#I feel like I was just handed a sinister fortune cookie

[clonerightsagenda]

me @ thriftbooks:

#I feel like I was just handed a sinister fortune cookie

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (7)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Twinkle twinkle little star...

How I wonder what you are...

You hear this refrain as you try to escape him. You run desperately through these long corridors that follow each other and collide like an endless Labyrinth. But the more you advanced the more you heard that voice.  

Hold your breath and count to ten...

Praise your Lord it’s soon the end...

You suddenly find yourself in front of a dead end. It's getting closer... A sinister sneer was heard.

Twinkle twinkle little star...

Time for you to fall and ... DIE.  

A white mask appears in front of you with a knife in his hand. You wake up startled and sweaty, panting and putting a hand on your chest. Then a sigh of relief, all this was a nightmare. Since your conversation with Ghostface, this nightmare haunts you, this feeling of insecurity, knowing that it could appear at any time to kill you... it was horrible.

You're watching your alarm clock, 9:30. Fortunately for you, it's your day off, you have to take your day too, right? You stretch for a long time before heading to the bathroom to pass some water over your face.

“Come on, I've been through a lot worse than being the target of a fucking lunatic. He said that, until I tell the police, he won't kill me. He will eventually forget me, I'm sure... At least, I hope so.”  

After you get dressed you leave the bathroom to prepare breakfast, then you sit in front of the television to find out the news of the day. As you listened to the news, your eyes turned to the pictures hanging on the walls.  

A photo catches your attention in particular: Your parents sit at the beach, your mother holding you in her arms, your father smiling with all his teeth fresh bottles of beer in his hand. it was your uncle who took this picture and gave it to your mother as a souvenir. Then she gave it to you.

No brothers and sisters, you're an only child. But you didn’t have the feeling of solitude that all the unique children had because your parents have always been there. You shake your head, your eyes closed, then you get up to kiss the photo softly before sitting back on the sofa.  

The information is quite repetitive nothing new, nor interesting. You change channels until you stumble upon a series, when someone knocks on the door. given the force in the door knocks, it could only be Mrs. Lawson who surely brought you your mail. or cookies.

“Mrs Lawson! Do you need something?” you said with a bright smile.  

“Oh no my dear...in fact, I made cookies and I thought you would like to have some. I’ve followed your advices and James loves them more than before!” She responds with a laugh holding you a packet full of cookies.  

“Well thanks! But please come in! I’ll make some tea! Earl Gray, I presume?  

“Yes, Thank you sweetheart. What a lovely home you have! It's really different compared to the ancient tenant. He was always absent and this place was the kingdom of dust. Excepted for the bedroom and the bathroom, he never cleaned anything here.”

“Ewwww...Fortunately for him I wasn’t living here with him, otherwise I'll kick his ass for being such lazy. Don’t worry that’s not my case! This is and will stay as clean as the first day!” you said as you prepared and put the tea on the table. “You and Mr Lawson are a lovely couple; how did you meet him?”

“Oh, James and I, we've known each other since we were kids, we’re going to the same school. He was playful and a little impatient. But he was a loyal friend and his kindness was endless. And I'm not talking about the charm he had with women. The only flaw I can find is that he is often distracted and it's not new, I can’t remember how many times he goes to the infirmary. Then we each made our way... and 41 years ago, to the day, we dated. And since then, I've never left him. At 71 and 72 years old we still have the spirit we had when we were 30!” She chuckles before taking a sip of her tea.

“Well, your Kids must be proud to have parents who have loved each other so much all this time as you. And your grandchildren too! “

“oh, if only I had...Unfortunately, I am sterile and we have never been able to have children... but James never abandoned me even for that.”

“Oh...I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to...” You said really embarrassed.  

“It’s nothing. Is this your family on those photos? Your parents must be proud to have a beautiful and kind girl like you. I envy them so much. It must have been difficult for them to see their little girl leave the house...I'll hope you call them sometimes to reassure them.”

You remain silent on her last words. The situation is...complicated and too many things come to your mind. Things you'd rather have forgotten forever. And others you want to keep until your last day. You talk for a few more minutes with Mrs. Lawson, whom you learned during the discussion that her name was Meredith, before she left your apartment smiling and more lightly having someone to talk to when her husband is not there.

You put everything in the sink to wash it, and the packet of cookies in one of the kitchen closets, where all your treats are usually located. But shhh... It's a secret. Then you look at the piece of paper on your fridge which is Jed’s number.  

He gave it to you when needed. But you don't want to disturb him, risk his life. After all what will Ghostface do if he ever realizes that Jed is also in confidence? he said he would not kill him as it was because of him that he was the star of Roseville. But if he ever realizes that he knows far too much... You shake your head, preferring not to think in what state he might leave that poor Jed if the urge to kill him took Ghostface.

You head to your room, to look at the different dresses you had for the reception. Jed and his colleagues have warned you that proper dress is required once there and everyone knows that for the rich, proper dress means for us an outfit bordering on the overpriced.

“well then, what do I have in there that could do the trick? This one? No, too eccentric. Maybe this one? Hm... No, too flash, if I want to look like a traffic light this dress is perfect. Oh, maybe this one! No no no, too English schoolgirl...”

You looking during 30 minutes before giving up. None of these dresses will fit darling, you'll have to buy one... luckily you were saving for this kind of situation. A clothing emergency doesn't prevent!  

You take your bag before leaving the apartment, determined to find this dress. The one that not only will allow you not to get thrown out, but that may impress Jed. Hold on... What?

“But what am I thinking... Remains serious mollusc brain! Jed is your neighbour, nothing more! Even if he has a rather pleasant physique to look at, an angel face and eyes... Ahhhh his eyes... but what's wrong with me???”

“huh...You’re okay?”  

Note to yourself: never talk alone or we'll think you're crazy. You turn to face Jed, looking at you a little worried but also surprised. You laugh slightly embarrassed when trying to find your words. Good luck.

“Oh Jed! Hum yes, I'm fine! I was just...going outside...” you start before sighing “sorry... I'm going out for an emergency dress. For the reception. Unfortunately, I have none that will allow me not to find myself outside at the entrance...”

“I suspected it a little ... Then... I thought you'd like it.” He said holding a packet to you.  

“oh Jed...You shouldn’t...I can’t, really...” you replied before open the package pulling out a beautiful purple dress. “She’s beautiful. How do you know that was my favourite color?”

“I didn’t know. But... I thought you'd be the only person worthy of wearing her in this town.”

“Thanks...You know what? Tonight, I'll pay you for the restaurant! And I insist! If you refuse, no more cakes.” you laugh.

“Yes, ma'am. I give in to such a threat, I care too much about your cakes for that.” he said raising his hands in the air, laughing too. “See you tonight then”. He replied before leaving. You look at the dress while going home.  

That won't stop you from buying one for tonight. Well, it will not be a luxury dress either, but at least enough to be presentable. Brushing your hair a little won't be too much either. Because I doubt that, being dressed in sweatshirts and jeans is the best idea of the century. And above all... be careful. No inappropriate topics and no questions too personal.

You fold and store the purple dress in an empty locker in your wardrobe before you go out to buy tonight's dress. you take the opportunity to go to the café to check that nothing has been stolen or vandalized. You make at least three clothing stores before you find your dress: black with white and red floral pattern with very short sleeves. Simple, soft but effective. On the way you met Lindsey, the florist who, thanks to you, saw her clientele increase.

In the evening, dressed and coiffed, you and Jed left the building to go to dinner. From a distance, we might think you're a young couple dating. You both agreed to a Chinese restaurant, one of the best in Roseville. While eating you were discussing about everything and nothing... let's say you ask more questions about him than he does about you.

“I never thought you'd have had so many adventures... But... I want to know more. I want to know about little Jed Olsen, the pure boy from Florida.” you said eating a spring roll.  

“Well, I don't see what more I could tell you about me... When I was little, the other kids thought I was...weird. And they made fun of me because I was the "chouchou" of the school, the poor and weak Jed Olsen. As I told you before, my parents considered me as a mistake. You suspect that they were not going to defend me... they were acting in front of everyone but then...” he responds taking a sip of wine.

“I’m sorry... I don't understand how they can be so horrible with a child...Look at you today! You have a job, a fairly stable situation, you are a beautiful young man... and they miss all that. Just because you're a mistake to them.”

“I managed on my own as soon as I could. I had to have... 15/16 when I emancipated myself. it wasn't easy, but it taught me two or three things. But let's talk about you. Miss Rainbow.”

“hey I had the prettiest rainbow dress! my mother and I had spent a whole day doing it. And it paid off. Otherwise, I don't have much to say either. A normal life... a teenager... almost normal. A mundane life in short. And then I wanted to fly on my own. To create something personal. That's why I moved here.”

“And how did your parents react? I guess they must have cried when they saw you leave the family nest.”

“It’s...complicated. I don’t wanna talk about that. For now.”

He simply nods before eating again. After paying the bill for both meals, you leave the restaurant with Jed, laughing at one of his work anecdotes. Although he remains shy about some things, Jed seems more comfortable with you. As you were about to return to the car, several men stood in front of you, armed with iron bars. Instinctively you take Jed's hand and squeeze it tightly.

“What do you want?” Ask Jed calmly.

“Nothing to do with you, redhead. The boss has a message for her. So, get out of there, or you're going to taste my bar.” respond one of them.  

“Ready to run?” Jed replied looking at you holding tightly your hand. When you nod, he hits hard enough in a trash can to send it over your aggressors before pulling you by the hand to escape. “Come on! This way!”

“GET THEM BOYS !!!” Scream one of them.

You follow Jed blindly, while memorizing the path taken in case you manage to sow them to return to the car. After a while you find yourself in a dead end, your pursuers getting closer little by little.

“What do we do now???” you ask panicked and breathless.

“... Give me a hand." He responds pushing a big trash can.  

Placing it so that you could pass on the other side of the wall, you were about to go up when Jed took your hand shaking his head. He hit the lid of the trash can loud enough with his hand to make your assailants, who were getting closer and closer, believe that you were actually climbing the wall. Then taking your hand, he walked down a narrow and closed alley, hiding you both deep so that no one would see you.

Jed beckoned you to remain silent, before taking a light look, hearing the assailants stop in front of the wall. By pure reflex, you tighten against him, your arms tightening around his waist, your face buried in his torso.

“Shit! They managed to escape! Goddamnit, the boss is going to be mad.” said the one of the assailants.

The band leaves after a few minutes. Jed looked at you surprised before smiling slightly and patting your shoulder.

“They’re gone...We can go now. Are you alright?” He asks with a smile.

“Y-yeah... I'm sure it's that guy... McKellan who hired these guys. it seems that he wants more than to send me a message...” you start to say before blushing and releasing Jed. “Sorry...W-we should go home now.”  

You go back to your car, re-borrowing the road and finally go home. What a night! The fear of being attacked at your home wins over you and, while Jed is about to return to his apartment wishing you good night, you stop him by taking his arm.

“Wait! I... I don’t feel safe to sleep alone at home tonight. Can you...can you just stay with me? Promise it will be the first and the last time.”

“Well... if it makes you feel better... Why not.” responds Jed with a smile while Danny smiles devilishly. You let the wolf enter in the sheepfold? Poor you, you don’t know what you do. Even if he sleeps on the sofa, he can now explore better your home.  

You both enter your apartment and prepare something to sleep on the couch for Jed. He didn't mind, he used to do it with work. You take the opportunity to show him where the coffee is and what to eat if he ever gets up before you tomorrow morning.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” you ask.

“Don’t worry. I'll try not to make too much noise. Rest well and relax. I’m here. Good night...and thanks for the restaurant.” he responds with his angelic smile.

“...Good night Jed.” you replied, kissing him on the cheek unwittingly.

You blush when you see him put his hand on his cheek, surprised, and quickly go to your room by closing the door. Your gesture will not remain inconsequential... Maybe it's going to affect your fate. In a way you'll never dare think about it.

***

(Done! I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas to all of you! In these difficult times, nothing beats the Christmas holidays to find some joy and not think about what is happening now! fingers crossed that the year a month is better than this one! If you have questions for me or if you just want to talk, just do!  See ya! )

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

[saijspellhart]

Oh noes! They're snowed in! And it's SOOOOO cold, they even have to share a bed! 😱😱😱

“Avalanchemon!” was the last thing Ladybug heard before she—and subsequently half of Paris—was buried under a mountain of snow.

She expected the cascade of snow to hit harder, to feel more crushing, feel colder, and even braced herself for it. But… something hard and warm had barreled into her chest at the last second, painfully knocking the wind from her lungs and sending them tumbling through the door of a nearby house. A wall of snow followed them inside, spilling harmlessly over their legs, but woefully sealing their exit.

“I take it that akuma was a digimon fan…” grumbled a very familiar voice. “I bet the new reboot really pissed him off.”

Ladybug coughed out a mouthful of snow, and managed to chortle, “He’s certainly raising hail.”

Her partner’s sweet timbre returned a chuckle next to her ear and added, “You’d think all this snow would help him chill out.” It was enough to send shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with blanket of snow covering them both.

For a moment it felt like home, like old times and security. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes to blink up at him that the sleek black leather and warm chartreuse of her memory melted and she was left staring up at pale ivory and sinister magenta.

An awkward silence settled between them, like someone driving a wedge between hearts that had, for the briefest moment, locked fingers. His pupils narrowed into nothing more than slits, as realization seemed to dawn on him. That once soft expression hardening until it was just as cold as the snow around them.

Chat Blanc pushed himself off of her, dislodging some of the ice, and shook himself free from the rest of it. Her breath held when he crawled away from her, slinking low. The temptation to laugh scraped the back of her throat because those Floofy ears of his were stained pink on the tips, and his usually luxurious tail fur was caked with clumps of snow.

“We can’t get out,” he stated flatly.

“What?” Ladybug kicked free of the snow mound and turned towards him, brushing it off her suit.

Chat shoved at a window, but it wouldn’t budge against the wall of white outside. She watched him stalk across the room to the other side, and attempt the other windows, all yielding the same results.

“We should try a higher floor,” she suggested, “maybe something up there will open?”

Chat Blanc started for the stairwell before she even finished the sentence, all too eager to find some sort of escape. No doubt, dreading the thought of being confined so near the spotted heroine; the only person capable of taking away his akumas. Ladybug followed after him, her heart holding out hope that they weren’t trapped inside this building while a snow akuma plunged France into an early ice age.

“No!” Chat bellowed, his voice echoing down the stairwell. “No no no no!”

Ladybug arrived on the top floor only to witness Blanc acting like a caged animal; he scratched against blocked windows, pushing at panes that hardly budged. His claws gouged paint chips from the frames and splintered wood. In one room he ripped the widow from its frame, and began digging wildly into the snow. His hands shoveling desperately at the wall of packed ice until his breaths came out as ragged wheezing.

And still he never reached the top.

About five feet up his tunnel of desperation, the snow collapsed.

If she had not been there to dig him out he might’ve been stuck, might’ve frozen to death. That close shave seemed to finally bring the realization of their predicament down upon Chat Blanc.

We’re trapped in here, together.

Him and Ladybug, snowed in together, until one of the other heroes defeated the akuma and dug them out. It was Blanc’s worst nightmare made a reality, while on the other hand it was Noir’s dream come true.

Chat felt all sorts of conflicted.

Ladybug on the other hand was weighing her options. There were at least five other heroes, and Carapace was more than capable of bestowing a new miraculous if the situation called for it, being the new Guardian of the Miracle box. Statistically someone had to be able to fight this akuma.

She gave her lucky charm a shot, but only managed to conjure up a blanket. It seemed to be a sign that even their miraculous thought they should just wait this one out.

“This is your fault,” Chat snarled, curling his lip at her.

“Excuse me!?” Ladybug retaliated, planting a hand on her hip. “I didn’t cause that akuma!”

“You almost got yourself trapped under that avalanche. If I didn’t have to save you we wouldn’t even be stuck in here now!”

“You never had to save me! That was a decision you made all your own, Chat.”

He opened his mouth to object, but shut it again, pressing his lips in a tight line.

Their argument interrupted when her miraculous beeped its warning. 

To her absolute surprise, Chat Blanc offered her privacy while she slipped away to the seclusion of a closet to feed her Kwami and recharge her powers. He muttered something about having no interest in her miraculous, and that he wasn’t like other akumas. Despite his earlier unfounded accusations Marinette couldn’t help but feel a sting of fondness for his more gentlemanly side.

It was Noir. Chat Noir would never take her miraculous. Just like it was probably Noir that tackled her, to protect her from the avalanche. Before he’d turned white she’d trusted him implicitly. It seemed that trust was not misplaced, because even as an akuma he was trying to protect her.

“What did you see when you conjured the Lucky Charm?” asked Tikki between nibbles of a macaron.

“The uhhh… the magic highlighted… Chat.” Marientte played with one of her pigtails, and tried to will the blush out of her cheeks.

“Nothing else?” the kwami pressed, “What part of Chat was highlighted?”

“All p-parts of Chat,” she stuttered out, “and nothing else… just Chat. I didn’t tell him that though,” she quickly amended. “He thinks the Lucky Charm didn’t work.”

“Seems to me the Lucky Charm wants you to stay warm… together?” Tikki winked and took another mouthful of cookie.

“Oh god… I can’t be trapped in here with him!” Marinette hissed in protest. “He kissed me last week!”

“Well technically he kissed Marinette, and you’re trapped with him as Ladybug. Besides he’s been trying to pretend like it never happened anyway. Or at the very least that it didn’t mean anything. As long as you suit up before he smells you, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

Tikki had a point. Luckily the Miraculous’s magic rendered Ladybug’s scent unrecognizable. Unique only to the hero when transformed, and masking all her civilian smells.

“And didn’t you say you liked that kiss?” added the Kwami with a sly smile. “Seems to me like this would be the perfect opportunity for it to happen again. Chat stills likes Ladybug after all~”

“Tikki no! Spots on!”

Ladybug found Chat Blanc sulking near his collapsed tunnel, flexing his claws like he was contemplating a cataclysm.

“Don’t you dare, you could bring this whole house down on us, or worse.”

Chat flicked an ear in her direction and snorted. But he retracted his hand anyway, folding it over his knees. The clumps of snow on his tail had melted off now, and when he whipped said tail indignantly it made a soggy slapping noise against the wood floor.

Ladybug found herself getting lost in thought, watching the way his suit molded over his shoulders like a second skin. She noted the contours of his shoulder blades, and the muscles in the back of his neck, the way they subtly flexed every time he shifted, made even more apparent by the sheen of water coating the suit material.

“I’ve sent a message to all the other heroes, letting them know of our predicament,” she informed him, peeling her eyes from his back and attempting to find some other place to stick her gaze. “So long as I can keep my transformation up, they’ll be able to track our location.”

He flicked his tail again as some sort of acknowledgement, and it made the sad wet-mop noise once more.

“Did you want to help me find some towels so we can dry off?” The suggestion was more for his benefit than hers, as her detransformation and retransformation had resulted in a new dry Ladybug suit.

“No.”

Despite the sketchy electricity that continued to hold for now, the temperature in the building continued to plunge. Chat was sopping wet, and if she watched close enough she could see him shiver. In spite of his declination, she had a feeling he was going to want those towels sooner or later.

He’s being stubborn because he doesn’t want to be trapped with me, she reminded herself. The one person who could potentially steal all his akumas away and purify him.

“Fine, I’ll get them myself.”

He didn’t so much as react when she stalked away.

She wasn’t sure whose house this was, but it was fortunate that no one was home. Her Miraculous cure would put things back to normal before anyone realized Ladybug and Chat Blanc had raided their home.

And curled up in their bed.

That was another conundrum. There were two bedrooms in this house, but only one had a bed. She supposed someone could take the couch—should it come to that—but that would be in the same room that the avalanche had chased them in. And the floor in there was looking to be a bit flooded at the moment.

The other bedroom had been an office of sorts, and Chat had collapsed his tunnel in there.

Really the only rooms that weren’t a mess were the kitchen, laundry room, and main bedroom.

She briefly contemplated making Chat sleep on the dryer like the cat he was.

Ladybug made quick work changing the sheets on the bed with fresh linens, collecting clean comforters, and raiding the towels. She was on her way back with a stack of towels when she peeked in on Chat.

The office-like room was vacant, he wasn’t where she’d left him. But rather she found him curled up on the bed in the bedroom. Drooping ears, curled back in contempt, with eyes closed, and soggy tail wrapped around his soggy leather clad body.

“Get off that bed!”

“No.” Chat nestled deeper into the nest of blankets he had made.

“You’re getting the bed all wet!”

“Guess it’s all mine then.” Like a spiteful man child, Chat Blanc proceeded to rub his hair all over the blankets.

*Crack*

Ladybug stalked to the end of the bed, and snapped the towel tight between her fists. It was enough to make the akuma still, eyes narrowing. She noted the way his tail arced just slightly and the fur bristled.

“If you don’t get out of that bed and dry off, I will do it for you.”

“Such big talk from the weaker Miraculous holder,” he sneered up at her. “But, you’re welcome to try, Bug.” The inflection he put in that nickname dripped with challenge.

Don’t play this game with me, Blanc.

Ladybug lunged for him, but Chat was prepared and met her in a grapple, sending the two tumbling back, rolling around atop the blankets. He made a snatch for the towel, and she twisted it from his reach, taking swipes to mop the moisture from his suit and hair.

Amidst the power struggle, she purposefully knocked her yo-yo loose, and let it fall from her hip to the mattress, the twine anchored to her left hand. Chat didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he wasn’t concerned with her yo-yo. This gave her the chance to kick it beneath him, before using her other foot to kick it once more, looping it around one of his legs.

For next five minutes they continued to wrestle, and it was clear Chat had the advantage. His superior strength never giving her an inch, all the while she began to fatigue, her own muscles trembling to match him and keep from getting pinned, or thrown off. It was her own flexibility that saved her, managing to slip his holds and wiggle out of his grasp, keeping her yo-yo moving with precise kicks, taps, and flicks. Even taking note that he was being incredibly careful with his claws.

She wasn’t oblivious. All it would have taken were those cruel fish hooks to dig in, and he would have had her. His hellish claws able to pierce her suit, and cause all kinds of damage to her otherwise impenetrable Ladybug exoskeleton. And yet, through their entire brawl, he kept those claws retracted, relying solely on his own strength and agility to keep her at bay.

This was play. Despite his insistence that Ladybug was his enemy and his continued frosty attitude towards her, right here and now, she recognized that he was having fun. Their entire physical engagement nothing more than a game to him.

And something about that realization sparked hope, and the cozy embers of warmth in her chest. Every restrained swipe and every half hearted hold, only stoking her endearment, and although she fought with everything she had, exhausting herself to keep up with him, it felt more cathartic than perilous.

One of her trembling arms gave out, and Ladybug collapsed to her side, losing a grapple with the white cat.

Chat twisted and pounced, pushing her into the bed, face first, finally managing to pin her to the mattress. Futilely Ladybug slammed her foot into the mattress, seemingly one last attempt squirm free, but Chat kept firm his hold, failing to notice that the impact of her foot bounced her yo-yo one last time, where it landed just inches from her hand.

His palm applied pressure on her shoulder, making her bones creak, and he leaned down to growl next to her ear.

“I win.”

Yeah, you go ahead and relish that victory, Kitty.

She responded by tugging on her yo-yo sharply, causing the weapon to retract its twine. The string suddenly drawing tight, as all the looping and weaving she’d done during their scuffle came to a head.

“Whaaaaaaahhh!” Chat made an inhuman screech as twine tightened around him and he came down, crashing into her back, writhing like an animal. The struggling causing her yo-yo to pull tighter.

She released a breathe of triumph and rolled over to face her prey.

“I win,” she jeered back, a devilish smirk etching her face. Snatching up the towel, Ladybug shoved it into his stricken face, mopping his wet hair while she relished his immobile state.

Chat had no words, just made angry huffing sounds through his nose.

Slowly and methodically, Ladybug ran the towel over him. Though most of the water had been rubbed off onto the bed, she wanted to relish this and take her time drying him off. One floofy ear, then the next. She paused when her hands brushed his earrings. Maybe he noticed her open admiration, the way she ran her thumb over the simple gold hoops.

When she snuck a glance at his face, his gaze was turned pointedly away, frowning so hard his fangs dug into his bottom lip.

This was a familiar scene. Outside the mask, Chat often treated Marinette with this sort of indifference. Never wanting to make eye contact even whilst he pushed his head into her lap, demanding to be petted.

The temptation to stroke his ears was too much, and Ladybug chanced it.

But Chat Blanc must’ve had a lock down on his vulnerable side, because the only noise she got out of him was an annoyed growl. A stark contrast to the ease of which he would purr under Marinette’s fingers.

You would have enjoyed this if I wasn’t in the mask.

She cast a look at the trussed up and quite helpless cat, and proceeded to run the towel over him. Starting with his shoulders and working her way down his chest, then over his stomach, stopping just above his belts.

Chat made another huff, testing the binding, before letting his muscles go lax again.

“Roll, over so I can get your back and tail.”

A feral hiss spilled from his throat, and Chat barred his fangs at her.

“Don’t be a pill. I wouldn’t have had to tie you up, had you simply let me dry you off to begin with.”

Too petulant to use his words, he opted to snap at her when she attempted to touch him again. Teeth narrowing missing her wrist. Rather than be intimidated, she sharply yanked on his shoulder, forcing him onto his belly.

And that’s when she discovered the source of his foul temper.

“Oh, shit.”

Somehow, amid all their wrestling and her careful weaving of the yo-yo twine, she’d managed to catch his tail in it all. But Instead of pinned securely against his leg, it was caught between several loops, and kinked at an odd angle; no doubt incredibly painful for him.

“I am so sorry.”

Ladybug reached to free his abused tail, but the moment she touched the fur he loosed a viscous snarl and fought the bindings. I was enough to make her withdrawal.

“Do you want me to help you or not?” she snapped, pressing her hands against her thighs and leveling him with a hard look.

“You did this to me,” he spat, still barring teeth.

“You didn’t leave me with much choice,” she countered, and the lights in the apartment flickered as if responding to her ire. “And I seem to recall you welcoming me to try. That’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

Chat looked like he was about to respond when the lights flickered again, then went out completely, plunging the room into darkness.

Oh sweet mother of mercy… Not only was she trapped with Chat, but now she couldn’t see anything.

Not that Chat will be overly affected by it, she lamented to herself. Kitty night vision and all that noise.

The excessive snow had finally managed to knock out the power in their building, and no doubt the rest of the surrounding neighborhood. Which meant no heat, and no lights. And the absence of the latter was going to make untying Chat a real chore.

“So about that tail…” Ladybug reached a hand out to his side, and placed it on his ribs.

“You know,” he rasped, sounding much less combative than before, “staying tied up until the turtle and foxy dig us out doesn’t sound so bad.”

“—I think I can get it free.” Feeling confident she knew where to touch, she moved her hands farther down, reaching out for where she thought the start of his tail might be.

“I’d rather you noAaaaa—,” Chat broke off in a strangled noise.

“That's—” Ladybug stilled her hand, and had to will herself not to squeeze. “Oh. That’s uh, nice—I mean—did I hurt you?”

“This is harassment.”

She bit down on her lip to keep from snickering. Reminding herself to focus, she slid her hand over the one cheek until she found the top of his tail. “You can sue me later,” she replied, surprised at the amount of control she had over her voice.

“I will,” he groused, “I can file sexual assault. You’ll be receiving a strongly worded letter from my—aiiiiittt!” Chat suddenly bucked beneath her hands, and she felt all his muscles go tight, even the ones in his glutes. “You do NOT need to put your fingers there!”

“Would you calm down?” she rebuked. “I’m not trying to finger you, I needed to get my hand under your tail.”

“You need to get your hands OFF my tail.”

Ladybug heaved a sigh through her nose and ignored him, following the direction of the fur until she came across the first loop of twine. Taking a moment to feel it out, she attempted to pull his tail through it.

“Stop! P-please stop!”

Immediately her hands stilled.

“Did I hurt you?”

Chat let out a shuddering breath, “…yes.”

She sucked in her own breath, and tried to calm her nerves. “Ok. Let me find my yo-yo. It’ll probably be safer if I untangle all of you, than trying to manipulate your tail from the twine.

There was a moment of two of silence as she patted around the mattress for the mechanism of the yo-yo, her hands bumping into him on occasion.

When Chat Blanc finally did speak again it was to ask, “I take it this means you’re going to be feeling up the rest of me.”

Her hands located the yo-yo next to his chest, and followed the twine along his defined shoulder blades before it disappeared below his rib cage.

“Why, Chat,” she teased, “before you were akumatized you would have loved that.”

His response was a snort that she could have sworn sounded amused, before arching his body so she could reach below his chest. “Just, tell me how I need to move, my La—uh… Bug.”

~0000~

This part one of a two part uh…. drabble? Oneshot? This got a lot longer than I expected. There’s another part coming. 

Part of my Floofy-eared Chat Blanc AU. 

If you guys like what I do and want to help support me, consider buying me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/z8z299sh

#floofy eared chat blanc #miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #akumatized chat noir #LadyNoir #LadyBlanc #Marichat #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ask answers #saijspellhart answers #saijspellhart writes #ask drabbles #fanfiction #fanfic #chat blanc

[biillyhargroves]

"Don’t you dare touch him!” + harringrove ???

take it out on me(fic requests open)

tw: depictions of child abuse & violence against minors. mildly graphic.disclaimer: this is one of the most intense fics I’ve written and I’m sorry.

Neil Hargrove is not supposed to be home.

Steve knows this. It is a Thursday night, and the Hargrove patriarch can only ever be found at Shanahan’s Pub on Thursday nights. He tucks in after punching the clock and remains there well past happy hour, well past last call. On some Thursday nights, Mr. Hargrove does not find his way home at all. He has been known, occasionally, to stay the night in the small gravel lot outside the bar and, more than once, been discovered there by Chief Hopper or one of the local patrolmen in the early hours of a Friday morning and been sent on his way. Susan Hargrove remains unfettered by her husband’s Thursday night disappearances. She enjoys the quiet, it seems. Sometimes, she works late; her husband cannot complain when he is not home to expect dinner, and she often orders pizza or an overwhelming amount of Chinese food to the house, or gives a couple of fives to her children, so that they do not go hungry in her absence. Steve has ridden shotgun on enough burger runs, has broken enough fortune cookies on enough Thursday nights to know that Neil Hargrove is never, ever home.

The house is always warm. Sometimes, El comes over, or Lucas sneaks in through Max’s window (a habit, he murmurs, when Billy reminds him that the front door is right there, shithead and that he doesn’t always have to break in like some criminal - “Look who’s talking,” Steve has teased, reminded of all the times that Billy has squeezed himself through second-story windows). The night is always quiet, Steve might even call them peaceful, when Neil Hargrove is not home.

And tonight, of course, is a Thursday night. Neil Hargrove is not supposed to be home, so it strikes Steve as rather odd that his battered old Ford is sitting in the driveway. 

Steve wonders if perhaps the truck had broken down this morning. Maybe, after cursing at the damned piece of junk, Neil Hargrove had taken his wife’s car to work. Steve circles around the block once, twice, tries to see inside the yellow windows of the Hargrove house. He can see no shadows inside; no shapes besides the back of the couch, the living room lamp. Steve parks a few streets over, just to be safe. 

Also to be safe, Steve creeps around the backyard. There is no light on in Billy’s bedroom, but there is in Max’s. Steve sees something- someone -dart inside the dimly lit room. He hears a door slam. Max jumps, almost screams, when Steve taps on her window. He apologizes her she even opens it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sor-”

“Shh!” Max hisses. Steve can hear yelling deeper inside the house. There are two voices, both of them male, one of them Billy’s. Steve cannot make out what he is saying but he doesn’t like the pitch of it, the tone of it, the way the words sound raw at their edges. “What are you doing here?” Max whispers. 

“I-” Steve starts, and he lowers his voice when she glares at him- not in angry way, Steve notices. She looks scared. “It’s Thursday,” he says plainly. 

Max only considers this for a fraction of a second before she says, “You need to go.”

Behind her closed door, there is a loud bang! and a subsequent thud! that makes them both jump. The walls shake. There is another shout- something between a grunt and a yelp -followed by a loud, angry bellowing sound. “You need to go,” Max says again, and her voice shakes like the walls. She starts to push Steve outside, but he grips the windowsill. She starts to close the pane but he grabs onto her wrist. 

“Wait,” he says, and when she keeps trying to shove him away he says, “No, no, no. Hey, come on. What the hell is going on?”

“Steve, just go,” Max says desperately.

“No,” Steve says firmly. “No, I’m not just gonna walk away.”

“Steve,” Max says. 

“No,” Steve repeats. “How bad is it?” he asks. “It sounds bad.”

“Steve, you have to go,” Max begs. But Steve has made up his mind. He pushes away from the window and instead of closing it like she’d wanted to, like she’d so desperately been trying to, Max leans her head outside. “Steve!” she calls, still trying to stay quiet. He is crossing the lawn, rounding the corner. “You’ll make it worse!” she says, but she doesn’t think he can hear her. Her step-father, though, could. He calls her name.

“Maxine!” he shouts. “What the fuck is going on in there?”

Without thinking, Max scrambles out the window. She is running around the house, following Steve’s path, by the time Neil Hargrove gets her bedroom door open. She hears him scream her name again and her heart jumps up into her throat. She thinks she might throw it right up, that all of her insides might come spilling out, and she swallows them all back down when she catches up with Steve. 

“Steve, stop it,” Max pleads. He swings around and grabs her shoulders and she freezes. Steve hates the fear in her eyes, hates that he’s the one causing it- right now, at least, in this moment.

“Go to the Byers’,” he tells her. 

“Steve,” Max says. Her voice is small, so very childlike, and for a moment Steve realizes that he has forgotten how young she actually is. She looks younger still with her eyes that wide, with tears in them, with her bottom lip quivering. 

“Go to the Byers and call Hopper,” Steve says. “Make sure it’s him. Can you do that?”

“I-” Max starts, “Steve-” And then, in an instant, her face hardens. “Okay,” she says. 

“Is your mom home?” Steve asks.

“She’s…” she starts. “No. No, she’s out of town.”

“Good,” Steve says. “Go.”

“You really should’ve gone home,” Max says.

Steve says nothing to this. Instead, he tells her, “Go. Mrs. Byers will help.” When Steve lets go of Max, she lingers for a moment. She stares at Steve with a look he can’t quite place. It’s not disappointment, but perhaps uncertainty. Disbelief, maybe. And, Steve thinks, even the tiniest spark of hope. She looks to the house and, when they hear Neil Hargrove shout again, she takes off down the street.

Steve opens the front door. He sees a shadow slip against the hallway wall, big and tall and monstrous. He hears Neil Hargrove growl, “Where’d she go?” he is demanding. “Is she covering for you, you God damned piece of shit? Where the fuck did she go?”

“Billy?” Steve calls, and this makes the yelling stop. 

There is a momentary silence, so quick it seems like an illusion. Steve is frozen in the open doorway. His heart is hammering; he can hear it in his ears, can feel his own pulse throb through every vein. He can taste bile at the back of his throat and prays to whatever deity might deign to listen that it stays put. The shadow grows against the wall again, and it is followed by the thumping footsteps. Steve sees Neil Hargrove’s boots first, scuffed up and dirty, and then he sees his fists with their red knuckles. His face looks less like a man and more like a monster, like something out of the horror movies Max always made them watch. His eyes are hard and his glare feels like daggers drilling right through Steve’s head. He snarls, and Steve half-expects some animal growl to come out of him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Neil demands. 

“Where’s Billy?” Steve counters. He looks behind Neil, but he cannot see anything in the dark hallway. Steve takes a step into the foyer. “Billy?” he calls again. “Billy?!” He doesn’t realize how far he’s moved into the house until Neil Hargrove is butting the stubby tips of his fingers against Steve’s chest. Steve stalls. He stops searching for Billy and looks at those knife-edge eyes. 

“Get out of here, son,” Neil Hargrove says, voice low and downright sinister. Each syllable sends its own chill snaking down Steve’s spine. Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out- not a word, not a squeak, not a scream. “Go on,” Neil Hargrove tells him. 

But Steve doesn’t go. 

Neil Hargrove hangs his head. A breathes a heavy sigh and then, turning slightly toward the hallway, he shouts, “Billy! You want to come out here and tell me who this asshole is?” There is no answer. Steve tries to listen, tries to catch even a small rasp of Billy’s breathing, but his ears are ringing and he can’t hear anything else. Neil looks to him again, a kind of sideways glance, and Steve feels another tremor shudder through him. “I’ll call the cops if you don’t get out,” Neil warns, but instead of finding a phone he shouts over his shoulder, “Billy! You get your ass out here!” 

This time, there is movement; a small shuffling, a shifting of shadows. Steve watches Billy emerge from them. He presses one hand against the wall for support and his other warm is wrapped protectively around his middle. One eye is puffy and swollen, and Steve thinks he’s watching it swell right shut. Billy’s lip is bleeding - or perhaps it’s coming from his mouth, because his teeth look bloody when he opens his mouth. 

“Don’t,” he says. 

“Don’t what?” Neil asks, almost teasing. Billy glares at him. “You don’t look at me like that. I didn’t tell this kid to break into my house, now did I? He did that of his own volition.” 

Billy looks down. Steve has never seen him so sheepish; so frightened. He looks to the door, still open to the black night outside. He thinks about Max. Would she be at the Byers’ yet? How fast could she run? 

“Billy,” Neil Hargrove says in a sickly sing-song voice that makes Steve’s blood curdle. Steve snaps his head back toward Billy, who is just-barely holding himself up, his hair hanging over his face as he looks to his father. Neil’s voice is low and dangerous when he says, “You want to tell me who this is?”

“Some asshole,” Billy bites out. 

“Some asshole,” Neil repeats. “Now, that might be the first right thing you’ve said all night.” He turns his attention to Steve. He tilts his head, considers him, and then he asks, “Now what are you doing barging into my house and calling after my son?” he asks. “Were you creeping around here?” he asks. “Looking for my boy?” he demands. “Were you in my daughter’s window, too?” he presses. Each question is punctuated with a shove; it is not harsh, just a jab of Neil’s fingers against Steve’s chest, and he advances with each strike. Steve steps backward, backward, backward until his heel almost slips off the lip between the door and the front stoop. Steve grabs the door jam to stop himself from falling, breaking eye contact only briefly to glance outside. When he looks back, when he finds Billy over Neil’s shoulder, Billy’s is glaring at him. Why are you here? his eyes say. Why is your stupid ass even here?

“It’s Thursday,” Steve murmurs, even though Billy had not asked. 

“What was that?” Neil asks. Steve looks at him. He tastes the bile again; he doesn’t think he can hold it down. “It’s Thursday?” Neil asks. “Is this some kind of routine for you?” This time, when he shoves Steve, it is harsh. Steve loses his balances. He is thrust outside, tumbling ass over teakettle down the front steps and onto the walkway. His teeth catch his lip when he tries to curl his head away from the cement and now he tastes blood, too. 

“Don’t!” he hears Billy yell, though he sounds about a million miles away. Neil Hargrove is looming over Steve, a great big shadow blocking out the moon and the stars and the soft yellow glow of the streetlamps. He hears footsteps, stumbling ones, and suddenly Neil is torn away. “Don’t you dare!” Billy snaps. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” 

Steve lifts himself up in time to see Billy one land one good punch before Neil throws him away- literally throws him, like a rag doll, and Billy lands with a crash that shakes the whole damn floor. Neil rounds on him; he rises, towers over his son, raises his fists.

“No!” Steve screams. He forces himself to his feet. He is shaky, and he bumps into the door on his way through it. He throws himself at Neil. He, too, is easily flung away.

“What the fuck is this?” Neil demands. He is rounding on Billy once more. Steve staggers to his feet, reaches for Neil, grabs fistfuls of the man’s black jacket. Neil twists around, his cracked knuckles scraping Steve’s cheek, his jaw, and when he can’t Steve off of him he slams Steve against the wall. Steve loses his grip. He falls to his knees. The shadow over him grabs the front of his shirt and hoists him up. “Who the fuck are you?” Neil Hargrove growls. 

“Get off of him,” Billy snarls. He is on shaky feet, too, and Steve wishes he could just stay down. This isn’t Billy’s fight anymore, Steve things. He thinks about Max, about how she’d have to have called by now. He thinks that Chief Hopper must be on his way, he has to be, it’s been long enough. He looks at Billy, wants to plead with him: just stay down. it’ll be over soon. stay down. But Billy doesn’t. He beats his fists against his father’s back, pleading, “Get away from him!” 

Again, Billy is thrown off. This time, when he lands, he doesn’t move. Steve’s heart jumps up, but he cannot move. Neil Hargrove still has him pinned to the wall. He glares, hard, at Steve. 

“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” he says slowly. “Who. The fuck. Are you?”

Steve does not answer. He can hear car tires in down the street, the distance wail of sirens. He waits. Waits, waits, waits in silence until he hears the tires screech around the corner of Cherry Lane. Red and blue light washes over the dark street outside and the moment Steve sees them, the moment the first rogue beam shines through the window, Steve smiles. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Neil Hargrove asks, and Steve laughs.

Behind them, Billy is slowly crawling to his hands and knees. He looks confused. He watches the door, watches Chief Hopper’s beige car slide up to the curb. Neil Hargrove lets go of Steve and, without that strong grip wrinkling his shirt, Steve collapses to his knees. Billy looks at him. “What did you do?” he asks. Steve does not have a chance to answer. Chief Hopper is already taking long strides up the front law, is talking about a call about a disturbance at 4819 Cherry Lane. He is already peering inside, catching sight of the boys. There are cuffs in his hands and soon they are around Neil’s wrists. 

Steve moves towards Billy, reaches for him, but Billy shrinks away. 

“That was fucking stupid,” he spits. 

“I had to do it,” Steve says. Again, he reaches for Billy, but this time Billy slaps him away.

“You shouldn’t have done anything,” Billy says, but the anger that is normally present in his voice, in his very being, isn’t there. He isn’t even looking at Steve. He is watching his father shout at the chief, is watching two uniformed officers tugging him away. Outside, the back door of Chief Hopper’s car swings open and Max emerges, Mrs. Byers following. Mrs. Byers stops at Hopper, who is saying something about waiting in the car. Max, though, practically runs into the house.

“Billy,” she says, and Billy’s eyes snap up to hers. Something close to a sob catches in her throat when she says his name again and throws her arms around his neck. She buries her head against him, mutters apologies that he does not answer. This time, when Steve reaches for Billy, Billy lets him touch his back- even lets him put an arm around his shoulders. Steve can feel Billy uncoiling beneath him. When Billy breathes out, Steve thinks the smallest cry comes out of him - disbelief and relief expelled in a single exhale. He leans forward and Steve moves to catch him, to secure between himself and Max. 

“It’s okay,” Steve says. He will not say he’s sorry. He holds Billy, feels Billy’s free hand- the arm not wrapped around Max -close around his own waist. “It’s okay,” he says as Billy begins to cry. 

#harringrove #harrigrove fic #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #welp. the deed is done. #wndasmaximoffs #answered #lex writes fics

[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 13: Is This Real?

Summary: Hannah is back and her intentions are scarier than ever before.

Warnings: angst (I cried writing it, I’m weak), swearing, no reader and Bucky in this one

Word Count: 2250

A/N: Go easy on me after you’ve read it, that’s all I have to say (haha *hides behind a couch, peeking nervously*). Anyway, wanna know what you all though about it, feedback is everything. And I would like to know what you guys hope for- happy ending or not? Love you all!!

Series Mastelist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Bucky’s mind was all over the place. There were many things he didn’t understand just yet. Firstly, how did Hannah get on the aircraft, or where were the rest of the agents that were supposed to be there with him. He just hoped she didn’t hurt them to get to him. He felt like he had enough of lives on his shirt and didn’t need to feel any more guilty, especially for somebody he knew and worked for. His mind also wandered towards you. If you were safe if Hannah didn’t manage to get to you first.

His heart skipped a beat just thinking about Hannah hurting you again, and this time maybe physically. He shook his head and tried to calm his anxious mind, knowing that you were in the safest place you could- with the rest of the team in almost a fortress. ¨

Hannah was just standing there, watching him intently. He didn’t understand what she was doing there. Sure, he was the reason she had to leave the compound and SHIELD, but she was transferred to the CIA, which was like the second-best option. And the very best option for her after what she’s done. Bucky thought she should be glad that Tony didn’t make sure nobody would ever employ her. So Bucky really dint get why she was now in the quinjet, obviously looking for trouble.

Bucky looked past her, trying to see if anyone of his team was there and if they were ok. What he didn’t see coming, was the three agents suddenly coming into the light and standing behind Hannah, their arms crossed over their chests, sinister looks on their faces. Bucky wasn’t scared of them, far from it, he just didn’t understand what the hell was going on.

He looked at all of them quizzically, waiting for someone to speak up and tell him what the actual fuck.

“Are you confused, sweet little Bucky?” Hannah asked sweetly and took a step forward, to which Bucky reacted by also taking a step forward. He would rather die than show her any weakness. Bucky started to realise that she was a sick bitch and that she is truly insane.

“What is going on?” Bucky all but growled at her, to which she only smiled again. He was getting sick of her, and they were standing there for less than a minute.

“Can’t an old friend come and say hi?” She smirked and took another step towards him, standing almost too close for comfort. Bucky inwardly shuddered at her closeness, cursing himself for ever letting her close, and for kissing her. He would vomit if he could.

“Cut the crap, Hannah. How about I open the door and you all willingly get out of this thing, before I send you flying.”

She chuckled at his reaction, cocking her head and smirking. “Oh, baby, when I’m done with you, you’ll be kissing my feet!” She hissed the last part and lurched at him. At the same time, the three agents of SHIELD, or whatever they were now anyway, ran towards him as well.

Bucky did quick math in his mind, the next few minutes eloping in front of his eyes like a movie. He knew how it would go down. While Hannah would keep him occupied in the front, the three guys would try to corner him and somehow catch his hands to stop him from resisting. But Bucky knew that no matter how strong a tape they would use, he would be able to rip it and continue to fight for his life.

He smirked as well, letting Hannah get one good punch, making her feel as if she had the upper hand. As he predicted, two of the guys tried to go around him to stand behind, but Bucky wouldn’t let them. While he kicked Hannah with all he had (girl or no girl, she was an enemy, and he didn’t give a fuck about her gender), and stood so that he was facing the two guys.

Punches were flying, Bucky could feel bones shattering under his blows, making the guys groan in pain, but the adrenalin didn’t let them stop. He saw Hannah lurching back at him, hitting him in the ribs, and trying to have a go at his face. But Bucky could see right through her, and he blocked her punches with his metal hand while giving a few good measured hits to her stomach.

The three of them were groaning, and Bucky suddenly realised that there used to be four. He quickly turned around and saw Micheal just standing there, watching. When he saw that Bucky turned his attention to him, he smirked and as if playfully made a sign to Bucky to come and get him.

Because Bucky was in the mode of fight, he didn’t hesitate and made a run towards him. Micheal didn’t budge. Bucky didn’t care, he wanted to have this over with, and so he raised his left hand to punch him, but at the same time, Michael raised his own hand, clenching something in it.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, the thing in the agent’s hand flashed and Bucky could suddenly feel his left metal hand twitching and growing numb to the point Bucky had no control over it.

It suddenly felt as if it weighed 100 pounds, and it fell to his side. Bucky looked at it shocked and tried to fight Michael with just one hand, but suddenly, the other three behind him came to life and jumped at him, bringing Bucky down with them.

He groaned and tried to fight them, but each of them grabbed one of his own limbs, probably knowing that his metal arm had quite some time before it came back to him. While the three men were kneeling on Bucky body, Hannah took his head into her hands to keep him in place and set on his chest.

“It’s a special little thing, isn’t it? One of the scientists we work for made this specifically for you, you should be honoured, baby!” She was now mocking him, he was sure of that. She didn’t let him even form a sentence, as she went on. “It destabilised the electric board in your arm and made it completely unworkable. Isn’t it great? You’re suddenly a very normal guy.”

Bucky scoffed, and despite the guy sitting on his right arm, he shook him off and punched Hannah square into her jaw. It took her off balance for a little bit, but shook the pain away, hissing at the guy holding Bucky to fucking do his job.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he started to feel really uneasy. They obviously came prepared, totally surpassing his expectations of the battle (he really didn’t think he’d be laying on his back with four people on top of him).

“You’re making me work for my money, for real, Bucky. When I got you as my mission, I thought it’d be walk in a park, considering my looks and charm, but you’re a tough cookie.” Bucky rolled his eyes at her remark with beauty and charm, knowing as much as she did that she obviously dint have any of it when she had to lie her ass off in front of him for him to open at least a little to her.

She saw what he did and smacked him hard across his face. “This is no time to be funny, asshole. I was so fucking happy when you finally started spending a little more time with me because I lied to you about that slut.” Bucky’s whole body convulsed, fighting against her words. He didn’t want her to even think about you.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” He hissed at her.

She just smirked and made a long awww sound. “You’ve actually fallen for her, haven’t you? That’s so sweet, disgusting and sad, but sweet, sure. I thought I’d be done with you before you realised what was happening, but your little bitch just has to be everywhere, doesn’t she? I really thought I lost the chance to get you on our side, but, fortunately, I got one more chance. So, here we are. I hope you’re ready.” She smiled and fished for something in her back pocket.

—-

You were ecstatic. You knew Bucky was coming back in a few hours, and just the image of him there with you made your heart grow a little warmer. You didn’t even need to do anything with him (not that you didn’t want to and that it wasn’t one of the main things you’ve been thinking about while he was fighting the evil), but you would do with him just laying next to you. You missed the warmth his body emitted, especially when he was asleep. He was like your own personal furnace, and the nights without him were cold and lonely.

Though you knew you should be getting used to it, if your relationship should grow, because, after all, he was a soldier and there were still wars, he needed to be a part of. And he’d be gone for more than few days at a time, and just the image made your heart clench involuntarily.

While Bucky was gone, you tried to get as much work done as you could, knowing that when he came back, and if he came in the same mood he was leaving, you would want a few free days that the two of you could spend together.

When you asked Tony if it was ok, you expected some kind of fight, or at least a lot of muttering and him just being a child in general. But when you raised the question, Tony just nodded understandingly and told you that he understood and that you were a part of the team and didn’t need to ask for free days. You were glad that you didn’t need to fight him, and even happier he saw you as part of them. Not that you could fight, or anything like that, but it was nice to be seen and appreciated.

It was only two hours until you could hold Bucky again, and you thought about what to wear to make a pleasant surprise for him. You took a long bath, scented candles all around the bathtub, relaxing you even more thoroughly. You took your time putting on some make-up to look at least presentable, and also put on your newest lingerie, knowing Bucky would appreciate them once things started to be a little more heated up. Just the image made a shiver run down your spine. You couldn’t wait.

—-

Bucky’s eyes almost fell from their sockets the second he realised what Hannah, or whoever was her boss, planned for him. He was rolling on the ground, trying to shake those people off of him, or at least causing enough fuzz that he wouldn’t hear the damn words. But it was to no avail. Hannah laid the paper with the ten words on top of his chest and continued to hold his head. She smirked at him, the devil peaking from behind her irises.

(A/N: I looked up the translated version of those words because I don’t know a word in Russian and wouldn’t want to screw it up, imagine them in Russian, or don’t... I don’t know)

Longing

Bucky trashed harder, trying to compose himself and to survive this hell she was putting him through.

Rusted

Furnace

Bucky was screaming now, for his ears to hear anything else than those damn words. He almost forgot what it felt like when his own consciousness was slipping away, being replaced by something so cold, menacing. He wanted to run away, to you, at best, and just let you play with his hair and tell him that he’d be ok, just like you did when he had the nightmare. But fate had obviously different plans.

Daybreak

Seventeen

Benign

The Winter Soldier was now licking into his brain, the robot mode almost on. He tried to fight it as much as he could, if for nothing else, then at least for you. Because he was very much aware, he wouldn’t know you, and if you saw him like that, you’d never want him close to you. He’d lose in an instant, and Bucky was sure he couldn’t live without you.

Nine

He saw your face in front of him, smiling up at him, looking at him with the adoration in your eyes that was there lately. He smiled, absent-mindedly, remembering how your skin felt under his fingertips, how your laugh warmed him up inside. He prayed to whoever was listening to stop this, that he’s been through enough and that he doesn’t have it in him to go through all of that again. Knowing that there is something better waiting for him, for the first time in his life.

Homecoming

One

He could feel the Winter Soldier taking over, but not before Bucky gave your image one last goodbye, knowing that it’s probably the last time he ever saw you. He fell in love with you, and he didn’t even have the time to tell you.

Freight Car

With the last word being said, Bucky’s body went rigid and stopped resisting. Hannah smirked and looked at the person beneath her. The dead was done, and she couldn’t wait for what was to come.

/ Next Chapter >

After All:

@iheartsebastianstan​ @readermia​ @kolakube9​ @ibookishqueen​ @thewintersoldierswifu @emogril​ @the-melancholyfeels​ @pinkleopardss​ @supervengerslock​ @the-soulofdevil​ @jessyballet​  @bxrnsfeyson​ @38leticia @sparkling-gayyyy​ @deansbbysblog​ @lustgardn​ @wantingtobekorra​ @backflip-into-a-garbage-can​ @thefifthmaraud3r​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @sebbbystaaan​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfiction #soldier mode #the white wolf #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #multiple chapters #after all #angst #cliffhanger #tears

[stellarlex]

The Fog is Lifting (3/?) - Miraculous Ladybug

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

Mylene and the other girls sat on the couch as they waited for Marinette to arrive. She'd initially been confused since she'd had no idea that the rest of them were at Alya's apartment, but decided that Alya's insistence that they talk and the seriousness of her voice was more important. It was close to ten at night by the time Alya called her, so they'd thought that Marinette might not get permission to come over. The Dupain-Chengs however, in their unending kindness, had given Marinette the O.K. to come over.

So they waited, and as they did, Mylene looked around at her friends' faces as they, from the looks of things, thought over every interaction, every claim, every expression, every action...Everything that Lila Rossi has ever done since she first started attending their school.

She watched as Rose pulled out her phone and began texting, her normally optimistic and smiling face troubled as she stared at the screen. Juleka, always at her side, had an arm wrapped around Rose as she too stared at the screen, a silent comfort for the apprehension Mylene was sure Rose was feeling.

She observed Alya, who had brought her laptop into the living room and was going over some the interviews of Lila that she uploaded to the Ladybug. She had her headphones plugged in, mercifully sparing the others from hearing Lila's claims as she wrote furiously in a notebook next to her. Mylene was worried that Alya might attract an akuma since the expression she had on her face was frightening.

Alix didn't give much away in terms of how she was feeling, but Mylene has known Alix a long time and knew what to look for. The slight downturn of her lips, the stiffness of her shoulders, the tautness of her jaw. But besides the anger she could see there, there was confusion. Mylene didn't think that was unusual, considering that Alix was the last one to even consider that Lila was lying to them. And based on what she was seeing, she could see that Alix was on the fence.

Not that that was a bad thing, Mylene thought. The reality was, she knew that she wouldn't be able to totally convince everyone. And that's good. It wasn't her place to totally convince them. Even she didn't have all of the answers or evidence needed to do that. But she had enough to plant the seeds of doubt, and that's what made her discovery earlier so important.

She was an outside party, one who had been on the "opposing side" in a sense. She had been like them, believed everything Lila said without question and dismissive of Marinette's claims. It was hard to believe someone they thought was already guilty when she had no one to back her up. However, Mylene thought. She herself didn't have any motives to suddenly switch sides, and even though it took a bit, she was able to convince them that things weren't quite as kosher as Lila had initially made them believe.

And what luck, Mylene thought. As it turns out, Lila hadn't just lied at school. She'd also been lying to Alya and Nino's younger siblings. And that's what made Lila so sinister, Mylene thought. She didn't stop at trying to manipulate her classmates and people at school, she also tried manipulating small children, who were impressionable and didn't have enough sense to investigate what she said. She didn't even need to, but she did it anyway. In the end, however, it seems that that particular decision might just have backfired on Lila, and given Mylene the extra witnesses she needed to convince them even more about Lila's dishonesty.

Despite the sinister lengths Lila had gone to to get small children on her side, knowing that they didn't have sense to investigate what she said, it also gave Mylene's side of the story more evidence. Because with the same sense they didn't have to investigate Lila's claims, they also didn't have the sense to keep their mouths shut about it.

After all, Mylene thought, children don't know the meaning of discretion. And if they try to keep secrets, they are so obvious about it that people immediately know they are hiding something. Add in the fact that there were not one, not two, but three children who heard Lila's lies, it would be hard to convince people that what they had to say wasn't true or that their claims had no merit.

It's funny, Mylene thought, that evidence crucial to Lila's comeuppance for lying would come from the mouths of babes. It's also funny because it proves that Lila doesn't have any siblings, otherwise she would have learned that younger children are relentless tattletales, intentional or otherwise.

And Lila definitely got tattled on.

But she knew even that wouldn't be enough. They needed the kind of convincing that only someone who had suffered the consequences of Lila's manipulations directly could deliver. Someone who never wavered in their convictions and certainty about Lila's dishonesty.

They needed Marinette.

A few knocking sounds startled everyone from their thoughts and turned their attention to the door. Alya swiftly went to the door and opened it, revealing Marinette and her father, who was holding a large take-out bag in one hand, and a large bag stamped with their bakery logo in the other. Alya greeted them and invited them in. Marinette greeted them and went to set her overnight bag in Alya's room and change into her pajamas, while her dad sat the bag of take-out, Chinese if the mouth watering smell that was quickly filling the apartment was anything to go by, on the counter along with the bag from their bakery.

"Didn't know if you girls had eaten yet, so I brought snacks from the bakery and on the way here I ordered Chinese."

"Thanks Mr. Dupain-Cheng." Alya said, a small weary smile on her face. "To be honest, we only had those pastries Mme. Dupain-Cheng gave us earlier for dinner. My older sister Nora was supposed to cook for and watch the twins while my parents had the night shifts at work, but my parents and I made a deal that gave Nora the night off and allowed us to have a sleepover. Everything was so last minute that we didn't think of a viable dinner option. We definitely appreciate it."

The other girls came over, all voicing their thanks and Tom laughed, waving them off.

"It's no problem." He said, and began removing the various containers from the bag, the delicious smell becoming even more potent. As he did, the girls began taking out plates and began to set the table. He removed the various sauce packets at the bottom of the bag along with plastic utensils and fortune cookies, before disposing of the bag and turning back to them.

"Well girls, I'm gonna head out. But before I go, can I ask you all a question?"

The girls all turned to each other, confused, before they all turned back to him and nodded their consent.

"How come you're only inviting Marinette to the sleepover now, and not earlier?"

Nearly all of the girls looked a bit ashamed at his question, but Mylene took this as her chance to explain as much as she could.

"There's been some...drama between Marinette and the new girl in our class, Lila Rossi. Marinette is certain that Lila hasn't been honest with us and at first we thought that it wasn't a big deal because Marinette didn't have much proof on her side. But today on our trip to see Big Ben, I saw something that proved that Marinette might be right. When I did, I organized a meeting between most of the girls in our class, Marinette and Lila excluded because I wanted to share what I had learned without any possible bias from either of them."

Tom nodded, and Mylene sighed before continuing on.

"When I set the meeting, I didn't count on an akuma attack taking us to space and then us ending up back in Paris. We had to ride the train back to London and by the time we got back to school, it had been over for a while. Marinette was so tired that Alya took her home, and by the time we had a chance to start talking, we realized that we hadn't actually planned on what place to meet up. That's why the sleepover was so last minute. After babysitting for a while we began to talk, and it was after we did that Alya decided that we needed Marinette here to clarify some of the things she'd been saying that Lila was being dishonest about."

Mylene stepped forward a bit before speaking again. "I know it seems like we were excluding Marinette to be mean, but I can promise you Mr. Dupain-Cheng, that's not at all what is happening here. Our only objective here is to get to the truth the fairest way possible, since in the past we haven't done that."

Tom nodded again, his brow furrowed in thought. "I see..."

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

All eyes turned to Marinette, who was now in her pajamas, her hair loose from her signature pigtails.

Tom smiled and shook his head. "Everything is just fine cupcake. I was just about to head out, but there's no way I'm leaving without a hug from my favorite girl."

Marinette grinned. "You're only saying that so I'll go easy on you the next time we play UMS."

"Bah! I let you win last time because I had bread in the oven." Tom said as he crossed his arms.

"You always say that when you lose."

"I'm a baker, I always have bread in the oven."

"Not after closing hours."

"Oh shush and give me a hug." Tom said as he opened his arms.

Marinette laughed before walking over and hugging her father, who returned the hug with gusto, picking Marinette off the floor as she gave a small shriek in surprise before finally putting her down and releasing her from the hug. Everyone laughed as Marinette huffed, not an ounce of anger on her face as she too began to laugh. When everyone had calmed down, Tom sighed and smiled.

"Well, I won't stay in your hair any longer. Enjoy your dinner and have a good night girls!"

Once everyone had said their goodbyes and Mr. Dupain-Cheng had departed, everyone got their hands washed and made their plates of food before getting settled at the table. By the time they got to that point, the jovial mood that Tom had brought with him had all but disappeared. At first, there was nothing but the sound of utensils hitting plates as the girls ate. But eventually the tension and seriousness of the situation became too much to ignore as Marinette set down her fork and looked at the other girls.

"So, you all wanted to talk." Marinette said as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.

Mylene looked around, and noticed how everyone tensed up, none more than Alya, whose earlier fury at her sisters being lied to began to re-emerge. Mylene knew that Alya's fury wasn't going to be helpful, and seeing the disaster about to happen, decided to be the one to break the ice.

"We wanted to talk because I discovered some disturbing things about Lila today, during and after our class trip."

Marinette's eyes widened, before settling into a serious expression that did nothing to hide her eagerness as she leaned forward in her seat. "What did you find?"

"First," Mylene said. "We want to hear your side of the story. Alya said that you tried to tell her and Nino about how you followed Lila on her first day of school. We want to know what happened, and don't spare any details."

Marinette looked a bit shocked for a moment, but the determined look came back as she took a deep breath, let it out, straightened up in her seat, and folded her hands on the table.

"Okay, when I got to school that day, the first thing I heard was Rose talking about how a girl named Lila knew Prince Ali and had flown in his private jet with him. Then I see Chloe stomping passed, complaining about why Jagged Stone wrote a song about Lila instead of her. Then Nino passed by and was talking about knowing that famous director that Nino is a fan of. When I got to Alya, I asked what was going on and that's when she showed me the interview she'd posted on her blog. When I noticed Lila with Adrien, I will admit I was jealous. However I was skeptical of all the things she had been claiming before I'd even seen her and Adrien together. Alya had walked off, talking about how high her views were because of Lila's interview, so I was alone afterward. When they went into the library I followed them. They appeared at first to be starting their homework but then Adrien pulled out a book, which ended up being the one he got pulled out of school over."

Marinette sighed, taking a small break before speaking again.

"She snatched the book away from him and began looking through it, asking him what it was. When he told her it was a book about superheroes, she said that she loved superheroes. When Lila turned the page to an illustration of an ancient Ladybug Miraculous holder, Adrien was talking about how awesome Ladybug was. Lila frowned for a second and then said that a girl doesn't need to wear a costume to be amazing. Lila said that Adrien had a soft spot for Ladybug, and then claimed to be close friends with her. When Adrien looked interested, she suggested that they could talk about it and told him to meet her at the park so she could tell him everything. I had been hiding behind a book cart and when I tried to stand up, I slipped and fell. The cart went flying into the wall, and I hid under the table so I wouldn't get caught."

Marinette looked guilty then, her head bowed as she fiddled with her fingers. "It's not my proudest moment, and even now I'm ashamed to have even done it...." Marinette lifted her head then, her eyes blazing with determination. "But while I may feel ashamed about it, I certainly don't regret it. That day changed everything."

"What do you mean that day changed everything Marinette?" Rose asked.

Marinette's determined look faltered for a moment at Rose's question, before settling into a contemplative expression. "That day showed just how far Lila was willing to go to make her stories seem credible."

"Anyway," Marinette said as she straightened back up into her chair. "After Lila suggested meeting Adrien in the park to talk about Ladybug, Adrien's fencing alarm went off and they started to put their things away. When Adrien turned around, he had been startled by Lila standing behind him and dropped his bag on the floor. The book had fallen out of it, and while Lila asked Adrien to confirm their meeting, she took her foot and moved the book behind her. Adrien hadn't even noticed that the book was missing when he picked up his bag and ran off to be in time for his fencing lesson. After he left, Lila picked up the book and mentioned a fox superhero and how it was interesting."

"I followed after her, and at one point she stopped inside of a jewelry store. She was in there for quite a while before she came out with a bag. When she got to the park she sat down on a bench and pulled whatever she bought at the jewelry store out of the bag. When she opened the box, there was a fox tail necklace."

Alya gasped, and the other girls sans Marinette looked to Alya in confusion. Mylene's interest was peaked. Alya tried to reassure them that she was just shocked, but Mylene could tell that it was more than just shock. What Marinette said had impacted Alya far more than it should have. Marinette cleared her throat, sipping a bit at the glass of water she'd had with her dinner. Mylene and the others turned their attention back to Marinette, but Mylene stored Alya's reaction into a mental folder. Whatever reason for Alya's reaction, it could prove useful to helping clear Marinette.

After Marinette finished sipping her water, she continued speaking.

"After she opened the box and tried it on, she'd only had a moment to admire it before she suddenly stood up, grabbed the book and hid it behind her back. Neither of us had seen Adrien arrive, and as he got closer, Lila decided to get rid of the evidence of her theft by throwing the book into the garbage bin that had been behind her. I managed to get closer, and when Adrien asked if she knew Ladybug for real, she said that not only did Ladybug save her life, they had become very close friends, because they have something very special in common."

Marinette frowned, gritting her teeth a bit before continuing on.

"And that's when she claimed that she was a descendant of a vixen superheroin called Volpina."

This time, all of the girls gasped before looking at each other. It was no surprise why, really. Because each of those girls knew that Volpina was an akuma who claimed to be a superhero before being defeated by Ladybug and Chat Noir.

And that the person who was Volpina was Lila.

Mylene filed it away as more evidence that Lila was a liar. They still had to verify Marinette's side of the story, but so far, it appeared that Marinette was telling them the truth.

Marinette continued on, brushing passed their shock.

"When Adrien claimed that he might have read about her in the book, and went to his bag to get the book, Lila stopped him. She started claiming that of course Volpina was in the book, and that she was one of the most important superheroes, more powerful and celebrated than Ladybug. She even said that Ladybug didn't even make the top ten. She showed Adrien the necklace, claiming that her grandmother had given it to her, and he asked if it was a miraculous."

Mylene frowned, as did the rest of the girls when they heard what Marinette said. Lila had been claiming that she was Ladybug's best friend. If Marinette's story could be verified, Lila's credibility would crumble, and would more than likely never recover. Bad-mouthing a classmate was one thing. Bad-mouthing a superhero was an entirely new level of bad.

"And that's when Ladybug showed up."

The girls gasped as Alix frowned. "What do you mean Ladybug showed up? You can't expect us to believe that Ladybug really came there."

Marinette looked at Alix, not backing down a bit. "You don't have to believe me Alix, but you all asked to hear my side of the story, and I'm giving it to you. All I will say, is that I have proof that this happened."

Alix reluctantly backed off, and Marinette continued on.

"Anyway, when Ladybug showed up, she was really mad. She went off on Lila and exposed her for lying. Lila looked really embarrassed, and when Adrien said that he guessed that she wasn't actually everything she had claimed, Ladybug said that she was more of a super liar. That's when Lila screamed 'how dare you!' at Ladybug before grabbing her things and running off. Adrien was a bit upset that Ladybug had exposed Lila that way, and Ladybug told him firmly that she didn't put up with lies, especially when they were about her. Then she left."

Marinette sighed before looking to the side.

"At first, I felt kinda bad for Lila as she was getting chewed out by Ladybug. But when Lila screamed back at Ladybug, like it was Ladybug's fault and not her own for lying , any sympathy I felt died. How could she possibly blame Ladybug for exposing her? If Lila hadn't been lying, she wouldn't have gotten chewed out. She lied about a public figure and thought that she would get away with it scott-free."

Marinette's fists clenches on the table as she scowls, her eyes firmly looking at her now cold food.

"But what she doesn't understand, or care about, is that her lies have consequences. One of those was her being caught and exposed. She's honestly lucky that Ladybug only humiliated her in front of Adrien and not a whole bunch of people. Other people would have done much worse like sued her for libel or slander. She got off a lot easier than most do in my opinion, but instead of learning from the experience and coming clean, she continues to lie despite already experiencing the consequences of getting caught. Other consequences are people being hurt when she can't keep all the false promises she makes to people. That's what she's good at. She targets people and their interests in order to dazzle them, and doesn't care about who she might hurt as long as she gets the attention she wants and the recognition for things she falsely believes she deserves without doing any work."

Marinette's head lifts and she talks directly to the girls, trying as hard as she can to try and make her point stick.

"Her lying might not be as severe in any other place, but we're in Paris, where Hawk Moth can turn any bad day or negative emotion into a weapon--weapons that can be and have been fatal to a lot of people if not for Ladybug's Miraculous Ladybug at the end of each akuma battle. Imagine how many people she's made promises to regarding their passions just in our class alone? Imagine how many opportunities that is for Hawk Moth to akumatize them just because she falsely promised them an amazing opportunity, or claimed she had the connections to make someone's dreams come true, or even that she had a connection to someone that was widely loved or important?"

"......Like Prince Ali?" Rose said, her hand gripping Juleka's.

"Or Ladybug?" Alya said, her eyes guiltily shifting over to her laptop, one of Lila's interviews still paused on the screen.

Marinette's eyes softened as she reached across the table to pat their hands. "Hey, I didn't say all of that to make you guys feel bad. I said it because the severity of Lila's actions need to be known. In my book, you're all victims of her lies. You're all my friends, and I care about you all a lot. I know it seems like I was just being crazy jealous of Lila, but I'm telling you now, that's not that case. I will admit I was jealous in the beginning, but any jealousy immediately died when I found out what kind of person she is. I'm so crazy about exposing her because she's leading you all on by the nose, and I would never sit idly by while someone does that to people I care about. I may not have gone about it the right way at first, and while I am still hurt that I wasn't taken seriously, that's not going to stop me from trying to do the right thing. And the right thing is protecting my friends from someone who only wants to take advantage of their kindness for their own self-believed glory."

Mylene smiled a bit, and as she looked around the table at the others, she could tell that what Marinette said was getting through to them and sticking. Just like she thought before, all of the other evidence they came across paled in comparison to Marinette's testimony.

Marinette sighed before retracting her hands to fold them in front of her again, her posture more relaxed than it was in the beginning. "Anyway, to continue where I left off, after Ladybug chewed Lila out, I had been so shocked at everything going on, that I missed Adrien leaving. I took the opportunity to get the book out of the garbage bin. There hadn't been much in the bin, but I took the book home so that I could clean it and then return it to Adrien. Lila ended getting akumatized into Volpina, and then she got defeated. If I had known that the whole thing with his dad getting akumatized would happen, I would have texted Adrien that I had found the book. I had no idea that the book belonged to his dad. I was just trying my best to clean anything that had gotten onto the book, so that meant I had to go through every single page to make sure nothing gross got jammed in between the pages when it was tossed in the bin. I returned the book, but instead of telling Adrien's dad that Lila stole it, I took the fall for it."

Alix frowned. "Why would you do that? You could have gotten into major trouble!"

Marinette winced. "I was trying to be nice! I figured Lila had gotten into enough trouble for one day after being exposed and then akumatized, and I felt that I shouldn't make her day even worse. Of course if I had known what kind of person she really was, I would have absolutely ratted her out."

"Okay so, if what you're telling us is true, I can understand your anger towards Lila." Alix said, as she rested her head into her right hand, drumming her fingers with her left. Mylene had been waiting for that breakthrough. It seems like Marinette's testimony along with the other evidence had pushed Alix more on Marinette's side of the fence than Lila's.

"However," Alix continued. "That doesn't explain what Mylene saw on the train. Based on what you've told us so far, it seems that Lila wasn't even aware that you were there when Ladybug supposedly chewed Lila out. What's her beef with you?"

Mylene paused. That, she thought. That was something she hadn't quite figured out. That hostility towards Marinette couldn't all because of Adrien. The outright vitriol that Lila had glared at Marinette with while she'd been asleep, and the force that Lila had thrown away the croissant from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery told of something that went deeper than just two girl competing for a boy's attention. Turning her attention back to Marinette, Mylene became startled.

Marinette's entire posture had changed. Instead of the serious one she had in the beginning, or even the relaxed one she'd had just moments ago, now the posture she had was one Mylene was intimately familiar with.

Fear.

Marinette had gone from relaxed to afraid, her shoulders hunched in as she tried to make herself appear smaller. Her hands were no longer folded in front of her. Instead, they were now in her lap, the small movements in her arms indicating that she was picking at her nails--a nervous tick that she'd had for years due to Chloe's bullying, but hadn't done in a long time.

The fact that Marinette was scared enough to revert back to a harmful behavior that she'd grown out of was more than enough for Mylene to act.

"Marinette, hands."

In an instant, Marinette's hands stopped moving, and after a moment she took a few deep breaths before sitting up in her seat, her posture caught between relaxed and rigid. "Thanks Mylene, you saved my cuticles. The nail technician would have had a fit the next time I went to get my nails done."

Marinette smiled, but after a moment she could tell that her smile wasn't fooling anyone and the smile turned wry. "Swing and a miss huh?"

"Marinette," Mylene said, her fists lightly clenched. "Is there anything that happened between you and Lila that you haven't told us about?"

Marinette's head shot up and her eyes widened. Her fists began to clench but before they could, Mylene reached over with both hands and gently held hers. "Something did happen, didn't it..."

"I'm scared..." Marinette said.

"Whatever happened with Lila Marinette, it's okay. I believe you, and I'm sure the others will too. You don't have to be scared of Lila."

"I'm not scared of Lila! I'm scared that you won't believe me!" Marinette said as she ripped her hands away from Mylene and stood up, turning her backs to them. Her arms were straight at her sides with her fists clenched. The other girls were startled and taken aback at Marinette's outburst, but didn't have long to ponder Marinette's words before she started speaking again.

"I'm scared that if I tell what happened, after you guys finally started listening to what I had to say about Lila, that you'll just go right back to not believing me. That everything I had to say would have been for nothing."

"Marinette, I promise that won't happen." Mylene said, standing up and gently taking Marinette's hand again. Mylene looked towards the other girls, prompting them to say something.

Alya took the initiative first by standing up and circling the table to stand on Marinette's other side, also taking her hand. "I promise too Marinette. There's no way I'm just gonna flip back to not believing you. There's too much evidence without your side of the story in my opinion that tells me that Lila is up to no good. You can count on me."

Alix, Rose and Juleka followed up with their own reassurances, all of them surrounding Marinette as she tried her best to calm down. Mylene kept a subtle eye out for butterflies. Everyone in that room had been vulnerable for quite a while because of this situation, but Mylene wasn't gonna let Hawk Moth get a chance to use their emotions against them. After a few moments, Marinette's posture began to relax. When she was finally ready she sighed and shooed them all back to their seats before taking her own. After a few more deep breaths, no doubt stalling, Marinette finally told them.

"The day Lila came back, she threatened me."

Mylene's blood thundered in her ears, her eyes barely catching on to the reactions of the other girls. Juleka's wide-eyed stare, and Rose's hands covering her mouth. Alix's shaking fists, and Alya's eyes filled with righteous fury.

Mylene herself, however, was terrified.

Terrified because just one girl caused this. One girl, who hadn't even been there very long, was able to cause this much hurt, and pain, and terror with mostly just words. They were all startled out of their thoughts by Marinette speaking.

"Girls, it's okay."

Alix responded first, confusion beginning to outweigh the anger. "Okay? Okay?! How could that possibly be okay?!"

Marinette shushed her, patting one of her clenched fists. "Don't yell, you're gonna wake up the twins. But to answer your question, it's okay because now you guys believe me. It bothered me a lot at first, enough that I had almost been akumatized that day. But in the end I was able to remember that Hawk Moth only akumatizes people who think that there's no solution. But that's not how I am. The akuma left me alone but ended up akumatizing Lila for some reason."

Juleka frowned. "You were almost akumatized?"

"Yeah." Marinette said as she retracted her hands.

"Where did Lila threaten you Marinette?" Alya said, who had brought over her laptop without any of them noticing.

"It was in the girl's bathroom, right after that whole napkin debacle in the cafeteria on the day she came back."

"Lila did leave only a few moments after Marinette did that day..." Rose said.

"She said she was gonna go to the nurse...." Juleka said as she looked at Rose.

"Well I can tell you that's not where she went." Marinette said as she crossed her arms. "She came to the bathroom after me and tried to pretend to make nice, saying that she would help me get with Adrien. When I called her out on her crap, she started saying all of this stuff about how she was only telling people what they liked to hear. That's when she said that if I didn't want to be her friend that it was fine, but that soon I would have no friends and that she'd make sure I wouldn't get near Adrien at school or anywhere. Then she said, and these are her words not mine, that I seemed a little less dumb than the others and that she was gonna give me one last chance. She said she would give me until the end of the day and then she left. After school, right after I said goodbye to Alya and Nino, she turned up behind me, said it seemed like I'd made my choice, then threatened me again. She said that from now on, she and I were at war and that I would lose all of my friends and that Adrien would soon be hers."

"Oh my God..." Alya said as she covered her mouth. "I saw Lila standing there, but I didn't think anything of it. If I had walked Marinette home, or at least acknowledged that Lila was standing there...."

"She would have more than likely backed off." Marinette said. "Lila always likes to put on a happy face when others are around. She would never knowingly risk someone seeing how she truly is, because it would ruin everything she's 'worked' for. It's why both of the times she confronted me, we were totally alone. Unfortunately, because Lila likes to ambush people, it means that it'll be difficult to prepare for her nonsense. And it also means that I have no proof of her threats besides my word."

"No, I'd say you have plenty of proof." Alix said. "I mean, as much as it hurts to admit, her threats were actually coming true. I mean, if it hadn't been for Lila slipping up and Mylene noticing...."

Despite Alix trailing off, everyone knew what the words left unspoken meant. If Lila hadn't slipped up, they would have never believed Marinette.

Rose gasped, startling them all. "Wait! There's someone we're forgetting! Someone who knows about Lila!"

"Uh, you mean Ladybug?" Alya said. "I guess I could ask Ladybug-"

"No no! Adrien! We're forgetting Adrien! Marinette told us he was there when Ladybug exposed Lila. If we can get Adrien to corroborate her side of the story, then he can help convince everyone else about Lila!"

The girls began to get excited at the prospect of more evidence against Lila, and Mylene couldn't help but share that excitement. Like Mylene, Adrien wouldn't have any motive to be against Lila. To their knowledge, Adrien had been nothing but kind to Lila, and his word would be a very welcomed strike against Lila's gas lighting and attempts to turn people's own words against them, like she'd done to Marinette.

"I...wouldn't count on it." Marinette said, sighing as she sank a bit into her seat. "He knows that Lila is lying, but he'd rather we take the highroad instead of exposing her. He said that if we humiliated her, she'll just be hurt more."

"But....But that's insane!" Alya said as she frowned. "How could he possibly let Lila continue on after knowing she lied to all of us and after knowing that she threatened you?!"

Marinette went silent then, her eyes drifting off to the side. Mylene's eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to Marinette as Marinette subtley inched away.

"Marinette, look me in the eye and tell me you didn't."

The others were confused for a moment before Alya's eyes seemed to widen and then narrow at Marinette. "Marinette....You did tell Adrien that Lila threatened you....Right?"

At Alya's question, Alix, Rose and Juleka's eyes all turned to Marinette, who shrunk down even more. Mylene spoke again. "Marinette, look me in the eye and tell me you didn't keep quiet to Adrien about Lila threatening you."

"I can't!" Marinette exclaimed as she threw up her arms. "I can't because I didn't tell him!"

"Marinette how could you keep quiet!" Alya hissed, her phone already in her hand. Mylene could already guess that Alya was two seconds away from either texting or calling Adrien and telling him everything.

"I was trying to give Lila another chance. Adrien was so sure that Lila would just corner herself with her lies and I get what he's saying, but I also know that it won't work because even if she gets exposed on her own, she's gonna be humiliated and angry just as much as if we had exposed her sooner. Taking the highroad just makes sure that Lila gets away with what she's doing longer and more people get hurt."

"Then why didn't you tell him that?"

"I didn't want him to be disappointed in me! He said I was an Everyday Ladybug at the picnic and that I always helped everyone. I didn't want to seem mean or like I didn't want to give Lila a chance to fit in at school. He asked me if it really mattered as long as he and I knew the truth. So I just shrugged off Lila's threat. I didn't think things would get this bad, or that she would threaten me again after school..."

Everyone went silent at that point, before Alya raised her phone to her face. "You get all that Sunshine?"

"......Yeah, I heard everything Alya."

Everyone froze, none more stiffly than Marinette who seemed to have gone catatonic at the sound of Adrien Agreste's voice from Alya's phone.

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

@akana-sama @heredemaquam @lamestplaceontheinternet @graduatedmelon @vivilakitty @sinfulfoxbeast 

#miraculous ladybug #ml salt #ml fic #ml season 3 #startrain #mylene haprele #the fog is lifting #lexysama

[8emmy]

(Not) So Sweet Home Velaris - Chapter 2 - Not one to be a visitor

Sweet Home Alabama AU: AO3 link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

Nesta watched Cassian as he clicked the top of the pen. She watched her estranged husband rub his stubbled chin as he looked through the paperwork. When did he grow a beard? It wasn't long, more like a five o'clock shadow. Scratchy whiskers that were darker and more defined closer to his jaw. He looked rugged and more adult. In her mind, when she thought of Cassian, which was not very often, she saw him never ageing always staying at nineteen, frozen in time.

Her phone buzzed. Cassian's deep brown eyes flicker to her narrowing down to her purse where the vibration was coming from. Nesta pulled it out and saw Tomas' name on the display. "I have to take this, it's work," Nesta gets up, making her way to the front yard before answering.

"Tomas." It comes out as a sigh as she leans against a tree.

"Nesta, how's the conference going?" Tomas's voice was muffled, most likely talking through his headphones as he walked from his office to the gym. She was already missing the structure of home. Tomas lived off a schedule, he woke up at four in the morning to do meditation for an hour, at five he would call her and then at six they would go for a morning jog. It was so easy to live life in a schedule. Nothing surprising, nothing sneaking up behind to catch you off guard. It was comforting.

"As good as it can be. Networking and listening to big egos talk about their great achievements," Nesta shoots a look toward the house seeing if the two men inside were trying to listen in to her conversation. "Jared sent me a long-winded email, so I'm still on the clock, which means..."

"A bigger honeymoon for us. Did you read the fifty emails I sent you last night? The wedding planners still need approvals if we're going with a live band or a DJ."

"I thought we already talked about that. Live band, we're classy, not trashy."

"And there are also-"

"I'll read the emails when I get back to the hotel. I can't right now."

"Not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No, of course not. It's busy at work right now. There are too many companies that are going public and don't get me started on the multitude of -"

"I get it, you're very busy," Tomas had away of making everything he said sound a tad bit condescending. Like you had to take a double-take to question if he was trying to be rude or it was just Tomas, "But you need to remember our relationship is a top priority, which means?"

"Our wedding is top priority. I'll email the planners tonight when I get back to the hotel."

"Okay, I got to go. At the gym. Love you," he hangs up before her reply.

Our wedding is top priority, not her career, which is currently taking a back seat as she is dealing with the only important thing that decides if she gets married or not. She runs her hands up her face and back down as she groans. Hopefully, when she gets back into that kitchen, Cassian signed the papers and she could catch the next flight out of this Cauldron damned place.

He's still clicking the pen when she gets in. Rhys was now sitting in one of the uneven kitchen table chairs. He wobbles as he moves to watch Nesta re-enter the room. She takes her seat and the vinyl whines.

"You should have replaced these years ago." She says while trying to find her balance.

"They're my grandma's," Cassian replies, flipping to a new page. Right his grandmother, the woman who raised him when his mom died. She was a tough old lady. She didn't approve of Nesta mostly because her father was gambling drunk, and as Cassian's grandmother was extremely religious, she believed the devil was in the drink, and a dollar lost to sin was a mark of sinister things to come. She basically thought Nesta would either make Cassian a sinner or that Nesta was a witch the charmed Cassian into dating her. Either way, Nesta was a bad influence on her grandson. And yet she was the one that insisted the two got married.

"How's work?" Rhys awkwardly asked, trying to break the awkward standstill as Nesta watch Cassian read.

"Fine, you?" She watches Cassian flip to the next page. He clicks the pen again.

"Good. Feyre and Elain are good too. Elain is working up in the Steeps at a flower shop. And Feyre is actually working with - Ouch!" Rhys yelps lifting his foot from the floor up to his seat. Cassian looks up at him, and they share a long silent conversation over intense eye contact. Rhy breaks eye contact looking back to Nesta, "Feyre is working."

"Nice." She really didn't need the update on her sisters as Elain messages Nesta's work email on the daily with reports on her everyday life. Today Nesta received an email with the subject line: "We ran out of orange roses, and I need three thousand for a wedding :{!! Also, I made cookies, and the recipe was from Pinterest:) I sent you the link!!!!". Life was difficult when you lived in the era of google sleuthing, and your job gives out your email to the public for cold calls.

"Um..." Rhys drummed his thumbs on the table, thinking of anything else he could talk about with Nesta.

"You really don't need to try to talk to me. I would prefer it if you don't."

It was quiet for a while. Nesta watching Cassian, Cassian reading and Rhys watching Nesta. Cassian looks down at his watch. Cassian places the pen down. "Rhys? What time is it?" Cassian asks, turning to look at his brother.

"I don't know. Close to three." Rhys replies.

Cassian puts down Nesta's pen and looks at her. "After careful review, I am not signing anything without my lawyer present."

Nesta's mouth tightens. "What do you mean you won't sign anything? I thought I made it clear that I don't have the time to wait for Varian to come back to review papers that have not been changed."

"Nesta, I am no lawyer. All this is," he pushes the papers back to Nesta, "is gibberish. It's like reading Tolstoy; my mind can't keep up with the words I'm reading." He puts Nesta's pen in his pocket while getting up. Nesta looks at the papers in disbelief.

"I can't believe that you would do this..." Nesta whispers to herself. Her ice glare focus right at Cassian. "I can't believe that you hate the idea that I am happy that you would sabotage my future by being... an... asshole!" She yells at him; she stands up and stabs her finger at his chest. He looks at her with steeled eyes. She only saw that look once in her life, and that was when he met his birth father. It was as if he saw right through her like she wasn't there at all.

"I am not signing anything, Nesta." He moves to the door picking up his plate of biscuits as he went.

Nesta grabs her purse, making sure to put the papers into it before following Cassian out to the porch and down to the dirt driveway. "Where do you think you're going?" She calls after him. He didn't even lock his door. Small town living was full of idiots who trusted their neighbours wouldn't go wandering into their homes, taking anything from them.

Cassian turns to face Nesta, "To your sisters' for dinner." Cassian turns to Rhys, "Let's take your car."

"What about me? What am I supposed to do? Sit on your porch and wait till Varian comes?" Nesta crosses her arms.

"I really don't give a fuck where you go," Cassian replies, getting to the sheriff's passenger side door.

Rhys looks like he would want to be anywhere but here. "You can come over for dinner. I am sure Feyre can make room at the table for an extra mouth."

"And be what? A bombshell? No, I rather not be in anyone's way, except yours Cassian." She points at him through the front window of the car.

"Where will you stay? There's no hotels in Velaris?" Rhys asks. He stood by his open door.

"I'll go to one of the resorts... Or something," Nesta replies. She really didn't think that she would be here for a full week. She didn't pack an entire suitcase of clothes; instead, she had a weekender bag with a second set of clothes in case she missed her flight, which she will in four hours...

"Nesta, Feyre and Elain would be happy to have you stay with them."

"No, I can't do that." She didn't want to see her sisters, it wasn't that she didn't love them; she adored them. But they had multiple heated arguments since her move to Orilion that put a heavy strain on her relationship with the two. Nesta feared that if she stayed under the same roof as both them, that sure enough, the argument will arise and more hurt feelings would inevitably ensue, and there would be no escape by hanging up a cellphone.

"Of course, you can, I insist that -"

"Rhys, let it go. If Nesta wants to set up camp on my porch, so be it. At least the crows won't peck at my garden with a scarecrow like her." Cassian interjects.

"There are more weeds than vegetables in that garden, and you know that."

"If you would like. I mean, you could always come with us to visit your family and friends." Cassian replies.

"I don't have friends here."

Cassian laughs dryly. "Did you hear that, Rhys. Nesta forgot that you can't throw away friends when you up and leave them." He turns to look at her, "Your fortunate to know that those people that were your friends still see you as such."

"Nesta..." Rhys pauses, thinking of the best way to approach the beast, that is, Nesta. He opens his mouth and closes it again. Why repeat what Cassian said, even if it was going to be more sugar-coated. "If you feel that you can't stand being here out in the cold, come by to your sisters. I really think that they would happily open their arms to you." And with that, Rhys slipped into his car, buckles up and heads out with Cassian. ______

Nesta sat on the porch stairs looking out to the lake. In her hand was her work cellphone opened to her emails. She was at first scrolling through the twelve unread emails, all asking what her status was with preparing the first prospectus for a new tech company. Instead of replying, she watched the water lap the stone beach. It was tranquil here. The sound of the breeze through the trees and the crickets in the meadow was like a time machine. Nesta took a long breath and paused. She closed her eyes and took in the only minute of stillness she had from the past nine years, no since she was nine. The city was loud and busy and made it easy for her to push down her need to review her life choices and start the process of regret. One of the best things about being a lawyer was that you could keep working till you crash and gosh did she push herself to crash. She let her breath go.

She knew that her relationship with Tomas might not be the best with communication. Tomas was not a conversationist. He was a man of passion... for his job, golfing, gym and sometimes her. And that suited Nesta's life perfectly. She needs her independence. He never got too upset when she stayed late at the office, nor did he get upset when she had to skip out and take a phone call while out to lunch. He cared for her.

He bought her expensive gifts and vacations; he made his bachelor apartment their home with her own office, and Nesta appreciated his company, well most of the time. One of the very few dislikes that Nesta did not really love of Tomas was his frat boy attitude to things. He was a rich boy that went to a prestigious university only to party and work half-assed to get his diploma for business and went straight to work at his parent's company. Tomas went to one of the top fraternities where he spoke only rich boy. He was dull and came across as stupid when he talked to his university friends. His social media was full of photos of him flexing at the gym with captions: "Flex Friday." He was very much two dimensional in public.

But he was safe, and he was home.

She walks over to her car to grab her laptop. Might as well start on the prospectus and those emails before the phone calls start.

______

Bored. She was bored. She made her way into Cassian's kitchen to work as the idiot didn't lock his door when he left. She sent off a rough first draft of the prospectus to the lead partner for review and finished her emails with in the first three hours. Cassian was still not home.

Nesta did not want to sit around for the rest of the afternoon, waiting for Cassian to be back. She searched on her laptop for hotels in the Steep. She looked for a midrange hotel and called they had no rooms. She called the next hotel... and the next hotel... She called every Cauldron forsaken hotel in all of the Steeps, and none had a hotel room. It was mid-June, and every hotel was booked. It would make sense if it was the winter months as skiing and snowboarding were very popular, but mid-June? She had nowhere to stay except her rental car, which was not idle. Who wanted to be that loser that slept in her rental in front of her estranged husband's home? Not her.

She thought of her next choices. She already crossed out her car. She could see if Mr. Surriel wouldn't mind her staying at his home. No, she did not want to stay at his place to be used as a gossip mine. Her only other option was her sisters' home. She weighed her options again but only came out with the same conclusion.

She got into her car and drove.

______

Her childhood home was similar in style to Cassian's but with a second floor. It resided in the far edge of town nestled by trees with a large backyard where Elain's garden bloomed this time of year. It was a home full of melancholy memories.

Nesta parked in front of the neighbours and once again debated. Cassian had yet to come back, which meant he was most likely still with her sisters, which most likely also means that her sisters' friends were even there. She had to make another choice. Sit in her car and wait or get out and walk to that front door like a big girl.

With her weekender bag over her shoulder and her purse nestled in the crook of her elbow, she walked on the uneven cement pathway to the front porch. Elain's roses crept up trellises next to the living room window. The front door was painted firey red ombre to almost appear that it was a flame, Feyre's work most defiantly. The closer Nesta got to the front door, the louder the laughter and music got inside. The driveway proved that there were plenty more people than just her two sisters, Cassian and Rhys.

Nesta brought her ringless hand (she stashed it away in her purse in hopes that she wouldn't need to have an argument over invitations) and knocked. She paused, waiting for the noise to die down. It didn't. She knocked again. Nothing. She twists the door and to her, not surprise the door opened.

The small foyer welcomed her in with photos of her younger years. A bench next to the door was crammed with shoes of all types and sizes in disarray. Nesta slipped off her heels and held them, not wishing to lose them in the pile. She passed the stairs to the left into the living room, where a large L-shaped couch faced a fireplace and bookcases full of novels and knick-nacks. A small electric piano was pushed to the wall next to the archway to the kitchen with sheet music opened.

Coffee mugs and plates of snacks once forgotten littered the coffee table. In her childhood, the living room lived only a sofa bed where her father slept. It looked such a different know like people actually lived here and not just slept.

The laughter was loud and coming from the kitchen. Nesta could hear Feyre telling a story about Vin's general store and making a narrow escape from buying an overly expensive coffee machine. She then made fun of how it was the same model Rhys just recently purchased at a marked up price in the city.

"If I knew that Isaac was going to be selling them next to the frozen section of Vin's, I wouldn't have travel three hours to get a triple priced machine."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, babe," Feyre replies with a giggle.

Nesta's breezing is hitched. What was she doing? Sleeping in her car would be far less horrible than walking into her childhood home with no explanation, then there were no hotels, and I am trying to get a divorce.

"Well, if you want to know, my day was very eventful."

"You caught another speeding teen?" Amren asks.

"No, I actually dealt with a house call, didn't I Cassian?"

"What house call, you didn't... No. We are not discussing that."

"Discussing what?" Elain piped up.

"Nothing -" Cassian got caught off from Rhys.

"Cassian had a little house intruder."

"Stop talking, Rhys. I swear to the Cauldron that you will regret whatever you say next."

"Someone that - Ahh! Get off of me!" There was a loud commotion sounding as if Cassian jumped on top of Rhys.

Nesta heard as everyone tried to separate the two brothers. "If you're going to fight, do it outside!" Feyre yelled.

"I was only going to tell them that -"

"Shut your stupid mouth, Rhys. That is none of your fucking concern."

"That Nesta is back?"

Silence. No one made a move. "That was no concern for any of us?" Elain asks. "That my sister appeared in town after a year of no contact?"

"Elain, she came here to see me."

"She's my sister. If she showed up out of thin air, I want to know. I don't care if she was there to see you." Elain's voice was restrained. It was the angriest Nesta heard from her.

"She said she didn't want to see you and to know that she was in town," Cassian continued.

"I don't care what she said. I want to know these things." Elain replied.

"Elle, she said she didn't want us to know," Feyre calmly said.

"I don't care."

"I know. But you have to understand that Nesta wants her space."

"I don't fucking care! I am sick of her avoidance. If she's here, I want to see her. Where is she, Cassian."

"I don't know," Cassian replies.

"Yes, you do. Where is she?"

"She was at my porch last I saw her. She said that she was going to the Steeps to get a hotel."

"She might be still at your place. Feyre, can you drive me?"

"Elain, I really think that you shouldn't just ambush her. And most likely, Nesta is up in a resort somewhere."

"If you won't take me, then I am just going to go myself."

"You're going to walk all the way to Cassian's?"

"Yes."

Nesta could hear footsteps nearing her, not so hidden spot. Nesta looked around, trying to spot a place that didn't make it look like she was overhearing their entire conversation. She walked quickly back to the foyer.

"Elain, I'll take you tomorrow. If anything, she will be back at Cassian's." Rhys said, following Elain into the living room.

Elain walked her feet made no noise as she got closer and closer to her sister. "I don't want to go tomorrow I want to see her -- Nesta?"

#nessian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #Sweet Home Alabama

[more--than--anything]

Episode Review: "I'm having the time of my life." [S4E08]

Mid-season finales always tend to end on a major cliffhanger, and this one was no exception. We have Tasha and Reade pointing guns at each other, Kurt and Remi on the brink of hand-to-hand combat (with Remi’s health rapidly declining), and Shepherd is on the loose again. Did this episode live up to expectations?

Y: I love Blindspot’s midseason finales. They always have a way of thwarting one threat only to make way for something bigger and more sinister and more dangerous. We thought Remi was dangerous? Well, now Shepherd is on the loose. We thought Mad Maddie was all kinds of crazy? Well now she’s teamed up with the biggest most dangerous man south of the border. Nothing says happy holidays like sending you on a four-week hiatus spent eating your weight in all kinds of foods while you get more and more worried about your fictional characters day after day.

L: Blindspot definitely does cliffhanger finales right. I love how we wrap up a few loose ends, but still manage to end on this great sense of motion, like we’re paused on an indrawn breath, but we have to wait until January to exhale. Once we’re done stuffing chocolate and cookies and other holiday treats in our faces, we can use the paper bags they came in to hyperventilate into!

It’s just another day at the FBI... until NORAD reports that a nuclear missile is heading toward New York City. Well actually, someone trying to blow up New York is a pretty ordinary day at work for our team, but something about this attack is just a little different than the other ones they’ve thwarted. How does our seriously-decimated team rise to meet this new challenge?

L: “Kind of feels like we’re due for some good news right about now,” says Rich, just before all the screens at the NYO turn red and announce, “Ballistic missile inbound to New York. Seek immediate shelter. This is not a drill.” Our team is certainly no stranger to dealing with nukes and terrorists who’d like to remodel the New York City skyline, but the threats they usually tackle are of the “preventing the launch” variety. The CIRG team has 32 minutes before impact to try to minimize casualties. They immediately mobilize, sending teams out to halt incoming traffic into the city and get people into shelters.

Fortunately, our team isn’t easily fooled. Patterson discovers that the launch coordinates point to a US Navy submarine, just as Weller informs them that the Navy says all of their warheads are accounted for. Rich immediately figures out that NORAD has been hacked, their sensors tricked into detecting a missile that isn’t there and sending out an all-too-real emergency alert. (I love the callback to episode 2.07 and Rich’s fascination with the movie War Games. Also I love that the writers of this show apparently grew up on the same movies I did.) Rich goes looking for the source of the hack, but instead of being sent on the wild IP goose chase he expects, he finds a single device, at a location inside the FBI. In short order, he finds the disguised ethernet cable that Boston had Remi install, which he recognizes as his own invention.

Working backwards from the device, Rich identifies two locations that used it to access the FBI network: Boston’s safe house and the warehouse where Weller tracked Remi. They realize that Remi intended the attack as a diversion. Looking at the files that Boston pulled off the FBI servers, they discover he retrieved the locations of CIA black sites, although not the specific individuals held at each one, as well as CIA protocol in case of an emergency such as a nuclear attack. Weller calls the CIA to warn them that they are about to ambushed, but without sharing Remi’s involvement in the scheme. The CIA, of course, doesn’t need the FBI’s help (aside from our tiny joint task force, do any federal agencies on this show ever play nicely?) and go ahead with their plan to move Shepherd.

Boston is missing, so they figure correctly that Remi still needs him for something... like turning the traffic lights green so they can escape the traffic gridlock in the city. (Although the color of the traffic lights doesn’t usually seem to have much impact on real New York City gridlock.) The team finds a line of traffic lights that have been turned to green and then left at blinking yellow. Following “the yellow brick road,” Weller sets out to intercept them. He’s too late to stop Remi and Violet from freeing Shepherd (and it’s very convenient that although both Remi and Violet shoot at the CIA agents, Violet is the only one who actually hits one, while Remi just knocks the other one unconscious—thus keeping her “no killing of federal agents” record clean). Remi shoots out one of the tires in the car Weller’s driving and sends it tumbling down a hill before she heads off with Shepherd.

Boston convincingly plays possum and gets left behind when Remi departs. He is concerned about Kurt, but this is the same guy who was mildly annoyed by an explosion that punctured his jugular, so a car crash/head wound barely rates “minor inconvenience” on the Weller injury scale when Jane’s safety is at risk. Boston tells Kurt that Remi is hallucinating Roman, and they realize that time is running out to find a cure for Remi’s ZIP poisoning. Rich uses his “Deep Fake” software to create a video of Roman telling Remi that he has something she needs and sends it to the encrypted email address she was using to communicate with Boston. And fortunately for them, Remi is so lost in her hallucinatory reality that she doesn’t stop to wonder exactly how her dead brother is Skyping her from the great beyond.

Weller and Remi face off and then run at each other in what the entire internet immediately agreed appears to be the lead-in to the iconic dance lift from Dirty Dancing. (We’ll have to withhold judgment until January 11th to see if it surpasses Eli Manning and Odell Beckham’s NFL version.) But I think it’s pretty clear that putting Baby, I mean Remi, in a corner (or a cell with four corners) isn’t going to be an easy task for anyone, no matter how good your dance moves are.

So another draw for our team this week. They sort of stopped a nuclear attack that wasn’t really happening, but not in time to prevent widespread panic (and a few confessions of undying love, so hey, it’s not all bad news). They are unable to prevent Remi from freeing Shepherd, who is now on the loose. And they still don’t have a real cure for Remi’s ZIP poisoning. So basically, everything is going to hell in a handbasket (and we haven’t even gotten to Reade and Tasha holding each other at gunpoint yet), which is how we know this is the mid-season finale, right? Bring on the second half of the season. I’m ready!!

Interesting side note: With Reade suspended (and Weitz out of the office for unspecified reasons), Weller has apparently resumed the mantle of AD of the NYO. He is the one directing the tactical teams before they leave SIOC and updating the governor on the situation. But as much as we like looking at him in a suit, he has kind of a lot on his plate right now, what with both stopping and saving his wife, as well as concealing everything from the FBI, CIA, NORAD, and everyone else. The last thing he needs right now are the pressures and time commitment of the AD job. I told you, they should have put Patterson in charge. We know she is more than capable of bossing around the people in her lab, and I’m thinking she’s ready for the larger stage.

Y: I honestly do not know what they are waiting for. Appointing Patterson as boss seems so obvious. I think the suits upstairs are just worried she might be a little too good for the job. But seriously, can you imagine her as the boss? I need that. I desperately need that!

Although I am also secretly hoping this position would eventually be Tasha’s. I’ve been holding on to that since her scene with Mayfair in 1.21, and I know we’ve come a long since then and Tasha has been through so much, but I really think she’d own that position and make Mayfair so proud.

But back to our episode, it’s been a while since we’ve had a nuclear threat case of the week. And even though this was a fake one it was just as exciting watching the team solve it and get to the bottom of it as it would have been watching them stop it. I mean, we’ve already done that and we know they can pull it off—although seeing the two NASA reps again would’ve been nice. I miss Eileen.

I think my favorite thing in all this is that it took a real nuclear threat to lock Shepherd up and a fake one to get her out. I also loved that Shepherd’s initial getaway/nuclear vehicle was an ambulance in season two and her actual escape vehicle was also an ambulance. Kind of poetic in a terrifying way of you ask me.

To be honest, I never really expected them to go through with the Remi getting Shepherd out plan. I thought somehow she would get close but never be able to get it done. And now that it has happened, I won’t lie, I don’t know how I feel about it. On the one hand, I don’t want the rest of the season to become a repeat of the second season with Shepherd as the villain and the team trying to stop her again. But then again, Shepherd is one of the most interesting and compelling characters that has ever been on this show and getting her back would be incredible. And, I mean, Michelle Hurd is a rock star and having her on the show only makes it so much better. So the question is, will Shepherd be playing a big role this season? Is she the new villain? Will she somehow cross paths with Mad Maddie? And how can we have her back in a new and refreshing way that is not a repeat of the second season?

Poor Boston finds out the hard way that you can’t trust everything a non-FBI-agent noncommittally hints at to you. How does his bad day go from worse to worst?

L: I have to admit, I’ve been low-key worried about Boston ever since Remi recruited him. The odds seemed pretty evenly divided between Remi killing him to shut him up and the FBI throwing him back into supermax for the rest of his natural life. So I might be almost as happy as Rich that Boston escaped both of these fates.

Y: Oh yes, absolutely! The moment Remi showed up at his door step, I was almost 100% certain things were going to end up extremely terribly for Boston so you can say I am insanely beyond relieved that he survived all this. All the signs were pointing towards a terrible fate for Boston but I guess he was lucky that Weller is so blinded by love for his wife and the need to protect her that he somehow got under that blanket of protection. I just hope this also serves as a gateway for him to be more involved in the future somehow. I think he proved his usefulness, not just in this episode, and we do need more snarky, wise-ass, former criminals on this team, don’t we?

L: Always!

Boston has apparently moved from his narwhal period into his kiwi period. The greatest threat to the narwhal is their isolation, but the greatest threat to the flightless kiwi is apparently invasive mammalian predators. So if the greatest threat to Remi is her isolation, the greatest threat to the under house arrest and therefore (in theory) flightless Boston is the very predatory Remi. As Picasso said, “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.” Unfortunately for Boston, his art didn’t make him realize that he’d been played just a little while sooner.

But he is a survivor (just like Rich is, which might explain their mutual attraction). He does whatever he has to do in order to survive, whether it’s playing dead or immediately letting go of his anger at being played by Remi in order to try to curry favor with Remi and Violet and finding ways to show them how useful he can be. Roman warns Remi, “He will rat you out the first chance he gets,” which is pretty much exactly what Boston does when he ends up in FBI custody. And to be honest, I did kind of wonder if Boston was playing on Rich’s sympathies there at the end. The little smirk on his face could mean that he’s happy about being free, that he’s happy about Rich, or that he got his way. Like Rich, he’s just a little bit ambiguous in the morality department. I hope we see more of him this season!

And I’m not gonna deny it, Boston and Rich may be individually a mess and possibly even worse together, but the parallel of the two of them torturing love confessions out of each other (Rich when Boston faked the missile attack and Boston when Rich lied to him about his fate) is kind of precious, and I am really invested in the two of them getting some heavy-duty counseling and working things out between them. I mean, how often do you go from “I love you” to “You are a horrible human being. You’re a monster. You’re a garbage person” in just a matter of moments? Those are some strong, deep emotions there. How can you not ship it??

Y: Patterson was not wrong when she called their relationship toxic and she is very much right in so many ways but I think they can also be so good to each other. Just like Rich and Boston themselves, there is always a comedic element to how their relationship will be represented but it will always carry a layer of true, honest emotion. And there’s also something very real about the relationship between those two and something very true to who they are. I mean, doesn’t every relationship go turbulently between I love you’s and I hate you’s? I loved how those two take their competitiveness everywhere they go, from wanting to be the best hackers to competing for the FBI job and in who can give the best love speeches and who can trick the other into confessing their feelings. It’s different and it’s fresh and it’s fun and it keeps adding layers to these characters and make us want more and more of them.

Meanwhile, Patterson hooks Weitz and Reade up with fake passports for their trip to Mexico City. Does this dubiously dynamic duo have any success in their hunt to bring in Zapata?

L: Weitz and Reade continue to be the oddest couple of all, although we sadly don’t get to spend as much time this week with the buddy cop show. Patterson pretty much sums it up for us: “You and Weitz? Weird.” And she shares our reservations about Weitz’s abilities as a backup. He does carry a gun in this episode, but we don’t see him fire it. (I’m just gonna go out on a limb and guess that he’s not nearly as accurate a shot as Madeline is.) But nonetheless, our good cop/bad cop team is off to Mexico.

Y: This definitely is the strangest pairing we have ever had on the show, more even than when Rich and Kurt ended up as a married couple in a creepy sex-crazed underground college cult, but that’s what I love about the show. The richness of these characters gives us all these fun possibilities of pairings and they are always an opportunity for something new and fresh and to send these characters on exciting journeys and new and challenging tests to add to their journey.

I kind of expected we would see slightly more of the two than just them finally ending up crossing paths with Tasha but we don’t. And yet somehow they end up in the exact right corner of the market where she is. I am not doubting Reade’s abilities and skills to track her down but the investigation must have been fun with Weitz as his partner. I just rue the missed opportunity of Weitz sitting there watching Reade do all the hard work while he undoubtedly used every chance he got to enjoy the new toy he’s been issued.

L: I wish we could have seen a little more of the two of them tracking Tasha down, too. But whatever they are doing seems to be working, as not only do they find Tasha, they manage to neatly corner her. And frankly, if I were Weitz, I’d probably be a little nervous. Because, as Patterson would say, Tasha is for sure a better shot than he is. (Although he does appear to at least be holding his gun correctly.) And she hasn’t been a big fan of his since he manipulated her into digging up dirt on Mayfair. Then again, killing/injuring the Director of the FBI might make it hard for Tasha to get her job back, once she makes it through this mess, so maybe that’s a point in his favor? Either way, he definitely must seem like less of a threat than Reade, because Tasha immediately turns her back on him to point her gun at Reade.

To be fair, shooting the AD of the NYO isn’t a much better plan, career-wise. And even though Tasha might have been quick to shoot Jane, I’m betting that she’s not quite as eager to shoot the man she loves. But for all his tough words (“This ends with you in cuffs or one of us dead”), I don’t think Reade is any more eager to shoot Tasha than she is to shoot him.

But honestly, I’m rooting for Reade right now. If anyone can save Tasha from herself (whether she’s deep undercover or just turning to a life of crime), it’s Reade. No matter how angry he is at her right now, he’s still the person who cares about her the most.

Y: I don’t think I have ever rooted for anyone on this show like I am rooting for Reade at the moment to be able to pull Tasha out of this—regardless of what this is. And honestly, she’s saved his ass so many times before over the years that he owes her big time and it’s about time someone had Tasha’s back like she’s had everyone else’s all this time.

And even if he’s driven by anger and betrayal at this point, we know behind all this is love and friendship and a connection and partnership that goes deeper than anything. I have faith in Reade, almost as much as I’m terrified for the both of them right now of how all this is going to unfold. And no matter how things end, there are only more obstacles along the way. Let’s not forget who else is also in the picture here, whether it’s Madeline and her new bestie or Larren over at the CIA who’s probably out there measuring body bags for Zapata’s homecoming.

Speaking of Zapata, she and her new “partner” politely request a meeting with a Mexican crime lord. Are they able to convince him to let them borrow his ace hacker?

Y: Before we get into how dark and sinister and scary their little trip south was, can we please just take a moment to appreciate Tasha/Audrey speaking Spanish. Look, don’t judge me but that was insanely hot, okay? I need more of that, please.

Okay now, let’s focus on the other things that happened...

L: If Reade and Weitz are an odd couple, I don’t even know what to call Tasha and Madeline. The minute Tasha sees the alert about the missile heading toward New York City, she assumes it’s Mad Maddie’s doing. And really, that does seem like a logical conclusion; with the casual disregard for human life that Madeline has demonstrated thus far, nuking New York City doesn’t seem too far out of the range of possibility. I’m not sure which of them seems crazier: Mad Maddie or the woman who is determined to make all her crazy plans become reality??

I can’t decide if I am impressed by Madeline’s resilience or terrified by how blithely unconcerned Madeline is about the attack. I’m going to go with door number two, because as Tasha points out, HCI Global headquarters is in New York, so if the city is destroyed, HCI will take a huge blow as well. If the success of HCI was truly Madeline’s goal, this news should concern her. But it doesn’t. Like Remi, Madeline’s madness is showing. (Although unlike Remi, this isn’t exactly a new development.)

Y: I think the one thing we can say we have learned in this first half of the season is that Madeline’s brand of crazy is a whole new level for Blindspot and that we should always—always—be terrified by everything she does and says. We’re maybe starting to get some indication as to what is driving her, but whatever it is, it has pushed her to a point of complete disregard for human life, no matter who it is, and made her so blindly focused on it that she does not care what else happens around her as long as her to-do list is on track. We’re still not crystal clear on her endgame or why she’s even doing all this, but we at least know that we should be scared. Very, very scared.

And mostly for Tasha, who, the longer she spends time with Maddie, will find herself surrounded more and more by crazier and more terrifying people and find herself falling deeper and deeper into this dark pit.

L: Crazy Train, Inc. finds Franco Cortez’s accountant and politely ask him at gunpoint to arrange a nice luncheon with Franco. Unsurprisingly, this approach isn’t successful, but then very surprisingly, Tasha turns her back on him. That seems like a really out-of-character mistake for her to make, but then again, she was standing with her back to Madeline, which was probably even more unnerving. Miguel goes for a gun hidden under his desk, but Madeline neatly puts a bullet in his shooting arm. I feel like we’re supposed to be surprised that Madeline is a good shot, but I’m not. She’s clearly spent the past thirty years working on her doctoral thesis on “how to kill people who piss you off.” Marksmanship seems like an intro class in that program.

Team Bad Girls get their lunch with Franco and sit down for an awkward chat at gunpoint. Madeline tells him that they can help him with a rival cartel in Bartoba. Franco is unconvinced until Madeline asks him to check his phone, where there is a news blurb about a non-fatal hit on the president of Bartoba (right below the nuke heading for New York), which she tells him is a “proof of concept.” “You’re crazy, you know? I love it,” Franco tells her. Oh Franco, you don’t know the half of it. Crazy doesn’t begin to cover her. Franco offers to swap Del Toro for Tasha. And I don’t know, but part of me is sorry that deal didn’t go through. I feel like Tasha would be safer pretty much anywhere other than beside Madeline, even in the custody of a Mexican crime lord. Franco agrees, and Madeline sends Tasha off to fetch Del Toro in Canada.

Y: Oh, I also wanted that swap deal to go through only to see how Tasha will handle this one. She just finds herself going from one terrible situation to another and it has been amazing watching Tasha handle it all and watching Audrey being given all these amazing opportunities to shine.

Also, working with Franco would have meant more Spanish speaking moments from Tasha and I am shallow like that.

But back to that lunch—how amazing was that scene? The back and forth between Madeline and Franco was so incredibly written and so chillingly evilly played by both actors. Hats off to everyone in that scene, seriously, I was blown away. Seeing someone like Franco comment on Madeline’s crazy but also be in awe of it was great, especially considering that that someone is a feared drug lord himself, so I am sure he has his own brains of crazy. When one crazy is left in awe of another, you know things are about to get very interesting.

L: There is nothing about this partnership that is remotely comforting. I wonder if this will be a one-shot deal, or if we have to worry about Franco too now in the back half of the season?

I do have to say that Madeline avoiding Canada, the land of the most apologetically polite people on earth, cracks me up. I guess it shouldn’t surprise us that she’s allergic to the words, “I’m sorry.” But Madeline opting out of a trip to the frozen north means that Tasha is on her own now. I love the way they filmed the chase scene: Tasha looking up to see Reade and then taking off through the market before being cornered by Weitz and Reade. Weitz does manage to point the business end of his gun at her in a convincing fashion, but there is no way he’s as good a shot as Madeline, so it’s fortunate for Weitz and Reade that she’s already departed. But it’s unfortunate for Tasha, as there is no one to help rescue her from this predicament.

Which brings us to Tasha. My husband turned to me at the end of this episode and said, “She’s not convincing as a bad guy. She just looks like she’s about to cry all the time.” And I have to admit, I don’t disagree. I know they are walking a fine line with this character (just as they are with Jane/Remi), trying to make her evil enough to convince you that she’s turned to the Dark Side, yet still leave the door open for some sort of redemption later. But if I’m honest, it’s not quite working. Even Madeline doesn’t buy it, telling Tasha, “If you’re getting cold feet, I can handle it.” Tasha is obviously not embracing the Super Villain lifestyle. As with Madeline, the problem here is motivation. We’re currently assuming that the CIA set up the phone theft to frame Tasha, then offered her this undercover gig as a way to clear her name and restore her career. And yes, that’s a powerful motivator for Tasha, but ultimately, it’s just a job. Yes, she’s dedicated herself to a career in law enforcement, but there are other things she could be doing to earn a buck. Things that don’t entail killing fellow agents and pointing guns at the man you love. What is keeping her from walking away from this madness? I need to know that it’s something bigger than just her job. Did they threaten Reade’s job too? His life? Her family? The team’s safety?

I am actually hoping that Reade wins this round. One, Tasha won the last round, so it’s his turn. But two, I think Tasha needs an intervention. Whatever trouble she is in, it doesn’t seem to be something that she is willing or able to get herself out of. The longer this goes on, the bigger the hole she digs for herself. She’s already killed a fellow intelligence agent and terrorized a poor tech geek. Next on her agenda is crashing an airplane with who knows how many innocent people aboard. Someone needs to stop her, and Reade might be the only person who can.

Kurt was dealt a pretty massive blow last week, when he discovered that Jane had reverted to Remi. But the news just keeps getting worse for our favorite special agent, doesn’t it?

Y: Kurt Weller isn’t having a great week, is he? This poor boy just goes from one horrible week into another without catching a break.

There is so much to unpack with Kurt in this episode, for starters he has to deal with the Remi running off and how to handle that first situation, and then there’s that inconvenient nuclear threat, on top of that Remi is trying to get Shepherd out of CIA custody, then there’s the revelation that Remi/Jane’s condition is getting worse and finally the information about the potential cure. I don’t know about you, but that is enough to keep me busy for about two years and Kurt has to handle it all in one day.

L: Kurt makes some interesting decisions in this episode. First, to conceal Jane’s reversion to Remi from everyone but Rich and Patterson. We can’t fault his motivation: He knows that working with the team is important to Jane, and he wants her on his team, at work and at home. If the powers that be get wind of her realigned loyalties, I’m not sure they’d be willing to accept the ZIP poisoning explanation, even if she can be “cured.” There is no way they would permit Jane to continue working as an FBI asset and part of their premiere CRIG team. But on the flip side, that’s a lot of secrets to be keeping, from everyone at the FBI, and by the end of the episode, NORAD and the CIA too. Which means that I’m not just worried about Jane’s career now, but Weller is putting his own on the line as well as Patterson and Rich. I am sure that Weller would give up his career in a heartbeat to have his wife back, but there is a good chance that he ends up with neither his wife nor his career at this rate.

But that decision is eclipsed by an even more questionable one he makes later. Patterson uses Roman’s research and enlists the help of a neurobiologist to design a treatment that might re-awaken Remi’s Jane memories. But an earlier trial of the treatment was shut down because a patient died, and Patterson doesn’t hold back when she tells Weller about the risks: There is a good chance that this procedure could kill Remi. Weller doesn’t hesitate. “If there’s even a 1% chance that we can get Jane back, we have to do it,” whether Remi is willing or not. And this is a very interesting parallel to the conversation that Remi has with Shepherd about the risks of the ZIP she was injected with. Shepherd admits that she knew that the ZIP might be fatal. Remi tells her, “If you had told me the truth, I still would’ve gone through with it on my terms. But you robbed me of the chance to make that decision for myself.” Just like Shepherd, Weller wants to rob her of the chance to make this decision for herself. And it also contradicts what he told Remi in the previous episode: “Jane has exactly what you don’t. That’s the choice to be whoever she wants to be.” Choice is supposedly the difference between Jane and Remi. But if Weller takes this choice away from her, the choice to live as Remi or as Jane, then he’s no better than Shepherd in the end. It might be different if this procedure could cure Remi’s ZIP poisoning and save her life, but Patterson makes it clear that it will not. Jane took choice away from Roman when she injected him with ZIP, and ultimately destroyed any chance of having a loving relationship with her brother again. By going ahead with this plan, Weller might be able to bring back Jane’s memories, but he would do so at the expense of her trust and probably his marriage. It will be interesting to see how this plays out.

I also want to talk about how calm and collected Kurt is about the whole imminent-death-by-nuclear-bomb thing. I mean, maybe he’s just used up all his stress on Jane, but he has no reason to doubt the intel he’s received, and he still takes charge of the situation and takes a few precious minutes to calm Rich down. And then immediately calls Jane to tell her he loves her—just in case he doesn’t survive. (And I’m gonna feel some kind of cheated if Jane doesn’t listen to that message at some point, either as Jane or Remi.) And it’s moments like this that remind us why he was the head of the CIRG group at the NYO. He’s a natural leader and completely cool under fire. His wife is dying and has run off to resume her former terrorist lifestyle, he’s facing imminent death from an incoming nuclear warhead, and he’s all, “Take a minute, Rich, and pull yourself together.”

And also, this may be why he’s Remi/Jane’s soulmate. I mean, who else is going to take all the bombs (both literal and figurative) that she lobs at him in stride and just keep going?

Y: Shepherd was not wrong when she said that Jane was tailor-made for Kurt. Honestly, it’s not just Jane as Jane. I think no matter what version of her she is, ultimately those two will always be perfect for each other. I think Shepherd may have always known it somehow and now it’s time for the two of them to realize it.

Back to Kurt’s laundry list of things he had to do this week—one of which by the way, was tumble down a cliff in a car, let’s not forget—I just need to talk about Kurt Weller as acting AD for a moment. How awesome was watching him take charge again? It was so good to see him stand there and lead the FBI, to give out orders and be a leader once again. There was something about that scene that gave me flashbacks to the Pilot episode and also to season two. Kurt has grown so much since then, both as an agent and as a person, and it reflects in how he talks to the team and to his agents. I love Reade as AD, but there is just something special about Kurt Weller in that position. And I do realize that at this point in this review I have voiced my support for four different people taking this position.

But speaking of how much Kurt has changed—thanks mostly to Jane coming into his life—the fact that he takes a moment to tell the team to be careful and then to help Rich calm down just goes to show what a great arc this character has been through and just how he’s a natural leader. His scene with Rich was absolutely precious, especially that it led to that voicemail that, let’s all come clean right now, we’ve all watched over fifty times already and cried every single time. And yes, I will feel cheated if Jane doesn’t hear—whether as Jane or as Remi, I don’t care.

I don’t know how and when this will happen exactly, considering the episode had those two running towards each other with every intention to not embrace, kiss, and make up. So, we’ll wait to see how this plays out—I am so torn between seeing another epic fight between the two or something completely unexpected.

My main concern with Kurt this week is, like L pointed out, the whole “give Jane/Remi the cure no matter what.” That raises so many flags for me, and I was worried they might not address it, but I am glad they did and I am glad that it was Rich who brought it up. Choice has been a huge theme in this show from day one, and we have seen them tackle it repeatedly and in various ways, and especially in this episode and the last. I can understand Kurt’s point of view. No one can fault him for wanting to cure his wife, to save her from dying, to do whatever needs to be done to get her back. And I think at this point, it doesn’t matter if getting her Jane’s memories is an option. Her body and her mind are failing. We need to save her from that before anything else, right? What’s the point of getting her Jane memories back if she only has hours to live anyway? I honestly cannot blame Kurt and I understand his desperation at this point. But this does not mean it will be okay to do any of this without her consent—and once again, thank you Rich for mentioning it.

Kurt said it in the previous episode, the difference between Remi and Jane has been Jane having the freedom to choose, so I really hope that he will not rob Remi of her choice. The parallels with Jane taking Roman’s choice away and Shepherd taking Remi’s choice away and the repercussions are absolutely perfect here, and I want more than anything for them to handle this properly when the time comes.

Remi’s plans to free Shepherd have been all that’s been keeping her going since she got the ZIP poisoning diagnosis. But you know what they say about being careful what you wish for... How does their mother/daughter reunion go?

L: There is no question that Remi’s health takes a turn for the decidedly worse this week. Her headaches are back with a vengeance, as are her hallucinations of Roman. She begins to talk to him in front of other people, unable to remember that he isn’t really there. But her subconscious mind just won’t stop, pointing out that Weller was right, she did fail in her plan.

Y: I loved how they played the deterioration of Remi’s health and how it was portrayed on screen both physically and mentally and how it reflected on her emotionally. She kept getting weaker physically as the episode progressed but more interesting was how her grasp on reality similarly started to fade away. Roman’s return is clearly the strongest evidence of that and watching how she completely crossed the line between what is real and what is not was done really well. And through all that, Remi knows one thing is certain, she is dying, and that she has only thing left to do.

L: She has one final hope of redemption: Freeing Shepherd. But as Remi quickly discovers, sometimes getting what you want doesn’t actually give you what you need. She has been clinging to the thought that “Shepherd will have a plan. She’ll know exactly what to do.” Only Shepherd doesn’t. And that is the worst outcome that Remi could possibly have imagined. She has no one left to take up the cause for which she is literally giving her life, inch by painful inch. Even her paid muscle, Violet, is dead, yet another victim of association with Remi.

Y: That mother-daughter reunion was just awesome and the impact of certain revelations only helped worsen Remi’s condition. Shepherd is not the driven revolutionary she expected her to be. She’s broken and tired and hopeless. She also admitted that she was aware of the fact that the ZIP was going to eventually kill Remi and all the promises in the world about how she had hoped Remi would have returned to her by then could not make things better for Remi. Not only is this another instant in her life characterized by someone taking her choice away from her but in more ways than one, this is a form of abandonment, something that has been a constant in Remi’s life.

L: This is another situation where not having access to Jane’s memories puts Remi at a disadvantage. Remi was trained to resist interrogation, but she has no memory of being held by the CIA. She doesn’t remember what it was like to go through that. And even if she did... Jane was tortured for three months. Shepherd has been in CIA custody for more than two years by now. She is not the same person she was when the FBI arrested her. What we see instead is a broken woman who has given up, the righteous fire that drove her extinguished by prolonged abuse. Even though she’s been rescued, her only ally is someone who might be her daughter or might be the enemy who locked her up, but either way, is definitely losing her mind. I can’t blame Shepherd for wanting to just get away from all of this, find a little of the peace she’s been denied for so long.

I must admit that I am still mildly amused that death metal is part of CIA torture. Although maybe that depends on the prisoner? Do other prisoners get elevator music? Or static-y hold music, interrupted by advertisements?

Y: Well, I would have voted for elevator music, or maybe the endless holiday mall jingles? Don’t get me wrong, they’re great, but why do they now start in October? Isn’t that slightly overkill?

L: October? They’ve got decorations on display by the start of September! But I think you might be on to something. It must be a CIA plot. I’ll tell them anything to make them stop!

I am excited to have Shepherd back again. She was such a satisfying villain because she was so calculating and rational about achieving her goals. It is interesting to compare her to Madeline, who is almost her polar opposite, crazy where Shepherd was sane, over the top where Shepherd was pragmatic, driven by revenge versus driven by a misguided sense of protecting the public. It will be interesting to see what Shepherd does next. She seems to rally and get with the program after Remi’s little tough love talk, but she still seems a far cry from the ultra-villain we saw in season two. (And that scene was amazing. Jaimie Alexander has done an incredible job portraying the Remi/Jane dichotomy this season, but this scene might be her best yet.) Somehow I doubt that Shepherd is going to become the leader that Remi expects her to. I can’t help but wonder if Shepherd will ultimately die this season, too, effectively destroying Remi’s last tie to her past.

I really love the role reversal we see between Shepherd and Remi in this scene. In the scenes we saw from earlier in Remi’s life, she was a little more than a tool wielded by Shepherd. Shepherd had a goal, and Remi was simply a piece of that plan. Shepherd used her, expected Remi to do what was asked of her, regardless of what Remi might really have wanted. So instead of marrying her fiancé, Remi had her memory erased and was delivered to another man. But in this scene, we see a tired, faded Shepherd who just wants to run away and find somewhere she can live in peace, and a Remi with no sympathy for her, totally focused only on what she wants to accomplish. She is her mother’s daughter, as Kurt said, exactly what her mother made her to be.

Shepherd tells Remi that Roman was looking into the work of someone named Kallisto. But the last time Shepherd saw Roman was in the brief window between retrieving him from the FBI lockup and her arrest in the wake of Phase Two, more than two years ago. Long before Roman launched his plans to punish Jane and bring down Crawford, probably before Roman even showed any signs of ZIP poisoning himself. In other words, this is seriously old intel, almost certainly superseded by whatever information was on the drives Roman hid. If Remi has to choose between whatever information she and Shepherd can dig up and whatever the FBI can find, she is clearly choosing the harder path by sticking with Shepherd.

Y: But back to Remi/Jane, I have a confession to make here. You’d think since it has taken us so long to get this review done—which I admit is 93% my fault—that we’d have some deep analysis to share with you, but the longer it has taken me to get this done, the harder it has become to put my thoughts on Remi/Jane down. There is just so much here to discuss and to talk about. The seven episodes leading up to this have been huge, monumental even, in Remi/Jane’s journey. It has put her through so much, unraveled so much for her and for us, and given us so much to work with and unwrap about her journey, her mental state, her emotional state, etc.…

We have touched upon so many themes and topics that have been an integral part of Jane’s story from day one in the first half of the season and I just feel like to truly grasp it and give it justice we need to take a step back and dissect it one by one. There has just been so much to take in, it sometimes feels a little overwhelming. We’ve seen Remi confront demons from her past such as abandonment, being dispensable and having her free will taken from her. We have seen her have to confront the life Jane has been living in which she has everything that Remi never had. We’ve seen her have to face her own mortality, to stand face to face with people who represents two completely opposite sides of any spectrum in Shepherd and Kurt, and we have seen her have to confess to her own failures.

Honestly, looking back, I just cannot believe it has only been eight episodes and all this has happened. I don’t know how things will go forward from here but I think this has been the most exciting stretch of episodes for Remi/Jane, the most challenging, the most telling and the most revealing. Whatever happens from here on, one thing is for sure, nothing is ever going to be the same for her and she is never going to be the same again. She can’t go back to being the old Remi, and she can’t go back to being the old Jane. Whoever comes out of this ordeal is going to have to be a new person who rises like a phoenix from the ashes of both women.

And I cannot wait to see Jaimie Alexander shine as she portrays all of this.

And finally... Jeller. For a couple that doesn’t even talk to each other until the final moments of the episode, they still manage to have a massive impact on one another. Is there any hope left for our favorite couple?

L: Well, Tasha and Reade are pointing guns at each other, so Kurt and Remi running toward each other for hand-to-hand combat is maybe slightly better? I’m not going to lie, I loved the fight scene between Kurt and Jane at the start of season two, so I am kind of excited about this development. And I think it’s going to be a pretty even match: Remi has an advantage because Kurt won’t want to hurt her, but as we saw in this episode, Remi’s health is declining rapidly, which gives Kurt an advantage.

But as we’ve seen both Kurt and Remi acknowledge, this fight isn’t really Remi versus Kurt. It’s really more Remi versus her Jane self. Kurt merely represents everything that Remi is fighting: Her failed mission that took away everyone she cared about; a government that betrayed her; and a life as Jane that gave her all the things she wasn’t supposed to want out of life. Remi gave up her chance at a marriage, a family, a normal life, even a normal life expectancy when she was injected with ZIP. Jane had all of those things: A loving husband, a family with a daughter and a step-daughter, an extended family of close friends, a rewarding career that gave her purpose. Remi has just begun to realize everything that she had as Jane, and part of her is angry that she would want it. But she does want it. That’s why she couldn’t kill Weller. If her ZIP poisoning hadn’t given her the urgency to set her plans in motion, she might have been tempted to stay in that pretend life for even longer. And the fact that Jane’s life was tempting to her is what makes her so angry.

I’m excited to see what happens next, especially how Remi deals with a Weller who still refuses to see her as his enemy.

Y: One thing we’ve learned on this show is never ever give up on Jeller. And that every time we find ourselves in a place where things cannot look more bleak, we come out of it stronger and eventually realize that part of the journey was necessary to take them to this next level of their relationship where they are better and closer. Watching Remi hate Jane’s life but also envy it at the same time has been great but more so has been watching how these two, no matter what they are going through or what version of her identity Jane is, that they will always gravitate towards one another, how they will blindly trust each other and how they will always protect and save one another. That is why Remi could not take Kurt out even though she has had many opportunities to do so and she might not admit it yet, but she has grown to care for him, not just as a residual of Jane’s feelings for him, but as Remi. If she had enough time, she would definitely have fallen for him as hard as Jane fell for Kurt.

I’m just as excited to see what happens next. I’m confident that these two are endgame and will always end up back together, but what makes them fun and one of the most exciting ships I’ve ever shipped is that every season is a new journey and a new adventure to find their way back to each other. Because that’s just the way they are. They’re inevitable.

How are you holding up after that massive cliffhanger ending? Did you have enough chocolate? Do you have any advice for surviving the next two weeks without Blindspot? Please, share your secrets with us! We’ll be here, probably curled up in the fetal position, until then!

—Laura & Yas

#blindspot #blindspot: episode review #character: kurt weller #character: jane doe #character: edgar reade #character: tasha zapata #character: patterson #character: rich dotcom #character: boston arliss crab #character: matthew weitz #character: madeline burke #character: Shepherd #ship: Jane/Kurt #ship: tasha/reade

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

FANFICTION.NET

TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 03: LET SLEEPING GODS LIE

QUEST SUMMARY:

Jahaan stumbles upon a newly excavated chamber, one that a charismatic young stranger claims to be where Guthix resides under the earth. However, once this knowledge becomes commonplace, many different factions come to a head, either to protect the sleeping god, wake him, or destroy him...

CHAPTER 1: TEMPLE DESECRATED

Like Ozan, Jahaan took a ship to Catherby in order to avoid traversing the dangerous mountains that separated the two kingdoms - Asgarnia, housing Falador, and Kandarin, where Catherby and the Legends’ Guild were located. Catherby was the largest fishing village in Gielinor, home to some of the greatest fishermen in the land. The crisp, clear blue waters of the beach were home to vast amounts of different fish, all plentiful, all delicious to eat or, for those so inclined, profitable to sell. Glorious gold-plated ships were docked in the ports, side by side to the numerous fishing trawlers that strayed further from the shores to catch their supplies of fish. On his way to Burthorpe, Jahaan had spent close to a month on its soft, golden beach, loving the feeling of the slightly damp sand from the retreating tide between his toes. As it was summer when he visited last, the warm evenings allowed him to sleep under a blanket of stars and spend his days among the company of other fisherman, enjoying the past-time together. He made a fair bit of money that summer, selling what he didn’t eat to the local fishmongers. A part of him was tempted to stay there longer, almost indefinitely, to save up enough to rent out a small room in an inn, or maybe even buy a residence of his own. For a while he felt he could quite happily live out his life with lazy days of fishing, but he soon realised he was only kidding himself, and the serenity began to grate on him. With little more than his memories to keep him company, Jahaan became increasingly restless, the remnants of guilt from his first encounter with Lucien eating away at the edges of his sanity. Therefore, decisions were made, and he left Catherby for the Imperial Guard. Being back, however, brought with it some blissful memories, especially when that salty sea air slipped through his nose and hit his lungs. With a sad smile, he traced his fingers lightly over the armour at his wrist. His eyes gazed into the far off horizon, a watercolour of blue and pink, blending the sky together in a picturesque portrait only his eyes could capture.

Taking a seat on the sands, Jahaan removed his chestplate and started to work out the kinks in his back.

I think I’ll catch some fish, build a fire, and settle down here for the night…

It ended up being just under a week when Jahaan finally continued his journey, leaving Catherby behind him as he set out for the Legends’ Guild. The Guild wasn’t too far from Catherby, but it was still a two-day journey. Following the coastline took Jahaan a little longer than going direct would, but it allowed him easy access to fresh food and clean water. A night’s camp by the shore was never a bad thing in his eyes, and the day after, with a brisk pace, he made it to the Legends’ Guild by the afternoon.

The grasslands around it were dotted with pleasant little flowers, and trees of many different varieties lined the way. From oaks, to yews, and even an elder - firewood is never an issue on this path. Or, for the most ambitious, elder logs fetched a high price in the right market.

He saw about a dozen woodcutters making the most of the opportunity.

One thing that did puzzle Jahaan though - there was a large crater dug not too far from the entrance of the Legends’ Guild.

Weird… that wasn’t here last time I came through this way. Are they digging a new quarry or something?

Shrugging, Jahaan let it slide as he squared up his shoulders and strode up to the entrance to the Legends’ Guild.

As soon as he got close, the burly guard at the gate locked suspicious eyes on him; he tugged on the leash that pulled his dog into view, who maddly started barking at Jahaan and launching himself at the gate, as if he was starved and Jahaan was the only meat he’d seen in a week.

Cautiously, Jahaan slowed his approach. “Um, h-hello…”

“What’s your business here, stranger?” the guard demanded.

Wondering what he did to offend the gentlemen, Jahaan hurried to pull the letter from his backpack and held at out at arms length to the guard, slowly edging closer to the gate with his eyes fixated on the angry canine.. “Um, I have a letter from Sir Tiffy?”

It wasn’t a question, but that was the most pacifistic way he could voice the phrase. He’d already been almost eaten alive by one dog in recent memory - he didn’t want to make it two.

Snatching the letter from his hand, the guard examined the seal closely. Gruffly, he told Jahaan to wait there while he left go inside the Guild. The dog remained, teeth baring, eyes deadly.

Managing a weak smile, Jahaan whispered, “W-Who’s a good boy…?”

It did not have the desired effect.

Five terrifying minutes later, the guard returned to his post. Grabbing onto the dogs leash, he pulled him out of the way as he heaved the metal gates open, saying nothing as he let Jahaan pass.

Sending a smug look at the canine over his shoulder, he marched past the beautifully trimmed hedges and into the Guild.

As soon as he entered, an older gentleman with a long white beard and a full set of rune armour met him inside the doorway.

“Welcome,” the man warmly greeted. “My name is Radimus Erkle. I’m the grand vizier to this fine establishment. I apologise on behalf of Steven - he’s new here. I keep telling him to loosen up, but will he listen?”

Radimus laughed, and Jahaan followed by chuckling nervously.

Luckily, Radimus continued the conversation before the silence became awkward. “I read your note from Sir Tiffy. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut. Am I saying that right?”

Confirming he was, Jahaan held out his hand to shake. “An honour to meet you too, Sir Erkle.”

“Oh, I’m no knight - just an old man who loves an adventure. Now, Sir Tiffy sent you here for a reason. Come this way…”

Through a large oak door and two grand hallways, the pair came to a marble staircase, surrounded on all sides by portraits of adventurers of old, famous ones that Jahaan had only ever heard about in campfire tales.

Motioning downwards, Erkle handed Jahaan back the note and said, “Give this to Fionella and she’ll take care of you. It’s only one floor down. Whatever you do, DON’T go down to the second floor.”

“O-Okay,” Jahaan, still quite frankly baffled by it all, carefully made his way down the stairs. The darkness started to increase the further he descended, but fortunately candlesticks were dotted around to guide the way. He made it to the right floor, a quiet hallway with a handful of quaint little doors on either side, and one at the end that was helpfully labelled ‘Fionella’s’.

Jahaan started to edge out of the stairwell, but then hesitated. Looking over his shoulder, then quickly all around him, he slinked back into the stairwell and, as quietly as he could, tiptoed down to the basement floor. A gloved hand made for the door handle...

A roar, so furious and ungodly it chilled Jahaan to the core. The sounds of sword meeting flesh, clashing with armour. A fall, a dive - who knows!

A hand tentatively hovered over the handle of his sword as he toyed with the idea of investigating further, against all sense and reason. That idea was stopped dead in his tracks by a hand on his shoulder, causing Jahaan to swing around in shock.

An unimpressed Radimus motioned to the staircase. “This floor is off limits. It’s only for the most worthy of legends.”

Guiltily, Jahaan hung his head and trudged back up the staircase, feeling like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

Radimus pointed to the far end of the hallway, watching with a hawk-like glare to make sure Jahaan didn’t deviate from his course again.

After knocking on the door twice, a call came from the other side. “Come on in.”

The dismal looking room was nothing too spectacular. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this… no, this looked like your average storage room. A few chairs were lazily placed at the back of the room, while a dusty wooden desk separated Fionella from her guests. Behind the brunette were a large amount of tattered crates and cardboard boxes, victims to time and age. Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes, she asked, “Can I help you?”

Uncrumpling the note, Jahaan handed it to her. “Uh, yeah… I was told by Sir Tiffy to come to you with this.”

Adjusting her glasses, Fionella squinted at the handwriting. Occasionally, she glanced up at Jahaan before returning to the note. Sometimes she looked confused, sometimes impressed, and once she even laughed. Utterly confused, Jahaan resisted the urge to ask her to elaborate any further.

Shrugging, she screwed the note up and tossed it behind her. Jahaan held out a hand, opening his mouth to protest, but Fionella cut him off, saying, “Wait here.”

Leaving his mouth hung agape, he did as he was told. At this point, he was just resigned to whatever came next.

A couple of minutes and a large clattering later, Fionella emerged from behind a load of crates and boxes with a two long, thin crates of her own. Heaving it up on the table, she wiped the sweat from her brow and muttered, “I really need to build up my strength…”

She peered around the obstruction and drearily announced to Jahaan, “These are yours, courtesy of Sir Tiffy and the Legends’ Guild. Enjoy.”

Jahaan looked at the box, then regarded Fionella, hesitantly.

“What are you waiting for, Saradomin’s return?” she chided, ushering him to take the boxes from her. Sliding them into his arms, he thanked the young woman and staggered out into the hallway to unbox these ‘gifts’.

When he pried them open, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

The first crate held two rune swords, unscathed and unparalleled in their craftsmanship, with a double-sheathed belt. They put his second-hand scimitar to shame. Carefully, he put the belt on and tucked them into their sheaths, feeling like the most powerful man in Gielinor. Weaponry really shouldn’t give anyone such a rush, but man, Jahaan felt like he was ten feet tall. In truth, he was never a fan of scimitars - they were an odd shape, and Jahaan awkwardly found himself slicing too far from his target as he misjudged the curvature of the blade. He noted that Sir Tiffy hadn’t provided him a shield, and wondered if that was intentional or not. After all, during the battle, his shield spent half the time on the ground. Kiteshields were so damn cumbersome when fighting human-like enemies. Trolls were one thing, and yes, when he managed to utilise it in time, it helped to protect him against the ice giants. However, Jahaan had always favoured speed and agility - why take the brunt of an attack when you have the ability to dodge out of the way entirely?

In the other crate was a yew shieldbow with about two dozen rune-tipped arrows and a leather quiver. Now, he wasn’t a bad archer, but he was no Ozan. At least now I have a reason to practice, he thought to himself as he repositioned the bow over his shoulders and adjusted the quiver

It was when he made it about twenty feet from the gates, the angry dog and grumpy guard in his wake, that he didn’t know what to do next. On his way out, he’d asked Radimus if Ozan had passed through, to which he replied that he left with Ariane two days ago, the pair making towards East Ardougne. Deciding that was a good a place as any to start, Jahaan thought he’d try and catch them before they moved on again.

“Hey mate, hol’ up!” a voice called out. When Jahaan turned around, he saw a sprightly young man chasing after him. Once he made it close enough, Jahaan noted the man sported a black feathered hat and an unshaven face. His clothing was just as unkempt as his facial hair, and from the bags around his eyes, it was easy to deduce that the man didn’t quite understand the concept of a proper night’s sleep.

“Can I help you?” Jahaan inquired, smiling amusedly at the poor man that was now doubled over, trying to catch his breath. The young man signalled for him to be given a minute’s respite.

“Whoa nelly,” he exhaled, deeply. “I really need to get in shape, yes I do. I can dig and dig and dig, but nope, runnin’ takes it right out of me, yes it does.”

Jahaan motioned over to the large pit the man had emerged from. “Don’t tell me you dug that all by yourself.”

“Why, yes sir, yes I did! Lost me some five good shovels. But it’ll be worth it when the museum sees what I bring ‘em, yes it will!”

“You work for the museum in Varrock?”

The man nodded eagerly. “Jus’ an apprentice for now, but oh boy, when they see what I’ve got! Oh boy! They’s always laughing at me, you see, for chasin’ this ‘dream’, they call it. They say I’m not ‘museum material’, but they just don’t get it! I here think I’ve just stumbled on one o’ the biggest historical discoveries of all time, yes I have!”

This peaked Jahaan’s interest. “What do you reckon you’ve found?”

“Something game-changin’!” The man cheered, clapping his hands together. “I reckon this is got something to do with Guthix himself! I’ve been studyin’ the area for so long, and I got me some help from those druids in Taverley, and they can vouch for this here energy that be coming from that hole. I uncovered a door an’ everything! Come look!”

Unable to resist the curiosity, Jahaan tagged along as the man bounded over to the substantial hole he’d dug for himself. True to his word, an ancient stone door had been uncovered, with leaf-like patterns carved into the frame.

He couldn’t help but be impressed. “Very nice. So, what’s inside?”

This is where the man’s enthusiasm skipped a beat, and a large frown overwhelmed his features. “That’s the thing, I haven’t gone through yet. I’ve been trying to open the door for ages, yes I have, but it ain’t no use. Maybe I just haven’t got the muscles, y’know?”

“So, you want me to help you open the door?”

“That, and more, if you’re up for it. Ya see, I ain’t no adventurer like yourself. You gotta take into account all the usual dangers of openin’ up ancient tunnels… traps, boulders, cave spiders, undead monsters… I thought it might be best if I’d get someone from the Legends’ Guild to lend a hand, y’know? And I see YOU walking out, Mr Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut!”

Jahaan crinkled his brow. “You know me?”

“Why, of course!” the man beamed. “Word travels around these parts, yes sir! You're one of Sir Tiffy's men! He only bothers around with the best, you know.”

Jahaan smiled, feeling his ego get a little cuddle. If this man planned on charming him into helping, he was doing a good job. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh!” the man held out his hand, then quickly withdrew it to wipe some soil off his palm, before offering it again. “Name’s Orlando. Orlando Smith. So, you in?”

Grinning, Jahaan seized the man’s hand. “Sure!”

“FANTASTIC!” Orlando looked like he was going to explode with glee. He practically leapt down into the hole with Jahaan in tow. When he placed his hand on the crevice acting as the door’s handle, Jahaan noted how warm it felt to the touch, almost hot, and it vibrated ever so slightly upon contact. Much to the surprise of Jahaan, and the awe of Orlando, the former managed to heave the stone door open without throwing his back out in the process. Orlando lit a couple of torches, handing one to Jahaan, before they both stepped inside, Jahaan apprehensively, but it seemed if Orlando had abandoned all previous reservations as he skipped into the cave.

“This is it! By golly, this is it! Oh boy, the museum’s gonna be so chuffed with me! We gotta take something back with us. Ooo but we can’t disturb anything… aww shucks… Still, this is incredible, yes it is!”

Inside, the stone walls were covered in carvings, floor to ceiling. Much of it was a strange language Jahaan did not understand, but Orlando said it looked familiar to him. The rest were drawings, figures etched in time into the stone. Many of the figures had been engulfed by the plant growth, but among the visible carvings, Jahaan recognized the snake, Juna, Guardian of the Tears of Guthix, alongside a giant insect. It seemed Guthix held them in high regard.

In the corner of the room was what appeared to be an inactive soul obelisk, yet when leaning in closer, Jahaan noted a faint hum could still be heard coming from it. Scattered on the floor next to it were broken remnants of vials, perhaps from the early days of herblore. The odd scrap of withered herb could be seen in amongst the shattered glass.

“Hey Jahaan, take a look at this,” Orlando urged, ushering Jahaan towards a cracked plinth. Atop it laid the remains of a blade, still emitting sparks. Pieces were undoubtedly missing, rendering it irreparable, even if it was safe to touch.

With a furrowed brow, Orlando muttered, “How strange. What we know of Guthix indicates he was a pacifist; completely against violence, yes he was. The sword looks like it has been recovered, and for it to be placed in such a prominent position... there are so many things we could learn! Still, my mother warned me against touchin’ glowin’ weapons of the gods, yes she did, so let’s leave that one be for a while…”

The two continued to examine the ruin, Orlando marvelling at every little thing he saw. After a while, he called Jahaan over again, remarking, “This here wall don’t match the other walls, no sir. I think there might be somethin’ beyond here.”

Pulling off some of the plant life that had been residing on the obscure looking wall, Jahaan marvelled at the intricate patterns carved into the stone, far more detailed than anything else inside the temple. Somewhat awe-struck, he couldn’t help but trace his finger across them. Alas, he was broken from his relaxing activity when the door creaking open by itself. The next room opened out in front of them, the walls similar to the last, but this time grass covered the floor, somehow alive despite the darkness. Six statues holding torches were dotted across the room, automatically lighting themselves once they sensed the presence of intruders. Orlando didn’t even get to marvel at his surroundings before a loud groan emanated from the far wall, startling him, and a shrill alarm pierced through the air.

Suddenly, three rock-like beasts prised themselves from the walls, each looking like fractured pieces of stone held together by tree bark. In place of an eye, they had the symbol of Guthix, and each was glowing a different colour. One red, one green, and one blue.

Hesitantly, Jahaan drew one of his swords from his belt. “Orlando, stay behind me.”

“WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform detected. Mahjarrat will not be allowed passage. Retreat before further action,” the creatures ordered in unison. Their voices were bellowing and husky, fitting for their imposing stature.

“But we’re not Mahjarrat!” Jahaan cried, desperately, retreating back a few steps as the beasts advanced on him.

This proved futile as the creatures repeated, “WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform detected. Mahjarrat will not be allowed passage. Retreat before further action.”

Jahaan steadied his grip on his sword, glaring at Orlando out of the corner of his eye as the man cowered behind him. “Orlando, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No! We're humans, we are!” Orlando maintained, a whimper in his cracking voice. “Please, we mean you no harm! They must be malfunctioning or somethin’ I tell ya!”

“ESCALATED WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform remains. The threat will be eliminated. Retreat before further action.”

“Orlando, get back into the other room,” Jahaan warned, his eyes narrowing on the automatons that continued to creep up on him.

Desperately, Orlando pleaded, “Please, listen to us! We’re peaceful, I tell ya!”

“WARNING INEFFECTIVE. ACTION: Mahjarrat lifeform remains. Prepare for elimination.”

Jahaan’s eyes grew wide as one of the eyes of the beasts started glowing. “They aren’t peaceful. Get down!”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

Previous chapter / Next chapter

#runescape #sliske #fiction #fan fiction #the world wakes

[just-come-baek]

Chills, Scares, and Cold Sweat

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. a pinch of platonic Yoonmin and implied Kryber

Themes: smut | angst | haunted house!au

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Ghosts and demons don’t exist, so how bad can it really get? In the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies. Taehyung’s words, not mine.

Warnings: late BTS Halloween special! Scary! (Not really) Backseat smut!

Masterlist

Okay, chill, you got this, I delivered myself a mental pep talk, as I stood in front of the house, my grip tightened around the suitcase handle, head high. The sun had already descended behind the horizon, grey skies casting a spine-chilling aura, the thick fog only intensifying the effect, putting everyone into long-awaited Halloween's mood.

The last days of October are just like that; everyone is hyped about Halloween, preparing slutty costumes, throwing amazing, unforgettable parties, trick-or-treating, and, obviously, scaring the shit out of friends, sometimes even posting the horrendous pranks online.

This year, though, my Halloween was going to be different. Not necessarily better, but definitely not like all the previous ones. I mean... it's not an everyday occurrence to participate in a paranormal experiment. Or in other words, being locked up in a supposedly haunted house for a couple of days. Thankfully, they pay quite handsomely, and I seriously need this money.

What's the worst that could happen?

It's not like demons or ghosts or other spooky creations exist.

That’s what I call; easy money.

With lips pressed together in a thin line, back straightened, I made a confident step toward the house; only to shriek a second later when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Instantly, I turned around, my hands raised in a defensive manner, ready to attack whoever dared to touch and frighten me out of wits.

“Your backpack is so cute,” stated the man around my age, beaming, his boxy smile making everything brighter. “It has those cute kitten ears,” he added, his hands stretched, as if he wanted to touch it, “utterly cute.”

“Don’t sneak up on people like that,” I preached, my palm firmly pressed against my rib cage, my heart beating rapidly, as he almost put me through a severe heart attack. “Anyway,” I started dismissively, “are you participating in the, hmm... project as well?”

Smiling down at me from under his hood, he nodded, “of course, I’m Taehyung, and you are?” he introduced himself, his arm outstretched, so I could shake hands with him. Quickly, I greeted him and gave him my name, his wide beam never fading. “It’s gonna be so much fun, isn’t it?”

“It depends on what you’re into,” I promptly replied, giving him a faint smile, “if you like being conned and pranked, since this ‘experiment‘,” I didn’t hesitate to draw a quotation marks in the air with my fingers, “is obviously some kind of a sick hoax taken to a completely different level then yes, it’s gonna be a blast,” I grinned innocently, studying his expression.

“Oh,” he pouted slightly, “so you’re a disbeliever. Interesting,” Taehyung spoke, and I could feel his glance on me, as he looked at me from head to toe.

“What about you? Do you seriously believe in all of that crap?” I asked, my eyebrow cocked upwards, as I impatiently anticipated his reply. He’s something; if he really thinks that horror monsters are real, it’ll surely be interesting. “I mean... whatever is gonna pop out of nowhere must be staged.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen; in the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies.” Taehyung replied, shooting me another smile, as he rubbed his hands in excitement. “We probably should get inside, I think we’re late.”

“Right,” I agreed, and Taehyung quickly grabbed my suitcase, “thanks.”

The porch squeaked the moment we stepped on it; from the outside the house looked terrible, only still in one piece due to a magical spell cast upon it; maybe even a curse, given the particular time of a year and sinister atmosphere around. From the inside, it didn't present any better.

“Finally,” a voice said as Taehyung grabbed the knob and pushed the doors wide open, a loud creak announcing our arrival. Slowly, he looked from above his tablet, his lips arched into a polite smile, his dimples on full display. “I started to think that you guys ditched,” he added, clearly glad that he was mistaken.

“Are you kidding me? Pass on such a sweet deal? Never,” I quickly assured him, as I accepted his hand shake when he greeted us, “nice to meet you, too, Namjoon.”

“Okay, before we start anything, you both have to sign this up,” Namjoon announced, showing us the terms of the agreement which were roughly thirty pages long, “basically, it states that we can record anything that happens here, and use it for further research. Also, we do not take any responsibility for any damage caused during your stay.”

Taehyung scrolled through the pages, his eyes moving quickly from left to right as he quickly skimmed the text, reading one every five words.

“Sounds legit,” he commented, as he looked at Namjoon, “where do I sign?”

“Just draw your signature with your finger at the bottom of the page,” Namjoon instructed Taehyung, the latter leaving an illegible squiggle under the date.

“Are you for real?” I asked, still unable to process what Taehyung just did. Did he seriously endorse the contract without thoroughly reading it first? Is he that reckless and irresponsible? For all we know, they could have a permit to legally harvest his organs, or worse.

“Don’t worry, there isn’t anything funny, it’s a routine procedure.” Namjoon reassured me, his arm outstretched toward me, the blank space at the bottom of the page waiting to be signed.

“Fuck it, let’s do it,” I replied casually before I left my signature in the right place. Right now, I seriously needed this money, even if the contract consisted of something I was against, it’s not like Namjoon had time to renegotiate the terms with me; it’s either all or nothing, and I really didn't want to leave empty-handed.

“Okay,” Namjoon locked his tablet, “since we got this covered, you guys must want a short tour around the house,” he simply stated, mentioning for us to follow him and carefully listen to him. Taehyung and I looked at each other, and he let me go first, as he slowly trailed behind me.

The reconnaissance was quite short; Namjoon showed us round the house and introduced us to the four fellow housemates. At the very end of the tour, he led us down the corridor, telling which room was whose. Mine happened to be across from Taehyung’s, squeezed between Jimin’s and Amber’s.

“I should get going,” Namjoon stated, as he glimpsed at his smart-watch, “shit, I’m late,” he added, his eyes roaming around the house as if he was in a panic. “Anyway, see you all on Wednesday.”

"What took you so long?" Taehyung asked as I walked downstairs to the living room. "And here I thought a ghost already ate your disbelieving ass," he snickered, and I immediately stuck out my tongue at him before I politely bowed at the rest and sat on the couch beside Taehyung since he's the one I was the most familiar with; Namjoon had introduced them to me, yet their names slipped my mind almost as soon as I heard them.

"Yeah, totally," I deadpanned, slightly jabbing Taehyung's side; that boy had it coming, why did he look so astonished? "Anyway, I have a treat for all of you," I started, as I placed a plastic bag filled with Chinese fortune cookies.

"Did you rob a Chinese restaurant on your way here?" A man with golden, fluffy hair smiled and reached for the ziplock bag, taking a cookie.

"No, but it's a funny story, actually." I started, obtaining his attention before he managed to crack the cookie and read whatever wisdom was inked inside. "I used to write quotes for the fortune cookies; the manager wanted them to be original and I kind of got carried away. In the end, I got fired."

"What does it say?" Taehyung asked, wondering what could be written there, as he couldn't imagine what kind of sentence could anger the manager to the point of wanting to sack me. "Come on, Jimin, read it out loud!" He encouraged, when the man scanned the piece of paper, his eyes squinted, trying to decipher the message in a tiny font.

"Oh my God, this is gold," Jimin declared, as he strived to refrain himself from ugly-laughing. "You will die alone and poorly dressed," Jimin read, and Taehyung almost choked when he heard the fortune. "Geez, thanks, that's exactly what I wanted to get."

"She must really possess some kind of power, I mean... what are those?" Taehyung asked angrily, as he pointed at Jimin's hideous sneakers. Everyone laughed at Taehyung's remark, and Jimin stuck his tongue out, acting calm and collected, although he couldn't understand the criticism; they were incredibly comfortable, who really cared that they were last season?

"I want one, too." A woman in boyish clothing interjected Taehyung before he got to diss Jimin more, and reached for the bag, eager to read her fortune. "Life is a symphony, and you are playing the kazoo," she read out loud, "why would anyone fire you for that? This is ridiculous; if anything, you should get a raise!"

Later that night, we're still chilling in the living room; demonic presence never making oneself known. It was just a simple get-together; six people in their twenties, a bag of delicious unfortunate cookies and a bottle of rum passed among them.

"Okay, let's lay our cards on the table," Taehyung started casually, wriggling on the couch beside me, brushing his thighs against mine all the time. "What made you guys take part in this? You go first Jimin," he asked with curiosity, his body leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs, waiting for the reply patiently, his eyes fixated on Jimin.

"The girl I have a crush on just got together with my friend, and I didn't feel like third-wheeling them, especially when they're in that honeymoon phase," Jimin stated, gladly accepting the bottle of alcohol Yoongi offered him. It wasn't easy for him, but hopefully participating in this experiment would take it off his mind. "Fuck couples," he added, and raised the bottle, taking another gulp.

"Salute to that!" I cheered, smiling at Jimin, completely supporting his views on relationships. It was solely envy speaking, but yeah, fuck couples!

"What about you Amber?" Taehyung inquired, as he looked at the girl, the bottle of alcohol in her hands.

"Actually, I'm just tagging along. Krystal wanted to go, because she thought her Instagram followers would love it, and I'm just accompanying her."

"That's true," Krystal suddenly interjected, tearing her eyes off the screen, "and they just love it," she added, every word just beautifully rolling off her tongue, "by the end of the experiment, the number of my followers will at least double."

Taehyung nodded his head, registering all the new information about other participants. "Yoongi?"

"Boredom, I guess." Yoongi answered dismissively, drinking alcohol as if it was water. "Also, I've been told I am dead inside, so hopefully, this near-death experience will stir some emotions within me." He added, placing an empty bottle on the carpet, "have any of you brought booze?" He asked, looking at fellow participants, hoping he wasn't the only one who had thought about getting wasted.

"I have," I quickly replied, unconsciously raising my hand as if I was still in high school, "but it's clear vodka, and I don't think we should drink it straight from the bottle," I added, and everyone except Yoongi agreed with me with a simple nod.

"I'll grab the cups and some juice, and you go get the alcohol," Taehyung proposed, and quickly, we stood up and went our separate ways to get what all of us needed. Within two minutes, we got back to the living room; swiftly pouring the drinks, each different with accordance to one's request.

"What about you, kitten?" Taehyung carried on, his gaze fixated on me, our cups clinking in a simple toast. Refraining myself from cringing at the nickname he had given me, I smiled at him and cleared my throat.

"I want to throw an amazing birthday party, and invite all of my friends, but I don't have money, so I signed up for this." I sincerely confessed, all of them staring at me, since mine reason must've been the most trivial one. "What about you, huh?" I boldly asked Taehyung, alcohol in my system giving me confidence and courage.

"What about me?" Taehyung questioned stupidly, grinning at me like an idiot, "Aww, look at your blush, is it me, or the alcohol?"

"Alcohol, definitely alcohol," I answered immediately, being perfectly aware that my cheeks turned scarlet red whenever I was drinking. I was attracted to Taehyung, but it didn't have anything to do with my blush at the moment; it was solely alcohol. "What about you? Are you avoiding my question?"

"I'm not, I just like teasing you," Taehyung stated, leaning forward, and I automatically lay back a little. He surprised me with all the attention he gave me, but I just didn't want to openly flirt with Taehyung in front of everyone. I hated PDA, and even Taehyung's handsome being wouldn't change that. "But to answer your question, I guess I joined the experiment because I felt like it?" Taehyung said, yet his statement came out as a question, almost as if he didn't know how to explain his decision. "I mean... I thought it'd be cool to try something new."

"Okay, since we've already established why we're here, why don't we get drunk?" Jimin spoke, trying to change the subject for which I was much than simply glad, considering the way Taehyung stared at me, waiting for a perfect moment to strike again with his playful remarks.

"Finally!" Yoongi cheered, as he reached for his cup and a fortune cookie. "You are all going to die here," Yoongi read the sentence with furrowed eyebrows, and I almost choked on my drink in horror; I didn't particularly memorise all the quotes, but I was certain that I hadn't written that. "Spooky."

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asked in concern, as he hit my back gently, evidently worried about me, yet intrigued by my reaction. "What's the matter?"

"It wasn't funny, Yoongi," I reprimanded the man, obviously not amused by his prank.

"I don't understand," Yoongi replied, his eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner, as he had no clue what made me act the way I did. "What wasn't funny?"

"The note," I quickly said, pointing my finger at the piece of paper lying on the coffee table, "I didn't write that."

"Who did, then?" He challenged, and I immediately reached for the note, eager to see what was written there. Yoongi's prank wasn't humorous, not even the tiniest bit. Quickly, I flipped the note in my hands, squinting my eyes as I tried to read it in my tipsy state. What threw me off first was the font; the one I held in my hands was hand-written, whereas the ones I had written were not. Someone was messing with me, yet I couldn't really tell who. It had to be one of the fellow participants, it couldn't be a ghost, obviously.

"You guys are the worst," I whined, crumpling the note in my hands, not giving them the satisfaction; they tried to prank me, but it failed.

Around two a.m. we called it a night. Unfortunately, when I got to my room, I didn't feel the tiniest bit tired, my eyes were wide open, not even a single yawn leaving my mouth. Perhaps, it was alcohol that they had poured me, or the cruel prank that affected me much more than I originally thought; either way, I wasn't feeling exhausted, anticipated dream way beyond my reach.

Having kicked off my shoes, I jumped on the bed, sitting up, my back pressed against the headboard. Quickly, I unlocked my phone, keen on reading whatever I had missed during the day. Slowly, I scrolled down the content, either liking or reblogging everything that caught my attention, or made me smile. It didn't keep me busy for long, though.

"Eh," I murmured to myself, as I rolled down, lying on the sheets. The brightness of my phone was blinding me, although it was set the darkest as it was possible. Thankfully, there was a working lamp on the nightstand, which engulfed the room with tangerine, weak light.

Suddenly, I felt cold; it lasted for not longer than ten seconds, yet it was enough for goose bumps to rise in my arms. Shivering, I turned my head toward the window, the curtain fluttering in the chilly breeze. It was strange, especially when I didn't leave it open. Sighing, I jumped off the bed and walked to the window to close it, only to furrow my eyebrows in confusion when I realised it was closed. There had to be a scientific explanation; the draft just didn't emerge from nothingness.

Before I got a chance to ponder the occurrence, I heard a faint knock on the doors, interrupting my train of thought. My head immediately turned, Taehyung's head picked inside my room.

"You're not asleep, thank God," he spoke casually, a sheepish smile decorating his face. Slowly, he pushed the doors open, gingerly entering my room, his pillow in his grip. "Would it be a problem if I slept here tonight?" He asked boldly, his gaze drilling holes in my eyes. "My room stinks as if someone has died in there," he clarified honestly, and I just nodded my head in comprehension.

"You can stay, I guess," I replied nonchalantly, as I wondered if I was his first choice. Didn't he prefer to stay with one of the guys? Or Krystal? Or whoever else? 

"Thanks, you're the best," Taehyung beamed at me, quickly plopping on the right side of the bed, "you're my life saver."

"No problem," I muttered and gave him a faint smile, before I turned my head around, examining the window again. It bothered me that I couldn't come up with a logical explanation, even when I knew one existed; surely it wasn't Casper the ghost, playing with the curtains for crying out loud!

"What are you doing over there?" Taehyung asked, his deep, worried voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "Have you seen a ghost? You look unhealthily pale."

"What...?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I didn't register what exactly he asked me about. "Oh, it's really nothing. I thought I saw something, but it must be nothing. It's just the house, everybody says it's haunted, and even if I don't believe in that, it still makes me feel a bit edgy." I explained, smiling sheepishly throughout my whole reply, as I analysed his concerned expression.

"Don't worry, it's a natural reaction in these circumstances, everyone a bit scared even though they may not outwardly admit that." Taehyung assured, trying to provide me with comfort of some sort. "Hell, even I'm a little frightened." He confessed, and I let out a faint chuckle. The thing was, I wasn't scared, what I felt was confusion without any sort of fear.

I knew better than to believe in that lies Namjoon had fed us with; the supernatural beings don't exist. Period. He might've fooled the rest of them, but I had never been easy to convince.

"It's not I'm scared. Maybe a little uneasy, but that's all." I replied, striving to look as confident as I possibly could. "Anyway," I started, rubbing my hands eagerly, "do you want to check out your room?"

"Not really," quickly, he brushed me off, his body comfortably lying on my bed, his arms tightly wrapped around the pillow, his lips puckered, "when I said that it stank, I meant it. Actually, I'm pretty much surprised you can't smell it from here."

"Okay, let's just stay here." I gave in, not really trying to force him to leave. I truly liked his company, and if he wanted to stay the night, I'd let him even if nothing was going to happen. "But if you hear me talking in my sleep just ignore it, I am not being possessed." I warned him, but Taehyung just beamed at me.

"And if you feel as if a boa snake is trying to kill you, don't panic, you're not being attacked. It's just me." Taehyung announced, holding his pillow tightly between his arms.

"Sure..." I replied, sounding not convinced, "I'll remember that."

"Aren't you tired?" He asked, his head propped on his elbow, as he stared at me. I was still standing next to the window, almost as if I was too shy to lie down beside him. "It's like seriously late," he yawned loudly, not even covering his mouth.

"I was, but sometimes one moment I'm super exhausted, only to be hyper when I should go to bed." I explained, slowly approaching him, the eerie curtain occurrence almost forgotten.

"Yeah, I get it." Taehyung nodded his head, as he closed his eyes, and snuggled tightly around the sheets, making himself absolutely comfortable. "Amber must be suffering like you right now. When I was standing in front of your doors, I could swear I heard moans coming from her room. And if I'm not mistaken, they were Krystal's."

"Whoa," I said, unable to disguise my perplexed reaction. They hadn't made it obvious that they had any romantic strings between them. Moreover, if I had to tip who were in a relationship, I'd nominate Yoongi and Jimin; Krystal hadn't held Amber’s hand when rain started to hit the windows, it was Jimin who had got scared, seeking safety in Yoongi's tight grip.

"At least someone's getting some," I added absent-mindedly, the depressing thoughts of my painfully long singlehood resurfaced.

"I'm very sorry that we're not having sex right now. If I knew sooner that you're down to fuck, I'd save my energy. Not today, kitten." Taehyung teased me, his mind almost in dreamland.

"That's not what I meant!" I replied defensively, shooting him a disapproving glance, which much to my dismay, got unnoticed. "I'm thinking long-term here," I added, although I knew he wasn't listening.

"Good night, Taehyung." I whispered, as I sat on the bed beside him, ready to return to reading on my phone.

When I woke up, Taehyung was gone. Lazily rubbing my eyes, I reached for my phone to check the time and other notifications; it was past noon, and I must've been the only person still in bed. Despite a hot affair between Krystal and Amber, I doubted anyone had stayed awake to 4 o'clock to finish reading.

A loud growl of my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts, demanding food. However, no matter how hungry I was, I had to shower first.

Swiftly, I got out of bed and approached the suitcase, fishing out everything I needed: a clean set of clothes, a bathrobe, and shower necessities.

The bathroom down the hall, thankfully, wasn't occupied, so I quickly sneaked in, locking the doors from the inside.

Instantly, I noticed a camera attached to the ceiling; everybody knows that in horror movies, ghosts just love scaring the shit out of people in the bathrooms, so I can't say that I am surprised. God bless the shower curtain and toilet stall!

Once under the hot steam of water, body coated in a bath foam, I spoke in confusion, "what the fuck?" It was weird, at night, when I had gone to bed, I didn't have any bruises, yet right now, my hips and thighs were covered in a handful of dark marks. How did that happen? These weren't hickeys, obviously. I hadn't knocked into anything, either.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I stared at the marks, still unable to recall how the hell I got them. Once again, something odd happened, and I didn't have an explanation for it; perhaps I am not as smart as I thought I was.

Having pushed the bothersome thoughts aside, I swiftly finished the shower and put on my outfit which consisted of black, ripped jeans and a simple band T-shirt.

​​​"Look who we have here, the Sleeping Beauty finally came downstairs." Taehyung snickered, as soon as I entered the kitchen. Taehyung was alone, doing the dishes, while the rest lounged around the living room, either sipping coffee, or looking at their screens. "How was your sleep?" He asked, looking at me over his shoulder, sending me a simple smile.

"Short," I retorted, as I sat on the stool by the table, looking at the remains of their breakfast. "What about you?"

"I slept like a log," Taehyung admitted, as he turned off the tap and threw the sponge into the sink before he took a seat beside me.

"Taehyung, did we... you know... do anything yesterday? I have these... weird bruises, and I have no idea how I got them. We didn't sleep together, did we?" I mumbled, playing with my fingers. I realised I must've sounded crazy and confused, and thankfully, he didn't laugh at me. "It's really strange, but I seriously don't know how to explain that. I wasn't that drunk, and I was conscious the whole time." I tried to formulate a reasonable explanation, and Taehyung, despite me sounding batshit crazy, he just grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Trust me, kitten, I'd remember that." Taehyung answered playfully, rubbing his thumb against my skin in a soothing manner. "And are you sure you haven't knocked into anything?" He asked, and I shook my head confidently. "Then, it must be the house. It's haunted, remember?"

"I'm being serious here," I whined, and Taehyung tightened his grip around my fingers.

"Don't look at me like that, something's wrong about this house. At breakfast, Yoongi told me that during the night, he felt the draft in his room, although the windows and the doors were closed." Taehyung started, and I looked at him with my eyes wide open; Yoongi had experienced the same thing, and it seemed a bit too coincidental for my liking. It was strange, but it didn't mean that the house was actually haunted.

"It doesn't mean the ghost assaulted me."

"You're right, but tell me when you come up with a better explanation."

"Does anyone know the history of this house?" Amber asked out of the blue, obtaining everyone's attention. "I googled it, and it's pretty messed up."

"Better keep it to yourself, she's already paranoid," Taehyung interjected, pointing his finger at me, earning a jab between his ribs. I wasn't paranoid, I was just puzzled. "What?" He asked loudly, his grip on my wrist, protecting him from me.

"Shut up, you're not better yourself. Who came to my room yesterday? You're the scaredy-cat, just admit it." I fought back, wriggling my arms from his grasp.

"Okay, we get it, you're both chickens," Yoongi commented, as he gave us a judging look. "What does it say?"

"Basically, whoever moves in dies." Amber summed up, as everyone stared at her, eagerly waiting for more details. "The legend says that the family who built this house was brutally murdered by robbers. It is believed the man, right before his death, swore to take vengeance on anybody who comes inside."

"That story's lame," Krystal criticized, shaking her head in disappointment, "I can't believe that's what you came up with, pathetic."

"I didn't come up with anything!" Amber defended herself, but Krystal didn't seem the tiniest bit convinced. "I found this article from a couple of years ago, and it says that over twenty people died in here; adults and kids, everyone cruelly butchered, no survivors. Just read it yourself." She sat up and stretched her hand, passing her phone to Krystal.

"Still lame."

In the evening, when Yoongi found a stash of alcohol, the atmosphere loosened up; no one was thinking about the urban legend, our minds hazy.

"Do you guys wanna play? Krystal and I deserve a break," Amber asked, as she pointed at the table where Yoongi and Jimin were refilling cups for another round of beer pong.

"Sure," Taehyung replied for the both of us, as he smiled at Amber and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the couch. "Come on, kitten, we're gonna fucking destroy them," he added, and I shook my head at Taehyung's confidence. I didn't doubt his skills, mine, however, left a lot to be desired. Especially, when I was already after a couple of drinks.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Tae," Jimin warned, as he smirked at us, "we crushed them, and we're most definitely gonna crush you."

"I probably should tell you that I, Kim Taehyung, have never lost, not even once, at beer pong." With a hand pressed against his heart, Taehyung admitted, while I tried to fight the urge to start laughing at his serious approach. He wasn't going to play to have fun, he was going to beat them out.

"What about you, kitten?" Yoongi asked in a mocking tone, infuriating me even more with that annoying nickname he had caught on from Taehyung.

"What about me? You better worry about yourself because Taehyung and I will beat the crap out of you." I exclaimed and high-fived Taehyung before we cheered together, being confident about our victory. Hopefully, Taehyung had his self-proclaimed skills, otherwise, we're pretty much screwed.

"Feisty." Yoongi hissed under his breath, a lopsided smirk decorating his face. "In that case, we should arrange a bet; what do you think?"

"Bring it on," Taehyung replied confidently, as he sent a determined glare at Yoongi and Jimin, "what's the punishment gonna be?"

"We'll have that figured out by the end of the match, okay?"

Having cracked my knuckles, and heaved a sigh, the game started, me being the first one to throw the ball, as the boys insisted that ladies first. Surprisingly, I managed to score for our team; unfortunately, it was the first and also last point I notched up. Amongst the four of us, Taehyung was definitely the best player, yet with my awful contribution, it wasn't enough to win against them.

"In your face!"

"There's a first time for everything, Tae!" Jimin mocked, as he approached our side of the table, and patted Taehyung's shoulder with artificial care. "What are we gonna make them do, Yoongs?"

"Don't worry, shit happens." Taehyung spoke, trying to cheer me up when Yoongi and Jimin were conferring our punishment. "It's not a big deal."

"Sorry, Tae. It's all my fault. If you want I can do the punishment alone. It's fine with me."

With everlasting smile upon his face, he shook his head. Of course, he'd do that, given how much of a sweetheart I knew he was.

"Don't be ridiculous," Taehyung spoke, as he spared me a short glance before he focused on Jimin and Yoongi who're bending their backs backward, desperate to come up with a sinister punishment.

"Today's Halloween, maybe we should send them to the basement. If the ghosts don't hunt them down, we'll know that Namjoon has been bullshitting the whole time." Jimin announced, and Yoongi enthusiastically clapped his hands and nodded his head, agreeing with Jimin's idea.

"Oh my God," Krystal whined and rolled her eyes, as she took a short break from her Instagram profile, "you guys are so lame! Unbelievably uncreative. A sponge would generate a better punishment."

Krystal was right; the guys didn't possess even a whit of creativity. They were also dicks, picking a dull cliché from every horror movie ever. Going to the basement with Taehyung wasn't a problem to me, yet when Jimin and Yoongi opted for clichés, I'd rather make out with my game partner. Their idea was neutral, and I didn't really mind spicing things up.

Hopefully, Taehyung didn't either.

"Just let them, they tried their best," Taehyung replied casually, yet I didn't miss the sly, subtle smirk that he sent me. He was up to something; it was obvious, and although I didn't know anything about his revenge plan, I could only assume that Yoongi and Jimin would regret messing with us. Or at least, making fun of us. "It's really nothing, we'll crush them in the next round. It was just a warm-up."

"Yeah... sure....," Yoongi hissed, sounding unconvinced, as he knew we didn't stand a chance to win against them. Not in the next round. Not ever.

"Finish your drink, Tae." Jimin said casually, as he looked at Taehyung's cup which was half full.

As soon as Taehyung emptied his cup with only three gulps, Yoongi and Jimin walked us to the basement doors, eloquently calling our mission 'Seven Minutes in Hell'. Frankly, despite all the alcohol in my blood, it still made me cringe.

"Okay, what was about that look?" I asked straightforwardly when the doors closed behind us, Taehyung and I in the embrace of darkness, occasional squeaks of the floor above us heard whenever someone moved.

"What look?" Taehyung asked, as he batted his eyelashes at me, trying to trick me into believing in his innocence. I had caught his smirk, he couldn't deny it, and I wouldn't fall for that. He was definitely up to something.

"Don't act like an idiot, Tae. That look, I know you have some sort of a revenge plan." I explained, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was smirking. We're going to bite back at Jimin and Yoongi, and if he really thought I'd step back, he was awfully mistaken. We didn't know each other very well, but the playful competitiveness that had surrounded us fueled me even more, not really wanting to stop the battle now. It was fun, and I couldn't stop. Taehyung had to feel the same way.

"Well... I can't say I have a particular idea in my mind, but it would be funny if we managed to pull a prank on them, don't you think?" He started, and I nodded my head, agreeing with him. It was harmless. Moreover, the house was obviously a ghost-free zone, they deserved to experience something exciting. If the ghost didn't want to scare them, Taehyung and I would take care of it instead. "Do you have an idea? Hopefully, you don't lack creativity as much as Yoongi and Jimin do."

"I don't know, we don't have much time left," I spoke, as I reached into the back pocket of my jeans to pull my phone, getting blinded by its brightness. "We have like six minutes, I doubt we manage to pull out an epic prank. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

This time, I was the one who had a lopsided smirk upon my face, "let's see," I spoke casually, as I grabbed Taehyung's hand and led him downstairs, trying to omit random objects which were scattered all over the place.

"Do think that's where all these people died?" Taehyung asked, as he followed behind me, his warm hand resting in mine, his gaze focused on the back of my head.

"No, of course, not. If anything, I'd bet they were killed in our beds." I replied casually, and Taehyung tightened his grip, as he heard my statement. I'm not surprised, it came much darker than I originally intended.

"That's really messed up," Taehyung muttered under his breath, obviously crept out by my bold remark. Damn it, I really should've known when to bite my tongue and just shut up. Even if I had the slightest chance to get it on with Taehyung, I just botched it up. The prospect of any form of intimacy just sank like a stone. "Why would you even say that?"

"Sorry, sometimes I forget it's not the Internet, and that I just can't say whatever comes to my mind." I replied, smiling at him sheepishly, knowing the situation I put myself in was miserable, and it couldn't get any worse. At this point, Satan himself could crack the surface of the Earth and set my dumb ass on fire, and I'd probably thank him for saving me from this embarrassment.

And since I was already a lost cause, I could play a little prank on him.

Abruptly, I turned off the flashlight on my phone, yanked my hand out of Taehyung's grip, and screamed, sounding quite naturally. No wonder, given how many times I had popped out of nowhere, scaring the crap out of my brother. Just as I expected, the second the light went out, Taehyung let out a shriek, which was followed by a fit of my laughter. Taehyung and the guys upstairs must've just lost their minds, some of them maybe even convinced that a vengeful spirit just finished us off.

"Holy shit, it wasn't funny." Taehyung gasped with a hand pressed against his chest when I switched on the flashlight. He looked utterly terrified, and I seriously felt like the worst person in the world. Maybe I really was the worst person in the world, yet the temptation was way too strong to fight. I couldn't waste this chance. "You almost got me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," I apologised, trying to refrain from giggling, even though it was truly difficult; his voice normally is really deep and raspy, yet just a while ago he didn't sound like himself. I wouldn't be surprised if the guys thought that high-pitched wail belonged to me. "You have to understand me, though. You'd do the same, you wouldn't be able to fight that sort of whim."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Taehyung agreed, scratching the back of his head, as he admitted his playful intentions. "I'm still angry, though. I almost pissed my pants, you know..."

"Sorry, but look at the bright side; you're gonna be prepared when the real ghost conjures up in front of you." I expounded, yet Taehyung didn't buy it. I just knew it, and the skeptical look he was giving me only validated my point. "Ugh, fine, let's make a deal. If anything supernatural happens, I'll shield you with my very own chest. Let's say, it's my token of atonement, okay?"

"Not okay," Taehyung crossed his hands across his chest, as he flat out rejected my proposition. That was unexpected. Who normal would pass on such a sweet deal? "First of all, it'd really hurt my ego if a girl jumped between me and a fucking ghost. That's highly unnecessary, kitten. It'd much rather you kissed it better." Taehyung asserted, as he poked his cheek with his long, slender forefinger.

I couldn't believe he actually said that; I thought he hated me.

Because of me we had lost the beer pong game. Moreover, I was the one who had made him scream like a little girl. Was he attracted to me the way I was attracted to him? Was he so interested in me that he actually was capable of turning a blind eye to me basically doing a one-eighty to his image?

"You're serious?" I asked, my eyebrows raised, as I still couldn't process that he, I'll be jiggered, requested a kiss.

Immediately, his gaze met mine, and I just couldn't look away. I was irrationally fascinated by him, and he, surprise, surprise, reciprocated my attraction.

"What? You don't want to?" Taehyung inquired, heaving a sigh.

Normally, I'd panic and lie, fleeing from the basement as soon as I could. Right now, however, I didn't even think about escaping. I just stood there, gawking at him, digesting his words. It still felt surreal; my cheeks probably scarlet red by now, his eyebrows furrowed in anticipation.

What the hell was I thinking? I had to be an idiot; why, on Earth, was I pondering over his statement? I ought to have smashed my lips against his the second he prodded his cheek. The guys could call us any minute; we didn't have much time, why the fuck was I wasting it?

Having come to my senses, I eagerly took a step forward, his arms wrapping around my waist the second I was within his reach. Nothing really happened yet, but my heart was already beating abnormally in excitement. Taehyung had amazing influence on me, or was it the consumed alcohol? Either way, I wanted him, and Good Lord, I should not have been satiated with just a peck!

"You know what to do, kitten," Taehyung urged, and I rolled my eyes at the nickname which I heard like the hundredth time tonight. It was really irritating, yet I just couldn't formulate a witty remark, as my mind completely shut off once I found myself in Taehyung's embrace. Almost as if we were in our personal bubble where nothing mattered, the sinister surroundings long forgotten.

Gently, I placed my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his cheek.

"That's not even a kiss, do it properly," he whined, his fingers delicately digging into my skin, as he pulled me closer. Immediately, I replied with a smirk, trailing innocent pecks across his cheek, only to hover my lips over his, enjoying teasing him. If we went any further, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. For a short while, Taehyung and I looked into each other's eyes, as we breathed the same air, tinges of lust racing between our bodies.

"Kitten," he started, as he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against my lips.

"Hmm?"

Slowly, I closed my eyes and leaned in; Taehyung's lips were incredibly soft when he moved against me. It wasn't anything extraordinary, yet it felt just heavenly; no tongue, no biting, no sucking—it was just a kiss in the simplest of forms. Why did he taste so marvelous, then?

It must've been his natural charm, as no other explanation came to my mind.

Gradually, I started to trace the outline of his lips with my tongue, and Taehyung responded by slightly opening his mouth, welcoming my tongue with his. Taehyung's hands roamed around my body, squeezing my hips and drawing small circles with his fingers on my skin. I, on the other hand, was pressed against his frame, my breasts rubbing against his chest, his thigh between my legs.

"Mmn..." I purred quietly, when I pulled away for a second to catch a breath. "You're an amazing kisser, Tae," I confessed and immediately captured his lips in a heated kiss, slipping my tongue inside his mouth. Taehyung instantly replied with a grunt, as he grabbed my bottom and gripped it, excitingly yanking me toward him, the outline of his semi-hard cock poking against my stomach.

No matter how long we made out; lust only amplified with each passing second. Taehyung tasted so addicting, it completely shut off my brain. I could only focus on the kiss and ways how to prolong it; the revenge plan the last thing on our minds.

My excuses went down the drain at once, as Jimin's worried voice echoed, his head stuck through the doors.

"You dead?"

Ever since we left the basement, Taehyung and I kept stealing glances at each other; the kiss had been amazing, and neither of us wished to pull away. However, we both felt quite uncomfortable making out in front of the rest. (Or was it just me, and Taehyung just didn't want to force me into anything. Especially when I confessed it was me who had shrieked at the top of my voice when I had thought I saw a ghost.)

Taehyung owes me.

Big time.

The tension between us was driving me crazy. It was utterly ridiculous how much I craved to return to Taehyung's embrace to score every base with him. Shamelessly, I needed his arms on me, bending me to his will as he wished.

"God, I'm so bored," Yoongi whined, as he locked his phone and rubbed his eyes. "I'll just go to sleep. Wake me up when a ghost decides to show up."

"Maybe, it's not that bad of an idea," Amber commented, yawning ostentatiously.

"That's official, this is definitely the worst Halloween party ever," Krystal criticized, looking around the room, everyone either exhausted or drunk. (In Yoongi's case, both.) "At least, I am being paid to be here."

​​​​​"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Taehyung asked, sounding confused and disappointed at the same time. True, we hadn't witnessed any paranormal activity, yet it didn't necessarily mean that the party was horrible.

It was fun.

Especially my time alone with Taehyung.

​​​​​"We're all tired, Tae." Jimin said casually, smiling at the latter, as he didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I don't know what about you, but I couldn't fall asleep; I didn't blink an eye yesterday."​​​​

"Fine," Taehyung groaned, plopping down onto the couch beside Krystal, "it's just that Namjoon will come get us in the morning, and we will probably never meet each other again. I thought it'd be fun if we used the time we have to the fullest. You're like seriously an awesome entourage."

Taehyung's words stung. The really stung, and although I didn't get to know them as thoroughly as I wanted to, I knew I'd miss them. Everyone was different in many ways, and we, as a group, complemented perfectly.

Also, I didn't particularly delude myself; I knew that Taehyung would be a very short chapter of my life, and despite that, I still felt bitter that tomorrow we would go our separate ways and never see each other again.

When everyone went to their rooms, Taehyung let out a heavy sign, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "are you going to go, too?" he asked, as he changed his position, leaning in, his elbows pressed against his thighs, his eyes seeking mine, almost begging me to stay.

"No," I firmly replied, sending him a faint smile. I wasn't going anywhere; Taehyung was right, we didn't have much time left, and I didn't want to leave him. "I'm not even the tiniest bit tired," I stated, as I stood up, and approached him, sitting down beside him. Our little moment in the basement was more than just energizing; it was so refreshing I couldn't remember when I felt this good.

"Thank you, kitten," he spoke softly, and grabbed my hand, placing a gentle peck on my knuckles, "so what do you want to do?" he inquired, turning to me, resting his head in his hand, as he propped his shoulder on the backrest. "I believe we were interrupted just a while ago," he remembered, and with a lopsided smirk upon his face, he leaned slowly forward.

"Yeah, we were," I agreed, yet just when he was about to kiss me, I pressed my forefinger against his lips, stopping him. Quickly, Taehyung arched his back and looked at me in confusion; I had to be out of my character to push him away. "You have no idea how much I want us to continue wherever we left off, but look around, Tae, cameras are all over the place. Namjoon pays quite handsomely, but it's not enough for my sex tape."

Taehyung laughed.

Loudly.

"Oh, kitten, you amuse me so much," he added, and I sulked. Was my assumption really that far-fetched? That hurt — a lot. "Hey, hey, hey, it's not what I meant, please, don't brood. It's just that I don't sleep around, kitten."

"I don't either," quickly, I replied, making him smile again, yet at this point, I couldn't tell what it meant. "I really want to fuck you right now, though."

His smile disappeared only to be replaced with lustful glance, his eyes slowly undressing me.

Abruptly, he stood up and yanked me with him, "my car's in the driveway."

The second we entered the car, I slammed my lips against his in a fervent, needy kiss; our disappointingly short make out session had only ignited fire with me, and I immediately had to share it with Taehyung before I completely burned out.

"I'm not really that kind of a guy," Taehyung defended himself when he managed to pull away. I had my hands on his broad shoulders, my fingers slowly roaming around his neck, giving him the best massage I was capable of.

"I know, you've already said that," I simply stated and smiled at him before reconnecting our mouth again in another passionate lock. "I'm not that kind of a girl, either, but I really want you, so why the hell not?"

Taehyung didn't need another assurance. I just gave him a green light to do whatever he wanted to do, and he couldn't be more ecstatic about it. His mouth could be shut, but his eyes were pure sin, glancing at me with utter lust.

"Oh, kitten," Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back against the headrest. He was enjoying it, although I barely touched him. "I don't deserve you," he added before he formed a pleased smirk.

He was wrong, though.

I didn't deserve him.

However, it didn't stop either of whom to take what we really wanted. We desired each other, itching to reach that high together, even though we knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

"Shut up, Tae," I reprimanded him, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Are we doing this or not?" I challenged him and before I managed to take a breath, Taehyung kissed me quite desperately. His hands stretched and landed on my sides, as he pulled me onto him, his cock poking against my stomach.

"I'd never forgive myself if I rejected you," Taehyung stated in a serious tone, his eyes fixated on me as if he was going to eat me alive. His stare was of a starved predator, and I was about to devote myself to him, willing to obey his every, even the kinkiest one, command.

"I'd never forgive myself if I let you reject me," I snickered and rocked my hips against him, earning a throaty moan from him. His cock, still restrained in his jeans, was throbbing for more friction, yet he'd have to wait for the main course a bit more.

I loved foreplay and I wasn't going to give up on that, even when I ridiculously wanted to feel him inside of me. My patience was going to be rewarded, it always is.

"Not even once it struck me you're such a bad girl," he spoke with a smirk, as he kneaded my ass cheeks when I was busy raking my finger across his chest and peppering his jaw and neck with damp kisses, nipping on his skin in an urge to mark him.

"Because I am not. I just met a guy who brings the worst out of me," I teased, and Taehyung tightened his grip on my sides, giving me a slight spank.

"I wouldn't say the worst... I kinda like that new image of you," Taehyung confessed, and I smiled shyly, quickly hiding my face in the crook of his neck, leaving stamps of my plum lipstick on his skin.

"Oh, Taehyung," I breathed out, as I unbuckled his jeans and put my hands in his pants.

Taehyung hissed the second I touched him, "damn, your hands are fucking cold!"

He was right, yet I was certain they would warm up quickly with a few strokes on his rock-hard cock. "Better?" I asked when his lips turned into a pleased smirk.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his eyes close shut, as he completely focused on my gentle touch, caressing his sensitive skin. Right now, I felt so powerful, straddling him; his body was reacting to even the slightest movement of my hand. "Kitten," Taehyung murmured on the exhale, as he grabbed my bottom and forced me onto him, so I fell on his chest, nuzzling my nose in his neck.

Uncontrollably, I giggled, and Taehyung stretched his arm, turning on the radio, and although I didn't mind the current mood, the soft ballad that filled the vehicle created a semi-romantic setting.

Without any comment, Taehyung looked me in the eyes, as he unzipped my jeans and forced his hand in my panties. "You're so wet, kitten," he snickered, and I rolled my eyes at his obvious statement. If only he knew I had been this excited for him ever since our kiss in the basement.

"Don't blame me, I really want to feel that cock inside of me," I stated nonchalantly, pulling him into another round of lustful and wanton kisses. Grunting, I slammed my lips against his, and he responded in an instant, poking his tongue against my teeth, demanding entrance.

"I'd never think you're into dirty talk," Taehyung spoke casually, as he played with my clit, flicking it between his fingers, making all my muscles tense, my hips grinding against his hand. Slowly, he ran his forefinger across my fold, smearing my juices all over my pussy; God, even the gentle caress of his digits got me trembling for more. At this point, I couldn't wait to feel what his cock was going to do to me.

"Because I am not, but with you it just seems suited," I confessed, and Taehyung reattached our lips together, pushing his middle finger inside of me, making me almost bite my tongue. His hands were perfectly sculpted and his fingers were just right, filling me just the way I need him to. "Fuck, Tae, keep doing that," I moaned, my voice louder than the radio in the background. Taehyung added another finger, and began to rub my clit with his thumb.

"I really do bring the worst out of you," Taehyung sneered playfully, pumping his fingers within me, making me squirt on his hand. He really had no mercy when it came to pleasuring me; if he kept the pace, I'd come before the song ended. "Shit," Taehyung spat, as I started to shamelessly ride his hand in desperation for more.

"I seriously need your cock right now."

"Fuck," Taehyung pulled out his fingers, and his hands quickly landed back on my hips, squeezing my flesh roughly. "Get your cute ass on the back seat," he ordered sternly and pushed me upwards, helping me get off of him. With the grace and elegance of a noddle-legged zebra, I followed Taehyung's command, almost falling face-first on the seat in my tipsy state when he spanked my ass cheekily.

"Hey," I whined as I sat on the cold seat, waiting for Taehyung to join me, "it wasn't nice, what would you do if I spanked you?"

"I'd ask you to do it again," he replied wittily, and I roared with laughter, as I watched him crumble in the seat beside me, his movement almost as clumsy as mine. "Spread those pretty legs for me kitten," he whispered, a devilish smirk decorating his handsome face.

I didn't have to be told twice, I obeyed his order in an instant, whereas Taehyung hooked his fingers under the waistband of my jeans, and pulled them off my legs agonizingly slowly, and at this point, I didn't know whether he was torturing me, or himself.

Quickly, I pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders, and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his naked chest and broad shoulders; maybe he wasn't ripped like a hockey player, but I liked his proportional frame. Without any hesitation, I could admit that he was ridiculously attractive despite anything.

"Take off your shirt, kitten," Taehyung cooed, and as if compelled, I got out of my jacket and band T-shirt, not leaving much to the imagination, since I was only in my panties and a violet bra that beautifully shaped my breasts. His eyes were focused on my cleavage, while his general expression was actually blank. "Wow," that's all he managed to voice before he grabbed me by my thighs abruptly and pulled me toward him, so in the process, I lay down on my back on the back seat, Taehyung already positioned between my legs.

"Taehyung," I purred when I felt his lips on the inner side of my right thigh. He was taking his time teasing me, and although it was nice, I couldn't wait for him to slam his cock inside of me until I come around him. Slowly, his kisses wandered upwards; gentle pecks all across my stomach, cleavage, and neck before he captured my mouth.

"Please," I mewled when he pulled away to catch a breath.

"Please what?" Taehyung smiled at me, rubbing his hard cock against my folds. Fuck, why do we still have so many clothes on?

"Pull out that cock and fuck me," I spoke rather tenaciously, as I placed my hands on his sides and pulled him closer, and he almost fell over on top of me. Didn't he understand how much I desired him?

"I really wanted to eat you out, though," Taehyung announced and licked his lips, as if trying to seduce me.

Didn't he realise I was already allured?

Twice.

"Oh my God," Taehyung tugged my panties to the side and tongue flicked his tongue against my clit, and I immediately buckled my hips upward against his face and clenched my fists, grabbing his fluffy hair. Every muscle of my body was tensed, my eyes tightly shut, and I only concentrated on Taehyung's tongue lapping and delving inside of me.

"What the fuck? Did you hear that?" We both instantly pulled away from each other and glanced at the radio which a second ago roared with deafening white noise. Strangely enough, it only lasted a few seconds, and I could swear I heard Jimin's scream.

"I did," Taehyung admitted, as he looked at the radio, and then at me, his frame supported on his arms, his hands pressed against the seat. "It must be nothing," he shrugged, and leaned in, kissing my abdomen, slowly pulling my panties down my legs. "The radio program must want to scare its listeners, that's all."

Taehyung's reasoning didn't convince me, yet I decided to follow his example and just shake it off; I had to be actually possessed to stop right now, put on my clothes back and check if Jimin's safe. Besides, he's a grown-up and he's not alone; he ought to be fine.

"Where were we?"

Quickly, a smile appeared on my face and the occurrence from a moment ago was the last thing on my mind.

"You were going to fuck me," I replied quickly, smirking at him. Obediently, Taehyung pulled down his pants to his knees, giving his thick cock a few strokes, "do you have a condom?"

"Shit, you're right," Taehyung cursed, but quickly reached into the car compartment where thankfully was a pack of condoms.

"You ready?" he asked the second he rolled the condom on his cock and positioned himself in front of my entrance.

"Fuck me, Taehyung."

Without any trouble, Taehyung eased himself in, and although I was soaking wet, he grunted as my walls wrapped around him tightly. Slowly at first, gradually increasing his pace, Taehyung snapped his hips, making me moan with every thrust. My breasts, although still in the bra, rocked in Taehyung's rhythm.

"Fuck, you're tight," Taehyung grunted under his breath, as he slammed his cock inside of me, his balls hitting against my body. His forehead was covered in sweat, and I was panting in exhaustion even we just began; his performance was amazing, short waves of pleasure running to every inch of my body.

"Just like that," I moaned, almost melting in front of him. He fucked me so good that it made me wonder how could he know my body better than I did. No one had ever made me feel this heavenly so soon; even myself. "Damn, Taehyung, you're killing me," his cock felt so amazing that it almost hurt. "I want to ride you, Tae."

"Fuck, come here." He hissed, as he pulled out of me, and I whined already missing his cock. It felt so empty that I almost felt bad for asking him for a change of position. Raggedly, Taehyung sat on the seat and placed his hands on my hips, helping me to sit down on his lap. "Ah, kitten," Taehyung purred when my sex brushed against his twitching cock, "I already miss that tight pussy."

Running my fingers through his fluffy hair, I raised my hips, and Taehyung positioned his dick against my entrance. Slowly, I sat down on him, my walls once again stretching around him. "Fuck, it makes me so full," I moaned, my eyes closed, my breath hitched.

Sensually, I rocked my hips back and fro, while Taehyung was decorating my cleavage with damp kisses, his large hands under my bra, fondling my breast. His touch wasn't too gentle, nor too rough; he knew what he was doing to make me feel desired and striving for more.

"Let me see them," Taehyung grunted, as he reached behind my back, unhooking my purple bra, tossing it onto the dashboard. "Beautiful, just as I imagined them," he confessed and before I got to give him a questioning look, his lips landed on my nipple. Hungrily, he sucked on my sensitive bud, his left hand kneading the other breast, making me slow my moves, as I savored the feeling of his tongue.

"Oh God," I moaned, digging my fingernails into the skin of his broad shoulders. "Taehyung," his name rolled off my tongue, and Taehyung immediately grasped my chin and tilted it down, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, haste kiss. His tongue swirled around mine, as he swallowed each moan that left my mouth.

"I hope you're close because I'm fucking coming," Taehyung warned me before he placed his hands on my sides, helping me increase my pace. The sound of our bodies, the skin slapping almost got me loose my balance. His fingertips dug into my hips, and I threw my head back, nearing my orgasm.

It was our first time, and although we both wanted to last as long as we could, I'd gladly reach my high now. I didn't really mind it as long as he was down for another round. Maybe not today, but generally. On my side, it was too fantastic to settle on a one night stand.

Hopefully, Taehyung thought the same.

"Just come, Tae," I breathed out, almost unable to speak, "I'm coming, too."

With a final thrust, Taehyung growled in ecstasy, releasing himself into a condom, while I fluttered my eyes when the shattering sensation nearly ripped me apart. For a brief moment, the orgasm overwhelmed me; my vision faded to black, and I was lying on my back, desperately trying to catch a breath, listening to Taehyung's irregular breathing.

God, how much I wished we could stay in his car a bit longer.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Taehyung gasped the second we entered the house, "what the fuck are you doing Jimin? It's not funny, bro." He added, and I looked over his shoulder to see what frightened him so much. Apparently, Jimin thought it'd be a good idea to stay up all night, sitting in a chair in front of the entrance with his hands entwined on his laps, just to catch us sneaking inside.

"Not cool, Jimin. Not cool." I added and shook my head disapprovingly.

"Are you gonna answer us?" Taehyung asked, crossing his arms over his chest, while I was just staring at Jimin, crept out by him as he not even once blinked since we had entered the house.

Hesitantly, I raised my hand and waved in front of Jimin's eyes, but he didn't move an inch. "That's creepy—" I spoke and shrieked in astonishment when the doors behind us slammed spontaneously with a loud bang. "Okay, Jimin, that's not funny anymore," I urged him, snapping my fingers before his face, yet Jimin remained unresponsive.

"Hey," Taehyung shouted, as he placed his large hands on Jimin's shoulders, trying to shake him awake. Unfortunately, his method also failed.

"Taehyung, look," I said, lightly elbowing Taehyung's side, wanting to obtain his attention, "there's blood," I added, pointing at Jimin's hands.

The second we examined his palms, Jimin shot a sinister glare at us, curving his lips into a creepy smirk. "Look who's finally here," Jimin started, his voice oddly different, as if an octave lower and raspier. He didn't sound like himself, and I was completely alerted. "I hope you liked your stay," Jimin continued and raised from his seat, turning his head in a very uncomfortable angle, as his eyes was drilling in our faces.

"Ha, ha, ha," Taehyung laughed awkwardly, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Taehyung," I whispered, as I tugged at his sleeve.

"What's the matter, kitten?" He asked, as he stared back at Jimin who licked the blood off of his hands, "that's nasty, bro."

"I don't want to break your moment over there, but I'm pretty sure it's Yoongi who lies on the floor over there in a puddle of blood." Taehyung's eyes immediately followed the direction I pointed at, and the second he spotted Yoongi, he pushed Jimin backwards. Jimin chortled as we tried to run away.

Oddly, the kitchen doors shut close almost in front of our faces, and this time, I doubted it was caused by the aeration.

"Okay, plan B?"

"Not really," Taehyung shook his head, his mouth wide open as he stared at Jimin in panic. "I must admit I counted on you in that area, kitten."

"Fuck," I cursed, as I tried to come up with a solution. I like working under pressure, but this case was quite extreme, as Jimin behaved like someone else, and Yoongi was lying on the floor, blood slowly seeping out of his head. "Stay back," I told Taehyung as I took a step forward, so he could hide behind me. I wouldn't generate a better idea if I knew that Taehyung was directly exposed to danger.

"What are we gonna do?" Taehyung asked, and I shook my head, as I didn't come with anything yet.

I was silent, observing Jimin. However, as soon as Jimin started to levitate a foot above the ground, my eyes almost popped out of its sockets. Like how I previously thought that all of this was a staged prank, I began doubting myself. Like before I knew a logical explanation existed, right now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Run!" I screamed and pushed Taehyung in front of me, so if Jimin wanted to dash after us, Taehyung had more chances of getting away.

"Over here!" Amber's voice echoed through the corridor, and we immediately followed the sound, running into the last bedroom on the right. "Krystal and I thought that Jimin finished you off like he did Yoongi. Thankfully, we were wrong." She spoke, and Krystal barricaded the doors.

"What happened to Jimin?" Taehyung asked, as he managed to catch a breath.

"I wish we knew," Krystal started, as she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in her tight grip. "One moment we were going to rest in our rooms, and another, we heard Yoongi's scream."

"Quickly, we ran to see what the hell was going on. We saw Yoongi flying across the room, knocking his head against the wall." Amber finished, and Taehyung and I were equally crept out.

"That's messed up," Taehyung commented, and everyone nodded, agreeing with him. "What are we gonna do?"

Everyone was in deep thought; without a plan, we'd end up like Yoongi. It was three o'clock at night, and Namjoon was going to come get us at dawn. Right now, we had to be smart to last until then.

"Where are you hiding?" Jimin's sneer echoed behind the doors, as he strolled slowly, looking for us. He was taking his time chasing us, yet I suspected that he already knew where we were; he just played with us, making us think we stood a chance.

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud. Almost as if someone fell onto the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Amber asked in a raised voice, as she pointed at the doors. "I didn't like that sound."

"We should open the doors and see," Krystal spoke, and everyone looked at her, not knowing whether she was ridiculously brave or simply stupid. In our circumstances, the attack wasn't the best option; we would have to be batshit crazy to face the opponent, especially when we didn't have the foggiest idea what the fuck we were battling against.

"Nah, we're not gonna do that," I replied, trying my best not to offend her. I might've come a bit mean, yet Krystal's proposition wasn't the smartest option. No one in a right state of mind wouldn't willingly leave the sanctuary we were currently in. They might think I am a bitch, but at least, we would be safe. "Let's just stay here."

"What if Jimin's hurt?" Taehyung asked in concern, taking Krystal's side. It wasn't the place, not time for choosing sides, yet it happened. Taehyung was like me, no matter how stupid he was, he was worried about the rest. Without any doubt, he'd sacrifice himself if the group would make it without him. "We can't leave him like that."

Of course, we couldn't! Did he seriously think I didn't know that?

"Let's just go," Krystal added and smirked, and I immediately caught the difference in her voice. Amber realised it, too. Whatever possessed Jimin took over Krystal right now—that's why it was oddly quiet on the other side of the doors.

"Run!" Amber shouted, as she threw herself on Krystal, tackling her down on the floor. The second Amber's voice rang in my ears, I pushed the barricade as quickly as I could, and Taehyung and I escaped the room.

"We can't just leave her," Taehyung said when he looked over his shoulder, looking at Krystal, who was lying on the floor beneath Amber, chortling evilly.

"You're not gonna leave this house alive," Krystal threatened, as she laughed in Amber's face, effortlessly pushing her off of her. Taehyung and I gawked at Krystal whose eyes changed its colour to a very eerie shade of white.

With great dexterity, Krystal threw Amber across the room, smashing the old wardrobe with Amber's unconscious body.

"Run!" I shouted at Taehyung, pulling him with me, as we ran downstairs.

"What's your plan?"

"To get the fuck out of here!" I quickly screamed back at him, my hands instantly fidgeting with the knob. The doors just wouldn't open.

"Let me try," Taehyung proposed, and I took a step back, allowing him to try to break the doors down. Everything in vain, though. We were locked in. "Do you have a plan B?" Taehyung asked, as he hit the doors with his clenched fist in irritation.

"Tools? We need some tools," I said the first that came to my mind. I knew it wasn't the smartest solution, yet that's all I could postulate.

"Okay, just stay here, and I look for something," Taehyung stated and kissed my forehead before he ran off. It was very irresponsible to split up, yet I didn't even get to scold him, since he was already out of my sight. How could he leave me like that? I understood that he didn't want to put me in danger, but as a duo, we were stronger. I had watched way too many horror movies to know that splitting up was the worst thing that we could do.

Trying my best not to panic, I paced around the hall, playing with my fingers. I was left alone, and I didn't like that feeling; that monster that was terrorizing us could come at me anytime.

"Holy shit," I shrieked when I heard a loud thud. Thankfully, it was just Taehyung, and he had found a crowbar. "What took you so long?" I asked, relief washing over me, seeing him safe and sound. I had a bad feeling about it, yet it was only my paranoid suspicion.

"I returned in a speed of light, babe." Taehyung snickered, sending shivers down my spine.

Babe?

Oh, no. Taehyung exclusively called me kitten. He knew how much it annoyed me, he'd not change the pet name; at least, not until it grew on me.

It wasn't him anymore.

Taehyung was gone, and I was, now, face to face with a parasite that lived off him. I was scared beyond common sense, and I had no idea what to do. However, I had to figure something out real quick unless I wanted to be discovered.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, I'm just really scared, you know," I spoke, trying to sound natural. My hands were trembling, all covered in sweat, yet thankfully, my voice didn't break. "Are you ready to get the hell out of here?" I asked, smiling, as I reached for the crowbar.

"Are we really going to leave them behind?" Taehyung asked, as I turned on my heels, facing the doors. With my eyes tightly closed, I bit on my bottom lip, feeling the copper on my tongue. I had to be cautious with my words. I couldn't get busted.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine. Namjoon will pick them up at dawn, and we wait for him outside," I explained, tightening my grip on the crowbar.

"I guess that's reasonable—" Taehyung replied, but before he managed to finish his sentence, I swung the crowbar, and hit him in the head. The blow wasn't powerful enough to kill Taehyung, yet it was sufficient to knock him down. A thin stream of blood seeped from his head, but I didn't worry that much about him, being sure he was going to be alright.

"Shit," I cursed the second lights started flickering.

Using all my strength, I tried to break the doors down with the crowbar, but they didn't even budge. Desperately, I looked around, thinking of another escape way. A broken window had to suffice right now. Even if I was about to break my leg, I wouldn't stand another minute in this fucked up house.

Quickly, I swung my hand, shattering the glass into a million pieces. While clearing the sharp pieces from the frame, I heard a quiet groan. Immediately, I turned around and saw Taehyung who tried to raise his head.

"Careful," I warned him, as I approached him and crouched by his side.

"What the hell happened?" He asked, when he touched his head, wiping the blood off his forehead. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

"I'll explain later," I announced, helping Taehyung to stand up. "We have no time, Tae. I smashed the window, we're getting out of here." He nodded his head before I helped him walk to the window. "You go first."

Taehyung wanted to argue with me, but he couldn't do anything to change my mind. He was wounded, and although it wasn't anything serious, I was still going to force him out of the window if he wouldn't jump out willingly. Nothing would convince me, so he better complied with me.

"Quickly," I urged him, when Taehyung swung his legs over the frame.

"Come on, kitten," Taehyung spoke, waiting for me to join him outside. Shooting one last glance at the interior, I heaved a sigh, and squeezed through the window, landing on my feet beside Taehyung.

Naturally, he entwined his hands with mine, and we jogged away from the house, pressing our backs against the side of his car, slowly sliding down onto the ground. We were both panting, our breaths slowly evening.

"It's 4 o'clock," I stated, as I looked at my phone, "I should probably call Namjoon, but given that the house is packed with cameras, he's already on his way over here."

"Yeah, with a fucking exorcist," Taehyung added and laughed loudly in relief. "What are you doing next weekend?"

I giggled before I turned to look at his face, "I was going to throw an amazing birthday party, but right now, I think I'm gonna treat myself. I fucking deserve it." I uttered, and Taehyung nodded his head, comprehending my words. "Why?"

"I'm gonna intrude that little celebration." Taehyung announced, and I smiled at his bold words.

"Please do."

#taehyung smut #v smut #bts smut #taehyung x reader #v x reader #bts fanfiction #bangtan #bangtan smut #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfic #v fanfiction #v fanfic #v scenario #taehyung angst #v angst #bts angst #bangtan angst #bts halloween #bts halloween special

[vixxscifiwritings]

you can be alice, i’ll be the mad hatter(5/?)

Characters - Cha Hakyeon/N and Y/N + VIXX Genre - Supernatural/Fantasy AU - Mutants AU Warning - Drug use, mental illness A/N - I have no idea if I am doing this right or wrong. Summary - Cha Hakyeon is a man mired in mystery and the enigma draws in unsuspecting victims like fires drew in moths.

Find all chapters here

“Cha Hakyeon?”

The man being addressed gave no indication to having heard you call his name. He didn’t bother with acknowledgements, instead choosing to swing the cradle and put it back in motion.

He was dressed in a bodysuit but his limbs were free. Probably a result of whatever they had done to restrain his powers. his actions were sluggish as well, as if trying to focus but unable to because of bodily constraints.

You took a look at the camera on the top right corner of the opposite wall. You took in a deep breath, nodding to yourself before walking to the other chair. You sat down and cleared your throat again, hoping to catch his attention. 

Hakyeon didn’t respond. He stretched his hands and yawned but his eyes never strayed from the swinging metal balls. He rubbed his chin, amused at the prickly four o clock shadow of a stubble that was growing. He ran his finger across his jaw and pushed his bangs up. His hair was short and unkempt. It stayed up and didn’t fall back down on his forehead while he continued playing.

You stuck your hand out and the balls swerved before coming to a halt. Hakyeon looked up, glared at you in an accusatory manner.

“It would be faster to comply with the standard procedure Mr Cha? I would be out of your hair quicker” you said serenely, refusing to move your hand and let the toy move.

His glare intensified. He frowned in disapproval as if a parent was chiding an impudent child wordlessly. It unsettled you a little because you were the doctor and you were expected to be in charge of the situation here. But you could already feel it slipping out of your hands.

“Doctor... Y/L/N...” he said thoughtfully. 

“Yes?” you asked. breathing a little faster due to your quickened heartbeat. 

“Your name. You knew mine. It was only fair that I know yours” he said, licking his lips. 

“Fair enough. My name is Y/N Y/L/N” you acknowledged and introduced yourself. His lips curled up into a smirk.

“Tell me doctor, what will you ask that’s different from what they have already asked?” he asked, leaning back on his chair.

“The truth. I’d like to know what your version of the truth is” you told him. There was a game at play here and you were willing to play it as long as it got you results.

“The first step to tackling a problem is admitting you have it” he said, parodying advert narrators. “I’ve read that in fortune cookies and on cereal box bottoms. You should try again, Doc.”

“I don’t believe there is anything wrong with you. You haven’t displayed any symptoms of PTSD ever since I have walked in” you challenged. He raised an eyebrow. He was intrigued and you took the hint to explain your stance.

“Your hands are steady. So is your breathing. All your triggers have been carefully removed from this environment to minimise exposure and hasten the recovery. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were toying with me because you have no reason to suddenly become deranged” you reasoned. 

A sudden weight had settled in, holding your body in its place. You panicked. He was supposed to be powerless! Yet you knew this was his doing. You had walked into the game unprepared and now you were about to face the consequences of your actions.

“How ever did you know what my triggers are?” he sang, jumping onto the table. he slid, stopping right in front of you so that your frozen body. You heard the guards outside punching in the access code, tiny number keys beeping. Hakyeon waved his hand and blew the circuits in the lock. The fuse went out, sparking the digital lock and jamming it.

“My guess love, is that you have been naughty. They never let the previous psychs read my old reports. So what made you so special?” he asked, leaning in so that you were face to face with him.

“But given how stuck up Song is, I can tell that he didn’t even know you had read something. I like a good rebel. I’ll give you brownie points for that” he said, tracing your jawline with a finger. “And pretty too. You are a deadly combination love” he added as an afterthought.

“So what will your diagnosis be?” he asked, tilting your chin up to maintain eye contact as he moved out of your personal space. “Are you finally going to declare me criminally insane? That’s all we need to put Project Phoenix into action isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the camera with a sinister smile on his face.

“Well here is your proof” he said, jumping off the table and raising his hands up in mock surrender. You gasped as the force holding you down lifted and you could finally move. 

“Is that...” you wheezed, holding onto the table to breathe. “Is that why you lied and pretended to be suffering from mental illnesses? Just so you could die easily?” you asked, taking deep breathes in between phrases.

“Oh don’t you know Doctor? The kind of things the Excelsis Unit saw and did would have taken lesser men down” Hakyeon mocked. 

“Then why?” you asked, gaining enough strength to stand and face him. The two of you stared each other down. the door blew open and Hakyeon pulled you down for cover. His hold on you was strong as he pushed you to the floor to shield you from the debris flying while he built a force field around the two of you. The glass and metal deflected and fell to the ground shattering as it did.

He was pulled away from you while Yunho helped you stand up. Commander Song followed the guards in, yelling at people to take Hakyeon under control.

“You see love, it doesn’t matter if I want to live or die. A soldier only serves his government dutifully” Hakyeon spat as three men held him and forced him down to the ground with his hands behind his back.

“Is that Project Phoenix?” you asked, remembering the argument earlier.

“Aren’t you smart, love” Hakyeon smiled as he was led away. 

“Doctor Y/L/N. I am afraid I will have to take you into custody for accused tampering of confidential records. Yunho, take her to the holding cells” Commander Song ordered.

“What is Project Phoenix?” you demanded, struggling against Yunho who was too strong for you.

“None of your business Doctor. As of this moment, you are off the case. You have been stripped of all access privileges and under investigation for charges of treason.”

#vixx n #vixx fanfiction #mutants au #dark psychological #multi chapter fic

[scribefindegil]

Cycle Eight--Week 3

[Ao3]  [Week 1] [Week 2]

Day 15

Went into the forest again today. This time Barry and Nita both came with us, with Nita levitating over the mushrooms. Barry has been examining the forest from the village, but this is his first time out into it. It was good to have him there and to confirm my own suspicions: while many of these mushrooms superficially resemble flora from home, every biological and magical test he subjected them to confirmed that they were different from the native fungi of our own reality—and of this one.

Nita and Frelya merely shrugged when we asked them how the mushrooms had arrived on this world. It is past living memory, even for the longest-lived of the surviving races. There are only the vaguest legends. Some say it was a great spell gone wrong. Some say it was a comet of ill-omen that streaked across the sky and brought the first Keepers with it. Some say that the Keepers were already living in stone prisons deep below the Earth, and it was only a matter of time before they awoke.

"Doesn't matter," Frelya said, and grunted.

Nita shook her head and smiled at me. "Of course it does!"

She told us the names that the villagers use for the mushrooms. Most of them don't care much; all of the forest is deadly, so it doesn't matter if you call the blue parts and the red parts something different. But the herbalists care.

(The next several pages are filled with exactingly labelled pen-and-ink drawings with small color swatches next to them. Some of the drawings also have additional notes in a different, heavier hand.)

Dangerous as the forest is, the people of Fungston are forced to rely upon it for many things. Nita explained which mushrooms can be dried, cleaned of spores, and used as material for anything from the canes she uses to the walls of their houses. The universal veils can be washed and hardened and turned into the tough, thick fabric that the villagers wear. Certain species can be cut into thin strips and spun together to make a sturdy rope that is then cured on racks above the bonfires.

"You're extremely resourceful out here," Barry said admiringly.

Nita shrugged. "We do what we have to. If we weren't resourceful we'd all be dead."

It's true, although I don't think we're used to hearing it so bluntly.

Barry took samples from several of the mushrooms and was discouraged from taking them from others. There's one pale species that produces beads of ruby-red sap that burn like acid, which ate through his container almost before Nita could warn him away.

"Be careful of that one," she said, speaking to Barry but looking at me. "We call it Miser's Blood. It can burn through your mask before you realize anything's wrong."

Barry backed carefully away, apologized to the mushroom for disturbing it, blushed, and then tripped over his own feet. Fortunately he didn't land in anything dangerous, but we did take it as a sign that we had probably done enough exploring for the day.

Day 16

We have all been recruited into assisting with the movement of the bonfires. It is a gradual process: first the inner ring is put out and new fires are built around the outer periphery. The plan is to maintain those for a few days to ensure that the scorch teams can keep the forest back around a wider perimeter even without Lup's evocation magic assisting them.

It means that we have to burn some of Merle's green sward, which the villagers were upset by at first. But today Merle was up uncharacteristically early, sitting in the center of town. He said it was too early for singing, but he poured out two portions of his breakfast tea—one for himself and one on the ground for Pan.

Merle knows all the traditional services. I've seen him use them more than once, but more often when he talks to his god he goes off on rambles that sound more as if they were directed at a beloved but ornery relative.

"Now Pan, I know this is a tough situation, but can you help a brother out here? You saw how much these people loved those little plants you helped me grow, so I'm thinking maybe we can get you a congregation going here. What do you think? Got a problem being the god of a weird mushroom world? Yeah, I didn't think so."

As he talks, plants and flowers grow around his feet.

It's certainly not traditional, but I feel that the people of Fungston could do far worse when it comes to spiritual leaders.

The villagers began to emerge from their houses—some with curiosity, some with frightened squeaks. They're still (I say still and betray my own prejudices. There’s no way that a few days would make a difference after a lifetime) unused to wild plants that aren't somehow sinister, so when the shoots emerge through the ground their first instinct is to draw away. But soon they see that what Merle grows will not hurt them.

The entire circle between the first circle of bonfires is green.

It made it easier to move the first circle outward. We worked all day. Lup helped to rekindle the new bonfires, since she's agreed not to go out with the scorch teams for a few days so they can test their efficacy against these new borders. Magnus enjoyed excavating the new fire pits—it gave him an excuse to show off his strength, and of course the villagers were duly impressed. Taako decided to take advantage of the Starblaster's larder and surprised everyone after dinner with trays of tiny star-shaped cookies. There were enough that all the villagers could eat their fill. They're amazed at the concept of flour, which they’ve never seen before—who knows how long it's been since this world could grow wheat?

Day 17

We've begun to make plans for the expedition. Captain Davenport called a meeting, moderated by Merle, to discuss what we need to do to prepare. The biggest problem is how much world we have to explore. Lup and Barry have been trying to find ways to track the Light, but so far they have no definite answers. We know that if a civilization takes in the Light of Creation it tends to spur them to new heights of science and creativity, and sometimes we can use that knowledge to determine its location. But on this world, the chances of it landing somewhere where people can find it are slim. We'll be looking for a needle in a deadly, glowing haystack.

It could well take our entire time on this planet to locate the light, if we do so at all. Mico tells us that the forest outside the borders of the town is actually quite sparse compared to the deeper groves that lie to the South. The Starblaster will take us part of the way, but most of the journey will have to be done on foot.

We have left the final determination of who will be going on the mission for a later date. Magnus intends to lead it, and Davenport will go along and stay with the ship. I have volunteered to go as well. We won't be leaving for at least several more weeks. It's not long enough to gather all the stories I want to tell from this village--it never is--but I should be able to talk to more of the citizens. Those who were shy at first have begun warming up to us. Their eyes are brighter now, and I think they are smiling below their masks. Merle and Lup together have given them hope.

And this mission--it is a story, too. All stories deserve to be told but my first duty is always to the mission and the crew. I hope that, eventually, someone else will read what I have written and remember us. I hope that, eventually, this is a story of a mission that was completed. Of a world that was truly saved. But until then, all I can do is write.

Mico tells us that the "rainy season" is coming, and we would do well to delay our departure until afterwards. As it has been raining nearly non-stop since our arrival, I hesitate to think what sort of weather is approaching that would be so much worse. Mico shook their head when they spoke of it. It's a dangerous time, they said, the time of year when the village is most likely to lose people. Most likely to be lost itself.

"We won't let that happen," said Magnus, and the rest of us nodded.

Day 18

I spent today among the weavers, trying to get them to explain their processes or other stories of the town, but came away with very little. They're extremely polite and not what I would call tight-lipped, but they want to hear stories, not tell them. I suppose it's understandable; to them this way of life is everything they know, but our crew descended from the stars. They want to know about our home. It pains me to tell them. It's been seven years since we left. Seven years since we lost our home.

I don't have a journal about that world. Rather, I had many. The biographies I wrote or ghost-wrote. The piles of blue leather volumes I bound and filled with the stories of other people's lives. But those remained planetside. There was no reason to bring them--no reason to suspect that the seven of us would be the last survivors of our reality.

But I still have notes. Stories. Songs. When we have time, I still ask the others. Magnus is the most eager to talk. He's younger even than I am, and than I was. He should be twenty-eight years old by now, but every time we enter a new set of Planes he returns to the round, boyish face of a man barely out of adolescence. I wonder if the pride he takes in his sideburns is at least in part because they make him look older. It was important at the beginning because he really was so young, and it's important now because he isn't.

I brought a pile of my books out from the Starblaster. They are the right-handed copies, with writing that is slightly less smooth. The backups. If something happens to them, the first copies will still be safe on the ship. So I brought them out and read from them. Showed the villagers the sketches I'd done of our lilac sky with the two suns, of our trees and our clothes and our cities.

They muttered and nudged each other at the images of people going about their daily lives with no masks on, stared at the drawings of trees in disbelief.

"You just . . ." Jarrus asked. "You can just breathe?"

I nodded, and the look on her face broke my heart.

"Do you remember?" I asked. "Do any of you know stories about what it was like before the mushrooms came?"

They all shook their heads, and Riki, a halfling with pale eyes and a particularly long trunk-like mask, said, "I reckon there never was a before. They say there was, but some of 'em also say there'll be an after. And that's just mad. 'Slike you people coming in here, all mad with hope. It's not going to get better. Don't think it ever was."

"That's not true," Jarrus said. "My grandmother's mother was part of the first generation born in the village. And she told my grandmother, and she told me, that things used to be different. You used to be able to see the stars. You used to breathe free. But you know what? When they first came, the prophets said that the mushrooms and the Keepers would end the world, that it was the end of everything and no one would survive. But we did. We don't have much but we're still here, and I don't know about the rest of you but I'm going to hope that some day my daughter or her children or their children will be able to look back and say, 'We survived. We survived and we won and those damn Keepers still haven't beaten us.' Maybe they won't need these masks. Maybe they'll see the stars again."

Such speeches are uncharacteristic—for any of the villagers, but especially for the usually taciturn Jarrus. Riki refused to meet her eyes and went back to his weaving.

Soon afterwards, Vetch ran over to tell us it was time for dinner. Jarrus caught her up and pressed their foreheads together. It's a common greeting here among loved ones, perhaps an alternative to kissing since the lower halves of their faces are always covered by their masks.

The hymn to send off the scorch teams gets fuller every night. The entire village knows the song by heart and sings along. Tonight, Magnus and Barry attempted the baritone harmony. Their voices are enthusiastic if not always in tune, but I heard gasps from around me. Vetch watched the teams roll out from her favorite perch on Magnus’s shoulders, and when she ran back to her mother afterwards I saw that Jarrus was crying.

Day 19

(The first several pages of this entry consist of watercolor paintings of mushrooms. They are more brightly colored than the previous paintings. Notes to the side of the images read, ‘Pigment help from Barry and Lup. Red and yellow magically derived, others adapted from the distilled juice of the mushrooms’)

The new town border remains stable. The center of town remains green. To Captain Davenport’s chagrin, there are vines growing around the Starblaster, but none of them go near the engines so he can’t yet claim that they’re a safety hazard.

Spent another day in the forest with Frelya. My sketches are now nearly true to color, thanks to the scientific expertise of my crewmates.

As we were walking back, Frelya stopped shortly outside the first set of bonfires.

“I . . . haven’t asked for anything in exchange for taking you out here,” she said.

“I know,” I replied.

She turned and thrust an extra mask into my hands. One of the bulbous ones, made from the cured and waterproofed universal veils.

“Use your paints,” she said. “Make it . . . brighter.”

It make take more consultation before I can find a medium that will adhere to the mask’s material, but I know how I will be spending tomorrow.

Day 20

Have spent the day in painting and experimentation with Barry. The slick surface of the veil-cloth resists my standard preparations. If I knew less about the material I would be tempted to sand it to give quill and brush more tooth, but even though the process of curing it kills the spores I know better than to risk it.

It is refreshing to work on the ship and be able, at least for a while, to remove our own masks. It’s air-tight inside—as something designed to travel between realities should be—and we’ve established a system of knocks and small blockades to make sure no one opens the door to the outside when we aren’t expecting it.

It is strange how quickly we adapt. For our first few days in Fungston the constant presence of the mask was almost intolerable, but I find that I’ve become so used to it that going without makes me feel strange and vulnerable. Despite how little sunlight makes it through the clouds, Barry has a line running across the bridge of his nose with paler, sun-starved skin beneath it.

(The rest of the page is a careful experimental table of substrates and additives. Glued in next to it are narrow strips of thick, waxy cloth. All of them have been painted green. Most of the paint is chipped and flaking; some is translucent and uneven; some is discolored and has bit into the cloth. On the final strip, the paint is vibrant and flexes with the cloth when you move it. Around it are scribbled words in a circle: “Huzzah!” and its synonyms in Elvish, Dwarfish, and Draconic, as well as words in several other languages you don’t recognize but assume from context are further exclamations of excitement.)

Day 21

It took most of the day and most of the night before we found a medium that would work. Lup brought us coffee and laughed about how silly it is that humans need to sleep. It reminded me of our time back at the Institute. I still hope to find something readily available on this planet, but for now we rely on transmutation magic and egg-yolk tempera.

I suspect Lup of casting Sleep on the two of us shortly thereafter. She refuses to admit to it, but doesn’t deny it either. Bolstered by the excitement of our discovery, I had planned to stay awake through the remainder of the night and make some progress with the painting, but the next thing I knew Barry and I were both raising our heads from the table, having missed breakfast and made a spirited effort at missing lunch.

The twins were in the kitchen, and as soon as they saw us stirring they grinned and descended on us with two massive omelets, doubtless made from some of the unused experimental eggs.

I spent the rest of the day painting. I finished in time to meet Frelya as she returned from scorch team duty. She took the mask, now covered in images of delicate flowers and intertwining vines worked over a field of tiny truesilver stars, and turned it over and over in her hands. She was silent for a full minute.

“Thank you,” she said at last. “You’re . . . a real weirdo, but I don’t mind taking you to look at mushrooms.”

#araxie writes #Magnus rushes in! #cycle eight