Like it?" "Uh, yeah, definitely! Cin, you have nothing to be ashamed about. You can compete with these French girls just fine." "It's not a competition, but I'm glad you like it. It's nice. The breeze on my nipples tickles, but nothing like when I put on the sun cream," she whispered. "Wait a cotton-pickin' minute. Were you doing more than just rubbing on some cream?" "Mmm, maybe, a little," she giggled, "But that guy over there kept staring at me, so I stopped. Guess who's still horny?" "Honey, I've never seen you so, uh, bold, I guess I should say." "What? I've tried some kinky things with you..." "No, I mean outside or where others can see you." "Yeah, I don't know what's got into me, but I do know what I want in me," she responded. "Maybe you'll get lucky again when we get back to our room." "Sounds to me like you wanna get lucky, too!" "Umm-hmm," she replied. "Hey, uh, I need to hit the restroom." With that, she stood and strolled towards the little building housing a kiosk and the restrooms. It felt so freeing! She had on just her bikini bottoms and nothing else. Through her sunglasses she noted a few guys glanced at her, but there was no gawking, no leering. Cindy really liked her breasts. They were a generous B-cup or even a C-cup with certain bras. Their shape was perfect, sitting proud on her chest with just enough fullness that she could sense her breasts sway slightly as each foot hit the sand. She particularly liked her nipples, little eraser tips on fairly petite areolas. Knowing her breasts were the envy of many women, she straightened her posture even more as she strode to the restrooms. Once there, she slid into a stall and took care of business. As she sat, she realized her heart was racing a mile-a-minute from the excitement and as she patted herself dry with the tissue, she found there was far more moisture than the usual few drops of urine. After dropping the tissue into the water, she slid her finger along her crack and up to her swollen clit. "Oh, God, my clit needs this," she thought to herself. She reached down and let a bit of moisture collect on her fingertip and then rubbed her clit again. Cindy couldn't believe she was actually rubbing herself in a public bathroom. She knew guys would sometimes masturbate in restrooms, but girls? Suddenly she heard another person come into the restroom, run the water in the sink a few seconds and leave. "Was she alone?" she wondered as she peeked under the stall dividers and saw no feet. "I can't believe I'm doing this!" she mused as she rubbed herself in earnest. Very quickly she got more and more excited and her breath was coming in little gasps, which she tried to stifle, as she began an all-out attack on her clit. Cindy rarely masturbated, in part due to her upbringing. Sure, she experimented when she was younger but in her married years, she probably polished her pearl no more than once or twice a year, usually when Ted had been gone on a trip for more than a week. Here she was rushing herself towards an orgasm purely because she was excited from her walk across the beach. Just as her excitement started to crest into a full-blown orgasm, the door opened. Cindy couldn't stop herself so she clenched her teeth and tried to control her breathing as her orgasm tore through her body. By the time the door in the next stall was closed, she was a bit more in control and could breathe easier with only a bit of gasping. The woman in the next stall suddenly spoke out loud in French. Cindy didn't answer and after ten seconds or so she heard the same phrase again. "I'm sorry,' she managed to say in a calm voice, "I don't speak French." "Oh, oui, oui. I ask are you good? You OK?" "Yes, yes, I'm fine." "You sounded seeck." "No, I'm not sick, but thank you for asking." She stood, disposed of the toilet paper ring and pulled up her bikini bottoms. Once she left the stall, she quickly washed her hands and walked back out into the bright Mediterranean sun. "Did I just do that?" she asked herself. "Jill out in a bathroom? What would Ted say if he knew?" Then she got worried. She knew Ted had an incredible nose and could easily smell her excitement. "Uh-oh, what am I gonna do?" She decided to act as if nothing happened and to move her towel to his opposite side, downwind of him. "You sure took your time. Was it crowded?" "Oh, a little bit," she lied. "Uh, Honey, that guy over there was staring at me earlier. Mind if I move to your other side?" she asked as she dragged her towel over. Once she settled onto the towel her husband leaned over to whisper into her ear, "You know, I kinda think you're liking this, huh?" "Yeah, I'm getting used to it..." "I know I like it." "But you've got dozens of cute mademoiselles to look at. Why is it a big deal that I'm topless?" "Honey, sure I like to look, but you, you're the one for me. Just seeing you braless can get me going, as you know. And this, wow, it's got me really going! If I could, I'd roll you over right now and have my way with you." "I think it would be a fight," she giggled, "As to who would attack who first." A few hours later as they approached their hotel's elevators she whispered, "Last one in the room has to go down on the other!" There was a mad scramble as two elevators arrived at the same time, she took one and he took the other. Up on their floor, the elevators arrived at the same time and the two rushed down the hall and stumbled into the room with her just in front of him. "I won! Now come on over here," she said as she pulled off her top before peeling down her shorts and bikini bottoms in one, fell swoop. Ted went over to her, knelt on the floor and started to eat her out. As his tongue ravaged her slit and clit, she moaned while pushing his head tighter to her. Within seconds she was rolling from one orgasm to another, 'skimming,' as she called it, until her knees buckled and she fell back onto the bed. "Honey, easy, I'm getting a bit too sensitive, what with my orgasm earlier and now these..." "Your what?" he looked up at her with a girlcum-covered face. "Oops," she giggled, "I guess I, uh, I guess I might have admitted something..." "I thought that trip to the john was a bit too long. Did you rub one out in there?" "Umm-hmm," she admitted. "What has gotten into you, anyway?" "Oh, Ted, I was so damn horny! Being topless is, well, it's super exciting for me. The light breeze on my nipples, the sun warming my boobs, the freedom from shame... I don't know, but it got me going a little bit yesterday, but today: Wow!" "Ooo-kaaay," he responded slowly, "I'm learning a lot about you here." "So am I! I can't believe it myself. Now, Honey, you still haven't had yours. Do you want me to do you?" "I'll tell what I want. Since you obviously already played with yourself, I want to watch you do it again, then you can give me a BJ. OK?" "I'd be a little embarrassed to do that in front of you..." "Why? It's a perfectly safe and normal activity, one you have done already today. And I think it is a hell-uv-a turn on." "Alright. I'll do it. But you can't touch yourself. You're just gonna have to watch," she said as she pulled herself up to the head of the bed. Once she rearranged her pillows she stretched out, let her legs slip apart and teased him, "You get to sit there on the corner, but no closer or I'll stop." Then with her eyes closed, she let her mind drift back to the beach. In no time at all she had moisture pooling below and a fullness in her pelvis. With her index and middle fingers, she parted her lips, moistened the digits and slipped them up to her clit. Cindy didn't masturbate very often, but she did know what worked the best: two fingers together rubbing little circles right over her clit. As she began the round and round motion, she could hear her lower lips making wet noises. It all felt so good and she found herself rising quickly to another orgasm. Eventually she let herself ride just shy of coming, prolonging that fabulous sensation of pre-orgasmic tension. "Put your fingers inside," Ted whispered. She opened her eyes and glanced at him. His hands were by his side and he sported a raging hard-on. "I normally don't. I like it this way." "Keep doing that, but use your other hand. Go ahead. Try it." As requested, she reached down with her left hand and curled her middle finger inside, eventually reaching the slightly knobby area in the front of her canal. This sent wild stabs of excitement deep into her pelvis. She felt herself start to lose control as she circled her clit and probed her G-spot, so she eased off just a bit. Again, and again, she brought herself to the edge of orgasm and let herself slide back. After several minutes of this self-imposed torture, she opened her eyes and looked at Ted. She could see pure lust etched on his face and his throbbing cock jutting out in front of him. Watching him and seeing how he looked at her suddenly upped her own stimulation immensely. Even though she had practically stopped rubbing her clit altogether, knowing he was looking at her felt as if she were still rubbing herself vigorously. His watching her sent her over the edge. With deep gulps of air and flushing across her upper torso she came with loud moans, having the best masturbation orgasm of her life. She took in several breaths and became lightheaded for a few seconds before her body settled down. "Whew, Honey, that was..." "Good?" he asked. "No, not good, but great! One of the best ever." "You sure looked like you were enjoying it." "Umm-hmm. I did indeed," she responded. "What about you? Want a BJ?" "You know I do. Take a few seconds, let yourself recover." "I'm good to go, Sweetheart. Lean back." She expertly applied all her skill to bring him teasingly to his own shuddering orgasm. After a few minutes she stretched out beside him and stared at the ceiling. As she lay there, she realized being looked at, being watched wasn't a little bit exciting; it was actually a huge turn on. Due to her upbringing, she had not been inclined to experiment much sexually when she became active. The old idea that sex was for procreation could still niggle in her brain even though intellectually she understood sex was also for loving and pleasure. But on that day on the Riviera, she experienced pleasure beyond anything she could have ever believed possible. "Cin, what's going on in your mind?" "Oh, just remembering about how turned on I got. And that last, big 'O', oh my God, I still can't believe it." "Why were you so turned on, hmm?" "I kept thinking about being topless for all the world to see. Then, we come in here and you were watching me. Ted, I couldn't believe how that me going from fast to supersonic." "So, little Cindy from Iowa is now an exhibitionist? What gives?" "Ted, I have never thought about it 'til now. Maybe it's because I was suppressed so much growing up. You know, Honey, you have brought me a long way in my sexual awakening. Remember when I still needed the lights off? Well, I certainly don't need that anymore, do I?" she laughed. Suddenly she realized Ted was getting hard again. She was still wet and still excited so she leaned over him, licked his cock to full stiffness and crawled on top, facing his feet. She gently lowered herself onto him and started to thrust up and down while gently rubbing her clit. Ted grabbed her hips and helped pull down as he thrusted up into her. This went on for some little while until she felt him slide his hand over her butt. She didn't think much about it until she felt him rubbing right around her hole. Cindy had never been interested in anal sex but she found herself suddenly getting very excited. His rubbing right around her anus sent lusty signals to her brain. The harder he rubbed, the better it felt. It wasn't a conscious decision, but she suddenly heard herself say, "Stick it inside." There was a pause when the hand was removed from her butt, however once it returned, an obviously wettened digit was slid right into her. "OMG!" she thought, "That is absolutely fantastic." She gently forced herself back to the finger and deeper onto him, all the while rubbing her clit. Within half a minute she found herself screaming towards yet another orgasm, moaning and panting with lust. Ultimately, she found herself experiencing yet another massive "O" while feeling Ted thrusting wildly below her. Wild waves of extreme pleasure coursed through her body and flashes of light raced in front of her closed eyes while she vaguely heard loud screams coming from somewhere. Once the waves passed through her, she collapsed onto Ted's legs, breathing deeply and trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Hon, did you hear screams next door a few minutes ago?" she finally asked him. "Uh, no," he responded and paused for a few seconds before going on. "Sweetheart, that was you." "No effin' way. I never make much noise, you know that!" "You're right, usually you don't. But just now, well, you did." "Hmm. Amazing," she whispered, more to herself than to Ted. Then she went on, "Shower? Then we need to plan dinner." After they cleaned up and had dinner at a nice little bistro, they returned to their room. Once there they kicked around some plans for the next day. "Wanna hit the beach again?" Ted asked her. "I don't know if I could tolerate it," she chuckled. "Maybe I need a day off." "It's your vacation, you get to decide what you want to do. I'll tag along wherever you lead us." "All I know is while we are here, I want to do more topless bathing. And," she went on, "I think you'll want me to, also!" "No doubt about it. I'm more than glad to help you relieve any sudden tension," he laughed. "Good. So, let's sight-see tomorrow, OK?" They planned a day trip to Antibes, a smaller city to the west of Nice. They visited the Picasso museum, walked along the coast, looked on with amazement at the dozens of varieties of olives in the farmers market and spent time at the city's history museum. By evening they were back in Nice having another fabulous meal on the Promenade. For awhile Cindy didn't say much and seemed to be looking off into space. Finally, Ted asked her about it and she began to talk. "Ted, Honey, I don't want you to get worried or anything, but you need to know something. I've been mulling this over all day long and it might sound crazy, but here goes: I love this exposure thing. And I need more of it. It seems to have triggered something in me, something I can't deny." "Ooo-kaay," he responded slowly. "Anything else?" "This is kinda embarrassing, but I need to, uh, I want to, uh, you know, go all the way." "All the way how? Nude?" "Yeah, totally starkers. I know that sounds kinda wild, given how I grew up and how I been with you up 'til now, but I wanna try it." "I see. You're sure?" "Yeah. It's keeps running around in my mind and until I try it, I'll never get past it. So, yeah, I wanna do it." "I sure didn't see any completely nude people at Paloma, did you?" Cindy shook her head 'No' before he went on. "So, I guess we'll need to look up nudist beaches and maybe go to one, let you try it, huh?" Cindy launched herself at him saying, "You'd do that for me? Really? Oh, Ted, you're the best guy a girl could ever wish for. You won't be upset knowing other guys, uh, other men will be lookin' at me?" "No, Honey, I won't. What I want is for you to explore anything you want, to find yourself and if it means walking bare-assed down a beach, well, I'm all for it." "You'll need to be nude too..." "Yeah, I figured as much. You know I've never been as modest as you. I've skinny dipped before, so I'm OK with it. Here, let's google it." They spent the next thirty minutes looking up nude beaches on the coast. Eventually they found one within a two-hour drive from their hotel, a few kilometers outside of St. Tropez. They decided to rent a car for the day and not rely on public transportation. That night she spent extra time in the shower again shaving her legs and all but her landing strip, which she trimmed short. She was so excited about the next day that she had trouble relaxing but eventually after a little bit of wine and some snuggling with Ted, she drifted off. The next morning dawned clear and bright. They quickly dressed with summer clothes over their bathing suits, ate breakfast and went downstairs to pick up the car they had ordered. Ted drove while Cindy helped interpret the map and follow the GPS directions. In about two hours they were pulling into a parking area. Once out of the car, they strolled hand-in-hand to the beach. "I know I want to do this, but I'm still a little nervous," she admitted. "Oh, you'll do fine, and just think what this will do to you," he chuckled. As they made their way, they saw people wearing bathing suits, sometimes topless, but no nudists. Suddenly Cindy was nervous. "Maybe it's not a nudist beach after all," she thought to herself. Once on the sand they strolled a bit to the west where there were fewer people. Suddenly they both saw the same sight at the same time. Here on beach towels were a few couples absolutely naked, stretched out and enjoying the sun. "Whew," she said quietly, "I was getting nervous I'd be the only one here." "Nah, you're in the clear now, Honey. Let's just stretch out here and slip these clothes off." "You say that like we were in private," she giggled as she spread out her towel. She pulled off her top and shorts and sat on the towel. After looking around a few seconds she untied her bikini top and let it slip to the ground and with a "Here goes," she stretched out and slipped off her bottoms as Ted shucked down his shorts. She was nude, absolutely totally nude! It felt so invigorating, so freeing, so natural. She asked Ted to put sun cream on her back and butt and did the same for him. She stretched out on her stomach and faced the shore. Her heart was beating fast and hard, she could feel her nipples dig into the towel and her breathing came in little gasps. After a minute or two she became aware of the breeze tickling her cheeks. It seemed to slip up her crack and spread over her butt, much like a lover's hands might. It teased and caressed her, but she still wanted more. As discretely as possible, she let her legs splay apart a foot or so. The breeze now directly played with an area that had never seen sunlight, tickling it much like Ted did when he would blow on her right before eating her out. It felt wonderful! And she was also aware anyone walking by could see her most private of places. This knowledge, along with the breeze, suddenly sent her into sexual overdrive. Wild sexual images teased through her mind as she moistened so much it oozed slightly out from between her lips. Her nipples under her felt like she was lying on pebbles. Her pelvis felt an aching hollowness that usually occurred as she was rapidly getting excited such as when Ted would lightly stroke her lips and clit. Eventually the sexual stimulation proved to be overpowering. She stirred a bit and decided to turn over. Once on her back she took sun cream and started to coat herself from head to toe. Her fingers seemed to slow as she rubbed her beaded nipples. Once she looked around and saw nobody looking directly at her, she dragged her fingernails across the nipples which shot sheer lust to her pussy. Her hands next drifted south, spreading cream on her belly. She bypassed the area around her pussy and coated her legs before deciding she needed to make sure she did not burn her sensitive pelvic skin. Taking small dollops of cream, she slowly coated her lower belly and alongside her pussy. Her clit seamed to scream at her, begging to be touched. She so desperately wanted to touch herself, but to do so in public was clearly too much. She took a tiny dab of cream and slowly rubbed it along her landing strip, rubbing it into her hair, making sure she didn't burn the sensitive skin barely covered by her clipped hair; at least, that's what she tried to convince herself. After a couple of rubs she took another bit of cream and rubbed it lower, right above her slit and clit. It felt so good! Her body begged for release. "Honey," she whispered to Ted, "Turn over." "Sure, what's up?" "I am so fuckin' horny I can hardly stand it. What am I gonna do?" "I don't know. How bad is it?" "If there weren't people around here, I'd have already been on top of you, that's how bad!" "Yeah, well, you can't do that, now, can you?" "Noooo, but what can I doooo?" came the plaintive cry. Ted sat up and looked around. Sure, there were scattered nude sunbathers but there were none near them. Still, he didn't see how she could 'take care of business.' "Honey, you're stuck. I don't see how you can get relief without getting caught." "Dammit, I'm so horny, I'm about to go to the bathroom over there..." "Remember you almost got caught last time. You want to risk it again?" "No, plus they're usually not the cleanest of places" came the faint reply. A few seconds later she went on, "Well, if I can't do anything, I might as well try to forget about it, plan for tonight and get a tan. Put some more cream on my back, please." Ted sat next to her and applied the cream to her back after she stretched back on her stomach. As he rubbed her, she purred her contentment. "It's nice," she murmured. He started to apply sun cream to her lower back and upper buttocks and her breathing became more irregular and deeper. "Mmm, good," came the muffled words. As he moved lower, he could sense she was thrusting her butt upwards with each stroke of his hand. Eventually, as he was rubbing directly on her ass, she said, "Don't forget the crack. Don't wanna get a burn there." He applied more cream to his right hand and leaned over her a bit. As he let his fingers rub her cheek, the thumb trailed deep into her crack. "Mmm," she hummed. "A little harder, please." Pushing harder and harder only got her to moan softly and push her butt higher to meet his strokes. His thumb trailed right across her butt hole to her obvious delight. "Oooh, yeah, do that again." He kept stoking her butt while letting his thumb trail across her rosebud. Then he became aware of her shifting around a bit before he saw she had slipped her left arm under her. After he casually glanced around to be sure no one was watching, he looked down to see her left fingertips working feverously on her slit. "Uh, Honey, are you...?" "Yeah," she whispered back, "No one can tell, can they?" "I don't think so." "Good, sit just like that, like you're just putting cream on me, but keep that thumb where it is." Ted applied more pressure to her hole while she fingered herself from below. He could see she was getting increasingly excited and before he knew it, she closed her eyes tightly, creases crossed her brow and a deep, red flush crept across her back. Her body went into spasms, spasms which she obviously tried to control, but a moan still escaped from her lips. Cindy had climaxed out in the open, in front of everybody! Ted glanced around and there were no stares or looks of concern, indeed everything looked absolutely calm, everything except his cock, that is. Rubbing her and watching her had caused him to get a serious hard on. He slowly took his hand off her butt and rolled onto the towel next to her, forcing his cock into the sand with a groan. "What's wrong, Sweetheart?" "Watching you come was so hot, now I've got a bit of a problem." "Oh, so now you need to relief, right?" "It'd be nice, but let me relax a bit and I'm sure it will pass. No sense in us getting caught." "Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered as she rubbed his back, "I was kinda selfish there..." "Nah, it's OK. I'll remember that scene for my spank bank for a long, long time. Now, let's just enjoy the sun," he replied as he tried to relax onto the towel. After half an hour she told him, "I'm too hot, so I'm going in the water. OK?" "Yeah, go ahead, but I shouldn't be seen in my current state. Have fun." Cindy walked slowly to the water. She glanced around and didn't see anyone staring at her. She felt so free, so open, so bare. Once at the water she waded in until the water lapped at her pussy. The splashing of the water caused her to get excited once more. As she waded out into the deeper water her mind told her she needed to come again and her pussy demanded attention. Once the water was over her boobs, she drifted her hand down to her pussy. "I can do it right here, no one will ever know." She found that the seawater was not quite as slick as her own juices, but it didn't matter. She was so excited and so in need of another orgasm that just rubbing her two fingers around in circles right over her clit was more than enough to get her rapidly racing towards another orgasm. She looked around herself and seeing no bathers nearby, she turned facing the sea and waded up to her neck. Her busy hand and arm were hidden from view and she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. Faster and faster she rubbed until those usual shocks of desire rose from her pussy to her brain. She had to clench her teeth and force herself to stay as calm as possible as her second orgasm of the day tore through her body. As it subsided her head hung down a bit and was splashed with a tiny wave. Sputtering and laughing to herself, she turned towards shore and swam lazily around. Once her heart and pussy had settled down, she slowly made her way to shore and casually walked like Venus rising from the sea over to their towels. "Enjoy it?" asked Ted. "You have no idea," she laughed quietly. "No! You didn't!" "I most certainly did. You should try it." "Only if you come with me, no pun intended." "Sure, let's go," she replied as she led him, half hard on and all, to the water. Once submerged to their chests they swam around a bit. At one point they came together and she kissed him deeply while he wrapped his arms around her. "Am I feeling someone waking up?" she whispered in his ear. "Umm-hmm. Never fell completely asleep. Feels good, actually." "Let me make him feel better," she said as she slid her hand between them and grabbed his cock. "Remember how I got myself off on the beach? Remember rubbing my butt hole? Did it get you excited, hmm?" As she kept talking to him and reminding him of her episode on the beach, he developed a powerful erection. She would grab it, rub a bit and then swim a bit away from him before returning. "You're such a tease," he grumbled. "Yeah, kinda, but I don't want people to think we're doing anything out here. Maybe you need to help yourself a little bit, too." He would stroke himself a bit and let her when she swam by. On one occasion she sank into the water and took him into her mouth for a few seconds. "Oh, God, you are a she-devil," he complained when she re-emerged laughing at him. "What's the matter, Honey?" she taunted him. "Go ahead, get yourself off, you'll never be able to go up the beach unless you do. Here, turn out towards the water," she said as she stood next to him. "Now, take that cock of yours and give him some relief. I wanna watch." Ted had had enough. He needed to come in the worst way, so he grabbed himself and quickly stroked to a powerful climax. After he had recovered a few seconds, she turned to him and asked, "Now, aren't you feeling better? Too bad you polluted the Med," she laughed. "And now that it's getting smaller, I hope no fish decides it's a worm." They swam around a bit before walking through the shallow water to the beach and their towels, where they stretched back out to enjoy the sun. Every twenty minutes or so they would turn over and Cindy found being on her back with her boobs and pussy displayed for all to see was, by far, the most exciting to her. Still, she managed to keep her lust under better control than earlier in the day. By four pm they were aware they had more than enough sun and decided to return to Nice. After sitting up and slipping on their outer clothes, they stuffed their bathing suits and gear into their tote bags and wandered back to the car. For Cindy the drive back seemed to last forever and they couldn't get there fast enough. She urged Ted to no waste any time until he teased her and said he wanted to eat dinner first. "You know they don't even open restaurants until seven or eight, so we have time to go to our room and still get dinner." By the time they got back, dropped off their car and made it to the room Cindy was fit to be tied. "I want you and need you right now," she demanded as the key card slid into the slot. "Uh-uh, not so fast. Gotta get rid of the sun cream. Shower first," he said. "OK, but I'll shower with you," she replied as she peeled her clothes off and darted into the stall. Once the water was on, he stepped inside to find her washing her hair. From behind he reached around and to tease her nipples before his hands went down to play with her clit. Cindy moaned as she tried to finish rinsing her hair as quickly as possible. Ted kept massaging her clit, round and around, but would back off before she came. "You're such a shit," she laughed. "Too bad. That's all you get," he laughed with her. "We still need to wash this cream off of us." They washed each other quickly, leaving her very frustrated, and stepped out to dry and get dressed. After wandering around the streets, they found an attractive restaurant to have dinner. At the restaurant they were able to talk quietly about their day. "Oh, Honey, that was so much fun. I can't believe I did it." "I can't believe how this exposure thing has got you turned on. Wow." "Me, either. But there's something about it that just gets to me. I know most nudists don't consider nudism as a sexual thing so much as a general lifestyle thing, but for me, well, it just cranks my engine." "Yeah, I see that. I wonder what your father would say if he knew you were doing this." "Dad? What about Mom? She's the real prude. She hardly even gave me the basics of the birds and the bees. I had to get most of my information from the sex-ed section of my middle school PE class. And let me tell you, having that old Miss Thompson tell us about sex was kinda crazy. I doubt she ever had sex, at least with a man." Once dinner was over, they strolled hand-in-hand back to their hotel. In the room she stripped down and sat on a chair looking over at the curtains with a far-away look in her eyes. Ted came up behind her and quickly wrapped a scarf around her hands, tying them behind her. "What are you doing," she gasped as she realized she was unable to move. "Ambulance. Remember that word." "Ambulance?" "Yes, ambulance. That's your safe word." "What for, anyway?" "From here on I'm in charge. If anything at any time hurts or bothers you or if you want to stop for any reason, just say 'ambulance' and I'll stop. But until then, I'm in charge." "I dunno, Honey. Are you sure?" "I promise. You say the word and I'll quit." "Ambulance!" Ted leaned over and started to untie the scarf immediately. "No, wait! That was a test. I know I can trust you. Go ahead." "Sure?" "Sure! Unambulance me, whatever that means," she giggled as he tied her hands up again. He grabbed one of her belts and one of his and tied her feet to the chair legs. "Ready?" "Uh, I guess so..." she responded as he opened the curtain and slid the door to the tiny deck open. "Wait, what are you doing?" He responded by lifting the chair from behind and carrying her out onto the deck. The railing was a simple iron bar across the top and glass below. Between each room's deck was a solid wall. Cindy sat on a chair, exposed to the world below yet hidden from the neighbors in the hotel. They were high enough that not many would be able to see her, but she was well lit from two wall sconces, one on either side of the door. Ted stood behind her and gently rubbed her shoulders. "Like it?" "Uh, kinda scary, but actually, yeah, I do." "Good," he murmured back as he pulled up another chair and sat behind her. His hands slowly rubbed her upper back and shoulders as she began to relax, sensing the evening breeze flow over her, tickling her nipples and pussy. "Mmm, feels sooo good." "Glad you like it." His hands achingly slowly expanded their territory, eventually sliding over her breasts, but avoiding her nipples, and over her belly. "You tease." "What?" "My nipples, you forgot my nipples." "No, I didn't. I'm ignoring them on purpose." "You shit," she chuckled. "You'll get yours, just be patient." His hands slid down her belly, fingers barely teasing her landing strip, before going down to her legs. Up and down her thighs, first on top and then on the inside until his thumbs grazed her lips. "You are such a shit," she moaned. "Ambulance?" "Hell no!" "OK, then, be quiet and enjoy." The slow teasing continued for what seemed like eons. Her pussy was flooded with moisture, her pelvis felt full and her nipples were beaded up, begging for attention. As much as she wanted faster relief, she knew she needed to keep quiet and let Ted run the show. Eventually his left hand drifted up to her breasts and began to slowly tease the nipples with light strokes and later with some light pinching. His right hand all-so-slowly approached her pussy, initially lightly stroking the outer lips before diving inside to pick up moisture, which he spread onto her clit. "Aaaah, nice..." "You like it?" "Oh, God, you know I do. A little harder, please." Instead of harder, he frustrated her even more by decreasing the pressure on her nipples and pussy. "You turd, you big, fat turd!" "That'll teach you to tell me what to do. I'm in charge here. Now, where were we?" he asked as he slowly increased the pressure and tempo of his rubbing. She got more and more excited, her breathing got deeper and her head rolled from side to side. Once her legs started to twitch, a sign she was nearing an orgasm, he eased off on the pressure. Her pre-orgasmic tension eased but her frustration increased, however she knew if she complained, he would back off even more. Once she relaxed, he started up again, slowly increasing the pressure of his rubbing and stroking. Again, and again, she would approach orgasm, only to have him back off. It was so frustrating, so maddeningly frustrating, but she wouldn't, she absolutely couldn't cry 'ambulance.' After what seemed like the fifth or sixth episode of stimulation and relaxation, she let her eyes drift open and she stared down to the Promenade below. Her eyes popped wide open. There were three couples standing together staring right back at her. Here she was, stark naked, bound to a chair and being stimulated by her husband, all the while being watched by strangers. The reality of this was like a sudden massaging right on her clit. Even though Ted had just been easing off the pressure and frequency of his attention, she found herself rising rapidly to an earth-shattering orgasm. Her eyes squeezed shut, her skin flushed deep red, her legs twitched and jerked right before her whole torso bent forward and went into deep, muscular spasms. Blinding light shot through her brain as profound pleasure spread through her body and loud moans escaped from her lips. After the orgasm subsided, her head dropped to her chest and her breathing settled down. She was aware of Ted's hands gently rubbing her torso and his light kisses on her neck. As she opened her eyes, she saw the couples below quietly clapping before they turned to walk further along the Promenade. "Ted, we were being watched." "Umm-hmm, you were being watched. Like it?" "Yeah, definitely. That's what sent me over the edge, even though you were easing off at that moment. Wow, I can't believe you did that." "More?" "No, please. I've had enough. Ambulance, please." Ted leaned over and untied the belts and scarf and helped her to her feet. She could barely walk to the bed and once there, she collapsed in a heap, sighing with fatigue. Ted pulled a sheet lightly over her as she fell into a deep sleep. The next morning Cindy was slow to wake. Initially she was slightly confused until she completely opened her eyes and looked around. Over to the side was the chair with belts still loosely wrapped around the front legs. A faint breeze billowed in the curtains. Ted snored lightly beside her. As she lay there, she thought about her experiences both on the beaches and the night before. She realized in spite of her up-bringing, she had a completely new sexual angle. She was absolutely turned on by exposing herself, something she knew would totally shock her family back in Iowa. But she was comfortable with her newfound sexuality. And she loved her husband. Ted had played along and allowed her to explore her new sexual desires. And the night before; she couldn't believe how exciting it had been and how it was all a result of his doing. As she thought about him, she felt herself getting slightly excited once again. She glanced over at him and a smile crossed her face. She pulled the sheet slowly away and exposed his cock. She loved his cock. It was nicely shaped, just the right size and tasted great. She decided to taste it. A few licks along the underside of the head and his cock rapidly developed a strong erection which seemed to wake Ted up. "What're you doing?" "Giving you a little 'thank you' for last night." "Mmm, if you insist," he laughed as he dropped his head back to the pillow and enjoyed his wife's oral skills. She had not been very eager to give blow jobs when they first were sexually active, but with time she became quite good at them and even enjoyed pleasing him with her lips and tongue. There was minimal teasing that morning, just rapid, hard sucking and licking designed to give him a quick release. "Oh, God, you really know how to push all the buttons, don't you?" he said as she worked on him. "Mmm-hmm," she intoned around his cock as she kept working him. In no time at all he rose up and spasmed as he came in her mouth. As he softened, she kept gently licking him knowing it still felt good to him. "You like?" she asked, fully knowing the answer, before she went on. "Honey, now that I've cleared your pipes, I think we need to get cleaned up and have a 'rest' day, you know, just simple touristy things. I couldn't do another day like yesterday anytime soon. I need a day or two wearing clothes. Don't worry, we can still have fun, but being nude too much will clearly wear me out." Over the next two days they traveled around Nice and viewed more interesting sights. They spent a bit of time looking up more nudist beaches and found a nice one further down the coast which they decided to visit on their way back towards Paris. They were able to get a room at a hotel right next to the beach which meant Cindy could drag Ted upstairs when she got too frustrated. After two days there, they zipped back to Paris and their flight home. Their plane was surprisingly empty and they had three seats for the two of them in the back row and the row in front of them was vacant. After they had a lunch they dozed for a while. It became cool in the plane and they shared a thin blanket and talked quietly about their trip and the fun they had. Cindy thanked Ted several times for allowing her to express her new sexuality and particularly thanked him for the episode on the hotel deck. "That was the highlight of the trip," she whispered. "I don't think I have ever been so excited and when those people down below looked at me, well, wow, I was in another dimension." "Liked it, did you?" "NO! Loved it. And I love you," she said as she kissed him. A minute or so later she went on, "Honey, I'd like to make this a part of our life together. I know most folks back home are more hung up than the French, but there have to be nudist resorts somewhere nearby, don't you think?" "Sweetheart, there are. When you were napping yesterday afternoon, I googled a bit. There are two within a couple of hours of us. I think we may need to join one of them." "Oh, that'd be great, yes, let's. We can check each one out on a visit and decide which one to join." "I'll do it on one condition," he chuckled as he paused, "No more masturbating on the beach." "Awww, Honeeeey...."

  “How are you feeling, Draco?” She approached the bed and sat down, checking his face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “Better than expected I guess. Thanks to you, Granger… I mean Hermione." Her given name coming from his lips sounded as weird as her pronouncing his. He was eyeing his body, frowning at the grey sweat shorts he was dressed in, “These aren’t mine.” “I took off your clothes,” her blushing cheeks giving her away, “You sweated quite a bit from the fever, and I bathed you…” she motioned to the vanity chair behind her, “Everything you were wearing is over there, clean and stain-free.” The silence sizzled uneasily; she admitted undressing him and was feeling slightly guilty for crossing a certain line. He was surprised at how well she took care of him. “Draco-” “Hermione-” They both spoke at the same time, although Draco motioned her to talk first. “What happened to you?” "I'm sorry for imposing myself on you. I should not have brought you into my mess." He pushed himself out of the bed, walking to the chair and grasping the pile of neatly folded clothes, “Where’s your bathroom?” Pointing at the door to his right, she asked him, “Draco, please, answer my question. What happened to you? Who assaulted you like this?” She ended up talking to a closed door, which infuriated her to no end. Several minutes later he emerged from her bathroom again, gazing at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. She blushed, looking at everything but him. He knows I saw his…. “Granger,” his knuckles grazed her cheek, “You can’t imagine how grateful I am for what you did. I don’t deserve your kindness. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt, being entangled in my problems.” His thumb was caressing her face gently, “Let it go. I’m not a man that begs, but I implore you to let it go. I’m a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve-” She intervened, with a hand against his strong chest, “Draco-” Shaking his head, he raised her chin, his eyes boring into hers, “No Granger, I don’t deserve pity nor help, I don’t want you to get hurt. What is happening to me is my doing, and my burden to carry, not yours. Stay away from me, Granger.” He rested his forehead on hers, “I wish I could go back in time and redo all the nasty stuff. I regret my actions in the past so much.” He planted a kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger against her skin longer than usual, “Goodbye, Granger.” Releasing his hold on her, he retracted several steps back and disapparated while she attempted to grab hold of him, “Draco!” Her hands were in the air, grabbing in vain. Her temperament flaring up, but she felt powerless, "Damn you Malfoy. You don't get to do this to me." She gathered her robe and wand, raging out loud, "I'm 27 years old; I’m not a porcelain teenager doll that breaks easily, Malfoy." She focused for a moment into restoring her wards allowing only Harry and Ron full access to her home, before she decided to pay a visit to Harry, "You can't ditch me so easily, do you hear me, Malfoy?" -oOo- The youngest Head Auror in Wizard's history almost left his office, when he spotted the apparition of the bushy-haired witch, her face in tempest mode. He suspected the perpetrator to be a blond wizard instead of the usual ginger head, "What did I do to get the honour of this late visit?" He tried a lighter tone. “Malfoy!” “I had already discerned your mood had nothing to do with the usual culprit, Ron.” His lips pursed tightly, fighting hard to control a grin that wanted to escape. Hermione’s face as usual was an open book, “Did he ruffle your feathers wrong?” “He ditched me without giving me any explanation. Proclaiming he was protecting me from harm, that he wasn’t worthy of help and all that crap that goes with the ‘It’s all my fault’-speech.” Harry was slack-jawed, “Wait a minute, Malfoy, the bully we’ve always known, has done, for once, the right thing?” “Harry, he’s in danger, we should help him.” She argued her case. He shook his head, “Hermione, if he wanted help, all he had to do was be honest with you. The fact he disappeared just like that, tells me that he doesn’t want help.” She didn’t cave in, “Did you find anything?” Her determined face was enough for Harry to understand that she was not going to let this go quickly, "Hermione," he put his hands on her shoulders, emphasising his next words, "He doesn't want help. Let it go." “Those were his exact words, Harry." “Should tell you something.” He shook her shoulders lightly, force her to see the reason, “This is not your battle to fight. And apart from those little details at the end of the war, none of his actions in the past should make you think you owe him anything.” “He apologised for his bullying.” "Stop the press! Let the Daily Prophet publish the next headline, "Malfoy heir says sorry to Muggleborn!" What do you think? A sold-out edition?" His mocking tone was enraging Hermione more than he expected, "You are a goody-two-shoes, ‘Mione, you see an injured bird, and you want to nurse it. One: you have nursed him back to life. Two: your job is done." Hermione was spitting fire, “Newsflash Harry, I’m not done. Of all people he could turn to, he knocked on MY door. Draco was humble and grateful that I had helped him instead of showing him the way out. Not once was he his arrogant self. But he sounded astray. He considers himself a lost cause, the one to blame for being beaten up." She stood before Harry with both her hands on her waist, "Again, have you found anything?" Harry sat in his chair, sighing deeply, "There are rumours of something going on, but I couldn't find out more details about it." “What is the fuss and why are they targeting Malfoy?” “Beats me at this point, there have been no complaints to alarm the Ministry. If not for Malfoy showing up the way he did at your doorstep, nothing would give it away there could be something out there.” Hermione crossed her arms in front of her, “And you are not planning on finding out more?” He shook his head, “No, not really.” She took a deep breath, “Alright, fine. Sorry for disturbing your evening. I’ll let you be. Good night, Harry.” Turning her back to him, she headed for the way out. “Hermione, please stop for a second.” She stopped, faced him and waited, “Hermione, you're not going to let it go, are you?” Her face told him all he needed to know before she left his office. Alone again in his space, Harry made a mental note to drop by her office tomorrow - the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; and to keep a close eye on her. His guts warned him, however that his sister was not going to let this rest. Maybe he should touch base with his informants and see if he could gather some more intel before Hermione got hurt trying to be the hero and save that ferret at any cost. -oOo- She returned to her home fuming, angry with Harry for his unwillingness to help Draco. Her gut feeling told her two things: whatever happened to him was not a first-time, nor a last, and it pained her to admit Harry might be right: it could end with her getting hurt. She paced around her living room, analysing her next steps, "Where's that damn ferret at this moment?" talking out loud always helped her organise her stream of thoughts, "There's something sizzling underground. Whoever this was, he wanted to teach Draco a lesson, not kill but hurt him badly. At least I hope the intent was not to kill." Her fingers were moving restlessly, drumming on her lips at a silent beat or fumbling in her hair, "Why is Draco a target? It has been more than nine years since the war ended. His parents are under house arrest, they've contributed severely for the restorations in the war aftermath. Draco faced trial like all other Death Eaters but was free from all charges. His wand contained no trace of killing curses, the Wizengamot's test confirmed it." She didn't stop for a second in her enumeration, "So why this now?" She plunged into her armchair with a sigh. She made a mental note to return the vials and the beaker back to Neville tomorrow before heading to her office and made a plan to start with Blaise in her enquiry on Draco's whereabouts; he worked at the Division for the Misuse of Magical Artefacts, two floors below her office. Concluding that was the first step in her plan. Admitting for the first time: their short encounter left a trail. One she wanted to pursue. Draco's sleeping features, woke something into existence. And she wanted at least to know what that something was.

Monkey King stayed in that waterfall for a bit longer, the recent events that made his insides burn with eternal conflict completely killed the mood. His soaked robe and the breeze sent shivers across his fur. "Maybe I should have brought a change of clothes." The monkey dryly chuckled as he got out of the water body and summoned his cloud. Finally, after getting a good grip of his cloud he zoomed through the top of the trees to go back home, and for a couple of seconds the idea worked until a strong wave of dizziness took over him. His cloud lowered just enough for his feet to get tangled with the top of the jungle trees and fall down to the mud in a clean thud. Wukong let out a gasp in surprise as he braced himself for the fall with the remains of his cloud. After millennia of living he knew a thing or two about falling correctly, now protecting his belly, even while having his vision blurred with black dots. After the hit his cloud dispersed and left Wukong laying there on the jungle mud. He groaned, the dizziness leaving as fast as it came, making his head throb in pain.   "Great. Now I'm wet and covered in mud." He thanked the universe as he shook off all the dirt from his fur and clothes.  He took a step forward and suddenly yelped as a sharp pain darted across his side over his left hip.  "Okay, do not panic, maybe it was just the after effects from the fall, nothing to worry about. Just walk it out." His mind reasoned as he took another couple of steps and the pain increased by a ton, forcing him to grab onto the nearest tree to balance himself. "Hehe, so walking is not an option, do not panic, just summon your cloud." The monkey reassured himself as he raised his hand to call his cloud. Just that this time it did not come, not a single bit of it.  He took a deep breath and tried it once more, with the same result. "Mmm, maybe panic a bit. Oh! I'll just transform into a bird. That will surely work!" He said optimistic. Long story short, it did not work. "My powers, they're gone?" His heart started racing like crazy inside him and his breathing became quick, erratic. The sense of vulnerability, of having very low defenses woke up an instinct inside him that improved all his senses to the max, of protecting his cub at all costs. The fear of anything unexpected happening or a threat coming close to him made Wukong's tail wag anxiously but he quickly came back to his senses. He needed to remain calm, alert yes but also calm.  He decided to sit on a big root on the nearest tree, carefully leaving his hip upward with no extra pressure. "Breathe Wukong you're the Great Sage for heaven's sake! Have a little more faith in yourself! Yeah, you don't have powers now and you are injured but you are still a master of martial arts!" He motivated himself as he softly slapped his cheeks. "You're on your mountain, it is safe, just wait a bit! See if any little monkey appears or if you feel better to walk back, yeah, that's the spirit!". So waiting, that's all he had to do for now at least. What could he do to kill some time? Perhaps he could do some meditation, Tripitaka has always told him that it brings peace to the soul. MMM, but that'll mean that he'll be alone…with his thoughts. A light bulb turned on. Monkey King's eyes wandered down his belly. "Seems like we haven't talked that much after all this time?" He laughed with a crooked smile. "So why do you think I lost my powers? Maybe you borrowed them for your brewing of immortality? Just so you know, you have to ask first!" He joked around as he poked his belly but then patted it, "Nah, it's okay little blossom, well not getting stuck in the middle of the jungle part but you get the point right?" He continued talking to his belly for some more time, anything really to ease his bored mind. But that could only do so much, as the sun set down in the sky the lack of response was more than enough for the monkey to let out a puff of air in defeat. Yup, he felt a bit dumb talking to someone who wasn't even born yet.  That's when the boredom took another level and he started doing random stuff like flapping his hands and clicking his tongue.  Then the sudden urge to stim overpowered him and this time, it was in the form of sound. At first it began with chirps, then vocalizing random letters,then finally giving a fuck and just plain screaming at the top of his lungs, hoping that at least one of the monkeys hears him. "AHHHHHHH. a." Then he got tired of that too and contented himself with the sound of the jungle at night, the delicate moon rays playing with the shadows. "So borinnnggg." He glanced at the moon and its beauty, there was this weird energy that almost pulled him towards something that he could not pinpoint. It felt warm, familiar, and somehow safe.   ---Flashback--- The bubbly quiet laugh of two idiots in love filled the night sky and accompanied the bright stars.  They were both in the mountain valley where wild flowers bloomed and left their sweet scent up in the cold breeze.  Crack! Crack! The sound of little twigs came as the two ran across the field in a wild goose chase. That's until one finally caught the other under in a tight hug and both fell over the grass and yarrows.  "Gotcha." The dark fur monkey teased with a smirk the orange monkey underneath him who just rolled his eyes with half a smile as he placed a soft peck on his cheek. "Oh you got me! Please be gentle, have mercy on this pure innocent creature!" Wukong put his hands up in defeat dramatically wanting to follow the game but at the end he couldn't hold on his giggles which lead to both bursting of laughter. "Always the comedian." Macaque said after their laughs ceased, his eyes locked in his lover's ones.  "Aw, this is what you signed up for the moment you gave me this." Wukong chirped as he showed him a well kept jade pendant. Macaque cringed at its sight as red spread across his ears, "Ugh, don't tell me you still keep that silly thing? I have given you much better gifts." He tried to grab the pendant but Sun took it out of his reach with his tail. "Why wouldn't I? It was the first gift you ever gave me as a lover, the very day that we became a couple." Sun said fondly as the jade pendant reflected the mood rays. Macaque rolled his eyes but kept a small smile on his face, "Okay, but you gotta admit I did a pretty bad job, the jade is all crooked and badly crafted." "You did your best and besides, I think it's adorable, like you." Wukong teased as he scratched the Macaque's head who just scoffed bashfully and sat up. "Really bringing out all the compliments tonight, what gives? If you wanted some old Mac love you could've just asked, I don't bite." "And what if I do want some of that Mac love? What you gonna do?" Sun Wukong teased as he sat as well and locked eyes with him. "This." Macaque replied as he leaned forward, his hand caressing his mate's neck, and showered him with dozens of little kisses all from his forehead down his soft lips. Wukong just melted under his touches and let out a deep relaxed purr as he pulled him, his foreheads now touching. They stayed like that until Macaque broke the silence, picking up a dandelion, "Never leave me Peaches." He whispered as he intertwined his tail with Wukong's, who then took the dandelion and blew it before answering,"Wouldn't dream of it." ---End of flashback-----   Wukong's ear twitched when a nearby bush moved its leaves, indicating the presence of an unknown creature. He growled, showing his sharp fangs and claws ready to fight even with his injury. A few leaves moved before a creature bolted out of the bush. It was as if a switch was turned on inside Wukong as he felt a powerful energy drive coming out as a golden laser through his eyes towards the creature who managed to dodge just in time. The orange monkey was ready for a second round when he noticed that it was not a threat but one of the white monkeys that went looking for him, probably from all his screaming a few moments ago. "Oh I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Wukong immediately apologized as he walked towards the small terrorized monkey. That's when it hit him, "My powers, they're back, and my body is healing now! About damn time! Thanks lil bud!" Wukong exclaimed as he picked up the little guy and spun him around in celebration. The little one screeched in protest of being treated like some sort of rag doll. "Oh oh yeah, my bad. Maybe let's go back home and I'll give you a taste of those peach chips you like so much?" Wukong chuckled as the monkey noodled eagerly and pointed the way back home. They would have returned right away but when Wukong tried to summon his cloud only a very small one came; his powers were glitching in some kind of way. "So much for time alone." He groaned all the way back to the temple because now he'd need to give MK and flame boy a call first thing in the morning.  But for now, he'll give his little bud some chips finally back at his good old little house. It seems like all the other monkeys were asleep on his couch, leaving the TV on playing some cliché cop movie. Wukong turned the TV off and went to his bedroom, happy to finally take off his dirty humid robe. He freshened up and winced as he looked through a mirror. He had a big purple bruise on his thigh, hadn't seen one like that since before he became immortal. Then again, he was very tired, a problem for tomorrow he thought as he looked through his drawers for clean clothes. The thing is, he had completely forgotten tomorrow was also laundry day and that robe was the last pair of his usual clothes. He had no choice but to look through his old clothes he barely uses. He quickly picks up some and hears a thud, something hard had fallen to the floor. In the darkness he couldn't distinguish what it was until he picked it up and put it under the moon's light from his window. He shuddered, almost dropping it, the sight had opened an old wound on his heart. It was a badly crafted jade pendant.  Even after all these millennials, it looked just as the day he had given it to him. Why had he kept it? After all this time? Only heavens will know. He examined the piece and nostalgia hit him like a train, he really missed the old days yet it hurt him too much to remember.  He tried to not dwell in the past, but there was something that made it impossible to get rid of the pendant, it held too many memories. Wukong's eyes held a tired look on the pendant and went to bed, only bothering with putting on pants.  As he laid there, on this bed sheets and let sleep take over, never did he let go of that old jade pendant.

In hindsight, Hyunjin should have probably realized that offering to share a bed with Seungmin would have been a pretty bad idea regardless of how much clothing he was wearing because Hyunjin is a clingy sleeper, and needed to hug something, whether it be a pillow or a Felix, or a Jeongin if their youngest was feeling particularly generous. The youngest was not feeling particularly generous, as Hyunjin was soon to find out, when the screech of “Felix hyung, they did the frickle frackle!” resounds through the bungalow, waking Hyunjin up better than his own alarm ever would. He blinks until his vision focusses and he tenses when he sees Seungmin glancing down at him curiously from where he had his arms wrapped around the brunette’s waist, his head presumably pressed against the boy’s cool chest. His face immediately stains scarlet and he jerks away, only for a hand to hold him in place. “No...stay there, it’s warm,” Seungmin insists, as though he didn’t understand how this could be misinterpreted by anyone who saw them; presumably, it had already been misinterpreted by Jeongin. Hyunjin’s face remains pitifully crimson as Felix’s head pops in through the doorway (he would think it counterintuitive to even want to do that after Jeongin’s ear-splitting proclamation, but he had the worst friends, so really, he shouldn’t be surprised), and he hides his face in Seungmin’s chest as Felix grins from ear to ear and shuts the door on them without a word. Somehow Hyunjin finds that more terrifying than if the blonde was to mimic Jeongin’s (false) broadcasting. “What did he say? Frickle frackle?” Seungmin asks curiously, and his voice doesn’t sound sleep-ridden at all, leading Hyunjin to believe that he had been awake for a while, which makes his face even redder if at all possible because how long had Seungmin been aware that he had been clinging to him and not done anything about it? “Just...just ignore them,” Hyunjin mumbles, figuring that if he didn't see Seungmin's face then maybe the embarrassment would dwindle. Unfortunately, considering how his method of not looking at Seungmin's face was to hide his own face in Seungmin's chest against his cool, sun-kissed skin, his embarrassment didn't lessen as he had hoped. Seungmin nods and chuckles as he eyes Hyunjin, and somewhere in the corner of his mind that was currently blaring sirens (the eoeoeo ones, not the Seungmin ones) telling him that he should really get his face off of Seungmin's toned chest, he wonders just how the boy can be remotely cheerful in the morning. How the hell can someone be so perfect that they have a smile on their face so early in the morning? (In reality, it wasn't that early at all, but Hyunjin never was and never will be a morning person). “If you don't want to get up right now, you don't need to,” Seungmin points out, his voice slightly nasally in that way that Hyunjin found unforgivably adorable. “You were up late last night and you're on vacation right? So you should be able to get more rest.” “Marry me,” Hyunjin groans then and there because he swears that Seungmin's words are those of angels singing. He realizes what he's said only a good few seconds after he's spoken and flushes down to his neck again. “Actually, forget I even exist, I want to crawl in a hole and die a quick and painless death,” he decides. He hears that infuriatingly cute chuckle again and feels something cold rest on the back of his head. Belatedly he realizes that it's Seungmin's hand. But his mind was on overload at the moment, and really, where Seungmin's hand was on his being was the least of Hyunjin's worries. “We barely know each other, Hyunjin, I'm not going to marry you. I don't even like humans.” Hyunjin just about wilts in Seungmin's grip at the words and pouts, finally shifting to look up at him, his chin resting on Seungmin's sternum. “Not even me?” He tries, giving him his best puppy dog eyes. Seungmin rolls his eyes, his hand shifting to flick Hyunjin gently between the eyes. “I don't like humans,” he repeats, firmly and without hesitation. Hyunjin's pout deepens and he returns his face back to Seungmin's chest, honestly too embarrassed to even care about being embarrassed anymore. He falls silent and stays silent for a bit, understanding that this was probably a touchy subject for Seungmin, although why was beyond him. Although humans could be pretty terrible, so he supposes that Seungmin's behaviour wasn't completely unreasonable. That didn't mean it didn't hurt to be so blatantly rejected. Hwang Hyunjin was used to rejecting, not being rejected. He wasn't the kind of jerk that would lead people on if he felt nothing for them. For how much longer he remains cuddled up against Seungmin (the discomfort of it had eventually faded when Hyunjin's natural tendency to be touchy-feely kicked in, but that didn't mean the rollercoaster ride his stomach decided to embark on had stopped) he isn't sure, but he's snapped out of the comfortable reverie when the brunette speaks. “I'm thirsty.” Hyunjin immediately hops out of bed. “I’ll get you some water.” Seungmin slips out as well, and Hyunjin tells himself to focus, to keep his eyes on Seungmin’s face. “You have to show me how to get water so that I can do it myself,” he states frankly. Hyunjin stares blankly at him for a few moments before pursing his lips. “You have to put on clothes first,” he tells him. “Lucky for you, I bought you a bunch!” he grins and moves over to the bags of clothes that he hadn’t removed since he had purchased them. Now Seungmin was here to wear them at least, so he hefts the bags over to the bed and grins at Seungmin. “Choose whatever you like. They’re all yours!” “Mine?” Seungmin hums, surprise glinting in his eyes. It makes Hyunjin feel oddly self-satisfied. He nods, and Seungmin looks through the clothes quietly. “You shouldn’t have. Money is hard to earn for you humans, isn’t it?” Hyunjin shrugs slightly. “I...just wanted to get you something to wear,” he responds lamely, looking down at the floor. That chuckle again. Hyunjin wonders if Seungmin will start vomiting rainbows with how perfect he is. “You know I don’t like or need to wear clothes, Hyunjin.” “I know, but I don’t want everyone to see you walking around everywhere naked, excuse me for wanting to protect your privacy.” And maybe keep that sight to myself. Hyunjin feels blood rush to his cheeks at his own thoughts. “You aren’t the only one that’s seen me naked.” Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “D-did I—” “Say that out loud? Yes, you did.” Hyunjin groans and faceplants onto the bed. “Just kill me now and save me from embarrassing myself even more than I already have…” he whines, his voice muffled by the mattress. He felt so utterly mortified that goosebumps lined his skin down the entirety of his frame. “I’ll wear these.” Hyunjin turns his head so that his cheek is pressed against the mattress and glances over Seungmin’s choices. They were loose clothes, of course, an oversized hoodie, t-shirt and a pair of joggers. Hyunjin nods and turns to head out the door. “I'll go wash up, you can get dressed.” “All right.” Hyunjin flashes Seungmin a quick smile before hurrying out to the bathroom and promptly shutting the door before leaning his back against it and just slowly and far too dramatically sliding down until he's sitting on the cold, tiled floor. He buries his face in his hands and tries to decide whether he wants to wither from mortification or squeal in sheer happiness. He ends up letting out a sound that vaguely sounds like a crying moose. After a few minutes of just groaning out his feelings (he still wasn't quite sure what exactly those feelings were), Hyunjin stands and jumps into the shower, dousing himself in cold water and promptly shrieking, his breath trapping itself in his lungs as he gasps. He twists the temperature to something warmer and finishes his shower as soon as possible, quickly brushing his teeth and changing into a fresh set of clothes. He opens the door, nearly braining Seungmin with it, the brunette was standing so close. He blinks, staring at Seungmin, dressed in the oversized clothes and looking very very huggable, and Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s wanted to hug someone so badly his entire life. “Water..?” Seungmin just asks simply, and Hyunjin bolts to the kitchen to grab a glass and fill it with water. “He’s not limping...you think he topped?” Changbin stage whispers to Jeongin from the table where they’re very obviously sitting and judging Hyunjin’s every move. Hyunjin whirls around and glares at them. “We didn’t do anything! I just...ended up cuddling him..while sleeping..” “Suuure you did,” Jeongin chirps, evil glinting in his eyes. Hyunjin huffs and sticks his nose up in the air and parades out of the kitchen. “I did,” he declares, making his way down the hall where he can already see the amused glint in Seungmin’s almond eyes. He blushes, realizing the ridiculousness of the entire situation. “H-here’s your water,” he stammers, offering the boy the glass. Seungmin accepts it with a nod. “Thank you, Hyunjin.” He downs in in seconds and a droplet slips down the furrow created by the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His lips glisten, and Hyunjin can’t help but stare. He wants to kiss him. Really badly. “My eyes are up here,” Seungmin calls and Hyunjin’s gaze snaps up. He blushes when he sees the knowing glint in the brunettes gaze. He pouts, and reaches out to wipe the droplet of water from the corner of Seungmin’s lips. He feels the boy tense under his touch, and catches sight of his eyes widening ever so slightly in well-concealed surprise, which Hyunjin takes as a victory on his part, although he wasn’t exactly sure what kind of game this was to begin with. Seungmin didn’t even like him, or humans in general. He knows he’s playing a losing match, but he can’t seem to stop. “Drink slower or you’ll choke,” he hums. “Can you not flirt in the hall?” Felix suddenly yells, running through the door and pointing an accusing finger at them. Hyunjin sputters. “We’re not flirting! I just got him a glass of water!” Jeongin pops out of the kitchen, screen of his phone brandished, and Hyunjin’s eyes widen as he sees the image snapped of him staring pointedly at Seungmin’s lips while wiping off the water droplet with his thumb, his ears somewhat red, while Seungmin’s eyes are wide and staring at him. “Not flirting,” the maknae crows. “Suuuure.” “Hey, where’s Chan hyung?” Hyunjin loudly interjects in blatant attempt to divert the conversation. Fortunately, it seems to do the trick. “Sleeping,” Felix responds without missing a beat, and Hyunjin relaxes, a relieved smile curling onto his lips. It’s mirrored on Felix’s face, and suddenly all is well with the world. “Finally,” he sighs, stepping past to collapse onto the couch. “He’s sleeping.” “Well, he nearly drowned last night, I’d be surprised if it didn’t take a lot out of him,” Changbin calls from the table, his eyes darting to Chan’s room. “So if you kids are gonna make noise, then at least go out and do it so you don’t wake him up.” “Since when did you become responsible, hyung?” Jeongin asks curiously, pocketing his phone. Changbin just glares at the younger and turns away, lips pursed. Felix chuckles at that. “He was joking, hyung, no need to be mopey over it.” He drapes himself over Changbin from behind and pokes his cheek. “Something the matter?” he asks, his voice quieter. “You usually have a lot of patience with Innie.” Hyunjin watches them, and debates on teasing Felix after all that Felix had teased him for, but he decides to be the better person in their friendship and leave them be. Besides, it seemed that Jeongin was already doing all the work with his brandished phone and foxy grin. With a sigh, Hyunjin lets his head fall against the back cushion of the couch. His eyes close and he sits there, as still as a statue, until he feels the cushion sink somewhat. He opens his eyes and glances over to find Seungmin sitting beside him, looking somewhat uncomfortable. Hyunjin owes it to the clothes. He sits upright and faces Seungmin properly. “Everything is all right right now,” he tells him. “Do you want to go for a swim?” He’s sure that Seungmin would feel much more comfortable in the sea. At the moment he looked very much like a fish out of water, but much stiller. The brunette shakes his head, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the brief hesitation, and he stands up. “Let’s go swimming,” he declares. “And then we can order takeout for breakfast so that Chan hyung doesn’t need to wake up and cook for us.” “Swimming?” Felix suddenly perks up and turns to look at them. “Count me in!” “No, you should let them go on their date, Lix hyung,” Jeongin calls out cheekily and Hyunjin puffs out his cheeks childishly. “Lix can come if he wants! It’s not a date!” “Sweet! Hyung, order us some breakfast,” Felix orders, turning to look at Changbin who rolls his eyes at the bossy attitude. Hyunjin smirks slightly when he catches the fondness in Changbin’s gaze that Felix seems to miss entirely. “Sure. But I’m not swimming,” he decides. Felix pokes his tongue out at the shorter man. “Fine, be that way.” “Real mature, Lix,” Changbin retorts. “ Anyway, if you’re done flirting—” “We’re not flirting!” Felix yelps and Jeongin just looks as though he’s having a field day, the widest grin on his face. “Suuuure,” Hyunjin teases. “Anyway. I’m heading out for a swim.” He bolts off the couch and darts into the bedroom, swapping his pants for his swim trunks before darting out of the door and towards the beach, leaving the rest of them staring at his back. “...is his inner swim-otaku coming out again?” Felix wonders aloud. “Swim-otaku?” Seungmin repeats, turning to eye the blonde curiously. Felix grins. “You know, when he goes gay for water.” “No, I don't know,” Seungmin deadpans, but when he watches Hyunjin throw off his shirt and dart into the water like an excited child, he can't help but chuckle. “He's very bizarre.” “Bizarre as in plain weird or kind of cute?” Jeongin breaks in, looking far more interested than he normally would have. “Neither. Just...bizarre. You're all very bizarre.” “We could say the same for you,” Changbin points out as he pockets his phone. “I ordered chicken. If you're all going to be out swimming, then you'll probably be starving after.” “Great! Now that that's over with, let's go.” Felix runs to the bedroom to change into his swimming clothes. When he's gone, Seungmin turns to face Changbin. “You're tense.” “Yeah, I know. Maybe it's because of you,” Changbin admits honestly. “I don't know you, and suddenly you're integrated here. It feels off. Not to mention this whole siren thing. And we don't even know your intentions.” Seungmin shrugs. “I'm not too happy about being here myself, but…” his eyes darken slightly. “I think I need to.” He stands up as Felix emerges from the bedroom wearing a wetsuit and a bright grin. “Sea, here I come!” He cheers, running out of the building. Seungmin watches him go before following in his wake, Jeongin close behind, and finally, Changbin after a few moments of watching them. Felix exhibits no hesitation as he runs into the water, splashing Hyunjin and perpetrating the resulting waterfight that Jeongin easily joins just so he could saturate the two with his ever-present grin on his face. Truth be told, it was slightly intimidating, how his smile was plastered on so perpetually. Seungmin just watches in fascination for a few minutes before tugging off his hoodie, and then his shirt, and finally, his sweats so that he's nearly stark naked, save for his chains and jewels that he never seemed to go anywhere without. “Damn, Hyunjin was right, you do have a good physique,” Changbin remarks, sparing him a brief glance before looking away again, seemingly unfazed. “I'd say I'm fairly average,” Seungmin disagrees as he lifts himself onto his feet and steps over to the shoreline, his frame glittering in the sunlight. He gravitates naturally to the turquoise waves, easily slipping from the shallows into deeper water and watching the sun dance through the surface to shine beneath in dim rays. He felt far more at home under the water than he did on land. Seungmin just stays beneath the surface for a long while, letting the water flow through his gills and relaxing in the familiar environment when he's suddenly met with a familiar face. His eyes widen. “Hyunjin?” He exclaims, surprised, before immediately moving to clamp his hand over the other man's mouth before Hyunjin can make the stupid mistake of opening it. (Hyunjin would've argued that he wouldn't have, but Seungmin wouldn't believe him). Hyunjin pulls away from his grip and breaks the surface, presumably to breathe, before ducking under again and looking at him. Seungmin meets his gaze incredulously because he's fairly certain that Hyunjin's eyes must have burned, but the man seemed all too eager to revisit the sensation for whatever reason. He purses his lips. “You're ridiculous,” he sighs, shaking his head and swimming beneath Hyunjin before sidling closer to him. Under the water, it took him less effort to move. He could manoeuvre with grace and ease, and he was one with the currents. His chains float about him and as sunrays reflects off the adornments, it bathes him in fractals of dancing light. To say the least, Hyunjin looked enraptured, and although it was easy for Seungmin to see, he did his best to ignore it. Hyunjin reaches out slowly, as though to touch him, but pulls back at the last moment and just smiles a little, averting his eyes. His frame glowed in the muted, refracting sunlight and his hair swayed with the movements of the water, forming a halo about his head. Hyunjin glances up at him again before swimming back to the surface, leaving Seungmin watching his trail. He closes his eyes momentarily and wonders to himself since when had humans been so beautiful. The thought clouds his mind and his eyes snap open, his brow furrowing. He scowls and breaks the surface, slicking his drenched hair back with a hand. “I keep forgetting that you live underwater and I don't,” Hyunjin huffs, paddling around absently. “How do you forget that you don’t live underwater?” Seungmin drawls, cocking an eyebrow at him. Hyunjin shrugs. Hyunjin stares at him for a few moments, looking for all the world like he wanted to say something, but this time he had unfortunately developed something similar to a brain-to-mouth filter that functioned well enough for him to not spill exactly what was on his mind. What had been going through Hyunjin’s mind was, in fact, the thought that Seungmin made him forget a lot of things, no matter how obvious they were. The boy had made him forget how to breathe multiple times, and even now, he had looked so completely and utterly ethereal in his element under the water that Hyunjin had temporarily forgotten that they even were underwater. Of course he had to be reminded painfully when his lungs screamed for air and he needed to swim back to the surface. He debates on what he should say to Seungmin, finally able to think with enough sense to tell him that he shouldn’t just blurt out the first thing that came to mind like he had numerous times before, but before he has the chance to finally speak, he hears a loud yell somewhere in the distance. His head whips around to see Felix flailing about a little further away from shore than they were and quite a distance away. The blonde was very obviously struggling, which made little sense to Hyunjin, as Felix was an excellent swimmer, albeit not as good as he himself was. He’s about to call out to see if Felix was all right before Seungmin tenses. “He needs help,” the brunette immediately gasps as Felix goes under. Hyunjin’s body tenses as he finds himself rooted to the spot, watching as Felix breaks the surface, arms flailing, only to fall under the waves again. He finally manages to snap out of it a moment after Seungmin darts under the water again and he himself swims towards Felix. However, both of them aren’t as fast as Changbin despite the shorter man being seated by the shore watching them. He had been the first to move, immediately sensing something was wrong the moment Felix had ceased to move, considering the boy never did that, especially not when he was in a hyperactive mood. And so Hyunjin watches as Changbin ducks underwater where Felix had disappeared. Seungmin is under the water as well, but Hyunjin can only watch, stupefied, as the distorted form of Seungmin’s body darts out towards the mouth of the cove while Changbin drags Felix up to the surface. Only then does he finally move and help the man pull the blonde to the shore. His brow creases and his breaths catch. First Seungmin, then Chan, and now Felix. Something was very wrong. Before he has the chance to move to check on Felix, who currently looked quite limp and awfully pale, Changbin takes the initiative, checking on him, taking his pulse and checking his breathing; he clearly was in a bad state. Hyunjin’s attention is immediately stolen to the sea again when he recalls that Jeongin had also been in the water, concerned that something may have happened to him as well. To his relief, he sees both Seungmin and Jeongin making their way back to the shore. “Shit, he’s not breathing,” Changbin hisses under his breath and Hyunjin tenses, turning back to where the man was bent over Felix, his clothes that weren’t fit for swimming plastered to his frame and a wild look in his eyes, almost like some kind of animal that had been cornered. Hyunjin is about to push in and take over, but before he can, Changbin tilts Felix’s head back and pinches his nose before sealing his mouth over the blonde’s and blowing air into his lungs. Release, rinse, repeat. Hyunjin can only stare, his breaths taut in his chest as he waits for Felix to do something, anything. Hell, the young man could even come to and promptly tease him about Seungmin and he would be happy. Seeing Felix so small and unconscious felt wrong. When Felix’s chest finally begins to rise and fall, Changbin moves back and stares at him, and Hyunjin stares at Changbin. There were few times that Hyunjin ever saw genuine fear in the man’s eyes, his fearful expressions often brief and overdramatized, but this time he knew that Changbin was afraid. He glances back at Felix when the blonde coughs harshly and spits water out onto the sand, tears welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. Again, Hyunjin is too slow to react, as Changbin is the first to dart forward, helping the blonde to sit himself upright and leaning Felix’s head against his chest. “Hyung— hyung..!” Felix bursts into raspy tears, hiding his face in Changbins chest and reaching up to cling to his soaking wet shirt. Despite his deep voice, he still sounded incredibly small, and Hyunjin feels his heart sink with dread at the sight of the blonde clinging to Changbin as though he were some kind of lifeline. “Shhh...it’s okay, Lixie, you’re safe now,” Changbin murmurs, his grip around the blonde’s back tightening protectively while his other hand rests in Felix’s saturated, stringy, blonde hair. Felix sniffles and keeps his face hidden for a while, pressing as close to the older male as he could. For a few minutes, Felix remains relatively still against the man while Jeongin ran off to fetch a towel for him. Hyunjin’s eyes widen when Felix finally lifts his head, his eyes reddened and looking absolutely terrified in a way that Hyunjin had never before seen from him. The blonde’s gaze meets Changbin’s and his hand balls into a tight fist, taking with it Changbin’s saturated t-shirt. “They— they were pulling me down, hyung,” Felix rasps fresh tears blooming in his eyes as his voice cracks. “They w-were...they were trying to drown m-me..”

Minho tries his hardest to take a nap, to just finally let his mind rest for a bit, but it’s impossible. He didn’t expect his life to get so messy after just one, one very confusing kiss with Jisung, but it did. Even if he hadn’t seen the said boy for hours, having been lying on his bed ever since they came back from the graveyard. Jisung had left without saying a word.   Minho wasn’t worried.   It’s quiet downstairs too, only the faint sound of Mrs. Han typing away something on her laptop. Minho feels guilty as he listens to her work on a Sunday evening, having done nothing himself for the whole day. Unless you count moping around as an activity.   It’s been a few hours since he and Jisung came back home, hand in hand. Jisung had been the one who grabbed his hand first, so of course Minho had accepted the gesture. Jisung’s fingers laced with his had been very comforting and warm and probably what got him through today’s panic attack. He swears his palms still tingle from the touch.   But now Jisung is gone, and even if they hadn’t talked much on their way home, Minho feels like it got so much more quiet when he left. He let his fingers touch his lips again, let them ghost over so subtly, remembering how it felt to have the younger’s sweet lips against his.   He misses the feeling already.   Minho’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a incoming call and he startles a little, his hand flying from his lips to his stomach with a loud smack. He feels like he just got caught, even though there’s no one here. He reaches for his phone that’s resting on the window sill and takes a double take when he realises it’s an unknown number calling him.   Minho never gets calls from unknown numbers.   He half expects it to be Changbin hyung, calling from the phone at his workplace.   “Yeah?” Minho asks, his voice barely audible. His throat feels dry from the lack of talking.   “Minho hyung? It’s Seungmin. I’m Jisung’s classmate.” A familiar voice says, and Minho sits up with surprise. He hadn’t heard from the younger ever since that one party.   “I know who you are.” Minho replies, a hint of worry in his voice. “Why are you calling me? Did something happen to Jisung?”   “Oh no, everything’s fine. Um-” Seungmin sounds a little anxious as he stops in the middle of the sentence and Minho wonders why. It’s not like Minho’s scary, right? “Woojin hyung gave me your number. We’re together right now.”   Minho smiles when the warm image of Woojin pops up in his head. “Oh, tell him I said hi. What are you two up to?”   “It’s hyung’s last day here before he has to leave for college again and so we thought why not go and just drive around for a bit, maybe find an old diner and eat something good. I know today’s a hard day for you, but we think you should come with us.” Seungmin rambles, and Minho realises he’s smiling already at the thought of hanging out with the two cousins. “We’re actually outside your house.”   “Wait, what?” Minho rushes up and looks out of the window, noticing the familiar car in his drive-through. Seungmin giggles into the phone and Minho sees the two boys wave at him from the car.   “You in?” Minho’s quite content as he sits in the back of Woojin’s van, listening to the two cousins argue in the front seat about some movie. He’s not really paying them that much attention, his eyes focused on the road. Driving through a forest always calms him down.   “I’m just saying! Captain America turning into that old man in the end of the movie really ruined it for me.” Seungmin says, crossing his arms on his chest as he pouts at the older in the driver’s seat.   “Why don’t you want him to be happy? He finally got to be with the girl of his dreams. That’s better than being a superhero, if you ask me.” Woojin says, his hands steadily holding onto the wheel.   “Ha!” Seungmin lets out a snort. “Well, no one asked you.”   “Seungminnie.” Woojin says, giving the younger a quick glance.   “Okay, I’m sorry.” Seungmin apologizes, heat rising to his cheeks. He must be really into the movie to get so heated over this. Seungmin turns around in his seat, giving Minho a hopeful look. “What do you think, Minho? Would you rather be a superhero or find true love?”   “Oh,” Minho breathes out loudly, turning away from Seungmin’s piercing gaze. It’s like the younger wants to steal his soul. “I-I’m not sure I can say much about this. I haven’t seen any of the Marvel movies.”   “You’re kidding?” Both of the boys ask at the same time, making them all laugh.   “I’m more into horror movies. And romance.” Minho says, shrugging. At the back of his mind, he remembers the time he watched a horror movie with Jisung. And how the younger had been almost stuck to his side because he was so scared. Minho feels like it’s been years since that night.   “That’s literally what Marvel movies are about.” Seungmin says, turning away from Minho again. “Right, hyung?”   “No, not really.” Woojin smiles and looks at Minho from the rear-view mirror. His brown eyes are as welcoming as ever. “Seungmin, you need to stop guilt tripping people into watching Avengers. It’s not cool.”   “Stop scolding me, I’m not your little brother.” Seungmin sticks his tongue out at the older and looks away from him, instead focusing on the scenery on the right side of the road. “It worked on you, though.” Seungmin says, his tone more quiet this time.   Minho smiles as he listens to his friends argue, for once feeling like he is with people who actually want him there, in their company. They drive for approximately 30 more minutes before Woojin pulls up at a diner that’s supposedly open 24 hours a day. It doesn’t look like an expensive place, but it’s cosy and inviting and seeing all the different people coming from different places to just grab a snack here makes Minho feel like he’s in some movie, on some mission to find himself.   They sit in the booth way back and order a weird combo of fries and milkshakes, because supposedly they taste amazing together and no, it’s not just Seungmin who has a weird taste in food.   “I’m surprised that this actually isn’t bad?” Minho says in disbelief, shaking his head a little. Who would’ve thought?   “Thank you! Finally someone who agrees with me.” Seungmin bows his head a little, before digging into the fries again.   “What do you mean? I’ve always liked dipping my fries into a milkshake.” Woojin says, pouting. Minho’s glad the other boys take up like 80% of the conversation, letting him just sit and enjoy the company. They don’t force him to talk and he appreciates that, Minho really likes being quiet most of the time.   “Well, obviously you don’t count, hyung. We’re like the same person anyway.” Seungmin says and that takes away the pout from the older’s face, making him smile in an approving way instead.   “Thank you.” Woojin nods. Minho thinks this is the time when they finally all stop talking and just enjoy the atmosphere, but of course it’s different with the Kim cousins.   “So, since we’re already talking about relationships and stuff-”   “Not smooth, Seungmin.” Woojin whispers, interrupting the younger.   “-I’ve never understood yours and Jisung’s.” Seungmin says, leaning his head on his elbow as he fully faces Minho. He bats his eyelashes, waiting.   “You’re annoying, you know that?” Minho says, but there’s no harshness in his words. “What do you wanna know?” He says, much to his own surprise. He doesn’t know why, but he trusts these people already.   “Well, I’ve been around Jisung for a long time. And I’m good at observing people, if I do say so myself. But, I swear I just don’t understand him? Is he happy?” Seungmin asks, and Minho feels himself being swallowed by the ground because he has no answers to give. He doesn’t know Jisung at all. “Does he like hanging out with all my stupid classmates? Miyeon?”   “Min, don’t call others stupid.” Woojin says, but the youngers don’t pay him any attention.   “I-I don’t know, Seungmin.” Minho bites his lip, making direct eye contact with the younger sitting across him. “I don’t think he’s happy with them. But I don’t know why he forces himself to be around those people either. Why he acts so fake. I remember when he wasn’t like that, you know.”   “Hyung, I really think, no, I believe Jisung is only happy with you.” Seungmin whispers, like it’s the biggest secret of the century and no one’s supposed to know. Woojin nods, but Minho’s not so sure. No one knows what Jisung’s feeling.   “Can you show me that Miyeon girl? I swear I only graduated a year ago but I already can’t remember any of the other kids.” Woojin asks Seungmin after a while, realising Minho has nothing else to add on the topic of Jisung.   He doesn’t know why he’s hiding the fact that they kissed today.   It’s not like Seungmin and Woojin hyung don’t know about his crush on Jisung. Or maybe it’s not even a crush, but it’s definitely something and Minho’s sure it’s very obvious to them.   Seungmin whips out his phone from his back pocket and scrolls through Instagram until he finds Miyeon’s account.   “Oh, see, this is a recent post. She posted this just a couple of minutes ago.” Seungmin says, handing the phone to Woojin without looking at it himself.   Woojin stares at the picture for a while and Minho just guesses he’s trying to remember the girl. But Woojin’s eyes have always been so readable to him and Minho knows it’s full sadness he sees in them as the older gives him the phone.   “You should see this.”   It doesn’t come as a full surprise. Minho had seen it coming, it had always made perfect sense.   It’s like when you look at the sky and you see the lighting strike and you know for sure that it’s gonna thunder any moment now-   But you still startle when you hear the loud noise.   Or when you’re standing by the toaster, waiting for the bread to pop out of it, and you know it will fly out any second. You just know.   But you’re heart still skips a beat when the toast finally pops out.   Minho just stares at the picture without feeling anything. He doesn’t feel how the time passes by or how life goes on around him or how his cheeks heat up or how the Kim cousins are staring at him with, waiting.   “What’s going on?” Seungmin finally whispers to Woojin.   “Jisung asked Miyeon out. They’re official.”     Maybe Minho should’ve been worried when Jisung left.

“I’m staying with you tonight, I’ll get freaking nightmares if I can’t check on him.” Nobara insisted when they had been released from the medbay. Yuuji was ordered to go straight to bed by Shoko after enduring a last check of his pups, both of them curled up strong despite what they’d gone through that night. Nanami all but hovering over the process to make sure they really were okay, shaken to the core by Maki’s report of the situation. Biting his tongue to hold back the lecture he wanted to give until Yuuji was in a better state to hear it and Sukuna wasn’t leaving him to deal with the fallout on his own. Megumi nodded along with Nobara’s statement, the trio heading back to the packroom together. “That’s fine, we won’t be doing anything but sleeping. Don’t know what you saw, but with how everyone is reacting it couldn’t have been pleasant. I want to know what happened, but I can tell by how you two look I should wait until tomorrow to ask.” “Thanks, both of you.” Yuuji responded gratefully, leaning against his mate while they walked. Nuzzling and scenting him, letting the alpha take on some of his weight. “I promise I’ll tell you Megumi, but I’m just so tired. I’m glad it worked, but it took a lot out of me. Sukuna too, but he’s being stubborn about admitting it.” “I know,” Megumi assured, tucking Yuuji against his side, stroking his back. “You’ve earned the rest. Let me take care of you and the pups for now. We’ll worry about everything else once you’ve recovered.” Yuuji slept like the dead for over twelve hours once he finally made it back to his nest. Glad they had put the cursed doll in the locked box before meeting with Yaga when all this started. They could stay just the way they were, he wanted his mate. Curling around Megumi and clinging tightly in a move that was somewhat unusual for him. He loved contact, but didn’t usually trap anyone in place, even when he was asleep. He moved for trips to the bathroom and nothing else. Megumi was getting concerned for his safety, and he wasn’t the only one, because Sukuna intervened. Prodding his host awake so they could feed themselves and the pups or he would have carried on like that even longer. Stumbling into the common area, they found it empty. Everyone off to classes or missions. But Megumi was able to put a bowl of noodles in front of him without too much waiting. After taking care of their by that point ravenous hunger the world started to make a bit more sense again. He was at least able to taste the second bowl, the first, not so much. “I’m surprised you aren’t with your sister. Diva and I can take care of this much, go to her queen. I know you want to.” Once again having two mouths was useful, not choking was a wonderful perk. It also made it so Megumi had half a chance of understanding him when he was practically inhaling his food. “I’m taking care of my mate first, she’ll understand. Probably be mad at me if I didn’t.” He disagreed, nuzzling into him gently. Valiantly resisting the urge to wrap his whole body around him and smother him with affection. They might like it, but the babies needed food more than he needed to satisfy his cuddle addiction after a full night of snuggling. “You both put yourself through a lot yesterday, most of it for my sake. Let me do this for you. I want to spoil you. It wasn’t a hardship to lay with you, not for a moment. You and the pups need to eat, then we can all go see Tsumiki when you’re feeling up to it. I’m sure she needs to rest too, it’ll take awhile to recover her strength, but she’s back. My sister’s really back. You did that for us.” Nobara had followed them, and took the opportunity to comment “I’m so glad it worked. I was a little worried when her system rejected Sukuna, but his backup plan was enough. Fucking crazy, but it worked.” “I know what I’m doing diva.” Sukuna chided, grateful when another bowl of noodles and a large glass of water was given to them without needing to ask. He had protected the pups and healed the damage to Yuuji’s body, but the overall strain would take a bit to recover from. “I might have had to switch things quickly, but it was to get that asshole away from our pack and the pups. It had to happen the way it did. If I had known he had a direct link to this place I would have done the exact same thing the day I got here using whichever curse I could find that worked for that purpose. Hell, one of Yaga’s stronger cursed dolls may have worked, but this was worth it. As much as we don’t know about this stranger currently in her head, she’s already better off without that monster sinking his claws into her brain. Trust me.” “I do.” Megumi insisted. “She told us that much. Yuuji tried apologizing and she wouldn’t let him. Granted Tsumiki might have been in shock, we all were, but she sounded sure of herself. I’d like to talk to the hybrid in her, but if she’s okay with the situation I’ll wait to panic until I know there’s something to worry about. Can’t keep getting worked up over nothing, I’ll exhaust myself before the real fight even starts.” “Agreed.” Yuuji added, at last not so hungry that he couldn’t join in the conversation. “Sukuna and I didn’t have much choice either, and we’ve been making it work. Hopefully they will too. He could be good to have around, maybe he could protect her while she’s recovering?” “Not so fast brat,” Sukuna warned. “He’s a pretty tough one, I have to give him that because not doing so will end badly for all of us, but he’ll be like a glass canon in that body. Until she can recover some muscle mass he’ll break her if he tries to fight. Using my own attempts to take over a host to guess what he might be capable of, there’s a good chance he could sustain a battle. One. But he’ll be in awful shape afterwards. Think about how badly you hurt after we arrived here and put ourselves through a full heat and reckless fighting. This body was relatively well conditioned, and we still strained our muscles. He’d tear theirs apart. Which doesn’t matter if you have no interest in your host; either because you can just heal yourself or you can survive their death. I’ve been on both sides of that issue, but I don’t know where he will fall on it and that bothers me. We want him to maintain her and while he’s already proven to have survived without a host, I do not know that he can heal. Hybrid powers are unpredictable at best, his kind even more so.” “So him fighting is a suicide mission?” Nobara realized, vocalizing for the group what Megumi couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge just yet. Sukuna had no such hesitations. “Potentially, yes. At least for Tsumiki. This depends on his powers and her strength of course, but as things stand there’s about a fifty-fifty chance it’s true. I felt that hybrid personally for a reason, I got a measure of his strength. I know he has the raw power for healing, what I don’t know is if he can actually do it. There wasn’t enough time to confirm that along with everything else that needed to happen.” “Couldn’t you tell by the state of her body after he took over?” Yuuji asked. “I mean you healed absolutely everything wrong with me, even went a little too far with the whole cleansing my blood thing. Our pups are proof of that. He did something similar. You started healing her, sure, but didn’t he finish?” “Yes, but that could just be part of the host process. Like I said hybrid powers are unpredictable.” Sukuna clarified. “There is no way of knowing if it was an instinctual thing he did to acquire a suitable vessel, or if he can do it consciously. There’s a pretty big difference. It is equally possible that it only happens when he takes over a new host or that he has control over it to whatever degree he has learned or been taught how to manipulate it. Yet another possibility comes to mind that it might be a mix of both where his ability is also triggered whenever her life is in mortal danger, but no other times and he can’t heal anyone else.” “I feel like we are starting to get into the territory that if you don’t tell me what happened yesterday I’m going to get very lost, very fast.” Megumi stopped the musing before it could go down an even deeper rabbit hole. “Before we do, I’ve got to ask one more time, are you absolutely sure you want to know?” Yuuji spoke seriously, taking Megumi’s hand and squeezing it. “I’m not trying to avoid you or break my promise, but it’s a lot and you shouldn’t need to deal with that when we’re okay and Tsumiki is awake. Do you need to know how that happened?” “Yes, he does.” Nobara insisted. “Yuuji. Do not try to dodge this one. Megumi didn’t see anything, but he should know about it, because that kind of shit doesn’t just go away. You broke down sobbing last night.” “He what?!” Megumi exclaimed, worried. “When did that happen?” Yuuji stared down at the table in defeat, not looking at his mate. “When I left to take a shower. She came with me, and I just got overwhelmed. I think it was the pups and everything all at once, plus I was really tired. I feel better today. Really.” “He lasted longer than I thought he would.” Sukuna surfaced again. “He knew what was coming, and I’m kind of surprised you didn’t seem to realize that diva. How else would he know to warn all of you away? Still, I had no choice but to bring him along with me while I did it. And I’d do it again. He knows it too.” “Yes, I do.” Yuuji agreed, quietly. “Guys, I could see his plans. Both of them. I don’t think I could have finished if it was up to me, but it wasn’t. That doesn’t mean I didn’t agree though. You didn’t see into Sukuna’s memories, I did. We got complacent again, treating Sukuna like he’s human when he’s not. He saw a problem and fixed it his way, and I don’t think he was wrong to do it. Not after what I saw.” “The both of you should really start telling me what’s going on, please? I don’t like feeling left out of things this important to you.” Megumi pleaded. So they did. Sukuna doing the majority of it, explaining the process as clinically as he could before finishing off with, “The best way to make sure I wasn’t going to unleash further hell into the situation was to test out the hybrid on myself. I knew it would be okay, I built up our strength first. Fucking punk was strong, but brat and I know ourselves better than he does. Takes more than power to beat us. Besides, pretty sure I know the little punk. Or at least of him.” Sukuna confessed. “How in the world do you know him? Why didn’t you say anything?” Yuuji demanded before the others could. “I doubt we ever met personally, I know him by reputation mostly, and the feeling I get from his power.” Sukuna answered. “I learned about him from the scattered vessels I’ve had over the centuries since being sealed. My usual priority is checking to make sure the bastard is still fucking dormant, that’s what caught me so off guard to find him back when he shouldn't be. This hybrid is connected to him personally.” “I know he’s one of the experimental subjects that the bastard was creating, Yaga said that much when he told us about them in the first place, is there anything else?” Yuuji was serious, brow furrowed thinking about it. Flashing back to the memories that gave Sukuna a panic attack. “I’ll leave it for him to say just in case I’m wrong in my guess, but I don’t think I am.” Sukuna decided. “And don’t go snooping around brat, you really won’t like what you find. I tried to warn you last time. Just don’t.” “I won’t dig around until you’re ready to show me things because that’s your business, but don’t think I’m weak. I won’t back down from what I saw, Sukuna. I’m your brat. Let me at least try to understand so that when you do something like yesterday, I can have your back. I didn’t stop you, all I did was try to keep the others away so they wouldn’t have to see it.” Yuuji pointed out. “The more I learn about you the more I trust your reasoning even if your methods aren’t how I would handle things. And that’s okay. We shouldn’t have to think the same way. I’d prefer we didn’t have to hurt anyone, but yesterday wasn’t about the pain we were causing, it was about the pain we were preventing. It required us to inflict pain in order to avoid more later, and I can understand that even if I don’t like it. I’ve learned that much from you.” “Great, glad you two are all cozy with it, but when I see my friend and pack leader with their hand through their own goddamned chest, I reserve the right to fucking slap you. I knew it wouldn’t do much to actually harm you, but it made me feel better.” Nobara immediately countered. “You succeeded and I’m glad, but you also would have committed suicide right in front of me if you weren’t able to stitch yourself back together. I thought you might lose the babies over all this. Blood loss is no joke, and then there’s shock to worry about. Do you understand Sukuna? We didn’t panic because of the blood or brutality, we see that all the time, but because of someone we love treating themselves like they’re expendable.” “I didn’t though. Not me, or brat, and the pups were never in any danger at all. They slept through the whole thing.” Sukuna assured. “It was a risk, I acknowledged that from the beginning, but a very calculated one. I did things in a precise order, controlling everything I could to make sure I got the outcome we did. The only thing I couldn’t entirely control was the actions of that hybrid, and even then I picked the one least likely to cause me issues, because again, pretty sure I know him. None of you are expendable and I sure as hell wouldn’t think that about my pups. What makes my pack and pups important is the fact they are mine. Hit me all you want diva, I chose you because of your willingness to fight for your beliefs, but it won’t change me. I am the King, I will do what needs to be done. Always.” “Sukuna, we should probably tell them about what happened with that bastard. It would help them understand you better, and I think it would be good for you.” Yuuji coaxed. “I don’t like that I have to explain myself for people to get that he’s fucking evil and shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Why should I debase myself to prove it, seems rumor is enough. Look at how I’m remembered, when I doubt there is a single book that mentions him. His hosts, yes, but not the fact they all have a common link.” Sukuna protested. “Don’t do that. You are trying to distract, -again- from the fact you had a very painful thing happen that you haven’t dealt with, pretty much at all, in several hundred years. Not counting when you were sealed.” Yuuji wouldn’t let him get away with the misdirect yet again. “If I’m going to do this, it will be once and only once. We should go see devil, and perhaps rouse that little punk. Because I am not repeating myself no matter how irritating he gets if he finds out and wants to know things about the asshole he doesn’t already.” Sukuna bargained. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re treating him like a pup or a brother.” Megumi noticed, bemused with a soft expression on his face. “Both.” Yuuji didn’t hide his smile. “He’s treating him like a little brother. An annoying little brother.” “...Is that normal, or because you’re stuffed with pups?” Nobara asked curiously. Yuuji shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine this time. No idea. Might have something to do with being pregnant, but we also had him as part of us for a short period of time. Could be feeling protective of him from that. Or, wait, maybe he likes him because of where he knows him from?” “You will never know.” Sukuna insisted. “Except that I do not like that punk, he’s fucking frustrating and I only talked to him for a few moments.” “All of the above is the correct answer.” Nobara realized. “He’s getting defensive.” “How about we go see how Tsumiki is doing today and find out?” Megumi decided to get them back on track. Not wanting them to lose sight of Sukuna finally agreeing to tell his story. “Let’s go.” Yuuji allowed. “I want to make sure she’s okay, and I’d like to meet him if he’s willing to talk to us.” “He might if there aren't so many people around. Let’s keep it relatively small with just us, and maybe devil.” Sukuna advised. “She’ll want to be there to monitor us I’m sure. Stopping her just isn’t worth it.” With the plan in mind, they headed back to their rooms to change, agreeing to meet back up to head over to the medbay together.

****************** Late August 2022 Precinct - Monday Afternoon 12p ****************** It had been a busy morning for the Captain and her squad. As soon as Fin, Amanda, and Velasco walked into the precinct the sergeant was hit with an office groping case. Soon after Fin headed out, Amanda and Velasco were sent to Hudson University, where videos secretly recorded by a peeping Tom of students getting undressed had surfaced on the school’s intranet. Meanwhile Liv’s day started with an impromptu meeting with McGrath, followed by a scheduled one with Lorraine Maxwell at the DA’s Office. Nothing came of the groping incident, which Fin eventually figured out was fabricated. However, Amanda and Velasco’s case would be something the two of them would need to spend more time looking into after conducting an initial investigation at the campus. Amanda, who had been on the go with Velasco all morning, was looking forward to continuing their work back at the precinct. Mainly because she was feeling physically exhausted; for a reason only she was privy to. However not long after her and Velasco returned to the squad room, followed soon after by the Captain, another call came in. Liv, who took the call, quickly gathered her detectives together by Amanda’s desk and handed the case off. “Fin, I need you and Rollins to head out to Dalton Academy on the Upper West Side. School nurse just reported a possible case of child abuse.” She turned to Velasco. “I want you to stay here and keep combing through the videos to see if any clues pop up as to who the voyeur may be.” Both Fin and Velasco nodded and made their way back to their desks while Amanda got up from her chair and stopped Liv, who had started walking back to her office, and pulled her off to the side. “Could Velasco go with Fin and I keep looking through the videos?” Amanda asked quietly. “I know I have a good rapport with kids but so does he and I’m feeling a little rundown today. I could use an hour or two off my feet.” Liv stared at her a bit curiously for a moment, but simply nodded. “OK.” Amanda headed back to her desk while Liv made her way over to Fin and Velasco. “Change of plans. Velasco I want you to go with Fin while Rollins will hang here and continue looking through the videos.” He nodded. The two then quickly collected their things and made their way out. Liv headed back to her office and started working through some paperwork. As she did she noticed Amanda get up and go to the bathroom not once but twice within a 30 minute period and for what seemed like uncharacteristically long stretches. When she emerged from the restroom after her second trip, Liv got the blonde’s attention and motioned for Amanda to come into her office. Once Amanda closed the door and took a seat across from Liv, the Captain wasted no time getting to the topic at hand. “What’s going on Rollins?” She asked as she removed her glasses and placed them down on her desk. “Is this post vacation fatigue or something else?” Amanda ran a hand through her hair. “It’s…exactly what you think it is.” She took a quick breath, exhaled, and told her, “I’m pregnant.” Though Liv assumed that she was, hearing Amanda so willingly admit it without much prodding surprised her, but in a good way. It also had her wondering if maybe her and Sonny had been trying for a baby. But before she could get her question out Amanda continued speaking. “While we were vacationing in Cape May last week, I felt a little under the weather, but kind of sporadically. It’s when I realized I might be pregnant. So when we got back on Saturday I went out, picked up a couple of tests and discreetly took them while Sonny and the girls were occupied. They all came back positive.” “Did you tell him yet?” Amanda shook her head. “No, not yet. There was a lot going on. We spent most of the weekend unpacking, catching up on laundry, and getting the girls ready for their final week of day camp. It just didn’t feel like the right time. But I was gonna tell him tonight.” Liv nodded slowly and though she was thrilled to hear the news, she wasn’t quite sure how Amanda was feeling about it. “So is this a good thing?” She finally asked her. “Did you want a third baby?” Amanda smiled softly. “It is a good thing. While I didn’t see myself having another one after Billie, now that I know I will be I’m excited about it. Because I know Carisi’s going to be an amazing dad to this baby.” Liv smiled back at her. “I still can’t believe I’m gonna be starting over and having a baby at 41.” Amanda said. “Does it seem crazy to you?” She asked a little worriedly, biting her lip. Liv shook her head. “No. If I had found a loving and supportive partner like Carisi at your age I probably would’ve tried for one.” “Yeah?” The Captain nodded. “But my life went a little differently. The jury’s still out on how things will go in the romantic department but as for the rest of my life, I couldn’t be happier with how it’s all turned out. Noah entering my life when he did was such a blessing. I’m very fortunate.” Amanda smiled. “He’s a keeper.” “He sure is.” Liv said agreeing. “You know, it’s interesting to hear you say you would’ve considered having a baby at my age.” Amanda admitted. “Because even though Carisi and I probably should’ve had the baby discussion, considering how old I am and the fact that I already have two kids, we hadn’t.” The Captain seemed a little surprised. “Really?” She nodded. “There was just so many other things to think about. We’ve been together for a year and a half now, but those first nine months were spent keeping our relationship hush hush. Even from the girls. So we could take some time to navigate the dynamics and, at least in my case, to build up the guts to share it with the world. Because I was so afraid that defining what we were might some how ruin it.” “But it didn’t.” Liv pointed out. “It didn’t.” Amanda concurred. “It just made him and I stronger. And then once we finally disclosed we spent the next few months making sure the girls were comfortable with everything and for them and I to get to know his family better.” She looked down at her left hand, which now sported a subtly beautiful diamond on her ring finger. “Then we got engaged and a lot of our focus has been on planning a wedding of some kind in the near future.” Liv nodded slowly. “I can see why it wasn’t on your radar. At least initially. But do you think you chose to not bring it up to him because deep down you worried you might not be on the same page about it?” Amanda sighed. “A little. I mean, I am genuinely happy about the baby but it’s like I said earlier. I was pretty sure I was done after two and I probably wouldn’t have actively sought this path. Even though Carisi didn’t have kids and, knowing the kind of guy he is, would likely want at least one.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “Because when him and I were talking about disclosing, he brought up how he didn’t want to be ‘Uncle Sonny’ forever. And at the time I figured he was referring to Jesse and Billie; that he wanted the girls to know who I really was to him and be seen by them as more of a pseudo, and eventually official, stepdad instead of a family friend and godfather. But later on I started wondering if he also meant he wanted to be a dad in his own right someday.” Liv nodded and sat quietly as she carefully strung together her thoughts and then responded. “Last year Carisi said something that really struck a chord and made me feel for him.” She sat up straighter in her chair. “He said at his age he always thought he’d be married and that he’d have kids. And it was clear to me it saddened him he wasn’t and that he didn’t. Because those were things he really longed for.” Amanda frowned a bit, but stayed quiet and let Liv continue. “Then a short time later you and the girls came into his life in the way he’s always wanted you all to be in it.” She said to her. “And it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Even during a tough, stressful day in court. Because he knows at the end of it he gets to go home to his family. And you three…” Liv cleared her throat and in her best iteration of a Staten Island accent said, “Are the only ones that can make those bad days good again.” A grin spread across Amanda’s face. “Carisi’s going to be over the moon when he finds out the two of you will be having a baby, but he’s also over the moon about the life he currently shares with you and the girls. I don’t think he was ever oblivious to the fact that a biological child might not be in the cards for him. I think the reason he never brought up the baby topic to you was because it wasn’t something he needed to be happy. It didn’t matter that Jesse and Billie don’t come from him. They’re the kids he’s always wanted and you’re the only woman he’s ever wanted it. It’s why he gave you that ring.” Amanda found herself growing emotional. “We’re lucky to have him.” She said as she wiped away happy tears from her eyes. Liv nodded but then followed up by saying, “And he’s lucky to have you.” Just then a patrol officer knocked on the door and slowly opened it after getting the OK from Liv. “Chief McGrath had this file sent over for you Captain.” He said as he walked over to her and handed Liv the folder. She thanked the officer, who then quickly exited and closed the door behind him. Amanda stood up. “I better get back to those peeping Tom videos.” Liv nodded, got up from her desk and walked her to the door. She gave Amanda a hug. “I’m happy for you Rollins. I can’t wait to see what a mini you and Carisi will be like.” “I can’t either.” Amanda said when they pulled apart. “But if I had to guess I’d say trouble.” She laughed. Liv playfully rolled her eyes and chuckled. The blonde’s cheerful demeanor then slowly became a bit more serious. “I know I gave you a lot of that over the years.” She told her. “Thank you for not giving up on me when most would’ve. For being a good Captain but an even better friend. I’m lucky to have you in my life.” Liv gave her a small smile. “Ditto.” Amanda grinned and then as she opened the door to head out, Liv said to her, “Let me know how it goes with Carisi tonight.” “Full report comin’ your way tomorrow, boss.” She said. Amanda then made her way out of the office while Liv headed back to her chair and returned her attention to the files on her desk. ****************** Sonny and Amanda’s Apartment - Monday Night 10p ****************** Despite having a hectic morning, things thankfully slowed down for Amanda later in the afternoon and she got home to the girls at a decent time. However Sonny, who was roped into assisting with an Organized Crime Control Bureau case as soon as he got into work, had to stay late. Since she had the time Amanda tried to come up with a fun, cutesy way to tell Sonny about the baby. But pregnancy brain got the best of her. Still, she didn’t wanna wait any longer to tell him so Amanda decided that when he got home she wouldn’t try to do come up with anything witty. Instead she’d just be straightforward and come right out with it. An exhausted looking Sonny eventually made it home around 10p. “Hey,” He said to his fiancé, who was sitting in the living room watching TV. Amanda lowered the television with the clicker, got up from the sofa and greeted him by the entryway with a kiss. “You look so tired.” She said to him sympathetically. “I am.” He said as he set his briefcase down and hung up his keys. The two then made their way into the kitchen together. “I’m guessing you already ate but I ordered a pizza for me and the girls and there’s a lot left. Do you want me to reheat a couple of slices for you in the oven?” “No I’m good.” He told her. “Just goin’ to make a cup of coffee. Do you want one?” Amanda shook her head no and sat down at the table. “How was your day?” Sonny asked as he stood by the Keurig preparing his coffee. She ran a hand through her hair. “My morning was pretty hectic, but things eventually started to slow down. I still can’t believe I didn’t see you even once today. That rarely happens, unless you’re in the middle of a trial. Velasco had to go to Nolan Price to get a search warrant. You were actually busier than him.” He chuckled. “I’m always busier than him Rollins. Because as executive ADA he hands off a majority of his minor requests to peasant ADA’s like myself.” Amanda playfully rolled her eyes at him. “Did you make any headway with that peeping Tom case you were texting me about?” He asked as he poured some creamer into his coffee. “A little.” She said as she absentmindedly played with her necklace. “Getting there.” Sonny poured some sugar into his mug and stirred it into his coffee with a spoon. “How were things here tonight? Anything exciting happen?” “Not really.” She told him. “But I do have something exciting to tell you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” Sonny instantly dropped his mug and, though he didn’t spill any coffee on himself, the hot liquid scattered all over the floor and the mug broke into a bunch of small pieces. Before commenting Sonny, as well as Amanda’s, eyes briefly shifted from each other to the door of the girls’ room, which remained closed. Once confident he hadn’t woken Jesse and Billie, Sonny redirected his attention back to his fiancé, who had gotten up from her seat at the table. “You’re really pregnant?” He asked, knowing he hadn’t misheard her, but still wanting her to repeat herself for reassurance. Amanda gave him a small smile and nodded. Tears started to well up in his eyes. He then carefully dodged the remnants of his coffee on the floor and made his way over to her. Sonny kissed Amanda passionately and then gently pulled her into his arms. “I can’t believe we’re goin’ to have a baby.” He said quietly into her ear. “I’m so happy.” “Me too.” She whispered back. When they finally pulled apart his gaze immediately drifted down to her stomach and he stared at it in awe. “How did this even happen?” Amanda jokingly began explaining. “Well, when two people love each other, they often like to express that love by—“ “Alright, alright.” He said laughing. “I’m surprised about it too.” She told him. “But I took four tests and they all came back VERY positive.” He smiled and gently stroked her hair. “So you’re really OK with this? Because I always figured a third baby was probably something you weren’t interested in intentionally pursuing.” “Probably not.” She admitted aloud to him for the first time. “But things happen for a reason and I’m glad that I get to have a baby with you. Because you’re already the best dad there is to the girls and I know you’ll be just as amazing to this little one of ours on the way.“ “I’m glad I get to have a baby with you too.” He told her sincerely. “But I want you to know I didn’t need one. Being able to share and build a life with you and the girls is all I’ve ever wanted.” Sonny placed his hand on her stomach. “The baby is the icing on top of the already sweet and wonderful cake I call my life. One I’m so thankful I’ve been blessed with.” He knelt down, lifted her shirt up a bit and kissed her stomach. “I love you…” Sonny stood up and kissed Amanda. “And I love you and the girls so very much.” “We love you too.” She said smiling at him. The two continued to gaze deeply into each other’s eyes when both Amanda and Sonny caught glimpse of Frannie licking up the coffee on the kitchen floor. “Frannie, no.” She said to the dog, who ignored the command and continued to lick up the coffee. “I hope you’re ready for when the baby tries to do stuff like this.” Amanda chuckled as she gently led Frannie out of the kitchen and then began picking up the broken mug pieces. Sonny jokingly cringed, but then laughed. He then soaked up the coffee with paper towels while Amanda grabbed the Swiffer from the bathroom closet.

Aizawa hadn’t realized how much weight he was unintentionally carrying until some of it left his shoulders at the sight before him. Not all of it left, he still had a lot of things that were weighing on his mind. He still had to figure out what Shinsou knew, figure out what the Miasma was, how it worked, how to dismantle it, and that doesn’t include his other cases or his duties that come with being a teacher. It had taken him hours to talk with Naomasa about what he thought was happening at the station. He ended up explaining a couple of concepts and theories a multitude of times. Sansa looked beyond unconvinced as he talked but Naomasa hummed along encouragingly. He ended up showing some of his supporting evidence that he luckily kept on his phone, that was finally able convince Sansa that at least one of his fellow officers were in the Miasma. By the time he got home it was seven at night, which officially means that he spent 8 hours at Sansa’s house discussing the case.The apartment seemed almost eerily empty to him when he first came in. The kitchen and the living room void of anyone and had a strange stillness in the air. The only thing that put him to ease as he settled in was the soft music he could hear coming from his bedroom. It was when he heard a loud thunk followed by a shout from Shinsou’s room did he become more alert. With his heart pounding as thoughts rushed to his head that the Miasma found out about their conversation, he went to the room. He didn’t waste time in knocking on the door but threw the door open with the handle firmly grasped in his hand. Five startled sets of wide eyes and cards fluttering to the ground is the sight that had greeted him. Shinsou was laying propped up in his bed with a set of cards in his hands.His face was still flushed with his lingering fever and he had a deer in headlights look as he stared at him. Uraraka was sitting crossed legged at the end of the bed with her jaw dropped as she stared at him with cards slowly falling out of her hands. Midoriya was sitting on the small ledge at the window as he fumbled with picking up the cards he tossed in the air when the door had opened. Iida was now standing at his spot in front of the desk chair that flew back when he got up abruptly at the sound. He was standing rim rod straight with his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say. The last person in the room was Asui, who was sitting on top of the desk with her legs swinging out in front of her. She put down a single card in the stack in the middle of the bed and claimed Uno, completely ignoring the atmosphere. “Hello Sensei,” Asui croaked after she decided to declare herself as the winner when no one continued the card game. “Hello.” He replied slightly startled. Having five kids in the room is not what he had expected when he came home today. It wasn’t anything he anticipated from Shinsou either. He didn’t think Shinsou was friendly with anyone, let alone be close enough for people to come visit him outside of school. “We can leave if you want!” Uraraka blurted out as she tried to break the now awkward air. “We didn’t mean to intrude!” “I apologize Sensei! I didn’t mean to betray any trust by bringing them here.” Iida said matter of factly as he adjusted his skewed glasses on his face. “It’s fine Iida!” Aizawa jumped at the sound of his husbands voice so close to his ear as he interrupted the long speal that was sure to come from Iida. He gave the man a sharp glare when he started to tug him away from the door. “Just continue you what you were doing!” He begrudgingly let Hizashi pull him into the living room and deposited him on the couch. Hizashi quickly joined him with his legs crossed underneath him as he sat sideways on the cushion to face him. A large smile was on his face as he slowly leaned in closer to his until he huffed in fake irritation and pushed him away gently. Hizashi let out a small laugh at the display but fixed his position so their sides were pressed up against each other. “So, this is progress.” Hizashi mumbled as his eyes darted to the hall and back to him. “Should have known, Izuku ‘Knows No Boundaries’ Midoriya would have became friends with Shinsou.” It was good progress. It was slightly jarring to see that many of his student’s in his house at one time, but it wasn’t unwanted. He was glad that Shinsou was finally talking and hanging out with kids his own age and that it was outside of training. Having Shinsou socializing was one less thing he could be concerned about. It had weighed on his mind heavily about how to try and integrate Shinsou into a normal life. Well, as normal as they could get it to be with his background and their lives. Having him train with Iida was a nice way to break the ice and get him used to talking with other students, but he had to admit that he didn’t think it would lead anywhere. Shinsou was always closed off and if he did talk, it was to snark at them. However, seeing him play a normal card game with his peers, proved that wrong. “Well,sooner or later one of the students in that class would have forced their way in.” Aizawa sighed as he thought over his class. “It was bound to happen when you put him with that group of kids.” “Speaking of your class, have you decided who I’ll be fighting against for the finals?” “I was thinking Jirou and Koda.” “Sound vs sound, sounds rad!” Hizashi exclaimed excitedly before settling down quickly against his shoulder, like that outburst sapped the rest of his energy. It was a long day for the both of them. He knows that Hizashi got out of school and headed straight to the station to do his show and plan more ahead. He also knows that he’s running on little less than four hours of sleep with him patrolling the other day. They both really just needed a break for a while. It was silent for a bit, just enjoying each other’s company while they listened to the excited shouts and sounds of complaints that came from Shinsou’s room as their game progressed. Minutes ticked by until Hizashi turned his head to look at him, his chin pressing against the top of his shoulder. “What are we going to do about the camp?” “The training camp?” “Yeah, I have to go to that convention in Hotsu and you’re going up in the mountains. What are we going to do with Shinsou?” “I could take him with me.” “Is that really the smartest idea?” Hizashi said leaning back slightly to take in his whole face. “You’d be too busy with your students and helping with Kan’s to be able to focused on him.” “It’ll be fine, he’s not a little kid.” “You want him to be surrounded by that amount of training? I don’t think that’s a good idea, you saw what had happened with All Might.” Hizashi is probably right. No, he was right. Shinsou has always been weird with training instances. It was fine when it was with Iida because there were no quirks used and it was one on one. Shinsou also had complete control over their training, there was no surprises or any expectations from him during their training. It was vastly different when there was a bunch of people using their quirks in a room. Shinsou was always tense and on high alert, even when he was on the sidelines. Being at the camp with not only his students but with Kan’s, and with them focusing on increasing their quirks, was not the best idea. “What do you have in mind then?”Aizawa asked. “What if we get someone to watch him?” “That’s a good idea, but who? Everyone we know is busy that weekend.” “Well,” Hizashi’s voice singsonged. “We do know one person that’s free that weekend.” “No.” He deadpanned quickly. No, not her. She’s beyond qualified but he doesn’t know how Shinsou would react with a personality like theirs and to be frank, he doesn’t want to know. “Come on! She’s perfect! She’s free, has the place to herself, doesn’t even have patrol! It’ll be perfect!” Hizashi reasoned. “Besides! It’ll only be for a couple of days until my thing is done and I can come pick him up.” “Fine, but you’re dealing with any consequences with them meeting. I do not want to know how many things he could learn from her. Even in that short amount of time.”   --------------------------------------------------------------   27 sat with a pencil clenched hard enough in his fist that his hand ached. He stared down at the blank paper in his lap as if it was mocking him. The cards that they were playing with earlier was safely tucked away under his mattress along with the other things he has collected since his arrival. At first he didn’t want the cards and he had tried to give it back to Uraraka. However, she kept insisting that he keep them. At first he thought that she must have seen him sneak away one of the reverse Uno cards earlier and she felt bad for him or he ruined the deck, but she said it was so when they come visit next time, they’d have something to play. The group quickly took their leave after Iida pointed out how late it was getting and it was a school night. He could hear them from his room refusing Mic’s invite to stay for dinner and exit the apartment. As soon as that front door closed, the levity of the atmosphere went way and the reality of everything came crashing down around him. Eraser was onto him and he was too close for comfort. He was like a dog with a bone and he knew won’t let it go anytime soon. The suspicion was easily read on Eraser’s face any time he sees him and it only mounts as time passes. It was only a matter of time before he corners him and questions him. Even with his tactics, he could only avoid him for so long. He has no idea what he would say to Eraser when it comes to that. If he tells him too much, the Miasma is will find out and there will be consequences. He cant risk having the Miasma find out he spilled anything, he still hasn’t figured out how he’s going to get out of it. If he tells too little, Eraser is too suspicious not to know he’s still hiding things, and would push for everything. He just needs to find a nice balance. With that somewhat figured out, it only remains one other major pressing issue that he needed to do. His report to the Miasma was due tonight and it had to be good. It needed something. Last weeks report was lackluster and he’s sure it was disappointing. He needed to make up for that and the only thing that comes to his mind was the big revelation of the week, perhaps the century. That Toshinori Yagi was All Might. He had told Midoriya that he wouldn't tell anyone but he could always go back on his word. Even if Midoriya somehow found out that he had told the Miasma, it would be too late too late to change anything. It had little risk for him if he told the Miasma. It wasn’t like he had too much to risk if Midoriya did tell Eraser everything. If Eraser hasn’t figured out that he was involved with the incident by now, he was at least close in putting it together. Which leaves Midoriya’s threat null. Miasma’s unspoken threat had a stronger pull than Midoriya’s. If he doesn’t tell them, and they find out, it’ll be so much worse for him than anything Midoriya could do or say. 27’s stomach turned and his lungs clenched tightly in his chest as he thought over his options. If he tells, Toshinori would be in a world of hurt. It might take awhile for someone willing to fork over the amount of cash that they want in exchange, but it will happen. If he doesn't tell, he’d run the risk and be the one on the chopping block. He breathed heavily through his nose in attempt to calm his staggered breathing. He pressed the pen against the paper and started his report, simply starting with his basic observations. Telling the Miasma about All Might can wait. It’s not like there was a time limit on it and he could always say he found out later than he actually did. What he needs to write is something that would be important enough to report but nothing that can directly harm anyone. If he couldn’t figure out something, he’d have no choice but to write about All Might. He gnawed at the bottom of his lip as he tried to wrack his sluggish brain about anything that he could report. There was the instance of Mic going to leave town in a week but that didn’t seem like anything that the Miasma would find useful. He could write about how Aizawa was closing in on them, and how his cover is about to get blown. That was his main purpose of coming here anyways. The pen glided jaggedly across the page as he wrote. His hand was too tense for any fluid movement and the sudden cough would jerk the pen across the page. It was messy but it was legible. Memory should be able to make out what he wrote. What worried him was that the page wasn’t even a quarter way full. It looked so blank and empty compared to his previous reports. It needed something else to help fill the page, something to make it thicker. 27 pursed his lips before he was struck with the realization of what he should write. Finals for the students were this week right before summer break. He had heard Eraser discuss with not only Mic but also Vlad King about a training camp. The details were slim, but he did get that they were going to be training with the Wild Wild Pussy Cats in the mountains somewhere. It wasn’t a lot, but the Miasma could probably piece together enough information to figure out exactly where it’s going to be located. It was the perfect information to write about. It wasn’t important enough for the Miasma to know or sell for large amount, but it was big enough that it looked like he was giving away everything he had learned this week and that he was getting semi-useful information. It was a harmless side note to everything that had actually learned. No one truly cares about where some UA class was going to be for a week, so he doubts anyone would buy that information. The training camp was irrelevant and it was harmless information to give away.

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the plot. Thanks and enjoy. Valentine's Day It was ten minutes until the end of Detective John Blake's shift. Just ten more minutes and then he could get the hell out of the squad room and head home. He'd gotten used to days like this, he reminded himself, days when the cops around him gave him suspicious looks or made snide little comments to make it clear what they thought of the fact that he was sleeping with one of the most dangerous suspected criminals in Gotham. He didn't expect them to understand his relationship with Bane, hell, half the time he didn't get it either. But at the end of the day he and his lover didn't mix business with pleasure and that was that. His division didn't operate in Bane's territory and neither of them talked about their work in order to avoid the other learning something they shouldn't know. And technically Bane didn't have a criminal record, the man was just a living legend in the criminal underworld and was feared by pretty much everyone who encountered him. So while his fellow cops had heard plenty about him they didn't have any actual evidence since that tended to disappear as quickly as the man's enemies. So yeah, hooking up with the guy hadn't been one of his smartest decisions, but he'd made worse. Probably. And it wasn't like he saw them as having a future, for Christ's sake. It would never work. That they'd lasted three months was a minor miracle. The fact that he'd never had a relationship last this long was just the icing on the cake, Blake thought with a small sigh, his eyes once again being drawn over to the desk nearest his. Deena's husband had had the roses delivered that morning and the smell was almost driving him as crazy as why the man had sent them in the first place. It was Valentine's Day. When you grew up the way he had you learned not to give a shit about holidays, and part of the reason his track record dating wise was crap was because he was married to his job and didn't have a romantic bone in his body. And Bane had to be the same way, so there was no reason to think that the fact that they were getting together later required him to, in any way, shape or form, acknowledge the commercial holiday currently going on. But what if the man was expecting something? They'd only been having sex during Christmas so that hadn't been an issue. It was only in the last month that they'd actually started to spend the night together and keep each other company with clothes still on. They weren't really dating…but they sorta were too. Dammit. "So, Blake, got big plans tonight with your Quasimodo on steroids?" Eyes narrowing ever so slightly Blake kept his cool and refused to rise to the bait. Sort of. "As a matter of fact BANE is coming to my place tonight. But no need to be jealous, McGreedy. I'm sure eventually you'll manage to save up enough to pay a human being to sleep with you. It should only take you a few more decades, and hey, in the spirit of the holiday I'll chip in ten." Blake wasn't even really surprised when the now red faced man threw the punch. Maybe he'd been hoping for the chance to alleviate his tension so that Bane wouldn't notice it later. Either way he simply moved his head out of the way and didn't attack, knowing the man would look more foolish for it. Drawing back his fist again McGreedy didn't get a chance to throw it, the cold voice of their commissioner slashing across the room like a nine-tailed whip. Everyone straightening and coming to attention both men assured Gordon that nothing was the matter when he demanded to know what the hell was going on. Nothing, they assured him, nothing at all. "Then I think your shift is over now, Blake. Why don't you head on out." "Yes, Sir." ) Stepping out of the elevator Bane loosened the bright red scarf Talia had wrapped around him earlier, insisting that it was just the thing since it would not only cover up his mask but get him into the holiday spirit. She'd had a gleam in her eyes that he hadn't liked, especially when she'd told him to have a nice time with his detective. The two had never met of course, his connection to her couldn't be known to anyone outside the League, but he was beginning to think that Talia didn't like that he was involved with someone. Which was foolish, as his loyalty was absolute. There was no one more devoted to her than him. The relationship he had with Detective Blake was merely a sexual one that would no doubt end before the snow left Gotham City for the year. If not sooner. Yes there was something about the man that…drew him, but that was because Detective Robin John Blake was a puzzle and one he had yet to solve to his satisfaction. The man kept pieces of himself hidden and guarded, refusing to show them to him. But he had most of them now, and Bane was confident that it was only a matter of time before he could anticipate the man's every move instead of constantly being caught off guard by how different the man was in comparison to anyone he'd ever known. As it was he was still trying to figure out why the dedicated and un-corruptible cop had propositioned him in the first place. It had started at Inception, a bar his Talia owned and one that he enjoyed visiting on occasion. His little bird wasn't much for such places but had started coming somewhat regularly in October to walk one of the bar's waitresses, who was his neighbor, home at night due to a small gang that had been making trouble in their area. The chemistry between them had been immediate that first night, when they'd both been scanning the room for trouble and had locked eyes instead. He would never forget that moment as long as he lived. And it had kept happening every time they saw each other, both intimately aware of the other and left shaken when one forced his gaze to drop away. Naturally Bane had known everything there was to know data wise on the man when Blake approached him. So he'd thought he knew who and what he was dealing with. Yet he'd never expected the man to ask him to bed, nor for the cop to go to his superiors once it became clear that one night would not be enough for either of them. Blake had made no effort to hide their relationship, taking the investigation by his internal police in stride and refusing to act as an informant when approached again and again to do so. Bane had cops in his pocket of course, so he knew how his little bird was treated because of him. Yet his detective never complained…and continued to see him. He spent far too much time thinking about the man, Bane told himself, and not for the first time. But it seemed pointless to try and stop when he was about to see Blake again. When he was with his little bird the detective was all he could think about. Analyzing every move he made, ever word that left those soft looking lips that tempted him with their every quiver. Shaking his head over those trivial thoughts Bane concentrated solely on studying the hallway he was walking down until he came to the correct door, knocking carefully since the wood was thin and would break easily enough under a normal man's strength. ) Having been waiting for the knock Blake wasn't long in coming to the door, the delay coming from the necessary check through the Judas hole and then the undoing of the locks that he'd installed to at least give him some warning if someone came hunting for a cop. Though any criminal with brains would probably avoid him like the plague for fear of what Bane would do to him or her if they did harm a hair on his head. He knew word had gotten out about their relationship and that he was considered the property of the man who pretty much blocked the entire doorway once he'd opened the door. A single blink was the only reaction Bane gave to the look on his man's face, knowing it well and not at all pleased not to be the cause. Or perhaps he had been, but had not been given the opportunity to be the direct cause. "You look well satisfied." Making a confused sound Blake moved out of the way to let the much bigger man in, pondering the question. "Oh. Yeah. I have strawberry shortcake. I'm good." Not even the thought that he was considered Bane's bitch in the criminal world could dim that sugar high. "Cake?" "Strawberry shortcake." Blake corrected with a smile that brought his dimples out and made his eyes crinkle. "It's a major weakness of mine. I was just getting into my third piece when you knocked. It's from the bakery three blocks from here, and better than regular sex." "Better than sex." Bane repeated, just the faintest hint of insult in his voice. Blake grinned. "The heat we generate is anything but regular." Moving in the detective placed his lips against the man's neck over the pulse point, sucking on the skin there in long, slow pulls. It wouldn't even bruise noticeable, the man's flesh was that tough, but it was the closest thing he'd been able to come up with to replace actual kissing. He'd never realized just how much foreplay and easing into a sexual relationship started with the meeting of lips until he'd started to sleep with a man whose lips he'd never even seen. And understanding the gesture for what it was Bane lifted a hand to stroke his large fingers through the man's hair before cupping the back of Blake's head to keep him where he was. His way of returning the gesture. When he pulled away Blake stroked Bane's cheek briefly before he turned to lock the door behind them, putting the multiple chains in place even though it really wasn't necessary given the other man's presence. He'd like to see some would be thief or murderer try to get past Bane to him. Well no, he wouldn't, but that was mostly because he didn't like the idea of his lover in danger. Or the idea of Bane killing the bad guy in front of him. The two of them heading for the small apartment's even smaller living room Blake moved over to the table where he'd left his latest slice of cake. "I'll just put this in the fridge and be right back." He never ate in front of Bane, it just seemed wrong and impolite to do so. "Finish it. I don't mind." Good manners warred with greed, and Bane had given him the okay so…greed won. Figuring that he could eat while Bane talked Blake asked the man about whatever book he was reading at the moment and then turned his attention back to finishing off his dessert, doing his best to listen and enjoy at the same time. He had to be doing it on purpose, Bane thought as he kept his body under tight control. There was no way that dessert could be that good. The carnal pleasure the man was projecting, it was meant to seduce him. To entice him. Blake always seemed to enjoy their sexual encounters more when he felt that he had made Bane lose control as well. Naturally he'd pointed out how dangerous that was, though the bruises on the man's flesh should have been warning enough. Thus far neither warning had sunk in. It was the spoon licking that had the large man grumbling through his mask that there was no need to put on such a show. Following the man's pointed gaze Blake didn't have to wonder what Bane was talking about for long. Laughing he shook his head, dimples flashing again as he reminded the man that he'd said it was just that good. And seeing that he wasn't being believed Blake stuck the spoon in what was left of his treat and held out the plate. "Here. I'll go somewhere else and you can try it. Just call me when I can come back in." "I have no need to pollute my body with some sugary concoction that does not benefit the body in any way." "But it does have benefits." Blake argued. And since the man thought he was doing this just to seduce anyway…why not? Shifting over Blake carefully straddled one of Bane's legs, sitting on it comfortably while facing the man as he scooped up a little on his spoon and waved it teasingly in front of his lover's masked face. "It makes you feel good, just like sex." Pretend pause. "But if you don't want it...maybe you'd feed it to me instead?" Being a master strategist Bane knew this was a trap. An idiot could see that. But his bird was watching him with such a playful, happy gleam in his eyes that Bane found himself taking the spoon from the detective, wanting to please him. And annoyed by that urge Bane decided to annoy the man in turn by deliberately moving the spoon away from Blake when the man leaned in to take it into his mouth. Unfortunately it didn't work that way, the younger man laughing instead as he braced his free hand on Bane's shoulder for balance as he tried to move fast enough to get his treat. Bane was faster though, his reflexes far superior and his timing impeccable. But Blake kept trying, both because he refused to admit defeat-and because the leg he straddled felt so good as he rubbed against it with every movement of his body as he lunged towards the bait again and again. Wanting both his hands free to touch Bane decided to let Blake get his treat, regretting the decision quickly as the detective punished him for making it easy by giving the spoon a blow job, sucking and licking at it in a way that had a great deal of blood leaving Bane's head and heading south to an area of his anatomy that would very much have liked to change places with that piece of silverware. Pulling back when he was sure his point had been made Blake studied the man's eyes with pleasure, seeing just enough in them to know he had definitely hit more than a few of the man's hot spots. If he hadn't there would have been nothing to see in the man's eyes but steel walls. Thinking that he'd give the other man another 'kiss' on the neck to soothe him a little Blake's eyes caught on something that had transferred to his lover's skin during their little game without either of them noticing. Hmmm, how convenient. Bane tensed up at the shift in Blake's attention, wanting to know what had caught his interest. "You got some of the cream on you." Leaning in Blake slid his tongue across the man's neck, very deliberately only lapping up a minute trace of the cream. Again and again he did that, drawing it out as long as possible as he tasted Bane's skin with just the faintest trace of the dessert he'd been snacking on. Then he nuzzled his face against his lover's neck, his nose picking up the faint smell of the medicinal gas coming from the mask. But that was just one more aspect that made up his lover's unique scent and he wanted Bane more than any sweet smelling treat. Taking the basically empty plate from his bird with one hand Bane wrapped the other around Blake's waist as he leaned over to lightly toss the dish onto the nearby coffee table with the spoon before standing up, effortlessly supporting the smaller man's weight in his hands. Even with his long legs Blake couldn't properly wrap them around Bane's waist as they headed for the bedroom, but he knew that Bane had him and so he turned his attention to the man's throat again, determined to try and leave a mark that would still be there come morning. It was a little annoying after all, that every morning he bore the marks of Bane's claiming while no one would know, to look at his lover, that he belonged to someone. And okay, he knew Bane had someone special in his life who he basically worshipped and he wanted that person to know that the man was his too. That the man belonged to him in a way Bane would never belong to her. "You will be getting very little sleep tonight." Shuddering deliciously at the threat Blake lifted his head just long enough to point out that that was sort of the point of Valentine's Day. Bane almost stumbled, the hitch in his stride barely noticeable as years of training kept him on his feet as his mind tried to wrap itself around what Blake had just stated. Not being completely oblivious to the commercial holidays practiced by the materialistic masses he'd known the significance of the day, Talia had made sure of it, but it hadn't occurred to him that their scheduled rendezvous had been meant to mark the day that honored, in theory, lovers. Naturally he'd never celebrated it. If someone gave you a heart in The Pit it had recently come out of someone's chest cavity. "Parjarito…" Lifting his head to meet Bane's gaze Blake let the whole calling him 'little bird' in Spanish go for the moment and answered the question he could read in the man's eyes. "You're taking me to the bed you bought me and intend to fuck my brains out till morning, right?" The bed was the only thing he'd allowed the man to buy him, and that was only because the man was directly responsible for the destruction of his last one. "That was my plan, yes." "Stick with the plan."

Taylor’s arm is tightly clutched around my waist, her body flush against my back. It doesn’t matter. The wind roars around my helmet, the road blurring below my bike as the engine overheats between my legs. It doesn’t matter. The Rig is getting closer. That matters. I swerve around a car moving far too slow for my tastes, the dirty white sedan frantically honking at me when I suddenly pull right in front of it to avoid the red truck coming at me in the other lane. It doesn’t matter. I… I strain, every single detail around me coming into stark relief, fed to Power as soon as I can be aware of them, or sooner in most cases. I adjust my course minutely to avoid yet another of Brockton Bay’s potholes before I pull into a sharp angle that takes me along a perpendicular street and toward the coast, the Boardwalk, and I allow Power to calculate the likelihood of encountering one too many traffic stops along the way if I stick to conventional routes. I don’t like the result, so I speed up, jump the curb, rush past low buildings filled with cape souvenirs, and finally skid over tightly packed wooden beams mercifully deserted of most pedestrians, as even Brocktonites have the sense to void easily accessible public places when an Endbringer siren sounds. I used to think it was stupid. Paralyzing the whole world at once every time there’s so much as a threat of one of them showing up? Why not wait? Why not have a hint of their actual target before mobilizing an entire planet? The answer? Because we need to. Because most capes refuse being easily tracked, so we need the rallying cry to reach all of them. Because if the Simurgh moves, no one knows where or when it will land, and every second counts in vacating civilians or at least getting them to the (oh so very inadequate) shelters. Because Leviathan cruises the oceans at a speed that allows him to strike anywhere in the world in minutes. Because Behemoth… The Hero Killer. My fists tighten, and the engine roars. There’s a staccato, the suspension barely keeping up with the ups and downs of the wood below us, but Taylor doesn’t complain. She just tightens her arm once again, holding me closer until we finally reach the expanse of concrete at the end of the Boardwalk. Not far behind us, a gleaming, crystal hotel where we spent our last peaceful date fades into the distance. And the Rig grows closer. *** I pull up in front of the ramp leading to the superhero base of Brockton Bay’s Protectorate. The rallying point is at the PRT building, but I’m not here to volunteer. I’m here to talk some sense into someone stubborn enough to… To follow me to the other side of the country. Damn it. I kick my bike into its parking position, and Taylor briefly squeezes me before letting go, both of us dismounting as fast as we can. Then I tear my helmet off before I pull my phone out of my jacket’s pocket as I march toward the ramp leading me to Colin. I press a few buttons, and the phone only rings once before she picks up. “Sarah! Sarah, I’ve been calling you—” Mom says. “Are you safe?” I cut her off. “Yes! Yes, we’re headed to a shelter—” “Don’t. Get back to the house. Tell Danny it’s Behemoth and remind him of the looting statistics during attacks. He’ll know what that means.” “What does it mean?!” I glare at the PRT trooper standing in the middle of the ramp until he gets the hint and steps away, but not before looking behind me at Taylor. I don’t know what she’s gesticulating to him, but I can only guess being whitelisted by Tagg is helping at this very moment. That, and that we currently are Skitter and Tattletale, so he may have guessed this has something to do with the ongoing crisis. Good. “There’s nothing here that Behemoth wants. It doesn’t fit his style, and there hasn’t been any seismic activity. While Endbringers can and will deviate from known patterns, the closest shelter to Danny’s home is near enough that you will be able to safely get there if Brockton Bay is confirmed as an attack site. Meanwhile, it’s statistically more dangerous for you two to be on the streets.” “And what about you?” she asks, voice trembling. I, without even slowing down, close my eyes. “I am a superhero, Mom. The good guys always win,” I tell her, lying to her worse than at any time in my life. Then I open my eyes, and the glass gates leading to the reception for visitors and tourists (such a ludicrous thing) slide open before me. “You don’t have to be! You can stay here and—” I hang up on her. Then I call Brian. “Almost there,” he grunts in a way that suggests somebody is holding the phone close to his ear. Note to self: buy hands-free devices. For all of us. “Good. See you soon,” I tell him, not clarifying what that means. Because I haven’t told him what I just told my mother. Because he’s heading to the Undersiders’ base to collect a little someone who may or not make an actual difference in the fight to come. The fight he still thinks may happen in his little sister’s hometown. Lying by omission. It’s so easy it feels like cheating. “Lisa?” he asks, something worried and anxious in his tone. I glare at the receptionist standing behind the crystal shelf keeping her away from slack-jawed tourists, and stride right to an elevator with a number pad that I quickly press a combination on. One I memorized when I came here to nail down the nature of my deal with Tagg. Thankfully. I’m not in the mood to play a guessing game. Equally thankfully, the security of this place is still crap, and the password works despite having been used in front of a Thinker seven. Sometimes, I wonder how Coil wasn’t already running this town before I arrived. “It’s…” I hesitate, something in me shifting after stopping. After having been made to wait rather than move. “It’s nothing. Hey, Brian?” I say. “Yes?” “Aisha will be all right. I promise.” “You can’t—” “I can. And tell Rachel to stay at the base. Behemoth’s aura would fry her dogs before they could do anything worthwhile, and I don’t want that on my conscience.” The phone crackles with sudden motion. “I can fight,” Rachel says without any inflection. “You can,” I tell her. “But I don’t want you to.” There’s a pause that only makes me focus on the barely perceptible rumble of an elevator moving too slowly for my tastes. “Thank you,” a small, frightened voice that nonetheless stands firm finally says. And Rachel hangs up. My phone rings as soon as that happens, Mom’s name flashing on the screen. I… I want to pick up. I want to tell her… A lot of things. Reassuring things, hurtful things, meaningful things, and ceaseless prattle. I want… I want to tell her everything still unsaid. Without turning around, I hand the phone to Taylor. “Tell her you need to speak to your father. Please,” I say, my throat clenching before and after the last word. The doors to the elevator open, and Taylor speaks to my mother behind me. Lisa Wilbourn— Just… Just drown me with facts and inferences, all right? Make it so I can’t think my own thoughts until I need to. Please. Please, Power— Three main modes of attack. Attacks wasteful. No regard for efficiency. Overwhelming force. Display of power dramatic. Demoralization of opposition intended. Differs from other Endbringers in approach. No subtlety. No feinting. Relentless advance. Likelihood of— Thank you. Thank you, Little Brother. … So-called ‘kill aura’ consisting of lethal doses of radiation, yet not spreading in the radius expected by field equations— *** “You are not coming,” Colin says as soon as the door to his workshop slides open and our eyes meet. “You are not the boss of me,” I try to tell him with as much levity as I don’t feel. Colin, standing amid whirring metal limbs, his armor still being secured over his black undersuit— Electromyography— Of course. “No. I am not,” he says. And he keeps just standing there, arms spread, feet beyond the width of his shoulders as pieces of blue ceramics with a metal sheen are bolted on his frame, servos coming to life as they assemble and connect to one another. “That’s inefficient,” I say. “What?” he asks with actual affront. “That. The myosensors. I’m betting they require pretty precise conditions to work to your specifications—humidity? Right. Humidity. Gel pads. You devote a lot of space, relative to what you’re capable of, obviously, to making your suit adhere to the nerve endings you have calibrated for it and—” “What are you doing, Lisa?” he asks. “I’m showing you I can be of use! If I’m there, I’ll see things—” “You promised—” “And I’m a villain! A Thinker—a social Thinker! Of course I’d lie to you and—” And Taylor hugs me from behind. “No,” she whispers. Right against my ear. Unfairly. “Tay, I am—” “You aren’t going. What you could do there that you can’t do remotely doesn’t even rate the personal risk—” “I could—I could hide inside Grue’s cloud! Dragon just proved it’s a shield against any kind of radiation, anything a dynakinetic can—” “Except for kinetic energy. Like a thrown rock,” Colin cuts me off. I glare at him. “Why aren’t you surprised about what I just said? Dragon was almost apoplectic with the implications—of course.” A monitor swivels on an arm located behind and above Colin’s left shoulder, and a sheepish Artificial Intelligence waves at me. “Hi, Lisa—” “Of course. Of course nobody stopped me coming in. Of course he isn’t surprised and is ready for my arguments. Of course—” “You are in no state to go to an Endbringer battle,” Colin speaks right over me. “—of course you’d all gang up on me to stop me from doing what I need to do to keep you, band of lemmings, alive!” “I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment…” Hannah mutters from right behind me before she lays a hand on the shoulder Taylor isn’t wrapped around and goes right back to her place as my favorite adoptive mother figure. … My life is complicated. “He’ll go. We will go. It’s what we do, Lisa; you already know that. You aren’t even trying to stop us, just trying to be there, to feel like you have a choice in what happens. And none of us do,” Hannah says, cruelly kind with every truth I already know. I close my eyes. Feel Taylor around me. And take a deep breath. I… I need clarity, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to know the odds, how likely it is at least one of them won’t come back. How… How powerless I am. Lisa Wilbourn— All right. Poor choice of words. So I open my eyes. I look around me. “This will be my comms center,” I tell them in no uncertain terms. Dragon smiles, Colin rolls his eyes, and both Taylor and Hannah squeeze me harder, though through different means. *** I am sitting in Colin’s chair, the damn ergonomics so fricking comfortable it’s utterly unfair to my willfully tensed shoulders. “We still don’t know where he will emerge,” I confirm with Dragon after taking a look at the extracts from shifting seismic readings all over the globe. “He likes to do that. Swimming just below the Earth’s mantle for a while, going in and out of convective currents to threaten different gathering points. He’s… Different from the others. Leviathan and Simurgh will attack hard and fast, taking everyone by surprise in their search of their objective, but Behemoth… he wants an audience,” Dragon tells me from the monitor over my right shoulder as Colin keeps making last-minute adjustments to his armor. “Are you sure he’s that sentient?” I ask, trying to come up with a pattern as Power and I browse a list of the last sites ravaged by the monster. “It doesn’t matter. If he isn’t, he’s being made to act as if he was,” she says without even hinting at what pain those very words could cause her if applied to the artificial being who became a woman. I hum. Then I take out my phone, ignore the hundred missed calls from my mother, and call Brian. “Lisa? Do we already—” “Brockton Bay is safe,” I tell him. “Will you ever let me finish a goddamn sentence—wait, what? Are you sure?” “I am… almost certain. He still hasn’t set on a target, but there’s nothing here to lure him in, given his past history,” I tell him. “Then—” “Then,” I cut him off with a hint of a smile, because one should relish life’s small pleasures, “you can relax knowing that Aisha is as safe as I told you she would be. You and Alec, though…” “What are you even suggesting?” I close my eyes, lists of cities swimming behind my eyelids while Power sifts through them and tries to do what no other Thinker has ever managed. I don’t open them when I answer Brian. “I am saying that we just learned your power is a perfect counter to many of Behemoth’s known abilities, but not all of them. I am saying you could be Alec’s bodyguard during the fight, or you could protect the healers and injured. I am saying that you, Brian Laborn, could be a hero today… And I don’t want you to.” “What?” he asks, tense because of something other than me rudely interrupting him. Must try harder. Lisa Wilborn’s sense of priorities— Oh, come on, you like it as much as I do. “I… Okay, don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t want you to go soft on me just because of this, but… I love you guys, all right? I… I have taken a peek at what each and every one of you actually is, what lies under the surface, and the trauma, and the powers bullshit, and I… Don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose someone I love ever again. But you’re also not mine. I can’t control you. I can’t keep you safe despite your will. So, if you go? You’ll get your pay plus a hazard bonus, and I’ll be proud of you. Proud enough to give you detailed plans for counter-pranking Aisha the next time she gets a bee in her bonnet, literal or otherwise, and I know the expression doesn’t even fit that well, but I’m an emotional wreck, and I want you to live, and not have to tell your little sister that her brother was a hero she should honor every day of her life, and—” “Double hazard pay,” he says. “What?” “I want double hazard pay. So does Alec,” he says. “I wasn’t done telling you why this is a terrible idea.” “Yet I’m done listening to you lose your mind. I… We also love you, Lisa. And thank you for giving me this chance,” he says. And the man with the biggest chip on his shoulder I’ve ever met, a man who I just told is a perfect counter to some of the most feared attacks on Earth Bet, hangs up on me. … I may not have thought this through. “You’re far too mushy,” Taylor says from my left, her hand squeezing mine once more. “I just…” “I know,” she says. And I open my eyes. The almost soothing dark red from my eyelids is yet again replaced by Colin’s harsh, stark lighting reflecting off the brushed metal covering his walls. He’s on the workstation beside me, working on something that looks far too bulky to carry by himself, so I’m guessing it is a last-minute addition to his bike, and— … I forgot to chain up my baby. Lisa Wilborn’s sense of priorities— And you conveniently forgot to point it out. … Anthropomorphizing of parahuman abilities interfaces— You motherfuck— “It will be on Asia,” Dragon points out, her voice stark enough to break me out of my inner dialogue. I… blink, trying to regain my focus, and stare at the readings she just pulled up in the display in front of me. Small tremors reported on Myanmar. South Korea. Nepal. Mongolia… And none from China. … They can’t be this stupid. It’s absolutely impossible for even a dictatorial regime to hide seismic tremors during a Behemoth alert. Nobody is that suicidal. There’s absolutely no way the CUI would willfully ignore useful, powerful assets invaluable to their survival— … Lisa Wilborn’s— I know. Shut up. I close my eyes tightly for a couple of seconds before I reach for my phone. Then, buried among the notifications of missed calls from Mom, I find… precisely what I expected to find. And I return one of the many, many calls I kept ignoring. “Hey, Dinah…” I tell her with my most apologetic, sheepish tone. “Hey,” she replies with an icy cold tone. Then we let an awkward, tense silence pass. “Would you believe I have been ignoring another person, and I just forgot to check on who else was calling me?” I tell her as both Dragon and Taylor look at me like I need some kind of intervention. Hopefully, they have different methodologies in mind. “Yes. Because I was forced to waste a question on that after you kept not picking up,” the adorably grumpy world-class precog tells me. “Right. Right, that fits. So I guess you already know Brockton Bay is safe—” “Yes.” “Right.” … I don’t know how to handle this! Dinah Alcott’s need for acknowledgment— … This is now going to feel manipulative, no matter how sincere I am, isn’t it? Lisa Wilborn’s sense of morality— I don’t even know if that’s a good or a bad thing at this point. “Hey, I… I am sorry. I promised you I would treat you like an equal, and right as a crisis hit, I forget all about that and just try to tackle it on my own, and… And that’s not how I want us to be. I want us to be badass Thinkers together. So… let’s show an Endbringer what he’s gotten itself into by bringing a Blaster power to a Thinker fight?” I hopefully ask. “… You’re quoting something I haven’t read, aren’t you?” she says. “A movie, actually. And I’m paraphrasing it, not quoting it.” There’s a strained silence as the partner I unwillingly offended likely pinches the bridge of her nose, copying something she’s sometimes seen her uncle do and finally understanding the true reason behind the gesture. “Let’s kick monster butt,” she finally says. And, for the first time since this whole thing started, I feel my smirk stretch my lips.     ================= This was one of those chapters that had my temples burning with throbbing heat as my brain protested the abuse it had just been put through. I think it was worth it. Even if it obviously lacks at least a couple of shards humming Careless Whisper to one another. Anyway, things are getting somewhat more serious than usual in this fic, and they are likely to remain so for at least the next few chapters. On an entirely unrelated note, I think I need either a glass of wine, a mug of chamomile tea, or a professional masseuse. Whichever is cheaper. As usual, I’d like to give a particularly enthusiastic “thank you” to my credited supporters for going above and beyond: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon!

Regular Day at the Office "Are you serious? Why didn't he tell me this?" Naruto asked bewildered; his hand lingering above a yellow rose. Itachi huffed amused. "I guess because he doesn't like making a big deal out of it. He's rather modest." The blond man huffed, retrieving another yellow rose from the basket. "Modest he might be, but that doesn't mean something like this shouldn't be celebrated! I mean, how many people can say they accomplished this much at his age already?" The other man chuckled lowly. "I wish you good luck in trying to convince him to celebrate. My little brother has never been really fond of parties." "It doesn't have to be a party." Blue eyes rolled. "Just a celebratory dinner; he can't have any problems with that, surely?" "Like I said, good luck," Itachi told him amused. Someone else started talking in the background and after a short moment, Itachi said apologetically, "I need to look at some documents. Let me know if you actually managed to convince my otouto to have some fun." Amusement coloured his voice audibly. "Oh, you of little faith," Naruto snickered. "Have fun with those documents!" After hanging up, he checked the clock, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in thought. Ten past four … Well, that should give him enough time to stop by the store and buy the ingredients for dinner tonight. Itachi might be sceptic that he would succeed, but he didn't know yet just how stubborn Naruto could be once he had an idea in mind. There was no way he was just going to ignore his milestone! First, he added the last two roses to the bouquet and placed the flowers carefully in a bucket with water. That done, he picked up his phone again, hoping he wouldn't accidentally disturb the other one. Did he have a meeting now? He couldn't remember. Ah well, if he didn't want to be disturbed, he wouldn't pick up the phone in the first place, so he'd know soon enough. Humming, he listened to the 'beep, beep' tone; leaning his arse against the edge of the table while he waited for the other man to pick up. "Naruto, this is a surprise," a deep, smooth voice greeted him. "I didn't think I would hear from you for another three hours at least." "Yeah, well, I've got some time between preparations and there aren't any customers in the shop," Naruto replied; a smile unwillingly spreading across his face at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. No matter how many times he would hear it, Sasuke's voice never failed to send shivers down his spine and warmth curling up in his belly. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, reminding himself sternly that this definitely wasn't the place to let his mind wander. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" "No, not at all," Sasuke reassured him. "Any reason in particular you're calling or are you just missing my voice?" he asked teasingly. "Bastard, don't be so smug," Naruto grinned fondly. "I should scold you actually: why did I have to hear from your brother of all people that we've got something to celebrate tonight?" "Oh?" Sasuke said blankly. "We do? What did nii-san tell you?" "Does the fact that you've been leading your own company for five years already ring a bell maybe?" Naruto asked exasperatedly. "Oh that." Sasuke sounded entirely unruffled by that. "He's making a deal out of nothing." "Out of nothing?" the blond man repeated incredulously. "Sasuke, you're not even thirty and you're already leading a company! That is huge!" "If you say so," Sasuke replied and his tone made it clear that he was smirking. "Yes, I say so!" Naruto snarked. "So we're going to celebrate that tonight! Any requests for dinner?" "You," Sasuke answered promptly and yeah, he was definitely smirking now, the bastard. "That's not dinner, that's dessert!" Naruto fired back cheekily; his grin widening when the dark haired man chuckled pleasantly surprised. "So with dessert settled, what do you want for dinner? I can make everything you want, no problem. The stores are still open so if need be, I can make a quick stop at one of them before going home." "I don't need something elaborate or special, but if you insist, I like omusubi with okaka. Or you can make something with tomatoes and Skipjack Tuna," Sasuke answered calmly. Naruto wrinkled his nose. "Only you can have something incredibly healthy as your favourite food," he said in disbelief. "Hey, you're the one who asked me what - " "Please, Uchiha-sama! I swear I won't do it again!" Startled by the unexpected loud pleading, Naruto questioned, "Who was that? What the hell did they do that they're pleading like that?" "That was an employee who made a serious mistake in a document for an important client," Sasuke answered; a hint of irritation sneaking into his voice. Naruto winced, feeling sorry for the poor soul in Sasuke's office. He and Sasuke might have only known each other for barely a year, but he'd learnt early on that Sasuke strived for perfection in everything he did. A mistake in a document meant for an important client? Yeah, there was no way he was going to let that fly. "Oh man, he's in deep shit now," Naruto sighed, shaking his head. "You can bet he's going to get quite the earful of me," Sasuke muttered darkly. "Well, don't make him cry too much, all right?" Naruto said, turning his head when he heard the doorbell ring, signalling he had a customer. "Look, I've got to go now, but tonight we're definitely going to celebrate. Don't work too late, okay?" "I won't," Sasuke promised. "I'll see you tonight." "Yeah, I'll see you in a couple of hours," Naruto grinned and reluctantly hung up. He blushed when he walked past Ino, who was looking at him with knowing eyes, all while artistically putting together a small basket of purple lilacs and forget-me-nots. "Celebrating tonight, hm?" she said teasingly, waggling her eyebrows. "Oh shut up," he laughed, nudging her shoulder with his before he went out to the front to greet their customer. He and Sasuke were definitely going to celebrate tonight, all right. For now, though, he had a customer to attend to. Placing his phone on his desk, he slowly turned around, looking at the piece of shit who had nearly destroyed everything he'd built so far with his lover. The cockroach in question was trembling heavily, forced onto his knees by Jugo, who had one large hand clamped across the man's mouth. It was only thanks to Jugo's quick interference that nothing worse had been revealed. "Apologies, Sasuke-sama," Karin grimaced, glaring at the man in the middle of the office. "If I had known he'd be that stupid, I would have gagged him." He waved off her apology, knowing it was sincere, but it was unnecessary. It wasn't her fault that this son of a bitch had decided to make everything even worse for him. Stopping in front of the terrified man, he stared down at him coldly. "You nearly got me into some trouble there, Mizuki. I can't say I appreciate that – nor do I appreciate what you intended to do." Mizuki started blubbering something, fat tears dripping down his face, and Sasuke waited for a moment before signalling for Jugo to remove his hand. "I'm sorry, Uchiha-sama! I swear, I never meant to go through with! You have to believe me!" he begged; his thin, white hair plastered against the right side of his face where a cut was still bleeding sluggishly. "They were making me do this! I was planning on telling you all what they wanted me to do and - " "Suigetsu, refresh my memory if you will: what was Mizuki planning to do?" Sasuke asked calmly. That was a front, however, as he was inwardly seething with fury, barely able to hold himself back. His third trusted bodyguard straightened up from his slouched position against the wall and stepped forwards, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. A vicious glint lit up his purple eyes as he recounted, "Per Itachi-sama's information, Mizuki was planning on abducting Naruto-sama and delivering him to the Sound clan where Naruto-sama would either be killed or be forced to work as a whore." "He's lying!" Mizuki said shrilly, trying to wrestle free from Jugo's grip. "That guy is lying! I never said I - " He grunted in pain when Jugo kicked his back. He could try to struggle for as long as he wanted; Jugo was one of his strongest men – if he didn't want to release someone, they would never get free. "My brother is lying, you say?" Sasuke murmured silkily and Mizuki's eyes widened, fear making him quiver. Black eyes glided back towards Suigetsu. "Anything else to add?" "Sure do, boss," Suigetsu smirked, but his gaze was as cold as ice when he continued, "When looking at his e-mail history, we discovered that he'd been negotiating with Kimimaro, the leader of the Sound clan, for 'rights' to get to try out Naruto-sama first – as he so eloquently put it." "Sicko didn't hold back either in describing his fucked up fantasy," Karin muttered disgusted, flipping her red hair back over her shoulder. "I feel like I need brain bleach to be able to forget that filth." She shuddered, looking like she'd swallowed something foul. "They're lying, they're lying, they're lying," Mizuki kept repeating over and over again, shaking his head in desperation. Picking up a bundle of papers, Sasuke read the first page, curling up his lip at the content of it. 'I can assure you the plan will be easy to accomplish. I'll wait until he locks up the shop, follow him into the alley he takes to get to his scooter and there I'll sedate him. I'll take him to …' 'Uchiha doesn't suspect anything. He'll be too busy with the meeting with the Sannin to pay attention to anything else and that's when I will strike.' 'I would like one favour, Kimimaro-sama. I'd like to have at least three hours with the whore before delivering him to you. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time and …' On and on it went; the pages detailing the elaborate plan to abduct Naruto and hand him over to one of Sasuke's biggest rivals. Countless mails detailing the depravities Mizuki had been longing to inflect on the man Sasuke called his lover before disposing him into the arms of the Sound clan. One large, elaborate plan and several condensed ones in case the first one failed. Line after line, Mizuki's betrayal was laid out in front of him, showing clearly how close Naruto had come to being in danger. He had his brother and Mizuki's own stupidity to thank for the fact that Mizuki's plan had been foiled just on time. "So these e-mails don't come from your account?" Sasuke asked nonchalantly, dropping the pages one by one on the floor in front of the bastard. "That wasn't you writing to Kimimaro how you wanted to fuck Naruto raw and have him screaming and begging before handing him over? These messages talking about how to abduct Naruto – they aren't signed by you?" "Sick, fucked up and dumb," Karin muttered, shaking his head. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts and breathed out loudly. "Man, how did he ever get through the selection process?" "Granted, he was working in one of the lowest levels," Suigetsu pointed out, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. "Doesn't take a genius to be able to work there." "We'll be conducting a clean-up after this," Sasuke murmured and all three of them inclined their heads. "What do you want to do with this one here, boss?" Jugo asked calmly. He could have been simply asking whether Sasuke wanted a cup of coffee with how calm he was – save for the gun pressed firmly against the back of Mizuki's head when the man wriggled one time too much. At the feeling of the cold metal pressed against his head, Mizuki froze and whimpered, looking like he would start pissing himself any second now. "I never did like it when people tried to take something of mine," Sasuke mused, dipping his hand into the inside of his jacket to retrieve his gun. "I like it even less when people think they can drag my brother's name through the mud." "Looks like you hit the jackpot, jackass," Suigetsu grinned, sauntering over to look at Mizuki. "Did you really think you could get away with this?" Ignoring Suigetsu, Mizuki looked up, quivering like a leaf in the wind, and stuttered, "Pl-please, U-Uchiha-s-sama, I – I sw-swear I – I won't d-do it again! I-I-I'll k-k-keep aw-away from Naru-" "Don't you dare say his name!" Sasuke snarled viciously, whipping his gun out of his pocket and aiming it straight at Mizuki's forehead. The white haired man froze, his mouth open but no sound coming out anymore. He'd grown so pale he looked like he was going to faint any second now. "Karin," Sasuke said deadly calm. "Prepare the car. We're going for a ride." "My pleasure," she grinned; her eyes gleaming like a cat who got the canary. He was cutting off Mizuki's remaining ear – excruciatingly slow so he would feel as much pain as possible – when Karin stepped forwards, entering his line of vision. "Sasuke-sama, sorry for interrupting, but if you want to be home on time, you should leave now," she said quietly, undisturbed by the ten discarded fingers dropped just two feet away from her. "That will give you enough time to shower and change your clothes so Naruto-sama won't notice anything." Sasuke paused, staring down at the crying, bloody mess in front of him. They were in an empty warehouse at the edge of the city; the remoteness of it ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed. Mizuki was currently missing his fingers, the stumps sluggishly bleeding, colouring the concrete floor a dark brown; four precisely aimed bullets had shattered his kneecaps, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to flee even if he would have had the chance. His shirt had been cut off and his bare chest and back were a macabre artwork of deep, bleeding gashes; a result of Jugo's handywork with the whip. His nose had been broken in two different places and he was missing at least six teeth. His right ear laid discarded next to the pile of fingers; his left almost on the verge of being sliced off. His face was a disgusting mess of tears, snot and blood, and his pleading and screaming had died down to weak whimpers and pitiful sobbing; there was nothing left of the arrogant man who'd stepped foot in Sasuke's office three hours ago. "P-p-pl-please," he cried. His wrists were a mess of raw chafed skin after having struggled uselessly against the ropes tying him down to the table. Sasuke considered him before checking his watch and noticing that it was indeed time for him to leave if he wanted to go home on time. Quick as a snake, he hacked Mizuki's left ear off, smiling grimly at the choked scream leaving the son of a bitch. "Look at that," he smiled cruelly, rising up. He held out his hand, accepting his gun from Suigetsu. "Looks like you're saved by the one person you wanted to hurt. I wonder if this is called irony?" One single gunshot echoed through the large warehouse, cutting off the crying abruptly. "Jugo, Suigetsu, clean up this mess," he ordered calmly, lowering his gun and watching the blood ooze slowly out of the single hole right in the middle of Mizuki's forehead. "Let the rest of them know what will happen if they dare to cross me again." "Ay, ay, boss," Suigetsu smirked, saluting him. Jugo nodded respectfully, bowing when Sasuke marched past him. "I've already informed Deidara-sama that we will be stopping at his place for you to clean up," Karin informed him as they made their way to the car. "His place is the closest and you've got clothes there, left from the time Danzo attacked you in your house and you had to stay with Deidara-sama whilst the place was being cleaned." "Thanks, Karin," he murmured, studying the dried smears of blood on his hands with cool detachment. "Put together a team of fifteen men by tomorrow afternoon. We'll be paying the Sound Clan a visit to remind them who exactly they were trying to cross." "Certainly, sir," she agreed and bowed, straightening up to open the door of the car for him. When she was settled behind the wheel, he spoke up again, "Send a bottle of Yamazaki whisky to my brother; he's earnt it." She flashed him a smile through the rear view mirror. "Very well, Sasuke-sama." After all, he reclined against the comfortable cushion, annoying as his older brother could be at times, he deserved a gift for helping him out. "You're on time," Naruto smiled pleased, removing his apron when Sasuke walked into the kitchen. The dark haired man smirked, crossing the distance between them in a couple of large strides. Gripping slender hips, he bent down and caught Naruto's mouth in a soft kiss. "Were you expecting me to be late?" Naruto shrugged, cupping the back of Sasuke's neck with his hands. "I know how much you love to work and you've lost track of time before," he reminded him cheekily. "I love spending time with you more," Sasuke instantly shot back and had the pleasure of seeing a deep red flush filling Naruto's cheeks rapidly. The sight of it had his cock stirring and he pressed his body firmly against Naruto's, pushing the blond against the counter. Running his nose across the smooth expanse of skin in Naruto's neck, he breathed out, "What do you say of having dessert first?" "Well, I've always been more of a dessert kind of guy," Naruto said mischievously; his blue eyes sparkling brightly. His mouth dropped open, his blush deepening, when a hand cupped his dick; it hardened quickly underneath Sasuke's touch and the dark haired man smirked. "That's what I like to hear." He stepped back and Naruto's confused look was quickly wiped away when Sasuke swiftly picked him up and swung him across his shoulder so that he ended up hanging upside down. "Seriously, Sasuke?" Naruto laughed, smacking the man's arse for good measure. "I can walk!" "This is quicker," Sasuke smirked and not having the patience to make it up all the way upstairs, he made a beeline for the living room instead, where he dropped his lover down on the couch. Loosening his tie, he watched how blue eyes darkened and a tongue shot out to lick pale red lips. "Now," Sasuke murmured, kneeling down on the couch between Naruto's legs and leaning over him. "What was that about a celebration?" If Mizuki's screams and crying had been like listening to a nice song, Naruto's throaty moans and breathy gasps and his pleas for more, harder, please, Sasuke! were like music to his ears. Burning black eyes took in the way Naruto had his head thrown back across the arm of the couch, baring his neck; a flush spreading from his cheeks down to his chest. Unable to resist the invitation, Sasuke swiftly leant down, pressing himself deeper into his lover at the same time he kissed his neck, worrying the skin right above his collarbone between his lips, nibbling at it softly. That earnt him a deep groan and Naruto's inner muscles clamped down around his cock; fingers gripping black strands and keeping his face pressed into the blond man's neck. "M-more," Naruto whimpered; his other hand scrambling across Sasuke's back, his nails occasionally catching pale skin, leaving faint red lines behind. "If you've got time to order me around, I'm not doing a good job then," Sasuke grunted and his next forceful thrust had Naruto nearly mewling, eyes squeezed shut and his body shuddering underneath Sasuke's. "Look at me, Naruto," Sasuke demanded, needing to see those glorious blue eyes looking at him. Naruto obeyed almost instantly, eyes flicking open, revealing dilated pupils. They burnt with lust, passion and love; the sight of that drove Sasuke nearly insane and he caught Naruto's mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, swallowing his next moan when he angled his dick just so that he struck the blond's prostate dead on with his next thrust. Naruto clung to him, letting him use him as he saw fit, kissing him back with equal desperation; his arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, as if he never wanted to let him go. Sasuke wasn't planning on letting him go. It didn't matter if he would have to go to the deepest pits of hell itself – there was no way he was ever going to let this man go. This gorgeous, wild creature with a heart as pure as fresh fallen snow was all his and he was going to make sure everyone knew that. The second anyone tried to touch as much as one single blond hair – they would pay. He would murder every single last person, would set everything alight in flames if that meant keeping Naruto safe. If it meant keeping him with him always, he would go to every length necessary. Mizuki had tried to take him away and he'd failed. The Sound clan had tried to steal his lover from him – and they would pay dearly for that. Naruto was his: mind, body, soul, heart. Everything was his. He'd make sure everyone would know that by the time tomorrow would come to an end. "Sasuke!" Inner muscles clamped down around him, making him groan, and Naruto thrashed his head back and forth against the couch, shuddering and shivering as he spilt between their stomachs; his eyes rolling back in his head when Sasuke kept striking for that hidden spot deep within him, prolonging his pleasure. When Sasuke came, pleasure crashing into him like waves against a cliff, it was with Naruto's name on his lips and slender arms holding him close. "So how was work today?" Naruto asked when they dropped down onto the bed. They really should eat, but … Eugh, he didn't want to move now. Sasuke turned his head and smiled faintly, pulling him closer with one arm. Blue eyes closed when lips kissed his forehead tenderly. "Oh, just a regular boring day at the office." The End

The manor was insufferably warm. From the groups of rich nobles gracing around the hall and from the steaming heaps of rich food that was being brought out in silver platters.  What made it worse was the constricting silks Geralt was forced to wear and he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the dumb silks and get back into his trusty leathers. Although... Ciri was practically glowing as soon as she pulled on the dress and she nearly exploded when she entered into the hall so Geralt kept his complaints to himself.  "The man who owes you money," grunts Geralt in a low growl to Yen who was posied by a wall, goblet of wine in hand. "Who is he?" Geralt chances a glance to Ciri who was watching the nobles dance but was still close enough to Geralt so that Geralt wasn't itching with worry.  "Why so you can beat the money out of him," scoffs Yen as she pauses to sip from the goblet. "You needn't worry about him yet. I haven't seen him yet and I'll deal with him later when he's drunk. I wouldn't want to ruin your night." Yen pushed off from the wall so she's mere inches from Geralt.  He can smell the wine from her lips which she was licking but he simply rolls his eyes and grunts before turning his back on her. Much to her annoyance. "Isn't it just wonderful," giggles Ciri as she sways in time with the music. Geralt gives a small hmm of agreeance but really he watches the nobles seeing only peacocks flashing their feathers.  Woman have their grandest jewelry in an attempt to show it off. Men have shark-like grins as they talk of their riches, their land and themselves. Right now everyone is sober but Geralt wishes everyone would hurry up and get drunk. That's when the fun begins.  His eyes scan across the sea of glittering jewels and vibrant dresses before his eyes lock onto something brighter than jewels, something worth more than anything that hung off the women's necks... a pair of painfully familiar blue eyes.  And they were looking back at him. "Geralt, are you okay?" Geralt is only slightly aware of the slight tug on his arm and he had only just realized that he had been stood silent and motionless.  "Hmm, yes..." Geralt takes a glance down at the small girl who was stood worried next to him but he quickly pulls his gaze back up in search of the blue eyes but they were gone as soon as he looked away.  Geralt suddenly became very aware of the music around him. The man's voice was nice but not smooth like silk or sweet like honey. Like Jaskier's voice. There was already a bard strumming and singing so why was Jaskier here?  There was already a bard? Unless... Jaskier was a guest.  "See I knew you would enjoy yourself," smiles Yen as she joined Geralt and Ciri.  "I just wanted to thank you-" starts Ciri only for her to abruptly interrupted by Geralt. "Lord Augustus," he begins as he turns his hard stare onto Yen. "What is his full name?"  Yen stares hard back at him with her eyebrows knitted. "Why would that interest you?" she asked sounding exasperated.  "Tell me."  "Grumpy are we," sighs Yen as she swirls the wine in her goblet but Geralt's snarl makes her talk. "It is a long name to say the least, complicated too. Something along the lines of... Augustus Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove but I don't see-"  "Fuck!" exclaims Geralt with a snarl on his lips.  Not a bard. Not a guest but rather an heir.  "Language," snaps Ciri in a slightly joking tone but she can see something is troubling Geralt. She goes to ask him as she places a light hand on his shoulder only for her to interrupted again by Lord Augustus' raspy voice breaking over the crowd who had all paused to watch him grace into the center of the floor. Dressed head to toe in his finest attire, August swans with as much grace as his old body would allow him with his skeleton of a wife hanging from his arm. She too was dressed in her finest dress only it hung from her fragile body like it was two sizes too big on her.  "Esteemed guests," he begins as his hand that was covered in thick rings reached out for the crowd. He goes on to talk and talk, not that Geralt was listening but his attention falls onto the movement from behind Lord Augustus. Behind him, more well-dressed nobles swan behind him. Grinning at the guest apart from one... His head was turned down at the floor with his face devoid of all emotion. He held himself like he was fragile, cold and like he was in pain.  "My children and I wish you a good night!" With one last show of love, Augustus plasters on a smile and throws an arm to the nobles behind him.  His children...  "Who the hell is that," hisses Yen in a hushed voice behind Geralt. She nods towards the nobles and it was no surprise it was directed at the small looking son. "I knew August had children but he never mentioned him."    "I think there's a reason for that," huffs Geralt as he soon realizes who it was. "That's Jaskier." Geralt's heart shatters at the sight of his bard who was painfully silent. There was no smile on his face or glitter in his eyes. Usually, Jaskier loved public attention but now that the crowd was clapping for him, each clap seemed ot be painful for him. "You mean your rude mouthed bard," chuckles Yen and her joy only boils Geralt's anger. "Why would he be here?" "Julain Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove..." sighs Geralt with a hang of his head as he feels shame wash over him.  "Oh, shit..." Yen lets out a sigh of realization but there was a sense of sorrow. For Yen has heard passing rumors of Augustus' cold and unloving nature and for Jaskier's sake, she hopes it was only a passing rumor. "Well, it just so happens..." there was a glint of wickedness in her smile as they watch Augustus and his children melt into the crowd. "We need to make a quick visit to his dear brother Finneus."    "Get that look off your face," snides Finneus as they melt into the crowd towards the table of food. "This is a banquet! Filled with food, drink, fine woman and happiness." Finneus tries to appeal to Julain who was stumbling behind him with no look of joy on his pale face. "Father was right about you ruining it..." sighs Finneus with a side glance to his brother and malice in his voice.  "I'm sorry," Jaskier wasn't entirely sure why he was apologizing but he felt obligated too. "I'm just not... feeling great," Jaskier mumbles as he rubs the pain in his shoulder that seemed to grow as the night went on.  "You're not still worked up about that stupid instrument of yours?!" snarls Finn as he pauses midstep to turn around and hiss at his brother who flinched away at his brother's sudden turn. "No, I just-"  "It's for the best, Julain," sighs Finneus as he rakes through his dark hair. "You are a Lord, you should be smart enough to know what qualifies to be a Lord and right now, you do not qualify." Finn's words hiss through his grated teeth. "That means no idiotic lute, no mutants and don't even think about singing! We all know what's best for you, Julain and being here is what is best..."  Although his words were cruel and cold, he places a brotherly hand on his bad shoulder but quickly his grip gets tighter until it is no longer a 'brotherly' grip but more a threatening one that enforces his words.  Jaskier swallows down his cry of pain that bubbled up inside him when Finneus' hand clawed into his shoulder that was still raw with pain.  "Good..." said Finnues when he saw the pain in his younger brother's eyes and luckily let his hand fall from his brother's shoulder and Jaskier let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Just... don't be stupid. Be... Lord Julain. That's what father wants."  The words were heavy on Jaskier. Reminding him that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be 'Lord Julain.' He was and will always be Jaskier, a punching bag to his siblings, a disgrace to his father.  And a burden to Geralt. A liability.  Jaskier shakes his head as the thought of Geralt creeps back up on him again. So what if he was here? Jaskier's family wants him to be Lord Julain and Lord Julain has no affiliation with Geralt. "... of course," the worlds fall out of Jaskier's without him even realizing but neither did Finneus as he was concerned with something else. He was scowling over Jaskier's shoulder with his lips parted slightly as his mind whirled with thoughts. "Finneus?" asked Jaskier in a small voice. "Shit," sighs Finn with his top lip flaring and his teeth grinding. "I need to go." Finn tried to compose himself by smoothing down his hair and sucking in a hard breath but Jaskier could practically hear his brother's heart hammering with fear.  Jaskier dares to look over his shoulder and his eyes fall to the raven-haired sorceress dressed in fine silks who was talking rather animatedly with a small blonde hair girl and burly white hair Witcher.  Yennefer, Ciri and (of fucking course) Geralt.  Behind him, Jaskier hears the hurried footsteps of his brother who had fled behind him.  Now, Finnues was a man who always spent the money he didn't have and Jaskier, although he'd been away for a lifetime didn't have any doubt why he was running. He clearly owed money to someone.  But who? Geralt wasn't a man of business and if Finneus owed Geralt money, Finneus wouldn't be alive. Not that Finneus would ever give Geralt a contract but if he were and withheld Geralt's money, Geralt would've slain Finnues were he stood and looted his well-earned money from his corpse.  Yennefer, on the other hand, was a woman of business. She had a way with words, money and more importantly men. If Finneus was owed any money, it was Yennefer and if so, he was right to run. Many fear the strength of a Witcher but Jaskier fears the wrath of Yennefer.    "Plan of action?" asked Ciri as she looked up between the witcher and the mage.  "You can run after your bard but I'm getting my money," huffs Yennefer as she downs the rest of her wine.  "If you can find him that is," grunts Geralt and Yen's vibrant purple eyes scowl as she looks for Finn but the twitch of irritation in her face was a sign she'd lost him.  "That bastard probably saw us and took a runner, the coward," she curses as her hand curls around the goblet.  Geralt too was scanning the room for he was indeed going after his bard that is if Jaskier would even want to talk to him again. The night at the inn after the two saw each other, Jaskier did a runner which was fair, to say the least.  And now Jaskier seems to have done a runner again which wasn't surprising. How was Jaskier supposed to feel after seeing Geralt in his family home? "I'm sure if we find Jaskier, he can point us in the direction of Finn," pipes up Ciri and both Yen and Geralt turn to look down at her. Only Yen had a wide and proud smile on her face while Geralt has his mouth pressed in a firm line of regret.  Part of him wanted never to see Jaskier, not because he believed Jaskier was to blame for all of their misadventures but because Geralt was too guilt-ridden. How could Geralt face his 'closest-friend' who he blamed, ridiculed and shunned from his life? Geralt was never a man of words but he had to so much he wanted to say but would never know how to say it.  "Amazing idea! Maybe some of your brilliant intelligence will rub off on Geralt," before Geralt can protest, Yennefer sent off with Ciri bouncing along behind her so Geralt felt obligated to.  "I have to ask," said Ciri as she fell back from Yen's side to walk by Geralt. "Did you not know anything of Jaskier's past? His family?" Ciri cocks one of her fair eyebrows as she looks up Geralt who's face twists with... something. Shame, maybe? Ciri couldn't quite place it but it was a mix of sorrow, shame, and anger.  "It was never something we spoke of," shrugs Geralt but it was true, Geralt was ashamed of himself for never knowing or maybe Jaskier had told him but Geralt had just brushed it off like Geralt usually did.  "You never asked?"  "I thought it wasn't my place. I knew he was noble but I never asked more. I wonder why though, he must've had a good life with money and whatever he could've asked for." That made Geralt wonder. If Jaskier had all this money and riches at his fingertips then why was he a simple bard and more importantly, why did he tag along with Geralt and sleep in shit hole inns when he could've been sleeping in a manor!? "Human life is never that simple, Geralt," sighed Ciri with a shake of her head. "Jaskier isn't like other nobles. He's a simple man who is content being on the road with his lute and his Witcher. It makes you think, maybe there was a reason he left it all behind for you."  "Hmm," hummed Geralt. "You're surprisingly wise for someone so young."  "Someone needs to keep you in check," Ciri gives him a soft elbow in his side which Geralt responds to with an amused half-hearted smile as her words were heavy on his entire body.  Jaskier never once talked about his riches, wealth, his home, his family. He never showboated and instead was happy strumming the strings of his lute and singing merrily and he did it all with a smile. Geralt could never imagine any other noble doing this. They were friends for what? Almost two decades? And this train of thought never once came to Geralt? Never?!  Geralt was angry at himself. Jaskier was his... friend and yet Geralt knew so little about him. Now that he thinks about it, Geralt only knew Jaskier, the bard and never knew Julain, the lord.  Geralt must've been really deep in thought as he hadn't even realized he'd collided straight into someone. He resurfaced from his mind when someone small and narrow framed hit his chest.  "Oh, sorry..." came a small voice from below and at the very moment. Blue and Amber eyes were mere centimeters from each other. The air was suddenly very thick and heavy like smoke. It was as if the whole room had stopped just to watch Geralt and Jaskier like the music had stopped so they had center stage but really Jaskier was just stuck in the moment as he looks hard into Geralt's amber eyes. For the first time, Jaskier struggled to find the words. Even Geralt struggled to find his breath like his throat was tightening. He did want to meet with Jaskier, desperately in fact but not like this. Not thrown together in heat of a feast.  "Jaskier, I-" Geralt begins and without even realizing, he raised his hand for Jaskier's shoulder as if instinct only for Jaskier to step away from his hand to hold his chin up.  "Julain," spat Jaskier.  "Huh?" is all Geralt could manage. "It's Julain. Lord Julain." His words were so... lifeless. Like he was reading from a script. There was no sweetness or dramatization to his voice and his arms remained steady at the side which was so unlike him. Usually, he was up singing about tales, hands flared and animated as he spoke with joy. "You will address me as such."  That wasn't right. Jaskier was Jaskier, not Julain and certainly not Lord Julain. Never before had Geralt been afraid of Jaskier. Not that Geralt was worried Jaskier would go for a punch or anything but because Jaskier looked at Geralt with so much hate, anger and sadness that it froze Geralt. It was like Jaskier was looking at Geralt like he was indeed a monster. Much like most nobles look at Geralt.  He could smell that sickening and putrid smell of anger that oozed from Jaskier.  "Jas... Lord Julain," the words felt wrong in Geralt's mouth and even Ciri cringed at it. "I need to speak with you," Geralt was almost begging.  Yen could see the desperation the Geralt's face but even Yen's cold heart crushed as Jaskier looked down at Geralt from his nose without so much as recognition in his eyes but it was at that moment Yennefer saw it.  Love.  They say Witchers are devoid of all emotion but at that very moment, Geralt was almost a different man as he pleaded with the man he loved only for his heart to be crushed.  "I don't know what you're doing here," hisses Jaskier sounding a little more like himself although Yennefer knew Jaskier would never speak like that to Geralt out of his own will. "You told me it would be a blessing if I was out of your hands and yet here you stand pleading with me?"  "I know but I-I didn't mean-" It was happening but Geralt didn't know it was happening. Everything was he wanted to say was swimming in his mind, fighting over each other to try and get to his mouth so Geralt couldn't actually string a sentence together.  "You didn't mean it?" laughs Jaskier but his laugh was not his own. It was not his usually explosive laughter but this was more a cold one. "Then why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me leave?" His voice cracks and wobbles but Jaskier somehow managed to save himself from utter embarrassment.  What would his family think if they saw him crying? Crying at the feet of a Witcher? Pathetic.  Speaking of family, Jaskier froze with fear as the thin and boney arm of Beatrice swung around his neck. She smelt of her usual roses but she had the bittersweet smell of alcohol and food on her.  It was bad enough Geralt had come to talk to him and now he was having to keep a strong front against his sister after what she did last night. He couldn't let Geralt know what they had done because then Geralt would know that Jaskier had no place with his family. That he was a disappointment.  "Come now, little brother," her words are slurred a woozy as hangs from Jaskier's neck and he grimaces at his sister's drunkness. "Geralt and Yennefer are esteemed guests and if I recall correctly-" shit. "You are the famous white wolf? Geralt of Rivia?" she points to Geralt with her goblet making wine splash out onto the floor. "I am, yes," Geralt squints his eyes at Beatrice trying to study her but his eyes fall back to Jaskier who is surprisingly stiff.  He didn't look comfortable at all with his sister that close to him. Or maybe he wasn't comfortable with being this close to Geralt? No. Geralt smelt Jaskeir's fear intensify as his sister latched onto him.  He was scared of his own sister and Geralt was willing to bet Jaskier was scarred of the rest of his family.  "You know," she swallows down a hiccup. "You are extremely handsome. I thought Julain was just being stupidly dramatic about you but damn," Beatrice tries to straighten herself out but instead finds herself leaning into Jaskier again but never once breaking her eye contact with Geralt. "You are very nice to look at."  "You're married, Beatrice," said Jaskier in a low voice to his sister, trying to brush over the fact that Beatrice just let slip that Jaskier thought Geralt was handsome.  "Yeah. Unhappily," snorts Beatrice rather loudly. She finds enough strength to push off Jaskier so she's now standing by herself. "So what do you say, white wolf!" Beatrice opens her arms wildly and attempts to look at Geralt with a flirtatious look but it looks like she's having a stroke.  "Julain.. talked about me?" Just when Jaskier thought the worst was over... but there was a certain softness to Geralt's voice that made Jaskier's heart flicker.  "Nope," said Beatrice rather bluntly. "But he wrote about you, aaaaaa lot!" She swings her goblet up for a drink only for her to underestimate which sent her drink down the front of her dress. Geralt's face contorts as he thinks. Jaskier only ever wrote in that worn songbook of his and he never let anyone read it not even Geralt.  "Uh, uh, uh. A good craftsman never shows his unfinished masterpiece until it is finished," he would scold whenever Geralt tried to sneak a peek at whatever Jaskier was scribbling down in there.  If Geralt never got to see it, then why would Jaskier let his sister (of whom he is clearly afraid of) see it. Unless.. it was against Jaskier's will.  Geralt's rage boiled. "Excuse but we have to go," said Jaskier with a shaky sigh as he looks to the floor to avoid Geralt's deadly glare. He loops Beatrice's arm back over his neck and steadies her. "Enjoy the rest of your night." Even if his words kind, there was no meaning to them and they fell flat in the air.  Jaskier turns to leave with a half-conscious Beatrice drooling on his shoulder but something tugs on Geralt's heart.  Pulling and urging him to take Jaskier's hand and pull him back. Something hard and meaningful that made his heart hurt and stomach churn.  Love.  "Julain-" Geralt gives in and takes a grip of Jaskier's arm and gives it a soft tug only for Jaskier to yelp out in pain. "Shit, I didn't mean to-" Geralt recoils his hand as Jaskier twists his head around with his face pinched in pain.  "It's fine, it wasn't you," with his free hand Jaskier rubs his shoulder trying to soothe the burning pain.  "Someone hurt you?" Instinctively Geralt jumps into protective mode. "Who was it?!" Jaskier almost smiled at the way Geralt genuinely cared for him, cared for Jaskier in a way none of his family ever did but it was little too late. The time for Geralt's apologies and care was years ago.   "Noone. I slept on it funny," lied Jaskier once again avoiding Geralt's piercing gaze as Jaskier knows as soon as he looks at Geralt, he'll tell him everything. "I must go, apologies. Goodnight."  "Wait," now it was Yennefers turn to pester Jaskier and clearly it worked at Jaskier snapped his neck around to scowl at the sorceress.  "Oh for fuck sake what is it now!" His voice was low enough that no one else paid any mind to it but it was so low it was like a growl and Yen actually found herself flinching away from the bard.  "Your brother, Finneus," Yen composes herself. "Where is he?"  "Lemme guess. He owes you money," huffs Jaskier letting his shoulders drop.  Yen simply nods.  "Well, you just missed him. The rat bastard saw you a scampered. Your best bet is looking for him in his chamber, he's probably packing his shit." There was real hatred in Jaskier's voice. Yen recognized that hate as a hate so deep-rooted and strong that you would do anything to be free of them. "His chamber. Where is it?" Yennefer steps out towards the bard as urgency grips her. "Up the main stairs, left corridor, fourth door on your right."  "Hah, marvelous. Thank you, Lord Julain," she gives a slight nod of her head before scurrying off but she must admit, it was unnerving to address the bard so highly for she only ever knew Jaskier as Geralt's pet bard now... something had snapped inside of Jaskier. And now it was only Geralt, Jaskier and Ciri who was looking between the bard and the witcher, suffocating under the tension.  Finally, Geralt spoke again. "Jaskier I need-" "Save it," Jaskier holds a hand out and Geralt surprisingly fell silent. "I have guests to attend to and clearly you are at Yennefers bidding again. Go." His words are blunt and have a simple sadness to them. Like this was Jaskier's way of saying goodbye.  And sure enough, when Geralt looked behind him Yen was stood at the base of the stairs waving at him but when Geralt turned, he saw only Jaskier melting back in the crowd.  But Jaskier was stupid if he thought Geralt was going to let it end like that...    

"The door," Harry said, trying to prioritize with his head rather than his cock. His cock was saying this was a rather brilliant position to have suddenly found itself in, and hey, let's spend a minute or two rubbing up against a tantalizingly wet Malfoy. "We have to get the door open." "Oh, open the door. I never would have thought of that. Is that what you brought to the war, a keen sense of the absolutely obvious?" Malfoy banged his head against the wall a time or two but didn't let go of Harry. "The doors down here are charmed to seal shut if there's water pouring into a room. Flooding in a dungeon is serious business, Potter." "What about the people in the room? You just let them drown?" Slytherins, Harry thought. "That's horrible!" Malfoy let his head fall forward until their foreheads met with a clunk. "No, Potter, it's sensible. The founders thought if there was water coming in, it would be through a broken window. Which the students could then swim out of. Understand? Are there any other safety measures regarding living under a lake that you'd like to cover before our imminent deaths?" "We're not going to die, you berk." Harry tried to make that sound authoritative. It came out a little squeakier than he would have liked—the water was cold and it was starting to tickle his bollocks. Still, some of his panic had faded away. Malfoy was alive, Harry had gotten to him, no one had drowned yet, and there had to be a way out of this. "When your room-mates come back," Harry said, after a moment more of thought, "they won't be able to open the door either. They'll call for help and someone will get us out." Malfoy sneered. "Dinner just started. By the time they come back, find out something's wrong, get help, and get us out, we'll be blue, wrinkly, and very, very dead. Try again." "Fine. I've got a bubblehead charm on. I'll do one on you too and we'll be able to last until they get us out of here." Malfoy sighed like he did it professionally—long and weary and full of resignation. His chest rose and fell interestingly against Harry's as he breathed. "Bubblehead charms only last an hour. Imbecile." "So I'll do it again and again until they get us out of here." Harry knew he really didn't need to be having this conversation while pressed tight against Malfoy. The water rushing in was loud, sure, and it was swirling and tugging at their legs but really, he could move back an inch or two at least. Not that he was going to. "The slightest little problem and you give up? What, if you can't hire someone to do it, it can't be done?" "Well I certainly wouldn't hire you," Malfoy said brightly, letting his arms hang over Harry's shoulders like they were the oldest and closest of friends. "Seeing as how you obviously don't know how bubblehead charms work." Harry waited. If there was a flaw in his plan, he was sure Malfoy would point it out. Not that there was. "Those of us who have to pass our NEWTS with knowledge rather than fame understand that bubblehead charms enclose a pocket of air, right? The pocket of air surrounding your head, to be precise. The air which in a not inconsiderable amount of time will be nonexistent in this room. If, while we're drowning, you wish to enclose our heads in an extra bubble of water, however, then it's a marvelous charm. Go right ahead." Oh. Harry scrunched his face, trying to remember anything else about the charm even as that particular hope died a messy death. "It doesn't pull air from somewhere else?" "No, Potter. Air cannot apparate in. Just like we can't apparate out." Malfoy let the fake bright look go out. "Which is why we're going to die." "Fine, so my first idea won't work." Harry looked down at the water, which was now up to his waist, then back at the cabinet it was still pouring out of. Ok, he had another plan— "We use magic to close the cabinet doors, we might not be strong enough to push them closed physically but if we use a force charm—" Malfoy was leaning his forehead against Harry's again. "Twat. Once again you display a complete lack of understanding of the magical object in question." The look on his face was almost fond, though he was probably just fond of the chance to call Harry a twat. "Think about it." Harry scowled and thought about it. Vanishing Cabinets had been used to escape from Death Eaters, right? But you wouldn't want someone at the other end to be able to accidentally interrupt your arrival, so once the connection was established, it probably couldn't be stopped until everything had come through, which in this case was the entire contents of the lake— "Destroy the cabinet completely," Harry said, fast as the thought hit him. "No cabinet, no connection." Malfoy was already shaking his head. "Won't work. They're layered in protection charm on protection charm. Indestructible, at least in the time we have." The water was over his waist now. Not quite to nipple height but definitely at 'get a good plan right now' height. Malfoy pulled him a little closer. Neither of them were talking about the 'wrapped close as lovers' part of this, but there it was. "Potter. Get me my wand." Hope surged in Harry's chest. Had Malfoy thought of something? "Accio, Malfoy's wand," he called out. Nothing happened for a moment then a pale wand leaped out of the water like a thin silver fish. It hit Harry's hand with a wet slap and he passed it over to Malfoy. "So? What's your plan?" Malfoy wrapped his hand around his wand and dropped his head to Harry's shoulder. His words came out muffled by wet sweater. "I don't have one. I just wanted to die with my wand in my hand." Harry tightened his grip, solely for the purpose of making it easier to growl in Malfoy's ear. Not to comfort him. "I've come up with four plans and you haven't thought of a single one! So who's the useless berk here, huh?" Malfoy lifted his head. "You've come up with four stupid, useless plans and I've had to spend valuable time explaining why they won't work. So you're the berk." Harry went ahead and wrapped his arms fully around Malfoy, because Malfoy was shivering and it was the right thing to do. Plus, something about body heat, right? "At least you got to spend the last hour of your life telling me how stupid and wrong I am. That's got to be pretty nice." Malfoy swayed in the water and kind of laughed. "Should I even ask why my dorm room is filling with lake water and why you're here too but you don't have any way out either? Is that a profitable use of my last minutes or do I just really not want to know? It's not like there haven't been plenty of other things, major things, that nobody's bothered to explain to me until it's too late to make a difference." "The short answer is the twins—" Malfoy nodded, as if 'the twins' explained everything. Which it pretty much did. "The long answer—" Harry stopped. The long answer involved the words 'magic sex contract' and there was no way he was going there. "The long answer's not worth getting into right now. Except I didn't do this to you and I'm, er, very sorry it happened." Malfoy didn't answer. Just sniffed a bit. Harry wasn't sure if it was a scoffing type sniff, or a teary sniff, or just a water-up-the-nose type sniff. Anyway, the water was now rippling across Harry's nipples, and it was chilling and scary and uncomfortably stimulating all at once. "I'd, er, rather spend my final moments doing something else. Not that I think these are our final moments, okay? I'm just taking a quick mental break on making plans." Harry really meant that. He hadn't survived Voldemort just to die from a stupid Weasley prank. That would make the worst, most ridiculous footnote in the history books since Winifred the Wonderful defeated the Five Troll Army Invasion then choked to death on a ham sandwich while signing autographs. Malfoy eyed him warily. "What did you have in mind?" Winifred…trolls…ham sandwiches…choking to death…autographs… Harry ran through every thought he'd just had in his mind, none of which were things he wanted to discuss. Ever. What he'd really wanted was— Fuck it. If these were going to be his last few minutes on earth, he wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Draco Malfoy. Harry leaned forward until their lips brushed. Malfoy's lips were smooth and, surprisingly for the circumstances, not wet. They quivered uncertainly under the press of Harry's mouth and then slowly the kiss was returned, lips softening, head tilting to let Harry come closer. Harry brought his hand up to Malfoy's neck and cupped his head, leaning in to deepen the kiss. From the nipples down Malfoy's body was cold and wet, his sodden clothes plastered to his thin form. His lips were cold too. But they opened, tentative and unsure. Harry wondered when that had happened—the Malfoy he knew from before sixth year had never seemed unsure of anything. Harry's tongue licked out before he could stop it, wanting to taste and feel. And past those cold lips, Malfoy's mouth was warm. Harry's cock stiffened. Despite the water, despite the danger—or maybe because of it. Or maybe just because it saw no reason not to celebrate being locked in an embrace with a lean male body. He pushed into Malfoy's mouth and for a moment there was more of that uncertainty, then their heads were tilting and Harry was falling forward into a tangle of hands in hair and warm welcoming tongue, and hips that pressed eagerly into his own. There was an answering hardness swelling there and his cock was completely on board with forgetting about the whole death-by-drowning thing in favor of the need that was seizing hold of him, spiraling up from his groin and making him shake with pleasure. Basically, it was a bloody fantastic snog and Harry hated to end it but— "I have an idea," he said, forcing himself to pull away, panting. "See? Letting me take a break from thinking worked perfectly. We can--" Malfoy groaned. "I'm about to die in water fish have peed in. It's undignified enough without having to spend my last few minutes listening to Gryffindorish prattle about impossible escapes." "No, hear me out." Harry's heart was pounding double-time from combined fear and lust but he thought he had it this time. Water swirled around his neck. "See, the windows might be specially reinforced against breaking but why would they do that to a dorm room door? Its edges are charmed shut but it won't be charmed to resist a concentrated Reducto in the middle. We'll smash it to pieces." "A combined Reducto on the door?" Malfoy's head tilted consideringly, cheek coming perilously close to the ever-rising water. Harry's heart beat faster. They didn't have much time left but Malfoy couldn't think of any reason this wouldn't work and he was nearly as smart as Hermione. He grabbed Malfoy's hand and tugged him until they stood directly in front of the door. "Get your wand ready. They'll work underwater, don't worry about that, just put everything you have into it." Malfoy nodded stiffly. He raised his wand and pointed it at the door. "We need to concentrate our combined magic on the smallest possible area. Drill a hole and the water will rush through, helping us break it." "On my mark," Harry raised his wand, then stopped. "Wait. You're right." He shoved his wand back into his waistband. Malfoy was looking at him questioningly, pale and frightened but determined now. "I know the best way to concentrate our magic." Harry moved behind him, wrapped one arm around Malfoy's waist, and covered his hand on the wand. "I think I proved your wand works for me," he said, not able to help the smile that curved his lips up as he pressed them to Malfoy's neck. "Come on now. The wand just directs the magic. We'll let our power flow through it together." He felt more than saw Malfoy's nod. Fingers tightened under his on the wand and at the same time, they both breathed out a firm Reducto. Magic rose to his call and poured down his arm and out the wand. Malfoy's magic bubbled around it, lighter than his own somehow, and together they swirled out the end of the wand and slammed into the door. Sparks flew even underwater. It looked like a video Uncle Vernon had brought home once, something where they were supposed to admire the drills but all Harry had really noticed was the welder's flame, cutting a path through steel with fire. The door might as well be steel, Harry thought a moment later as not even the smallest hole had appeared. What the hell did the Slytherins want their doors to withstand, a battering ram? There were flimsier portcullises, he bet, but he kept his magic strong and flowing. Malfoy was leaning back into him, open now in a way Harry had never seen, letting the stronger flow of Harry's magic pull his own out. Their magic was connecting, merging. It was... right. Being wrapped around Malfoy, with Malfoy pressing back against him, was right. If they ever managed to get out of here, Harry wasn't going to waste any more time. Every cell in his body, every particle of his magic, was telling him that the other things he wanted to do with Malfoy would feel right as well. Malfoy gasped. Harry saw why a second later—a tiny hole had appeared in the door. It was working! Part of him wanted to stick his tongue in Malfoy's ear and go nah-nah-nah, who's the stupid Gryffindor now, but the larger, smarter part of him wanted to live and so he kept the wand tight and focused. The water was up to his chin. He'd been so intent on the door that he'd barely noticed it climbing higher. Now it was lapping at the ends of his hair and inside, he could feel his magic tiring. All of it, he had said, and he'd meant it, but it was so hard to keep the wand steady, the hole enlarging. Malfoy was trembling with exertion but the fizz of his magic kept flowing, and it called to Harry's, twisting together into something bright and powerful. Something gave and when it gave it went all at once. The hole went from tiny to massive as the center of the door blew out. Harry's heart leaped with joy and relief and triumph all at once but he had no time to think about it. Water rushed through the hole, pouring out in a wave that swept them both out of the room and past the accursed door, sides scraping painfully as they popped free. It was too wet and too tidal to properly stand and so together they slipped and skidded down the corridor. Harry risked a glance back as they stumbled up the stairs to the common room. The door had smashed completely open and if anything, the water was pouring out faster than ever. Some kind of magic, he supposed—the greater the space to fill, the more water was coming through. They were still ahead of it, though, and he kept Malfoy close to him, pulling him up each time he fell. Into the common room, and Harry pelted across as fast as he could make Malfoy move, tensing as behind them the water bellowed. He looked back again in time to see it explode out of the stairwell with the force of a geyser, sending hungry foaming wave after wave after them. Harry had only a second or two as they ran to consider the irreparable damage lake-water would do to those gorgeous black leather sofas and finely carved tables, then they were hitting the door at a shivering run, arm in arm. The stone entrance creaked as it opened and they tumbled out to the roar of angry water. "I can't—" Malfoy panted, limped a step and then collapsed. The stone door slammed closed behind them and Harry sank to the floor beside him, pulling Malfoy into his arms. The rumble of water was still loud, ferocious, but they were on the right side of the charmed door now. "We're safe, shhh," Harry said, feeling stupid and guilty and more wet than he'd ever been. He flopped all the way back, unable to even sit, and Malfoy slid down next to him, practically blue in the face. Harry hauled him on top and started rubbing his back, worried, feeling Malfoy's too-thinness and the cold that had seeped so deeply into him that the dungeon stone seemed almost warm in comparison. Malfoy let out a little helpless sound and turned his face into Harry's neck. If only he had enough strength left for a drying charm, maybe a warming charm, and Harry definitely wasn't thinking this was a relatively fine position to find himself in— A shadow fell over them. Harry looked up and then looked up a little more at the tall figure now standing there, a pleasantly amused expression spreading across his face. Blaise Zabini, close enough to take in every detail of their drenched embrace, but just far enough back to keep his expensive-looking shoes away from their dirty puddle. Behind him crowded the rest of Slytherin House, a mass of curious eyes and dropped jaws and whispering heads. "I'd say, get a room but," and here Zabini paused long enough for the rumbling water on the other side of the door to make its own statement, "but I'm guessing that might have become, ah, problematic? Am I correct?"

Chapter 65 October 31st, 1994 Hogwarts They left the Great Hall with Fleur having put her name in the Goblet of Fire "Ok," Harry said, "Follow me". "Where are we going," Fleur asked. "Someplace I think you will find interesting," He said. Shrugging Fleur followed her boyfriend to see what he had to show her. They arrived at a second floors girl bathroom. "Why are we at a girls bathroom Arry," Fleur asked. "It's ok there's no one who goes to this bathroom" He reassured her. And like he said the bathroom seemed pretty run down. Fleur looked as he led her to a sink. He began speaking in the language of the snakes Parseltongue. She had known for a while that her boyfriend had the ability to speak Parseltongue. It did not worry her about his ability but it was weird hearing it in real life. Soon a staircase came off the side of the sink. She followed down the stairs where after walking down another hallway they arrived in a large chamber. She stared around her in wonder. 'Where is this?' 'The Chamber of Secrets,' Harry grinned. "Wow," Fleur said "This is the Salazar Slytherin's Chamber then" "Yes," He replied. "How on earth did you find this place," She asked. "It's a long story," He said chuckling. Harry took Fleur to then see the Bookshelf in the back of the chamber. She seemed very interested in seeing all of the interesting books and tomes. One of the books that he wanted to look at the most he needed her help with due to the requirement of two people for it to work successfully. He wanted to become an Anigmus. So they soon were reading the book about Anigmus training together. 'An animagus, is able, once they are fully capable of using their form, of retaining most of their faculties, even if they are influenced while within their animagus body. Ordinary human to animal transfiguration leaves the altered wizard or witch with no more intelligence or understanding than the animal they have become. A partial transfiguration can have either effect, depending on the part of the body altered. "In order to become an Anigmus, you must need another person with you who will use a spell caused Mutata Interiore "Well, you mind doing at"Harry asked. Fleur said "Mutata Interiore" and Harry closed his eyes. There was a glimpse of a slim, black body. Slender scales, tapering away. Dark eyes, gleaming like gimlets. The dispassionate, distant curiosity of the hunter, its patience, its power. The cruel-edged, long, straight beak, curving talons, and the sleek feathers that concealed him in the shadows. A raven. The curiosity was catching, the sense of the raven slipping closer to himself, pervading and permeating his mind, twisting his thoughts into unreadable loops. Harry was distantly aware that he was changing, the world looming larger, and the ceiling rising away from him. Old-cold-living-stone. It rung under his talons as he tapped them against it, intrigued that what was not-alive felt so strange. He clacked his beak, hopping from the floor to the warmer, dead-wood-once-trees; it gave him a better view of the room. Dipping his beak into his feathers he eyed the surroundings, tilting and tipping his head to take in as much as he could as quickly as he could. Two-legged-no-wings-no-feathers. The creature seemed familiar, but it was old and slow. He could see it in the lines of its pale skin, the talonless tips of its feet, and the greying of its hair. Not prey. Not a threat. He clacked his beak at it curiously, hopping closer. It was the only creature present. The living stone drove the others away with its unusualness. The creature moved with sudden speed, and the desk crumpled underneath him, pitching him onto the floor with an indignant squawk, until he found himself staring at his fingers on the stone, and the raven faded away. 'How curious?' Harry stood up slowly, inspecting himself to see if he was completely human again. He was. 'I truly was the raven.' XXXXXXXXXXXXX After finishing reading about Anigmus Harry was able to somehow convince Fleur to have a mock duel. Neither particularly wanted to hurt each other but it would be good practice. Fleur was waiting in the middle of the chamber with her rosewood wand, extended out to her right. 'Normal rules,' Fleur decided, conjuring a glowing circle across the floor. 'Nothing too dangerous, and no speaking anything but spells and no trying to distract each other.' Her wand snapped up without warning, and Harry immediately flicked his into his palm in preparation. 'Shall we begin,' Fleur returned her wand arm to its original position and Harry mirrored her, forcing himself to look away from her eyes and consider her an enemy. Fleur struck first, unleashing a trio of jinxes with her wand movements sliding from one spell into the next without halting. He deflected two of them back at her, side-stepping the last and attacked himself, throwing every one of the borderline useless spells he knew at her, but Fleur proved impossible to touch. She stepped around them, weaving fluidly, almost dancing amongst the beams of magic, deflecting the few she could not dodge back at him and constantly turning and twisting him along the edge of the ring stretching the angles he could deflect her spells at to their limit. Harry couldn't seem to pin her down, no matter how fast he cast, and his spells were slicing across the air from his wand tip twice as fast as Fleur could send them back. She was glorious in action. It was hard to ignore the way she moved to avoid his magic, the way Fleur curved away from his hexes was almost hypnotic. Fleur may not like to fight a lot but she sure knew how to defend herself well enough. The events of the World Cup and the Tournament had gotten her interested in really learning self-defense. Abandoning his assault for a moment, he slashed his wand across his chest drawling the water from the pool behind her, he conjured a liquid serpent the length of the bridge that twisted forwards through the air to encircle and shatter her shield. 'Expelliarmus,' Harry murmured, just as her defenses faltered, and then it was over, and Fleur's wand was in his hand. Grinning triumphantly he gave Fleur her wand back. Fleur scowled but he knew she was fine with everything. 'So what did you think?' He asked. ``I can't believe you beat me already' she sighed. 'Already?' 'I expected you to win eventually, I'm good at dueling, but I'm better suited to enchanting and other subtler aspects of magic as well as the medical field" "Well at the very least we will never have to face each other on a battlefield," Harry said. "Indeed" Fleur agreed. Harry noticed the time. "We had better go if we want to get to the Selection Ceremony on time," He said. "Oui" Fleur said and followed him out of the Chamber as they headed back upstairs and to the Great Hall. They would be working more at a later date on his Animagus form and seeing if he could transform into a raven.

xiv. There’s a woman in the cage. The box. Whatever they call it. There’s a woman in it. She’s short. Pale, deathly pale. Red hair. Pretty. She’s wearing a baggy jumper with a batman symbol on it and a pair of skinny jeans. Her feet are bare, but the toes are painted scarlet. The clothes don’t suit her. High heels and flouncy dresses, her hair in perfect curls - that would suit her, and Thomas doesn’t know why he’s so sure about this, but he is. She heaves in a breath like she’s fighting for it, and she looks straight at Thomas as though she knew where he’d be. She says, “Stiles.”   xv. He puts her out of his mind. She’s nothing to do with him, just another kid sent up to the glade. Who cares if it was unusual? Who cares if she’s the first girl they’ve had, who gives a flying fuck about anything to do with her? Thomas doesn’t. He doesn’t. He cares about the griever rotting in the maze and the secrets it holds. He cares about getting out. He feels constricted, hemmed in by the walls of the maze - his maze, his fucking maze and if it’s so saturated with his magic why can’t he get out? Why can’t he just blast his way through, force it open, why can’t he get the fuck out of here? He can’t focus. He needs to focus. There’s something he’s missing, something important and he just needs to sit down and think. He needs everyone to stop fucking looking at him like that, he needs his thoughts to shut up and stop distracting him. He’s pacing so fast he almost gives himself whiplash when he turns. His fingers tug at the hem of his shirt and his pulse is rabbiting in his neck. He needs to calm down. He wants Alby, wants the dryad’s endless patience, but Alby’s sick and Thomas’ magic is sparking and fighting his control and Thomas doesn’t know how much longer he can keep Alby grounded. He’s started fitting on the hospital bed. Clint gave him a swipe of paralysing poison, but Alby’s still shaking. He’s going to get worse and there’s nothing Thomas can do and if he wasn’t trapped then maybe maybe maybe But that’s no help because he needs to fucking focus. He turns back to head for Newt because he’s hyperventilating and he can’t stop and he needs his pack, but that’s a bad plan, that’s a really messed up bad plan because what the hell is even up with Newt and just at the moment Thomas can’t deal. He takes a breath, as deep as he can. Tries to count it down. A shadow of a memory flicks through, someone staying with him, counting his breaths for him when he can’t hold onto the numbers. But they’re not here. They’re out there and Thomas is in here and he’s trapped. He can’t get out. His magic thrashes against the maze and it’s his maze so why doesn’t it listen to him why isn’t it moving and why isn’t it opening and he can’t get out he can’t breath there’s a ringing in his ears he can’t breath there are black spots dancing across the edges of his vision and he can’t get out the girl called him Stiles but that’s not his name it’s not it’s not it’s not “Thomas?” Thomas spins, grips their shoulders hard enough to bruise. “I need to get back into the maze,” he gasps, and that’s - that’s clarity. That’s calm. “I need to get back into the maze,” he repeats, slower, his vision clearing and his breathing stabilising. Minho shrugs his hands off. “Have you got a death wish?” he hisses. “You only just got out of the maze, now you want to go back in?” Thomas shakes his head. “I want to get out - for good. Think about it, Minho! No one’s ever seen a griever and now we have one. Ours, just lying there. Aren’t you even a little curious?” He’s grinning, hands flying wildly to illustrate his point. The griever is their ticket out, the bit he’s been missing. Minho is stepping back, folding his arms, but Thomas has him, he knows it. They’re going back in the maze.   xvi. Is Minho pack now? Minho kinda seems like he should be pack now. He stuck his arm into griever-goop to get Thomas a shiny beeping magic thing. He’s definitely pack now.   xvii. “It’s a key,” Thomas explains as Newt turns the cylinder over in his hands. The other boy is back to being cool and almost distant with Thomas, but then again, their hands maybe brushed a tiny bit when Thomas was handing the cylinder over and Thomas is maybe a little bit highly strung around Newt at the moment. For obvious reasons. He pushes it down and drags his mind back to the matter at hand. “I don’t know what for exactly, not yet, but it interacts with the maze.” Newt runs his thumb over the letters down the side and Thomas’ heart skips a beat. Fuck’s sake, he’s in a room full of weres with heart-beat-detecting hearing. He needs to get a grip. “How?” “I don’t remember the mechanics -” no, wait. That’s not true. Thomas tilts his head to the side, waiting for the information that was hovering on the edge of his mind. Sometimes, sometimes you just have to be cunning with these things. “The maze… It’s too big. Something that complicated, you can’t change part of it. The whole thing collapses if you try.” He nods to himself, more confident in what he’s saying. It makes sense. Sky is blue, things that go up must come down, and, “When a seal is too complex to rewrite on the fly, you write the original seal to cover all possibilities and use separate commands to flip between the options. It’s a matrix transformation; same data always encoded in the matrix, but different outputs depending on the transformation you’ve applied.” Yes, that’s it - he reaches for the cylinder. Newt hands it over with a bemused expression that Thomas fails to notice. He digs his fingers into the casing, sending out an exploratory flare of magic to get a reading and - called it. He bares his teeth in a vicious smile. “It is a runic matrix, I knew it. This is how they control the maze, don’t you see? Load the right runes onto the grievers and send them to the right place - it’s programming, programming with magic, oh my god I’m in heaven, I didn’t even know this was possible on this scale - do you even understand what this means?” “No?” Minho hazards. He doesn’t seem to grasp the enormity of Thomas’ discovery. Thomas waves the life changing magic cylinder at him to help him see. “Wards! Dynamic wards - you could key them to people, or activate different wards at different times, you could set traps with these anywhere and no one could sense them because there wouldn’t be anything to sense, not until you activated the wards do you see? And spells, god could you imagine a multi layered spell with a hidden second phase? Mayhem! Chaos! Minho this is beautiful!” Newt grabs a flailing hand and drags Thomas back a step. “Does it help us break the maze?” he demands. Thomas whirls on him, because this is so much bigger than the maze, it’s - Newt’s serious face stops him in his tracks. He plays the conversation back through his head until he’s back with the program again. “Yes,” he manages in a calmer voice. “The grievers use it to move around in the maze. If we can get back in the maze, if we can work out how to apply it, we can use it for the same thing.” Newt frowns at him, working through what he’s said, and Thomas lifts his chin. He’s sure about this. Newt’s still holding his wrist. Just, just by the by. “Ok.” Newt nods and takes a step back. His fingers drag up the inside of Thomas’ arm when he lets go and there’s fire trailing in their wake. Thomas swallows and tries to pretend that he’s not affected. He pokes at Newt’s pack bond again but it’s still - he’s still - frustratingly silent. “Ok,” Newt repeats. “I’m not going to say I understood most of that, but I got the gist.” “How the hell do you even know that stuff?” Minho asks, and Thomas absolutely did not jump, because he hadn’t forgotten that Minho was there. It’s not like his whole attention had been on Newt or anything. No. Gally snorts (and Thomas hadn’t forgotten he was there either, he’s doing well with that today, and yes, sarcasm is a way of life and lying to himself is a human right that he will not be denied). “Didn’t you get the memo? All powerful alpha Thomas has strange and mysterious powers that are beyond us mere mortals.” Alpha? The hell? “Gally,” Newt starts, but the other boy cuts across him. “Oh come on, Newt, you can’t be serious! First he breaks our rules, then he tries to get them thrown out completely. You see what he’s doing, don’t you?” He jabs a hand at Thomas to illustrate his point and his lips twist into a sneer. “We’ve spent three years building up this glade, making it equal and ordered and making it work. He spends three days here and he’s trying to control everything because he’s an alpha and that’s what alphas do.” “I’m not trying to control anything!” Thomas protests. “This isn’t a fucking coup, Gally - I’m getting us out of the maze, that’s it. That’s all of it!” “Yeah?” Gally bares his teeth. “Then prove it, shank! If you were any other glader you’d be punished for breaking the rules. You going to submit to that?” “Yes!” There’s a stunned silence. Thomas runs a hand through his hair and tries to get his breathing under control. “I’m not your enemy,” he says finally. “I want to get out - but I want everyone to get out. I’m not leaving you behind.” He lets his hand drop and shrugs. “Alby left Newt in charge. If Newt says punishment, I’m not going to fight it.” “But Newt’s an omega,” Gally says. “I know.” Actually, he’s fairly certain that Newt’s a beta now, but best not quibble. “And you’re an alpha.” “Doesn’t matter.” And he’s still dubious about the whole alpha schtick. He doesn’t feel like much of an alpha, he’s just… Just Thomas. He wanted a pack, that’s all. Gally stares. “What the hell shank, you’re not even lying.” Thomas shrugs again. There’s not much else he can say to that. “Newt?” he asks, keeping his gaze trained on the scuffed footprints on the floor. Newt’s going to give a punishment. He kind of has to, at this point. And Thomas has to obey it or let Gally turn him into a liar. Which he isn’t. He hopes Newt doesn’t banish him. Or ban him from the maze. He’s so close, so close to getting them all out of here. And… he doesn’t know where he stands with Newt at the moment. This whole ignoring you - oh wait no, here’s some eye fucking - no, back to ignoring you thing, it’s confusing. “Thomas broke the rules,” Newt finally announces. “He needs to be punished.” Thomas braces himself, shoulders tense. “One night in the pit, no food.” He’s stunned. He barely hears Gally’s angry protests, barely even registers Newt promoting him to runner status. He nods and tries not to grin (he doubts it would go down well). Newt’s supporting him. Newt wants him to go back, is helping him find a way to fix this stupid mess and get them out. It doesn’t explain the whole ignoring thing, but - it’s a start. He waits for the others to file out (or angrily stomp out in Gally’s case) until it’s just him and Newt left in the hut. And then, then, see, he has a plan. A well thought out plan where he’ll calmly ask Newt to explain, and Newt will say something that makes sense and then they’ll laugh and hug it out and maybe if Thomas is lucky the hug will go in an interesting direction. The important thing is that he starts out calm. He toes the door to a closed position and takes a deep breath. Turns to face Newt. Remembers his calm. He is all of the calm. His chi is in balance. Newt’s got one eyebrow raised. He’s leaning back against the wall with his head tipped back and his eyes half lidded and his crossed arms pulling his shirt low at the collar. The left side of his lips twitch up into a smirk. Guh. “You going to try and talk me out of it?” Newt asks, and holy whores in a crack house it should be illegal for a voice to be that sexy. It’s low and there’s a hint of roughness at the edges and with Newt’s accent it just rolls off his tongue like caramel syrup oh my god. “What?” Thomas manages to croak. The half smirk evolves into a full smirk. Newt pushes off the wall in one smooth movement. His shoulders ripple beneath his shirt and there’s a bead of sweat running down his throat to pool in the hollow of his collar bones. It’s hypnotising. Thomas can’t look away from that bead of sweat. A griever could break through the roof and Thomas would be dead because of that bead of sweat. Newt’s neck is literally killing him. “Weren’t you listening?” Newt purrs. He’s walking towards Thomas - stalking towards him, hips moving with each step and if he had a tail he’d be lashing it behind him - and Thomas backs away on instinct. His back hits the wall. His magic hovers awkwardly, one step from melting through the wall to let him keep moving away, but then Newt is there, bracketing Thomas with his arms and his thigh one long line of heat against Thomas and Thomas just stares, his mouth is hanging open, holy crap he thinks he’s forgotten how his knees work if Newt wasn’t holding him up he’d be a puddle on the floor and just. Just. The bond is carefully, achingly, silent. “Your punishment,” Newt says, his lips brushing Thomas’ ear. “Shall I retract it, Alpha mine?” The bond is silent and Newt’s head is bowed, blond hair falling over his face and hiding his eyes. Thomas swallows, something bitter rising in his throat. He raises his hands to push against the other boy’s chest, but Newt takes the opportunity to dip his head. He licks one long, wet stripe up Thomas’ neck and Thomas’ knees follow up on their threat to give out beneath him. “Newt,” he gasps out, fingers clutching against his shoulders. The rough wall digs into his back and Newt’s hip is bony against his own and between them, they’re all that keeps him upright. Newt presses a grin against his throat and an ugly satisfaction bleeds down the link between them. “Is that a yes, Alpha?” Thomas grits his teeth. “No,” he manages. Newt hesitates against him. “No,” Thomas repeats, stronger. He forces his legs to cooperate and slides out sideways from underneath Newt, turning until they’re facing each other. Newt turns with him, leaning one shoulder against the wall and crossing his ankles in a facsimile of calm. “No,” he says, too flat to be a question. Thomas crosses his arms defensively and hunches in. He wants to reach for the bond again, hell, he wants to reach for Chuck just for the security that his pack would give him, but he doesn’t. Keeps all limbs and thoughts and magic carefully inside his own space. “I said I’d serve whatever punishment you decided, so I will. I’m not going to change my mind.” “Even though you’re an alpha?” His lips pull down into a sour frown. “I’m not -” he starts, but Newt cuts across him. “You are.” Newt runs a clawed hand through his hair, gripping and tugging on the blond strands. He shifts restlessly, his gaze jerking away from Thomas and back as though he can’t decide where to look. “You’re an alpha, you’ve made yourself my alpha. Alphas don’t follow orders from betas.” “Alby left you in charge,” Thomas protests. He feels sick, and he doesn’t want to understand why. “You know the glade - the Gladers - better than I do, it’d be stupid for me to take charge.” “Alphas always take charge,” Newt scoffs. Thomas shrinks in on himself further. How are they having this argument? How did they go from - from - to this? “Alphas take anything they want, it’s not like they need to ask.” He feels like he’s been plunged into ice. His voice comes as though from far away and sounds odd in his ears. “Anything. Like. Like you.” Newt snorts, sharp and hurtful. “It’s not like you hid it,” and the words cut into Thomas like talons. “You didn’t give me a choice before, why should I expect one with this?” Oh. Oh god. Because, because Thomas had been running and had been scared and Ben had been too close behind him, and he’d reached for Newt in a panic and the bond had flared to life. Because Thomas had wanted it to. Because he’d needed something that Newt had, needed Newt as his pack. He has a feeling that he’d come across an alpha before that had made a pack without asking. He has a feeling that he’d set the fucker on fire for doing it. “I’m sorry,” he croaks out. “I didn’t -” he doesn’t finish that sentence. It would probably be a lie anyway. He feels for the bond inside his head, feels how deeply it’s rooted itself, and grimaces. He can break it. He thinks. It will - it won’t be pleasant, but if he breaks it his end, then he should be able to stop any of the backlash reaching Newt. Shit, this is going to hurt. He takes a breath and screws his eyes shut, his magic coiling around and dampening the bond in preparation - Newt slams his hand away, grip hard enough to grind his wrist bones together as he pins it to the wall. “What the fuck are you doing?” the coyote snarls, eyes glowing an electric blue. “Fixing it,” Thomas spits back. Newt snarls again, pressing closer, claws digging into Thomas’ shoulder. The bond flares between them, a maelstrom of anger and shock and why why why why and something that might almost be hope. “You don’t want it,” Thomas says, but it comes out almost like a question. “So…” he licks his lips, searching for the words, and Newt’s gaze hones in like a homing beacon. Thomas’ throat goes dry. “So no pack?” “Yes pack,” Newt growls, and his eyebrows add, you bloody idiot, but there’s something almost fond in their cultured british accent. “Oh,” Thomas manages, and Newt kisses him. Guh.

  The door cracks. A strip of light floods in, almost reaching his feet from where he wedged himself into the little corner between the wall and the chest. It is the closest he can get to how things used to be in the cell, and it is pretty much all he can do to hold himself together as much as he can. It’s probably Phil bringing him some soup. He still doesn’t quite get why they’re so adamant on him having soup all the time. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy it, he just doesn’t get why it is so important for them. They weren’t as insistent on him doing any of the other things they used to do. At least it was just soup, none of the other things they had tried. Bread wasn’t too bad, just tiring to chew, but he wasn’t fond of any other things they had tried. Certainly not the golden things they had wanted him to try once. Their consistence was weird, and they left a metallic feel in his mouth. Somehow, it had deeply unsettled him, and he had refused them the next time. He doesn’t want soup right now, or at all for a while. He just wants to sit in his corner and either slip into the void or make sense of what is going on and what he is supposed to do. Everything was confusing, and he knew nothing aside from everything feeling wrong and fake. He doesn’t even know if he could trust Techno and Phil anymore. Yes, they had been friendly to him and helped his body move again. They had taken him from the little cell and brought him to this big and beautiful place with so many things to explore and learn. He knows he had felt such a profound sense of relief when he had first seen them in his cell, even if he doesn’t remember any other part of the ordeal. The sense of relief stayed, even when his guide had taken over and led him to float in the void soon after they had appeared and taken him away. It had been too strong of an impression to forget even through the whirlwind of things that had happened afterwards. But he doesn’t know what to make of the relief now. He doesn’t know what caused it. It couldn’t have been just seeing them. Because seeing Tommy or Wilbur hadn’t caused any of that relief, much more the opposite. Not even Ranboo had caused any reaction aside from mild curiosity, although he had never even gotten close to him. It couldn’t have been familiarity or anything, because it was clear that Techno and Phil were family to Tommy and Wilbur. And Tommy very clearly hated Dream, and judging by the feeling both he and Wilbur caused in him, Dream was sure that they had shown him that very clearly before. He didn’t understand most of the fight between the four, he had been too busy trying to wrangle the chaos in his mind into either calming down, or plunging him into the void. Neither of the two scenarios had happened, but from the little he had understood through his breakdown it at least seemed like Techno and Phil had not agreed with Tommy. That should have been reassuring probably; if it had not caused them to bring up the memories that he had given away. And even though Tommy and Wilbur had both left, it was only a question of time until they would return and there was no guarantee that Phil and Techno would always be on his side. It was clear they still cared for Tommy, that he was family in a way that he, that Dream, was not. He didn’t know why he was here at all. There was no trace that he had any kind of relationship to them outside of the weird but positive Deja-vu he had when seeing Techno for the first time after waking up here. He did not have any prior feelings regarding them outside of that and he hadn’t worried about that until Tommy showed up. Now he was doubting everything and feeling misplaced and wrong. The worst part was the helplessness. He had no idea what to do if Phil and Techno decided he wasn’t worth it anymore. If they wanted him to leave. How would he even get back to the cell? He had no idea where it was. Maybe they would bring him there themselves? Somehow, he doubted that. Techno wasn’t fond of the cell, mildly spoken. But that didn’t change that it was the only place Dream had left. Where else would he go? He didn’t know anything or anywhere. The hem of Phil’s green robe comes into view. Ah. He zoned out again. Not that it was important to him, but both Phil and Techno didn’t like it when he was distracted and unresponsive. He tried to avoid it around them, since their dislike for it set off a quite unsettling feeling in his gut. However, sometimes he couldn’t help it. Another pair of footsteps follows, and Dream realizes that it must mean that Techno has returned from whatever trip he went on. But then another pair of feet steps into the room and Dream freezes in his tracks. It could not be Tommy, right? It hadn’t been that long since he’d been here. What if he had never left? What if he got angry again? What if he had convinced Phil and Techno of his opinion and they came to get rid of him? His vision swims as his heart rate picks up. His breath is getting thinner and he could swear that the floor is tipping over, when the person belonging to the unfamiliar pair of shoes is squatting down. His breathing stocks as his gaze zeroes in on the new person. The blonde hair is the first thing he notices, fear crawling up his throat before his view dips and the face comes into view. Blue eyes and blond hair just like Tommy, but it’s missing the curls and the overwhelming anger reflected in the eyes. No, this isn’t Tommy, this isn’t anyone that has visited before, and yet Dream can say with unwavering clarity that he has met this person before. Has met him before. And unlike with Tommy and Wilbur, where he had felt choked up in fear and terror at their sight, this one feels different. Not even the relief at their first meeting, not the Deja-Vu with Techno can compare to the feeling that floods him. It is like sunlight on his skin, it’s the security of a warm blanket and a bowl of his favourite soup, it’s like holding Patches and feeling her lick his face in gentle kisses. It’s an overwhelming sense of trust, of familiarity, of safety, and it’s not just a feeling, it’s a conviction. Even his inner guide rises up, reaching towards the stranger that isn’t all that strange, preening with joy at the sight. The new persons face is tinted in worry and nervousness, but all of that is overshadowed by the genuine relief and joy in his eyes. “Hey Dream.” He says, and his voice is gentle and apologetic and joyful all at once and Dream can’t help it. His eyes start leaking, and he sobs, overwhelmed with the situation. His body still feels like lead and he is so exhausted that he barely made the way to this corner, but all of that doesn’t matter when he throws himself towards him. He has no strength to catch himself but Dream doesn’t have to, because he does it automatically. His face buries into white, soft fabric as two strong arms wind around his torso and hold him so tightly he can almost forget how lost and broken apart he felt. His face sinks into Dreams hair and one hand comes up to hold his head as he whispers apology after apology into the wispy whitened hair. And Dream lets himself be held, because even with all the doubts that plagued him, everything within him unwaveringly knows that this person is as safe as the sun is warm. He lets himself be held, and he lets himself cry.     ***     Techno had been worried about how the interaction would go. Dream had already been doing badly after seeing Tommy and Wilbur, and he really did not want it to get worse. The only reason he went ahead with it was the fact that Punz seemed legitimately to be the only actual friend that Dream had left. Because as much respect for their skill as they had, and even with the 3 months in the prison, he and Dream were not quite “friends”. Friendly rivals seemed the most fitting label for their relationship. Seeing the way Dream had begun to freak out at first made him think it hadn’t been a good idea. The nerves had amplified and he was prepared to stop everything. What he had not been prepared for though had been the way Dream had pretty much launched himself at Punz and then proceed to bawl his eyes out. It was the most noise they have heard him make ever while he was awake. Dream quite literally melted into the embrace, face buried in Punz hoodie as he held him and experienced his own little breakdown. It was clear that Dream was more than fine with Punz being here, which convinced Techno that it was safe to give them a little privacy. He and Phil went to the kitchen, where he filled him in on everything that Punz had told him, while Phil gave a short recollection of the day. Dream still had not been doing well, but with his reaction to Punz, they started to feel a little more confident. When they checked in on them a good hour later, both of them had fallen asleep huddled up in the little corner, clutching at each other like a lifeline. They left the room quietly, leaving them to their well-deserved rest. It was precious, made Techno both hopeful for Dreams future, and a little wary of the past. While he and Phil had undoubtedly tried their best in helping Dream, there still had been mistakes that might have been avoidable. They tried hard to avoid some things in case they might set off a bad reaction, but in hindsight, Techno felt like there might have been a few things that they should have tried to do. Looking at the way Dream had clutched at Punz made him realize that they had never really… hugged him. To be fair, Techno was not really a touchy person, and neither was Phil, and they were dealing with a traumatized torture and isolation victim. The closest they got to “cuddling” were probably the few times they had sat on the leather couch together, Dream in their middle as Phil fixed his hair. Aside from that, there was not a lot of touch between them, outside of medical care or the physical therapy they had helped Dream with. It makes him feel a little foolish when he remembers how boneless Dream got when Phil took his time to wash and braid his hair, and how he had enjoyed therapy once they got past the part of hurting. Was it something that he needed? That he had craved and they hadn’t realized to give it to him? On the other hand, was it just because of Punz? It worried Techno, but even trying to remember back to the DSMP days didn’t help him. Because yes, he remembers Dream hanging off his friends and vice versa back then, but he also remembers that Dream had not been that touchy with him. He did not like feeling so out of his depth. It felt like he was in the middle of battle and somehow overlooked a key step in his opponents attack pattern. It was uncomfortable, made him feel doubtful of his own perception. But at the same time he felt hesitant to ask Punz for clarification, worried to have missed something obvious. Luckily, for him, he did not have to ask.   *   When Punz emerges from the room a few hours later, with messy hair and sleep still clinging to his features, his whole energy had shifted. Where he had arrived tense and worried, there is now a lightness and ease to his step. Sleeping on the floor, wedged into a small corner could not have been comfortable and yet he looks rested and refreshed. “Hey mate!” Phil calls quietly from where he is sitting at the dinner table, a cup of tea steaming in front of him. “Sleep well?” he teases good-naturedly, and Punz smiles easily in return. “Best sleep I’ve had in 13 years. He’s always been touchy, but I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” He plops down into the chair across from Phil, leaning heavily into the backrest. He is about to ask where Techno went, when the latter sets a cup down in front of him as well with a muffled “Here.” It is tea, hot and aromatic, and now that he concentrates on it, he notices how his stomach grumbles in hopes for food. He prepares to reach into his inventory to pull out a golden apple, but Phil is faster. “We have some rabbit stew and fresh bread if you’d like?” he offers, and gestures to the kitchen, where a basket of bread sits next to the stove with a simmering pot. Of course he doesn’t say no, a warm meal infinitely more inviting than his travel food. Quickly, a wooden bowl filled to the brim with savoury, thick stew is served. The bread is perfectly soft on the inside with a nice crunch to the crust. The first spoonful is like heaven, and finally, a knot starts to unravel in Punz’s chest. He found Dream, Dream is okay as he can be within his circumstances, and he has a warm meal to enjoy with people he can safely label as allies. For the first time in years, he genuinely feels like things will be okay.   *   “How is Dream?” Phil asks once Punz has is on the last spoonful’s of the bowl. Punz chews carefully, before swallowing to reply. “Good, I think.” He picks up the cup of tea to wash the bite down. “I put him into the bed before leaving. He seemed exhausted.” “I can imagine.” Phil hums thoughtfully. “All that crying must have tired him out after these last few days.” “Right.” Punz agrees, and sets his spoon down. “Now that I’ve seen him and we have a little time, I’d like to hear more about how he’s been doing.” He looks down at the cup of tea. “I really want to avoid doing anything that could set him on edge or hurt him.” He stops for a moment, before continuing, “I think he’s been hurt enough.”     ***     When Dream wakes up, it is to a soft bed and warm covers. For a moment, he just floats in the comfortable haze, blissfully unaware of everything that hurts him. Slowly, the events of the past days trickle into his mind, but the apathy is staying out for a bit longer than before. He doesn’t question waking up in the bed, even though he had spent the majority of his time on the floor in the corner. Probably either Phil or Techno had picked him up and put him to bed. He feels well rested and his mind is clear, despite the heaviness to his limbs. Opening his eyes is not as hard as it had been, and the room is awash in gentle light. The darkness must have passed only recently. There is a peculiar scent in the air, herbal and fragrant. He moves his head to the side, wondering whether Phil or Techno showed up with another soup to insist he eat, when he stops in his motion. Next to his bed sits a person in the chair usually reserved for when Techno or Phil decided to spend some time with him in the room. He has light blond hair, and wears a bright white hoodie, holding a steaming cup in his hands. Almost immediately, he remembers what happened before he had woken up in the bed. Techno and Phil had brought the stranger with them, but the stranger wasn’t a stranger, in the same way Techno hadn’t been a stranger when he first saw him. Just like before, his inner guide preens at the sight, like Patches would in the warm sunlight after he shared his soup with her. He doesn’t remember the person, but he knows him. There is no doubt there. But this time it was so unlike the light feeling of relief and familiarity he had with Techno. It was so much more intense, just like the fear he had felt with Tommy.  Even now, the feeling was just as intense as it had been the first time. It felt right and comfortable, to see him sitting there, next to his bed on a chair. It made sense, it was familiar and safe.  The sheer, overwhelming relief at that made his eyes water. He wants to reach out to him, to submerge himself in the relief that comes with his presence. Like he read his mind, the person sits up, and puts the cup down before he gently extends his arm to him, the hand open and inviting. It is not far by any means, but his arm still aches as he reaches to take it. His hand ends up flopped just on top, the bandages almost as pristine as the sleeves of his hoodie. The hand is warm from the cup, even through the layers of the bandage. He holds Dreams hands carefully; and this too, feels comfortable and safe. “Hi.” His voice is calm, with only the faintest waver, and Dream remembers how he had cried with him and he feels so, so safe. “My name is Punz. We are friends. I looked for you for a long time. I’m very glad I finally found you. I missed you.” He speaks slowly, words picked carefully and pronounced clearly. Dream understands every word. He doesn’t do anything to stop the tears from falling.     ***     “…And you think summoning XD will help figure out what happened to Dreams memory?” Punz asks, while his eyes wander over the pages of the book that Techno had shown him. Blood splatters over the pages and in rough lines a few words are spelled. His eyes linger on the ‘Mercy’, and his stomach knots in anger and worry. “Well, summon is quite optimistic, considering I don’t have the revival book. But the god is somehow connected to it. At the very least, they might be able to answer a few questions, give us a new lead.” Techno explains. “Dream wouldn’t have mentioned the name if it wasn’t important. And since it is kind of impossible to bring the topic up without him freaking out, we’re kind of left with XD.” “Do we know why he was scared?” Punz questions, looking at Techno and Phil, but both are answerless. “All we have are guesses.” Techno says, while Phil shrugs helplessly. “It might be because of Tommy’s presence, or it was just amplified through the trauma that was triggered with the fighting and everything.” “It’s difficult.” Techno says, getting up from his chair to pace the room. “According to the messages he had sent while in the prison, he had started to forget only a year or so from the disaster. And while at first he seemed to try and fight against it, he just gave up at one point. That’s all we have in regards to the cause of his amnesia.” “Which-” he stops pacing, “-would mean that the amnesia was caused through the circumstance, and not a disorder or dysfunction of the brain. Which means that we should be able to reverse it. However…“ he starts moving again “that doesn’t explain why he seems so afraid of the topic.” “Maybe it’s subconscious?” Phil theorizes. “Maybe his brain tries to supress the memories because of the trauma. But wouldn’t it be better to confront it then, to avoid further breakdowns?” “Hmm…” Punz hums, as he leans back in his chair. “What if he is scared of remembering itself? According to what you told me he seemed fine until Tommy showed up and got very upset. What if he is scared that remembering will cause something bad to happen to him?” He looks at the book, at the MERCY and the NO MEMORY, tries to visualize what Techno had told them of that scene. “He had freaked out when you asked him if he remembered, right after you had defended him from Tommy, partially on the grounds that he doesn’t even remember.” “What if…” he stops for a moment to gather his thoughts, before he looks up at them. “What if he is afraid that he’ll be left behind if he remembers? That you’re going to leave him to Tommy, someone who obviously hates him?” “He was already battling abandonment issues before he got imprisoned. Where do you think all the “attachments are bad” stuff came from?” He elaborates at their silence, with a bitter, yet fond smile. “Dream is smart, but he is also a fucking idiot with a boatload of issues. I don’t think that prison and amnesia have magically cured him of either of these things.” “Besides….” He trails off, eyes wandering once again to the book. MERCY MERCY MERCY “That fear wouldn’t even be unreasonable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone he cared about left him because of Tommy.”     ***     It’s warm outside. For the first time, Dream feels like he might be able to sit in the grass without the warm cape Phil had given him. He still wears it, just in case. More than just providing him warmth, it makes him feel safe. Wrapping himself up in the fabric helps to shut out the world around him. He had been nervous sitting in the grass in front of the house. Even the slightest noise had him swivelling his head around in fear of Tommy returning. At least, until Punz had sat a little basket down in the grass before flopping down next to him. Soon after, Patches had slunk out of the treeline and made her way over to them. She climbed into Dreams lap quickly, and lapped at his face and hands with such ferocity that it startled a little laugh out of him. It seemed she had missed him enough to be twice as attentive as usual. She even let Dream introduce her to Punz, sniffing at his offered hand and tolerating a few pats without much fuss. After sharing a bit of steak with her, Punz quickly rose in her regard though. The cat was content to roll through the grass between them and play with their hands. Slowly, but surely, Dream forgot about his worry and relaxed. Whenever he pointed at something, Punz would name it and explain what it was, always in that calm and simple way. It was so easy to understand him, without the gruff drawl of Techno’s voice and his long, winding sentences full of complicated words, and the lilt and peculiar pronunciation of Phil’s. Punz had been very kind to him ever since that first meeting. He seemed to always be there, just a step behind him if not right by his side. He never pushed or asked for anything, instead content to just follow Dream’s lead. And throughout it all, through every interaction, that very same sense of familiarity stayed. Everything Punz did felt right, it made sense. It helped immensely to keep the insecurity and fear at bay that had taken hold of Dream after Tommy had shown up. He didn’t feel wrong in Punz’s company, didn’t feel like a place holder or as if he wasn’t supposed to be there. It felt right, comfortable even. Maybe it was also that the one time he had asked him about Tommy, Punz had scoffed and told him that he didn’t care about Tommy at all. That was another thing with Punz. He had given him the little screen that used to sit on his wrist back in the prison, and showed him how to use it. To Dreams surprise, although it involved writing in a way, his guide hadn’t balked at it at all. It had stayed completely calm and uninterested, and finally Dream had a way to communicate easier. Signing had been a little harder with now both of his hands damaged, so he gladly welcomed another alternative. Especially since he only needed his thumbs for it. He didn’t even need to show it to Punz, since he could just send it to his own device. Dream found himself being a lot more communicative after that. It was so much easier to ask questions now, no longer limited to signs that he had to memorize, and none of the pressure and worry that came with speaking or writing. He liked talking to Punz in this way. Punz also never asked for his memory, despite it being clear that he knew Dream. Instead, he just told him things, never expecting Dream to know or remember them. Of course, Dream avoided to bring up things that could lead back to his memory, but he still appreciated the possibility to hear of their friendship. It soothed his worries and reassured him of his place next to Punz. He belonged. He belonged. He was happy. He wanted Punz to stay forever.     ***     Bringing Punz here had been the best decision Techno had made in Dreams healing process. Dream had been pushed out of his depressive, apathetic start almost immediately after Punz’s arrival. Even when the initial excitement mellowed out, he still didn’t return to that sad, disinterested state. They had finally gotten to try communicating via his communicator, and it worked splendid. They still tried to avoid imperatives, and formulated their questions carefully, but overall it had made a big step forward while Dreams hands healed. Although Techno had been a little upset that he had not been able to help Dream as good as Punz somehow seemed to be able to, he was mostly happy with the progress. He also knew that it wasn’t a fair comparison. After all, Punz had been a close friend to Dream and knew him a lot better than Techno ever had. It was clear that it would be easier for him to connect to Dream. Besides, he was glad that he didn’t have to start cuddling with Dream. Putting his preferences for physical closeness aside, he would have been very worried of accidentally hurting Dream. Even after all the time with them, he was still quite frail and Techno was a huge, strong guy. He supposed he made a comfortable surface to cuddle up to, according to his experiences with Tommy and Wilbur, especially when they had been younger. But Dream had never initiated anything like that, so he can’t help but feel that it might have ended incredibly awkward. Thankfully, Punz seemed more than fine with taking over that part. It was not rare to find Dream leaned against him or both of them cuddled up in Dreams little corner. More often than not, they would be holding hands, Punz always careful of Dreams hurt ones. Phil had once asked about the state of their relationship, but Punz had just laughed and easily denied any interest in anything of the sorts. ‘Dream had always been like that’ he had said, ‘usually he spread his need for affection evenly across his friend group, but after everything I was kinda the only one left over. I didn’t used to be super touchy, but it had been easy to do it for Dream, and after all those years, it was even easier to return to it.’ “Not just for Dream, but also for me” he had added after a bit. “He’s my friend. I missed him a lot.” All in all, they had made much more progress in a week than in the last months combined. Techno even felt fully comfortable to make the trip to the Dream SMP to find XD, not worried about how Dream would be doing without him there. He was fully confident in the combined efforts of Phil and Punz to take care of Dream. Or well, that had been the plan, until Punz had told him that he would be coming with him. On that morning, Techno had done a final check of his things. It was mostly perfunctory, he had made sure he had everything he needed the night before, and it wasn’t as if he needed a lot of things. It was mostly routine, just something to give him peace of mind. He had just clasped his cape into place, when Punz had stepped into the entryway, storing a loaf of bread in his inventory. “Coming to say goodbye?” Techno had teased slightly, but Punz shook his head. “I’m coming with you.” He replied, and Techno stopped in surprise. “What? Why? What about Dream?” he asked in bewilderment, but Punz did not waver. “I have something you’ll need.” He explained, cryptically, not explaining anything at all. “Okay, I guess?” Techno agreed, a little hesitant, but Punz had proven to be trustworthy, and the finality in his eyes was convincing enough for now. After all, Phil was still here to take care of Dream.     ***     Tommy feels ridiculous. Although sneaking in through the backdoor shouldn’t, and truly wasn’t, new to him in any way, he couldn’t help the unease that sat in his stomach. It was stupid, ridiculously stupid. He had done so many dumb things in his life where he could have used even a spoonful of apprehension, but this was the moment his conscience decided to speak up? He couldn’t even quite pin down where the feeling came from, but that was nothing new. Ever since his talk with XD, the PRIME GOD, just as a reminder, he has been in a constant state of confusion. It felt like the god had taken everything he knew and tipped it over with their absurdly large and spooky unattached hands. It’s been days since the talk, and he still hadn’t been able to settle his thoughts. He had crashed at Tubbos for most of that time, hoping that his and Ranboos mushy relationship balance would maybe somehow inspire some enlightening in him. But even with all their silent eye-to-eye conversations and their harmony and their healthy, mature life in marital bliss he hadn’t felt a solution approach. He spent most of his time playing with Michael instead, feeling a little more at ease drawing crayon scribbles on paper instead of confronting his inner turmoil. But that only worked for so long before Tubbo kicked him out for “moping” and told him to fix his shit. As appalling as it was, Tommy agreed. He wanted this to be over with, and the only person he could think of who might provide him with some clarity… was Phil. If he was being honest, he probably should also visit his Therapist again, but he still felt reluctant to return to a battle he thought he had already conquered. So Phil it was. He had been thinking of a place to meet up, when he had almost run into Techno near the spawn of the DSMP. Now, a less intelligent man might have confused Tommy’s wild dash up the tree with “panic”, but it was just a tactical retreat on his part. Even though there wasn’t really a reason for it, he felt hesitant to interact with Techno right now, which only solidified his resolve. He needed to talk to Phil and figure this entire thing out. Which presented him with a new issue he previously had not put into consideration: XDs request. “Do not search for him, do not hunt him down.” Fucking easy to say for a god that had not considered that Tommy already knows very clearly, where Dream resided and that that place was the house of TOMMY’S FAMILY. What did the god expect, for Tommy to stay away from his family infinitely just because they decided to play nurse for his arch nemesis? Okay, he had not visited them in a year, but that had been due to circumstances out of the ordinary. It is not as if he usually stayed away for weeks-, or well, months at a time. And it’s not like he is going out of his way to find Dream, it just happens that he really needs to talk to Phil. In person preferably. He would have asked him to meet up outside of the server, but since apparently Techno was on the Dream SMP of all places, Tommy bet that Phil was busy babysitting Dream. And Tommy really didn’t feel like waiting until Techno came back just so he could talk to Phil. He needed Phil’s help now, not in a week. (He is exaggerating, there is no way Techno would stay away from his weird, guilt motivated babysitting job for a whole week. Tommy knows him too well for that.) Still. Tommy does not listen to anyone, not even god. He does send a message to Phil announcing his arrival though. He is not a complete idiot. Although he cannot help but feel like one, crouched in the bushes behind Phil’s house as he rifles through his inventory for something to use as a lock pick. Just because he didn’t want to take the front door, in case he runs into Dream again.     ***     “Wow!” Punz exclaims, marvelling at the architecture of the Syndicates hideout. Techno can’t help but feel pride at the compliment, still happy with the results of their hard work. Their meeting room and the surrounding area had taken months of secret construction, but it had been worth it. “And this has been here the entire time?” Punz asks, walking along the high walls and lava curtains. “Nobody even knew of the existence?” “Well” Techno drawls, “We didn’t quite get to be active enough as a group to become known enough that someone would have tried to find our hideout. I had planned to ask them for help for the prison break, but it never came to that.” The mood sombers slightly, as he finishes his explanation, and Punz returns back to his side. “Anyways!” Techno exclaims, and approaches the large table in the middle of the room. “It’s a goddamn shame” he says a little sadly, as his hands smooth over the surface of it. “All the trouble we went through for this.” He takes a step back. “But alas, this is the only way to get in contact with XD without the revival book.” And with these words, he pulls out his axe in one smooth movement. He builds momentum, and in one powerful swing, the metal embeds in the wooden centre of the table. Or it would have, had Punz not surprised him for the second time that day. “This is how you treat the table you begged me for?” a familiar voice calls, and a floating hand catches the axes blade before it makes impact. It dissolves immediately, and Techno whirls around, to find the god behind him, large form dissipating as it morphs into a smaller, more accommodating form. Punz stands close to a lava curtain, an ender chest at his feet, and seemingly not the least bit surprised by the progression of events. “How?” Technoblade asks, but the god interjects before Punz can answer. “It seems Dream wasn’t the only one with the revival book.”     ***     Things had been going well. Dream had made a great recovery considering the state he had been in after the fight with Tommy. Phil was truly grateful for Punz’s presence and help. He couldn’t imagine that they would have been able to help Dream as quickly and efficiently without him here. Dream had flourished under Punz’s care. He almost seemed reborn, brighter than before. He was more active and seemed more aware as well, and with the use of his communicator, he was more communicative than ever. He hadn’t been ecstatic when Punz had to leave with Techno, but he had taken it in stride, even if he has been sulking by the window ever since then. Phil had never expected to be so delighted about someone moping, but it was such a refreshing change to his apathetic state that he found himself not caring at all. It also showed a nice step forward in regards to the scars that the prison trauma had left behind. They’ve been making progress. It was such a change in such short time, it felt like the fight with Tommy had never happened. It was almost too good to be true. Of course, this was when things had to go wrong. Again.     ***     Punz had left him, but only for a bit. He had promised to be back soon, and he had explained that he could use his communicator to speak to him even when he wasn’t there. Dream trusted Punz, so he wasn’t too upset about staying alone for a while. He had stayed alone for much longer before, and yet it felt different this time. It wasn’t as if he was struggling on his own, or as if he was completely alone, since Phil was still here. And yet he couldn’t help but look forward to Punz’s return. The outside didn’t look quite as inviting as it did when he was alone. Despite the sun shining warmly through the window he sat in front on, he couldn’t will himself to leave the safety of the house. He didn’t go outside on his own anymore. He could never help the worry that ate away at him and kept him on look out. Approaching steps set him alert, and he needed to be in view of  the path ways at all times. He just didn’t feel safe anymore. With Punz there, he didn’t have to worry about any other unexpected guests. He could trust him to keep him safe without a doubt. But Punz wasn’t here, so he stayed inside. By the window. Phil was making soup, and Dream was actually looking forward to it. Recently, Punz had explained to him what “hunger” was, and why they always ate things. He had been completely flabbergasted at the knowledge. Who could have expected such a thing? It had taken a bit for him to draw the parallels, but now he understood why that one specific darkness had never come back after the prison. Turns out that the pain could be kept away just by eating soup! The darkness never had to come save him if the soup was protecting him already. Ever since then, he didn’t protest the soup they brought him. He still wasn’t fond of the other foods they’d have him try. Most were too hard to eat, all the chewing was bothersome. He kept biting on his cheek and even his tongue. He didn’t like it, even if some of them smelled very nice. He preferred the soups, even if they had bits to chew in them. Usually they were soft enough to eat easily anyway. Once, they had offered him something called “steak” but the smell alone had him gag. For some reason, the distinct scent of the charred meat sent chills down his spine. They hadn’t offered it again, and he was glad for it. A familiar, delicious smell wafted towards him. Phil was stirring the pot carefully, while he read something on his communicator. His face was drawn tight, and he let go of the spoon to hurriedly tap away at the screen. Whatever was going on seemed to seemed to worry him, but no ping arrived on Dreams own communicator, so he decided not to worry about it too much. Punz had promised he would be fine, so he tried to worry a little less. He wondered what soup Phil was making today, when a sudden sound from the back door distracted him. He perked up in excitement, was it Techno and Punz already? They had promised to be back soon, but he hadn’t realized it was this quick! Sure, it had felt like forever, but now it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Phil stop and drop the spoon and hurry to the door with a curse. It’s a little silly, he thinks. Techno doesn’t need Phil to open the door, he has his own keys. Dream idly wonders for one moment, why they would use the backdoor instead of the front one. He would have waited over there had he known, and wouldn’t have to struggle getting there in his excitement. The wonder doesn’t last however. Because even with Phil and his large wings in the way, it is impossible to hide who steps through the backdoor when it swings open. Blonde, messy curls appear over Phil’s shoulder as the person steps inside, despite Phil’s protests. The boisterous, but subdued greeting is cut short as Tommy’s gaze wanders into the room and meets Dreams eyes. For one moment the world stands still. And then…       It crashes.     ***     This time, there is no slow adjustment, no underlying unease that gradually grows. No, this time, the panic slams into him in full force, sending him to the floor in a frenzied tumble. Tommy is back. Tommy is back. Tommy is back. He is here, in the house, and he is alone. Punz isn’t here, he realizes with a start. Punz isn’t here, but Tommy is. His throat tightens. Phil turned around at the commotion, leaving Tommy in full view. He’s tall, taller than Phil, but from Dream’s position both of their figures loom over him like a monument of danger. For a moment, it feels like their shadows are threatening to engulf him, whispering a dark promise of all his fears into his ears. It’s not their shadows however, but black spots that are flimmering in his view, and he can’t seem to focus, everything swims and swims and he can’t, he- He can’t breathe. Distantly, he notices someone coming towards him, but he is incapable of reacting as his chest tightens more and more with every moment. He can’t breathe. His throat is closed and his chest hurts, he needs to breathe but everything hurts and he can’t do anything. He tries to move away from the person approaching him, but he can’t get up by himself and nothing is in reach. The black gets worse, and then there is a hand on him and he recoils with lightning speed and slams into something. It hurts, but the impact shocks him enough to draw in a startled breath and suddenly, there is air inside him again. He gasps for more, his head swimming and every breath hurting but he breathes, he breathes, he is alive. Now more aware, he realizes the person crouched in front of him is Phil. One of his hands still hovers, slightly outstretched from where he had tried to touch Dream. Tommy still stands behind the door, a slightly uncomfortable, yet thoughtful expression on his face. He hasn’t moved further into the room, which Dream appreciated, but he was more concerned that he was here, more importantly, still here. Why? What did he want? Did he decide to finish the job? Phil moves into his field of view, and finally Dream remembers to focus on what he says. “-mmy I think you need to leave.” His voice is apologetic, but firm. It surprises Dream, but it eases the knot in his chest. The tiniest, lightest flame of hope starts flickering within him. Maybe there is a space for him here, maybe he had been wrong, maybe it was safe to trust Phil and Techno. “What? NO!” Tommy protests from where he had stayed, and he takes a step further into the room. Dream flinches back like he had been struck. “Listen, Phil, I’m not here for Dream, well, it is kinda about him but I want to talk to you, not him. I need to talk to you. You were the ones that told me to move on and find closure but it wasn’t that easy and everything is all a mess. I need your help, Phil to make things make sense again.” His voice has turned pleading, and Dream looks back to Phil. “Not like this.” He refuses, and the hope in Dream grows, flickering warmly in his chest. “Please, Phil.” Tommy pleads insistently. “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. Prime, God itself told me to stay away but I really need your help, Phil. I talked to God, I talked to XD, Phil. Fuck” Dream freezes up at the mention of XD. Cold fear drags up his throat and he looks at Phil in a dizzying mixture of apprehension, of fear and hope and despair. He doesn’t dare to expect, but he wishes fervently for him to refuse again, hopes for it, but Phil hesitates. He thinks for a long moment, mulling over the things said. Then, he resignates, crumbling like a piece of bread in soup. “Fine. I’m taking Dream to the room first. I don’t want a repeat of last time.” He sighs wearily, and the floor vanishes under Dream as he falls. Phil gets up, and gestures to the table, to the chair that bears Tommy’s signature. “Take a seat, I will be right back.” And the flicker of hope is snuffed out. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to move his body, much less protest, when Phil picks him up and carries him away. He doesn’t hear a single word that Phil speaks to him, everything drowned out by the chaos in his head. Tommy is here. Phil didn’t send him away. Tommy scares him, Tommy hates him, but he is still here. Is allowed here. Is welcomed here. Is in Tommy’s chair. Not Dreams chair. Tommy’s chair. There is no chair that is Dreams. There is nothing that is his. This isn’t his home. He doesn’t belong. The pictures of Tommy on the wall. The traces he left all over the house, even when he isn’t here. There are no traces of Dream, because Dream doesn’t own anything. He doesn’t even realize that he has been sat on the bed until the door clicks shut behind Phil, and Dreams head snaps up. Takes in the room he is in, has been in for a long time now. There isn’t much. There is the bed he sleeps in, there is a small table next to it and a chair, a chest at the end of the room. A window. On the chest sits a small basket with fabric scraps and bandages. On the table, a few of Techno’s books. A mug left behind by someone. Nothing alludes to the fact that Dream specifically has been staying here. The only signs of his presence are the cape and old hat that hangs on a hook by the window, and even those could easily belong to someone else. They do, in fact. Phil had made them from his own things. Despite Dream being the one that slept and stayed in this room, there were more things that pointed at Techno and Phil than at him. He didn’t belong. He was wrong here. He shouldn’t have hoped for something that wasn’t his, something he would never be granted. Somewhere, deep within him, the realisation slowly, painfully slots into place. As if it was a truth he had known long before, he concedes his not-his-place to the rightful owner. He slips off the bed and makes his way to the window. An eerie, serene silence has settled within him as he carefully takes step after step towards the window. It opens easily for him, despite the tremble in his bad hand. He drags the chair towards it and uses it to climb onto it. Although the motions are janky and clumsy, he instinctively knows where to reach and what to grab. The fall is short, the impact shorter. Pain twinges up his right ankle, but it ebbs away soon enough. He doesn’t turn around as he heads for the forest. Although he knows he is making the right decision, he knows looking back won’t make it easier.  As he approaches the edge of the forest, Patches slips through the treeline and excitedly makes her way towards him. She winds through his legs only for a moment, noticing the slight sway in his steps. As if she understands, she walks back to the trees, before stopping and looking back. Dream follows.     ***     Of course this had to happen when Techno and Punz were gone. Phil sighs. At least this time around he knows not to let Dream in the same room with Tommy, unlike they had done last time. Although that might not yield any better results. Dream is already shaken enough just by Tommy’s appearance, well on his way into another meltdown. Phil just hopes that Punz can pull Dream out of it like last time. Dream doesn’t resist or struggle when he picks him up to bring him to his room. Phil isn’t sure if he prefers this to a full on tantrum. There is something so disheartening to settle an unresponsive and shaken Dream into his bed and then just… leave him there. Even if it is easier than having to calm him down or restrain him to stop him from hurting himself. He doesn’t like it when all the life bleeds out of Dream like that. But he is alone right now, and there is no one to help him with this, so he swallows down the unease and deals with it. Besides, it’s only for a bit. Techno and Punz will be back soon. And Tommy had said something about XD. He might have valuable information. And he didn’t even react badly to Dream this time. So maybe they were making more progress than expected. He walks back down the stairs and heads to the sitting area. Surprisingly, Tommy isn’t seated at the table though, and instead stands in the kitchen, surrounded by plumes of smoke, trying and failing to open the window. Ah. Right. The soup. With a curse, Phil dashes for the oven to pull the pot of the stove and dunks it in the metal sink. Then, he helps Tommy with the windows to clear the air of the smoke and biting smell of burnt food. Looking at the charred remains at the bottom of the pot, once the wasted soup had been poured out, Phil decides that his lunch plans are thoroughly ruined. He has no further produce or other ingredients in the house, the soup had been intended to use up the leftovers before he filled up their storage with fresh produce later that afternoon. Thankfully, they have had a good breakfast not too long ago, so Dream won’t go hungry for a while longer. Although Phil isn’t sure if Dream would have even be able to eat right now anyways. So instead of sitting down at the table with Tommy to discuss his troubles, they both head out to the gardens to stock up the storage while they talk. They talk for a long time while they work. Soon, the sun starts to go down, and they head back inside to finally prepare dinner. Storing away the new produce takes time, as does cleaning, preparing and cooking. By the time dinner is finished, night has already fallen. Phil offers Tommy to stay for dinner before leaving, and Tommy accepts gratefully. When Phil takes a bowl of soup up for Dream, he prepares himself to take it back down in case Dream has gone fully apathetic again. But he still hopes that maybe Dream will eat something anyways. He had been very diligent in eating his meals lately, even if he was still obviously picky in food choices. He knocks on the door, just to announce his arrival before he steps in, eyes focused on the bowl as to not spill anything. He is in the middle of describing the soup when he has sat it down securely on the table next to the bed, when he looks up at Dream. But the bed is empty. And even before he checks the corner to see if Dream has just hidden himself away again, an uneasy, tight feeling rises in his gut. The corner is empty. The window is open. He doesn’t call for Dream. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t search the house. All that comes later. He reaches for his communicator instead.     ***     He doesn’t know how long he has been walking. He knows he left around midday, when the sun had been high in the sky and lent warmth even through the thick roof of leaves above him. He had walked, following patches at a steady pace, fuelled by the immense need to get away. He couldn’t stay, so all that was left was to leave. Although his mind was in turmoil, and unease was rolling off his inner guide in waves, the persistent ache in his foot kept him in the present. With every step, a little twinge zips through his leg, keeping him focused and unable to drift off. He couldn’t afford to have a “meltdown”, so he pushed Tommy’s words far, far away, and continued on the path that Patches presented him. As the light had started to dim and the sun prepared to disappear, Patches had led him to a little cave, carved out of a rocky cliff and with a vine covered entrance hidden from sight through bushes and trees. A rest was dire needed, so Dream didn’t even try to keep going instead. His leg was hurting in a steady pulse, but even aside from that his body was aching. His breath had been evading him for a bit now, and his skin was clam with sweat, even if the forest had cooled down considerably. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep before the sun had even reached the horizon. Even though he had slept on a soft bed for so long now, it wasn’t hard in the slightest to fall asleep on the hard stone floor. The cold was much worse than the hardness of the floor, but Patches had curled up next to him and warmed him until the shivering had subsided. Still, it had been dark outside when he awoke. For a moment he didn’t realize what had disturbed his rest. Sleep was still clinging to him, and it took a bit to reorient himself and remember what had happened. The floor was hard, and he was freezing. His stomach pulled in an old familiar, but not recent sensation. His body ached. The sky grumbled in the distance. It was Patches hissing, that pulled him to awareness. The cat stood in between him and the opening of the cave. It was hard to see in the dark, but hidden in the green of the plants that guarded the entrance was… something. A being, almost as tall as him blended almost perfectly into the greenery around them. It seemed distracted by the cat, watching it warily. Dream sat up to get a better look, unease slowly building inside him. However his movement alerted the creature, and although it was dark, Dream realized that its attention shifted to him. A soft hissing sounded, and it took him only a second to understand that it wasn’t Patches who made that sound. The creature emitted a slight, pulsating glow as it tried to advance, but Patches hissed loudly, calling attention towards her again, and it backed off slightly again. Dream was at a loss. He didn’t know what that thing was, and yet it caused a deeply unsettling feeling within him. Much more than just a general sense of danger, he felt a deep apprehension, a fear almost of not complying, of setting it off. His limbs felt like lead, and jittering anxiety washed at his mind. Something was familiar about this. Something that made him distinctly aware of his position, and the wrongness of it. Like lava, his limbs burned, telling him to move, to get in the correct position or else. ‘on your knees on your knees on your knees’ his guide called, and ‘head down, head down, don’t look, don’t look, don’t speak unless spoken to’. He didn’t understand, but he also couldn’t tear his eyes away from the creature. It didn’t leave, despite Patches best efforts, and Dream didn’t know what to do. His mind told him to move and look away, but he couldn’t help but feel like staying still and keeping watch was the correct answer. He didn’t get to ponder his decision for long.   *   The time between a flash of lightning and the thunder can determine how far away the storm is. In this case, the thunder only took 4seconds. And yet, many things happened within these few moments. Lightning flashes outside, and illuminates the beasts features.   One. Dream flinches back in horror.   Two. The beast lunges.   Three. Patches cries out.   Four. Thunder strikes, and with it, an explosion.     ***     Phil: Come back immediately. Phil: Dream is gone   When the message had flashed on Techno’s screen, it felt like all of the lava in the room had been drained and replaced by ice instead. “Punz.” His voice had been tight, worry strangling his vocal chords as the voices has exploded into a cacophony of chaos. Punz had looked at him, and understood immediately. Gracefully, XD had come to their aid and led them into a server jump without the need to head back to the spawn or the server hub. They had been able to make it back in record time, but they still missed Phil who had already headed out to search. For good reasons too, as night had already fallen, and thunderclouds rolled across the sky. They didn’t need to meet up to make a plan. It was simple: Swarm out, find Dream before something else does. They didn’t bother staying together, instead taking off in different directions to cover more ground. Phil had already went into the forest, but behind the house was only the mountain, where Dream couldn’t have gone, and in front endless grassland stretched out. Punz took to the Grassland, intending to use his trident once the rain fell to search more quickly, while Techno took to the vast forest as well. It was a run against the clock, and they couldn’t afford any delaying.       ***     The night is dark. Huge, grey clouds have pulled themselves in front of the moon, like dark velvet curtains. Even the stars seem to have vanished under the force of the storm. The only source of light comes in the form of lightning flashes as thunder rolls threateningly. Dream is running. His heart is beating out of his chest and his lungs constrict but he doesn’t slow down. All around him, he can hear scattering footsteps, chattering and whispering and hissing. Eyes flash in the dark wherever he looks. In his arms, clutched to his chest, he holds patches. He can feel her little claws dig into his skin, but he pays it no mind. Her fur is singed much like his clothes, and she meows weakly, in between licks to his exposed skin. There are tears running down his face, but it makes no difference. At some point, rain had set in, and his body is already soaked to the bone. He doesn’t mind the wetness, it washes the blood off his skin, but it makes the ground slippery and so much harder to traverse on top of his already injured leg. But he keeps on. He cannot afford to slow down. An arrow whizzes past him and embeds itself into a tree trunk with enough force for some of the bark to splinter off. It startles him, almost more than the face of the green creature had. Impossibly, his urgency rises and he leaves the path to run through the thicket in hopes of shaking them off. He has nothing to defend himself with, but there is this quiet, insane part of his mind that believes he can outrun them. Even injured and defenceless, it whispers of his success as long as he keeps running. He does. Until the forest lightens, and the end of it is in sight. He doesn’t know what comes after, but it feels like hope. He makes it to the edge of the forest, stumbling past the treeline, and out of it into a field of grass. The ground is gently sloped, tapering off from the higher situated forest. A body of water sits at the bottom of the incline, a wide, winding stream separating the grass land from a mushroom biome. Dream picks up speed, sure that if he can make it across the stream they will be safe. Outside of the protective canopy of the trees, the rain hits even heavier, and the grass is wet and slippery. Although more beasts hide in the woods, out here in the open he poses an easier target. Another arrow whizzes past, followed my two more in short succession. He throws a short glance back, and sees three skeletal beings in his pursuit. Dread pulls tight around his throat and he tries to speed up, but his foot gets caught on a rock and he falls forward. He barely catches himself on his knees and his bad hand, the other one still cradled securely around the cat. Blinding pain shoots through his arm, and a sob tumbles past his lips. An arrow buries itself into the ground right in front of him, so he gets up as fast as he can, despite the pain throbbing in his limbs. He lost valuable time, so he doesn’t try to look back again, instead trying to gain ground again. But it is to no avail. This world is unfamiliar to him, and it doesn’t love him the way his one had. It doesn’t grant him mercy, and it doesn’t come to his aid. Luck isn’t an endless resource and his has run out. An arrow finds its mark. It pierces his shoulder, chipped, but wickedly sharp bone digging into muscle and flesh, unhindered by the cloth that had long burned away. An anguished cry leaves Dreams lips, but he keeps on running. The view sways, but he is honed in on his goal. It’s not much further, just a bit more, just across the slight incline ahead and he’ll reach the bottom of the hill, and with it, the water. Unable to see from his position, a ravine snakes its way through the grassy hillside. It’s not large, not wide in any way. Had he known of its existence, or had he been able to see it before, he could have made it across in a daring, but by no means impossible jump. Even in his current condition he could have made it. But luck is no longer on his side. Another arrow hits. It digs into his calf, and this time, he cannot fight back the fall. He crashes to the ground, momentum carrying him forwards, over the slight incline and then-   down.   He plummets into the ravine, unable to do anything but clutch Patches to his chest to protect her from the impact that surely awaits them at the bottom. But he never reaches it. He hits a protruding rock, and it slows his momentum enough that his fall is broken by vines and remnants of a mine track that once bridged two mine tunnels on each sides of the ravine. His body comes to a standstill in a bloodied, broken heap, balanced precariously on old, brittle wood and splintered metal over a drop of dozens of chunks. With the last of his strength, he raises the arm that carries the attached communicator to the hand that has protected patches from the fall. He barely manages to type just a few letters, before black falls over his eyes and his hand drops limply to the side. If it was Luck or Mercy who bestowed him one last favour is unclear, but his arm falls just right for a piece of metal to hit the small send button on the side of the device. Unfortunately, when Dream had selected the recipient of the message, in his agony, he hadn’t picked Punz as it had been intended, but the next entry on the list of priority contacts. Dream (whispers to Sapnap): hhel p Outside, the storm rages on until the night overcomes its darkest hours and turns to dawn. Once the sun rises, the last storm clouds will slowly disperse, and with it the mobs. But until then, the darkness rules. The mobs slowly grow disinterested at the disappearance of their prey and return to the cover of the forest. Silence settles over the meadow like a heavy blanket, broken only by the distant, anguished yowls of a cat.     ***     Barely half an hour into their search rain had started to come down. Now able to use his trident, Punz had made great progress on his search, but outside of stray mobs he had been unable to find anything. He tried his hardest to stay calm and level-headed, but inside, a storm was brewing that rivalled the one currently wreaking havoc on the server. There had been no progress, no sign of Dream until multiple hours into the search. Phil had sent coordinates from the forest. Apparently he had found a creeper hole, which by itself wasn’t anything special, but it had been on the entrance of a cave. Inside the cave, protected from the rainfall, a bloody handprint was left behind, as well as singed scraps of the clothes that Dream had been wearing. Unfortunately the rain had washed away any foot prints or blood trails, but Dreams flight from the mobs had left other traces. Split and broken off twigs, disturbed ground and plants. The mobs on his trail had left more traces as well, the most noticeable ones the arrows stuck to trees and the ground. Now that they had finally found a lead, Punz abandoned the search of the grassland and hurtled towards the coordinates. He had gotten far enough out with his trident that he had to head back somewhat. Flying a half circle around the forest borders, Punz intended to check the surrounding areas of the direction Dream headed. Phil was following the track and Techno was making his way there, but the mobs that littered the forest slowed them down. There was no death message in the server logs, which meant that he was still alive and must have gotten away from the mobs somehow. And Punz intended to keep it that way. It wasn’t long until dawn now, and with it, the mobs would be gone and Dream would be safe. He just had to hold on a little longer. Just a little more. Suddenly, he spotted a mushroom biome up ahead. It was well within the area that Dream could have reached on his course from the forest, and mushroom biomes were notoriously clear of mobs. Had this been what saved Dream? He notified Phil and Techno, and headed for it. If Dream had made it here, he was safe. He just needed to find him now. Thankfully, the tall mushrooms didn’t obscure his flight too much, which allowed him to keep using the trident. He didn’t want to fly too high above, in fear of missing Dream under some of the wide mushroom caps. He searched diligently, but as dawn approached, he still hadn’t been able to find Dream, nor had Phil or Techno. He found himself back at the beginning of the mushroom biome, in a stretch of grassland. The rain was starting to let off, so his trident would soon be useless anyways, so he decided to head for the forest. Maybe he could work his way towards Phil and Techno and meet in the middle. However, when he made his way across the meadow, a group of skeleton took notice of him. Evading one or even two skeletons was no problem, even without a shield, but a group of them scattered across the area made it almost impossible. He couldn’t risk injury either, as he had a much more important mission at hand. Cursing at the time lost, he sprinted towards a little overhang in the hill to duck behind. Once he got to the forest he could hide behind the trees, but out here he was a free target. He just needed to get away from the skeletons, or wait until the sun came up. To his surprise, the overhang sheltered a fissure in the ground that led into a ravine underground. Carefully, he balanced beside it, as to not lose his balance and fall. Although he might be able to mine his way below the skeletons through the ravine, he didn’t want to be too hasty with his decision making. But as he crouched there with bated breath, calculating his next move, he noticed a peculiar sound. At first, he struggled to make sense of it. Quiet, distant cries, almost like a crying child if not for the animalistic of it. ‘Cat’ his mind supplied, ‘distressed. Probably fell into the ravine and can’t get out’. Now, it wasn’t like he hated animals. The opposite, he was quite fond of them. But he was also under a lot of stress, and trying to save Dream, so it wasn’t really like he had the time to save a cat right now. But then he remembered Dream playing with Patches, and how fond he was of cats in general. ‘It’s just so the crying won’t give my position away.’ He reasoned with himself as he carefully climbed down the ravine. ‘Going through the ravine is probably the quickest way to get to the forest anyways.’ Once he made it to a somewhat secure platform, he took a look around to orient himself and find the cat, as well as the most beneficial way to mine towards  the forest. He quickly realizes two things. One: that it wasn’t a ravine, but most likely an old mine that had been half unearthed by an earthquake. An old mineshaft opens up in one wall, leading towards the forest, perfect for his plan. And Two: his plan is useless and no longer important because right there, on the old tracks connecting the tunnel lies Dream, and with him the cat he had heard earlier. With shaking hands, he pulls up his communicator to send his coordinates to Phil and Techno, and then he bolts. Or at least, he tried to. The mine was in terrible condition due to the rupture, and everything was rather unstable. Agonizingly slow, he had to dig his way towards Dream, who was suspended on rickety railway tracks above a steep drop. As he gets closer, he notices that Dream is unconscious and in quite frankly horrific shape. His frame is bloodied and broken, the clothes ripped apart and burned. An arrow is sticking out from mangled leg. Fear freezes him in place, and he has to remind himself that Dream is alive, he’s alive, there was no death message (yet, he doesn’t say.). His chest is rising and falling almost imperceptibly, was it not for the cat curled up and held to his chest by his arm. She mews pitifully in between little licks to the exposed chest, likely exhausted after hours of calling for help. Her fur is singed and matted with blood, but still, Punz recognizes her. It’s Patches. His heart seizes and his voice comes out a little broken as he whispers praises to her, thanks her for protecting Dream. It’s a cat, just a cat, and yet he chokes up at the realisation that she has stuck with Dream, has protected him, has cared for him, simply out of love. There are no ulterior motives here, no lies, no deceit, no pretending. No guilt, no regret, no obligation or duty. Just trust and love, just care for Dream as a person. It’s this revelation that finally tips him over, and the tears begin to flow. It may be stupid to others, but for years, so many years Punz has been the only one that had thought of Dream fondly, with care and affection. Even back in the server, he had to lie and pretend, had to spend time surrounded by people that hated Dreams guts and he had never been able to speak up. He had to betray Dream for these people, and even if it had been staged, it had been real to all those people. It had bitten at him, to be known as the person that betrayed Dream, and not the one that had been loyal all this time. He just wanted to be able to be his friend everywhere, not just behind closed doors. He wanted to be able to smile and laugh with him, out in the open. He wanted to be able to defend him against others, to protect him. He wanted to be able to wear their friendship proudly, openly, wanted it to be known and recognizable as a part of him just like his signature white hoodie and gold chain. So he sits there and cries, for Dream who has been hurt and hurt again, who has spent years feeling unloved and forgotten. He cries for hours, days, months spent searching for any possible clue to find him, when he had been locked away right under his nose. He cries for Dream, who lies unreachable on fragile wood and metal, bloodied and broken, so near and yet so far. And he cries for the overwhelming relief of no longer being the only one to love and care for Dream unconditionally, even in danger. Outside, the sun finally rises. The mobs dissolve with unholy screeching and wails, as the morning light reaches them. Three people stumble out of the forest, ignoring the burning monster corpses that litter their way. They’ll get down into the ravine, and they’ll carefully construct a scaffold to hold up the railway bridge. Punz won’t be happy to see Tommy with them, but he’ll hold back, as long as they’ll get Dream to safety first. He won’t leave Dreams bedside until he wakes up. Neither does Patches. When Dream wakes up, he cries. And Punz makes a decision.     ***     “Let me take him with me.” It hadn’t really been a question, nor had it been an offer, and Techno knew that. Still, something in him wanted to refuse. Punz wouldn’t be able to take Dream by force, if Techno wanted to, he could very well just keep Dream here. ‘It’s for his safety’ his mind whispers, ‘we’re strong enough to keep him safe, nothing can hurt him here.’ But he just needs to look at Dreams battered, bruised body to know that it isn’t true. To know that it wouldn’t be fair. It doesn’t matter if he thought he could keep Dream safe from physical harm, if they had caused him enough mental pain that he hurt himself. Granted, it probably hadn’t been Dreams intention to get hurt when he had... run away. But wasn’t that the crux of the issue? Tommy’s appearance had stressed him out enough to have him run away and get severely hurt. And Tommy hadn’t even been hostile to him, nor would he be in the near future, as it seemed. And yet it didn’t seem to matter, as his mere presence caused severe distress for Dream. Of course, the obvious choice would be to just.... keep Tommy away. Punz had been advocating for that one quite clearly, adamantly refusing to let Tommy take a single step into Dreams room. “Get away from him!” Punz’s voice is fire, unrestrained in anger as he blocks the doorway from Tommy, who holds a tray of something. “Woah calm down man, I was literally just helpi-“ “I. Do. Not. Care. One step closer and you’ll be crying for help yourself.”Punz bites, cold fury dripping from every word as his hands itch for a weapon. Oh how much he hated Tommy, hated that he was able to hurt Dream even when he didn’t intend to. “I don’t want you near him, ever again. Don’t look for him, Don’t look at him. Don’t speak to him.” A short pause. “You have no right to be near him.”   And yet.... Techno didn’t want to deny Tommy and Wilbur entry to the server. They were family, not just to Phil but to him as well. Even if they didn’t live here, this place was home, was a safe haven for them. He didn’t want to take this from any of them. And Dream... he had barely been someone he could have called a friend, had they had more time. He was much more a friendly rival, someone who had helped him out. But that person didn’t even exist anymore. Although that had been partially his own fault, he couldn’t help but mourn the loss of something he hadn’t been able to achieve. Now that he knew that Dreams amnesia wasn’t randomly caused, but granted. Dream didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to go back. Techno couldn’t fault him for that, not after the torture he had endured. So he mourned silently, as he looked at Dream with different eyes. A broken, battered shell that housed a soul of incredible wit and talent, but it was chained away under trauma and pain. That rival that he had appreciated for his prowess would never return. Even if Dream remembered, his body was simply unable to hold up. This new Dream was skittish, albeit curious, and in all honesty, fragile. Keeping him here just to alleviate his guilt over his broken promise wasn’t fair, when he couldn’t even ensure that he wouldn’t run into what frightens him. He knows that he can’t have both. And yet, he is still reluctant to let go, feels the failure of his promise clawing at the edges of his mind. But Punz stands strong and doesn’t give up. After all, if anyone would understand Techno’s guilt, it is Punz.    “Don’t worry Technoblade. You part of the plan was just to get him out. You did that, even if it was delayed, and you even went beyond it. Now let me fulfil my part.” His voice is gentle, but firm. His decision is clear, and they both know it is the right one. “I’ve been waiting for a long while, Techno. I’ll take it from here.”   *   “You sure about this, mate?” Phil asks, leaned next to the doorframe as Punz and Dream walk down the pathway. Once Techno had agreed, Punz hadn’t wasted much time to prepare for their departure. Although there hadn’t been many things to pack in the first place. “It’s better for Dream. And for Tommy as well, probably. It would be selfish to keep him here just to alleviate my own guilt.” Techno mutters thoughtfully. The guilt still lingers, he knows it likely won’t ever leave fully. But he has come to terms that he has done what he could, and that he was no longer neither the safest, nor the best option for Dream. It had been evident simply in Dreams reaction to Punz’s offer. He didn’t need to speak to make the sheer relief and gratefulness evident. It couldn’t have been clearer, even if he had shouted it from the rooftops. It was what assured Techno of the rightness of his choice. And as they watch them leave, Techno bids a goodbye not just to this Dream, but to the old one as well. Once again, it is time to move on, but this time, he does it with a lighter heart, knowing he has done what he could and relieved of the uncertainty of Dreams wellbeing.     ***     Some time in the future   “Are you ready?” Punz asks, petting Patches who wanders over his workbench, and it truly is that, just a question. No worry, no distrust, no uncertainty. Just unhindered loyalty, ready to follow wherever Dream leads them. ‘Yes’ Dream signs, and breathes deeply as Punz leads them into a server jump. There is no need for any further explanations. They had worked towards this for a long time. Gone is the soul crushing fear, gone is the paranoia simply at the notion of it. What had settled in its place was longing. When they spawn, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings outside of a vague sense of familiarity. Soon, that will change, as he’ll once again be able to attach years of history to every place. He idly wonders if it’ll change how he views them now, and shakes his head at the naivety of the idea. In the end, it doesn’t quite matter anyway. Punz had told him everything he had asked for. He knew of the horrors that had happened here, all that he was missing was his own view of it. But that wasn’t why he was here, not really. Although Punz had never once pushed, not even asked or tried to trigger any of his old memories, Dream knew that there were years worth of experiences locked away inside his mind. Punz had always been courteous, and nothing but inexplicably loyal and supportive towards him. But Dream yearned to truly know their full story. He wants to understand where their bond had started, how it had developed, how it had been able to stay strong all these years. He wants to share their full history, in more than just tales he had memorized. He wanted to remember them. He wanted to remember. He was ready.     ***       The End

They decide to get married at The Tomlinson House, the place where it all began. Niall serves as best man for the both of them, and brags relentlessly that it was him who essentially brought the two of them together in the first place. He and Louis let him have his moment, especially since they’re jetting off half-way across the world again as soon as they say I do. Harry frets with the collar of his jacket where he’s standing at the top of the creaky staircase. He can hear the strings die down and then start up again with the song they chose for their processional march, and he’s never been more nervous about potentially falling down a flight of stairs. His mother takes his arm and gives it a light squeeze when she hears the cue of the music. She gives Louis’ mother a thumbs up where she’s waiting outside of her son’s door. She returns it, and then the two of them begin their slow descent. His knuckles are white from so much attention as they float through the sunroom. They make it to the altar and his mother leaves a kiss on his cheek before taking her seat with the rest of their friends and family. It’s nerve-wracking standing by himself, but he’s only alone for a little while before the music swells up again and Louis is walking towards him with his mother on his arm. He looks just as gorgeous as he did the night they met in this very room, wearing a smile that would also be identical if it weren’t for the way his eyes are shining. The attempt Harry had made to stay calm is forgotten when Louis’ mother kisses his cheek at the altar and leaves her son to stand beside him. Harry has been on the verge on tears all morning but he didn’t want to give Louis the satisfaction of him crying first, however he lets them fall when he sees that Louis has already forgotten his pride and is openly wiping at his eyes in front of all of these people. The ceremony gets less emotional as the minutes pass, and pretty soon all Harry can focus on is the part where he becomes Louis’ husband. Niall hands them the rings when they’re getting close. Harry’s heart feels like it’s in his throat when he slides the golden band onto Louis’ finger, a satisfaction like nothing else he’s ever felt in life when Louis beams up at him. Louis repeats the process and slides Harry’s wedding band onto his finger until it’s nestled against his grandfather’s ring. Harry doesn’t hear anything else going on in the room, but his ears perk up when Louis is asked to say ‘I do.’ He watches Louis’ mouth form the words, his eyes shining again as he waits for Harry to repeat them. The officiant reads off the list of promises that he’s swearing to keep and Harry rushes to agree, saying ‘I do’ so quickly that Louis and everyone else laughs. They have to listen to some other stuff that Harry couldn’t care less about at the moment, and then finally the moment comes. His heart has never felt so full and light all at once when Louis reaches for him and connects their lips. Their kiss is fueled by excitement and adrenaline, and Harry is certain that he’ll never feel happier than in this moment. * “You two don’t even need a honeymoon. You’re never in the country as it is,” Niall grumbles as he’s hugging them goodbye. Camille nudges him in the arm to shut him up. “He’s just jealous,” she laughs. “He’s been complaining about it for weeks.” Niall turns to her with a traitorous look. “I have not! I love the Caribbean,” he explains like his fondness for the islands will change their minds about letting him join. “I’m just saying you could’ve invited me along. Not for the honeymoon parts but just, you know, for moral support or whatever.” Harry smirks, pretty confident that he won’t need help or moral support from anybody to have a good honeymoon with his husband. Louis’ grin says the same thing when they lock eyes. “Well, we have a flight to catch,” Louis announces out of nowhere, waving to their guests that have come to the entryway to see them off for their island hopping adventure. Niall rolls his eyes. “It’s a private fucking plane. It leaves whenever you tell it to,” he says, leaning in to wrap them both in a final embrace.  “Goodbye. I love you both. Have fun. Get out.” They are all too happy to oblige as they practically run out the door with the promise to see them all in a couple of weeks. Niall was right when he said there was no rush, so they take their time getting to the airport. They’re only a little bit late from stopping off at Harry’s to change and get their suit cases. Now there’s nothing left to do, but sit back and enjoy the nine hour ride. “What exactly are you looking for?” Harry asks when Louis has yet to relax beside him. His determined hands have been riffling through both of their bags since take off. “The list,” he answers. “I know I packed it…I made sure of it.” His eyes light up when he produces a pen and the folded up list from a side pocket of his duffel. He reads through the list of items until he finds the one that he needs. “Marry the love of my life,” he reads as he draws a line through it. When he’s done he places his hands on either side of Harry’s face for kiss that’s a lot more heated than the one they shared at the altar.   Harry laughs when they break apart and Louis is still scanning the page. “Now what are you doing? You can’t mark off the Caribbean until after we’ve been there,” he reminds him. Louis shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I’m looking for...I’m looking for-Ha! Here it is!” he shouts when he finds it scribbled in between Niagara Falls and Moscow. Harry’s eyes grow wide looking down at the paper. “Now?” he asks, scandalized. “But- But they’ll know! The crew-” he tries, but he can tell Louis is already sold on the idea. “Oh come on, Haz! We’re the only passengers! If not now, then when?” Harry can’t believe the amount of determination in his eyes. “It’ll be so hot and so much fun! Please? Please? Please?!” He sighs, caving before Louis can break out the dreaded puppy eyes. “Fine,” he relents with a smile, “But I’m not going first.” That stipulation doesn’t deter Louis in the slightest. He rummages through their bags again until he finds a packet of lube. He slips it into his pocket before bravely making his way through the cabin and inside of the bathroom. He’s only gone for about thirty seconds before he pokes his head out of the door to beckon him with the worst line Harry has ever heard. “Hey, Haz… I don’t know how to work the sink… Come help me,” he calls out. Louis’ pathetic excuse doesn’t catch the attention of anybody except the lone stewardess near the front who kindly pretends like she didn’t hear. Unlike Louis, the thrill of getting caught makes him more nervous than anything when he stands to join him. His heart is hammering when he steps through the door and Louis is waiting for him with slick fingers and his joggers pooled at his feet. “Hurry up,” Louis orders him. Harry’s body responds immediately, his hands already working to shed his clothing before his mind has accepted that this is really happening. They make quick work of opening Louis up before he’s bending himself over the sink he claimed he didn’t know how to use and lets Harry enter him from behind. Harry has never worked so hard to be quiet in all of his life, which turns out to be a wasted effort when Louis comes in just a few minutes with a loud cry that gets amplified in the basin of the sink. Harry gets pulled over the edge as well, but he isn’t nearly as loud with the soft whine he bites into Louis’ skin. They stumble out of the bathroom one at a time even though there’s no way everyone didn’t just hear them. The stewardess is still hard at work smoothing out the same blanket she had been folding when Harry left, and again, he’s grateful for her false ignorance. Louis unfolds the list and relocates, ‘Join the Mile High Club.’ He makes Harry mark through it with an overly pleased smirk. “Thanks, love. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Harry fondly rolls his eyes. “Well technically you could’ve… you know,” Harry says in a low voice. “But, I’m glad I could help out.” “Wanks don’t count and aren’t nearly as much fun,” Louis says like the rules of the Mile High Club are common knowledge. “Go on Harry, admit it. It was hot and you liked it.” Harry can’t help his smile as he shakes his head at his ridiculous husband. He still can’t believe he gets to call him that. He still can’t believe he can’t say no to the idiot. “It was more than hot and I loved it… I’m also glad that you have the scary ability to talk me into doing anything you want.” “I know you are, love,” Louis kisses his jaw before returning the lube, list, and the pen to his bag. “And that’s exactly why I married you.” ----   Six Years Later Harry opens his eyes to bright sunshine and immediately closes them again. He’s just about to drift back off when Louis wrenches his arm away from his face. “Oh no you don’t!  Wake up!” Harry doesn’t fight it even though he’s exhausted. He and Louis were up most of the night from being too excited and wired to sleep. He has no idea how Louis is so bright eyed when he’s sure Louis got the least amount of sleep between the two of them. “Good morning.” Harry’s words turn into a big yawn as he rolls onto his back to properly wake up. Louis moves to lay half on top of his chest. “You mean great morning,” he beams down at him. “Go on, ask me what day it is,” he pushes. Harry can feel his excitement radiating between them. He adopts a huge smile of his own that stretches across his face when his brain catches up to what Louis is so excited about. “What day is it, love?” “It’s Due Date Day!” Harry laughs at the way his eyes light up from finally getting to say it. They’ve all been waiting for this day, counting down for months and weeks, which is no easy task for someone as impatient as Louis. He’s surprised Louis slept at all last night. Their surrogate, Sarah, has had two successful pregnancies for other couples in the past, and each of those babies came a few days early. Louis had been certain that their baby would come before his due date as well, but so far nothing has happened. Harry and everyone else knows that Louis is counting on their baby arriving today; no one except Harry has the heart to tell him that it doesn’t always work that way despite what the doctor says. “Louis, remember what the doctor said…” Harry carefully reminds him, so as not to get their hopes up too high. Louis waves him off just like he did with the doctor after they were informed that their baby is healthy and ready to join the world any day now. “It’s going to be today,” Louis assures him. “I can feel it.” “You said that yesterday and the day before,” Harry points out with a smirk. Louis pinches him in the arm. “It’s not my fault that our kid is stubborn.” “Hmmm... Wonder where he got that from?” “Probably the same gene pool that he got being an annoying prat from,” Louis quips back. “Hey!” Harry yells, taking offense and pinching Louis in retaliation. He doesn’t even flinch, his smile growing wider as he moves to lie next to Harry, rather than on him. “Who do you think he’ll look more like?” he asks dreamily as he stares up at the ceiling. Harry links their hands between them as he thinks about it again. They had originally planned to use Harry’s sperm and a donor egg from the surrogacy agency they used. Back then, he and Louis had hoped the baby would look somewhat like Harry. Then one day, of her own accord, Louis’ eldest sister volunteered to donate an egg for them. Their child will have both of their families’ genes, so now the possibilities are endless. “I want him to have your hair, I think,” Harry finally decides. Louis tugs at a random lock of Harry’s hair that is so long now that it grazes his chest. “Yeah, me too,” Louis teases, causing them both to laugh. “I hope he has Tomlinson eyes as well. They’re so beautiful and blue.” “Really?” Louis flips onto his side with a look of disbelief. “I was hoping they’d be green like yours... I’ve always loved your eyes,” Louis admits. Harry can feel his cheeks warm from the compliment. Louis ruins the moment about five seconds later. “I hope he grows up to be as tall as you and as graceful as me.” Harry frowns at him, half tempted to pinch him again. “Hey! What are you implying?” “Nothing at all,” he grins with the face of innocence. “Simply that our child should inherit your supermodel height.” The part where he’s low-key calling Harry clumsy goes unsaid. They lie there, daydreaming about their son until Louis can’t stand being still any longer. He’s up and on the phone with all of their friends and family, declaring today as the day their baby comes. Harry fondly shakes his head at him, praying that he’s right. He’s proud of him for not driving Sarah insane all day, however, around three in the afternoon Louis starts to get anxious. He calls her up and asks the same barrage of questions he has asked her all week. The questions range from how she’s feeling, if she needs anything, to if there has been any sort of change. She says no, giggling like always at Louis’ dedication, but swears to call the millisecond that something happens. Louis flops face first onto the couch around six o’clock with a long drawn out sigh. “Your kid is taking forever!” Harry makes an offended sound at the back of his throat. “My kid? He’s got half of your family’s genes. He’s your kid too.” “Not when he’s being stubborn like this, he isn’t. I mean really, how hard is it to be born on time? I did it and I’m never on time for anything.” Harry is quick to agree with that last statement. “He’s just trying to make a grand entrance. He likes the attention just like his dad.” He knows things are really getting to Louis when he doesn’t even laugh at his joke. Harry leaves his armchair to come sit on the sofa with Louis. He holds him close, cradling him against his chest. He seems less on edge with Harry holding him, but something still seems off. Louis clears his throat after a few minutes, his voice sounding small and scared. “Haz? Do you think something might be wrong?” The question does something funny to Harry’s chest when he asks it. He doesn’t even want to consider that. He can’t, but he can help put Louis’ mind at ease. “The doctor said our baby is healthy and that everything looks great. Sarah is healthy and she has done this before…I don’t think anything is wrong. I think it’s just taking a little longer than we expected, love.” The worry etched onto his face starts to fade. “You really think so?” Harry can’t know any of that for sure, but he sure hopes that he’s right. “I’m sure of it, love.” * It’s just after ten o’clock when Louis drags himself out of the nursey room for the hundredth time today. Harry tries to comfort him in every way he knows how, but he can still tell that he’s disappointed. They go to bed soon after that, feeling exhausted even though the only thing they did all day was wait around the house. As they lie in bed, Harry holds Louis close to him, praying that their baby comes soon for both of their sakes. He gets his wish when his phone rings at half past two in the morning. Louis springs up with eyes so bright, no one would ever be able to tell that he was just asleep. The phone isn’t even in his hand yet, and already Louis is asking questions. “Who is it? Is it her?” Harry nods to confirm and puts the phone on speaker. “Sarah? Hi, how are you?” Harry rumbles into the receiver. She greets them sounding wide awake. Harry glances at the clock; it’s two thirty-eight. He’s impressed. “I thought something had changed about an hour ago, but I wanted to be sure before I woke you two up. I’m definitely having contractions, so I’m heading over to the hospital soon.” Louis snatches the phone out of his hand even though he can hear her perfectly through the speaker. “Sarah, are you sure? These aren’t like those fake contractions or anything…like, it’s really happening? These are real?” There’s a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the receiver that makes Harry wince for her. “Oh yeah,” she grits out. “These are painfully real.” Neither of them needs more convincing than that before they’re jumping out of bed. They promise to meet her at the hospital as soon as possible. Harry has never moved faster to get somewhere on time in his life. Each of their phones are working overtime as they hurry to call everyone and inform them that baby Tomlinson-Styles is officially on the way. Most of their loved ones arrive at the hospital just after they do, a palpable energy thrumming through the waiting room as they settle in. Harry and Louis have to stop to compose themselves before going in to see Sarah. They only enter the room once they appear less manic for Sarah’s sake. Louis calms down a considerable amount when the doctors tell them it’ll still be a while before there’s a baby, but he looks so thrilled that Sarah is even in labor that his smile never fades. The two of them get quieter as the hours pass and blur. Louis has been pacing in the corridor or choosing to wait with their families, but he hasn’t said much. No one would be able to guess that he had been wide open this morning. “You alright?” Harry asks him when they’re just stepping out of Sarah’s room again. He nods enthusiastically. “I’m great. Fantastic even.” Harry laughs at the way he’s over compensating. “You look scared out of your mind.” Louis covers his face when Harry draws a laugh out of him. “That’s because I am… but it’s a good scared, you know?” When it comes to Louis, Harry has been scared shitless plenty of times. Riding in a hot air balloon, riding the world’s tallest rollercoaster, and even jumping out of a fucking plane over the island of Hawaii after Louis had to practically push Harry out of it are just a few examples, but being here for the birth of their child is by far the scariest thing they’ve done together. It also happens to be the best. “I know exactly what you mean,” Harry grins. * The sense of calm that had settled over the night gets demolished once the doctor says it’s time to push. Sarah had said they could be in the room, but Harry doesn’t want to be one of those fathers that ends up fainting, so he chooses to stand outside of the door, and because his husband is so wonderful, he opts to wait with him. Neither of them dare speak a word as they listen at the door. Harry feels like he has been standing there with his ear pressed against the wood for ages, and then finally they hear the unmistakable first cry of their son. The world feels like it’s underwater when a nurse comes to usher them inside. He registers the room full of hospital staff and the words that they are saying to him, but nothing stands out until a nurse walks towards them with something settled into the crook of her arm. He sees the baby nestled there, but he doesn’t believe he’s actually real until the nurse asks which of them would like to hold him first. Harry shakes his head and places a hand on Louis’ shoulder to give him the honor. After all, Louis has been waiting a very long time to meet him. During their time together, Harry has only seen Louis cry a handful of times. Once, when he proposed, a second time at their wedding, and again one morning when he found, ‘Start a Family’ scribbled onto their list in Harry’s handwriting. Those few times hardly matter at all when their son is finally placed in his husband’s arms. He sucks in a ragged, wet breath as he stares down at their son crying in the quiet room. Louis spends a long time just looking at him, memorizing him like he’s having trouble believing he’s real as well. He places the gentlest kiss Harry has ever seen on his forehead before turning to Harry and offering him a chance to hold him. It still feels like a dream, even with the very real and tiny weight he’s holding in his hands. Harry counts each of his fingers and runs his finger along the slope of his tiny nose, thanking heaven that it looks just as cute as Louis’. His hair is dark like his own. It’s too soon to tell if it’ll be straight or curly, but Harry thinks it would be perfect either way. His son blinks his eyes open for a fraction of a second to reveal a sliver of light blue and that’s all it takes for Harry lose it. He hands the baby back to the nurse when he starts crying so hard that tears start to fall on the soft blanket covering his son’s tiny feet. Louis is all smiles again with his eyes still swimming with tears when he pulls Harry into him. It’s the wettest kiss they’ve ever shared, but Harry also thinks it may be the best. They walk to the waiting room together to tell their friends and family the good news. Congratulations and questions fly at them from every direction, but the question that sticks out the most is the same one he and Louis have spent the last nine months debating over. “What are you going to call him?” Louis’ mother asks, looking just as excited about having a grandson as he and Louis did this morning about becoming dads. There were a few names that both of them liked, but could never agree on. They decided to wait until he was born to see which one would fit him best, and now that they’ve met him, the choice is obvious. They lock eyes wearing identical grins when they tell the room in unison that their son will be called Matthew. * The sun is shining bright when he and Louis manage to sneak away from everyone and head downstairs to get something to eat. They almost make it to the cafeteria as planned, however Louis grabs his hand and guides them in a different direction. They spot their son sleeping in the nursery along with three other babies with his little fists balled up on each side. Louis’ voice is quiet even though Matthew can’t hear from the other side of the glass. “I can’t believe we really get to take him home. I keep thinking I’m dreaming and I’m going to wake up.” Harry drops a kiss to his temple. “I promise you’re not dreaming. I can pinch you if it’ll help.” Matthew yawns wide like a tiny kitten. Louis coos through the glass at him, but doesn’t miss a beat. “Pinch me and I’ll be forced to retaliate in front of our son.” Harry bites down on his stupidly happy grin. They have a son. “I can’t believe we’re here. A year ago this was just another item on the list, and now it’s something real that we can cross off.” Louis sighs, still captivated by their son doing absolutely nothing except existing. “Yeah, I know. Too bad it’s at home.” Harry smiles to himself, thankful he had the presence of mind to grab it before they ran out of the house.  “You mean this old thing?” he asks as he produces the list and a pen from his back pocket. It’s faded and so creased that it’s tearing a little at the edges, but Louis still smiles when he sees it like it’s an old familiar friend. “You remembered!” “Of course I did. Someone had to. You were so insane when Sarah called that you probably couldn’t even spell the word list, so I got it right before we left.” Harry carefully unfolds it and finds the item he’s looking for. He hands the pen to Louis and feels his heart overflowing with pride when he draws a line through their latest achievement. Louis pulls him in for a long kiss that makes Harry feel even lighter (although he didn’t think it was possible). Louis holds him afterwards to let the moment linger and resonate between them. “So, we’ve officially started a family. What next?” Louis smirks. “World domination?” A nap is Harry’s first thought, but then he takes time to read through the list of things they have yet to do. They can go anywhere in the world and do whatever they want. Harry looks through the glass at their beautiful son and realizes that for now, he just wants to be right here. “I was thinking that maybe we could stick around for a bit? See what trouble we can get into around here with Matthew.” He’s grateful when Louis grins and takes his hand, proof that he feels the exact same way. “I was really, really hoping you’d say that.”   The End

“Okay, guys, stay close and let me know if you need any help identifying the plant life. No picking yet!” There was a chorus of acknowledgement and Raya’s small class of children scattered from the lowest level of Fang. Two warriors from the palace stood guard not far away and Raya nodded to them awkwardly, more concerned with keeping an eye on the kids than making nice with her escorts. Glancing around she noticed how one of the girls had stayed behind, small hands fiddling nervously as she looked up at her new teacher. The princess smiled as warmly as she could, moving to take a knee so they could speak at eye level. “Do you have a question about the lesson, Tala?” The dark haired girl seemed to search her eyes for a moment before she whispered, “Can I work with you, Princess Raya?” “Oh.” Raya blinked in poorly suppressed surprise. In the month she had been working with the students of Fang, none of them had ever seemed particularly clingy, likely because of their village’s reputation as fierce warriors. It had honestly disheartened Raya a bit in the beginning, but now with Tala looking up at her with big, sad eyes she felt put on the spot. “Of course, if you want.” The two brunettes set out to forage, creeping low to the ground to keep from disturbing any wildlife. The children were meant to be identifying local flora that could be used for tonics and medicine and Tala was at a supreme advantage with the teacher tagging along with her. The girl was quiet and serious and probably Raya’s favorite child in the class so far. She was younger than a lot of the others which made her natural skill for everything taught extremely impressive. Raya liked to think she saw a bit of herself in Tala, but had to admit at some point she saw much more of Namaari. The children of Fang adored her wife and the second princess wondered if the only reason they were so good for her was because they did not want a bad report to find its way back to Namaari. The infrequent times she would visit during lessons was a fascinating display of the young ones all devolving into awestruck chaos before being quickly herded back into shape with a stern look from their future chief. Raya wasn’t jealous of this fanfare per say, but she longed for the day anyone in Fang would be that excited to see her. As it was, not even her wife showed much of a reaction when she walked into a room. She and Namaari were no longer perfect strangers, but more like cool acquaintances. They still slept in separate rooms and trained on separate fields and basically spent a good chunk of their days trying to avoid each other without making it look like they were avoiding each other. Raya had realized with time that contrary to her first impression, her wife was not actually horribly unlikeable. Servants, warriors, and civilians alike seemed to both admire and respect their princess and in return Namaari treated everyone fairly and as an equal to herself.  Everyone except Raya. Namaari acted as if Raya simply did not exist and Raya mirrored the treatment in kind, though she wasn’t quite positive which one of them were actually on the receiving and returning ends. The princess from Heart had stubbornly refused to make any efforts to find common ground with her wife even though she just knew her Ba would call her stubborn and pig-headed for her behavior. She wasn’t going out of her way to be cruel, obviously, but she also didn’t attempt to make conversation over the several meals they shared and never visited her room again after the first time. She got news of her spouse through the grapevine and Atitaya who had remained friendly and social after their initial encounter. “What’s Princess Namaari like?” Tala questioned suddenly, pulling Raya from her musings. She looked over and saw her student squatting beside a bush blooming full of flowers that could be pressed into a syrup that alleviated coughs, but her wide eyes were turned towards her teacher. Raya blinked, mouth working soundlessly for a moment before she moved her gaze away. “She’s...nice,” she settled on, not sure what a child could possibly want to know about an adult, but not wanting to tarnish her wife’s reputation. “She’s strong and kind and—“ “Everyone knows that,” Tala interrupted, tiny brow furrowed in a way that could only be described as suspicious. Raya stood and started to closely observe nearby tree branches in a ploy to hide her blushing face. “What’s she like when you guys are all alone?” “W-Well, we’re not alone that often,” the Dragon Gem guardian found herself saying much to her own humiliation, “Princesses are very busy, you know?” “What about at night when you sleep?” Tala seemed scandalized and the absurdly pregnant pause that followed her next question only caused her to scrutinize the princess harder. “Mother and father sleep together in their own room.” “The princess and I...Iike our space.” This explanation gave the little girl pause and Raya tried to quickly formulate an escape route from the conversation. Looking around, she was glad to see the palace warriors were too far away to hear this impromptu interrogation, but she also cursed that an emergency didn’t suddenly pop up that needed the immediate attention of the new princess. The other children were scattered about and didn’t appear to need any help at all with their assignment and so Raya was well and truly trapped. Daring to risk a glance at Tala out of the corner of her eye she noted that the girl no longer looked suspicious, but instead vaguely sad and confused.  “Are you and Princess Namaari...not friends?” Stunned silence. “Is it because you have an estranged marriage?” Her verbal slip put her young age on display and Raya felt a heavy breath whoosh out of her. She knelt back down, smiling sincerely at her favorite student as she placed a hand over her chest. “The princess and I have an arranged marriage, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends.” “But you aren’t,” the girl noted matter-of-factly, “Why?” Raya winced. “I think it’s because I’ve been a little...shy.” “Why?” “Well...I’ve been homesick since coming to Fang and I don’t really know if Nama-...the princess would understand.” As she said it, Raya realized it was actually the truth of the matter. She didn’t truly believe Namaari could sympathize with her longing to be back in Heart and so had shut her wife out, all the while telling herself it was Namaari who was being cool and distant. Trust her star student to make this clear as day. “Princess Namaari is very smart,” Tala advised wisely, moving on to another plant as she grew bored with the conversation. “You should talk to her so she can make you feel better.”  “What are you doing in here?” Raya hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh, but surprise had gripped her vocal cords tight when she walked into her room and found her wife standing in the middle of it. Namaari glanced over her shoulder casually, drawn away from where she had been quietly observing an old painting Raya kept on her writing desk. It was an official portrait of the chief of Heart and his two ‘daughters’. Raya had spent several lonely nights in Fang gazing at the oil depiction of Ba and Sisu and wished she could fly back to them. She didn’t particularly care to have Namaari studying it so closely, lest she spot the lack of familial resemblance between Raya and her ‘sister’. The first princess of Fang didn’t show a hint of shame or modesty as she turned fully towards her spouse, a scroll held lightly in her hand. She tossed it to Raya without warning and the other woman caught it on instinct. “A courier brought this for you.” A letter from Heart! Raya moved to rip it open to read immediately, but then recalled a former enemy was in the room and froze. She eyed Namaari warily and slipped the scroll into the waistband of her loose fitting pants. “Thank you for delivering it. Was that all?” Namaari scoffed, “You know since you’ve come, our couriers have had to do twice as much work carrying letters back and forth between you and your family.” It could only be taken as an accusation and so Raya squared her shoulders defiantly, chin high as she met her wife’s eyes. “What? Am I not allowed to fraternize with my own village anymore?” “ Fang is your village now.” “ Heart will always be my homeland.” “You could at least have the decency to try and make a place for yourself here instead of running our messengers ragged just to tell your kid sister you miss her.” “If it’s that much of a problem then why don’t I just go back to Heart?” Raya snapped, teeth bared as the taller woman blanched visibly. “Then your couriers will get plenty of rest since I know you’ll never write.” It was the first conversation they had had in nearly an entire turn of the moon and it was also their first argument. Namaari’s face was twisted with irritation as she stomped forward into Raya’s space. “Why would you return to Heart? We’re married!” “Well, I can be married from my village,” Raya responded stubbornly. Her heart was hammering loudly in her chest as Namaari leaned into her face. Brown eyes met and the room suddenly didn’t have enough room for the two of them. The Fang princess looked her wife up and down as if inspecting her and Raya fought back a shiver. “Is that what you really want?” she challenged, “To ruin the fragile peace our union has created between our homelands?” “It wouldn’t ruin-“ “Do you even care about my people?” It was a serious blow to her pride and honor and they both knew it. To say Raya didn’t care for Namaari as her reluctant bride was one thing, but to say she didn’t care about the people of a village she was meant to one day lead was quite another. She sputtered, “Of course I-! “You don’t take anything about this arrangement seriously,” Namaari interrupted, drawing away from the shorter woman as she heaved a sigh through her nose. She sounded tired and frustrated. “I take our marriage seriously, Namaari,” Raya defended, but her voice was small as she recalled Tala’s tiny face pinched in disappointment as she accused her teacher of not being friends with her own wife.  ”This is our first talk in weeks and you're threatening to abandon the village,” Namaari pointed out, dark eyes slit with irritation as she paced the area between the bed and the door. Raya thought not for the first time that she was just like a cat. “I hardly ever see you!” “I could say the same thing!” ”Because you avoid me!” The princess’ voice sounded different raised like this; higher and slightly shrill. Raya winced. “In the halls, on the training field; you go out of your way to be everywhere I’m not! Why are you even here if this is how you’re going to act?” “I just-“ “No one forced you into this marriage, Raya.” Namaari’s voice was back to its usual low grate, her whole body tense as she glared at her partner icily. “I didn’t ask for you .” Raya’s breath caught in her throat and she unconsciously backed into the door at the harsh look on the other woman’s face. Namaari was right of course. Even though their marriage had been arranged, Raya had not been forced to accept any type of proposal against her will. The proposal hadn’t even been meant for her, it had been meant for Sisu; Heart’s most preciously guarded secret. When the scroll from Fang had arrived all those months ago it had been with a sincere suggestion from Namaari herself that she would wed the youngest daughter of Chief Benga and form an alliance between Fang and Heart as a sign of good faith for generations to come.  They had all known immediately that there was no way Sisu could marry the princess, her hidden identity as the last dragon making it impossible to trust her in the hands of another village. Still, to refuse would have been an insult too great to ignore and so Raya had volunteered herself in her adopted sister’s place. It was a far greater sign of trust to offer up the next in line for the chieftain than the quirky younger daughter who had not been introduced to society until only a few years prior. And so Raya had left Heart Land, married Namaari, and had been avoiding her ever since. “It’s not that simple,” the former guardian murmured, fire gone from her form as she shrank under her wife’s gaze.  “You don’t know everything.” Namaari didn’t respond, just stood there with a hand on her hip and looked down at the shorter woman as she always did. Raya could feel a blush splashing over her cheeks as a heady silence stretched out between them punctuated by the sound of village life filtering in through the windows. Namaari had gone into this hoping for a wife that would help her unite their lands and had gotten Raya instead. “I’m sorry, but...this has been hard for me and you and I aren’t even friends so...I don’t know what to say.” The confession lifted a weight off her chest and her next breath wasn’t nearly as ragged as she had expected it to be. Since arriving in Fang Raya had constantly felt like everyone was studying her and judging her, but in that moment she felt as if Namaari was simply looking at her. Like she was seeing her for the first time. The silence continued, but it was less tense, and slowly but surely the sharp lines of Namaari’s face smoothed out and her shoulders slipped down in a non-rigid slope. She didn’t seem as big anymore as she moved around Raya to finally head for the door. “Don’t miss dinner tonight please,” she said lowly on her way out.  Raya hardly caught an ounce of sleep after her discussion with Namaari, the harsh accusations of the other princess playing over and over again in her head. She didn’t go to dinner. Laying wide awake in her bed, the Dragon Gem guardian had to admit that her wife had made some rather cutting but true observations about their union so far; Raya wasn’t taking it seriously. The fate of the peace between their villages rested on her shoulders and she was letting everyone down with her stubbornness. Which was why she rose with the sun the next day and went in search of the palace kitchens.  She would start this journey to her redemption with the first step.  Even with the day barely started, the grounds of Fang were alight with activity and it wasn’t hard for her to find someone to point her to where their meals were prepared. She had been getting the lay of the land over the last month and felt confident she could find her way back after she’d completed her mission. The kitchens here were not unlike the ones in Heart; full to the brim with ingredients hunted or gathered from the surrounding land and bustling with people coming and going as they prepared the meals for the day. A heavenly smell was wafting through the air and Raya felt tension slide off her shoulders as she recognized the scent of her favorite soup. With ingredients from every village, it was the perfect combination of flavors and a fitting representation of what Kumandra could be if they all worked together. She made a note to definitely make time to attend lunch and then started searching around for the necessary pieces to make a pot of tea. Her plan, simple though it was, was to offer Namaari a peace offering in the form of a spicy tea that was extremely popular in Heart. Fang seemed to favor green tea and chrysanthemum and Raya had been dying for chai for a while and now she finally had a reason to make it herself. To share with her wife. The servants were very helpful once she explained what she was looking for. With a familiar ease from spending years in the cooking area, a young boy brought her black tea leaves, milk, spices, and some sugar. He offered to make the pot himself, but Raya dismissed him politely, confident that she could make the tea from memory, but not that she could properly explain the process to someone else. It wasn’t as if she measured every ingredient out carefully every time; it was a sprinkle here and a pinch there until it tasted perfect. That couldn’t be taught in the timeframe she was looking at. Everyone gave her a respectful amount of space as she stood there, taking constant sips of the unfinished brew until it tasted just like Ba used to make. A girl a few years younger than her brought her a tray and some cups and then Raya was ready. Careful not to drop her precious cargo, the Heart princess wove her way back through the hallways, thankfully only getting turned around once. She kept her pace steady but brisk since she knew Namaari rose early and didn’t want to miss her. Nor did she want the tea to grow cold. The scent of spice wafted into her face from the steam out of the pot and her stomach grumbled enviously. Raya hoped Namaari did in fact feel like sharing with her and straightened her shoulders nervously as she finally found herself outside her wife’s bedroom door. With one more steadying breath and being careful to readjust her tray, Raya knocked firmly on the door and waited. If there was movement within, it was muffled by the thick walls and Raya worried that maybe she had missed her chance. However, as she moved to knock again, the door swung open and there was Namaari dressed and ready for the day while her wife was still in her sleep clothes. Raya noticed this with a flush of embarrassment as she thrust the tray out towards Namaari, lips pressed into a thin line as the warrior eyed it critically. “A peace offering.” Her wife’s brow ticked minutely and she leaned forward slightly to sniff at the pot, the spicy scent no doubt foreign to her. Raya told herself the chances that Namaari was double checking that the tea wasn’t poisoned were high, but that she would politely not accuse her of anything. “What is it?” “Masala chai,” she said, lowering the tray slightly as her arms began to ache under the weight. “I’ve been rude and I wanted to show you I’m sorry. This is a tea we make back ho-...in Heart, and I’d like to share it with you.” Namaari looked rightfully suspicious for a moment, but she still opened her door wider to permit her wife to enter. Raya heaved a huge breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding; she hadn’t been positive the other woman would let her in. She moved to set the tea tray down on one of the wide window ledges, careful to step over Buwan’s tail swishing back and forth on the ground. The serlot was lounging near the foot of the bed and looked up at Raya with a low purr as she passed. Once the tea was safe, the two women stared at each other awkwardly in the early morning silence.  “Uh...how old are you?” Raya questioned, embarrassed this was something she had not known before. Namaari blinked, guard lowering slightly as she considered the question and Raya got the distinct feeling her wife already knew how old she was. Tala had been right to frown so heavily at her the day before. She answered, “Nineteen.” “Oh...I’m eighteen so I guess I’ll serve you,” Raya noted haltingly, reaching out to grab one of the empty cups and the pot.  She could feel Namaari’s sharp eyes on the back of her neck as she poured the steaming tea, the heat insulated from her hands by the thick stone of the cup. She passed the spicy drink off to her wife with a quick dip of her head, and then moved to pour her own serving. Namaari waited patiently, not drinking until Raya was ready and then they both stood there sipping in silence. Warmth flooded all through the Heart princess’ body as the familiar flavors spilled over her tongue and down her throat. It tasted like home and if she closed her eyes she could almost pretend she was sitting in her room back in Heart, Sisu flung across her bed lazily and Tuk Tuk peeking in through the window. However, when she opened her eyes she was back in Fang and Namaari was there tasting her tea lightly, eyes soft and unassuming as she hummed.  “This is good,” she noted, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Buwan jumped up after her, large body acting like a cushion as his mistress leaned back against him. The bed had to have stone underneath because it barely dipped under the massive feline’s weight. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Raya leaned back on the window ledge, reaching to pour herself another cup as she tried to piece together the wording for what she wanted to say next. “Do you...have anything to do today?” “After breakfast I need to meet with a merchant from Heart to discuss trade deals,” Namaari informed blandly. Her wife nodded. “Oh...alright then…” “Did you...want to do something?” Namaari looked as surprised as any adult from Fang was probably capable of looking, brows raised slightly as Raya waved her off hurriedly. “Not if you're busy!” she insisted. “I’m sure I can find Atitaya once my class dismisses.” “She’s on a scouting detail in Spine.” “Oh…” The other princess watched her wife closely and shared a meaningful look with her cat before standing. Her cup was empty and she passed it back to Raya, a silent request for more. “If you have nothing to do once the children are gone we could...do something together?” Raya smiled and nodded, moving to silently pour her wife another cup of tea. It was nothing more than a plan to make a plan, but for a married couple who hadn’t truly spoken or spent any quality time together in weeks it felt like progress. The two of them stayed together sipping tea and talking lowly until it was time to attend breakfast. For the first time since arriving in Fang, Raya took the seat that had been set beside Namaari.  Egregiously enormous progress. 

                    Steven’s secondary gender had never been something he thought much about. When his eighteenth birthday had come and gone, he confirmed what he and his family had always assumed. Steven was sure he was a beta, just like his father. After all, it’s not like anything else should have been swimming around in his gene pool. Gems didn’t have secondary genders, so it was one of the very few things in his life that his mother had no influence over.   Steven was content with being a beta. After the meltdowns and mood swings that accompanied his teenage years, he figured that any more hormones wreaking havoc on his body might just make his head explode. Plus, from what little he understood about the other two genders, he considered himself lucky he didn’t have to deal with the whole mating aspect of things. He didn’t even have a partner. Connie, who had presented as an alpha, had broken things off with him right before leaving for college this past fall. With Steven on the road seeing new sights and Connie drowning in her studies, they didn’t really have the time or space to keep up a romantic relationship. That had been hard for Steven to accept, of course. He dreaded to think about how many other people Connie could be involved with, meeting new people in class and attending frat parties and the like. Steven never stayed in one place long enough to really get to know anyone. Driving from city to city, state to state was exhilarating and eye-opening, but he often got lonely.   Right now, Steven was making his way through the dirt roads and landmarks of Aqua-New Mexico. Blasting his music, windows cracked, he took note of the darkening sky on the horizon of the empty highway. He yawned. He’d been driving for at least three hours, seeing barely even a gas station while he made headway through the desolate part of this state. It was scenic, sure, but pretty deserted. I guess that’s to be expected in the desert.   After a while longer, Steven eventually saw an exit sign detailing a fast food restaurant, gas station and motel. He used his turn signal out of habit, even though there was no one on the highway to see it, and pulled off into the exit.   He’d been living out of motel and hotel rooms for the better part of two years now, the time flying so fast he couldn’t believe he was almost twenty. He visited home every once in a while, stayed for maybe a month or two before the setting and stasis got too eerily familiar. He loved his family and he loved Beach City, but he couldn’t stay there for long. There were too many reminders of bad, bad things that haunted him. Pearl’s home cooked meals were always nice, though.   Steven fondly remembered some of his favorite recipes as he paid for a burger and fries in this dimly lit, single staffed fast food joint. Not exactly what he should be eating, but it’ll do for now. He thought about how long it’d actually been since he visited home, and promised himself he’d start making his way back soon. Right after he visited the Grand Chasm.   Pulling up to the motel, he noticed how much it looked like the first one he’d ever been to in Keystone. Most motels looked exactly the same, if he was being honest, but maybe all this thought of home was making him see something familiar in this old, run down place. He put down his dad’s credit card at the front desk, an act he’s done countless times since leaving home. He’s always felt kinda guilty about using his dad’s money so flippantly, especially at the nicer hotels or in towns where the gas prices were an arm and a leg. However, Greg always insisted on it. After all, those ten million dollars were exceptionally hard to make a dent in, with interest and all the other bank stuff Steven barely understood.   Once settled into his room, Steven slumped in exhaustion. He hadn’t really realized how tired he was. He’s long since learned that sitting in a car for hours on end, while it may seem low effort and relaxing, really drained him after a while. That being said, he felt exceptionally exhausted all of the sudden. He flopped onto his bed, not bothering to do the cursory bed bug check his dad always stressed the importance of. He barely wanted to eat,  and if it weren’t for his rumbling stomach he might have just fallen asleep right there in his jeans. Grasping the forgotten bag of food he’d dropped by his dangling feet, he dug in.   It wasn’t the most satisfying of meals, and by the end of it Steven cursed himself for not buying a milkshake or something while he was there. The thought of ice cream, or chocolate, or some kind of candy was so strangely appealing to him right now. He’s been pretty good about his sugar intake in recent years, going for water instead of sodas and only eating the occasional ice cream, but right now all he could think about was a big tub of rocky road.   His mouth watered at the idea, but his exhaustion won over. Pulling off his jeans and tossing them aside, Steven crawled under the stiff covers of the motel bed. He haphazardly reached for the lamp switch, flicking it off, burrowing into the two dingy pillows and bunching up the blankets before succumbing to a deep sleep.   ————   At 5 am, Steven woke up restless and sweating. Normally, if he woke up with damp bed sheets, it was because of cold sweats after a particularly bad nightmare. This, however, was not due to any nightmare, at least not that he could remember.   What he did know, however, was that the room was absolutely sweltering. Steven felt hot and sticky, as if it was the dead of summer in his humid hometown. Which was bizarre, considering it was early spring and this desert area of the country was usually freezing without the sun to warm the air. Steven fought with the covers, stumbling out of bed to open his window and let the cool air start circulating in. It didn’t help as much as he thought it would. For whatever reason, even with the chilly early morning breeze creeping into his room, Steven was still burning up.   What’s happening to me?  He thought, baffled. He felt light headed as he ran a hand through his damp curls.   Steven vaguely remembered Connie telling him about fevers, where your body temperature rises when you get sick. Was Steven sick? The worst he’s ever had to deal with was allergies when he was a kid and the physical aftermath of his big meltdown. He’s never been ill before, not like a regular human. He always assumed that his gem protected him from any viruses or infections; his healing powers would just nip it in the bud. He had no frame of reference for what a fever was like, so how could he know for sure?   The only thing he could think to do to cool himself down was take a cold shower. Padding unsteadily over to the bathroom, he fumbled with the faucet before setting it to cold and stripping down. Without needing to wait for the water to heat up, he jumped straight under the stream. The shock of cold water made him gasp involuntarily, curling into himself and falling back against the shower wall. He shook as his body temperature warred against the water. After a few minutes of getting used to it, it actually started to feel nice. Steven relaxed into it, letting the water pour over his head and down his body.   He had grabbed a tiny bar of soap from the sink to use, unwrapping it and sudsing himself up. He had his own shampoo, conditioner and body wash in his luggage, but he hadn’t thought to grab it from his car last night. So Steven made do with what he had.   Rinsing off under the stream, Steven sighed in relief. He was starting to feel normal again, so he didn’t have to worry about being sick, right? That was, until a sharp pain in Steven’s gut made him keel over, frighteningly close to slipping in the shower just from the surprise.   Steven grunted and gasped, slowly falling to his knees in the tub as his stomach cramped intensely. He wrapped his arms around his torso, whimpering in confusion and pain as he toppled onto his shoulder and curled into the fetal position. The water flicked onto him annoyingly as the cramps his body was enduring started to make him nauseous.   What’s was happening to him???   The pain ebbed and flowed while Steven groaned and panted, shivering in the tub. When his body gave him a brief moment of reprieve, the hybrid reached up to the faucet and set the water temperature over to hot, hoping it would do something to fight against the ache rippling through him. To Steven’s surprise, his idea actually worked. The warmth pouring over his midsection soothed his cramps enough to allow him to pull himself up to a standing position, leaned against the shower wall for support.   Unfortunately, however, the water temperature caused that same unbearable heat boiling Steven alive to resurface. He whined, confused and frightened as frustrated tears prickled at his eyes.   When he eventually realized the shower couldn’t do anything more to help him, Steven shut off the water and grasped for a towel. He did his best not to slip on the linoleum floor of the bathroom before making it back to his bed and face planting.   He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. He’d never felt anything like this before, and it scared him. Was it some kind of disease he’d never heard of? Where did he get it from?   …   Could it be some kind of Gem sickness?   Steven pawed over his gem, shivering from the weird sensation it evoked. Flopping onto his back and peering down at himself, he studied the glittering diamond. It looked normal as always. He wasn’t glowing or swelling. Do Gems even get sick? He’d never heard of anything other than being cracked and corruption, which he didn’t really count as sickness.   Another intense cramp wracked through him and he cried out. A strange rushing sensation accompanied the pain, causing an odd damp heat to settle in between his legs.   Steven froze. The only thing he could imagine had come out of him was blood. Hesitantly, he reached a hand down under him and found the wetness. When his shaking hand came back into view, he breathed in partial relief. It wasn’t blood. In fact, it almost looked like water if it weren’t for the sticky, almost viscous quality to it.   Somewhere in the back of Steven’s mind, he knew what this was. Denial was a powerful thing, though, and that fleeting idea went against everything he knew.   Stuck on the theory that this had to be some kind of human illness, Steven went to his last resort. He searched for his phone, finding it tucked under one of the pillows. His shaking fingers typed in his passcode and he went straight to his contacts.   He dialed, setting the phone to speaker and resting his head against the blankets as he listened to it ring. This was the only person he could think of that might be able to help him, and one of the only people he trusted to.   “Steven?” A groggy, quiet voice eventually picked up, along with some rustling on the other end of the line. The man’s voice was scratchy and rough but comforting all the same. “Boy, you’re sure up early, Schtuball. Is everything okay?”   “Dad…” Steven croaked, muffled against the covers of his bed. “Dad, I… S-something’s wrong with me.”   Suddenly, his dad sounded much clearer, his tone shifting from wary to alarmed. “What? What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”   “I…” Steven clenched his teeth and fought back a whimper as another cramp passed over him. His voice trembled over his words as he spoke. “I’m sick, I-I think I might have a f-fever. I-I don’t know, my stomach hurts, too. I don’t know w-what’s happening to me.”   “Sick? But you’ve never been sick…” Greg sounded incredulous and thoughtful, with an undertone of worry. Steven heard him clear his throat. “Where are you? Are you close to a pharmacy, or a hospital?”   “I’m in the middle of nowhere!” Steven whined pitifully, already knowing how screwed he was. Tears dripped down his cheeks, his breath stuttering unevenly. He felt more like a child than ever, begging his dad for help like this. “I-I’m in a motel in the desert, I just guh-got here last night. What am I supposed to do?”   “Oh, bud…” Greg sighed sympathetically. “Hold on, lemme check something… Did you use the credit card to get the room?”   “Yes.” Steven breathed, rubbing his tear-stained cheek into the covers.   A minute went by, Steven suffering through the ache and heat as he listened to his dad tap on his phone screen.   “Dusty Road Inn?” Greg eventually spoke up, “Is that where you are, Schtuball?”   “Mhmm…” Steven hummed, his tense body relaxing slightly as the pain passed for a beautiful, merciful moment.   “Okay, lemme look it up on the map…” A little more tapping, the soft sound of his dad breathing and then a regrettable: “Oh, boy… You weren’t kidding, huh?”   Steven groaned aloud. He was fucked.   “Okay, it’s alright. I’ll have some stuff delivered to your room, it just might take a little while. Some pain reliever, fever reducer… maybe some soup?”   Greg paused, supposedly waiting for some kind of response but Steven was too busy trying to ignore his growing discomfort. “Do you have any other symptoms, Schtuball? Headache? The sniffles? Cough?”   “Nuh-uh,” Steven admitted, grateful that his dad at least had some idea of how to help him figure this out. There was one thing the hybrid was neglecting to mention, however, something that made his cheeks light up in embarrassment.  If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge him, though, it was his dad. “But u-um, there is… it’s like...” His voice fell to a shameful mumble, “Wet. Down there.”   The other end of the line was silent for a few, excruciatingly still moments. He could feel the realization slowly dawning on his father through the phone. “What do you mean, bud?”   Steven was burning up, and not just from the fever. He licked his dry lips, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. He had to continue, though. He couldn’t just leave it at that. “Th-there’s all this slick stuff, I don’t know… I-it’s clear.”   He heard Greg take in a breath, “Steven…” the man hesitated, and his tone was strained and light when he spoke, “I think that, uh… I think you might be in heat.”   Steven’s stomach dropped.   In heat.   He had been avoiding that phrase, unsure of what exactly it meant for him. It was far too ultimate, and it rewrote so much of how Steven saw himself and how he thought of his life. Hearing it said aloud, however, when he’s stuck in the throes of something he doesn’t understand, the phrase feels very apt.   “No,” Still, Steven wanted to deny it. Why now? It had been so long, Steven was sure that there wouldn’t be any surprises. “I’m a beta. I can’t…”   He wasn’t prepared for this.   “I mean,” Greg’s voice sounded stretched with discomfort, trying to remain delicate. “You’ve always been a bit of a late bloomer, kiddo.”   “No…” Steven groaned. He couldn’t be an omega. He didn’t know the first thing about being an omega! Well, maybe he did, considering he was living it at this very moment, but it’s not like he knew how to deal with it.   “Okay. Now, don’t worry, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I, uh–“ Greg choked on his words, breathing a nervous sigh. “I know I never really gave you much of a talk about this, and I’m sorry about that. But uh, well, ya see, when your body goes through these changes–“   “Dad, p-please stop.” Steven protested through the hands covering his face. This was mortifying. He panted, feeling like his guts were tying themselves into knots. “D-don’t do this. I seriously cannot handle this conversation right now.”   More slick began seeping out from between Steven’s legs, proving his point. He crossed them and pulled the towel to further cover his lower half, disgusted with himself.   “H-how do I make it stop?” The hybrid pleaded. There had to be some way to end this, some way other than with an alpha.   “Uhh,” Greg furiously tapped on his phone, “Hold on, I think the pharmacy might carry a temporary heat suppressant. Lemme see if I can’t swift-cart it to you. What room are you in?”   “Three.” Steven whimpered, growing more and more delirious as his fevered body began to burn hotter, almost seeming to fry his brain.   “Okay, I found something. Lemme see here, it says it’ll take…” Greg paused, holding his breath. “Five hours to get to you. I-I’m sorry, bud. Do you think you can hang on that long?”   “J-just do it.” Steven sobbed. “Please. Anything.”   “Okay, alright. It’s on its way.”   “Thank you.” The hybrid whispered.   “In the meantime, uh…” Awkwardness pervaded the silent space in the call, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it might help for you to, ya know. Try to… take care of yourself.”   “Don’t–“   “It’s perfectly natural, and, uh, I can text you an article about how to help an omega in heat, or-or something along those lines. I won’t say another word, don’t worry–”   “O-okay, alright, thank you, Dad!” Steven said through gritted teeth.   “Remember to stay hydrated, kiddo! Drink plenty of water, and order yourself something to eat, something sweet–“   “Bye!” Steven slapped the end-call button and pushed his phone as far away as possible so he didn’t have to see any messages his dad thought to send him.   Well, that was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened.   Steven tried to even his breathing, the heat rushing through him making his mind foggy and dim.   He didn’t want to have to deal with this.   Steven should have been a beta, there was no reason for him to present as an omega. The hybrid figured it was just another way for the universe to fuck with him.   It wasn’t fair.   The hybrid cried out as that deep, awful ache rocked through him again and more slick poured down his squeezed-shut thighs.   Make it stop, please make it stop.   As much as Steven would like to claim ignorance, he wasn’t all that innocent. He’d seen porn before, obviously. Alpha-omega stuff littered the websites he would occasionally frequent. He wasn’t an idiot.   Another cramp twisted through him, and he writhed in discomfort and abject frustration.   “Stars, please… fine. Fine!”   Desperate for this clawing, wrenching pain to stop, Steven reached down and opened his legs shakily. This wasn’t completely new, at least. He’d experimented with himself in the shower once or twice, but now that his body was more or less designed for this, it became so much more daunting. He was hesitant as he trailed his hand down to this new, unfamiliar territory.   Oh, stars.   He was so wet.   Shame reddened the tips of his ears.   Was he really gonna do this?   His entrance spasmed when the tip of his finger lightly brushed against it, begging for more.   He didn’t have a choice.   Steven cautiously pressed the tip of his finger inside and was met with zero resistance, only slick, wet heat and tiny sparks of pleasure dancing along his spine.   The hybrid shuddered and moaned outright, his voice full of aching relief. He inched his finger in deeper and sucked in a breath, his eyes rolling back from how amazing it felt. It was almost terrifying to realize how much his body needed this, especially after he had unwittingly denied it this whole morning.   Modesty be damned, Steven needed this.   Grasping onto the covers with one tight fist, Steven worked his finger in and out of himself, gasping and whining as the pleasure built faster than his brain could keep up with. Suddenly and without warning, he was tightening and spasming around his own finger, his hips bucking involuntarily and slick gushing out over his hand.   “Aahhuh—nnnh!”   The feeling took over his entire body and he shook and gasped, his eyes screwed shut.   “Hah, hah…”   Euphoria washed over him, dazing him as his hips settled back onto the bed and he slowly slipped out of himself. He was panting hard, feeling like jello as his bent knees slid out from under him and his arms fell loosely to his sides. When his brain finally had the chance to catch up to what happened, Steven was stunned.   Did he just come?   Well, there was no denying that. It was definitely an orgasm; his body was shivering with aftershocks and the bed beneath him was soaked. He had been fucking himself for less than fifteen seconds, though, with just a single digit and no other stimulation.   Looking down at his nude body, Steven saw that his cock was completely hard against his belly, oozing copious amounts of precum over his gem. The realization struck him with a strange mix of dread and curiosity.   He came like an omega.   That was definitely a new feeling. The few times he had played with himself down there had never felt anything like that. It was like his mind had gone completely blank, an instinct he never knew he had taking over and giving his body what it was craving without hesitation.   It was scary how right it felt.   And the relief, stars.   The cramping, the discomfort, the sweltering fever had eased pretty much as soon as he started fucking himself. It was heavenly to get this kind of reprieve, especially after such an amazing orgasm. Steven hardly realized he was smiling like an idiot before he felt himself start leaking again, his entrance squeezing around something that wasn’t there.   Before he could even think, he was reaching down again and slipping his first finger back in all the way up to the knuckle.   “Ahhh–“ Steven moaned highly, his back arching and his legs kicking. It was only after few hard, deep pumps that he slipped another finger in along the first, spreading himself wide with no resistance. A strangled cry ripped from his throat. “F-fuck!”   He forced his fingers deeper, twisting and scissoring at a frenzied pace all while he whined like a bitch in heat. Well, that much was accurate. A third finger joined the other two, and Steven howled.   Yes! Good! Steven’s brain screamed in delight.   Deeper… Faster…More!   Steven tried to push as deep as he possibly could, and when he curled those digits experimentally, it was all over.   There was something there, something that made Steven all but lose his mind. That one spot made his entire body seize, made him suck in a huge, gasping breath, and made him fall apart instantly. He shook and jerked with the force of his second orgasm, repeatedly pressing over the spot that made the brightest of stars explode in his belly.   Steven was keening, unable to stop the debauched sounds from pouring out of him. He didn’t even need to touch his cock, the stimulation from his fingers alone making him come all over himself, white ropes painting his chest and slick coating his wrist.   Recovering from the mind blowing euphoria Steven just experienced took what felt like several minutes. The hybrid was on cloud nine, little jolts of left over pleasure rocketing through him and making him whimper. His entrance was squeezing his fingers so tight, almost like his body was trying to keep them inside for as long as possible.   As amazing as it all felt, Steven was starting to sense that there was something missing. There was a strange feeling of emptiness inside him, as if there was some other space that he couldn’t seem to fill.   Knot. Steven’s instinct whispered to him.   Of course. That’s what all those omegas were always begging for in those videos Steven pretended he didn’t watch. They wanted their alphas to knot them.   They wanted their alphas to mate them.   Well… how was he supposed to do take care of that on his own?   The pit of emptiness inside him grew the longer Steven pondered it. He wiggled his fingers a bit, trying to maneuver them deep enough to reach the space inside him that needed to be filled. He whined, frustrated that the more he tried, the more desperate his body grew, and the more insistent that little voice in his head became.   Knot! Knot! Knot!   Tears pricked at the corners of Steven’s eyes as he twisted and writhed, trying to reach a place that he already knew he couldn’t reach. He let out a small sob, pulling out his useless fingers and pressing both hands to his lower abdomen. He could feel it right there, that gnawing hollowness that was slowly beginning to eat him alive.   Steven felt like crying, the loneliness and neglect of his physical needs making him increasingly miserable. Curling up onto his side, Steven let the tears trickle, sniffling and hiccuping. He felt so pathetic, his emotions running especially high due to the hormones that were currently wreaking havoc on his system. He knew it wasn’t his fault for feeling this way, and that fact made him angry.   Why did this have to happen to him? Why now, when he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, more alone than ever?   Steven didn’t see, but could feel his gem flicker in response to his distress. That happened pretty often, and he had been working extremely hard in therapy to make sure his destructive powers wouldn’t get the better of him when he was upset or in a panic.   “I don’t need that right now, thanks.” Steven mumbled to his gem, his voice raw and tearful.   And that’s when, suddenly, a thought occurred to Steven. Or, more like a memory.   ‘It’s okay, Steven. I’m never alone.’   Garnet’s voice rang through his head, and then, gradually, the gears in his head started turning.   Steven had an idea.   Taking a deep breath, the hybrid used his clean hand to wrap his fingers around the edges of his gem. The sensation alone was enough to make him flinch, if it weren’t only for the psychosomatic response to the feeling of something clutching his gem.   You know, what with all the trauma.   Ignoring the fact that his therapist would not recommend this, and ignoring his own natural fear, Steven held his breath and pulled the gem embedded in his flesh free.   And the sheer pain of it made him immediately pass out.   ———   He came to what seemed to be only a few moments later, blinking his heavy eyelids and squinting at the bright pink glowing figure hovering directly over him.   The naked bright pink glowing figure.   Right. Steven thought. What was I expecting?   It still made him blush.   “Hi,” Steven greeted meekly.   The other version of himself’s eyes were wide, fixated on Steven’s face. The gaze that bore into the human was as intense as ever.   “Fuse.” The Pink Steven commanded. His electronic voice reverberated through Steven’s ears, making Steven shiver. Under the blankness of his expression, he seemed confused. Concerned.   “N-no.” Steven tried to argue.   “No?” Pink Steven immediately snapped back, now visibly confused.   “No, I-I brought you out f-for a reason!” The conviction in Steven’s voice slowly petered out, replacing itself with shame. “I-I need your help.“   “You are distressed.” Pink noted, eyes flickering over the tear stains on Steven’s cheeks.   “No… w-well, yes, but—ah!” Just then, another shooting pain twisted in Steven’s abdomen, making him hiss.   “You are hurt.” Pink announced definitively, “I will heal you.”   Before Steven could stop him, Pink leaned down and kissed Steven on the forehead. A glittering light emanated from his lips, a zing of electricity sparking through Steven but not due to any aspect of their healing powers. Pink pulled back, looking at his human for any sign of a positive affect. Steven just looked surprised, a little dusting of pink on his cheeks. Still, the Gem had no reason to believe his powers hadn’t done the trick.   “Fuse.” Pink insisted.   “Th-thanks, but it’s uh, it’s not that kind of hurt.” Steven told him sheepishly. “I don’t need healing from you.”   Pink’s brows furrowed pensively. “What do you require?”   Steven averted his eyes, flushing with an intense heat that didn’t necessarily have to do with being an omega. His gaze traveled along one of Pink’s arms, traipsing down his torso and staring at the bright, glittering gem for a long moment. Then, his eyes made their way a little bit lower. He bit his lip, feeling the pull of his instincts.   Pink’s cock was hard, whether the Gem knew what that meant or not. It made sense, considering the fact that so was Steven’s when they separated. Pink was nearly a perfect copy of him, frozen in time, if it weren’t for the gem, the pink glow and the owlish, unblinking diamond eyes studying him so intensely.   “Uhnn…” Steven moaned, feeing his body urging him to do something by undulating and pouring out even more slick. He arched, breathing heavily through the embarrassment and fierce arousal boiling his blood. “P-please, I need you to touch me.”   Pink blinked twice and quickly acquiesced to Steven’s request, placing his impossibly hot hands on Steven’s arms. “Like this?”   “No, ah, lo-lower…” Steven begged, tucking his chin to his chest self-consciously as he took a hold of Pink’s hands. He slid them down past his torso and onto his hips which trembled finely in the Gem’s grasp. The human shivered at the contact. The feeling of another pair of hands on his feverish skin was indescribably good, and he whimpered for it.   Pink, to his part, appeared to be somewhat nervous, staring down at his own still hands with a dozen questions whizzing behind those sharp, analytical eyes.   “Is this what you required?” The Gem asked with as much warmth as a popsicle in a tundra and a hint of what Steven could only assume was uncertainty. “Can we fuse now?”   “Oh, fuck it,” Steven growled in frustration, latching onto the sides of Pink’s head and pulling himself up to smash their lips together in a hot, frenzied kiss.   “Mmpf!” Pink replied into Steven’s mouth, the most animated sound Steven had ever heard him make. The Gem’s eyes were as wide as saucers, pure shock overriding his system, yet he still kept Steven’s hips firmly in his grasp. He allowed himself to be pushed backwards by his human’s meager strength. The human wasted no time in climbing on top of him, seating himself on Pink’s lap as his hungry tongue delved deep and his body began to rock of its own volition.   “Mm-ohhh, stars, yesss…” Steven whined past Pink’s lips, moaning shamelessly as he ground his hips into his Gem’s. It was like he wasn’t controlling his own body, his omega instinct taking over and doing everything in its delirious power to touch, kiss, fuck, mate. When their cocks unintentionally brushed together, Steven whimpered, digging his nails into Pink’s shoulder and attempting to grind their cocks together with more vigor. Much to Steven’s surprise, he heard and felt a distinct breathy sound leave his Gem’s mouth from the motion. A string of saliva trailed down Steven’s chin as he pulled back, trying to focus on his Gem’s face.   Pink… Pink was blushing?   It was a little hard to tell, but there was a noticeable dark splotch settling on the Gem’s cheeks, his mouth slightly agape in wonder, his glowing eyes burning hotly instead of coldly as they gazed at him.   “Do…uhhn… do you feel this?” Steven reached down to brazenly grab Pink’s cock, giving it a few clumsy, experimental strokes. Despite the lack of technique on Steven’s part, Pink closed his eyes, a soft sigh of pleasure barely audible over Steven’s own breathless panting. Then, Pink blinked his bright, lidded eyes back open and nodded slightly, affirmative.   Steven smiled, reassured that he at least wasn’t being totally selfish about this.   “W-well, then this should be guh-good for the both of us…”   Lifting himself up, Steven angled Pink’s cock as skillfully as he could to line up with his entrance, shaking with arousal and adrenaline. Feeling the throbbing head pass over it until finally catching, the human wasted no time in sinking himself down onto Pink’s cock.   “A-aahhh…!”   Steven cried out, a sharp, high sound that ripped from his throat as Pink’s cock slid into him to the hilt. He was nearly sobbing from it, feeling so achingly full and fulfilled already. It was mind-blowing, and it had barely even started. Steven clawed his nails down Pink’s back, tucking his chin into the Gem’s shoulder and trying his best to hang on as his limbs weakened from the sheer pleasure of having a cock fully seated inside him.   Pink remained completely still, tensed with obvious pleasure but ultimately unsure of what he was supposed to do.   “Puh-p-please…” The human’s voice sounded whiny and pitiful even to his own ears, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt his strength being sapped, his instinct forcing him to rely on the one who had unwittingly claimed him. He tried to rock himself back and forth, but he had little power to do much of anything except succumb to his honorary alpha’s whim. He felt tears building up, his own helplessness making him desperate to appeal to the person his instinct viewed as having all the power. He keened pathetically, jerking back and forth on Pink’s lap. “Fuck, please f-fuck me.Uhnnffuck me…fuck me, p-pleassse.”   “Whatever you wish, my Steven.” Pink’s voice sounded uncharacteristically sultry and teasing to the human’s ears. It caused goosebumps to raise along his skin. He didn’t have time to really register those words, parse through their possessive, reverent phrasing, before Pink shoved them both down onto the bed and Steven’s mind went blank.   The human hardly registered that he was now on his back and the length inside him had sunk deeper from the change in position. Mindless, Steven was mewling, wordlessly begging for Pink to move, to get rough, to shove him into the mattress and have his way with him.   Despite all of these fantasies, the Gem started with slow, short thrusts, the unpracticed motion slowly rocking Steven’s limp body up and down. Even with the gradual start, the human was in paradise, wrapping his legs around Pink’s back and hooking his feet, arching himself into the thrusts, moaning and whining wantonly for more, more, more.   And Pink did not disappoint. With the permission, he sped up, deepening his thrusts and causing the human below him to squeal in delight. Pink’s cock was grazing over the spot inside Steven that had him writhing, gasping, clawing and gripping onto Pink’s shoulders for dear life.   “Ahhnn…! Oh, starsss, oh fu-uck!” Steven cried, his voice pitched high and cracking all over the place. In another situation, Steven might have been embarrassed by his reactions. Right now, though, even with all his squeaking and stuttering, the only thing he could focus on was Pink.   Pink grunted, the increasing tightness around his cock and the way Steven’s claws started digging marks into his shoulders distracting him from his mission. His Steven needed him. He shouldn’t be getting caught up in his own pleasure. He shouldn’t be focusing on the attractive way Steven’s body glistened with sweat and slick, or the beautiful sound of his voice giving out, or the way he twisted and writhed along with everything Pink did.   “H-harder… ahh… faster!” Steven begged breathlessly, tipping his head back and exposing his throat in a naturally submissive gesture. He was all but drowning, diving deeper an deeper into his instinct with every thrust. He mewled, “Ple-ease… Alpha, please!”   Instead of having the desired affect, Pink started slowing down gradually, until it came to little more than a snails pace, and then stopped completely. Confused and irritated, Steven looked back down and tried his best to focus on Pink’s face with his fuzzy, heady gaze.   “I am not an alpha.” Pink told him very matter-of-factly, his head slightly titled like a confused puppy. The human almost clicked his tongue in annoyance. Who cares about the semantics? This was the closest thing to an alpha Steven could get right now! He almost responded as such before Pink firmly corrected: “I am a Diamond.”   Steven’s eyes widened. Hearing that come out of his Gem’s mouth wasn’t necessarily something he was ready for. Of course, Pink wasn’t wrong about that. However, the connotation to that word was something Steven didn’t currently have the brain power to unpack. Not now, at least, not like this. Especially since, with all the disorienting hormones flooding Steven’s brain, the title that Pink had just claimed for himself was a little…or perhaps very… very hot.   “O-okay… Diamond.” Steven tested the word out on his tongue nervously, seeing how it tasted. He reached over with a shaking hand to caress Pink’s torso, his thumb just a few centimeters away from making contact with his gem…his diamond. Pink tipped his head down and watched this happen. His human was so close to touching the source of his power, the thing that normally binds them together, but he fell short at the last second. Steven’s hand retracted, gripping onto Pink’s forearm instead and leading him to place his palm on the center of his chest.   Pink met Steven’s eyes, the moment filled with electric tension.   “My Diamond…” Steven said, voice hoarse.   Pink’s breath stuttered at that. Something strange passed over him with those two words, filling him with a syrupy, warm rush. Hearing it come from Steven, watching the words pass his bruised, bitten lips, it made something buried deep in his gem start to come alive.   “I w-want you…” Steven was growing quite pleased with himself through the haze of his heat, seeing what affect he was having on his Gem. His lips were upturned, sly, as he slid the Gem’s hand up his own chest, past his collar, until finally bringing it to rest over his throat. “To ruin me… my Diamond.”   Pink’s eyes flashed, the stark white diamond-shaped pupils so clearly apparent for a split-second. It alarmed Steven only slightly, sensing a distinct change in his Gem. If he had known that getting a little formal would be the way to get Pink to fuck his brains out, he would have done it immediately.   It did in fact seem to do the trick: the Gem visibly relaxed with a confident grin, a strangely expressive look on him. He leaned down, bringing his lips mere inches away from the human’s, and then wrapped his fingers securely around Steven’s throat. The human gasped, lifting his chin to give Pink better access.   “Say it again,” Pink asked, demanded. He started rolling his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace, making Steven whine and grind down into them in an attempt to get more friction going. In a flash, Steven’s hip was caught by Pink’s free hand, immobilizing the human’s pelvis with an iron grip. “Say it.”   “My Diamond!” Steven sobbed, so desperate for that wonderful, satisfying friction that was just out of reach. He was so unbelievably horny for it, too, now that this stark change in Pink was illuminating fantasies he didn’t even know he had. His hands mindlessly went to try and pry off Pink’s hold on him, causing the Gem to instead catch both of Steven’s wrists in one hand and force them into the pillows above his head. He fully shoved Steven down, pressing his weight into him and subsequently pushing his length deeper inside, brushing up against the human’s sweet spot. Steven cried out, swept up by the power of someone so much stronger than him, forcibly held down, pinned by his wrists and neck and, of course, by the cock throbbing inside him.   “Keep going.” Pink prompted.   The human begged profusely, tears trickling down his cheeks and voice completely shot. “My Diamond! My Diamond, please, please fuck me hard a-and fast. C-claim me. Make me yours, fuck, please, my Diamond, I-I need it. I need you. Please, my Diamond!”   Pink kissed away one of his tears, a subtle sparkle of light bursting off of his cheek. “Good Steven.”   At that, Pink got straight to the point. He began pounding away into Steven with as much force as he knew the human could withstand, causing Steven to yell and moan and cry in a raw, ruined voice. The Gem panted and groaned with the way Steven’s entrance spasmed around him, admiring the hopelessly fucked-out expression on the human’s face and enjoying the pleading nonsense spilling from his mouth.   Steven was pretty much incoherent at this point, unable to control the babbling or the way his body continuously arched into Pink’s. Even with the little amount of leverage he had, Steven did his best to meet each thrust, pushing further and further to the bright precipice of white hot pleasure only Pink could help him reach.   Pink’s hot breath ghosted over Steven’s cheek until the Gem turned to join their lips in a kiss, his tongue quickly dominating Steven’s mouth and muffling his helpless cries. Pink’s hand still rested over Steven’s throat, feeling the rapid thumping of his pulse and the vibration of his voice beneath his fingers. The Gem decided to give an experimental squeeze, gentle so as not to cut off his human’s air supply. The reaction was instantaneous, Steven breaking the kiss to throw his head back and try to push into Pink’s grip.   “A-alpha…” the human gasped, his eyes shut and his brows knitted. He was clearly in a world of his own, far away enough to forget that the person laying their claim on him went by a different title.   Pink growled, relinquishing his grip around Steven’s throat to grab his jaw firmly, forcing the human’s head back down to face him with a rough jerk. Steven’s eyes blew wide open at the gesture, meeting Pink’s glowing gaze instantly, giving his alpha his full attention.   “That is not my name.” Pink snapped, causing Steven to flinch at the reprimanding tone. The Gem pulled his hips back, slipping out of the omega until only the head of his cock remained, squeezed tightly by Steven’s entrance as if his body was begging for it to stay put. Pink let go of his pinned wrists but pressed the human’s hips down onto the bed, giving him nowhere to go. “Now, what are you to call me?”   “My Diamond!” Steven corrected himself, strained and urgent. He then slurred and stuttered out a litany of apologies, trying his best to appease his Gem with the desperation of a dying man. “I’m s-sorry, my Diamond. Pleah-please don’t st-stop. Sorry, m’sorry.”   Pink smiled as he caressed Steven’s cheek, thumbing away a tear drop as it cascaded down. Admittedly, it was fun exercising this much power over the human, making him grovel and obey. Some part of Pink wanted to see how much further he could take it.   Feigning carelessness, he let go of Steven, pulling out of him completely with a pop and watching as the human’s face lit up with panic. Pink shuffled back on the bed, severing any contact with Steven and staying out of reach as the human weakly scrambled and tried to cling.   “N-no, my Diamond, please, don’t l-leave me.” Steven cried, attempting to crawl onto his front and get closer to Pink on the bed, a pathetic display that made Pink’s gem warm. “I-I’ll be good! Please don’t go! Please, my Diamond!”   Pink chuckled. The snarky confidence building in his stature and the natural dominance emanating from his diamond was causing his physical form to shift and change. A glow overtook his body, reforming him in this new, Diamond-like image. He was bigger, more imposing, a perfect picture of the strong, broad alpha Steven was so in need of.   Steven didn’t even seem to notice this change, too drunk from his heat and distressed by the abandonment to focus on how his Gem’s form now differed from his own.   “Pitiful little thing.” Pink lilted, his expression affectionate and cruelly delighted. Steven had made it close to him at this point, weakly clawing at his thigh and whimpering like a wounded animal. “Thinking you have any control over what your Diamond gives you. You must be put in your place.”   When Pink reached over and grabbed the back of Steven’s neck, his immediate response surprised the Gem. The human went completely limp, his hand sliding off of Pink’s leg and his knees and elbows giving out beneath him. His begging quieted, only soft, wordless whines escaping him now. Pink lifted him up from the prone position, watching curiously as the omega just dangled. He was basically a rag doll in Pink’s hold, and the Gem suddenly recalled a fuzzy memory from their time as a fusion. In a video they once watched privately, an alpha did this to a standing omega and it made her collapse onto the floor, presenting for him. It was a pressure point, some kind of trick to get an omega in heat to submit to their alpha.   Thrilled with this discovery, Pink grinned deviously. He threw Steven onto his front, pressing his face and chest into the covers while keeping his grip on the back of his neck firmly in place. He watched in amazement as the omega’s body naturally presented itself to him, his back arching beautifully with his knees spread wide.   The portrait Steven made was too inviting to resist, so, without further ado, Pink shuffled behind him and lined up his length to Steven’s slick entrance. The omega tensed slightly and whimpered in anticipation but otherwise stayed still, bound by Pink’s hold on him.   “Who am I?” Pink asked one final time.   “Mm-myyy Diamond…” Steven murmured past the covers his face was being pressed into, tears of joy and relief soaking into them. His Diamond wasn’t abandoning him. His Diamond was right here, right about give Steven exactly what he needed.   “Good boy.” Pink praised before slamming into Steven to the hilt and resuming a fast, punishing pace.   The omega keened loudly and drooled, his eyes rolling all the way back into his head. This new position made every single one of Pink’s thrusts hit his sweet spot with dead accuracy. He would have been thrashing, shrieking, tearing into the pillows if it weren’t for the hand on the back of his neck subduing him. It was like he had been sent into a totally different headspace, one where he was only half-aware of what was going on. He wasn’t Steven anymore, just an omega under the control of his alpha Diamond, vulnerable and willing, relying on his Diamond to take care of everything while all he had to do was submit.   Pink was whispering sweet nothings as he pounded the omega beneath him, however, they all pretty much fell on deaf ears. All Steven could register was the immense pressure building in his gut, and every move Pink made brought him closer and closer to his ultimate climax.   “Ahhhn! Ahhhn! Na-aahh!” Steven’s moans continually rose in pitch, in volume, as white hot pleasure bloomed in his belly. His instinct became increasingly more vocal, more bold. It was telling him exactly what he needed, and he didn’t waste time letting his Diamond know as well. “Nuhhh…Knot…kn-knot! Pluh-p-pleeease, give it-t-to meee… knuh-knot me…Knot me!”   Pink listened to his human beg, watching him attempt to fight the paralysis he instilled with tiny little jerks and spasms. He knew what the omega needed, remembering what a knot was from the videos they’ve watched. Even though Pink hadn’t realized it at first, the human had given him the sole purpose of mating with him the moment he had ripped them apart. It was Pink’s mission, his way to help Steven through this. So what, if he ended up having a little fun in the process?   Now, however, it came down to knotting him, finishing this and giving Steven a reprieve from the intense, all encompassing heat that had long been melting his brain and boiling his blood. Luckily for Steven, Pink could shapeshift, and even though he wasn’t an actual alpha, he was able to augment his form in order to take the place of one.   Anything for his human.   Pink rocked deep into him, punching harsh, guttural moans out of Steven as he helplessly took the force. Pink leaned down until his mouth was next to the human’s ear, letting his breath ghost over it in a hushed voice.   “I will always give you what you need, my Steven.”   At that, the Gem began shapeshifting his length into what his human required. He had it swell gradually, letting Steven feel the burn of friction inside him grow and grow, and listened to him scream for Pink in frantic ecstasy. He was almost able to meet his thrusts with what little movement he was allowed, so desperate to finally be knotted, to feel the release of pressure and flood of hormones take over his entire body.   There was just one single, tiny thing missing, though.   This time, Steven’s mouth was way ahead of his brain, unable to think about any potential consequences, far too enraptured by the heat of the moment.   “Buh-b-bite… bite me…” the omega panted, begged, looking up at his Diamond pleadingly, meeting his eyes as best as he could from this difficult angle. He wanted his Diamond to mate him, and biting is what mates do, right? Fuck, knot, bite… these were all of the things Steven’s instincts were screaming for. “Ple-ease, bite me, c-claim me…”   Seeing Steven so debauched, so helplessly needy for him, gazing up at him with those adoring, sweet brown eyes… well, how could Pink possibly resist him?   The Diamond gave in, letting go of the omega’s pressure point in favor of wrapping his hand around his torso and pulling him flush against his chest. Steven cried out and sprawled, now free to move of his own accord. He used the opportunity to clutch the arm secured around him, digging his claws in and rocking in tandem with Pink’s increasingly sloppy thrusts. When the Diamond’s mouth latched onto where Steven’s neck meets his shoulder, he gasped, arching into it. When the Diamond sunk his teeth into the flesh deep enough to draw blood, Steven screamed, in equal parts pain and pleasure.   The dam finally broke. With the bite, Steven came harder than he thought possible, his vision whiting out for several seconds and his mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Pink kept going, fucking Steven through his orgasm and overwhelming the poor omega as he sobbed in devastating ecstasy. Soon enough, Pink’s pseudo-knot finally caught, making the myriad of sensations Steven was already being assaulted with somehow escalate to new heights. He was so full, so complete, and he sagged against his Diamond when his body simply couldn’t withstand the intensity any longer.   Pink was growling into the bite wound as he came as well, letting all of that built up tension release deep inside the omega in several quick bursts. Releasing Steven from his jaws, he licked away the blood but neglected to heal the actual wound. He would do it if Steven asked him to. For now, though, he wanted it to remain.   Steven was jolting hard in Pink’s grasp, his whole body trembling finely but twitching every time another shockwave passed over him, or when Pink shifted even a millimeter. The omegas breath stuttered even as he tried to slow his panting and breathe deeply, the exhaustion quickly catching up with him. Steven felt the heat slowly drain from his body, being replaced by oversensitivity and soreness.   Pink held the human securely on his lap as he shook through the aftermath of it all, his cock still seated deep inside him. Slightly curious, the Gem decided to test the strength of their physical bond by very gently attempting to pull out. Steven cried out in obvious pain, reaching behind him and gripping onto Pink’s thighs to try and stop him from moving an inch.   “Don’t do that!” Steven wailed, his entire body rippling in response to the minuscule movement Pink had made. He was extremely sensitive right now, and any action that was pleasurable to him before now registered as painful. He pouted miserably. “It hurts. P-please just stay still!”   “Sorry, sorry,” Pink murmured, kissing along Steven’s shoulders apologetically.   Steven shivered at the feeling, whimpering as his aftercare needs started making themselves more apparent, his post-orgasm haze continuing to fade. “H-hold me tighter… please.”   Pink fully embraced the smaller human, wrapping his arms over his shoulders, encompassing him in his body heat and squeezing him tight. Steven sighed, the pressure of his Gem’s body encasing him serving as a huge comfort.   Several minutes passed of them in this position, stock still aside from Steven’s shaking and breathing. Pink was absolutely content to give Steven all the time he needed to recover. Eventually, though, Steven’s eyes fell shut and his head lolled. He blinked, realizing how much he really needed to be horizontal right now.   “Could you lay us down?” Steven asked meekly, knowing it was going against what he had just begged Pink not to do, “A-as gentle as you can?”   Pink, silent, just nodded. He retracted one of his arms, using it to support their combined weight as he slowly lowered them onto their sides. Steven tensed and whimpered as they went, crying out when their hips shifted as they landed on the bed and had to adjust slightly.   “Are you alright?” Pink whispered, feeling guilty for unintentionally harming the human again.   Steven sniffled. “Mmhmm. It’s okay. I-I’m okay.”   The human burrowed his head into the pillow and sighed, ready to fall asleep and not wake up for at least the next six years. That is, until something suddenly occurred to him. He cracked his eyes open, lifting one of his hands to touch the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. He hissed, the sting from the fresh bite mark there lighting up as he grazed over it.   …Oh, fuck.   “Y-you bit me?” Steven asked, hushed with shock.   Pink was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. “You asked me to.”   Steven snapped his scandalized mouth shut.   Oh… he thought.   Oh shit.   Yeah, he definitely remembers saying that now.   He dropped his arm back to the bed.   “Fuck. Well, that’s not good.”   “Why not?” Pink asked innocently.   “What do you mean, why not?” Steven replied incredulously, and it would have been more impactful if his voice wasn’t so scratchy and hoarse. “Because you’re my gem and you mated me. You claimed me as your bonded mate.”   “I thought that was what you wanted.” Pink argued, his voice much more calm than Steven’s but still pinched with a hint of defensiveness. “That was all you kept saying. ‘Claim me. Knot me. Bite me.’”   Steven blushed brightly, the conviction that he felt slowly fading away until it was replaced by sheepishness.   “Really?“   “Yes.”   “…Geez.”   “Was this not true?” Pink interrogated, making Steven wince. “Did you not want me to mate with you?”   Steven sucked in a breath. He wanted to protest, to tell Pink there was no way he would want to mate with his Gem. Are you kidding? But… he couldn’t. His emotions were too raw, too real, and no matter how much he wanted to mask them, he couldn’t hide right now. Not from him.   “N-no, it–… I did. Want it.” He bit out.   Pink snickered slightly, his breath tickling the back of Steven’s neck. “I thought so.”   Slowly, gradually, Steven felt the constriction keeping Pink’s knot locked inside him finally release. He sighed in relief.   “You, uh… you can pull it out now.”   Pink looked down at where their bodies were still joined. “Oh.”   Steven grit his teeth as he felt Pink pull out, the general discomfort bothering him more than any actual pain. He whimpered when the Gem finally pulled himself free, the sudden emptiness chilling him to his core and making a strange, distant ache throb inside his chest. In response to the sudden negative feelings he didn’t quite understand, Steven twisted over to face Pink and immediately clung to him. He buried his face in his chest, wrapped his arms around his sides, tangled their legs, and snuggled into the other’s warm, glowing form.   “D-don’t leave me.” Steven’s tone was vulnerable, muffled and slightly tearful. His breath hiccuped, and he bit his lip hard. He was crying all of the sudden, not truly understanding why it came on so strong or what it was even about. He was a mess of conflicting emotions and hormones, and he just wanted to be held. To feel loved. To be close to someone. He felt completely ridiculous for it. Of course, he would be one to break down and cry and be all needy after having sex. Still, he couldn’t help but plead with his Gem: “Please just… don’t l-leave me alone. I-I don’t wanna be alone anymore. I don’t wanna be alone.”   Pink was shocked by the sudden mood swing but cradled Steven all the same, only wanting offer to him comfort and soothe his rampant emotions.   “Oh, my sweet Steven…” Pink cooed, rubbing the human’s back with one hand and brushing through his curls with the other.   Steven peeked up at him, wet eyes looking at him expectantly, reverently, like Pink was the only one in the world that mattered to him.   “We will never be alone.”   Steven sniffled, smiling shyly as he burrowed his head back into Pink’s chest. The tears he’d been shedding morphed into those of joy and relief. Rightfully exhausted, Steven eventually, finally fell asleep, cuddled up into Pink’s arms.   Pink idly traced a finger along the tender flesh surrounding the fresh bite wound, not getting close enough to it for Steven to feel the sting and be woken up. The Gem smirked, admiring the way his human looked with his Diamond’s mark on him.   ‘We will never be alone.’   It was true. …Pink had made sure of it.  

"This is all your fault, England." France was the first to speak. England, who'd been staring at America with an odd, fixed intensity, snapped his head up and glared. "I beg your pardon?" "It is entirely to your blame! You were the one who had given him those damn Puritans. Look how they have retarded his development!" England sputtered, but to everyone's surprise he calmed down. Completely straight-faced - aside from a wicked gleam in his green eyes - he actually said, "You're right, France." France immediately felt an urge to check if England was ill, delirious perhaps. "It is entirely my responsibility," England went on. "I shall now take it upon myself to bring America's sexual education up to date." "....what?" America gurgled. France was already shaking his head. "Non, non, Angleterre," he purred, his accent deliberately thickening. "What young America needs is guidance from someone who is actually skilled in the arts of the bedroom." "France is right!" China said, and observers wondered how often that phrase was going to be used today. "And my long and storied history of four thousand years obviously qualifies ...." "Excuse me, China-san," Japan interrupted. "But I believe in this case, I am the more qualified. I already have several helpful guides to sexual intercourse, produced over a wide variety of multimedia channels, ones I'm sure America-san will find suitable to his needs....I have already given him similar items, so...." Italy pushed past them to kneel beside America, beaming, German being pulled along behind him. "Americaaaaa~ why didn't you tell us? Sex is a very awesome thing, like pasta, only it's not food but like the equivalent of pasta in your pants, and Germany and I will be glad to help you...." "No, I think not," England interrupted, moving closer to America protectively. "I don't think I want Germany's dogs involved in my America's sexual education....and we all know that's how it would end up, you told us yourself, Italy." "He's not yours anymore, England!" Spain protested. Japan was politely but acidly telling Korea and China that any 'guides to sexual intercourse' they would produce were only cheap, inferior copies of his own; France was eying Canada - who was still sitting beside his brother's head, stroking his hair gently - and obviously plotting; India was reminding everyone she owned the Kama Sutra, the concept of tantric sex, and the ropes tying America up; Mexico and the countries of South and Central America were discussing how to propose a "Let's Have A Pan-American Orgy You Other Continents Keep Out of It" initiative; Switzerland was smiling widely as he discovered that the gun that had been in America's back holster was a Swiss-made Sig; and Lovino was simultaneously managing the betting action among the observers while keeping an eye on Spain. The observers were munching, video-taping, discussing excitedly, having their own sexual liasions underneath tables....in short, it was chaos. America's voice, loud, brought the room to a standstill. "Are you all really arguing over who gets to lecture me about sex-ed? Jeez! I know you guys think my school-system sucks, but really..." There was a collective twitch about yet another example of America's density, which approached in size and severity the status of a black hole, and that was it. England couldn't take it anymore. He swung himself over America's waist, straddled him, hauled him up by the shoulders, and kissed him hotly. America gasped, his eyes widening, and panted for breath as England released him - only to gasp again as his head was wrenched to the side and Canada sealed their mouths together. Unseen hands - unseen because Canada's head was blocking his view, and his eyes kept wanting to slide closed, began to tug at his jeans. When Canada broke for breath, America's head was turned again, more gently this time, and France began laying soft kisses all over his face. America squirmed. There were a few answering gasps and someone tugged on his hair. The observers licked their lips, almost simultaneously, and began reassessing their chances. They couldn't win America one-on-one, but perhaps joining in the orgy now beginning in the center of the chamber was a possibility... It was then, while America was tied up and helpless and the other countries either watched hungrily or molested him, that the Bosses walked in to collect their Nations.   ***  There was another moment of charged silence, in a day that seemed full of them. The Bosses gaped at their Nations. The Nations gaped back at their Bosses. America's Boss was the first to speak. "...are you gang-raping my country?" he asked, blankly, politely, his hands making involuntary little twitches. The other Bosses began to sweat as their Nations couldn't find words to even begin to describe what was going on. Visions of an America who felt violated - and they all knew what happened when America felt it had been violated - danced in their mind, along with visions of Tomahawk missiles, airborne troops being dropped into their cities, US Naval carriers sailing into their harbors with decks packed full of fighter aircraft, populaces being forced to watch American cable television. "Nyet," Russia finally answered, which was sadly undermined by the fact that he was kneeling between America's spread legs and he was pulling down America's pants, exposing boxers dotted with little X-Wings and TIE fighters. "Then why is he tied up, and...and.... why are you stripping him, and why are you...." America’s Boss tried to find an act he could describe decently, couldn't, began to shake. "Boss..." America said, plaintively, his eyes big and blue and very shiny. No one ever found out what he was going to say, because America's Boss began yelling, American Secret Service began streaming in and pointing guns at everyone, which prompted the other security details to start getting antsy, and then the bosses of Poland began to shriek shrilly as they discovered their Nation in the middle of sex with Lithuania. When it was over, half-naked America was standing, rather dazed-looking, behind his shorter Boss, who glared at the other countries like an overprotective father (England was visibly miffed, had been stepped on by America's boss while he was collecting Alfred, and had to be held back by his Prime Minister) and the Secret Service were asking people for America's clothes. They found nothing. (Canada would later drop the leather jacket off - somehow no one would notice him doing so.) America was shooed away in the hubbub, while no one was looking, somehow. His President stayed a while longer to yell at everyone, but everyone was so busy yelling/questioning/looking for their own Nations that no one answered, and then he left too. It was an altogether very eventful day. *** Original AN: thanks for all the nice reactions. I actually have no idea who ought to take his virginity, so...heh. What would you guys do if this was the last part?   2019 note: I really had been pondering ending the fill here originally. Instead it became....something else. 

Jaime didn’t say much to his friends on the phone. They knew there was big trouble before they bounded into the barn ready for war. He decided on brutal honesty and they would hear it as Claire heard it. Angus was on his feet sending the chair into the wall. His eyes were huge with fury. Rupert was taking deep breaths with his hand on his chest. “Why couldn’t this fight be with a man!” Angus shouted. Jaime waited for them to settle down and continued with Laoghaire’s visit to the barn. Both men were on their feet and Jaime asked them to please sit. “We have to make a plan before Claire is hurt or the barn burns down with the horses in it.” Rupert asked why she hadn’t been arrested yet. “She was no longer at the Princess when Phoenix PD arrived to arrest her. She was not at her home when Mesa PD came to arrest her. The Mesa officer I’ve been workin with stays in contact, thank Christ, or I might lose my mind. Because of the previous attempt and her threat to have Claire killed they are posting officers to watch her house until she is caught. It won’t be long now.” Jaime let out a long exhausted breath. Rupert and Angus took their seats as the gravety of the threat became crystal clear in their heads. Claire paced in front of Jag’s stall. He watched her but after several minutes he kicked the bars and Claire almost jumped out of her skin. “Oh, sorry. I bet that’s irritating to watch someone pace.” She had to do something or lose her mind. She left a note for Jaime on the board. ‘Checking Fred and Ginger, back soon’. Claire grabbed two apples from the supply she kept in the tack room and walked to the back pasture again. Once inside she sat on the fence facing the sunrise. Now that she was alone there was no stopping the tears which were soon sobs. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and cried so hard it brought Ginger to her. She handed her an apple but could not speak. Fred bumped her arm on the other side and looked directly into her eyes. Claire thought, not for the first time, that somehow he knew she was hurting. She handed him an apple. Ginger wandered away to eat grass but Fred continued to bump her arm until she turned around facing him. She jumped off the fence and rubbed his belly until her arms were sore. “I’m okay Fred. Just needed to get that out.” Rather than go back to the barn she walked to the house to let pup out. She grabbed bagels and cream cheese and a couple knives for the guys. Back at the keypad she looked around for Pup and saw him in her peripheral vision running full speed for the barn. She was too far to hear him hup but she saw his mouth move like he was barking. He was jumping up to see Jag over the half door when she heard it. Pup barked and then ran under a bush with his tail between his legs. Claire punched the numbers and ran toward the barn. Jag had lowered his head so Pup could lick him then he ran for Claire. He had so much energy she just sat down on the grass until he barreled into her. He circled her sniffing and poked his nose in her chest, stomach, armpits, and hair, finally pulling a giggle out of her. She put her hands up in surrender. Odd behavior from this little dog, well, not so little anymore. Why hightail it to Jag’s half-door and run back? “It’s because you are a silly pooch in love with a horse, who is a boy same as you. Just sayin.” Claire and Pup walked back to the barn with the bagels. She could see her trailer as she walked. She could be packed, lease broken, horses loaded, and headed somewhere far from here by noon. She could ditch her cell phone and never have to speak to Jamie Fraser again. Colorado didn’t have a six-month wait for transfer of medical license. She could be in an operating room by next month. Colorado did not have the heat and definitely had better horse shows. Colorado had the Rocky Mountains and amazing small towns, like Loveland, where she attended a conference. She loved it there. She could be headed there by noon. She felt hot tears again, then the sobs. Pup hupped at her, obviously worried, and another bark came out scaring the shit out of him. He sat on his tail and pressed against her leg shaking and looking around. Claire wiped tears away and looked down at him. She felt him shake and started laughing. He was still looking around for the bigger dog that barked at him. Claire dropped to her knees and hugged him. She was sobbing and laughing at the same time. “That was you who barked Pup and you’ll do it again, many times. Don’t be scared. He looked up at her and licked her face. Somehow he knew he had much to be scared of right now. Pup planted his butt on the road and refused to get up or even look at Claire. He reminded her of a two-year old that put his blanket over his head because it was safe under there. How could he not feel the shift in the energy. Dog’s were amazingly perceptive. Claire called Jaime’s cell. “I am sorry to interrupt but Pup is sitting in the middle of the road and won’t get up. He’s scared of something I think. Anyway, you can whistle for him?” Before a minute passed they heard Jaime’s distinctive whistle and Pup’s head whipped in his direction. Claire was calling him and trying everything she knew to get him up. Pup just stared at Jaime but wouldn’t get up. Claire tried to pick him up but his body went limp and he was just too heavy. She watched the road in both directions praying a car would not be barreling up on them. “Well, Laddie, ye got yer butt stuck to the road did ye?” Jamie saw his ears pressed back against his head and the tail tucked tightly between his legs. “Looks like the lad got a snoot-full of somethin that scared him to the marrow.” He scooped Pup into his arms and carried him to the soft grass. Claire watched Jaime drop to his back and lay quietly while Pup walked a few steps, tail tucked and head down. She was so grateful that Jaime would take the time to lay in the grass when air-raid sirens were going off in his world. “Maybe we can get ye mistress to join us?” Jaime looked in Claire’s eyes and his heart nearly stopped. He held his arm out to her smiling but his mind was in a meltdown. No, no, no, Sassenach, don’t run, don’t leave. Sweet Jesus I can see what yer thinkin and ye will tear my heart out if ye do this. He wanted to beg her and promise her everything. Claire laid down and put her arm around his waist. Pup walked around them and the tip of his tail was moving back and forth but still tucked between his legs. The danger was still somewhere close by. He could feel it. “Sassenach. Dogs are perceptive, more than we give them credit for, I know it. Pup is afraid of what ye were thinking right before he sat down.” Jaime lowered his voice, “I’m afraid of what ye were thinkin too mo chridhe. Don’t go Claire, please don’t run. I’ll spend the rest of my days lookin for ye, be sure of that. I won’t ever stop lookin for ye love.” Claire was full of fear and in the throws of fight or flight. Laoghaire’s taunting played on an endless loop in her head. They were sent to kill her in the vilest way humanly possible. She felt Jaime under her arm and hand. He was solid, and real, and promising to protect her. She heard his honesty. He would turn his back on the business, horses, and clients and drive down unknown highways looking for her. She had not put his loss into the equation. If she ran away, Angus and Rupert would lose Jaime and the life they have built here. What would happen to Jag if she ran out on him? He could end up under one of those sadistic Olympians or worse. She saw the domino blocks crash into one another as the interconnected lines all fell. That’s what would happen if she ran away. Like it or not she was a part of something bigger than her. Like a family. Her eyes closed against big tears and she felt them come in sobs that gripped her stomach and she clung to Jaime. She felt his strong arms come around her. “Oh God, my God Jaime. I could never, would never leave you.” As her body shook with tears her mind cleared and she understood the team was like a family. She would rather fight to the death than leave them. “I’m sorry Jaime. Can you forgive me for thinking such selfish things? I love you too much to leave no matter what the threat is. I love all of you too much. Please say you forgive me!” Jaime held her close and kissed the top of her head. “There’s nothin to forgive, ye ken?” She looked up at him, “what?” Jaime smiled when he looked in her eyes. He saw her clarity and resolve. Thank Christ, he thought. Claire needed forgiveness, absolution for considering something devastating to those who loved her. “Ye need to forgive the Laddie for sittin in the road and tryin to kill ye.” Claire looked incredulous, “that’s not why he sat down. He was so scared he couldn’t move. There is nothing to forgive!” As the words tumbled out of her mouth her mind saw the parallel. She jumped on top of Jaime hearing him grunt before she kissed him everywhere she found skin. Jaime was laughing and making her work for every landing. He held her face and said, “every fiber and cell in me thanks ye Claire. I gave ye my heart and when survival instincts were screamin at ye to run, ye hunkered down and protected it.” He kissed her with all the love and gratitude he felt and she did the same. They walked back to the barn with Pup on their heals, wagging his tail and jumping happily at bugs in the air, real or imagined. Claire spoke to Rupert and Angus and assured them she was fine and on board for the show next weekend. She smiled with anticipation. They showed her the board where the three of them were listed in the calendar. “We take turns sleepin here until that cu… sorry lass, that bitch is caught. Ye ken? Jaime’s gonna hire a security guard for next weekend and I’m stayin here to watch over everything.” Claire’s head jerked up, “what?” Claire felt Rupert’s sacrifice and knew his absence would be felt. “Who will I have to bump into Rupert?” He smiled and looked at his shoes. “We’ve got ye lass.” Claire smiled at him, “I know you do and I’m grateful Rupert.” He blushed fiercely at her heartfelt words. Angus walked up behind them, “party at two o’clock” he said to Rupert. “You guys have a party… in the middle of the day?” Claire could not imagine anything so important that both of them would leave. “Jaime too,” Angus said walking to the arena. Claire could not believe her ears. Jaime did not mention going to a party and no one invited her. Probably nothing. She poked her head into Jaime’s office before going back to the house. “I’ll be here and ready with Jag at two-thirty.” She searched his eyes and saw nothing. He kissed her and crushed her to him. “See ya then Sassenach.” Jaime went back to his chair and bent over his ledgers. Claire decided he must not be going to this party she wasn’t invited to. Her feelings were a little hurt from being left out but she pushed on calling for Pup. Claire’s body and mind were exhausted. She laid down on Jaime’s bed and pushed her nose into his pillow breathing in his smell. Fatigue pulled at her and she surrendered to it. In what seemed like just one minute she heard and felt her phone vibrating to pull her back to consciousness. It took great effort to open her eyes and she felt the deep fatigue when she swung her legs to the floor. She considered an early dinner of comfort food, like a southern recipe, designed to knock everyone unconscious within thirty minutes of eating the meal. She smiled at that thought. Only three rides to go before the show. She dragged her body back to the barn. Claire walked down the main aisle and felt weird energy. She waved to people she knew and decided they all seemed odd. What the hell is wrong with everyone? She wondered. She carried her brush bucket into Jags stall and was assaulted by his nose sniffing for treats. She wondered if the guys were at a party she wasn’t invited to. She pulled out a curry comb and told Jag to mind his manners. “Ah, Claire?” She was bent over picking a rear hoof and looked behind her. “What’s up Rupert?” She lowered the leg at the weird sound of his voice. “Jaime asked me to give this to ye.” Claire looked at his cheeks blushing like a rose. He feels guilty for not taking me to the party, she thought. Claire opened the large envelope and pulled out a single piece of paper. She scanned it quickly and asked Rupert what she should do with this. He was nearly coming apart with excitement when he pointed to the registered name of a horse. His smile was huge. Claire read the name, “The Sassenach’s Jag, Rupert what is this?” He pointed at the owner’s line. ‘Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp’. Her eyes jerked up at Rupert who was now bouncing on his toes with delight. Claire pointed at Jag, “he’s…” Rupert nodded his head. Claire was feeling dizzy and her heart was ramming in her chest. With wide eyes she read the document title, ‘Transfer of ownership’ and saw his new registered name, ‘The Sassenach’s Jag’. When Claire’s brain finally allowed her to accept what was right in front of her, she screamed at Rupert, “he gave me Jag!” Claire threw her arms around Rupert and hugged him tight, then she bounded out of the stall and saw Jaime. He was smiling. Claire leaped into his arms and squeezed his neck. “You gave me Jag!” said through tears of incredulous joy that were streaming down her face. Claire became aware of all the people standing around them. She looked at each one of them, “you all knew about this?” All heads were nodding. “Oh! Best surprise ever!” She blushed looking at the people who came for her ‘party’. “I love you guys. And I suppose it’s no secret that I love this man.” The girls giggled. Two members of the Pony club walked toward her. They dropped something metal in her hand and said congratulations. Claire held a beautiful shiny brass saddle tag “The Sassenach’s Jag.” Claire hugged them both with renewed happy tears. She turned around and Angus put another one in her hand, “from me and the big dummy.” Rupert’s smile fell off and he glowered at his friend. It was a halter tag, “The Sassenach’s Jag.” Her arms flew around both their necks and she kissed them on the cheek. Jag was kicking his bars after watching all the excitement. Everybody laughed at his curious expression. Claire held his head and kissed him scratching his face. When she looked up Jaime was dropping the new nameplate into the holder on the front of the stall. ‘The Sassenach’s Jag, Owner: Claire Beauchamp.’ She put her arms around his waist and her head next to his heart. “I don’t have the words I need. They are all too small.” She smiled up at him and her eyes sparkled like diamonds.

5 months ago.   Magnus smiled, looking at the crowd, at the swirling bodies moving in time with the music. Pandemonium was packed, just like Magnus liked because this was just the golden opportunity to meet his next lover for the night. There was no shame in thinking like that, he liked sex, he enjoyed it and he was adamant in looking for someone that was like him. But first— "I need to dance," Magnus shouted, still looking at the crowd, "get the blood pumping. Get in the mood." This time, Magnus turned around just in time to see Catarina rolling her eyes and waving at the bar. Her plans were to get hammered and Magnus didn't judge. Of course, he didn't. He took his time, feeling the heat of the place, the music reverberating in his ears. He could already feel sweat coating his back, the warm in his belly at the thought of just having a good time and the possibilities of what could happen next. Magnus was more than thrilled. He started slow, moving his hips this and that way in sync with the music, arching his back and rolling his head, beads of sweat rolling down his neck. This, this was what he loved. Feeling everyone's heated look on him, the want but no one really brave enough to make a move. Magnus smirked, keeping his eyes closed. The chase and heated looks were the best parts. The teasing. He could keep it all night if he wanted to. "Moving like that," someone said right in his ear, "it should be criminal, Magnus." And right after that, he felt two hands gripping his hips and pulling him closer to another body, to another wide chest. Magnus smirked even more. He knew that voice, hearing it every day in class had him attune with this person. Both being so competitive in class, well, Magnus had his ears trained whenever it was Alexander talking just so he could debunk his answers. "So, you dance now, Alexander?" he asked and even thought the music was loud, Magnus knew Alec could hear him. Somehow, Alec pulled him even closer and Magnus went easily, loving the way Alec's hands trailed around his waist. Magnus threw his head back, giving Alec enough space make himself home in Magnus' neck if he wanted to. "–'Cause it feels like we're just too close, too close for comfort. How can I be your friend when I wanna be your lover?–" Magnus felt Alec shrugged, even when half of his mind was so focused on the way Alec was rolling his hips so deliciously behind him. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the club being so dark and had this air of intimacy, or maybe Magnus was just horny but god, he never wanted this to end. "I can dance if want to," Alec finally said against Magnus ear, but his voice sounded restrained. Just like Magnus, he was holding himself back and Magnus wanted anything but that. "–I want you. I want you–" Before Magnus could reply, he felt Alec trailing down his neck, brushing his lips on his pulse point, sending shivers down his spine. Magnus gasped loudly, not caring that someone near could hear him. He was too busy feeling Alec's hands traveling up and down his torso; he placed one his hands on Magnus' neck but didn't squeeze or held it softly, just the amount of pressure for Magnus to feel its weight, of what Alec was capable of and fuck if Magnus wanted more.  Alec huffed; his breath warm on Magnus' ear. "You like that, don't you?" this time, he tightened his hold just a little and Magnus felt like dying for how good it felt; he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. "Can't believe you hide all of this with your cocky temper and sassy comments." "That's not for anyone to see, Alexander," Magnus replied, the perfect opportunity to be sassy and cocky, even when he was at his mercy. Magnus never thought that he would end up his night dancing with Alexander Lightwood, but he was definitely not complaining. In fact, it seemed fitting that dancing was a competition between them too. But Magnus had no opportunity to voice all of this because the hand that was holding his hip just moved closer to his crotch and Magnus held his breath, his heart hammering behind his chest and that simmering warmth he's been feeling, was inching closer to a burning heat. The music changed. But Alec's plans to kill him with his teasing were all the same. “–Make a request, put in a favor. Just tell me yes, tell me you won't go–" Alec pushed his hips forward, giving Magnus the golden opportunity to feel the outline of his cock and he wanted more, more— "Tell me, Magnus." Deft fingers started trailing down oh so slowly down Magnus' cock. Stroking him, slowly but with a purpose, knowing where this was headed. Teasing, driving Magnus crazy. He sucked on a breath. "What do you want?" Same deft fingers cupped his cock just so, stealing his breath and leaving Magnus panting. He didn't squeeze or stroke him, nothing. Alec left his hand there, just holding, like he wanted to feel Magnus growing cock and from how it felt, it was getting increasingly tight in his pants. "Please," he whimpered, chest heaving. Not enough air around them. Instead of replying, Alec trailed his lips and bit down hard enough to leave a mark. A moan escaped his lips again, but Magnus didn't care if it was loud, he wanted more. He wanted Alec to stop this teasing, to move his hand and do something. Magnus wanted less dancing, more fucking. "Please what, Magnus?" Alec asked again, as if he didn't know what he was doing to Magnus last thread of sanity. Magnus shook his head; he wasn't going to beg. Just one time was enough, and he wasn't like that— Alec cupped his cock again and this time he squeezed, his thumb brushing just the side of it.  "– I wanna fuck you, I wanna fuck you right. I want you only thinkin' 'bout me when you're up at night." Without stopping the roll of his hips, Alec kept his hands where they were, holding Magnus by his neck and teasing him until insanity with his hand on his cock. Lips kept brushing the side of neck, leaving kisses at its wake and Magnus was desperate. "Stop teasing me and fuck me already." Magnus needed to feel those hands everywhere right about now because he was getting blue balls by this unnecessary teasing and foreplay and— "Bathroom. Now." And just like he came, Alec was gone, and Magnus found himself missing those hands on him. He finally turned around just in time to see Alec's retreating form disappearing down the dark hallway that lead to the bathrooms. He was panting and hard. So hard he would combust at any given brush of fingers. How dare him? How dared Alec to touch him like that and then leave? Magnus was the one to give orders, not the other way around. Alec would hear a piece of his mind. How dare he, how dare him— He busted that door so hard it bounced back with the wall behind it, but it was meaningless compared to his task at hand: get Alec inside him. "How dare you leaving me standing there like that?" All horny and wanting was left unsaid. Alec smirked at him, leaning against the sink. But his gaze was traveling up and down Magnus' body, not being subtle about it. His eyes left that hazel hue a while ago and were instead dark with desire. Magnus took his time too, to check him out. Alec wasn't one to wear over-the-top clothes, his wardrobe was very simple but tonight Magnus had the chance to see this man in a black tank top, showing off his biceps, black skinny jeans that looked like were painted on him and boots. A combination that, in other circumstances, would make Magnus reconsider this whole ordeal but right at that moment, the sight of his arms alone almost brought him to his knees.  Magnus wanted him just as much as Alec wanted him back He straightened up and in two purposeful steps, he was right in front of Magnus, grabbing him by his hips muttering a "come here" before they met halfway for a searing kiss; even knowing what was coming, it didn’t stop Magnus for gasping in surprise, something that Alexander very much took advantage of. The kiss was filthy and bruising and deep. Alec thrust his tongue into Magnus’ mouth while Alec’s hands danced around Magnus’ lower back and skittering down until he had his hands full with Magnus’ ass and squeezed, coaxing another moan from Magnus. God, Magnus wanted this, wanted this man who was pretty much fucking his mouth with the way he was moving his tongue and the way he would lick his lips and nibble at his bottom lip and Magnus was ready to turn into much at this point. When the lack of breath became unbearable, they parted but not before Alec bit down his bottom lip again one last time for good measure. Magnus didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know he was wrecked and completely hard and desperate. His lips were swollen, that was for sure but that was the least of his concerns. Alec tugged him to the nearest stall and perhaps Magnus wasn’t the only one desperate in this bathroom. He wasn’t completely inside when Alec tugged him hard until he back was hitting the wall, the door closing next to him; Magnus was prepping another sassy remark when Alexander was on him again, hungry hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, lips biting Magnus’ neck and he was dizzy, his mind completely blank, only focusing on those hands keeping Magnus in place by his waist. “When you're all dressed, send me that text. Tell me that you want me now. Tell me what you really need.” Magnus gasped again when Alec’s hand started to work over his dick, his other hand keeping him firmly in place even though he only wanted more friction, for Alec to undress him and hold him and more, more, more. “This. Off,” Alec said while tugging at Magnus’ pants. And Magnus was happy to comply, stripping down his pants. Only his pants and while moving the offending garment away, he heard Alec sucking in a breath “You’re commando.” Magnus smirked, looking up at Alec even though Alec was clearly focused on something else. “Like what you see?” Alec nodded. “Fuck yes.” And that was enough of admission for Alec to get his hands back on Magnus again and his mouth on his too and Magnus couldn’t wait. Teeth met tongue and swollen lips; Magnus was delirious at this point and he just needed more, he just needed Alec to touch him like he was starved for it. Faintly, he heard the rustling of clothes; Alec was taking his off. Alec thrust forward, meeting Magnus halfway there. That first contact, skin on skin, the roll of hips against Magnus’, it was delicious, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more, both of them did. “Fuck me,” Magnus said, between ragged breaths. Alec dropped his hands to hook behind Magnus’ thighs and lifted him so easily, his back clashing against the wall and another unbidden moan escaped his lips when his cock was pressed against Alec’s, letting Magnus feel the length of his cock and fuck, he couldn’t wait to have it inside him right about fucking now. Alec’s hands were on Magnus’ ass again, kneading and spreading him. Back to teasing. Magnus threw his head back and took that moment to enjoy himself, enjoy the strong body between his legs, the drag of Alec’s cock over his, the hot puffs of breath against his neck. Magnus loved this. The lower Alec went, the whimpers and moans from Magnus became louder until Alec was brushing the very edge of his hole. Alec hummed appreciatively. “Already naked and ready for me.” And then he pushed two fingers inside him without any warning. “Love that in a man.” Magnus opened his mouth, but no sound came. It felt so good, so good— He threw his hands over his head to hold on the edge of the wall while Alec started working on him, spreading him, brushing that bundle of nerves that just sent Magnus reeling and he could feel himself already leaking and it was so good, so fucking good. “Now I'm all in your bed makin' you sweat. I said open up for me.” Alec trust his fingers once more, scissoring him, taking Magnus over the edge with every brush and every bite on his neck. Alec biting his earlobe, dragging his tongue over the shell of his ear, the feel of his long fingers— Magnus could stay here all night just to feel this kind of pleasure building up. “Don’t you fucking dare to stop,” Magnus warned him between moan after moan and ragged breaths. How he found his voice to say that, he didn’t know but the warning was there. Against his cheek, Alec huffed a laugh. “I won’t. I will fuck you so hard and so deep, you will feel me for days.” Magnus felt his cock twitch, more pre-come leaking from him and he whimpered. “Please.” Then he heard paper being ripped off, Alec pulling his fingers off and Magnus whined at the loss of them. “Aren’t we desperate?” Alec said in that cocky tone that Magnus was sure didn’t need but his body loved, nonetheless. “It’ll be a minute.” Magnus was working on some snarky remark when Alec put his hands back on Magnus’ ass, spreading him and in a swift thrust, Alec was deep inside him. No warning, no heads-up, nothing, just the feel of his long and thick cock splitting him open. He sucked in a breath, trying to contain his screams of pleasure. It hurt but it was the kind of hurt that felt good, amazing even and he just needed more. “I make that ass flex, watchin' you stretch. Screamin' put it all on me–” Magnus didn’t notice that he closed his eyes somewhere between Alec’s fingers and his cock, but he took that moment to open them just in time to see Alec’s gazed fixed on his own cock between Magnus’ legs. Slowly, Alec looked up to meet Magnus’ eyes; his eyes stopped being green so long ago, they were dark with desire and if that didn’t make him twitch, the shark smile did it for him. “You ready?” Alec grunted. Magnus could hear Alec panting but his smile was still there, taunting him, tempting Magnus to wipe it off with his lips and if it wasn't for the fact that he was using the wall for leverage, he would have done so. Alec shifted his legs to make his stance wider, taking hold of Magnus' hips. Magnus knew what was coming, so he held his breath in anticipation even though what he wanted to do was groan and moan when Alec's cock brushed his prostate with the movement. He tightened his hold on the wall and looked at Alec dead in the eye, challenging him. "Show me what you got, Lightwood." And those were his famous last words. Alec slammed into him in a swift motion, knocking the air out him. Magnus threw his head back again with a thud but whatever pain he could have feel at that moment was overpowered by Alec's sheer strength to fuck him.  They were actually fucking in a public restroom and the high chance of someone finding them, just made him twitch and whimper. He was so close. “I wanna fuck you, I wanna fuck you right . I want you only thinkin' 'bout me when you're up at night.” Alec shifted again and with every thrust, he was slamming right into his prostate, hard and fast, leaving Magnus out of breath but not before pleading for more and faster, harder, Alexander, fuck me harder. The bathroom was filled with the sound of skin on skin, Alec's panting and Magnus' loud "ah, ah, ah fuck!" accompanied with the music overhead. His orgasm was building up, really close and by the looks of it, Alec was close too. He had to. "I'm so– ah– close. I'm coming." Alec smirked again, his face glowing with sweat. "Cum for me, Magnus. Let me see you." And he didn't know what it was, if it was Alec's face, the way he was looking at him or the delicious drag of Alec's cock inside him, but his orgasm slammed into him like a freight train, making him cry out of simple pleasure. Alec followed suit, by the way he tightened his hold, leaving fingerprints on his skin. When he came down of his high, Alec slipped out slowly as to not hurt his oversensitive hole. How gentlemanly of him. His arms gave out at last, but Alec was there to hold him by his waist and thighs. Finally, he put Magnus down and while his legs were still shaking and they were gross with sweat and cum, Alec didn't stop holding him close, his face inches away from his own. It felt oddly intimate, even more than the mind-numbing sex they just had. They were still panting, their clothes scattered around their feet and it was starting to get chilly, but Magnus simply couldn't look away. "How was it?" Magnus snorted and smiled in time with Alec. He shrugged. "I might need a second opinion." "How insatiable of you." They met for another hungry and filthy kiss. Now   "But I still don't get how we missed it," Ragnor was saying while Magnus was finishing up the last touches of his outfit. "Are we really that clueless?" "I'm a lawyer, dear Ragnor," Magnus countered while looking at his reflection. His blonde highlights taking front and center stage of his outfit. There was this one time that Alec told him he looked good with blonde hair and well, okay, that stuck with him. "I'm capable of keeping secrets." "Yeah but you never were capable with us," Catarina countered back. This time, Magnus turned around to look at his friends. "I honestly don't see the point of this conversation. We met, we fucked, we liked it and we kept doing it. It's not that deep. I kept it a secret because I don't need your nosy asses up on my business and you're gonna end up hurt, Magnus, this is wrong. I know what I'm doing." "That sounds good and all, but Lightwood caught feelings and it's just a matter of time before you do too," Raphael said, waxing wisdom as if Magnus really needed it.  "Listen, I don't know if you are here out of concern or you guys want to gossip-" "I want the gossip." "I was bored." Both Ragnor and Raphael said, respectively. Magnus rolled his eyes, infuriated with his friends' antics. "I don't even know why I bother." "In all seriousness," Catarina started, walking towards where Ragnor was seated and sat down next to him. Magnus crossed his arms, waiting for another lecture. "we all know what happened with Camille and-" "Alexander is nothing like Camille, let's get that out of the equation first," Magnus snapped, his voice harsh. He didn't mean to but the sole idea of comparing Alexander with Camille was ridiculous at best and offensive at worst.  "We all know what happened and we know that you fall hard and fast without listening to the consequences, and it's up to us to pick up your broken pieces and mend you. We don't want that to happen again because you mix sex with feelings." "Oh, so now I'm a burden. Thanks for that." He was really getting fed up with this conversation. Catarina sighed in frustration while Ragnor shook his head next to her. "That's not what she meant, and you know that. You started this... This–" Ragnor waved a hand in Magnus' general area, "I don't even know what to call it– do you even know the guy? Beside the size he wears." Magnus looked at him unimpressed. Rude much? He knew Alexander, more than any other sex-partner he had, which wasn't the idea of their agreement, but the main purpose stopped being just sex and started being a bickering-flirting-stay-the-night type of relationship. One which Magnus could explain how and why Alexander got his feelings mixed up and Magnus would have too but he he had been extremely careful. Until now. Because tall and handsome decided to serenade him a week ago, to ask him out on a real date and Magnus, against his better judgement, accepted because what if. What if Alec ended up being what Magnus wanted in a relationship, a real one. All the strings attached. "You guys are acting as we don't know him. We've been in the same classes for the past two years. It's not like Lightwood is going to kidnap him," Raphael stated, standing next to Magnus. Magnus wanted to believe that it was in support. "Chill." Magnus nodded, trying very hard to mask his surprise. Usually, Raphael would gang up with Ragnor and it was up to Catarina and him to defuse the situation and get them on his side. Ragnor stared at him for a moment in silence and then sighed, like he was already lamenting what he was going to say next. "Just be careful. I don't want to repeat another heartbreak." Magnus rolled his eyes. "Yes, dad. Whatever." "No-uh. Don't call me that. Ugh." Ragnor pointed a finger at him. "I'm pretty sure that's what you call him." Taking advantage of the silence, Magnus smirked at them and it was just a few seconds before the implication sank in and they were all groaning. "Magnus!" "You basically asked me," Magnus said, between laughs, "that's on you." "Okay, that's it. I'm out." Ragnor stood up and walked out of the room without sparing one last glance at Magnus. Raphael followed suit. Catarina was the only one who still sat there, looking at him. "Something on your mind?" She shrugged. "You tell me." He threw a quizzical look at her and waited for her to elaborate. After a few seconds of their staring contest, he huffed and threw his arms up in frustration. "What?" "You actually like him." Magnus rolled his eyes and turned around to see his reflection and avoid Catarina's knowing stare. "Maybe not now, but you like him," she added. "I don't know what makes you think that. It's just a date," he mused; he wasn't going to elaborate on his own words because that was a train of thought he wasn't ready to dwell in. "Don't make it bigger than it is." "Perhaps." That was the only thing she said. Next thing he knew, Catarina was kissing his cheek, saying goodbye with a "catch you later. I want all the details." He heard the door shut close. With the room empty except for him, Magnus let himself go and dropped his shoulders, his relaxed facade dropping. He was nervous, terrified and nervous but he didn't want his friends to know because they would misunderstand it. He was nervous because he actually wanted this date to go well, amazing even. Alexander was a man like any other; without trying to sound cliché Alexander was different, even the sex was different. Countless times he had cared for him, even though he didn't have to. Alexander had shown him that he could be boyfriend material. He shook his head. It was just a date and if it went well, then good. If it ended up being a disaster, they both knew they would call it off. But deep down, Magnus wanted this go well.     ∞   Magnus shook his shoulders and forced his body to relax. This is fine, I’m good, this is fine, fine, fine. Thoughts like that would go in his head in a loop. He was so nervous; he could barely breathe. After millions of times meeting Alexander in a rather unconventional way, this was the one thing that could sent him back to be that school-boy that barely knew what dating was about. This felt like the very first date, which sounded completely ludicrous. And yet… He was waiting outside his bedroom building. They had agreed that Alexander would pick him up because according to him, he wanted to make this the perfect date, checking out all the boxes. Right at that moment, a slick black car parked in front of him and Magnus let out a long shaky breath. Alexander was there, and Magnus was not nearly ready for this. And then, Alexander was getting out of the car, his eyes focused on him and Magnus almost felt his knees gave out. Alexander wasn’t a flashy man, not a all but he could manage put a simple attire– a white t-shit, a black leather jacket over it, black skinny jeans and black shoes– and Magnus could feel himself shake with the thought of spending the night with him. Then he would look at Alec’s face and Magnus would just self-combust; even after all this time, Magnus would still feel himself getting all hot and bothered when thinking about their nights together. Just last month, Alexander decided to grow out his beard and well, Magnus still had some recollection about the delicious burn on his thighs. “Hey,” Alec greeted him, smiling softly at him. And then, without any prompting or warning, Alec pulled him by his waist, a hand on his chin and they were kissing like any other couple, and Magnus… His last working circuits sparked and short out with the feel of his lips and the appreciative hum. Would he be able to last the night? Probably not. When they parted, Magnus kept his eyes closed for a second, relishing in the taste that was Alec. God, when did he become addicted to those lips? Maybe he wasn't the only one who mix things up at some point in their relationship and that was a scary thought. Alec did a once-over and then smiled. "You look amazing." "Why thank you," Magnus replied, brushing his ear trying to play coy but that didn't stop that warm feeling in his gut to start spreading. He wasn't that brave to say it out loud, but he loved it when Alexander complimented him. It made him all kinds of hot and bothered. And there was a high probability that Alexander knew that by the way his eyes darken a little and there was no smile, just shameless lust. He leaned down just enough so there were inches between their mouths. “But I’m sure they would look better on my bedroom floor.” Alec used the momentum while Magnus was still catching up, to swipe his thumb over Magnus bottom lip while biting his own. His eyes flitted up to catch Magnus’ and they stared each other just seconds but they were seconds enough for Magnus to feel hot all over his body. It was intoxicating. As soon as it happened, it was over and Alec was turning around in direction towards his car and saying “come, we don’t want to miss out reservation” over his shoulder, like nothing happened. Magnus stood there, reeling from the clash of everything he was feeling. He took a moment to breath out and pray he would last the night.   ∞   Against all odds, Alec decided to choose something simple, a dinner. At the most expensive restaurant in the area. Because he wanted to go all out with their first date and Magnus didn’t have the heart to tell him that whatever he decided for them to do was fine. Magnus didn’t need eccentricities. But maybe Alexander was just trying to impress him, that he wasn’t that “simple” as everyone liked to think and it wasn’t like they talked about that (because that wasn’t a topic of conversation for two guys just having sex) but Magnus never thought of Alexander as “simple”. He was anything but that. Magnus lowered his gaze to laser-gaze the menu after he realized he was staring at his date for far too long, feeling his cheeks getting warm. This is stupid, he thought, we had done far more shameless things behind closed doors and I get flustered because I’m staring. What the fuck, indeed. “I’m thinking, maybe pasta?” Alec mused, doing that thing of his where he would squint his eye, looking more thoughtful. Adorable. Magnus shook his head and continued laser-gazing his menu. Adorable? Since when? This was getting out of control. Ragnor was right, he was catching feelings just mere minutes after the date had started. Five months into no-strings-attached-sex and the moment they take the “next step,” he’s falling for Alexander? Unbelievable. “Hey, Magnus.” Magnus looked up to see Alexander already staring at him. “You okay? You look constipated. We can rain check if you want.” “No, no. It’s that… Well, um,” Magnus trailed off, closing his menu. It was obvious he didn’t have half the mind to think about food. “It feels weird to be like this.” It certainly felt odd to be in a public setting like this. Alexander didn’t say anything but closed his menu too. “If you feel weirded out, we can cut this short, Magnus. I don’t… The last thing I want you to think is that I’m forcing you.” Magnus shook his head, vehemently. “I don’t want to cut this short. No. I'm fine. This is fine. I want to do this." Magnus frowned, going back to looking at his menu because looking at Alec's soft smile would probably melt his remaining brain-cells and the night had barely started. "Stop asking me if I'm fine." Instead of being annoyed or mad at his comment, Alexander just snorted and leaned over the table. "Adorable. You're adorable." Magnus raised his menu successfully hiding his face from this uncalled teasing and also preventing Alec from seeing the rosy tint on Magnus' cheeks. "Shut up," he grumbled. Not even the menu could prevent Alexander for laughing at him for putting Magnus in this situation. Even though he never told Alec about his recent weakness for praise, Alexander was getting the idea and the fact that he was doing this in public, not fair. Alexander wasn't fair. Right at that moment, the waiter came stopping whatever filthy thing Alec was cooking up in that head of his. "Hi, good evening. My name is David. I'll be your waiter for the night." Magnus looked up to see this guy, probably their age. Dark skinned, curly hair and warm brown eyes. He also filled his vest and white buttoned-down shirt in all the right places. The guy- David- was a sight, for sure but even with their odd relationship, Magnus could firmly say that he didn't hold a candle when comparing him to Alexander.  And he really believed that Alexander was the whole package he wanted in a man and he wanted this date to go right but maybe that wasn't clear enough because David did a once-over and there, right in front of Alec, he smirked and then licked his lips. Magnus glanced at Alec who was already looking at David like he wanted to squeeze the life out of him. It was subtle, of course, but Magnus already knew his death glares; Alexander wasn't happy. "What can I get for you, beautiful?" David get looking at him. And Magnus just wanted a hole to open up right there and then. "I, uh, can I get a margarita?" David nodded, scribbling down on his notepad. "Classics. I like that in a man." He looked up just a moment to wink at Magnus and then back down. "And to eat?" Magnus could feel Alec seething from his side of the table and he could bet this David felt that too, but he kept the shameless flirting, not caring for Alec. He cleared his throat. "I'll have what he's having."  David turned to Alexander with a bored gazed, his hips jutting out as he was so suddenly annoyed and in a hurry for leaving their table. “We would like a Shrimp Alfredo,” Alec said, handing the menu but keeping his death glare on the waiter but David didn’t look faze by it. “Don’t come until they are ready.” David took the menu, actually rolling his eyes at Alec and turned around. There was this deep need of him to clarify the situation. Magnus wasn’t one to flirt with someone else if he was having a date and he wasn’t crazy enough to do so in front of  Alec, even when they weren’t together together. He wanted Alec to understand that he didn’t condone this shameless flirting and if there was someone that he would end the night with, that would be the man in front of him. But before he would form his reasons, Alexander beat him to it. “So, how was your day?” Magnus whipped his head so fast it almost gave him a stroke and frowned. They weren’t going to talk about what happened? Was Alec fine with it? That couldn’t be it. But looking at his face— calm face, no traces of death glares— maybe he didn’t wat to talk about it. “Well, same old, I guess.” Magnus shrugged while rearranging his cutlery, buying some time for him to come up with something interesting. It was never like this between them, but he was so nervous and there was no reason for it. It was Alexander, he knew this man inside out, even with their particular situation. “I have a whole entourage asking me what I was doing and how did I manage to pull this off because according to Ragnor, I can’t keep secrets.” “Because you can’t.” Magnus looked up, so offended that pulled a laugh out of Alexander, and crossed his arms. “Well, do tell.” “Remember this exam we had for Constitutional Law? We were so anxious about it and you said that you would get hammered if you got the minimum to pass. “We all got hammered, Alexander,” Magnus rebuked, crossing his legs over the other, “don’t put that on me.” “Hold on– And then you said that your father couldn’t find out because I don’t need that kind of stress in my life, Alexander. That would be embarrassing.” It seemed that they had spent so much time together that he could imitate Magnus’ voice down to the flick of his wrists. Magnus rolled his eyes even though the was already smiling. Alec continued, “turns out your father showed up the next day for an “impromptu visit.” “He said that he missed me and that he wanted to spend time together with his son and I was pulling that off until fucking Underhill showed up.” At that, Alec laughed loudly, immediately covering his mouth. Magnus remembered that Wednesday night. They all knew it was a bad idea to go out on a school night, especially when they had another exam on Friday but they were all wound up about that day, they’d decided to just have a few drinks that turned into a competition of who could drink more tequila shots. Catarina had thrown up her weight in liquor, Ragnor had fallen asleep on the sidewalk because if he were to die that night, it had to be in the streets so he could be famous. Raphael got lost in the middle of the  night and Simon had spent half an hour crying because of that; turned out Raphael had fallen asleep in the bathroom. Clary was so convinced that she could keep drinking but she couldn’t even stand on her feet; Alexander was a happy drunk while Underhill had hollered that he was amazing at dancing. Asmodeus had showed up the next day saying he wanted to spend some quality time with Magnus since he was so caught up with his classes and as any other Asian parent, his father was strict with grades and classes. So, Underhill showing up that same morning saying that he could still feel the tequila shots, well, it hadn't been cute for Magnus and even though he tried to convince Asmodeus that he didn't know what Underhill was talking about, his father saw through the lie. "I think he started hating Underhill after that," Magnus added, pulling a laugh out of Alec. "He even thought I was dating him, which not going to happen." Alexander hummed, tilting his head a little. "And who are you planning on dating?" That was a rhetoric question, it had to be because they were there, right? It should be obvious that it was— "Here you go." David placed two steaming plates in front of them. It smelled delicious, so much that it made him salivate and his stomach grumbled. It was then that he realized he hadn't eaten anything yet. David looked up and winked at him again. "Enjoy. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you know where to find me." Magnus opened his mouth, ready to turn that offer down but the guy was gone before he could mutter a word. He turned to Alec who was already eating from his plate. It was stupid, ridiculous even, but they were on a date, right? Alec was the one who insisted and now that they were here and this guy was clearly interested in Magnus, the only thing that Alec had done was glare but just for a moment and that was it. Was the food more important than the possibility of someone coming and sweeping off his feet? But he couldn't complain, could he? It was not his place to do so. Maybe somewhere along the way, Alexander realized that they should just stick with sex. Looking at his food, he wasn’t hungry anymore but they were here and he should make the best out of it. He picked his fork but that was as far as he could go. "I hear you thinking over here. What's wrong?" Alec asked. And Magnus should be quiet, they weren't together and if this didn't work out, he had this David guy to replace Alexander at least for the night. It was fine, they weren't together— "This guy's been flirting with me since we sat down and it-it... I'm annoyed that you don't care enough to say something. What if I go with him and leave you alone?" "Are you going to do that?" Magnus spluttered and opened his mouth, coming up with nothing. "I could!" He sounded outraged and all kinds of offended. But Alec remained the same, his face didn't change nor he spoke and maybe Magnus was exaggerating this whole ordeal because the only thing that really bound them was their mutual desire and their classes but that was it. Magnus shouldn't make a scene. "I'm not going to fight with the waiter, Magnus." Alexander shook his head as if the mere possibility of that happening was mad. "Let's just have a good time." Magnus looked at him, hard. So, the food was more important. Right, message received. Without saying a word, Magnus flicked his napkin over the table and stood up. "Then have a good time alone," he hissed. He spared one last look at the food and huffed. "What are you– Magnus!" But Magnus was already halfway through the restaurant, ready to leave and no matter how many times Alec would call, he wasn't turning around.     ∞     Magnus was so furious that he ended up walking to some park close to the restaurant. He was so blind by rage that he completely forgot that he could have called an uber or maybe Ragnor to pick him up and by the time he realized this, he was already in this park, alone, in the middle of the brightly-lit bridge and overlooking a small lake. This is stupid, he sighed leaning on the railing and closed his eyes for a moment. Now that he had to the time to think about it, whatever that was, it was ridiculous, He actually ditched Alexander because the man didn’t want to yell at the waiter for flirting with Magnus. Who the fuck would think like that? Magnus, apparently. He just wanted a nice date and he completely ruined it. It wasn’t farfetched to think that maybe Alexander didn’t want to see him again after this, that he wanted to cut their thing off. “There you are.” Magnus almost jumped out his skin at the new voice. He turned around to see Alec standing just a few feet away. He was close enough from him and Magnus didn’t even notice before. “I’ve been looking for you,” Alexander added, walking the few feet between them until he was right in front of Magnus. “The valet told me you came this way.” Magnus shrugged while turning back to the lake. “Well, here I am.” “What was that all about?” At the mention of his catastrophic demeanor, Magnus hunched over his shoulders and tried with all his might not to look at Alec. It was embarrassing enough to also have Alec looking at him with pity or disappointment. “Magnus, look at me.” The command was clear in his voice and against all his wishes, Magnus turned. “What happened back there?” Magnus looked at Alec in the eye and then to somewhere else because he couldn’t keep eye contact, not after that. “I don’t know. I… I got caught up in this “let’s have a date” thing and I forgot that we weren’t together.” He stopped for a moment and swallowed, embarrassment taking hold of him. “It was uncalled for. It’s just– I thought you were wooing me and turns out you only cared about the food. I’m annoyed, I don’t know. This guy was flirting with me and you didn’t care. I don’t know.” He felt his cheeks getting warmer because saying it out loud sounded more stupid and he needed a hole to open up just so he could hide. He needed this conversation to be over right at that moment. When he heard movement, Magnus looked up just in time to see Alec cutting short the distance between them until their faces were mere inches away, Alec’s hands on his hips. Magnus sucked in a breath, feeling his heart stopped for just a second. “I keep forgetting that you’re not mine, not really. I can only call you mine in my bed, behind closed doors but the moment you leave, those moments are over.” He stopped and looked at Magnus as he was searching for something, but his gaze never wavered. “I was so mad that he was flirting with you and I wanted to call him out on his bullshit, tell him that you were with me but I… I didn’t want to assume, not when you didn’t have your feeling clear for me.” Magnus pursed his lips and lowered his gaze. This could have been solved in a nice and peaceful conversation, not like this inn the middle of the night. The thing was, his feelings were clear and the fact that he was frustrated because Alec didn’t assume things right away, it was a dead giveaway. “Assume. Do it.” “What?” Alec frowned. “I just pulled a reversed-jealousy stunt back there–” “I don’t think that exist.” “I want you,” Magnus cut him off, his voice determined. Saying it like that, caught him by surprise but it was true. It felt true. “I want you. All the strings attached.” Slowly but surely, Alec smiled this big, bright smile of his that just melted the remaining of Magnus’ walls. “Are you sure?” “More than that.” Alec pulled him closer until their lips met.   ∞     “–And then we kissed,” Magnus concluded, looking over at the mix reactions of his friends. Ragnor raised his eyebrows. “That was extreme, even for you.” “I really can’t believe you pulled that off. Lightwood must really like you,” Raphael added. Magnus rolled his eyes in time with Catarina’s, but the snark aside, those words held some truth. “I, for one, am glad that you guys are not keeping your relationship a secret anymore,” Catarina said, drawing Magnus’ attention. “I’m happy everything turned out fine.” Magnus smiled, trying to go for nonchalant but in reality, he was glad too.

“Do you think…” Vergil’s voice brings you out of your daydreaming. You wait for a heartbeat, but he keeps his gaze on the window, silent and brooding. “Do I think what, Vergil?” He swallows thickly, closing his eyes. “Do you think we could be together. Like we did before?” He slides the Yamato back into its sheath. A look passes over your face. Memories flit past, glimpses of happy and sad times with him before the incident, before he became V. And then happy times with V. The sadness you felt when you realised he wasn’t coming back. The tentative happiness of having Vergil back, the wariness. “Before?” “When I was V. Could we go back to that?” Those icy blue eyes flit between your face and the floor, a strange expression of vulnerability on his handsome face. “Could you ever love me?” Silence falls like a veil between the two of you, disrupting the once peaceful silence. “Are you ready for that answer?” “Yes.” You lock eyes with him, fingers fidgeting on your blanket. He’s ready for that answer. But are you? You can’t deny that you’ve thought about it - each time he comes home and greets you with a shy smile, each time he rolls over at night and clutches at your hand, each time he wakes up and sighs contentedly. He’s not the man you used to know. Not the old Vergil. Not V. He’s…someone else entirely, a mix of both. You loved V and hated the old Vergil. This Vergil. This new him that resurfaced from the Underworld with a grinning Dante by his side, who nodded at Nero, who quirked a tiny smile at Nico fangirling over Dante’s new blade. Who looked at you with great longing in his eyes, who stilled his trembling fingers when you approached him with wariness. Who ducked his head when you asked him where V was, if he was coming back. Who shook his head solemnly and steadied you when you swayed, eyes squeezed shut to stave off the tears. You look at that new Vergil now. Really look at him. He feels completely different from the Vergil you once knew. He’s relaxed, content, no deep tension stiffening his shoulders, a sense of serenity in the way he lounges in that sun-drenched chair with a leatherbound book open on his lap. He doesn’t wear his coat or vest or any of his gear, a comfortable jumper and sweats replacing his outside clothes. Barefoot and with his hair escaping his normally slicked back style, Vergil looks like he’s at home. In the mornings now he stays with you in bed, refusing to leave until you get up. In the evenings he doesn’t leave your side but gives you your space, only going to bed when you do and staying up until you do. He shows that he cares now, in that subtle, hesitant way. As though expecting rejection. Just like now. Though his back is straight and his head held high, there is a sense of anticipation in the way he seems to hold his breath. As if he was just expecting you to tell him that you can’t love him. Can’t forgive him. You close your eyes and sigh deeply, setting your book aside. No matter your feelings, your own inward battle, you refuse to let him percolate in his own depressing thoughts. “Arms up." Vergil complies without a thought, lifting his arms so as to give you space to slide onto his lap. With your legs flung over one thigh, you curl your arm around his neck and press your forehead over his temple. And just like that, Vergil relaxes fully, his arms falling around you and wrapping you in his intense warmth. In his strong arms. He swallows thickly and turns his face into your hair, inhaling deeply and dragging your scent into his lungs. Doing his best to make you sink into his pores and burn you into his memory. "I think I can,” your murmur is so soft Vergil almost doesn’t catch it. “Mmm?” You clear your throat gently and pull away just enough so you can look at his handsome face. “I won’t say we can go back to when I was with V. But…” Your eyes flit over his hopeful expression, your hand pressing against his jaw and cheek. “We can try. V was you, but you’re not V.” His strangled breath is felt more than heard. “I want to love you for you. Not V. You." A lump grows in Vergil’s throat and he fights not to avert his gaze. Hope and anxiousness build in his chest in equal measure. Hope for a new future; anxiousness that he won’t live up to your expectations. He raises a hand and presses your palm to his cheek, leaning into your touch and lowering his gaze just a tad. "But…I…” You press your lips to his nose, his eyelids, his forehead. Whisper into his skin, “You deserve to be loved for you, Vergil. I won’t disrespect you by loving a memory over what is right in front of me.” A shaky smile crosses your lips and you pull back enough to tilt his head up, to make him look at you in the eyes again. “We’ve gotten off to a good start, baby. You’re opening up to me more and you’re letting me care for you. That’s really good. We just have to keep going, okay?” For the first time ever, shiny tears start to build in Vergil’s beautiful eyes. They never fall, never trail down his chiselled features, but they turn his gaze wet and soft. “I just-” He just wants to be loved. Protected. Cared for by someone who loves him. Wants to love someone in turn. “I know,” you whisper with a sad smile. “I know, baby.” It’s not quite time for you to say those words, but deep in your heart, you say it clearly. I can love you. Vergil shakes and his eyes widen, those icy blue eyes darting over your face as he hears what you can’t say. Hears the words that you’re not ready to utter. So he shoots you a shy little smile and buries his head into your neck, enjoying the feeling of you wrapping yourself around him and stroking his soft hair. Okay. Okay, he can wait. He will always wait for you.

8am        Scott opened his eyes with a groan. He'd rarely had such an awful night of sleep. Derek had warned him of course, but the electric feeling across his skin had been nearly unbearable. He'd finally fallen asleep around eleven, but had woken up multiple times throughout the night. He crawled into the bathroom and took a shower. Thank god he was already planning on skipping school for the day, the feeling on his skin was distracting enough, trying to deal with that and the bad night’s sleep might be a disaster.      He crawled out of bed, ate a bowl of cereal, and slipped out of the house while his mom was still asleep. Derek was already waiting for him at the curb down the street and Scott hopped into the passenger side. Derek gave him a look and asked, "Breakfast?"     "I already ate," Scott said.     Derek nodded. "You'll want to eat as much as possible today. The first shift will really take it out of you otherwise. If you're normally careful about what you eat as far as calories, don't do that today."     Scott nodded.     "Are you more nervous or scared about tonight?" Derek asked.     "Both." Scott said quietly. "Does it hurt?"     Derek was quiet for a moment. "My shift was never the way yours will be tonight. I was born to be a shifter. Your body is changing to become one. So I'm not sure. I remember the first time that it felt like I was on fire and then I wasn't. But ask Allison and Gary how it was for them. I'm glad they're here, there's a lot about your experience that won't match mine."      Scott nodded. "I'm also sort of excited for it. I'm not sure if I would have picked this, but I'm starting to get used to it. I have moments when I feel like I'm starting to get a real handle on my senses and it's amazing."      Derek smiled. "I'm glad. I know that the tradition is that it's a curse, but it's never seemed like that for me. This is a blessing. I couldn't imagine not being able to change."      Scott laughed. "I'd be more excited if I could do the full wolf shift, that is super cool."      Derek shrugged. "Don't get too wrapped up in the idea you can't. There have been bitten wolves who've managed to do it. Mostly alphas, but I don't know that a beta can't learn. Your wolf knows it's shape, just let it take you there. Don't fight it, don't push it, just let the wolf take charge. Take comfort that there's nothing new about it, and there will be five other wolves in the room going through the same thing."     Scott nodded. "I think I'm ready. But I'm still terrified." He laughed. "I'm kind of a mess today."     "It's normal I'm sure," Derek said. "How long do you think before Stiles skips out to join us?"     "He's done with Chemistry at 945, he'll be at the warehouse by 10." Scott predicted.     "I saw him last night. Does he often have a hard time sleeping?" Derek asked.     Scott nodded. "Every since his mom. How was he?"     "I scared him," Derek said with a smile. "He was on the porch moving a chair around and I sneaked right up on him."     Scott laughed. "That explains the text I got. It simply said 'Fluffy wolf is an asshole.'"     Derek smiled.     "Do you want him to be like us? Is that why you spend time with him?" Scott asked.     Derek thought for a moment. "I think he'd be a fantastic wolf if he wanted it. And if he asked I'd find an alpha that would do it even if Laura said no. But if he doesn't want it, no. I just think he's great, and he's important to you and-" Derek almost added, 'the sheriff', "I keep an eye on both of you at night. In case the alpha comes sniffing around."      "Do you expect him to?" Scott asked.     "I don't know what to expect of him, to be honest," Derek said. "He's not doing any of the things I'd expect him to do. He bit you, then he abandoned you. And then he ignored you. I've expected to see signs of him hanging around and keeping an eye on you. But there's been nothing."     "Maybe he just regrets biting me," Scott said quietly. "Maybe he really wanted Stiles."       Derek looked at him closely. "When I went back out that next morning, before I saw you guys, I walked up that same walk you guys took into the reserve that night. His scent was everywhere. He followed you both, watching you both. Whatever he was thinking, biting you wasn't an accident. I'm not sure if he intended to bite Stiles too, I think he did, otherwise he would never have dropped you and turned back to Stiles. But he bit you because he wanted you too."      "Is it weird that I'm glad a crazy monster werewolf actually wanted to bite me? That it wasn't an accident?"       "I mean, I'd rather you got to decide for yourself that you wanted the bite, but that's kind of a perfect world option obviously," Derek said. "But it's nice to know the things that happen aren't accidents I guess."      Scott nodded. "Do you believe in destiny? That, like, certain things are mean to to happen?"      Derek thought for a moment. "Not really. I can't imagine a reason for what happened to my family. I can't believe that whatever divine author you like to imagine would find meaning in their death. I think that life just happens to us, and it's on us to give it meaning."      Scott was quiet for the rest of the ride, but Derek could tell he was thinking over what Derek said.       There was a white van parked out front when they pulled in at the warehouse. Derek slid out of the driver’s side and the van's driver got out and shook his hand. "Sorry, I got a bit of an early start this morning so I came a little before we'd said," the guy said. "I'm Randy from A and G Security."       Martin had recommended the security company, of course, which he'd thoroughly vetted over the years. Derek introduced himself and then unlocked the door and turned on the lights. He explained in more detail what he wanted, and made sure that the resulting system would not be affected by the use of the sprinklers.      Randy got to work and Scott and Derek went up the stairs to one of the second story offices so Derek could coach Scott on getting used to his expanded senses. They listened to Randy's breathing and heartbeat, and tried not to giggle a bit at his tuneless humming. By the time the hour had passed Scott was getting a grip on how to focus and, just as important, how to stop listening supernaturally.       Around ten, as predicted, Derek and Scott both heard a vehicle pull up . Scott smiled and said, "Stiles."      "How'd you recognize him?" Derek asked.      "His heartbeat. I can't explain it, but it says Stiles to me," Scott said.      Derek nodded. "They're like fingerprints, no two are the same."      They heard Stiles bolt through the doors and ask Randy where they were hiding and then leap up the stairs two or three at a time. "Fluffy are you hiding Scott up here?" he shouted up the stairs. Derek smiled and rolled his eyes.      "Stiles, I'm going to beat you if you start calling me that." Derek said evenly.      "That's what you get for scaring the piss out of me in front of strangers," Stiles accused. "Like he doesn't even know who I am besides the ridiculous flailing kid who screams. How could you even do that to me?"      Derek snorted. "Don't be ridiculous Stiles. He knows you as the idiot who attacks an alpha werewolf with a stick."      Stiles mouth gaped. "Seriously? You tell people about that?"      Derek looked at him, "Stiles, I’m telling EVERYONE about that. It's hilarious. It's like taking on a tank with a fucking slingshot."      Stiles moaned. "Why couldn't I have been a coward?" he said. "Life is easy for cowards. No one laughs at them I bet."      Derek smiled. "No one laughs at you Stiles, they might think you're stupidly brave, but no one laughs."      Stiles perked up. "Really?"      "Really." Derek said.      "So you think I'm brave?"      "I think if you ever do that again you won't have to worry about the alpha werewolf killing you because I will." Derek replied.      "Who's going to pet you if you kill me?" Stiles shot back.      "Scott."     "Oh no, you guys leave me out of this." Scott said quickly.      "Scott would protect me if you tried to kill me," Stiles answered back. "Cause he's my werewolf bro!"      "And what am I?" Derek asked curiously.      Stiles shrugged and thought for a moment. "You're like my werewolf cuddle buddy."      Derek laughed. "Just make sure you try to avoid getting in a fight with any other wolves, okay Stiles?"      "I'll try," Stiles said, "but I expect my werewolf bro and my cuddlewolf to keep me safe."      "Deal," Derek said looking at Scott.      Scott smiled.       "Wait," Stiles said. "Does that mean you're planning to stick around after all of this is over?"       Derek nodded. "Yeah, I actually started the process of buying a place here in town a couple of days ago. It's going to take some work but I'm looking forward to it."       "Where is it?" Stiles asked. "When do I get to see it?"       "I'll take you over to see it once I've signed for it. It's over off of 4th in the commercial district," Derek said. "It's going to require a pretty big remodel of the inside, but it's big and I think I can make it secure, and I'm ready to be home."       Scott looked at him like he was hearing something that Derek wasn't saying, and Derek wondered what that was, but was too afraid to ask.       "That's awesome!" Stiles said. "I kind of thought you'd be going back to New York after we found your sister and we'd never see you again."       Derek shook his head. "No. Scott's going to need someone around for awhile til he's got control on his wolf at least, and I-" Derek paused and then said, "New York has never been my home, it's just been where I lived. For better or worse Beacon Hills is home."        Stiles seemed quite cheerful after that, peppering Derek with questions about the building and didn't seem too disappointed that Derek wasn't planning to build some kind of Fortress of Solitude-esque retreat.         Eventually Randy called up the stairs and said that he was done and Derek went down to check it out. The camera system included it's own low lighting system that would always be on, and had a back-up power source in case the power was cut. The cameras were discreetly placed and hard to see, even if you knew where to look, and Randy explained to Derek the couple of small blind spots the system left. Derek nodded and listened carefully, and he wasn’t surprised at all when Stiles asked several very good questions about access and recording. He was his father’s son.          Randy helped them set up the live access and Derek let Stiles pick the password they used to replace the default. The system had a local video back up as well as a remote service that would both keep up to 1000 hours of footage, and had an easy process by which you could export raw footage to permanent storage. It was exactly what Derek had asked for, plus things hadn’t known to ask for. He thanked Randy, shook his hand and took the card from him.          They had about a half hour after he left before the plumbing specialist was due to arrive to test the water sprinklers, and Derek handed Stiles his credit card and sent him out to get burgers for an early lunch.        The plumbing guy showed before Stiles got back, and he was explaining to Derek how the system worked and where the manual trigger for the system was located, when Stiles rushed back in with bags of food and an endless string of words.        When the system had been installed someone had clearly been thinking about the possibility of a localized fire on the main warehouse floor because the system actually had two manual triggers for the main warehouse floor, one for the east and one for the west side, as well as a separate manual trigger for the second floor, all located in the secure mechanical room under the stairs. They tested both the triggers for the main floor and both were in excellent working order, and Derek smiled. He thanked the plumbing guy, and made sure he had Martin's address to send the bill to.        Scott and Stiles were eating burgers and talking animatedly about a movie that Derek had never heard of, and Derek had a moment where he was exactly where he wanted to be, other than Laura not being there, and it was exactly who he wanted to be with. He didn't know if Scott wanted to be pack with him, but he was increasingly sure he wanted him to be.  

Sam had to pry Dean off Cas, tugging him back into an awkward hold to get him away from the mattress. Once he decided to act, Sam would be decisive, and he’d clearly decided to let the Nephilim try to get Cas’ grace back. Dean felt as though he was watching it through a screen, heavy grief already settling about him like a shroud. Cas was dying. “Sam,” he tried, but he couldn’t get any further. His voice sounded hollow. Numb. “Just let her try, Dean,” Sam said, right into his ear, his mouth practically pressed against the side of Dean’s head. “Let her try and we’ll deal with the rest.” He let go of Dean then, leaving him to catch himself on the cold concrete, his arms weaker than they had any right to be as he held himself upright. The numbness was stopping him from diving at her, from knocking her away from Cas. She knelt next to him, a calculating look on her face, seeming to ignore Sam, who now crouched opposite her, tense and ready to move if he had to. If it would do any good. Cas was more on his back than his side. She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulder. Dean twitched and she levelled a look at him that clearly told him he was being foolish. “I do this or he dies,” she reminded him, and turned back to her work. As soon as she got Cas onto his stomach, her eyes flared, even brighter than they had before, and she shifted, her shoulders pulling back and up in a way Dean had seen on Cas when he was facing an enemy. For a second, he could have sworn he saw shapes behind her, red and insubstantial, then his vision cleared and it was just her, just a woman with fiery starlight for eyes, plunging her hands into his best friend’s body, strange words spilling from her lips. Cas stopped screaming. In the place of screaming, small, short gasps filled the room and it took Dean a minute, but he finally realised that Cas’ eyes were open. Really open. Cas was staring at Dean and seeing him, for the first time since Sam and Dean had left the bunker to find their cure. One hand had landed on the mattress on the line between Dean and the angel, and now it opened, reaching. Dean shuffled forwards, not wasting time getting to his feet, and almost fell on his own stomach as he lowered himself and grabbed Cas’ hand. He felt his friend grip tightly and squeezed back. “Hold on, Cas,” he said, not caring if he could be heard over the chanting. “Hold on, man. We’re not losing you.” He wasn’t sure if Cas heard him, but he kept a firm hold of Dean’s hand, still panting with what had to be pain. If he could do nothing else, Dean was going to make sure he kept hold, that Cas knew he wasn’t in this alone. He’d been alone all too often in the past. He’d let go too many times in the past. The sharp ache of Cas, letting go and stumbling back down an earthy slope, was enough to make Dean hold even tighter. Cas had come a long way since then. Hell, he’d told that Ritz-whatever that he wanted to live. The chanting went on, and on, the words dancing at the edge of meaning, like they were some Ur-language that plugged right into the base code of the world. It was sort of like Enochian, with the raw power throbbing through it, but more fluent, more lyrical. More refined. Whatever it was, Cas looked, if anything could be made out beyond the pain, resigned to it, whatever it was. He probably knew exactly what she was saying, being an angel and all. Except, he wasn’t an angel right now, and Dean had never thought to ask if that meant he lost any of his eons of knowledge, and anyway he hadn’t known the marks on his chest, so maybe he didn’t know this language, and Dean had to stop rambling in his head. Stop. Focus on Cas. Just on Cas. The guy’s eyes were still blue, clouded by suffering, and paler than Dean had ever seen them. Even when Cas had been Steve, he’d still had that otherworldly blue going for him. Now, they were washed out. That spell seemed to have knocked more than just his stolen grace from his body. As Dean watched, gripping his friend’s hand, the pale blue caught a soft glow, deep in the iris. Tiny sparks lit up, the truer, richer blue of Cas’ normal eye colour flashing in and out. All Dean could do was stare. Did it mean this was working? More sparks lit up, died, lit up again. More. A whole cluster flared into being, then another, and suddenly half of Cas’ right eye was back to angel-blue. Dragging his gaze from the blue, Dean checked what was going on above them. She still had fiery eyes, still had her shoulders pulled back like she had invisible wings of her own held aloft, but now her hands were in the air above Cas, pulling back and forth slowly, over and over again, like she was spooling yarn. Her skin was coated in blood. Cas stopped breathing. Dean jerked his eyes back to his friend, panic jolting thick nausea through him, ready to scream and yell and tear. Cas looked back, his eyes almost entirely blue, colour flooding back into his skin. He’d not stopped breathing because she’d killed him. He’d stopped breathing because he didn’t need to anymore. As Dean fathomed that fact, grace glowed electric in Cas’ eyes and the chant rose to a pitch, stirring and commanding. With a last cry, the Nephilim stopped, throwing her arms out wide as though releasing something, and it was Dean’s turn to gasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam looking at the same thing, his face turned up and his mouth open wide. Above Cas, stretching all the way to the ceiling, were the sketched outlines of shining black wings, crackling with blue grace, the dungeon still visible through them. They were a dream dragged partway into reality. As Dean stared, he felt Cas’ hand slip from his, saw Cas push himself upright, saw the massive wings thrash. Something that big should have floored all three of the people round the angel, but Dean felt nothing. The wings beat again. Once. Twice. Cas stood tall by now, his head high and his shoulders up and back and…oh. Oh. That was when he was beating his wings, when they were flaring out above his head. Did he do that every time he fought? Already, the outline was fading, but Cas still stood the same way. Perhaps, to him, the wings were always there. Had always been there, until losing his grace. For the first time in a long time, Dean felt awe.

The Boss of the Anti-Symbiote Taskforce sat within the shadows, his broad-shouldered form reclining in the chair for a moment, before he sat forward, his shoulders hunched, his scared, pale hands interlaced before him. His face was still invisible to him, due to his positioning and how he had directed the lighting be placed within his office. He wore a dark burgundy suit, was about all Kinzokumure could tell. None of them of the AST, had been this close to their boss before. He had always contacted them through droids, emails, burner phones and other aspects. “I have to attend a meeting in Tokyo with the Police, Public Safety Commission and other agencies over what occurred in Kamino.” The Boss explained carefully and slowly, his voice modulated by a machine. “You are in charge, Agent Kinzokumure. It is of the utmost importance we maintain this island base’s secrecy and security going forward.” “Is All Might retired?” Kuishinbo asked aloud, voicing a rumor that had started to surface ever since the battle ended. “He is in surgery for severe injuries taken in the battle, but he will make a full recovery.” The Boss replied simply. “There are many rumors abounding of past injuries. None of you are hired to worry about those.” The others flinched at his words, as he continued on with his speech. “Doctor Cathal will continue studying Klyntar specimens Phage, Lasher and Agony, while I retrieve other specimens for study.” He stood up, as Kuishino, Kinzokumure, Okiatsumaru and Tairana bowed, averting their eyes from him. “Within 5 hours, US Army Specialist Lee Price will be here for Symbiote M-22349, make sure he is ready.” “I will see to it sir.” Okiatsumaru replied, keeping his head, and for once, his voice serious and controlled. He walked past them, his shoes giving a metallic click as he left the room, marching to their right, then behind them, before finally leaving out the single brown wooden door. The Four agents waited for a long time, before finally looking up, all of them breathing a little harder then they should’ve. Of course, they had come close to seeing their boss, but he was adamant about them not seeing him. Kuishinbo had only looked at his back for a second, and the Boss had almost had him shot on the spot for it. In the room, there was nothing. A simple desk with a computer, two windows, and nothing of personal effect. No pictures of family, no little toys and nick-nacks that he had gathered, no plants or even a stuffed animal. The only thing visible that was his own was two paintings, one of a red faced man, his mouth agap in terror, his silver eyes locked on something to his right, the other a man playing a flute, but his body and fingers made entirely of finger bones, his black eyes turned downwards. All of it was sterile, besides those two paintings, that Okiatsumaru shuddered at every time he saw them. Kinzokumure turned to the others. “The Boss will not want us to linger here. Get a move on boys, girls and others.” He was the last to remain, as they all quickly filed out of there. They had entered this room few times, but when they did, it was cold and unsettling. Very little heat was in the room, and there wasn’t even detectable smells of any kind. If one stood outside, they couldn’t even pick up what was being said within. In this way, nothing could be found of the boss, even if you stood outside and listened in, or went inside and tried poking around, looking for any sign of something. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Doctor Cathal, meanwhile, was on the mainland himself, traveling along and resting at a motel, when the fight with All for One and All Might had went down. He had cared little, sipping his coffee calmly, as he watched the news reports and read his paper without a care in the world. Others had foretold of what was to come. It was like watching a movie, that he had already read the spoilers to. A few surprises, to be sure, but nothing he was unprepared for. He sat back in his chair, lazily stirring his creamer into his coffee as the others in the cafe talked and gabbed among themselves excitedly, replaying parts of the battle, and wondering what this meant for All Might going forward. ‘Simple minded fools, clinging to symbols to hold themselves up...’ he thought for a moment, before the cafe’s doors opened with the ring of a bell. He looked over his shoulder to see a young man in a white long coat and hood over his head, hands in his pockets, as he carefully and silently moved to the back booth with Dr. Cathal. He went immediately to the Doctor once catching sight of him, moving past everyone else, and taking a seat next to him. The young man had pale and slightly delicate features, with light blue hair, styled into arrowhead point at the ends, framing his face. He pulled his white hood off, giving the Doctor a weary look. “I thought I was meeting with Kai.” Cormac remarked with slight annoyance. “You’re a government scientist, and we’re already under tight surveillance.” The Man replied simply. “I am Hari Kuruno. I represent the Wagashira Kai as the Shataigashira.” “I thought Kai Chisaki was your Head Boss.” Cormac replied, now interested in this. “What happens with our Oyabun and group is none of your business.” Hari replied, keeping his voice low, but anger evident all the same. “Now, do you have us a deal or what?” Cormac gestured to the briefcase in the seat next to him, giving it a good tap with his hand. “It’s inside, do you wish to check.” “When we leave, I’ll check it in some place more secure.” Hari replied simply, eyes still narrowed as he studied him closely. “So what do you gain, Cathal, by handing this over to us?” Cathal took a long sip of coffee, looking out the window with a bored expression. “My employer asked me to create some things for him, but wasn’t happy with some of the products. I was asked to destroy them.” “And instead you’re handing them over to us?” Hari remarked, tilting his head slightly. Cormac nodded carefully. “Get me to Kai Chisaki, and it’s all yours, and a little extra something for you to study later.” “Finish your coffee, and we’ll meet Overhaul.” Hari replied with a nod. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ A cup of coffee and a few hours drive spent randomly turning down street after street, hoping to keep any tailing figures or agents off their back, before quickly leading him. They made it past a number of low-ranking Yakuza grunts, as Hari placed a special plague doctor’s mask over his face, a gold and brown bird-like visage with blue goggles, leading him into a set of stairs. Cathal didn’t seem bothered by the advanced underground maze he was now being lead through at the end of the stairs, balancing on his bronze-headed cane and carrying the large briefcase close. A number of Yakuza had offered to carry it for him, but Cathal had insisted on handling it himself. Finally, they reached a door at the end of the complicated halls and walls, the bunker leading to this simple room. Cormac said nothing, as Hari opened the door and lead him through. The room had cleaned green tiles, pristine white walls, and a clear glass coffee table. Seated on the cough ahead was the young Boss himself, Kai Chizaki, Overhaul. He wore a simple dress shirt and surgeon’s gloves. His face was obscured by a red plague mask, embroidered with gold. Besides him was a small figure, almost the size of a child, all black, with a white beak and empty, void-like eyes over the beak, the other was a taller figure, dressed in a black overcoat, black fedora and plague doctor’s mask. He wanted to make a remark about their strange choice of attire, but given what organizations he was a part of... “I hope you don’t mind the maze. We had to make sure you weren’t planning anything, Doctor.” Chizaki greeted coldly. “We have good reason not to trust you, given your...working history.” “What will it take then?” Cathal asked, moving around the second fold-out couch, and setting his briefcase down beside him, and leaning his cane on the table, before slowly sitting down with a grunt. Kai said nothing, nodding to the man in black, who stepped forward. “Did you agency send you here to infiltrate or sabotage us?” Waves of blue emanated from the man’s mouth and around the room, before focusing in and warping into Cathal’s body. Without thinking, he answered immediately. “I am defying orders by being here. My superiors would kill me if they knew what I had.” Chizaki nodded in satisfaction. “Good, good. That should do, Shin.” The man stepped back, as Cormac nodded. “You have any other questions?” “If what you said via your private messages was true,” Kai remarked. “You have something...like that Jet Black fellow?” “Yes, many things like it.” Cathal replied with a cold grin. “They’re not exactly Quirks, you see.” “It doesn’t matter. If my plans are to proceed, I need something to even the playing field.” Chizaki stated with a shrug. “You have the tools so I can come out on top of this power vacuum.” “Yes, these are called Symbiotes, and not everyone is ignorant of them.” Cathal explained with a small smile. “In time, you will find them most useful, once you...overcome some hang-ups.” “Well, let’s open up the case,” Overhaul replied, scratching the side of his face near the mask. “I want to know what I’m buying first.” “Ah of course.” Cathal replied, reaching with one arm, grabbing the briefcase handle, and swinging it up, before carefully laying it down on the table. He carefully clicked off the locks, put in the code for the last locking mechanism, and as everything came undone, popped the top of it off. He carefully opened it, checking it himself, before slowly turning it around for Overhaul, Mimic and Nemoto to see. Inside were two large canisters, one containing a mostly white, with some black mixed in, roiling mass of slime, struggling within. The other, was crimson, like spilled blood fresh from the body, and struggling much more frantically to get out then the other. Nemoto and Hasi looked surprised for a moment, while Kai barely reacted, looking at the two canisters with more curiosity then revulsion. “The first, the white one, is a creation of mine named...well, it’s code-name is much simpler.” Cathal explained, carefully pulling the canister out and setting it in front of Overhaul. “It is a clone of the same creature that brutally murdered ten of your grunts, some call him Black Death, Deathbringer, Jet Black, but his name is Venom. This, is his opposite, a mutated clone very different from him, named Anti-Venom.” “How does this ‘opposite’ work then?” Kai asked, as his advisers looked at him curiously. Dealing in stuff like this, it didn’t seem healthy. They weren’t sure if Kai should continue talking with this man. “It can absorb plagues and illnesses, like cancers, break them down and grow stronger, feasting on sickness while curing those it touches.” Cathal explained with the hint of excitement of a salesmen making his pitch. Kai felt some weight fall of his shoulders at his words. A destroyer of sickness, hm? “And of course, an assortment of weapons including claws, fangs and tentacles. Flesh keeps it sated, but chocolate will attract...less negative attention, I’d say.” “What are the weaknesses of this thing?” Overhaul asked, narrowing his eyes. “Because the last one slaughtered my troops with little difficulty, and I want to know how to beat it.” “Hmm, it’s good to know your own and your foes’ weaknesses. Such avoids loss of life and limb.” Cathal said pointedly, giving another cold, inhuman smile, Kai wanting to ask what he meant, before Cathal continued. “Fire and intense heat will burn it away without much resistance. Intense sounds up to 110 decibels can separate it from your body.” “Good. So we’ll be ready for anything the Heroes have.” Kai replied with a nod, interlacing his fingers in front of him. “What about the other?” Cathal gave a broad smile, chuckling in excitement at the question, as Mimic and Nemoto looked to the boss for a moment in worry. “This? This little beauty is a special one, found in some wreckage near Cletusville, Kentucky, in North America. It’s supposed to arrive next week, but I have pulled strings to get it now.” “Won’t your own boss mind?” Kai asked, all too aware of what could happen if the government became aware of missing property. Heroes and police were already after him. “I soon won’t be working for him.” Cathal replied with a smile, even his next words reeked of death and venom. “He won’t know until his agency is in the ground, gone. Dead and buried.” Kai raised an eyebrow, surprised at how assured he was. “You seem awfully certain.” “Oh, trust me, the Taskforce won’t be bothering your group or mine very soon, Chisaki.” Cathal remarked with another arrogant smile. “But, back to our subject here. Red and black and evil all over here, is named Carnage. Another like Venom, very related in fact, whose wild and unhampered by thoughts of mercy. Perfectly adapted for killing, murder and mayhem.” “Wild doesn’t work in an organization unless it can tempered.” Overhaul said plainly. “Can it follow orders.” “No.” Cathal said simply. “But the other organization I’m in, they need you to not touch it.” “Not touch it?” Overhaul replied, not liking the sound of holding government property like this, and still being in the dark. “For what reason.” “Essentially, we will be paying you big bucks, dollars, diamonds, Yen, whatever you want, to keep it in a very specific spot of my choosing.” Cathal explained. “I will visit to administer food and chemicals to keep it alive, and you may only worry about keeping it in the jar.” “So I get Anti-Venom, and the other is basically a tenant here?” Overhaul asked. “Yes, you pick up quickly, Big Boss.” Cathal said with a sideways grin. Shin and Hasi both wanted to warn him not to mouth off, before Overhaul gave a quick gesture to ignore his barbs. “So what are you paying exactly for it’s rent?” Mimic asked carefully, pointing a thing black finger at the canister. Cathal reached into his pocket, Shin and Hasi laying hands on their guns within their coats carefully, before he pulled out a notepad. He handed it over to Overhaul, who looked it over carefully, before raising another eyebrow in surprise. “That is quite a bit. I’d almost not need Eri if I was getting that much.” Overhaul remarked to himself. “How are you getting this much money?” “We have our ways.” Cormac replied with a distant look in his eyes. “You need only be concerned with keep Carnage in one place.” “Even if your Agency isn’t after us, this other group you’re part of could turn on us,” Overhaul replied with narrowed eyes. “What’s to stop that?” “Your trust,” Cathal remarked with an eerie smile, before pulling out and clicking on a pen. “And whatever amount you want. Do we have a deal?” A few hours later, after Cormac had deposited Carnage safely, and left Overhaul with the container holding Anti-Venom, the Doctor walked out, cane clicking across the sidewalk as he happily hummed to himself. He pulled out his phone, leaning heavily on his cane, as he clicked the speed dial, and waited. “Did you distribute our fellows among the Shie Hassakei?” A Voice asked on the other end. “Yes, Supreme Prophet Al’Hazred, we positioned our two pieces nicely.” Dr. Cathal replied, keeping his voice low, as another, almost inhuman smile came to his lips. “What now?” “Return to the Agency, and wait.” Kitab ordered. “Nakajima and Midoriya will do the rest for us.” Cathal nodded, as he walked into the shadows of an alleyway, and quite literally, vanished within the darkness, disappearing from any sight or cameras that could’ve been watching him. It was as though he had not been there at all. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ A few hours after the chaotic evacuation and Police and Medics checking and seeing to the health of all the citizens and survivors, Izuku and his part of the group meet back up with Todoroki and Momo, getting to the police and passing on Bakugou to the authorities. He was quiet the whole time, seemingly struck silent by his inner thoughts and struggles. It wasn’t their place to pry, and so decided to leave him alone to process his thoughts and talk with the more capable adults. Once everything was checked out for them and they retrieved their cloths, the five meet back up at the train station, preparing for the long ride home. It was a night that felt like weeks had passed instead of hours, and all of them could use the sleep. Iida was still shaking ever so slightly from the nerves, and the rest were obviously exhausted. After saying their good-byes, Izuku settled into the train heading back to Mostafu, collapsing into the train seats, shaking his head to himself, looking out the window with a vacant, gaze in his eyes. Venom was silent for the whole trip. The two stopped at the last station home, going off and heading first to Mrs. Chen’s store, grabbing some supplies, then heading home. He opened the door, taking a deep breath in. He entered their apartment, immediately greeted by his worried mother. “All Might certainly had a lot of trouble. I’m grateful you weren’t there. You had enough trouble getting home without that.” She said, sounding relieved to have her son back. “Yep.” Izuku said simply. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. His mother gave him a last worried look, before turning to get back in the living room, Izuku trudging over to his bedroom, throwing up the door, and flopping down on it. Venom shoot a tentacle out, closing the door, as Izuku immediately went to sleep. The whole ordeal was a lot to take in. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ As Izuku was arriving home, All Might’s surgery had been completed. Despite some severe damage to his leg, hip and rib bones, and to his remaining lung and arm and leg muscles, he would make a full recovery. Unlike the first bout, All for One had not managed to completely ravage his body beyond repair. He had to say his prayers and count every last lucky star in the sky for that one. His right arm was in a slight, the other wrapped like a mummy in wraps, his side and much of his body. After ensuring he was safe and stabilized, he was allowed visitors. Tsukauchi had a few bruises and scratches from his encounter with the Nomu horde, while Torino had the left side of his face covered wrappings, and bandages over some new battle scars. What surprised Toshinori the most was the appearance of Daisuke Nakajima, his right eye covered in a bandage, with a black eyepatch over it, his right arm in a sling, the other, holding a set of crutches for his left leg. “Nakajima. I’m surprised you’re up.” Toshinori greeted in surprise, though slightly worried he might be pushing himself too much. “I still got enough anti-Nuclear Bacteria to clean out Chernobyl in me, but I can walk.” He replied with his usual stoic expression. “It’s good you’re here, because I want to include you in this.” Toshinori replied with a nod, looking to the other two to confer with them. “if that’s all right.” “I’ve known his family. His grandfather was as good a friend as Nana. He’s a trustworthy one.” Gran Torino replied with a nod, leaning heavily on his old cane. “I have no objections.” Tsukauchi remarked. Daisuke looked around carefully for a moment, as Tsukauchi grabbed a chair, offering it to first Torino, who refused, then to Nakajima, who also refused, before sitting himself beside All Might. “Nakajima, my Quirk, One for All, can be passed onto successors, giving them boosted power and strength compared to the last person. I’m the Eighth one to hold it.” Toshinori explained carefully. “I wanted Izuku Midoriya to be my successor.” “Understandable.” Nakajima replied with a nod, not seemingly surprised by any of this. “Can you still access it? Those injuries...” “I have full range of abilities, just for a set time.” Yagi said with a nod. “Once I pass it on, it will start to burn away.” “And then we lose our Symbol of Peace once and for all.” Nakajima replied grimly, nodding to himself. “Do you want me to move operations back to Japan for you? I’ve been in America for my movie career and other things, but I can come home full time.” “Not quite.” Toshinori replied, shaking his head, and raising his last good hand to stop him. “I will need to dedicate myself to teaching Young Midoriya full time going forward, and I need your and Gran Torino’s help.” “He’s a spirited one, for sure.” Gran Torino remarked with a nod. “I’d like a shot at training him.” “It will have to wait for Venom to...recover.” Daisuke replied carefully, nodding to All Might. “We should wait til both of you are at top health before the transfer.” “Agreed. The world will still need All Might for a little bit.” Tsukauchi added. “That. And there’s still one more thing I gotta do.” Toshinori stated firmly, the fires of determination returning to his eyes. Gran Torino narrowed his eyes, giving a weary glance. “Tomura Shigaraki is the Grandson of our dear Nana Shimura.” “That Nana Shimura?” Nakajima asked carefully. “Gramps spoke highly of her. How could this be?” “Yeah, don’t forget who told us this to begin with.” Tsukauchi cautioned, looking among the group carefully. “All for One has every reason to want to toy with us mentally.” “You two didn’t keep in contact with the Shimura family?” Nakajima asked. “No. Nana’s husband was murdered. To keep her sun safe, she put him up in the foster care system, to keep him from the world of heroes,” Torino explained with a note of sadness in his voice. “She told me and Toshinori to not contact him if anything happened to her.” “And that promise was twisted by All for One into this,” Tsukauchi remarked with a sad shake of the head. “To think, one of my master’s descendants could fall so hard into evil,” Toshinori stated bitterly, clenching a fist. “I have to find him, reach out to him and...” “And what, Toshinori? If you treat him as anything less then a villain, only tragedy can follow.” Gran Torino stated firmly. “No matter his ancestry, he’s still a dangerous criminal.” “There’s worse news.” Nakajima stated, looking to the group in worry. “That one Villain with them, ‘X’, I have every reason to believe he’s related to my own nemesis, an ancient Villain I put away a long time ago.” “I have a bad feeling I know which one...” Tsukauchi mumbled to himself in worry. “If All for One and the Golden Demise are working together, I have to find out.” Daisuke declared stubbornly. “I have to reach X, and help him. He may not be a foregone figure like his father, his actions and attitude tell me as much. I have to try and save him.” “All the same, it’s for the best you watch Midoriya as well.” Gran Torino replied carefully. “X is now in with a group that’s done incredible damage. Even if he’s nothing like his father, it won’t stay that way. Tsukauchi and I will handle the arrests. You can reach out to either of them once we know they can’t do any more harm.” “That sounds good.” Toshinori replied, looking down at his injuries morosely. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Within the Hero Public Safety Commissions’ HQ, were the leading figures of the operations that coordinated and lead heroes. Giving out licenses, writing and reworking the codes of conduct, investigating malpractice and Hero Brutality within the ranks. It was all the sort of stuff that anyone could expect, bu their fingers reached far further then simply that. Some of those more weary of them, whispered they were involved in operations that defied any laws, and even the recruitment of Hero Hopefuls as their private soldiers. The President, with 9 of the top figures in the HPSC, were seated, discussing the recent loss of All Might’s status as the legendary unstoppable hero. “All Might’s injury is now public knowledge.” One of the officials said worriedly, his face resembling a Kamodo Dragon, his hands like scaled-talons. “Even if he doesn’t retire, he’ll be recovering for many months, and if he does get back to work, Civilian and Villain alike will know his limits.” “The police chiefs said relying on one man could be bad.” Another remarked with a sigh, rubbing a hand through his thinning gray hair. “Now we see where that leads.” “All for One is being held at least in Tartarus, and we’ve scattered his Nomu across other high-level prisons,” A third stated tiredly, paging through some papers. “But the hangar didn’t have the proper facilities for that level of biologic reconstruction, and the bar is scrubbed of any evidence we could use to find Shigaraki.” “Speaking of biology, we need good news on things,” The President said, shooting a determined glare at the ASTF leader. “I hope you have some for us in the Ogasawara research base.” The Boss, as always, did not appear in person, but rather via an experimental hologram, his face obscured in shadow, as steppled his fingers in front of him, one leg crossed over his knee. “Yes, actually. The research I’ve developed will change things.” He declared with a prideful note in his modulated voice. “I, with my teams and Doctor Cathal, am nearing the end of the First Phase. With US Soldier, Lee Price as the first Field Test Subject for our new batch of Heroes we can deploy.” “What exactly is this you’re working on?” The first demanded, narrowing his reptilian eyes in annoyance. “You hide behind proxies, you never meet face to face, you scurry off to an island with some of our best agents, and only tell us that it’s ‘Operation:Black Death’. What is going on?” The President spoke up before any others could join in, cutting through the agitation instantly. “Kotaio Hanashinku is working on something too important to compromise. Do not let his idiosyncrasies distract from his results.” The hologram did not move from his position, narrowing his eyes slightly at his rival. The holographic figure nodded slightly to the President before speaking again. “I can bring it to completion. No time at all, we will have the ability to turn even Quirkless children into Heroes with few weaknesses.” “What has Lee Price done to deserve this supposed gift, Hanshinku?” Another asked. “If this works as well as you claim it does, at this stage, why not give it to the Heroes who work directly for us, like Hawks, Gyges and his brothers, etc?” “Early development. I have high hopes, but if there are glitches in this, Lee Price will be the one we’ll work them out of,” Kotaio explained coldly. “If this is found to be perfect, everyone, from Slidin’ Go, to All Might himself, can receive these ‘implants’ and be all the more equipped for their jobs. Sickness will not hobble them, injuries will be healed instantly. I can do this.” “Even if All Might doesn’t retire, we are calculating an 80% chance of a 35% increase in crime in the coming months and weeks.” Another board member replied stoically. “Get Lee Price outfitted and ready, and we’ll see just how well your new ‘implants’ work, Kotaio.” The Hologram nodded, as the President gave him a weary glance. Even with small aspects and details known about the project, she didn’t know the full details. She had hoped giving him free reign wouldn’t come back to bite her. “You have other jobs to see to, Kotaio?” She asked. “Yes, Madam.” He replied gruffly. “Then you may see to them.” “Yes ma’am.” He said, bowing his head, as the hologram flickered off. Kotaio stood up from his chair, smoothing his suit, as he turned to the board to his right. His hotel room was dimly lite, keeping him framed in shadow. He looked around, his eyes wide with fury and paranoia for a moment, before he focused on the board. There, were pictures of Izuku Midoriya, Tomura Shigaraki, Daisuke Nakajima and others involved in the case. He walked towards it slowly, laying a hand on the board, as he glared intently at Izuku Midoriya. “Of all the malcontents to come to my sphere of influence, you are the most interesting, intriguing. And the most dangerous!” He turned away, clenching his fists in rage, his teeth bared like an animal. “A boy can have dreams, but these monsters do not. They claw and eat and kill and devour worlds. And now one toys with me as we speak. It joins UA, like a normal child. It learns, like a normal child. It befriends others, like a normal child. But I know that malign intelligence within!” He went over to a desk, barring folders and profiles of all the Class 1-A students who would be linked to Izuku. He paged through the one for Katsuki Bakugou, teeth still bared like a wolf. “Has his mother noticed a change behavior? His friend, Bakugou, perhaps? Surely, even if it could hide it’s behavior and emulate it’s host, it would’ve made a mistake!” He tossed away the folders onto the old, beat-up bed, before digging his nails and fingertips into the desk. “My agents have to get closer to you, Venom, and give me the proof that you’re a threat! You can’t hide your nature!” He closed his fists tightly on the edges of the desk, smashing it into splintered wood and chunks as his fists shook with rage, drops of blood tracing down from his fingertips and palms, but he barely seemed to notice. “All for One called you and your kind here before we could prepare, and now I cannot punish him for disrupting the way of things in the world.” He growled to himself, shoulders hunched. “But I will not let this surprise ruin my plans!” He went over to the picture of Daisuke Nakajima, glaring off to the right, dressed in a suit instead of his usual ‘Bancho’ Hero outfit. His eye twitched with annoyance at the sight. “The way of things cannot be disrupted, even by a hero. I cannot entrust this to any of my subordinates. Your niece, the Hero-in-training Mina Ashido, will become an example for you, Nakajima.” He looked to the folder, eyes narrowed, releasing his fists as the blood continued to run down them, before the wounds sealed themselves up. ‘He will not, after what occurred with Katsuki Bakugou, let his family be easy to reach.’ He stopped in an instant as one of his burner phones went off, his breath catching in his throat as a feral growl escaped his lips. He clenched a fist in rage, standing there for a moment, eyes unblinking, his entire body tensed up, not sure if this was happening, before slowly walking over. The number was not available. Someone he didn’t know had found a burner number he used. ‘I specifically have my numbers not listed for telemarketers and other scam calls.’ He thought in disgust, the blood rushing in his ears. ‘This is one of my rivals, prying into my business. Trying to gag my weaknesses.’ He picked it up, studying it for a moment, before calmly flipping it open and answering. “Yes, who is this and how did you get this number?” “Hello, is this Hanashinku Kotaio?” An unfamiliar voice asked, it’s tone easy-going and relaxed. “How do you know my name and number?” He snarled, his voice low and filled with barely controlled rage. “It’s not important, Mr. Hanashinku. What is important, is your subjects of interest.” The voice replied. “Do you think you can toy with me?” He snarled. “What do you want?” “The Venom Symbiote within Izuku Midoriya, is pregnant.” The voice remarked. “You could do much with this right? Venom will be weakened from the process, the newborn will be fresh and ready to mold. All of this, and more, is an easy victory for you.” He said nothing for a moment, breathing hard, as he focused on the words, repeating them to himself within his head, before speaking again in a hushed, angry tone. “Are. You. Sure?” “I am not toying with you, Kotaio. The Symbiote will reproduce.” The mysterious man assured him. “Keep your agents tracking it, and you will have anything you could want.” “If your tip is worthwhile, thank you,” He replied, his voice soft and congratulatory at first, before it shifted again into his fouler tone. “Either way, I won’t allow someone to know me and my business. I will find you.” “Pleasure doing business.” The voice replied, hanging up before he could offer any more threats. Kotaio growled, holding the phone before him in rage. “This, this is worse then anything else. The Flow of Balance, requires Heroes maintain the current society as constant. And, it requires me to rule from beyond the touch of anyone, even fate itself!” He smashed his phone to smithereens within his hand, releasing the pieces to the floor. “I will not let anything threaten my eternal equilibrium.” He crushed the pieces that remained beneath his shoes, turning back to the board, his eyes focused and intent upon Izuku Midoriya’s face for a long time, before shifting his focus to Mina Ashido. Even with the chaos caused by All Might’s reveal and the League of Villains, his plans and Eternal Equilibrium, would be unchallenged by anyone, be they hero or villain.

"I hope you don't mind my sudden visit, Xiao," Mr. Zhongli enters his apartment. His crisp black coat smells of expensive tea. The kind that Xiao would most likely not be able to appreciate. "Not at all sir," this is your property, after all . It has been a while since he's talked to his sponsor through texts, and even longer since they've seen each other. He doesn't really know much regarding the happenings in the Jade Chamber. Ganyu talks about it to him every now and then, but it's clear that she knows Xiao finds it a bore. Thank goodness for him really. Even if he tried his best, the likelihood of him understanding all that techno-babble is close to zero. Xiao was about to close the door when a mass of purple entered the apartment after Mr. Zhongli.  Oh, it's Qiqi .  She's a small girl of pale white skin with lavender? Lilac? Some sort of light purple hair. There's a sluggishness to her steps and movements that always grated on Xiao, but he had always attributed it to her being a child.  A child that seems to always be tired, never an ounce of energy to her. Shouldn’t children be more energetic at their age? Now that he thinks about it, she doesn't seem to have grown all too much from when he last saw her. Granted, it's not by literal years. She could just be growing slowly. She's also the reason he and Ganyu were able to trust Mr. Zhongli. Before they had gotten under his care, Qiqi was already there. She was his daughter of sorts, adoptive, though she's never really heard her refer to him as father, or dad, or papa for that matter. He's never heard Mr. Zhongli refer to her with some sort of endearment either. Regardless, she is very well taken care of; from what Xiao and Ganyu can tell. There's a trust between them that Xiao thinks only those with a familial bond could ever achieve.  Though, there is the question about her general demeanor.  "Qiqi, you remember Xiao. Say hello." The small girl turns and gives him a small bow. "Hello, Xiao gēge." "Yeah, hello," Xiao says, hesitance clear in his voice. She always referred to him as an older brother. It wasn't unwelcome, just…odd. What's even odder was after she gave a nod of acknowledgement, she immediately grabs his hand. That isn't odd on its own. What's odd is how she holds it. She digs her thumb into the space between his thumb and his forefinger. Real hard, massaging it in circles as if she's trying to pop something in his flesh. It's a bit painful in all honesty, but he never had the heart to tell her to stop. She is just a kid after all. He closes the door behind them, Qiqi still holding his hand. "What brings you here today, sir?" "Straight to the point, I see," Mr. Zhongli hums. "Were you in the middle of something when I arrived, Xiao?" "No, sir. Not at all," he hasn't really been up to a lot these days other than moping. "It's just… you haven't been here for a while." "Yes, well. Things have been rather busy these days. I've had to do a lot of field work recently," he sighs, pensive as he stares outside through the open window in the room. The sky is blue and clear of clouds. Some would even call it pleasant enough to spend the day outside. "Today and the weeks after are the same." "Sir?" "I will be out for a long while and, well, I've set a babysitter for Qiqi but she hasn't been off her work at the Dawn Winery yet. And Ganyu is almost just as busy as I am nowadays. I was hoping you could watch over her before the babysitter arrives?" "That's-" Dawn Winery , "-fine, sir. I can- Dawn Winery?" "Yes," Mr. Zhongli nods, still staring outside. "I assume you know of the place?" "I do-" I haven't asked Dirk about Venti in a while , "-the sitter, who?" "Miss Amondine," Qiqi cuts in, looking dazed. Then again, Xiao doesn't think he's ever seen her with a different expression before. She quickly corrects him in a second as she suddenly makes the softest smile Xiao has ever seen on anyone. It looks off on her otherwise pallid face. "She takes good care of Qiqi's friend." Xiao… doesn't really know how to respond to that. Mr. Zhongli seems to have no follow up either, perfectly content as he stares at the outside, his gaze now intense. Maybe there’s a change in the weather, Xiao thinks, but when he looks outside all he sees are a few clouds covering up the sun.  "How do you know Miss Amondine, sir?" "Well, Dawn Winery is a very important business partner," Mr. Zhongli says, "At some point we befriended each other, though I wouldn't be able to tell you how. You're acquainted with her then?" Thunder claps outside so suddenly that Xiao flinches. Qiqi, who hasn't let go of Xiao yet, now holds him with two hands, though her face doesn't really show any apprehension of the sudden sound. Xiao searches the sky for any shades of grey and sure enough, there they were, though he could have sworn that the sky showed no signs of stormy weather until just now. "Y-yes, sir." "Then I won't have to worry about you sending Qiqi to the wrong person." "Yes, sir," how little faith you have in me- "I'd advise bringing Qiqi outside," Mr. Zhongli walks towards the door with haste. He doesn't spare them a glance when he says, "Make sure not to get stuck under the rain." He slams the door behind him before Xiao could mutter, "Yes, sir." With Mr. Zhongli's exit, the room becomes quiet. And deathly awkward. Xiao looks down at Qiqi to get a read on her only to find that she'd already been staring at him. "Uhm," it dawns on Xiao that he has absolutely no idea how to deal with a child. What makes it worse is that Qiqi's face is absolutely blank. He has no idea what to make of it. And she is still holding his hand.  The hand that she is now dragging towards the sofa. She places his hand on the soft furniture. "You want me to sit?" A nod. Xiao sits. And she sits beside him. The awkward atmosphere ensues. He sees Qiqi's mouth move but her voice is too small to hear. "What?" "TV," she points at the screen across them. "Please." He sighs in relief. His shoulders drop considerably. Engaging with children is stressful.  Time passes by extra slowly when you remain still. By his estimate, he should have been sat still for only 50 minutes to an hour, but it feels like two days of his life had just gone by.  Qiqi remains static beside him, leaning on his arm with her hands holding the remote. She has changed the channel at least five times now, to Xiao's count, at least. It's quite likely he blanked out a few times and didn't notice her change the channel. Right now, the program seems to be about a girl who befriends a ghost named Casper. It's a bit plain for Xiao's taste; that and he hasn't really been paying attention, but Qiqi seems to be enjoying it. Again, at least he thinks she is. Her face hasn't moved a bit other than the occasional blinks. From his perspective, she looks… dead. What a morbid and exaggerated way to say that she looks stoic. Venti must be getting into his head, with his flowery words and all.  Venti… "Xiao gēge," Qiqi pulls at his shirt gently. "Where can I get cold water?" "Uh-," hearing her talk always catches him off guard. "In the kitchen." She stares at him still. Her eyes… so wide yet so- "Where in the kitchen?" "The- the fridge…" "Kitchen, fridge," she nods after each word. "Got it." She makes a little 'hup!' before climbing down the couch. As her foot steps skitter away into the kitchen, Xiao wonders how Mr. Zhongli got a hold of such an odd girl.  Why were they using the cable service? Qiqi would have had a wider selection of films to choose from if she used the streaming service. Xiao wasn't paying his full attention, but even then the commercials would somehow invade his otherwise peaceful state of mind. Annoying. Xiao was never one to complain though. At least it kept Qiqi still. Speaking of, where is she? It's been a good while or so, but Xiao hasn't heard water being dispensed from the kitchen. The kitchen wasn't big, but did she get lost somehow? "...Qiqi? Are you… okay?" Silence, and then he hears a very faint, "Kitchen, fridge… cup?" That didn't sound too bad, but Xiao had to make sure. He heads to the kitchen and finds Qiqi jumping as high as she can to reach a cup on top of a counter. Her efforts are… frankly, useless. Xiao reaches one out for her. She nods dutifully. "Are you okay?" He says out of a sense of responsibility. She looked perfectly fine. "Are you hurt anywhere?" Her hands tighten on the cup. "Qiqi, is not growing at all." Dumbfounded. Xiao is inclined to agree. He doesn't know much about children, but Qiqi really doesn't look like she's grown the last time he saw her. But that's not something you say out loud, isn't it? At least Venti wouldn't, he thinks. The words he spoke about people were always positive (save for the on and off jokes). What would Venti say to Qiqi? "That's not true. I'm sure you did, one way or another." No, that's not it. But it's out of his mouth now. That will have to do. Qiqi's expression (or lack thereof) doesn't change, but she gives him a nod. Xiao sighs in relief, then wishes he didn't (out loud at least). They continue watching, but it's an entirely different film. A relatively old film about dinosaurs. Xiao failed to keep track of the plot, getting too side-tracked with how well done the special effects were. The dinosaurs almost looked real, and this was made when ? Qiqi seems invested at least. He can hear her whisper under her breath the names of the dinosaurs that appear on screen, though he can’t tell if she was right. Behind him, by his windowsill, a soft pitter patter starts. Small droplets of water fall from the slowly darkening sky. They bounce off from the window to his neck with an uncomfortable chill. How had he not noticed that the weather had changed so quickly? He returns his attention to the TV only to find Qiqi staring right at him, eyes blank but intense in a way that Xiao couldn’t understand. He sits still, frozen for a moment, until his posture gives out and he backs away and notices that Qiqi didn’t follow his line of movement. She had been staring at the darkening sky too. “Oh,” Xiao scratches his neck. “Did you want to go out, maybe?” Qiqi doesn’t react. “S-sorry, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Qiqi nods, then returns her attention to the TV. Xiao manages to sigh in relief when she changes the channel- channels, so suddenly. What is she looking for? The rain from outside crashes down like drums with thunder. It’s getting the couch wet, so Xiao closes the window.  Qiqi seems to have found what she’s looking for. She stops at a news channel, the rain from outside seemingly overshadowed by how strong and loud the rain was at the TV. He could hardly hear the newscaster, who was holding onto his microphone for dear life. He didn’t look safe there, like he could be swept away by the wind at any given moment. His voice came out choppy through the speakers. The cameraman seems to be having a hard time standing his ground.  - weather- - - - intense winds and rain pouring d- - - over at the fields - - - - - - unprecedented - - - - nearby towns - - - - - - citizens forced to evacuate under - - - - - notice. I have never seen rain - - - - this hard and so su- - - - - enly. - - - - already flooding in - - - - - and soon enough, the roads will be - - - blocked by!!! Lord have me- - - - - - landslides caused by the flooding! A streak of purple lightning flashes against the almost black sky behind him. It’s only then that Xiao realizes it was nowhere near evening, yet the sky behind the newscaster looked almost like night time.  - - - everyone’s safety, please - - - - getting out of your homes! If you live - - - - , please, evacuate as soon as - - - - - - - -. No news on when the - - - - - - - - will move on, we will try - - - - - - - - keep you updated! Fuck! A large branch almost hits the newscaster by the face. The camera shakes.  Let’s get out of here! The live broadcast stops, moving on to the news anchors who look very concerned. Positioned on the screen seems to be a live broadcast of the area affected by the… storm is a light word to use for it. The footage seems to be taken from a helicopter and - compared to the actual footage, the camera itself doesn’t seem to be in too much danger. In fact, it looks relatively safe. But the storm . Contained would be the best word to put it. Like a dark and giant cloud hovering only in one area. In that dark area, the downpour is nothing like Xiao has ever seen at a distance. Thunder can be heard every other minute. The visibility is close to zero. There’s no telling what’s happening inside the contained storm. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of people surrounding that area though; seems to be the countryside.  Now that he looks at it more, it… is that the area where the Dawn Winery is? He isn’t too sure. It could be but, there’s more of the countryside that Xiao hasn’t seen.  He hopes not. He hopes he’s wrong. He hopes Dirk and Kaya and the others are okay. Dear- what if Venti is there? Caught in the storm? That- such a thought. He couldn’t be there, right? If he was at the Dawn Winery, Dirk would tell him so, right? Then again if this was happening near the Dawn Winery, Dirk wouldn’t have the leisure to tell him anything.  He feels his vision crackle as the scent of ozone creeps in from the spaces in the window. God. Gods , no. Please, something, someone, give him a sign. Tell him Venti isn’t there. Please. And… and Dirk. Kaya. Amondine. That’s right, Amondine was supposed to pick up Qiqi. But Venti. Venti. Is he safe? “Ow!” A sharp pain from his hand jolts him out of his thoughts.  Qiqi stares at him, still and quiet. For a second, he sees what he could call concern in her eyes. “Xiao gēge?” “Qiqi- you-” “Is Xiao gēge scared of thunder?” “You-” Xiao swallows air. Him? Afraid of thunder … is he? No, he isn’t. Of course he isn’t . He probably wouldn’t even die from getting struck by lightning. How could he ever explain to a child that his state of distress comes from something more than just a fear of thunder? “Yeah, yeah, I think, I think so.” Explaining it would be too much of a hassle. Qiqi changes the channel. “No more thunder.” He purses his lips, not too sure of how to respond. He settles with a pat on her head and a quiet, “Thank you.” Xiao doesn’t know when they fell asleep on the couch. What he does know is the lights are somehow off, and Qiqi is currently on his chest, cuddling him as if he’s a pillow. Only static comes from the TV with the connection seemingly off. He panics for a moment before realizing that if he squirms, he might disturb her sleep, so he winds himself down.  Though, it would help if he could move a little. The position isn’t the most comfortable one. Qiqi asleep is quite different from when she’s awake. Awake, she’s almost stoic, yet there’s always some sort of confusion with how she acts, as if she’s never sure of what to do.  Asleep, she’s peaceful. Quiet, but without any pressure. And… still. She’s always been a still child, but asleep she almost looks like she isn’t breathing. He can barely see her back move from breathing. It’s… almost amazing. Too amazing in fact, if Xiao didn’t know any better… he’d think that… Qiqi… “Qiqi?” Before he could shake her awake, he hears a knock on the door. Like a switch, Qiqi’s eyes open. Xiao stays frozen as she scoots down and off him and heads for the door. It must be Amondine then. How long were they asleep?  Qiqi opens the door to greet Amondine, but instead finds Ganyu there with an umbrella, slightly wet from the rain. The rain that was still going, albeit not as hard. “Ganyu?” beside him, Qiqi is frozen.  “Good evening, Xiao,” Ganyu bows. Is it night time already? “I’m here to take Qiqi back.” Qiqi grabs on to his shirt. It seems that she and Xiao share the same concern. Somehow. He gives her a comforting pat on the head. Tries. “Wasn’t someone else supposed to pick her up? Amondine?” “Yeah, from what I was told,” Ganyu tidies her hair. “I don’t know her personally so - it was actually Mr. Zhongli that told me to pick her up. Something came up with her apparently, she texted him… or something.” “She texted him,” Xiao can feel Qiqi sigh in relief. This is a good sign, right?  “Is it really safe for her to travel in this weather? Wouldn’t it be better if she stayed the night over?” He feels Qiqi nod against his shirt.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Zhongli insisted,” she bows her head. “He said he’d feel better if she was at home. He has people to watch over her there.” Xiao looks at her. “Are you okay with this?” Qiqi looks at the floor, then at Xiao… then at Ganyu. Slowly, hesitantly, she releases Xiao’s shirt and stretches her hand towards Ganyu. Ganyu bends down and reaches for her, carrying her almost effortlessly in her arms.  “Good girl, Qiqi. Thank you,” Ganyu says. Behind her, a car waits. At least they wouldn’t be commuting in the rain.  “We better be off then,” Ganyu bows her head at Xiao. “Thanks for watching over her for a bit. Stay safe, okay?” He nods. “You too.” He waits for them to get to the car safely, and waves at them as the car drives away before re-entering his home. Qiqi… he’s known her for quite some time, but this is probably the first time he’s ever got to spend some time alone with her. She had always been this odd enigma to him, and even though they spent time together, he’s not even close to understanding her.  But… there’s a quiet solidarity between them that he’s only noticed now. A kind of not knowing what to do that they share with each other. Is it the amnesia? Mr. Zhongli mentioned her having some sort of amnesia, the sort where she couldn’t remember new things. Anterograde, was it? Knock. Maybe it was that, or something different. One thing is for sure: children are hard to deal with. Qiqi wasn’t unpleasant, but he’d rather not have to take care of her alone ever again. Knock knock. Did he hear that right? Is it Ganyu? Did they leave something here? Knock knock knock. It isn’t frantic, but it isn’t soft either. He opens the door. “Ganyu? Did you forget something aga-” Xiao freezes as someone tackles him. No, not tackle . An embrace. Cold, soaking from the rain. No weight into it, but sturdy enough that he couldn’t push the person off and- -crying . They’re crying. And that smell. That voice. That voice .  “Ven… Venti ?” He isn't doing well with keeping his voice from cracking. “They’re gone. Xiao, they’re gone .” “ Gone? ” He’s back and his mind is still somewhere- “You came back- ” “ Please, ” the wetness of his voice is unmistakable. The sobbing, sniffling, his fingers clawing at Xiao’s back. All unmistakable. Xiao could only bring himself to return the embrace as his mind races with so many things, so many thoughts, all at once. They were loud enough to cover the TV coming back from the white noise, with a voice frantic and screaming through the camera. - It’s -  it’s gone! The Dawn Winery. It’s gone! It’s completely gone!