#(which i say as someone who has made SEVERAL and hates the process furiously)

[irisbaggins]

Trying to trouble-shoot a customer over a phone is always an exercise in "stick to Norwegian you gremlin" for me. I so badly want to use English lingo for things, but my poor customers barely understand what I'm saying in Norwegian, let alone English! The amount of times I end up apologising because my explanations are shit are numerous, and most of the time my customers are really nice about it.

Although, I do loathe having to trouble-shoot networking over the phone. It's a pain in the ass, and it's difficult to find the problem when there are so many moving parts to a network.

At least the customer and I can joke around a little and make the process more pleasant for the both of us. Especially when the problem may have been a wonky cable, and not something much more expensive that must be replaced.

[lightwise]

Since my blog started out with a Phee analysis, I almost thought about making a breakdown of this scene but I’m glad you both posted this so I can just throw in a few thoughts here.

*disclaimer I am aware that this scene made some people uncomfortable and anyone has every right to feel that way, especially with how they chose to depict this scene. The first time I watched it, it felt so realistic to me from Tech’s perspective. Then I felt uncomfortable at Phee’s overstepping his boundaries compared to the more gentle ways she does in previous episodes. And now I’ve come back around to the middle.

There’s two parts to this scene actually. Well, three. The first is Omega and Phee saying goodbye. Omega tells her they’re on a secret mission but of course doesn’t explain what. Phee wisely doesn’t pressure her to share and just tells her goodbye, and Omega gazes up at her with a face not unlike the adoration she uses for her brothers, especially Echo. In other words, it felt like Omega feels like Phee is already family, on some level. Or at least very close to them all. I think this is meant to both set the scene and contrast to the next interaction.

Phee then comes to the ship to talk to Tech, who is interestingly standing beside the ramp, without his armor on (which so far this season has been a symbol of vulnerability), furiously keeping his head buried in his data pad. He doesn’t walk back into the ship even though he clearly doesn’t want to talk. While this is in character for him in general, I think there’s a deep level of, as you said @heyclickadee, SO MUCH going on in his head right now that Phee literally is a topic that his brain cannot wrap itself around or engage with in this moment. On top of the ways his brain processes regular conversation, and then conversation with someone he might have an interest in, and then goodbyes (all of which he has increasing difficulty with), he is in soldier mode. He is preparing for a mission that he knows he might not come back from. He uses the word debriefing with her and I think that shows that he is in full “work mode” (I hate to call it that bc it’s not strong enough but it’s all I’ve got right now). I know from experience both with myself and others that it can be incredibly hard to shift one’s brain from one mode of interaction to another even with close family members without some level of miscommunication or tension. And this is the most emotionally heightened and dangerous mission they’ve ever undertaken. He also seems to make it clear that he has thought this through and deliberately didn’t want to tell her goodbye, and I’d like to think this was both for his own sake but also hers, both emotionally and for her safety.

For Phee’s part, she is a little over reactive at first, and pushing the data pad down still makes me cringe. But, her voice becomes soft after that and she is trying her hardest to let Tech know several things—that she cares about what’s happening with them, that she wants to continue their dynamic when they get back, and that she doesn’t want him to consider starting something with anyone else (her trying to lighten the mood with a joke, though obviously Tech is in no headspace to absorb it). She may not be communicating well but she is trying to respond to what she thinks Tech is presenting her. They both in very different ways are showing they care.

And the end of this scene is what proves that to me. Phee finally relents and walks away. After spending the whole scene avoiding her gaze both with his eyes/face and his whole body, Tech immediately turns, straightens up, and stares after her for a long time. And his face has at least twenty emotions passing over it as he watches her go, similar to when he and Omega have their conversation in the cave. Even when he turns and walks up the ramp, he’s in no hurry. It’s almost like he’s thinking through everything that couldn’t make it past his mouth, everything that might have been said, everything that might have happened between them.

While the writers could have made Phee less abrasive in this scene, I think it really does highlight their differences, some of the things that if they had a future together they would need to work through, and also that in spite of that there is a clear level of care between the two of them that is reciprocal even if not well handled in this moment. The writers have made Tech so nuanced in his portrayal so far that I refuse to believe that they didn’t know what they were doing with this scene or wanted to paint Phee as being right and Tech being wrong. As Dee said at Celebration, it’s an unresolved, unconscious, uncomfortable goodbye. And that is a very realistic thing for them to decide to show.

(Also @heyclickadee in reading this back over I realized I basically paraphrased half of what you said…what can I say, you always make good points 😬😂).

As an autistic person I really like Phee/Tech as an allistic/autistic ship (ofc Phee might be neurodivergent in some way but we haven’t seen enough of her to know), I appreciate the way she communicates with him but backs off when it’s clear he’s uncomfortable 

[shin-city]

Damage Control [Katsuki Bakugo x Reader]

pairing: prohero!bakugo x sidekick!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

word count: 3.7K

tags: sexual content, oral sex (female & male receiving), praise kink, semi-public sex

a/n: well that’s one way to overcome your fear of elevators

~

“Fifty-thousand dollars in damages!” you reiterated to the fiery man in front of you, who made no effort to mask his indifference towards what you were saying to him. He didn’t even bother looking at you until you’d thrown the invoice from the city on his desk, offering you a stale, blank stare. That look usually served as your warning that you were on thin ice, but you were too agitated to heed it.

“Are you even listening to me right now, Bakugo?”

The blonde rolled his eyes before setting his brows into that signature frown. “It’d be damn hard not to with all the yelling you’re doing.”

You let out a sardonic laugh, not believing that him of all people had a problem with yelling. Working with him for so long was the reason you even yelled so much in the first place. “Well, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Bakugo grunted lowly, glaring as you chastised him. He hated when you reprimanded him like this. He hadn’t put in all of that hard work over the years to become a pro hero, just to have to answer to others for his actions. Especially you- his sidekick. While he didn’t treat you as his lesser just because of your title (not as much as he used to, anyways), he still expected you to treat and speak to him respectfully.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” he scoffed. “Just send the invoice to All Might; he’ll take care of it. He always does.”

“We can’t just keep expecting him to cover the costs of you being irresponsible. And even if we could, it isn’t just about the money. It doesn’t look good. What if you get in trouble with the Hero Public Safety Commission? What if your hero ranking goes down, or worse- you get demoted entire-”

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he slammed a fist on his desk to shut you up, your body jumping and your eyes widening consequently. He didn’t mean to startle you so much, but he did relish in the submissive way you looked at him as a result.

“Do I pay you to bitch at me about how I look to the public?” he challenged.

You blinked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“Pay me? You don’t pay me anything! I’m your sidekick, not your publicist.”

“Exactly,” he retorted. “So why don’t you quit acting like one, and leave it to the people who are supposed to handle it- like a good little sidekick.”

This particular comment had you fuming, and he could tell as you stood there with your arms crossed and a frown on your flushing face.

Cute, he thought, before dismissing the rumination.

“My quirk is explosion,” Bakugo continued. “Shit is going to get blown up. If you don’t like it, then maybe you should’ve applied to work under a different hero. There are plenty of sidekicks who would kill for the opportunity to be where you are right now.”

He was only bluffing. He’d never say it to you, or even himself, but Bakugo wouldn’t want you working with another hero; nor would he want to work with another sidekick. His hero office had plenty, and yet he chose you. He always chose you. Though, clearly you weren’t confident in his loyalty to you, because his words had tugged at your heartstrings more than he intended.

It wasn’t like you only cared about how he looked to the public. You cared about him in general, which was why you were so hard on him about things like this, but clearly he didn’t realize that.

“M-maybe I should’ve!” you snapped, desperately hoping that he hadn’t seen the glint of moisture in your eyes. “I would’ve taken Izuku up on his offer if I’d known you’d be so difficult to work with!”

Bakugo blinked at you, his head tilting to one side as he registered what you’d said. Midoriya had asked you to be his sidekick after graduating from UA, and several more times after that. You’d never mentioned this to Bakugo before, and you were smart not to. Anything that had to do with your green-haired friend triggered Bakugo to some extent; which was why saying that was the perfect ammunition to retaliate his comment- even if you didn’t realize it.

“What the hell do you mean you would’ve ‘taken Izuku up on his offer’!” he called after you, but you were already turning on your heels, storming out of his office and toward the elevator. You hated taking the elevator, and on any other day you would’ve taken the stairs; but at that moment you needed to get as far away from Katsuki Bakugo as fast as you could. You weren’t sure you’d be able to live with yourself if he saw you cry.

Over the pattering of your rushed footsteps, you hadn’t even heard him exit his office in pursuit of you. All you were focused on was getting out of there, and you were grateful that the elevator was already there on the fifth floor when you pushed the button to summon it. You wiped a stray tear from your eye as you stepped in, pressing the ‘1’ button, followed by the button used to close the doors; but they only managed to close halfway before a hand appeared between them, halting the process.

Before you knew it, an irate Bakugo was stalking into the elevator. He glowered at you as the doors shut behind him, though his expression eased when he noticed the tears that threatened to spill onto your cheeks.

“H-hey...why the hell are you crying?!” Bakugo stared at you incredulously, not believing the sight in front of him. He’d never seen you cry before.

You wiped furiously at your eyes, turning your back toward him as you did so. You made no effort to respond to him, especially once the elevator finally started moving. He frowned as you ignored him, glancing at the elevator’s digital display of what floor you were on. He watched anxiously as the numbers passed.

4...

3...

2...

 He couldn’t let you get to the first floor. He worried that if you left in this state, you might not come back. Or worse: you’d go running to Deku. He couldn’t have that.

Bakugo clenched his hand into a tight fist and before he could stop himself he was punching through the control panel of the elevator, ripping out some of the wires as he retracted his fist. The elevator immediately screeched to a halt, stopping just between the second and first floors. He turned to face you, who was now looking at him with sheer panic etched on your features. You were scared enough of elevators already, and this was like a nightmare come true.

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” you yelled as the ominous sparking of the control panel died down.

“Have you? What’s with all...this? Over an invoice?” he matched your tone, gesturing wildly at your distressed state.

You exhaled an exasperated sigh, shaking your head at him. “You don’t get it, do you? It isn’t just about the invoice.”

Bakugo took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down for your sake. He knew he could be difficult to talk to at times and he didn’t want to say anything that might scare you off. Though, it wasn’t like you could go anywhere anyways. “I don’t. Tell me so that I can fix it.”

You gave him a quizzical look, perplexed at the sudden decline in the volume of his voice. It almost made you want to give in and tell him what was on your mind but in fear of inciting another argument, you decided against it. Besides, you were now focused on the illusory feeling of the elevator walls closing in on you. You stood in the corner farthest from Bakugo, trying to increase the distance between you two. He noticed this and began to slowly creep toward you.

“Y/N.”

His firm tone coupled with his intense gaze had butterflies erupting in your stomach; of course now of all times.

“It doesn’t matter,” you uttered. “Could you please just get us out of here?”

“Is it what I said about you working with another hero?” he asked, completely ignoring your request but hitting the nail right on the head.

You didn’t answer him, instead crossing your arms and staring at the floor. Your body language was more than enough to confirm that he was correct, though, and he took one more step to close the gap between you. His close proximity had your head reeling as his scent enveloped you; it was almost comforting. You were so caught up in it that you hadn’t even noticed his hand cautiously reaching toward your face until he was already gripping your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

“Answer me.”

You let out a shaky breath as your eyes met his. Bakugo had never touched or looked at you like this before. Yes, he was frowning as usual; but it was out of concern instead of anger. The expression softened once you nodded, answering what he already knew. Still, his fingers never left your face.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he grumbled. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Do I?” you retorted, cursing yourself as your voice broke. “You think I don’t already know how expendable I am? How easy it’d be for you to replace me? You don’t have to throw it in my face.”

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I’m sorry for always nagging. I’m sorry for caring. But if you don’t, someone has to, Bakugo,” you vented. “If we’re even close enough for me to call you that. Sometimes I feel like I should just address you as Ground Zero like everyone el-”

Bakugo’s grip on your chin tightened before he pressed his lips to yours, his other hand moving to the wall to support his weight as he leaned into you. You were far too stunned to kiss him back, but that was to be expected. The man in question had never even shook your hand before, let alone kissed you. He broke the kiss shortly thereafter, pressing his forehead against yours as his breath fanned over your lips.

“Don’t. Don’t ever stop calling me by my name,” he articulated, pulling away a little to gaze into your eyes and make sure you understood how serious he was. “You hear me? I’ll always be Bakugo to you. I don’t give a fuck what everyone else calls me. You’re not everyone else. I...just wanna hear you say my name.”

Your eyes began to tear up again, but this time out of relief. This was all you ever wanted from him: to act like he cared. To show you that he cared, and that you were more than just a sidekick to him.

You bit your quivering lip, nodding as you looked up at him. You meant to keep eye contact, but your gaze dropped to his lips. You desperately wanted him to kiss you again, and you weren’t doing the best job at hiding it.

Bakugo chuckled and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. He wanted to do much more, but not before making sure that he’d made things right with you. “I’m...sorry, okay?”

As simple as it was, his apology meant the world to you; especially since he wasn’t exactly known to be someone who ever apologized. It was actually quite humorous.

“You’re sorry?” you quizzed, stifling a laugh.

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted playfully before pressing his lips to yours again.

If someone told you just a few minutes before now that you’d be kissing Kastuki Bakugo, you’d have thought they were severely deluded. But you couldn’t deny how right it felt.

He caressed your cheek and lowered his other hand to your waist, clutching it softly. He was so delicate with you, touching you as though you’d break if he didn’t restrain himself. It was such a strange contrast to how he usually was, but you didn’t mind one bit.

“Bakugo,” you whimpered into his lips as you clutched his shirt, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth as a response.

He groaned lowly into the kiss as your tongues danced. You slipped your fingers underneath the material of his tank top, raking them along his soft abs and relishing in the warmth of his skin. He decided to match your pace, dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing it with much less caution than he’d touched you before.

His lips left yours, pecking them once more before attaching them to your neck. Your small moans were music to his ears as his tongue laved at your throat.

“I want you-” he groaned into your skin. “-need you.”

He hooked his fingers into the loops of your jeans, pulling your hips into his. And after feeling what pressed up against your thigh, it became very evident just how much he needed you.

“I’m yours, Bakugo. Please.” You sighed as he rolled his hips against you: so tantalizingly slow.

He kissed his way back up your neck, across your jaw and to your lips, kissing you once before gripping the hem of your top. He dragged the material up, your arms automatically raising to aid him in removing the garment. He was grateful that you’d forgone wearing your costume that day, knowing it’d be a pain in the ass to remove; though he’d worn his, save for the mask, gloves and grenades.

His rough hands slid up your torso and cupped your breasts through the material of your bra briefly before reaching around to unclasp it. He threw it to the ground before reaching for you again, calloused fingers tweaking your hardening nipples.

You grew exponentially wetter when he enclosed his lips around one, his fingers tugging at the other, and then alternating. He did this back and forth until you were a whining mess.

“Katsuki,” you mewled, subconsciously grinding your hips into his. “Please touch me.”

“Aren’t I?” he murmured into your chest, and you could feel his smirk. Though, he didn’t torture you for long, dropping his hand to the waist of your jeans and undoing them. He lowered himself onto his knees as he dragged them down your legs before throwing them atop the pile of discarded clothes. Your panties were torn off before joining the pile.

You squirmed as Bakugo’s eyes raked your naked body; his mind memorizing every inch in case this was the last time you’d ever let him see you like this (though he was confident it wouldn’t be). He traced his fingers up the length of your leg before gripping your thigh and lifting it to hook your leg over his shoulder.

“So pretty,” he breathed as he looked up at you, eyes lowering to meet your dripping core. “Even down here.”

Your mouth fell open as he flattened his tongue against your core, groaning as he tasted you. You whimpered as he licked you slowly, stopping to kiss your folds every so often before increasing his pace, devouring you like his life depended on it. You entangled your fingers in his hair, alternating between pulling at his roots and rubbing circles into his scalp.

He’d grunt every time you tugged particularly hard, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel heavenly against your clit.

“Bakugo~” you moaned out once he sucked harshly, sensing that you were already almost there. “Ngh- feels so good. So close...”

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my mouth, princess?” He pushed his tongue into your cunt, burying his face between your thighs as he pressed his thumb against your clit and rubbed circles into the swollen bud.

“Oh my god, yes,” you squeaked, fingernails scratching at his scalp as you neared you’re release. “Coming!”

Bakugo growled into your pussy as you came, the vibrations from his mouth intensifying the sensation tenfold. He watched in awe and adoration while you writhed above him, licking you clean. Once you came down, he rose to his feet, kissing you to allow you to taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

He pulled away to hastily undo his harnesses, pulling off his shirt in the process. You eyed him hungrily as he stripped. Your mouth practically watered at the sight in front of you. You waited until he reached for the button of his pants, catching his wrist in yours to stop him before sinking to your knees. He panted as you groped him over the fabric, rolling his erection into your palm.

“Off,” he groaned, his hand coming down to rest atop your head. “Take them off.”

You obliged, popping open the button and dragging his pants down to around his thighs. You looked up at him as you pressed your tongue against his shaft over his boxers, causing him tug at your roots.

“D-don’t tease me, dumbass.”

You bit your lip as you hooked your fingers into the band, pulling his underwear down slowly. Your heart rate quickened as you revealed his length, inch by inch as you pulled them down his thighs. He was big; so girthy, and the precum that leaked out of the tip only made him look that much more appetizing.

He hissed as you took him in your hand, pumping his length slowly before licking the head of his cock. You lapped up his arousal before taking him in your mouth and sucking as your tongue swirled around the tip. You quickly grew eager for more, taking him fully into your mouth until you were sputtering around him.

“Shit,” he swore, petting your head. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

Bakugo’s words encouraged you and you began to bob your head up and down his cock, humming around it. He gathered your hair into his fist, pulling it as you deepthroated him.

“Ngh, so good. So fucking good,” he moaned, thrusting into your mouth.

As good as it felt, if there was one place Bakugo wanted to cum more than your mouth: it was inside you. Therefore, as he felt himself nearing his release, he reluctantly pulled out of your mouth, groaning at the sight of the saliva that connected your lips to his cock.

“I need to fuck you now,” he informed you as he pulled you up by your shoulders. “Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

You did as he said, turning to press your hands and face against the wall of the elevator. You chewed your lip in anticipation as you heard him stroke his wet cock behind you before pressing the tip against your folds.

“Katsuki,” you moaned, pushing back against him in a desperate attempt to feel him inside of you. “Please.”

“Please what, princess? What do you want?”

Whimpering as he ground the head of his cock into your clit, you responded. “I want you to- ahh~, fuck me. Please Bakugo.”

You must’ve appeased him, both of his hands coming up to grip your ass and he slowly pushed into you. His name fell from your lips in a long, drawn out moan as he filled you. He stilled once he was entirely in, relishing in the feeling of your warm cunt contracting around him. He could probably cum from that alone.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he commented, pulling out halfway before pushing into you again. He did this over and over until you’d stretched enough to his liking, beginning a steady rhythm as he thrust into you. The elevator filled with the sound of his skin slapping against yours, drowning out your moans. His fingers dug into your hips as he increased his pace, slamming into you as he fucked you.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah,” he moaned out, and you had to grab hold of the elevator railing to steady yourself as he pounded you. “Look at you taking my cock so fucking well. You’re such a good girl.”

Your heart fluttered at his praise, crying out his name as he angled his cock to brush against your g-spot with every thrust. He thrust into you like that just a few times before pulling out of you.

You were about to protest but he spun you around to face him, guiding your arms around his neck and picking you up by the backs of your thighs. He pushed your back against the wall to support you in the new position.

“Wanna see your pretty face when you cum,” he mumbled through clenched teeth, slipping back inside you.

“B-Bakugo,” you whined, finding it difficult to speak with how he was slamming into you. “So close.”

He reached a hand down between you two, rubbing furiously at your clit. “Cum for me, princess. Cum around my cock. Fuck.”

You threw your head back in sheer pleasure as your stomach tightened, digging your nails into his back as you reached your climax. You clenched around him, your pussy getting impossibly tighter as you came around his cock.

Bakugo’s thrusts grew sloppier but quicker, exerting the last of his energy as he finished inside you. Thick ropes of his warm cum painted your insides, filling you up along with his cock. He groaned out your name as he let out the last of it, burying his head in your shoulder as he caught his breath.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments before he pulled out of you and let you down slowly. His cum leaked uncomfortably down your thigh, and suddenly he regretted ruining your panties, wishing he had them to help keep his cum inside of you.

You were caught by surprise when Bakugo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he embraced you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to you once again. “I need you, and...I don’t wanna do this hero shit if I can’t do it with you.”

 “Me neither,” you assured him, softly kissing his shoulder.

*

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah?”

“How are we getting out of here?” you inquired, remembering that you and him had been the only people in the office on that Sunday night.

“Shit.”

~

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 36

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 17.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, psychological torture, mentions injuries/infections, mentions of past abuse ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧  act five ➻ part three

​​​​

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Yeosang offers without missing a beat, and he steps into your space. “That Spectre can’t be trusted enough to be alone with you. It’s bad enough that he’s being left alone right now.”

“Just yesterday you were talking about how much you hate me,” you scoff, turning away from the door to stare him in the eye. “Now you’re wanting to protect my every movement?” A huff of air passes through the man’s lips. For a moment, he refuses to look at you, and you think he’s going to choose to ignore you rather than respond to the question.

“Having Wooyoung speak to me through you put things in perspective a bit,” he admits. He drags his tongue over the front of his teeth, then shifts to face you without resistance this time. “If there is even the slightest chance that your death could negatively affect Wooyoung, I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Don’t worry, I still hate you. I can’t stand you one bit, and I wish that I had a damn guarantee that you getting hurt wouldn’t risk Wooyoung’s safety because I could care less about looking after you on top of all this mess. Besides Wooyoung — he asked me to look after you, and my feelings about you are meaningless compared to what he wants.”

You haven’t had much of an opportunity to think about all the ways in which you and Wooyoung could be connected. While there is no guarantee that harm to you would harm him physically too, Yeosang does have a point. Just the chance is enough to be wary about. The same could be true the other way around in turn — anything they do to Wooyoung could potentially hurt you too, but there is no possible way of confirming that at this point in time. All you can do is wonder whether you will be able to see him and the others when you sleep next, should you even be able to sleep because it doesn’t sound tempting at all after what you just had to go through.

Your dragging hesitance must bother Yeosang to some degree because he huffs out another sigh and steps around you to lead the way out the door. You shift to follow him, stepping forward into the corridor only to run face-first into the Elitist’s back in less than a second. One peek around the curve of his shoulder tells you why he’s stopped so suddenly, and it’s none other than Jongho who stands before the two of you in the hall.

“Oh good, perfect timing. We need everyone to the medbay immediately,” Jongho says with a short nod, looking past Yeosang to give you a glance as well.

“Did something happen?” You ask in response.

“Hongjoong woke up, and he asked to see everyone.”

“He woke up? Why? No, no — how is he up?” Yeosang is the one to begin rambling, and he doesn’t stop there. “There were no signs of changes in his condition. I thought Yunho said it could be another several days before he woke up?”

“I don’t know either honestly.” Jongho brings a hand up to drag his fingers through his hair, pushing the locks off his forehead for a moment before they fall flat against his face again. “I came straight away the second Hongjoong gave the order. I don’t even know what the situation is quite yet.”

“Your conversation will have to wait then,” Yeosang murmurs. The two of you exchange a small nod, although you can’t say you’re too upset about having to postpone the conversation with Jisung.

“Conversation?” Yeosang steps around Jongho as the Berserker asks the question, and you are left to regard each other with confusion while Yeosang starts a path down the corridor.

“I was going to talk with Jisung about some things,” you explain, ducking your head to avoid the look Jongho gives you. It’s not one that causes any discomfort — moreso there is too much sympathy in that expression he wears, too much underlying pity that makes the pit in your gut deepen further. “Later. It’s fine, nothing pressing.”

Jongho reaches a hand out and takes hold of your elbow. The touch is delicate, probably one meant to offer some sort of comfort and nothing more, and that’s exactly what it does. Moments later, you are walking after Yeosang with a much lighter feeling swelling in your chest that you can’t pinpoint or explain.

When the three of you reach the medbay at last, Yunho stands outside the doors, hands close to his chest as he wrings them together without cease.

“Why aren’t you inside with Seonghwa?” Jongho asks upon seeing the healer.

“Hongjoong asked — he asked for a minute alone with Seonghwa.” Yunho blinks furiously as he speaks, and the motion of his hasty blinks is nearly dizzying in its frequency. “Under normal circumstances, Seonghwa would be the one to inform Hongjoong of the situation but… but Seonghwa still refused to speak even after seeing Hongjoong awake. He — what the fuck happened to the two of you during the night?”

You know the question is directed at you, but it still catches you unaware nonetheless. You can do nothing but stare back at him with wide eyes as the words process along with Yunho’s shaken-up disposition.

“I’m not sure,” you mutter. Yunho purses his lips, and a small exasperated sigh slips through, enough to show his annoyance with your answer, but Jongho steps in front of you before the healer can say anything. “I recall having a nightmare of my own but Seonghwa wasn’t there with me — I, no, that’s not — I mean he wasn’t—”

“Seonghwa had a nightmare,” Yeosang interjects, saving you from the moment of panic and from further fumbling with your words. “I managed to coax a bit out of him while you and Jongho were talking with Y/N. He had a dream that he was choking which is why he stopped breathing, and because he was so deep in the nightmare, he couldn’t wake up when Y/N tried to get him up the first time. You ended up startling him out of the nightmare and back into consciousness.” It could be a complete lie on Yeosang’s part, but it is logical and adds up in your mind to make some amount of sense. It saves your ass for certain, and that’s all you could ask for given your awkward and helpless fumbling. Yunho, however, doesn’t seem pleased with the response based on the way he shakes his head.

“That doesn’t add up,” he mutters, arms coming to fold over his chest. “Whatever he was dreaming about had to have been more traumatic than that since he had no other symptoms that lined up with other causes of shock. Trauma is the only logical option given what state he was in. Shock… it’s not just a quick jolt, it’s a critical condition brought on by a sudden drop in blood flow through the body. So trauma, heatstroke, blood loss, allergic reactions, infections, poisoning, burns, those sorts of things. His organs were not getting enough blood or oxygen, but just physically I could not see any sort of physical causes proving that. I can run some poison checks, but that truly wouldn’t make any amount of sense.”

“Even if it was something merely traumatic, what makes you think that he would ever want to talk about it with someone who always seems to want to pick him apart for every decision he’s made in life?” Yeosang levels Yunho with a glare so intense that you can almost feel the spike of tension in the air between them. “He was unresponsive with you for a reason no doubt. Maybe you shouldn’t have criticized him so much for decisions that didn’t involve you.”

“He involved me the second he started complaining about the arrangement betwe—”

“That’s enough,” Jongho cuts in, and he lifts a hand to rest atop Yunho’s arm. “Let’s not get heated right now. I can confirm that the emotional aura coming off Seonghwa’s body was something far beyond even a moderate level of trauma. Just being with Hongjoong in there is already helping some, but it will likely take some time for him to recover.”

“This is the worst possible timing,” Yunho sighs. “With tensions already high and everything… right when we need Hongjoong and Seonghwa the most, things like this have to happen?”

“Hongjoong is up now though, so that won’t be as much of an issue any longer.” Yeosang has a valid point with that one. Although without Seonghwa… you don’t want to have to think about how things would be without Seonghwa in all honesty, and it’s hard enough to even conjure up the smallest of thoughts about it. “Has anyone had eyes on Han?” Jongho is the first to deny it.

“I still feel his aura in the spare room we gave him. He didn’t budge at all during the night prior to the incident happening so I don’t think he’s behind that either.” Jongho’s words are enough to bring an unsteady silence to the four of you. There is nothing that can be said really, and you understand that better than anyone. How could you even try to explain the things you saw in your dream? You aren’t sure what you thought you would say to Jisung either; that was moreso a spur-of-the-moment decision made in a panic, and it’s probably for the better that you don’t go see him now.

“I hate this,” Yunho mutters after the silence grows unbearable. “It’s too quiet without the others here.”

“We should enact a plan soon, especially with Hongjoong up,” Yeosang says back. “Seonghwa won’t want to take a break or any recovery time, so things should be business as usual from now on. Can’t we hurry this along a bit? I doubt anyone is going back to bed soon, so talking with Hongjoong now would be best, no? Discussing plans so we can catch up to the transport ship the others are on?”

“Just a moment, yeah.” Yunho dips into the medbay. When the door slides open, you catch a glimpse of what’s inside, for better or worse. Seonghwa resides on one of the beds, the one closest to the door actually, and Hongjoong is as well, body draped over Seonghwa’s like an extension of the man, It’s not anything inappropriate, nor does it seem to be in the way the smaller captain straddles his hips and clings to his lieutenant like his life depends on it.

Looking at them like this — something close, intimate, calm, peaceful almost — you nearly feel as though you shouldn’t be present. It’s a crawling sensation that spreads to your stomach and chest, eyes trailing over the places where one man meets the other, and if not for looking so intently at the scene before you, you would miss the hefty tear tracks over Seonghwa’s cheeks. One of Hongjoong’s hands curls through Seonghwa’s hair as the other wraps tightly around one of the lieutenant’s.

Hongjoong pulls his hand down from the other man’s head, brushing over the tear-stricken skin of his cheek. He is clearly looking down at the man but Seonghwa doesn’t look back. Instead, he keeps his eyes shut tight with a few tears spilling out the corners. And in the back of your mind, you barely process how much you hate seeing Seonghwa in such a state, broken and crying without relent, and you hate how you seem to be just fine in comparison to him. The two of you were in the same place, suffering the same fate of being put through nightmares, and yet you came out of it because Wooyoung saved you. Did Seonghwa have anyone there to save him?

It is pointless to think of that now, but it’s all that is on your mind as you watch Hongjoong’s lips move with haste, muttering words that must be meant to comfort under his breath. You are too far away to hear it all clearly, although a few words slip in here and there.

“You’re okay… here… we’re here… together, okay? It wasn’t real… trust… I’m here.”

Yunho clears his throat when Hongjoong still doesn’t pull his attention away from Seonghwa, but even that announcement doesn’t cause the captain to budge even a little bit. Instead, he continues his hushed whispers for a few more moments then lifts the hand that is still tangled with Seonghwa’s in a pausing motion.

“We’ll talk more about it later, yeah?” He murmurs a bit louder as he pulls back to glance over in Yunho’s direction. His gaze slips past the healer’s should to find you in an instant, and you duck your chin in a panic, eyes finding the floor. It’s the feeling of being caught doing something you shouldn’t or watching something you shouldn’t be watching, and seeing Hongjoong atop Seonghwa in such a way is the cause of that. Perhaps he expects you to be jealous and scowl at him, and perhaps that is exactly what you are supposed to feel, but frankly… it doesn’t make you envious in the slightest. You moreso feel content at the sight of them holding each other so closely, like Seonghwa is finally at peace with Hongjoong in his grasp and awake. Hongjoong is finally up, can finally comfort him, and Seonghwa can finally rest easier. Why would you ever want to take that away from him?

The sight of them so closely linked, however, brings up a fleeting memory from your foray in the Dreamscape.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?”

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

Albeit briefly, you wonder if that might be what Seonghwa saw once the two of you were separated. Even moreso than that though, the more pressing worry on your mind is just how deep Hongjoong’s demons run for Seonghwa to be so concerned that it has become his worst nightmare. You don’t have any more time to think about it as Hongjoong slips off of Seonghwa’s body and props himself on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa moves to sit up as well only to have Hongjoong’s hand slap down on his chest and shove him back to the bed with little effort. They don’t exchange any words, but they don’t need to either with the way one corner of Hongjoong’s lips quirks up in a half-smile as he blinks down at his lieutenant. Perhaps Vladimir had a point in the backhanded comment he made in the arena — when you see the way Hongjoong gazes at Seonghwa, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen or experienced before, like Seonghwa could do no wrong in the captain’s eyes, and like he’s the most precious creature in existence. Hongjoong slips his hand down to the inside of Seonghwa’s thigh, resting his fingers against the fabric of his pants just above the knee. It’s nothing… lewd or suggestive, nor does Seonghwa seem to take it as such, moreso a touch of comfort and nothing more.

“Well, are you all going to get in here or not?” Hongjoong leans to look past Yunho’s shoulder, regarding the rest of you with a stare that is enough to cause you to step inside. Yeosang does the same and comes in behind you, but Jongho doesn’t budge even an inch. Instead, he stays in the corridor with arms crossed over his chest and eyes darting down the hall every so often like he’s expecting Jisung to come bursting out at any second. Hongjoong waits but you have a growing suspicion that he’s not waiting for Jongho to come in necessarily. “I asked for the whole crew, Yunho. Where are the others?”

Does he not… did no one tell him of the situation?

Yunho inhales sharply but doesn’t manage to do anything more than that, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Yeosang, however, doesn’t let any silence drape over the room in the aftermath of Hongjoong’s question. He takes the initiative and steps forward with an expression so flat and even that you nearly believe nothing is wrong in the slightest.

“During the mission at the arena, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung were all taken captive and are currently missing in action. Vladimir was used as an instrument to get the ball rolling, but someone else is behind the incident. The three are aboard a transport vessel that is on its way to Dorado, where Mingi will be sent to a recreational facility to reprogram him back into the Brute of Kebos. San and Wooyoung were not the initial targets, so their fates and what will happen to them are currently unknown. We — we have someone aboard who is acting as a mole for us and gaining information from Vladimir, Han Jisung. He’s also eavesdropped on several meetings to get information about the transport vessel and the plans.

“Oh, I know that part,” Hongjoong hisses through gritted teeth. A flash of panic crosses Yeosang’s gaze for a split second, and the two of you seem to instinctively share in that panic by looking towards each other.

“H-How?” Yunho stammers.

“Why do you think I’m even up in the first place? A certain Han Jisung came in here and woke me up.” Seonghwa sits up without hesitation and latches a hand around Hongjoong’s shoulder. The captain doesn’t even have time to react before both Yeosang and Yunho are suddenly stepping closer to the bed and into his personal space as well. Your first instinct, on the other hand, is to twist at the waist and look towards where Jongho stands in the hallway.

“Did you sense anything? I thought you said he was in his room this whole time.”

“I… No, I truly didn’t sense anything. It must have been during the commotion in Seonghwa’s room. That—” the Berserker cuts himself short there, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he finishes the thought “—that was the only time I didn’t think to check for his heat signature. By the time I was certain the crisis was averted, Jisung must have gotten back to his room.”

Hongjoong shrugs Seonghwa’s touch off as best he can before pushes the man back to the bed with another gentle touch.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t lay a finger on me.” Even though the words are clearly directed at Seonghwa, they hold weight over Yeosang and Yunho as well, bringing both men a few steps back from the bed. “Han Jisung is the one you should worry about.”

And as much as you despise it and wish your brain did not catapult in that direction, you cannot stop the twinge of panic that surges through your veins. It must be strong enough to pique Seonghwa’s interest because however hard you try to conceal the emotion on your face, you cannot keep the Siren from sending a worried glance your way. You don’t wish to care for Jisung still, you wish you could just bury that part of yourself and focus on something else instead — something like Hyunwoo, who deserves more than what you gave him, but your mind clings to Jisung like a parasite. You aren’t sure it will ever let up.

“I left him with several pretty threats that were enough to deter him from doing anything foolish. But he in turn informed me of the situation from his perspective. I merely wanted to hear from you all to make certain he was telling the truth. So thank you, Yeosang, for sharing the information better than this Jisung character did. Although, he did tell me what they intend to do with Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung is set to be sold to the House of Lilies in the Upper Echelon of the capital, Lynder.”

“What the hell is the House of Lilies?” The name itself leaves little to the imagination, but you can’t exactly blame Yeosang for needing the verbal confirmation. This time it isn’t Hongjoong who answers, though, and for what seems to be the first time since waking up, Seonghwa opens his mouth to speak.

“It’s… a whorehouse for the top class of Lynder, typically only used by the military and head councilmen of the city.”

“It’s a fucking what?”

If they’re putting Wooyoung in a place like that, then you don’t want to imagine where they would put San.

“San. Wh-what about San? Do they plan to do the same to him or—”

“No, they have different plans for him,” Hongjoong interjects, cutting your thought into a silent breath of relief. “He’s slated to be put through regression therapy and built into the perfect assassin. After that, he’ll go into the military in the Upper Echelon of the capital. He and Mingi will be put in the same facility for their treatments, but Wooyoung’s deal is supposedly more immediate.”

“Regression therapy? That’s the worse possible treatment San could ever receive!” You don’t really need to hear the panic in Yunho’s tone right now; it only makes the gravity of the situation weigh heavier on your shoulders. If you could sink through the floor and disappear from existence entirely, that would be preferred, but alas, no matter how much you wish for it, you’re stuck in place. “That could undo every ounce of progress he’s made over the years! All that — everything, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s tongue flicks out for a second, stabbing the corner of his lips harshly before retreating back into his mouth. He presses his lips into a thin line after that and refuses to respond to Yunho’s words.

Regression therapy. You’d heard of it during your stint with the military, a thing that was merely used as a threat for rowdy and unruly recruits who refused to do as asked. Only a threat because of how awfully traumatic it could be and how inhumane the public thought such a treatment to be. But the point was not to be humane then.

“They’d… use regression therapy to undo all that progress for a reason,” you murmur. The heat of five stares hits your body, and it’s almost overwhelming for a moment but you push forward to finish the thought. “Breaking him down into the husk he used to be is only part of the process. Once he’s put in the military, they’ll just wipe him of it either way, but to seem like they’re doing it consensually, they have to get him to go in there by choice. That’s how things worked on Eros. They threatened to bring back memories from before the wipe if you stepped too far out of line. They’ll break him, turn him into what he used to be, make him as deprived and desperate for even an ounce of freedom, then offer to take it all away.”

You don’t realize how hard you are gripping the inside of your right elbow until the pressure stings, but the moment you release your arm, that temporary grip on reality slips away and you fall into a vague flashback.

“Things will be okay, Y/N, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

Hyunwoo is the one to speak to you. Your attempts to reach out and grab him are futile as you quickly find that you are strapped to a cool metal chair that practically burns your skin. Hyunwoo reaches down, lips twisting into a soft pained smile, and he takes one of your hands in his own.

“It’ll only hurt a little bit. We won’t take much, just enough for them not to be able to track it back to you. If you don’t know then they won’t be able to pin the blame on you, and you’ll be safe. So we’ll only take what we need to, okay?”

“I-I don’t know who ‘they’ is.”

“You won’t need to know after this. Jisung is prepping the serum now.”

“I — Hyunwoo, I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

“I’m sorry. This was the only way I could save you all. Maybe one day you will get to see each other again, and you can tell him the truth. And he can tell you the truth.”

“What fucking truth? You can’t do this now of all times, Hyunwoo! It isn’t the time to be cryptic and mysterious!”

“You’ll understand one day, Y/N. I promise.”

You pull yourself out of the flashback there, mostly because you’re so startled and confused as to why that memory slipped in. You were certain that you shared that conversation with Hyunwoo just before he walked to his death, not strapped to a chair with him saying such startling things.

“You’re right,” Hongjoong mutters, tugging you back to reality so harshly that you flinch. “Once they get on Dorado and conduct Wooyoung’s deal, they’ll separate Mingi and San. Probably place them in separate rooms: San to an isolation chamber, a large one no doubt. Mingi will most likely be placed in a much smaller one that will resemble the underbelly of the arena he grew up in.” Hongjoong pauses his thoughts there and shakes his head. “Han Jisung seems to know far too much about these plans and exactly what is going on. Why isn’t he tied to a chair in the brig right now?” Seonghwa opens his mouth to reply only to have Hongjoong wave his hand and dismiss the question entirely. “That isn’t important right now. What’s important is that we must keep any and all information found from henceforth away from Han Jisung. No plans, no musings, nothing whatsoever. That all stays between us as we cannot trust Jisung no matter what. I would rather keep a gun stuck to the back of that man’s head at all times than risk failure at this. Emergency rescue and recovery mission. We’ll talk further over the details soon. It’s best to get more rest now though.”

“I’d like to run some sleep tests anyways,” Yunho chimes in, and he turns to you before you have a chance to duck out of it. “Both you and Seonghwa. Don’t think I’d let you get out of it. Please just let me run a few tests, if anything only to make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine,” you mutter. Yunho doesn’t wait for you to follow him as he leads the way to another bed further down in the medbay. Sleep is the last thing on your mind right now, but you don’t have much of a choice as the healer sits you down and starts pulling wires and electrodes out. Hongjoong continues to talk to Yeosang a bit more, no doubt to decide on what to do moving forward.

“I’ll be hooking you up to a telemetry machine. It’s just to monitor your heart and see if there are any irregular happenings during the night. I’ll use it mostly to make sure it’s all beating properly and such while you’re asleep, but I’ll also place some sensors on and around your scalp, temples, chest, and legs, along with a small clip on your finger to monitor the oxygen in your blood. I’ll be here the whole night monitoring you both if any issues arise, yeah?”

“Okay.” You don’t make any efforts to hide the slight exasperation in your tone, and Yunho has the decency to at least pick up on that as he connects more of those sensors to your skin.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, you know. It’s — I know I have a lot to be sorry for and this one shitty apology won’t do much, but I am genuinely sorry,” he murmurs quiet enough for just the two of you to hear. “For all the ways in which I have been immature and hurtful. I did not act as a responsible or good doctor shoulder, but also from a deeper standpoint, I didn’t act as a friend should either, so I’m sorry for that as well. I want to do better and fix those mistakes but I don’t know how to right now. With all the stress we are under right now, I don’t want to risk making things worse by any means but... I can promise that I’ll try to do better.”

“I’m not petty like that,” you huff in reply. “Just you admitting that you did wrong and want to do better is enough for me. Just trying is enough. Maybe… try not to be a defensive asshole next time?” You dare to look up at the tall man’s face to gauge his reaction and are pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a smile.

“My goal is to avoid doing that again, yeah,” he laughs. His grin falls within a second, however, and he next brushes a hand over your hair with a small frown painting his thin lips. “You really gave us a scare. Hearing you call us for help only to go in and find you unconscious on the floor? We thought Jisung had gone in there and attacked you both. It was something out of a horror novel.”

You turn away as heat rises on your cheeks, and the only thing you can do to cover your embarrassment is cough awkwardly.

“I-I must have been so stressed and tired that I passed out right after.” That isn’t wholly a lie seeing as that’s what happened to Wooyoung according to Yeosang. Still, that begs a more pressing concern of what exactly happened on Wooyoung’s side of things for him to leave so suddenly. Perhaps the only good thing that could come out of this sleep test Yunho wants so desperately is the possibility of checking on Wooyoung and the others.

“You’re all set up now. You shouldn’t notice a thing unless we run into any issues, but again, I’ll be here to monitor throughout the night, and I’ll write up the scans in the morning.” Yunho pulls back with a smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter, settling back onto the creaky bed without further ado, but you know that sleep won’t come any time soon. So instead, you resort to watching Yunho make his way over to Seonghwa’s bed and repeat the same process he just did with you on the lieutenant. Yeosang dipped out of the medbay at some point apparently because he no longer stands before Hongjoong at the foot of the bed, and Jongho must have gone with him because the doors are now snapped shut. Hongjoong has his fingers curled tight around Seonghwa’s again, and once again that sense of distant longing seems to fall over the captain. He remains silent as he watches Yunho attach pads and wires to Seonghwa’s body. The feeling that next creeps over you isn’t one of jealousy or envy.

Your mind conjures up the image of San sitting at the foot of your bed like Hongjoong does with Seonghwa. San reaching a hand out to take hold of yours as he blinks down at you with concern. San brushing your hair out of your face and murmuring soft encouragements to you. Cat-like eyes and a dimpled grin gleaming above you like a whisper of hope.

It’s a painful reminder of reality: how San isn’t here and can’t be either. It’s a painful reminder that causes the corners of your eyes to sting against your will, emotions welling up so strongly in your chest that you double over to alleviate some of the pain there.

When you dare to look back at the bed, Yunho has walked around the side of the cot to stand before Hongjoong. Hongjoong’s free hand moves up to rest on the dip of Yunho’s hip, falling down to the top of his thigh for a fraction of a second then finding purchase on the mattress once more. Yunho pulls a stool forward and seats himself before the captain.

“I need to do a few more routine checkups on you too, just to make sure you’re okay since you didn’t rest as long as your body wanted. Eyes okay?”

“I can see you just fine if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Any pain in your ears? Ringing? The vibrations from the bomb will have shaken you up quite a bit.”

“No ringing, no pain.”

Yunho lifts a hand and rests it against Hongjoong’s forehead, pushing the blue strands up to lay his hand flat there.

“No fever either, that’s good. How does your throat feel? Your body should have purged the majority of the dust and smoke you inhaled by now, but I’m worried your throat might still be scratched up from it.”

“A little sore but nothing unbearable,” Hongjoong hums. He tilts his head from side to side as Yunho continues to worry over him but other than that, he seems entirely unbothered by the healer’s fretting.

“Ribs hurting at all? And your right hip?”

“Ribs feel okay, hip hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah because you aren’t supposed to be moving around with a fracture of that degree.”

“I moved less than six feet.”

“You’ll move six feet under if you aren’t careful.”

“Because of the injury or because you’ll put me there for not listening to you?”

“I’m gonna write off that attitude as the concussion talking because I know you aren’t dumb enough to argue with me on this.”

“Head is fine too.”

“Then let me call Jongho back to help you get to your room. You can’t be walking that far on your own and—”

“I need to talk with Seonghwa a bit more first,” Hongjoong interjects, head falling in Seonghwa’s direction. Yunho cuts off with a small ‘o’, and his gaze flits over to where you’re reclining against the pillows of the bed. Hongjoong seems to pick up on that without prompting though. “She can stay in here, it’s fine. I doubt it’ll take longer than a half-hour, if you don’t mind waiting outside that long?”

Yunho pushes back on his stool, slipping away from the bedside. If not for looking so intently at the man, you would have missed the way his hands curl into tight fists against his thighs, but he doesn’t voice whatever is on his mind.

“Right, don’t take too long though; I know you’ve been resting a while but your body still needs to recover before you try to do anything drastic, and knowing you, that’s exactly what you plan to do as soon as you can. Y/N, Seonghwa — you two get some rest soon. I’ll be back to monitor in a bit.”

You don’t wait to watch Yunho leave the room because it doesn’t feel needed, but at the same time, you are trying your best to avoid any eye contact with Seonghwa or Hongjoong as not to intrude on whatever conversation they intend to have. You hear the soft click of the door and its scraping metal as it slides open, then a repeat of the same sound when Yunho steps out. The silence that falls over the room is so thick it could choke you. Hongjoong shifts on the bed again and scoots closer to Seonghwa’s head, a series of creaks following the movements. You crack an eye open to peek over at the pair. Hongjoong doesn’t lie down beside Seonghwa or anything, just sits there with a hand still wrapped around the other’s, and other than that neither move or speak. It’s only after the silence drags on for several minutes that Hongjoong decides he’s had enough and speaks once more.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“We should talk about the plan more first. If Jin is truly behind this, then we need something more… just something more.”

“He’s not. It can’t possibly be him behind this because he would have targeted you rather than going after Y/N. I don’t think he has anything to do with this, nor do I think he would stoop to kidnapping to get what he wants.”

“We are down three crewmembers and have an untrustworthy rat aboard,” Seonghwa hisses without missing a beat. “Jin could very well have eyes and ears on us and know how weak we are right now. You might be able to excuse him, but I know for a fact that kidnapping is not the lowest he would stoop to get what he wants. And I will not jeopardize your goals by being captured by him.”

Hongjoong extends his free hand to cup Seonghwa’s cheek, brushing over the smooth expanse of skin there with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t believe that would ever happen. He would sooner have to kill me than capture you.”

“I’m… yeah, sorry, I’m simply worried. We’re headed to Dorado after all. Lynder of all places on that godforsaken planet too.”

“Why are you worried, hm? We shouldn’t be going anywhere near the Lower Echelon.” Seonghwa responds with a sharp shake of his head.

“Mother moved up to the Upper Echelon, remember? Three years back?”

“Are you calling me forgetful then?”

“You’ve always been forgetful, and you know it. You wouldn’t need me around if you could remember things.” That comment earns Seonghwa a smack to the shoulder, but you hear the huff of a laugh fall from Hongjoong’s lips before the lieutenant continues speaking. “The risking of seeing Mother is so high.”

“Are you… still afraid of her?” The question is hesitant in the same way that one would walk around a wild boar, like Hongjoong is afraid to set Seonghwa off in some way with the small question. “Hwa, you’re trembling. Is it too cold in here? I can get you an extra blanket if you—”

“No, no, shush, I’m not cold. I’m n-not afraid of her, I… I don’t want to be afraid of her, but in all those fucking nightmares, all I could see was red. I wanted blood, I wanted to kill, I wanted my hands around her throat so I could strangle her. And in all those dreams, that little voice won.” Seonghwa pauses and lifts a hand to touch Hongjoong’s cheek now, reflecting the other man’s actions from earlier. “I fear seeing the crew fall apart and not being able to save you from yourself more than anything else. Yet in those dreams, it was me who unmade each of them and ruined you. I’m… afraid of going to Dorado and not being able to hold back. I’m scared of killing Mother in a fit of rage and letting the Lieutenant of Death take over. I’m so afraid of hurting anyone on the crew, and I’m so fearful that I’ll bring ruin to you. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if that happens.”

Hongjoong’s hand comes down hard on Seonghwa's chin, gripping the skin and bone between lithe fingers, and he forces the man to look him in the eye.

“I won't let that happen. There is no way in hell I would ever let that happen. Even if I have to pry you off your own mother, I will make absolutely sure that that voice doesn't win, that those people who make up those rumors and disdain you so much don't win. I won't let you do anything you regret, Seonghwa.”

“Ha, as though you can promise such a thing,” Seonghwa mutters through a bitter laugh.

“I know. I can't promise much of anything, but I can give you my word and hope. That's enough for now. If all I have to offer you is one more day of hope, then I will continue to give you that for all eternity.”

The shorter man leans over the space between their bodies and presses his lips to Seonghwa's forehead, parting the hair that lies flat there to touch his skin.

“Don’t you ever regret letting me join the crew?”

“When it comes to you, I don’t think the word regret exists.”

It’s spoken with such a raw conviction that you feel your own throat closing up around itself. As your gaze falls over Seonghwa, you can clearly see the way the words affect him, from the way his lips part in wonder as he stares up at the man above him like he hung every star in his universe in the sky. Words fail him, but that doesn’t bother Hongjoong one bit as the captain tries to leave him with one more soft-spoken comment.

“Get some rest.”

He moves to get up and pull away from the bed, but Seonghwa's grip on his hand pulls him right back.

“Please don't go. I... I have both of you here with me for once. Please don't deprive me of this right now. Not when I've gone this long without you.”

“Whatever you wish, Hwa.” Hongjoong doesn’t fight back as Seonghwa tugs him down to his side, resting his head against his lieutenant’s chest once their bodies are pressed close. You don’t know if they’ve fallen asleep — the lights are still on in the medbay so it would be hard to fall asleep anyways — but you rest in the quiet with clouded and foggy thoughts. Twisting to the side, you turn to face the wall rather than look at that vulnerable scene any longer than you have to. You wish that could be the end of it, that the dismal conversations ended there with the two of them going to sleep, but Seonghwa’s tone rising up again in the silence disrupts that hope too.

“How much longer do we have to keep doing this? I get more and more tired with each day that passes.” Hongjoong hums a bit, and his next words come out rather slurred.

“I’m tired too. We’ll rest soon.”

“Aren’t we too young to be feeling this old?” There’s some humor to those words, but what Seonghwa says next eradicates that levity in an instant. “Jongho offered to take it away for me. Jongho, our youngest. He shouldn’t even have to think about taking our burdens.”

“That’s not the world we live in,” Hongjoong sighs. “That’s not a luxury we can afford. There is no normalcy. We don’t have and never will have any sort of normal family.”

“Family? Is that what this is now? The one you talked of wanting to find?”

“Yes… of course, this crew is our family without a doubt. One day when this is all said and done, we can settle down somewhere.”

“But?”

“But can we ever really be happy and content with settling down? I’ve been flying around space since I was born and as long as I can remember. Suddenly not doing that would be odd, wouldn’t it?”

Seonghwa laughs a clear and ringing sound, then seems to catch how loud the noise is and quiets himself to a softer chuckle.

“Then you can fly around space for all eternity if that’s what makes you happy.”

The bed creaks under someone’s movement, and you can only assume that it’s Hongjoong simply because he’s the next one to speak.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Keep doing what?” Seonghwa echoes softly.

“Every time we have this conversation and every time we talk of the future, you talk about it as though you won’t be there for it. Like you won’t see that future with me.”

“Stop saying foolish things, Hongjoong. We should be sleeping.”

“Seonghwa.” This time, Hongjoong’s tone is different. It’s something you’ve never heard from the man: a fragile sound that is on the verge of breaking and one that holds unspoken warning to it.

“Sleep, Hongjoong.”

“Seonghwa.”

That’s your breaking point. It’s too much for you to handle, the tone of their conversation has taken a drastic turn and you don’t want to hear anything else out of either of them simply out of fear. Even though you aren’t tired, you squeeze your eyes shut and internally beg for Wooyoung to let you in tonight.

…

As it turns out, you get your wish. You come to in Wooyoung’s body with a jolt and a gasp, although that sound goes unnoticed because Wooyoung yet again has full control over his body while you are left to sit back and watch through his eyes. The cell you wake up to is starkly different than the last; it’s much larger and brighter, fluorescent lights hanging on the ceiling, but that isn’t what draws your attention. No, the wall that consists only of thick metal bars and rings with the crackles of electricity garners all your attention first simply because of how loud the noise is but also because Wooyoung’s eyes seem to instinctively flit over the bars before turning further left. They are, thankfully, no longer chained to the floor like dogs and now seem to only have wrist and ankle shackles. It’s a significant step up from their last prison, and when Wooyoung finally pushes himself to his feet, you catch sight of Mingi resting on a small cot.

Wooyoung steps over to the Berserker without hesitation, hand dipping into a small bucket that’s full of icy water, and he pulls a rag from the liquid, wringing it a few times before laying the cloth atop Mingi’s head.

“How are you feeling?” Wooyoung asks. Mingi murmurs something in response, but it’s largely unintelligible, and Wooyoung must not pick up on it either because he strains his neck to get closer to the man. “Hm?”

“A b-bit better.”

“That’s g—”

A sharp rattle interrupts Wooyoung’s train of thought, and he jerks to look over at the shock wall. The door at the center swings open without warning, two men stepping through with someone hanging rather limply between their arms. If your heart could plummet right now, it truly would, because you would recognize that patch of white hair anywhere. The two men — guards from the looks of it — shove San into the cell, not caring to be mindful of the sides of the bars before pushing him against them without warning. San’s shoulder knocks roughly into the edge of the fencing as he comes through, and a bolt of shock sears through his body with surprising haste. The force brings him to his knees. Wooyoung lurches forward, darting out to grab hold of his shoulders and keep him somewhat upright.

“Be fucking careful! Are you paid to be idiots?” He shouts as he pulls San closer to his body. The stockier of the two guards sneers back at him.

“You’re next, slave. Watch yourself.”

Wooyoung responds by hurling a glob of spit at the guard’s feet, eyes narrowed to slits.

“You can take me once I’ve seen to my crewmates.” That comment earns him a sharp smack to the side of his head. San curls his fingers tight around Wooyoung’s side.

“Don’t make a scene about it, I’m fine,” he murmurs under his breath. He is far from fine, that much is obvious, because he can’t keep his body upright and his cheek keeps slumping down against Wooyoung’s shoulder no matter how much he tries to keep it up. The stout guard steps closer, arm poised to deliver another blow to Wooyoung, but he’s caught by his taller friend, who grabs him by the wrist before he can do anything else.

“They all need to make it to Dorado relatively unharmed or prices will down and we’ll get less of the cut from Boss.” That’s enough to pull the man away from Wooyoung, and he retreats back to the outside of the cell with his partner.

“You have ten minutes. Five if you make any other snippy remarks.”

Wooyoung exhales a small sigh of relief when the door slams back shut. He helps tug San to his feet and guides him to the bed beside Mingi’s. You’re grateful that Wooyoung won’t take his gaze off him because it gives you a chance to fully examine his current state.

The bruising on his face has gone down quite a bit, and just from that alone, you would say he almost looks okay. Still, his body reeks of exhaustion, and he clutches the shoulder that knocked into the shock wall even as Wooyoung eases him down to the cot. His dark circles are so deep that they almost seem to hollow his face, and you have an instinct to comb your fingers through his hair if you could because it’s a mess and so unkempt that you can barely see the white patch in the front. Wooyoung keeps pushing him down until San lies flat on the bed, and he doesn’t hesitate to peel San’s shirt up to his midsection. It exposes the awful bruising underneath, a colorful array of blues and purples that are ugly to look at.

“They’re gonna snap your ribs in two if they aren’t careful,” Wooyoung grumbles, tracing over the outline of the bruise with his index finger. “It’s already damaged enough.” San chokes out a laugh that has to hurt.

“That’s only the half of it. They could be doing a lot worse. At the very least, they don’t know shit about torturing people. I’ve been through worse and... and seen a lot worse in the past.” San’s hand darts down to the dip of his hip, where there’s a thin scar just by the bone. You recognize it in an instant — the place where Cara stabbed him back on Echidna and left him nearly dead. “They’ll have to work a lot harder to get anything out of me. They don’t like how quiet I am.”

“That doesn’t mean they really should work harder. You won’t survive that much. Did you manage to get anything out of them this time?”

San shakes his head at first then grips the front of Wooyoung’s shirt and pulls him closer.

“They were fumbling a little when I asked what the plans are. Mean one — shorty — he tried to shut me up but the other started asking questions too. Said he was just as confused and didn’t know what the boss plans to do with the two of us. They know exactly what would happen with Mingi but had way too many doubts when it came to us. They had to have wanted someone else. Maybe Scourge since he was in the arena with Mingi?” Hearing San call Hongjoong by that name sounds so foreign and stilted, but you know it’s just a way to protect as much of their identities as possible. Wooyoung draws his lips together.

“That doesn’t sound right. They would have had a clear path to both Mingi and Captain in the arena. Why wouldn’t they grab him then? When… when they take me, I’ll try to get more out of them. Clean — if you can, please clean Mingi’s wound again. The infection is almost fully fleshed out and his fever will break soon, but without anything to sew it up, he can easily get a worse infection if we aren’t careful.”

“Should it be gone within the next two days?”

“That’s up to his body and how it reacts to the rest of this process. Why?”

“I heard them say that we’ll be landing on Dorado in three days,” San mutters. He glances over at Mingi’s reclining body, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “If he’s well enough within two, then maybe we can work out a breakout plan.” Wooyoung glances between the Spectre and Mingi without reacting for a few moments then gives a small nod.

“We’ll talk about it more later. I’ll try to get more information in the meantime.” Wooyoung moves to step away from the bed, but San keeps him in place, fingers curling around the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt.

“Just — please at least cooperate a little bit. You don’t have to tell them shit, but don’t put yourself in danger simply out of pride.”

“I won’t.”

That is what Wooyoung says, at least, but his next action is surely one out of either sheer stupidity or an obscene amount of pride. He steps over to the shock wall and raises a clenched fist to the metal. Without a drop of hesitation and without flinching in the slightest, he raps his knuckles against the metal as though it’s nothing. You would think it’s nothing too if not for the waves of electricity that cascade through his body and in turn, yours. If it were you, you would pull back thanks to the shock, but Wooyoung doesn’t and only wraps his hand around the bars.

“You gonna come get me or not?”

“Fucking brat,” the shorter guard mutters, but he does exactly what Wooyoung wants and approaches the fencing to let him out.

“Try harder on the fences,” Wooyoung remarks, daring to drag his tongue over the front of his bottom row of teeth — a show of smugness that drives the guard mad.

“It’s not meant to incapacitate you, simply to keep little brats like you in check.”

“That was meant to keep me in check? Come on, that little shock didn’t even make me flinch in the slightest.” That comment isn’t what gets Wooyoung smacked upside the head; rather, it’s the huff of laughter that falls from his lips right after that causes the first guard to elbow him in the back of the head.

“Get walking, fucker.”

“When you gonna let me see the big boss?” Wooyoung grumbles as the pair sandwiches him between their bodies.

“He’s not around to have any meetings, especially not with the like of you. Busy with work of his own right now. But maybe one day you’ll mess up enough to get a meeting with the lieutenant thought.”

“What? This disordered bunch of scoundrels has a lieutenant?” Yet again that draws the ire of the stockier guard, and the man slams the butt of his gun into Wooyoung’s stomach. The impact is enough to cause Wooyoung to hunch over, bound hands grabbing the other guard’s thigh for support. The force careens both into the wall on accident, but Wooyoung doesn’t stop there. He fumbles around until his hand slips into the man’s pocket. Cool plastic greets him, something flat and rectangular, and Wooyoung latches onto both that and something else that feels vaguely like metal before pulling his hand out the pocket.

“Stay up, you rat,” the taller hisses. When he knocks his shoulder into Wooyoung’s, Wooyoung lets his hand fall near his own pocket, pushing both items he just lifted into the fabric. You can’t be sure that he knows what he’s just taken or that he has any sort of plan for if he gets caught with the stolen items. He doesn’t let anything slip through his expression though and simply rights himself when the shorter of the pair nudges him forward, continuing to follow them through the narrow corridor. The longer you walk, the more the interior and layout of the ship become familiar to you — from the dark grey walls to the solid doors with no peepholes. Your growing suspicions come to a grinding halt of realization when Wooyoung is shoved into a dark room that has one yellow-tinted light hanging from the ceiling. It sits directly above a reclining chair, and that’s a sight you would recognize anywhere. From the straps on the side down to the flat metal headrest — they must be aboard a military ship, or at least a former one given the pirate crew running it currently. But that chair and this room resemble the one you had your memories wiped in with an uncanny certainty.

Wooyoung doesn’t have a chance to resist before the two guards are shoving him further in and pushing him down onto the chair. Rough leather straps wrap tight around his torso and legs, then two more for each ankle and wrist once the first ones are secured. That, however, is all the men do for the time being. It seems to shock Wooyoung as much as it shocks you because he shifts to watch them as they walk over to the side of the room and lean up against the wall.

“Aren’t you going to do anything else?”

“Be patient.”

Wooyoung squints. His wrists twist a bit in the restraints, testing the tautness of the material, and when it doesn’t give any budge, he jerks harder against them. Two clear and mocking laughs resound in response. Someone comes up on Wooyoung’s left, one of the guards moving without warning to lean over Wooyoung’s body.

“We’ll do a few tester questions just to see how willing you are to talk, how about that? So… who do you work for?”

“Go fuck yourself, how about that?”

“Oh come on, you’re a slave, aren’t you? Why be loyal to a cruel master? Can’t you answer one simple question?” The guard reaches down to toy with the collar around Wooyoung’s neck. In an instant, every muscle in his body seizes up, and Wooyoung goes so far as to stop breathing entirely with the barely brush of contact. The pirate doesn’t stop there, though, and he slips a finger under the metal collar to touch the skin underneath. Pressure invades your head, like someone is grabbing your skull between their hands and squeezing with an obscene amount of force. Wooyoung thrashes and tries to jerk away from the contact, but the guard just loops his finger under the metal and maintains that same level of contact. Your head — or Wooyoung’s rather — begins to tingle and throb, ears ringing loudly with white noise as something else creeps up on you.

Please!

If you had any ounce of control over Wooyoung’s body, you would jerk your head to find the source of the sound, but as it continues, you realize that it’s not real. Not something that is truly resonating around you in the room right now. The voice is too young, too child-like, just a wailing noise that repeats over and over again without cease. A constant prayer of ‘please’ that fades into the background when the guard above Wooyoung speaks again.

“Now who do you work for?”

Please.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” Wooyoung grits out. “I have nothing to gain from speaking to you about anything.”

Please, please, please.

Finally, the hand slips away, and Wooyoung gasps for breath like he’s never had air in his lungs before. His head lolls to the side almost the same way a ragdoll’s would as a sharp slap echoes. Pain sears over your skin, resonating through Wooyoung’s body to burn you too.

“This is why you’re going to the whorehouse. They can shut you up permanently with other things.”

“That kind of threat won’t work on me,” Wooyoung manages to murmur. His eyes roll back in his head as he slumps back into the metal headrest, chest still heaving to bring in air. “I’m not gonna tell you anything. If your boss w-wants info so badly… he can come take it himself. What’s the point of this anyway? Bring me to a room and ask me pointless questions? You already said you aren’t allowed to hurt the ‘goods’ too badly. And if I’m slated to go to a whorehouse — messing any physical features up would lower your cut dramatically. But the boss probably doesn’t pay you to be smart, huh?”

Red flashes through your vision then a fist careens into Wooyoung’s nose so hard that you’re certain it’s cracked in two. Warmth trickles down his nostrils and trickles into his mouth, leaving the taste of blood on the back of your tongue. The second man in the room pulls forward. He grabs his partner by the arm and tugs him away from Wooyoung as best he can before taking up the same position over Wooyoung’s reclining form.

“Listen here, slave, I really don’t want to be cruel to you, but there are ways to make you talk, ways that won’t… damage the goods as you say and will instead mess up that pretty little head of yours, so let’s just cooperate while you can, yeah?”

A sneer tears through Wooyoung’s lips, but he doesn’t fight back any longer, letting his head drop back to the headrest without complaint.

“You know who I work for already so I don’t need to tell you shit.”

The shorter of the two guards takes another step towards the chair.

“That may be the case, yes, but we aren’t after your captain. We need information on someone else… someone who was seen with you in the streets outside the arena. Someone you seemed to be close to based on the way you were protecting her, and someone who looked an awful lot like the Ghost of Eros.”

You can feel the way Wooyoung’s eyes widen. The same shock that courses through his veins rushes through your own as well. His tongue darts out to moisten his lower lip, dragging over the dry and cracking skin until it stings. He tries his best to hide that shock, but it’s too late, and the guards have already seen the flashes of recognition across Wooyoung’s features.

“So you know Miss Y/N then?”

“Yeah, we’re closer than you might think…” Wooyoung mutters, glancing off to the side and avoiding their prodding stares as best he can.

“Where is she?”

“Hell if I know.” Wooyoung tries his best to shrug with the words, but the restraints around his arms and torso keep him firmly planted to the cold metal chair. “In case you don’t remember, you kinda kidnapped me while I was unconscious and couldn’t see shit. Amazing that you managed to grab my sorry ass yet missed your precious little Ghost entirely, huh?”

That pulls the second guard forward, and he steps into Wooyoung’s space with a sneer of his own that is so vicious it causes Wooyoung to flinch away.

“We weren’t the dipshits in charge of collecting the packages. The ones who were hit a snag.”

Wooyoung manages to roll his eyes even as the guard presses closer.

“There’s nothing I can do to help you then. Your people crushed my earpiece so I don’t even have a way to contact her.” A finger comes down to tap against Wooyoung’s temple. It’s almost gentle in the way it brushes over his skin, but each tap comes harder than the last and you aren’t too foolish to ignore the threat in the touches.

“You will cooperate though, and you will answer our questions. Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to crack that pretty little head open and take what we need instead. Unless you’d like to arrive at the whorehouse as a husk? That would make your job easier wouldn’t it?” A cruel grin twists over the man’s lips, one that you can’t bear to look at but you don’t have much of a choice because Wooyoung decides to stare him down with equal ferocity. “Now, when did Miss Y/N join your crew?”

“Who knows?” Wooyoung shrugs within his constraints. “I’ve never been good at keeping track of time.”

“Then what did she do before joining the crew?”

“Never shared any details about her life before meeting us.”

The pirate lifts his hand, and you’re almost certain that he is going to hit Wooyoung again but instead, he presses one index finger back to Wooyoung’s temple.

“You know… the other one was a lot more intense about these questions. Thrashing, angry, fuming at every mention of her name, so upset that we would even dare to ask about the little ghost. Why is that? Are they close?”

Wooyoung arches a brow. It takes a moment for you to realize that this man is talking about San of all people, but when you do, a wave of guilt hits you square in the chest. The thought of San being strapped to a chair like this and probed for answers about you and your past — having to experience it through Wooyoung and knowing that this is all because they captured Wooyoung and San in your place… it’s brutal enough as it is. More than that, it brings you back to that conversation you shared with San in the aftermath of your shared torture — the one where you sat opposite each other on his bed and admitted how afraid both of you were. How you were afraid to ever see San in that position again, and yet somehow… somehow not seeing it is worse. Somehow knowing that he is being put through this sort of hell and you are powerless to do anything to stop it is far worse than lying across from him on a sandy floor in an old warehouse with a crazed Berserker over you.

“Am I supposed to know the intimate details of relationships now? Why does your boss even need to know something of that nature?”

“Quit asking fucking questions.” It’s the more violent of the two guards who says that, and he steps forward to slam his elbow into Wooyoung’s stomach. “Do you wanna know what we did with your friend? Put him on this very chair and told him all the pretty ways we could fuck up that head of his if he didn’t cooperate. People like him… they have a lot of baggage. They carry weights on their shoulders that last a lifetime, and if you know how to manipulate it, then you can get whatever you want from them. And you—”

The man pushes a hand up the expanse of Wooyoung’s chest until he reaches the band of metal around his neck. Two fingers slip under the collar. Wooyoung presses his lips together so tight that they tremble under the force, yet that’s still not enough to keep a whimper from slipping out. It’s a mirror image of the Wooyoung you met upon waking up in the medbay for the first time, a mirror image of the terrified boy who plunged an anesthesia shot into your neck, the one you were certain was weak and fragile. You hadn’t thought of Wooyoung like that since back then, never imagined him to be weak after Yeosang mentioned how much he’s gone through and after witnessing his drive to protect the people around him. But now?

Now it’s just Wooyoung. There is no one in his immediate vicinity to protect, nor is there anyone here to protect him as you are stuck being a helpless bystander with no power or control over his body.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you? Burden after burden on your shoulders. Pretty little traumas to keep you awake at night. That… tough guy act where you pretend to be better than your crewmates — don’t you know how easy it is to see through that? You know your own worth, and that worth amounts to being nothing more than a filthy slave who will soon sell his body to others to get a bite of food at night. Can’t you see yourself doing that for the rest of your life? Why else would a broken collar stay around your neck?”

Broken?

Wooyoung has grown dreadfully quiet, and that tells you that the pirate hit the nail on the head with too much ease. Yet now that you think about it, the collar around Wooyoung’s neck is most definitely a shock collar, but you have never once seen it glowing with electricity or power in the slightest, which can only mean that Wooyoung truly is walking around with a dead shock collar at all times. That reality is haunting on its own, but that coupled with the continuous and monotonous cries in the background that beg ‘please’ over and over only make matters worse.

“We’re getting nowhere with this one. The last one was much more responsive when it came to these questions. We should just bring him back in and leave this one to rot in the cell with the Berserker.”

“O-Okay… yeah… let’s try that.”

Wooyoung doesn’t make some great escape when they pull the restraints loose, and for the first time since waking up in his body, you gain the sense that he is genuinely tired of fighting back against their advances. He lets his body fall slack in their grasp, allowing himself to be pulled from the chair and dragged by the elbows between their bodies. Albeit faint and dying, you swear up and down that you can still hear that faint child-like voice ringing in your ears.

“You really do suck at torture.” A bit of crimson liquid slips out the corner of Wooyoung’s lips as he speaks, leftover residue that dripped from his nose, and he spits it to the floor without a care in the world.

“The goal isn’t to torture. If we could harm you physically, we certainly would.”

Wooyoung doesn’t speak further than that and again you think it’s because he doesn’t have the energy in his body to do so. He settles for glancing around the ship extensively as the two guards drag him back to the cell. That is somewhat odd to you at first seeing as he’s had plenty of opportunities to look around the ship from the inside of his cell, but realization sinks in when Wooyoung nods his head towards an exit door on the way to the cell.

Oh… are you trying to help me? That becomes increasingly apparent when he scans each wall and corner like his life depends on it, and you do your best to commit every inch of the room to memory. If this is something of a military ship, you should be able to figure out a basic layout with Yeosang’s help if he remembers anything too. Wooyoung hums to himself as they reach the electrified gate to the cell, but he doesn’t do anything other than that until the taller guard shoves him to the floor of the cell. San darts forward, nearly tripping over his feet in his rush to get to Wooyoung’s side.

“God, what did they do to you? I told you to be fucking careful!” He hisses under his breath. Wooyoung quirks one corner of his lips up and flashes a quick wink in San’s direction.

“Hold onto this for the time being,” he mutters back, digging the small rectangular card and piece of metal from earlier out of his pocket. Wooyoung only extends the piece of metal, something small and indiscernible practically, but Wooyoung must find some value in it to pass it to San rather than the card, which is clearly a keycard. San takes the item without complaint but his brows are still tightly knit together in concern. “I need more information from the guards. I almost got ‘em.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Only a little beat up. Pain… pain is nothing to me, not this kind at least. I’ve felt enough to grow rather used to it after all this time, so don’t worry about me getting hurt. It’s all just my little show so they don’t go harder than I want them to. Just — take the time to care for Mingi’s wound while you can. I’ll be back soon.”

Wooyoung hoists himself up to his feet and presses the keycard between his teeth. He and San maintain eye contact until Wooyoung turns completely around to face the closing door of the cell.

“Can’t even focus long enough to keep track of your belongings, huh? Cheap guards for the big boss?”

There’s a clatter then the slam of the cell door resounds, and both pirates rush in to tackle Wooyoung to the floor. The shorter of the two reaches him first, knocking into Wooyoung so hard and fast that it feels like your brain is rattling against the confines of your skull. San pushes forward as well and intercepts the second guard with his arm.

“Stand down, San, stand down!” Wooyoung shouts, stopping the Spectre at just the last second before he punches the guard in the throat. “It’s okay, just let them take me. It’s okay. They can’t hurt me.”

“We may not be able to, but the Reaper is gonna make you fucking pay for such foolish actions.”

“The Reaper, huh? Is that the infamous big boss?” A hand curls through Wooyoung’s hair. With a sharp tug that nearly pulls the strands right off his scalp, he’s brought up to his knees.

“Yes, it is. You’ve quickly proved that you’re too much of a disobedient brat to be sent to the House of Lilies. Maybe we should send you through some rehabilitation too with your little friends, yeah? We’ll take good care of you until the Reaper comes back to the ship though.”

Wooyoung collects a bit of spit on his tongue then slings it at the guard’s face, a bit of crimson mixing in with the saliva.

“We’re counting on it.”

Right then you feel Wooyoung directly contacting you in his consciousness, a small push and pull on the edges of your mind, and he drops his chin to his chest so quickly that you think he’s passed out on the spot. It’s enough to deter the guards and their focus on him for now, and he cracks an eye open to stare at the floor as they drag him down the hall yet again.

“Y/N…” he whispers under his breath. “Y/N, take that info back to Yeosang. Give him that name too. The Reaper.”

You want more information than that, but Wooyoung’s consciousness knocks hard against yours, and the vision before you fades to black, cutting any hopes of getting more from him drastically short.

All that you’re left with is fogged thoughts and that name shining clearly at the forefront of your mind: The Reaper.

…

Han Jisung.

Never did you think you would see him again, and that still hasn’t sunk into your bones yet. The feeling deep in your gut currently is hard to explain. You aren’t sure you could ever make sense of it, but seeing that man, Han Jisung, a person you relied on so heavily for so long standing over by the observation window on the bridge of The Horizon feels like it should be something of a fever dream. Alas, it’s not, it’s all very real and very tangible, and you don’t realize how long you’ve been glaring holes into the back of Jisung’s head until Yeosang clears his throat from beside you.

The two of you sit near the comms station, and you’ve made a home for yourself sitting atop the desk as Yeosang sits at the chair before it. He has his bound journal set out on the desk, pen in hand as he scribbles over the pages. Jongho is not far away himself: he stands closer to the captain’s seat, and none other than Hongjoong himself sits in that place, back steering the ship as he usually does. Seonghwa is nowhere in sight — still down in the medbay with Yunho for further observation since his condition was much more critical than yours. All you can hear is the faint rumble of the ship’s power systems and air passing through the air filters. The silencing should be deafening, but it gives you more than enough time to process your thoughts while you can.

That blessed silence is interrupted within seconds as Yeosang’s chair scrapes hard against the metal floor and he scoots closer to where you’re perched. You follow his movements, twisting at the waist to lean over the empty space between you and offer some semblance of privacy for the ensuing conversation.

“So, according to what you saw last night, I drew up a basic sketch of what I think the ship’s layout looks like,” Yeosang mutters, exposing the pages of his journal to you. “Two exit doors in the room with the cell. They took Woo to a small room that had a single reclining chair and medical equipment. Potentially a former military ship, although from the sounds of it, it must be a rather old one. Since they’re headed to Dorado, I would assume it’s a Doradian ship that they jacked.” Yeosang pauses to scribble a few more unintelligible words on the paper, writing twisting and curling in a way you’ve never seen before. “We still don’t know why they want you… but San said they’re at least three days out to Dorado. With the speed Hongjoong is flying at, we won’t catch up for another four days though. Most of the flight will be pushing through the celestial barrier between Aurum and Geofflan, but we can’t burn extra fuel without having to tap into emergency reserves.”

“So then what? The exchange is supposed to happen soon after they land so there’s no way we’ll be able to catch up and break them loose before then,” you reason. Yeosang manages a small nod, avoiding the stare you send his way as he continues to scribble in his journal.

“We at least know the main location will be the capital, Lynder. And we know that Wooyoung is slated to go to the House of Lilies — if this Reaper figure doesn’t change his mind, that is — but Mingi and San will be sent to separate rehabilitation facilities.”

“That’s bad for the rest of us then. Once they’re separated, we have a higher risk of failure.”

Yeosang presses his lips into a thin line and hums softly. “But once they’re out of this Reaper’s hands, they won’t be his responsibility anymore. Mingi will, since they plan to transport him back to Kebos once he’s ready, but Woo and San are being sold independently. We should aim to take them back after the deals go through. That way the Reaper can’t cause issues because he will already have his money. A whorehouse won’t mind losing someone unless they pay a great deal for them… I don’t know how Dorado operates in terms of military regulations and such. Or even how important the military is to them. We’ll have to be quick to get San back, won’t we?”

You give a quick shake of your head.

“They plan on putting him through that regression therapy first so we will have time before they try to wipe him.”

“If, and only if he’s strong enough to withstand that torture.”

You ball your fists tight around the leather of your pants.

“He’ll be strong enough.”

“There’s no way of knowing what they’ll do to him once it’s time for that regression therapy, and we won’t be able to do anything for him if he caves early.”

“Then we should prioritize him and get to him first,” you argue, forcing your tone to stay as low as possible. “Either we have faith that he will hold out as long as possible or he’s the first one we rescue.”

“And how confident are you that he can handle that level of torture? I saw many recruits be sent to those wiping chambers in my time as a prince. None of them lasted longer than fourteen hours on the table. Either due to a weak constitution or the sheer level of trauma they were forced to go through. Knowing his past and what traumas they could awaken, how confident can you be that he will last longer than that? I don’t want one slimy fucking mongrel to lay a hand on Woo in that whorehouse, and he will be easiest to recover so we need to prioritize him if that’s the easiest option. If San reaches a point where he wants the serum, then what? We have another Mingi dilemma on our hands?”

That question stops you in your tracks. You hadn’t dared to think that far ahead simply out of fear that it could be a reality. It does take you back to the one and only time you and San spoke about the issue the serum posed though, for better or worse.

“If our positions were switched, would you be okay with it?”

“I can’t pretend to know what that experience was like for you or how deeply it affected you. If I were the one who had used it before, and I was aware of it like you, I know that I would be selfish at the end of the day. I have mentioned it before but I wish to cling to you for as long as I can. And though it’s — though it goes against my morals, I would not want you to take the serum because I can’t bear the thought of you forgetting who I am and how I feel about you. I know that sounds a bit bold, especially given your relations with Seonghwa, but… I would say the same to any member of the crew — save for Yeosang perhaps. You all are special and valuable to me in unique ways, and the thought of any of you losing any memory we share is too much for me.”

“Would you expect the same of me in return?”

“I would only ask that which I would ask any of the crew. To do what is right by your own standards and not by anyone else’s. We’ve all been slaves to other people’s whims and desires for too long. I would never wish to put anyone through that again, and even something as simple as pushing my opinion onto you would be unfair.”

And here you sit now coming to the gross realization that you cannot be okay with the thought of San forgetting who you are. You cannot live in a universe where he loses every ounce of work he’s put in over the years, the relationships he’s built with the crew, the things he has had to survive — you cannot bear the thought of it becoming meaningless and futile in the face of simply forgetting it. Because now, as you struggle on your own with these hazed memories that have no true place in your mind, you know that you could never wish that on anyone. Not knowing your past is a horrid fate, but losing all the pieces you’ve put together is a fate worse than death.

“There’s no way in hell I am ever going to let them give San that serum, even if it’s what he wants.”

Yeosang huffs air through his teeth but doesn’t comment further than that, and you take it as a sign that the conversation is concluded for now. When you lift your head again, movement from near the observation window catches your eye, and none other than Jisung himself stares over at you with eyes wide and searching. Like not a thing has changed in the past few years, and like those broken memories that plagued your dreams were nonexistent altogether.

Whatever comes over you is compelling enough to pull you off the desk. Yeosang follows your movements with his eyes, lips parting to ask what you’re doing, but you stop him by dropping a hand to his shoulder.

“There’s something I can’t wait on anymore,” you murmur. That is all the explanation you give before forcing your feet to move towards Jisung. A soft laugh echoes through the bridge as you draw closer to him, and Jisung greets you with nothing more than that and a rounded smile at first.

“Took you long enough to come speak to me like this. All those years of knowing each other for what?”

“For you to tell me the truth now.”

“Hm?”

“Hyunwoo told me before he went off to die that one day you would tell me the truth. So what is it?”

A frown paints Jisung’s lips.

“What are you talking about? Hyunwoo never said anything of the sort.”

“I distinctly remember it, as well as being strapped to a chair with Hyunwoo over me saying that they would only take a little bit. And I’ve been having odd dreams of memories that I have no recollection of. So just what the fuck happened to me before leaving the military and killing the king? Right now I don’t have anyone alive who can tell me that except for you, Jisung.”

Jisung folds his arms over his chest, eyes turning to narrow slits as he glares forward at you. Then, he slowly extends his right arm and poises to place the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Watch it.” You don’t need to turn to know whose voice that is, and you half-expect to turn and find Jongho at your side in the blink of an eye. However, when you glance back over your shoulder, Jongho is still beside Hongjoong’s chair, and the captain’s hand is placed ever so delicately in front of his chest that it hardly blocks the Berserker from moving. It’s moreso the gesture that keeps Jongho in check, and no matter how unhappy he seems with the order, he follows it without complaint.

“I have no intention of hurting her at all! Come now, would you take me for a fool? You should all know better seeing as the bargain I made in helping you was for her safety.”

“She might have made that bargain with you, but you made no such deal with me,” Hongjoong states without batting an eye. “And I will not allow you to force her to leave my crew, even if you have come to an agreement.”

“She made the agreement knowing full well what it would entail and because it’s what she wanted,” Jisung counters. His arm falls back to his side without touching you in the slightest.

“I didn’t,” you refute immediately. “I am only doing this for the crew, not because I actually want to be near you.” An almost feral noise tears through Jisung’s lips, and you flinch back just to put some distance between your bodies.

“After all the things I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices I’ve made, the risks I took to even make certain that you would make it out of that cell alive—”

Your body reacts before your head can catch up. Next thing you know, you have two fists curled tight around Jisung’s collar and are slamming him up against the observation window with a strength that surprises you as much as it surprises Jisung. Hongjoong must retract his hold on Jongho because suddenly the Berserker is at your side now, hand pressing hard on your shoulder. You knock his grip away without so much as looking at him; there is too much adrenaline running through your body right now, too much heat in your blood and fire in your bones, and nothing is going to stop you from taking out years of bottled-up frustrations on Jisung now.

“You have absolutely no right to dare to say such a thing. You don’t get to talk about sacrifice! The only person who took risks for me was Hyunwoo. The one who died In my place is the only one who gets to talk like that and claim that he’s made sacrifices. I buried you in my past the minute I was forced to dig an empty grave alone. You let me alone on that god-forsaken planet to bury an empty grave without so much as looking back! No matter how hard you try to justify it, there is nothing that will ever convince me that it was the right or fair decision to make! Anything you ever did for me — whether I remember them or not — it all pales in comparison to what Hyunwoo sacrificed.”

“Only people who die for you can sacrifice things? What of the people I killed for you? The innocent people I killed to keep your reputation untarnished? How much blood is on your hands, Y/N? You look at me like I am a monster but I am what you made me! Whether you like it or not, the truth of the matter is that Hyunwoo agreed to my terms. Hyunwoo is just as much at fault for what we did to you as I am. And what we did was necessarily because I guarantee if you remembered all the things you did, you would rather kill yourself than keep on living the way you are now.”

Your momentary shock is enough for Jongho to pull you off Jisung. He wedges himself between you and the Spectre, folding his arms over your hips to guide you further away from the man.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

“And what exactly is it that you and Hyunwoo did to me? Because I sure as hell don’t remember or understand anything! How long do you plan to lie to my face?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jisung says. There is a sudden drop to his tone, one that hits harder than it should. “As selfish as it may be, that is the one secret I will never disclose, and Hyunwoo would be a fool to ever believe that I would tell you what it is. If he wanted it exposed so desperately, then he can do it himself.”

You see red. It all feels like a blur yet simultaneously like the universe is moving in slow motion around you. You are hyperaware of the way you push Jongho out of the way to get back to Jisung, fist clenching so hard that your knuckles go white just before you sock the man in the jaw. The noise that resounds is disgusting and brutal, a sick crack that echoes in your ears like a battle cry.

“You don’t fucking get to talk about Hyunwoo as though he’s alive,” you growl, curling your fingers through Jisung’s hair and yanking his head back hard enough to make his neck pop. “You dipped off-planet without even seeing the execution through, without even waiting for blood to spill, so you have no right.” Jisung’s tongue darts out and wets the corners of his lips. “You have no right1” You repeat as though it will do any good. “You killed innocent people as though it was nothing! Was that all Hyunwoo was to you too? Just another bump in the road on your path to power?”

You swing for his face once more, but this time Jisung reacts before you can hit him. He pushes your hand to the side, expression relatively neutral compared to your own rage-filled one.

“I bet you couldn’t wait to see Hyunwoo die because that would mean the leader was out of the way and you could finally have that power you wanted! People would finally listen to you? Is that what you wanted? How could you do that to us, Jisung? We were a team, a family, you were all I had. How could you kill people in my name? Innocent people, who did nothing wrong killed for saying something trivial about me? How could you let innocent people be taken in my place? Wooyoung and San did nothing wrong! They don’t have that blood on their hands, they don’t carry the weight of that guilt on their shoulders, they aren’t bad people, Han Jisung! How could you? Why would you let that happen? Why would you put them in a place to be hurt and sold in my place? Who gave you the right to make that decision? You’re not some god!”

Jisung doesn’t move a muscle throughout your tirade, his face doesn’t budge nor does his disposition — it’s almost like yelling at a statue in an eerie and unsettling way. Then he speaks again, and this time it is with a haunting flatness to his tone.

“When have you ever known me to be cruel?”

“I-I thought the answer to that was never bu-but now I don’t know if I can trust that.”

Jisung blinks.

You inhale.

Then something hits your stomach so hard that you double over in pain, blind-sighted by the speed at which Jisung moves, and Jongho doesn’t have time to react either. Jisung doesn’t stop there though; no, he returns the favor and grips your hair close to the scalp to yank you back up to be eye level with him.

“I am merely… a cruel person, Y/N. I have always been cruel. And when it comes to protecting people I care about, there are no morals. There are no grey areas. There are no lines that I am not willing to cross. The universe has made me evil by taking everything from me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to have at least one thing I care about. And that one thing is you.”

Silence ensues. You don’t dare speak again; you aren’t sure you could even form words if you wanted to. Out the corner of your eye, you see a flash of metal and the barrel of a gun.

“If you so much as move a muscle, I will shoot you down with no hesitation.” You never saw the man move but that cold tone can only belong to Hongjoong. That suspicion is confirmed when Jisung releases his hold on your hair, letting you pull back and stand up straight once more. Hongjoong doesn’t lower his weapon even as Jisung raises his hands in surrender. “You call yourself cruel. Well, I am evil. Cruel, harsh, cold-hearted, and full of nothing but malice. So you can fucking bet that I won’t let you take her against her will. And if you even for a breath of a moment think otherwise, then I will put a bullet between your eyes and send you off to meet your maker.”

Jisung’s nose twitches as he sneers back at the captain.

“That’s not a risk you would ever take.”

“Ha, then you know fairly little about me, Han Jisung. I could sit here for hours and tell stories about the blood I’ve spilled, the blood my lieutenant has spilled, the things we have done as the most notorious and bloodthirsty pirates in the universe, or I could tell you of my own individual accomplishments. But if you truly think that I won’t do everything in my power to stop you from taking her?”

Hongjoong’s arm shifts and the barrel of the gun finds a new home, a new target.

On you.

Between your eyes.

Hongjoong cocks the hammer back. The click seems ten times louder than it is in reality. Jongho pulls closer to you, eyeing Hongjoong with a wary gaze.

“I can be evil if that is what you want me to be,” Hongjoong whispers, arching a brow at Jisung. “Such a thing would be easy for a man like me. But it comes with a price, and it’s one that you should weigh heavily. Take her against her will, and I’ll make sure the only thing you take is a corpse.”

“Good move, Captain,” Jisung replies. “I do so enjoy playing such mind games with someone who is actually of my caliber and on my level like this. Now, the move is mine to make, no?”

“You would treat her life as something as mundane and childish as a game of chess?”

Jisung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Mind yourself, Captain. All I have to do is give the command, and my dogs will bite.” Hongjoong lets Jisung step around him and make for the edge of the bridge before lowering his pistol and returning it back to its holster.

“Han Jisung.”

Hongjoong’s words stop the man in his tracks, and your eyes find his in the brief moment of hesitation before he turns to look directly at the captain. Hongjoong doesn’t look back, at least not face to face because he merely glances over at Jisung through the reflection of the observation window. It’s an almost haunting sight, one that sends a chill down your spine and makes you stand up a bit straighter as you watch them level each other with glares full of contempt and malice.

“Hungry dogs are never loyal. They’ll eat with anybody who has food. And yours are ravenous.”

“The same could be said for yours, Scourge. Many wonder how much bending that Berserker can take before he breaks. Others say that the slave will turn tail and run the moment the doors of the whorehouse open. My money, on the other hand, is on the Spectre.”

If either man hears the audible gasp of panic that slips between your lips, they opt not to comment on it. Jisung’s lips twist a bit, curving into an ugly smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

“You’d be nothing more than a fool to believe that any of my dogs are not fed well under my care.”

“Is that what happened during your mutiny? Which dog were you, Kim Hongjoong? From the stories I’ve heard, you were starved to the bone.”

Hongjoong shows an admirable sense of restraint in that moment; he barely lets any emotion slip through his features or stance even though you are certain that he is just as shocked as you are.

“The weakest links are always the first to go. The ones with the most to lose, and thus… the Spectre will break first. Because whether you acknowledge it or not, I have something he is desperate to see again.” Jisung shifts to face you. His eyes glint under the fluorescent lights of the bridge. “What happens when you throw a hungry dog a bone?” It’s nothing more than a rhetorical question, one meant to scare you, and that it does because your heart clenches painfully in your chest and squeezes around itself until you can barely stand up straight. “He swallows it whole.”

You watch Jisung leave without daring to speak one more word to him. Hongjoong doesn’t move away from the observation window quite yet, and even as you look over his reflection in the window, you cannot for the life of you gauge what emotions are running through his body.

“Would you truly have shot me?” You ask before you can stop yourself. The adrenaline of having a gun pointed at your head with such little care for your life is not something foreign but to have Hongjoong be the person to do so… you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his tone was far too resolute for that. But then, he shakes his head in denial.

“Never. I made a promise to keep you safe, and I made similar promises to the rest of the crew that no matter what, I would always do whatever is in my power to keep you all safe. To keep our crew safe. I am not about to let Han Jisung take that from my crew.” Hongjoong folds his hands behind his back. His boots scrape against the floor as he spins on his heel and heads back to the captain’s seat.

“What… what did Jisung mean by his ‘dogs’ if he works under Vladimir?” Jongho is the one to pose the question, and it brings Yeosang away from the comms station to listen in on the conversation better. Hongjoong tilts his head from side to side, letting a quiet hum ring through the room before speaking again.

“Did you truly believe that when Jisung told you that? I thought I taught you all to think more critically than that. After all, who in the universe could want you badly enough to kidnap and work with deadly pirates?” Hongjoong looks you dead in the eye as he asks the question. You scoff to deflect the panic it sends through your system.

“With a bounty like mine, it’s enough for anyone to resort to violence of some sort.”

“Word gets around quickly, and people hear things fast in our little world. Pirates are good at transmitting information swiftly. Which means that everyone already knows you are now employed by the Black Scourge’s crew. So I’ll ask again: who could possibly want you badly enough to cross me of all people?”

There is only one answer to that question, and that answer just walked off the bridge not too long ago. You can’t bring yourself to admit it with your words, although you don’t need to because Hongjoong simply continues speaking without missing a beat.

“Jisung made no mistakes. There were no missteps. When we were in the arena, there was never any intention of kidnapping you. There was no hesitation on his part, he knew what he was doing, he knew how to play into your hands. He made a deal with Vladimir — allow his own crew to get into the arena so that he could take two of my crew, then he would kidnap Mingi for Vladimir as payment. Because Jisung knew there was an easier way to get you since he knew what kind of person you are from time in the military together. He knew that if he took your teammates, you would not hesitate to sacrifice yourself for their safety. And thus, he made his offer: an exchange of you for your crewmate’s recovery. In reality, he was the one who took them intentionally in the first place.”

A smile twists at the man’s lips, one that is almost unsettling and disturbing, and you find yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot as you look down at him.

“I played right into his hands then,” you murmur, glancing away to grant yourself some semblance of peace.

“That may be the case, yes… however, once something is mine, I don’t particularly like letting go of it. If there’s one thing I have in common with such a person, it’s that. I am undeniably selfish, Y/N. And now that you’re here with me, I don’t intend to let anyone take you from my hands. If he wants you so desperately, then he will have to go through hell to get you, and giving people hell is my specialty.”

“Is that the same reason you pointed a gun at my head?”

“Every man has his price. I find threats to be quite effective in securing bargains and deals. Before I placed that gun to your head, he didn’t imagine I could be so cruel. And now… I’ve only confirmed every suspicion that has been eating at my mind since I woke up.”

“And those suspicions would be what?” You dare to ask, leveling the man seated before you with a stare that he regards out the corner of his eye.

“Han Jisung is nothing but a hungry dog, and I intend to make him bite.”

✧✧✧ a/n: haha? 17.2k WHO?! gotta admit this is my fave chapter i’ve ever written the ending hits im v proud of her ! what did i say i said she would be a long one but even i didn’t expect this i cannot lie well as i said i am dropping and yeeting (to sleep) but i’ll be here to watch my chaos unfold a bit first ;3 as ALWAYS let me know what you think, give me the juicy deets, the theories, the screaming, the ‘caly how could you’, and all that jazz it’s SO good to be posting a mists chapter yall have no idea how happy it makes me to do this again fogijdfiogaj, she’s heavily unedited tho so im sorry in advance for grammatical issues

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy @fuckjoong​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[quicksilversquared]

The Cat’s Girlfriend

Apparently not satisfied with the attention that her stories and previous Ladyblog interviews are getting her, Lila decided to claim that she was dating Chat Noir, which Chat Noir's civilian self has some problems with that. He can't really dispute the claim as Adrien, but- well, sometimes opportunities pop up when they're least expected.

links in the reblog

Lila had loved telling her superhero stories for months. She had become Ladybug's best friend only days after arriving in Paris, of course. Her grandparents had been superheroes in Italy. She and Ladybug hung out all the time, eating snacks that Lila had baked herself- she had been taught by a master baker, after all, and Ladybug set fire to anything she tried to bake, so it only made sense- and talking battle strategy. Ladybug took Lila to her and Chat Noir's hangout spots all the time- Lila showed off pictures that had clearly been taken from the top observation deck at night as proof. She helped Ladybug match powers and Miraculous, and wasn't it a pity that her hard work helping had been destroyed with Queen Wasp's appearance?

But her claim that she was actually dating Chat Noir? That was new.

Their classmates oohed and ahhed, exchanging excited looks while Lila ducked her head bashfully, not-so-subtly basking in the attention and fielding questions with a shy look on her face.

"Apparently her last story had stopped getting her enough attention," Plagg snickered from inside of Adrien's jacket. "Whatcha going to do about this story? Just let people believe that Chat Noir is dating Lila?"

"What else can I do?" Adrien hissed back. He didn't like it, but Adrien wasn't supposed to know what was going on in Chat Noir's private life. If he tried to claim anything else, then people would be suspicious and it would just draw unwanted attention. If he had an opportunity to correct the story as Chat Noir, then he would, but the chances of him getting that opportunity? Really low.

(After all, if he brought it up out of the blue, then that would suggest that he was close enough to hear Lila, unless Alya posted about it on her blog. And even if she did... well, it might be seen as mean-spirited to just bring up and bash that one specific claim when he hadn't been asked about it, even if it would totally be well within his right to do so.)

The bell cut off the questions, and everyone broke away from huddle around Lila. Almost against his will, Adrien's attention slid backwards as Alya and Marinette returned to their seats. No doubt Marinette would point out the very obvious holes in Lila's claims- after all, everyone with eyes could see that Chat Noir was interested in Ladybug, not a random lying civilian- and then Alya would just dig her heels in, ignoring all of the holes in the story in favor of complaining that Marinette wasn't giving Lila a chance.

It happened every time, after all. Adrien could understand why- it was really annoying to see their friends suckered, over and over again, and Marinette was all about justice and fairness- but they just weren't getting anywhere.

(He had tried jumping in on Marinette's side the week before, because Lila had been trying to get a class outing rescheduled because she was "going to be gone" and "would hate to miss it- she would feel so left out!" and rescheduling would have fallen on Marinette, but Alya had just dug in even deeper, meeting his resistance with her own. So that- well, it hadn't worked.)

(Thankfully Marinette had flat-out refused to change the date, informing the entire class that if they wanted to come up with a second outing on a date that worked for Lila, that was up to them but she was too busy to change everything.)

"She's so lucky that she's Chat Noir's girlfriend," Alya was gushing behind Adrien. "Ladybug as her best friend, Chat Noir as her boyfriend- I bet Ladybug introduced the two of them! And it's no wonder that he's interested, because she's a sort of civilian superhero on her own, isn't she? With all of her charity work and everything."

Adrien cringed. Here it came, another argument between two besties-

"You know, I bet that Chat Noir would love to tell you how they got together! He seems the romantic type- y'know, the kind to absolutely gush about their girlfriend?"

Adrien's mind flatlined.

...what.

"I bet that would make a really great video for the Ladyblog," Marinette continued, and Adrien turned to- well, not to stare, because that would be rude, but to try to figure out what was going on. Had Marinette been akumatized? Or, more likely, had Lila been akumatized and now was controlling Marinette like a puppet? "I know you said that videos have been slow lately, because too many of the fights have been too dangerous for you to get close, so maybe a superhero's personal life interest piece would help with that?"

"Ooh, yeah!" Alya agreed, hand shooting out to snag her notebook and pencil, and Adrien blinked in confusion. Had both of them been taken over by weird body-snatchers or something? Their Lila-centric conversations never went like this. "I can interview both of them! Lila said that I could ask her about their relationship after class today, so I can get her side of the story then, but yeah, my viewers would love to hear it from Chat Noir, too. I'll ask him for the story after the next akuma fight! Well, the next one I can get to," she corrected, looking a bit sheepish. "My parents said that if I run off again and leave my sisters in the apartment when I'm meant to be babysitting, I'll be grounded for a month. And I can't get out of school. But the next chance I get! Now I gotta think up questions before that happens- I can't get caught unprepared!"

Alya started scribbling furiously in her notebook, Adrien's eyes slid over to Marinette. She caught his gaze and her lips twitched up in a smirk before she winked, and it all fell into place. Once again, Marinette was proving just how smart she was and how well she could put that into practice when she wasn't letting her frustration blind her.

Clever, Marinette. Instead of doing the same thing she always did and arguing with Alya about Lila, she had outwardly gone along with it and in doing so, had managed to steer Alya into doing exactly what she wanted to. Now Alya would go to Chat Noir, not to fact check but just to get more information for her scoop, and end up find out exactly how truthless Lila's stories were.

...well, he might just get his perfect opportunity to debunk Lila's lies after all.

  It really was no real surprise when Ladybug and Chat Noir spotted Alya biking after them during the next akuma attack. She kept on their tails, cell phone apparently mounted on the front end of her bike to minimize the likelihood that she would lose control of the bike while steering one-handed, and was the first reporter on-site after the akuma had been defeated and it was safe to approach.

Considering that she wanted her story first, that was no real surprise. She had to get to them first, since Lila's "side of the story" had been filmed and posted the previous day. Adrien had been surprised by that, but after texting Marinette, it had all become clear. Alya had never been known for her patience, and, well, two posts and two videos were better than one! So she had posted the interview with Lila, promising a "part two" soon. That meant that people would be interested, and they would no doubt come back regularly until the part two was posted.

(And they would, Adrien knew that. Apparently Lila had heavily implied that she knew who Chat Noir's civilian self was, though she hadn't said it outright, and that had people clamoring for more interviews to try to get any clues they could.)

...he had to feel a little bad for Alya, honestly. There would be no easy way for her to hide the fact that she hadn't fact-checked any of her articles featuring Lila and her friendship with Ladybug, and that wouldn't reflect well on her. Still, she couldn't say that Marinette hadn't warned her.

Maybe this would just be a much-needed wake-up call to Alya that she couldn't just dig her heels in and not check her facts just because she thought that she was right.

"Ladybug! Chat Noir!" Alya called eagerly, biking over eagerly and yanking her phone from the holder as she practically tossed her bike aside. "Do you have a few minutes for a quick interview?"

"It depends on how quick," Ladybug quipped. "I have three minutes, I think, and Chat Noir, you have-?"

"Four." He considered Alya. "But I'll have to go in two or three to be safe."

"Great!" Alya practically shoved her phone in his face, and it was only his model training that kept Chat Noir from yanking his head back and giving himself several chins in the process. "So, I recently learned about your relationship with the one and only fantastic Lila Rossi, and Paris and I would love to hear your side of the story of how you got together!" The camera swung to Ladybug briefly. "And how you helped set them up!"

Hook, line, and sinker. He had Alya right where he wanted her. Thank you, Marinette.

"You must be mistaken, I'm not dating anyone," Chat Noir told her, pasting on his best puzzled look. "All of Paris knows that I only have eyes for Ladybug, after all. I don't know why anyone would think otherwise." He shrugged. "Someone must just be spreading rumors."

Alya paused, clearly taken aback. The phone inched backwards a hair. "But- but Lila told me herself! All about how Ladybug introduced the two of you, and how you got closer, and- and-"

Next to him, Ladybug let out an exasperated sigh. "I thought I told Lila to quit making up stories about knowing me months ago. It was annoying then, it's still annoying now, and I'm certainly not thrilled that she's dragging Chat Noir into it now, too. I'm sure that if she's been making up stories about other famous people, that they're not thrilled about it either."

Alya took a slow step back, looking a bit paler than usual. Admirably, though, she kept on filming, even though she had to know that her integrity as a reporter was getting torn apart live. "I- oh."

"The first time either of us met Lila Rossi was at or right before her akumatization into Volpina for the first time," Chat Noir chimed in. "And the only time either of us has come into contact with her is during akuma battles, either when she was akumatized herself or when she was purposefully getting in our way by claiming that she was badly injured and needed attention. If she's claiming otherwise- well, then it's her own fault if Hawkmoth decides to target her thinking that we're friends. I suspect that she's just making up all sorts of tall tales to get people to like her so that she can manipulate them into doing what she wants."

"Oh."

"I had hoped that such a public call-out wouldn't be necessary and that Lila would realize that lying about having connections with famous people such as superheroes was wrong, but clearly talking to her relatively privately hasn't done a thing." Ladybug glanced around at all of the assembled reporters. They had caught up now and were eagerly recording. "So I might as well make it clear: We are not connected to Lila Rossi in any way. I am not friends with her, Chat Noir is not dating her, and any claims to the contrary are not at all based in fact. She is lying about having connections for her own gain, and I would take any stories she tells with a huge grain of salt." She waved, winding up to throw her yo-yo. "Bug out!"

...well, clearly Ladybug wasn't going to give Lila any wriggle room. Harsh, but admittedly deserved at this point.

"She said it all, folks," Chat Noir told the cameras with a winning smile. "Any stories from Lila Rossi should probably not be trusted, at least not without a very in-depth check first. If something sounds too good to be true, well..." He shrugged, determined not to lose his cheer. "It just might be."

With that, Chat Noir took off into the sky, heading back home and feeling lighter than he had for a while, a load off of his shoulders now that the rest of the world- well, Paris at least- knew not to trust Lila Rossi. Maybe it was a bit of a dramatic approach to the problem, as highly publicized as the call-out had been, but if he had learned nothing else during the months of dealing with Lila that they had gone through, it was that she was slippery and would just come up with more excuses. Maybe there would be fallout- fallout that he had, admittedly, initially been hoping to avoid, with Lila no doubt pouncing on yet another akuma to try to get revenge- but in the end, everything would hopefully be better.

It was weird to say, really, but maybe Lila lying about dating Chat Noir had been the best thing that could have happened, since it had provided the perfect opening for the superheroes to correct the lies that she had been spreading without looking like they were picking her out unfairly. If they were super lucky, maybe the added publicity from all of the major news stations would get the attention of Lila's mom, and some of her other lies would start unraveling with a vengeance.

Even if that didn't happen, Alya and the rest of their classmates would be aware of Lila's lying now. They weren't going to trust her, which meant that Lila would be left powerless. She couldn't do anything when everyone around her was aware of her manipulations.

The rest of the school year was truly looking up.

[shijiujun]

Can I be cheeky& also jump on the Chuyao fic prompt bandwagon, please? Sham marriage idea proposed by LY when his sister appears to drag him back home. Except LY announces straight up he can't as he is with QCS (We are married...spiritually!) and everyone, even QCS, going wth??? Then there's chaos (LY family) but also support (Bai family /all of Shanghai)? And somehow LY & QCS evolve from friends to lovers? I imagine QCS will suffer in this fic becoz of LY antics. Thank you so much!!

ANON, HERE YOU GO: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225831

-

“You can’t take me away from Lao Qiao, he’s my husband!” Lu Yao blurts out suddenly in the chaos, yelling at the top of his lungs.

The ensuing silence comes swiftly, and it’s so quiet that he thinks he can hear everyone’s heartbeats.

“You are?” yells Youning, about to launch a ceramic vase at an unsuspecting person in front of her.

“I am?” thinks Chusheng, a fist of his opponent’s hair in his right hand.

--

Read the full chapter below

“You can’t take me away from Lao Qiao, he’s my husband!” Lu Yao blurts out suddenly in the chaos, yelling at the top of his lungs.

The ensuing silence comes swiftly, and it’s so quiet that he thinks he can hear everyone’s heartbeats.

“You are?” yells Youning, about to launch a ceramic vase at an unsuspecting person in front of her.

“I am?” thinks Chusheng, a fist of his opponent’s hair in his right hand.

Lu Yao regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth, because he’d said whatever was the first thing on his mind in this moment of crisis, if only to keep everyone from fighting to the death. How did the situation even escalate like this?

His sister (and his siblings, to be accurate) rarely find themselves surprised by their youngest brother, but this time, Lu Miao’s eyes go comically wide as his words sink in. As soon as the surprise comes, however, the cold fury sets in, and Chusheng turns around just in time to have Lu Miao turn her attention on him. If looks could kill…

Chusheng is a little ashamed to say that he might be dead right now.

“You better explain, Lu Yao,” seethes Lu Miao.

===

He sits uncomfortably on the chair in Bai Qili’s manor, looking at his hands on his laps. Next to him, Chusheng sits as well in silence. The man has not exposed him so far, and Lu Yao wonders if he will — on one hand he hopes fervently that Chusheng helps him through this, but the other part fears Chusheng’s anger and disgust after.

He embarrassed Chusheng in front of so many people earlier. Lu Yao basically fake-outed Chusheng and dragged him into this farce, a farce that has no easy solution.

Why didn’t he use his stupid brain before spouting nonsense?

“You must be joking,” Lu Miao snorts, considering Lu Yao. “Which church or registry would have allowed you to officially marry another man?”

“We’re married spiritually!” Lu Yao retorts, when no one else speaks up. “We did our baitang, three bows and all.”

Chusheng doesn’t contradict him, but Lu Yao can almost feel the murderous intent emanating off the inspector who’s sitting closest to him.

“You are being entirely ridiculous, if it’s not officially registered then it doesn’t count at all! You’re coming back with me right this instant-“

“Why are you always sticking your nose into my affairs where it’s not welcomed? I’m perfectly happy here, have you ever thought about what I want? I’m not three anymore, jie!”

They might have continued to argue for hours after, maybe shatter some plates and cups in the process, if not for Bai Qili’s intervention.

“… Lu-xiaojie, perhaps a baitang doesn’t mean much to you or the rest of the Lu family, but the Bai family and Green Dragon Gang takes the ceremony very seriously. Since San Tu is married to Chusheng by ritual, I’m afraid he is one of ours now. If your family insists, I’m sure I can make arrangements for an official registration, conventional or not," the man drawls, as imposing as ever.

Lu Yao almost gapes at Bai Qili — out of everyone present here in this living room, Lu Yao was sure the old man would be the first to beat him to death and then toss his body into the river for daring to corrupt his Chusheng, never mind that Lu Yao comes from a powerful family himself.

How would he not know what a taboo it is for two men to be together in Shanghai, or the rest of China? If they were overseas — Paris, London, anywhere, this would be much more acceptable, so to hear Bai Qili just go with the flow without a word of protest or even a look at Lu Yao is not what he expects of the head of the Bai family.

Finally daring to brave a look at Chusheng, Lu Yao sees his best friend glance over at the same time and freezes.

There’s no anger, not that Lu Yao can see. Some exasperation and resignation perhaps as Chusheng sports an expression that is similar to the one he has when he’s experiencing severe gastric.

San Tu, you can’t tell me you don’t know just how much he dotes on and gives in to you.

This was something Youning said a while ago, and he shudders, all the hair on his skin standing up as Chusheng reaches out a little hesitantly, and then wrapping Lu Yao’s smaller hand in his.

“Da-jie, lao ye-zi, I’m sorry for not informing the both of you earlier, this was indeed an oversight on my part. We completed the ceremony in the Green Dragon Gang’s altar hall… we were still figuring out how to tell you both. My apologies,” he lies smoothly. “And if here is where San Tu wants to stay, I won’t have anyone take him away from me.”

Fuck, Lu Yao curses internally, his eyes widening because why does this sound so, so real?

A squeeze around his hand reminds him that it’s his turn to play his part, and so Lu Yao continues, “Jie, please. I just want to be here with Lao Qiao. If you… if you decide to take me back home anyway, if you do anything to take him away from me… I won’t want to live anymore.”

Lu Miao stares for a good while, but tries again, “Do I not know you well enough? You won’t have the guts to do that. Stop theatening me, it won’t work-“

“You didn’t think I’d cut myself off from the family,” Lu Yao returns quietly. “But I got out from right under your nose, didn’t I? At least for the first year.”

“San Tu, do you even know what you’re doing? He’s a gang member!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with a gang member? Are you looking down on my brother?” interrupts Youning suddenly, her hands on her hips as she furiously snaps at Lu Miao. “This gang member of a brother has been taking care of San Tu, where were you guys when he was down to his last silver and almost getting chased out of his house? It’s Lu Yao’s fortune to have bagged someone as outstanding as Chusheng-ge!"

Lu Yao pales a little at the mention of a fine example of how he’s not taking care of himself well and also at Youning’s insinuation that he married up, then hurries to say, “Jie, there’s no one else for me but Qiao Chusheng. Where he goes, I will go.”

Even in death, is the unspoken part to that declaration.

She falls silent at that. After a beat passes, Lu Miao turns her attention to Chusheng, as if saying, if my brother wants to be ridiculous, so be it, but are you going to ruin your reputation and everything you’ve built just to play along to his whims?

“And you love him?” she asks.

Unconsciously, Lu Yao clutches back at Chusheng’s hand in his, a plea.

“I love and cherish him above all else,” Chusheng replies without the slightest bit of hesitation.

If Lu Yao ignores everyone else around them, he can almost believe Chusheng when he says that.

===

It’s a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Lu Yao is curled up on the couch in Chusheng’s room at the Bai manor, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his fingers pressing at his temple as he contemplates just how much trouble he’s in. Not only has he pissed off his sister, because he’s sure Chusheng is mad at him too.

Now that the anger at his sister and the Lu family has abated somewhat, Lu Yao is finally left alone in his thoughts as he marvels at how bold he was earlier.

He regrets it now of course, but damn, this is the first time he’s been able to pull one over his sister. As ridiculous as he was, Lu Yao manages to think through the consequences of his actions — mainly the possibility that his family will try to do anything and everything within their power to create trouble for Chusheng.

He’s already dealt Chusheng with such a heavy blow, and over his dead body will the Lu family hurt even a strand of hair on his head, Lu Yao vows.

The only other problem is Chusheng’s happiness in the future. Once the news of his sham marriage with Chusheng goes out, will women dare to approach him after? What if there’s a woman that Chusheng really, really likes right now, and Lu Yao has basically ruined everything for him?

Would Chusheng hate him?

So absorbed he is in his thoughts, his teeth gnawing lightly at his nails, that he misses Chusheng’s entry into the room until the man flops down right next to him on the couch. Lu Yao startles so much that he almost falls off the edge of his seat, if not for Chusheng’s fast reflexes.

“You are honestly…” Chusheng admonishes without heat, sounding absolutely tired.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao rarely apologizes and admits his wrongdoings, but here he is. “Lao Qiao, I’m so sorry, I swear I wasn’t thinking-“

“Did I spoil you too much?” the man sighs, leaning into his seat with his eyes closed. “That you would pull such a huge lie in front of your family and mine and think that I would, without question, play along?”

The phrasing is strange enough that Lu Yao knows Chusheng is really, really upset.

Panicked, he replies, “Lao Qiao, I- I’ll go and tell them that it was a lie. I just… I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking! I’ll tell Bai lao-ye that it’s a lie, that you’re helping me deceive my sister, so don’t-“

Don’t be angry with me, don’t ignore me, don’t hate me.

“Forget it. You made the announcement to more than 60 people today, San Tu. I just barely smoothed this over with lao ye-zi, and what’s done has been done,” Chusheng finally says, patting at Lu Yao’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow. You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Other than the fact that Lu Yao doesn’t sleep well in new environments, the events of today have rattled him significantly, and with Chusheng lying on the couch surely awake as well, Lu Yao finds himself staring at the ceiling until dawn breaks.

Lu Yao knows he can fix this for Chusheng.

Can’t he?

===

“Inspector Qiao, congratulations!”

“Da-ge, congratulations! What kind of a brother are you huh, you got married and didn’t think to get us to throw a party for you?”

“Ahh… no wonder Detective Lu has been spending so much time with you recently. You hid it so well, lao-da!”

Chusheng has to be immensely thankful for the support from his brothers and the people who actually know him, like the owners of the snack stalls he frequents, even the newspaper boys that Chusheng regularly tips and everyone at the station. Telegrams start coming in from other precincts that are headed by several other members of the gang, and even some of the petty criminals that are stuck in the holding cell at the station for a few weeks give him their blessings.

Of course, while the people happy for him and Lu Yao actually number more than Chusheng expected, there are as many others who gossip and shoot him strange looks. He can almost hear the, look at him, such a fine young man, if not for his unconventional tastes in a partner.

By the end of the morning, Chusheng has unplugged all electronic communication devices in his office and the doors are firmly locked, with instructions to Salim to not let anyone in unless an entire village is on the cusp of imminent death.

He’s trying his best not to think too much about it. Chusheng meant what he said to Lu Miao before, that there isn’t much he can do for Lu Yao except to ensure that he will not suffer in silence. With the stunt Lu Yao pulled yesterday, this is the best Chusheng can do for him. For now, his strategy is to simply wait until everyone has forgotten that he and Lu Yao are married, and then…

And then what?

It’s not as if baitang is child’s play. Can he simple fake-divorce Lu Yao at the end of this? When will this end, in the first place? A year? Two years, a decade? And let’s say if they do manage that, will any proper and self-respecting woman even consider him?

Chusheng doesn’t have any prejudice against same-sex couples — back when he worked at the docks which saw an all-male staff, sometimes he heard stories about how some brothers would help each other out and find companionship in each other as well — but not everyone shares the same views as he.

At the thought, Chusheng calls, “Ah Dou.”

Ah Dou, who is patiently sorting through Chusheng’s actual work documents and the pile of congratulatory messages that came for him today, looks up from where he’s standing at the shelves.

“Get Liu Zi to send some brothers to protect Lu Yao,” he says with a frown.

That dumbass probably wouldn’t even notice if someone was intending to do him harm and with the way the gossip mill is running, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

And as for the future, possibly marrying a woman…

Chusheng shakes his head, clearing his mind of wishful thoughts.

For someone who doesn’t know if he can live to see the next day, who has blood all over his hands and is no good person at all, Chusheng has never expected to have his own family.

Not even Lu Yao should be tied down to him.

Salim pops his head through a small opening in the doors and asks, “Sir! Two congratulatory flower stands came for you, do you want me to set it up outside the office?”

Finally, Chusheng loses it.

“Anyone who makes another congratulatory remark can spend a night in jail!” he snaps. “What, do people not have anything better to do? I’m not fucking kidding. I don’t want to hear another message coming through the doors of the station, do you hear me?”

“Okay,” Salim replies a little dejectedly, closing the door shut behind him again.

Of course, his outburst and anger is what Lu Yao hears about a few hours later. Remorseful, he turns up at the station and sneaks into Chusheng’s office.

“… what’re you doing here?” Chusheng asks, looking up from his papers.

“Lao Qiao… I’m sorry,” he apologizes, biting at his lower lip. “I didn’t realize there’d be such a huge fuss over this.”

Lu Yao is the perfect picture of a sad, pitiful puppy, and Chusheng has all along doted on Lu Yao, so the image does tug at his heartstrings. As soon as the urge to comfort him comes, Chusheng frowns.

He’s got this all wrong. He’s the one who was wronged and taken advantaged of, so why does Lu Yao look like he’s the one being bullied?

Sighing, Chusheng kicks at the chair in front of him, signalling for Lu Yao to sit down.

“I’m not angry, San Tu. I would have appreciated some warning, and maybe we could have thought things through a little, but as I said last night, that’s all been done and we can’t turn back,” he points out.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Lu Yao swears, “I… I’ll take on all the cases you have while this marriage thing is going on for free? I can… I promise I won’t make you pay for any of my meals again, Lao Qiao. I… I won’t even hang around anymore outside of a case, just… just…”

At that, Chusheng finally laughs, and the sound is a huge relief for Lu Yao, who hasn’t heard him laugh since the shit that went down yesterday.

“I’ll hold you onto the first two then,” Chusheng says nonchalantly. “San Tu ah, what are you thinking? We’re brothers, are we not? You said before that you cherish the friends you have here and… it’s the same for me. If it’s something you want to do, or don’t want to do, I’m at your back ready to support you. For as long as this ruse has to last.”

“Even… if that means you’re in a gay relationship with me? Even if no woman would want to marry you after this?”

“Even then,” Chusheng nods. “I’m no good person to marry anyway.”

“That’s not true!” Lu Yao protests.

“Alright,” Chusheng waves him off. “I’ve already gotten earfuls from Youning and lao ye-zi for not treating you right, so… I guess since everyone thinks we’re married now, you need to move in to my apartment. Get Liu Zi to help you pack, and you really should move in as soon as possible.”

Lu Yao didn’t even think of that. As the implications of staying together with Chusheng sink in, he stiffens in his seat.

“What, you laid your claim on me first and now you’re being all shy about it?” snorts Chusheng, reaching over and poking at Lu Yao’s forehead. “I have an extra room, so don’t worry, husband.”

“Mnn,” Lu Yao nods at that, and his cheeks flush a little pink at the term. “I’ll go pack then.”

“And we have to do dinner at the Bai manor tonight!” calls Chusheng after him.

At the door, Lu Yao blanches.

===

They live together as friends from then on. Compared to Youning, Chusheng is the perfect roommate. At the very least, the likelihood of Chusheng setting something on fire is minimal, and the man’s house surprisingly suits Lu Yao’s tastes. As promised, there is enough space for them to have a bedroom each, and the storage room at the back turns into half a study for Lu Yao and his books.

Lu Yao decides that the least he can do is cook (and now that he has lost his source of income by offering to work for free, the only way he gets fed without having to pawn off his treasures is to ask for grocery money from Chusheng) for them both. When Chusheng realizes that Lu Yao is cooking regularly, he starts coming home early on a daily basis as well.

Bai Le Men and Chang San Tang are off-limits, unfortunately. For now, Chusheng is experiencing what it’s like to live as a monk, but the inconveniences stop there.

In fact, having Lu Yao in the same house as he has its perks, namely the ability to drag Lu Yao out of bed early in the morning for cases.

It’s their first case since the announcement and there is no lack of attention on them, as this is the first time they’re being seen out in public together. When some men in the crowd begin to focus on Lu Yao with less than friendly gazes, Chusheng naturally steps closer to him, his eyes steadily sweeping over the crowd.

He’s mine, he’s trying to say, if you’ve got anything you want to say you come at me.

They solve the murder two days later, and Lu Yao jumps in surprise when Chusheng slides three silvers over the top of the dining table, his usual payment for consulting on cases.

“What…”

“Save it,” Chusheng’s eyes crinkle a little as he smiles, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeing my wallet recently.”

Touched, Lu Yao feels hot tears come to his eyes, “Lao Qiao, I knew it, you’re the best to me-“

“Yeah, remember that the next time you try to use me to lie to your family. I don’t want you to spring an adopted child on me next,” Chusheng downs his wine, shaking his head.

Not as many changes happen after his fake-marriage to Lu Yao, much to Chusheng’s bewilderment.

On a usual day, it’s typical for him to buy breakfast, lunch or dinner for Lu Yao even before they began to live together. The only difference is that he’s going out to buy breakfast every day now before Lu Yao wakes up instead of every few days. Chusheng still chauffeurs him up and down, only the destination is no longer the apartment he shared with Youning, but Chusheng’s house.

Before this, he had Lu Yao’s cooking frequently too as the man would roll up his sleeves and cook for him and Youning at least one a week or every two weeks. They’re both slowly getting used to each other in close proximity, and the latest of developments involve them making grocery trips together every four days.

Everything else has stayed pretty much the same.

When Chusheng sees an imported coat made of high quality sheep’s fur as he passes by a store one day, he doesn’t even think much of it before he’s walking in and buying the expensive outerwear for Lu Yao. The price doesn’t even cross his mind. All he knows is that Lu Yao will like this.

He presents the bag to Lu Yao over dinner the same day, and Chusheng is right.

Lu Yao loves it so much that he leans over the table and presses a kiss to Chusheng’s cheek in excitement.

“What, are you really that happy?” Chusheng teases, but warmth fills him as he sees that he’s made the right choice.

“Of course I am! You know how scared I am of the cold,” Lu Yao points out, hugging the material to himself. “This material is known for trapping heat in!”

A few weeks later, Lu Yao ironically catches the flu bug despite how protected he is, and ends up bedridden with fever. To better take care of him, Chusheng lets Lu Yao rest in his bed so he doesn’t have to run between two rooms.

The bed sleeps two now, even after Lu Yao has made a full recovery. It feels less empty that way and both Chusheng and Lu Yao find themselves warmer under the covers sharing a bed.

As the weeks go by, they shift from having their own sides of the bed, to falling asleep and waking up in each other’s arms, their legs tangled together. Most of the time, Chusheng wakes to Lu Yao’s hair in his nose and his arm resting over Lu Yao’s waist.

And when Chusheng gets hurt by a rival gang involved in their latest case, Lu Yao tells the nurse outside the operating theatre that he’s Qiao Chusheng’s husband loudly. In the days after the operation. the nurses even bring an extra bed into the ward so Lu Yao can keep an eye on his husband.

The nurses and doctors, for one, think that their relationship is cute.

They even survive a trip to Hai Ning to visit Lu Yao’s father. Chusheng has to endure four separate shovel talks, each sounding more deadly than the previous one, but they get to announce their relationship to Lu Yao’s mother at her grave too.

On the train journey back, Lu Yao dozes off against Chusheng’s shoulder. He lifts up his arm to hug Lu Yao to him so he’s laying a bit more comfortably without question, enjoying the feeling of having Lu Yao in his hold.

===

A year after Lu Yao tried to con his way into matrimony with Chusheng, he returns home to an empty house, Chusheng not yet returned from the station. As Lu Yao passes the dining table for the kitchen to put his groceries away, a piece of paper and a metal trinket catches his eye.

It’s a marriage certificate. As real as it can be, with Lu Yao and Chushueng’s name on it.

The realization that they’ve been living just like a married couple in the past year hits him like a freight train and his legs feel weak.

Indeed, they are as real as any married couple existent in the country, minus the sex.

Of course Lu Yao loves Chusheng. There has never been any question about that. Chusheng is the only person Lu Yao truly cares about, more than he cares about himself.

Wherever he goes, I will go, even in death, he said then.

I love and cherish him above all else, Chusheng had answered.

With a small smile tugging at his lips, Lu Yao slides the gold band onto his fourth finger.

Busy at the stove making Chusheng’s favourite beef stew when Chusheng comes home later, Lu Yao is prepared when the man comes close, sliding his arms around his waist and pressing himself against Lu Yao’s back, his chin hooked on Lu Yao’s shoulder.

It’s not difficult to catch the gleam of an identical band sitting on Chusheng’s hand/

“Smells good,” Chusheng inhales deeply.

Lu Yao sets the spatula aside and covers the pot with a lid to let it simmer, and once he’s free, Chusheng turns him around and reaches for his lips.

They kiss softly as if they’ve done this countless of times, when it’s only their first, proper kiss, but it doesn't matter.

“Tomorrow,” Chusheng breathes, his forehead pressed against Lu Yao’s after they part finally for air.

“Let’s baitang for real in the ancestral hall.”

===

*baitang 拜堂 - Traditional Chinese wedding custom which involves three kowtows, there are variations but usually the couple kowtows to heaven & earth, to their ancestors, and then to their parents. Some baitangs will have the couple kowtowing to each other.

[joyful-soul-collector]

No problem, kid

Prompt: Fainting

@canonismybitch​ asked: CONGRATULATIONS ON 400 FOLLOWERS!!! Could I request Fainting for IronDad? (I'm a sucker for Peter whump ngl) also, pretty please could you add me to your tag list?

Thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write! And as you already know by now, yes, you have been added to the tag list ;] 

Irondad Tag List: @phahbiyah​ @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars​ @clevermuffinalmondpeach​ @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe​ @canonismybitch​ @freckledmountain​ @hold-our-destiny​ + @badthingshappenbingo​

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

TWs: Fainting obviously, some negative self-talk, and while no one has an eating disorder in this fic, I do describe his hunger a lot so if you're triggered by that you may want to be careful

Read on Ao3

Peter hated gym. You’d think that after getting superstrength it’d be more fun, but it was honestly no better than before. At least, not since the “no food outside the cafeteria” rule had been implemented. Apparently a lot of kids thought it was funny to hide food in cupboards so it would mold and rot in there, and the school banned eating any food outside the cafeteria. 

This wasn’t a big deal for anyone except for Peter. His enhanced metabolism burned so fast that Tony had compared it to Captain America’s, and Peter had to eat every hour to keep up with it. Hourlies, he called them. Normally you’d never see Peter without a snack in his hand, usually a special protein bar made specifically for his needs, but now Peter’s hands and belly were often empty. 

Especially in gym class. Gym was his last class of the day, which meant by now his lunch had been hours ago and his stomach was screaming with hunger. He’d tried to sneak food in the locker room but he was caught almost every time as apparently the lockers were the place the most rotten food had been found, so the teachers kept an extra close eye out. 

So here he was, running back and forth across the gym, his stomach rumbling so loud Ned could hear it beside him. 

“Jesus Peter,” Ned muttered as his belly gave a particularly loud growl. “Are you like, okay?”

“No, I’m fucking starving,” Peter said, rubbing his middle as it spasmed painfully. “God I hate this. It’s only been a week and I feel like I’m going insane.”

“This can’t be good for you Peter, you should really tell someone,” Ned said worriedly. “I really don’t like seeing you going hungry like this.” Peter gave a small chuckle as they started running again. 

“I tried, they didn’t listen to me. But I’m alright, I’m Spider-Man, a little hunger can’t stop me,” he said. But when his stomach rumbled so loud Peter saw a couple people glance at him, Ned raised his eyebrows. 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that was ‘a little hunger’,” he said. Peter’s face went red and he looked away, quiet. Well, quiet except for his belly. 

They ran in relative silence for a few minutes, until somehow, Peter actually started to feel worse. Something he didn’t actually know was possible. 

His head started pounding and his vision began swimming lazily as a wave of nausea overtook him. Peter stumbled, and was buffeted to the side by several runners behind him, almost falling over until Ned caught him by the elbows. 

“Peter? Peter are you okay!?” he asked, the look of worry distorted in Peter’s eyes. 

“I-I think I’m gonna pass out,” Peter mumbled. Peter fell against the wall and slid into a sitting position, clutching his face in his hands as the world swam around him. 

“Shit, shit, I knew this was gonna happen,” Ned said. “Okay, let’s get you to the nurse.”

Peter nodded, and stood up. 

But suddenly, the world was black, and the biting hunger was gone. 

~~~

“Kid. Kid, wake up, c’mon Pete, let’s get you back to the tower,” said a voice, slowly pulling Peter back to consciousness. 

“Mmm?” Peter opened his eyes to find a slightly blurry, concerned face looking down at him. Tony. “Oh. Hey, Tony.”

The frown in Tony’s brow deepened and he made a noise of sympathy. 

“Jeez, you really are sick, aren’t you? Why did you go to school like this?” Peter raised his eyebrows. 

“They told you I was sick?” he mumbled, sitting up and massaging his stomach as the deep ache returned. 

“What else would they have told me?” Tony asked. Peter sighed and shook his head. 

“Let’s just go. I’ll explain when we get in the car,” he muttered. Peter pushed himself up with shaking arms and Tony gently put his hand under one of his elbows to help him up. 

“You’re shaking,” Tony said, concern now filling his voice. 

“I know,” Peter said grimly. “I just wanna get out of here.” Tony opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and quickly started the process of signing Peter out of school. Peter sat at one of the chairs in the main office, hugging his backpack to his aching tummy, willing it not to growl in the quiet room. 

Eventually they were able to leave, and they made their way as quickly as they could to the car Tony had parked out front. Tony took his backpack and put it in the trunk while Peter eased himself into the passenger seat. He pressed his fingers deep into his belly as it cramped with hunger. 

“I know, I know,” he muttered to his stomach, hearing the trunk slam behind him. “We’ll eat in a little bit. Not long now.” Tony sat in the driver's seat a second later, and looked at Peter with concern. 

“Alright kid. Out with it, what’s going on?” he said, putting on hand comfortingly on Peter’s knee. Peter opened his mouth, but his stomach interrupted him with a loud growl. 

It was so loud Peter could feel the empty rumbles against his palms, and he closed his eyes in embarrassment and misery, curling in on himself and wishing he would sink into the earth forever. 

“Jesus… kid was that your stomach?” he heard Tony say, the sympathy in his voice making Peter’s ears turn red. 

“I-I haven’t eaten anything since lunch,” Peter muttered. “That’s why I passed out.” He suddenly felt his eyes start to sting. God this was such a stupid thing to cry about. He’s just hungry, this isn’t the end of the world, so why does he feel so awful?

“Oh, oh god Peter, okay, it’ll be alright kid, let’s just get you something to eat then, yeah?” Tony said, quickly starting up the car and driving out of the parking lot. Peter just nodded, unable to trust his voice to keep steady and trying his best not to let the tears spill from his eyes. It was another minute before Tony spoke again. 

“Why did the school tell me you were just sick? Why haven’t you eaten in so long, kid? We set up your Hourlies months ago, and with how you look right now I’d have a hard time believing you just forgot--”

“The school made a rule that we can’t eat outside the cafeteria. So the only times I’ve been able to eat are before school, at lunch, and sometimes I can sneak something between classes in the bathroom if I have enough time. They probably told you I was sick because no one else has passed out from hunger yet, so they assumed I was just the idiot who decided to go to school sick,” Peter said, massaging his tummy as it continued to spasm and gurgle. “Though I have a feeling Ned told them what happened and they just ignored him. Teachers don’t tend to listen to us. I even tried to tell a teacher I had some sort of stomach condition so I had to eat more often, but they just started pressing for details and saying they wanted to get a doctors note and permission from Aunt May and all this shit and I just… honestly I just decided to give up and deal with it. Even though I know Aunt May would give permission, I can’t get a doctor’s note, and I hate the idea of being singled out as The One Kid who’s allowed to eat in class. That’s a great way to get everyone to have a grudge against you.”

“Jeez…” Tony said. “How long has this been going on?”

“A week,” Peter muttered. 

“Kid, are you telling me you’ve been going hungry like this for a whole week? Why didn’t you tell me?” he exclaimed. 

“I don’t know, I just… after getting told no by the teacher I just didn’t bother. I haven’t been able to focus or think all week and I just… I didn’t even consider it. I’m sorry,” Peter said. Tony sighed and gave him a small pat on the shoulder. 

“It’s alright, nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, turning into the parking lot of a McDonalds. “A couple Big Macs you’re thinkin’ kid?” he asked. Peter’s belly answered with a deep grumble, and Tony nodded. “Four then. With fries and a milkshake.” 

Peter nodded shyly, and Tony gave him an encouraging smile as he got out of the car and hurried to the building to order Peter’s food. 

Peter took a deep breath, curling in on himself and hugging his stomach, clenching his teeth as more tears stung his eyes, eventually spilling out and rolling down his face. 

“Dammit, no, stop it, stop it stop it stop it, not again,” Peter muttered, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeves. 

Peter had cried almost every day since the ban had started, and honestly couldn’t figure out why. The first time happened at lunch, and he was barely able to keep his composure before rushing to the bathroom and bursting into tears. Another time had actually been at breakfast oddly enough, Aunt May had almost had him stay home from school. The time before now had been yesterday when he got home, tears rolling silently down his face as he dragged several containers of food out of the fridge. 

“Stop it, what’s wrong with you, you’re fine, stop being so stupid Peter, god. This isn’t something you cry over, you’re just hungry, you’re not dying, so stop being a fucking idiot--” The sound of the car door opening startled him into silence, and he looked up in surprise. 

“Alright kiddo, I got your food, I don’t often like using the ‘I’m famous’ card but considering the circumstances I thought we should be fast--” he cut off as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “Oh Pete, are you crying?”

“No! No, I-I’m fine, it’s stupid, I--”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay,” Tony said softly, sitting down and shutting the door. He held out the bag and Peter felt his mouth watering fervently as the smell hit his nose. His belly clenched hard and he quickly took the bag, trembling fingers wrapping around the greasy burger and opening it. 

The first bite sent Peter’s tummy into a frenzy, begging loudly for more, which he was all too happy to oblige. He started breathing heavily as he stuffed more food into his mouth, the tears spilling out of his eyes causing small whines of frustration between bites. 

And the tears only increased when Tony smoothed a hand on his back and started whispering words of comfort to him. 

“It’s okay buddy, you’re gonna be alright,” he said softly. Peter finished the burger a minute later, and he sat for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, gripping his knees and taking several slow, deep breaths. He was nowhere near satisfied, he still had three burgers, fries, and a milkshake left after all, but he finally felt well enough for the tears to ease a bit and let him speak. 

“I… I’m sorry I cried like that, I don’t know what’s wrong with me--”

“Woah, hey, no it’s okay to cry Pete, you’re alright,” Tony said, rubbing more circles into Peter’s back. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s just I don’t do that usually, but I’ve just been it doing all week and I don’t understand--”

“Peter, you haven’t been able to properly eat for a week. That really messes with you, both physically and emotionally. Your body and mind are overwhelmed and honestly, when that happens, you cry. Anyone who’s in your position would feel the same,” he said. Tony moved his hand from Peter’s back and put it under his chin, coaxing him to look up. “It’s okay, kiddo. You’re not being irrational. You just get some more food in your belly, and I’ll get us home, okay?”

Peter sniffed and nodded with a watery smile. Tony brushed a tear from Peter’s cheek and smiled back before starting the car. 

Peter finished another burger by the time they got to the tower, now feeling well enough to walk without his knees shaking. When they got to the living quarters they sat on the couch together, Peter tucked safely under Tony’s arm, munching happily on his burger and dipping his fries in his milkshake while they watched Star Wars. Peter went to sleep with his stomach heavy and full of food, and when he went back to school on Monday, the ban had been lifted for reasons nobody seemed to know. 

Peter sent Tony a thank you text that morning, crunching down happily on a granola bar in homeroom. 

No problem, kid.

[drarryangels]

Part 2 - “I don’t expect you to understand”

Part 1

Draco swallowed. He’d thought, when he left Harry lying in St. Mungo’s, that this part would be easy. That his heart had been broken by Harry Potter too many times to be broken again. He was wrong. 

It had only been a week, and Draco was lost in his grieving for someone who was not dead. He hated himself for thinking it, but having Harry and nearly losing him to Auror missions felt better than not having him at all. It wasn’t fair to himself to think that, he knew. He should be independent, happy on his own. Mostly, he missed Harry.

Draco shook his head slightly and blinked into the sweet fumes furling up around his cheeks. If he wasn’t careful, he would explode this potion all over himself. Felix felicis. It wasn’t for him, although part of him was tempted to take some and see what would happen to his day. As it turned out, a tiny bottle of the golden potion was selling for nearly 50 galleons. With Valentine’s Day approaching, people were clamoring over the stuff, amortentia being banned nearly a year back. It was a professional advance Draco couldn’t afford to miss, no matter how many thoughts of Harry were clouding his focus. 

A quiet knock clicked through his brewing room. Draco finished his careful stir pattern before responding. 

“Come back later!” he called. “Brewing is in progress.”

“Draco?” a familiar voice came through the door. 

Draco stopped cold. Ice burned down his forearms and through his heart before he started to reality and quickly resumed his stirring before the bubbling gold liquid exploded.

“Not open for clients!” Draco shouted through the door, trying his best to control the trembles that kept clamoring through his body. 

“Draco,” the voice came again. “You know I’m not a client.”

Draco huffed. “You’ll have to come back later. I’m in the middle of a potion.”

“Can’t we talk?” The voice was so warm, so full of everything Draco loved. Dozens of memories pressed against the backs of his eyelids, and Draco blinked furiously, trying to push them all back. If he got lost in everything... all the memories, the moments, the touches, the laughs.... well, this potion could be considered toast. Already, it was turning too dark at Draco’s unsure administrations. If he wasn’t careful, this potion would be all over the room in a matter of seconds. 

Draco shook his head harder. He’d paid too much for these ingredients and had too many clients waiting on this potion to ruin this. 

“Go away, Harry,” he snapped. The sound of Harry’s name in his mouth startled him. He dropped the ladle into the potion, and bubbles of thick hot liquid burst over the top of the cauldron, splattering all over Draco’s face, arms, and chest. 

Draco yelped and quickly tried to cut off the sounds of pain emitting from his mouth while his flesh sizzled and burned. 

“Draco?” Harry’s voice was louder now. “Are you okay?”

Draco shook his head while he watched the pale stretches of his flesh transform into something inhuman and monstrous. He couldn’t scream or move, the pain was too great. Before Draco could drag himself to his neutralizing table, he was falling to the floor, completely out of control of the use of his limbs. 

It took nearly a full minute before his brain started truly processing what was happening to him. Horribly curved spikes dug under his flesh, ripping into what Draco knew was his veins, burning him up from the inside out. He tried not to scream. He really did. He wasn’t ready to see Harry yet, even if he might be dying. If it meant he would be paralyzed for the rest of his life, he didn’t mind putting off his surely dreadful reunion with Harry until another day. Another year maybe, when all these feelings had passed. 

Draco knew that was an illusion. Everything he felt for Harry was infinite. He was his love, and had been since the day they had met in Madame Malkin’s. It was out of control and would never end. Even so, thinking it might be true consoled Draco slightly as the properties of ashwinder egg, a crucial ingredient in felix felicis, absorbed through his skin and throughout his body. 

Dimly, Draco heard a door slamming open and someone calling his name. Harry, surely. He had been on the other side of the door, Draco knew. But all that mattered at the moment was the cool stone floor against his face and the realization that however beautiful the potion for luck was, it’s truth was cruel and burning. 

There were arms around him, and then Draco was crying. Really crying. Not the few tears that had ruined a Pepper-Up potion Draco had made earlier that morning. Not a slight dribbling of onion induced tears. Full on sobbing. Inside his body, fire was catching alight, turning him inside out. Draco could think of nothing else. 

But then someone’s hands were tilting his head back and pouring a cool potion into his mouth, and everything came into focus while the pain slowly subsided. Dark skin and curly hair pieced together in Draco’s vision to form a very familiar person. 

“Draco?” Harry whispered, still holding on tightly to Draco, who had somehow ended up sprawled across Harry’s lap on the floor. 

Draco closed his eyes. “What did you do?” He knew Harry would know what he meant, and that he wasn’t accusing him. 

“You have an antidotes shelf,” Harry said quietly. “I know how to read.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, and struggled to sit up. “Now please leave. I need to attend to my wounds.”

“Your wounds?” Harry laughed incredulously. “Draco, you need to go to St. Mungo’s now. You can’t see yourself, you-” Harry’s voice broke. “Your skin.”

A gentle finger edged over the burnt skin exposed by Draco’s rolled up sleeves. The finger disappeared, and quickly became known again as it brushed over Draco’s collarbone, which was also severely burnt. 

“No,” Draco said harshly and shoved Harry away from him. The floor was hard when he fell on it, but nothing hurt more than being touched by Harry when he knew that it would only crush him again. “Please don’t touch me.”

“Draco,” Harry’s voice was cracked and teary. He sat back on his knees and held his hands out, like he was reaching for something reverently precious, but knew he could not touch it. “Please. I miss you. So much. Like someone has ripped my heart out and-”

“No,” Draco looked at Harry. His beautiful face, flushed and streaked with salt. “Do you need me to say it again?” Draco took a deep breath and hauled himself to his knees using the edge of his work table. “I can take care of myself.”

“But, Draco, you’re hurt.”

“Not hurt enough to need you.” Draco knew the moment he’d said it that he’d gone too far. That he’d stretched this lie too far. Harry wouldn’t know he didn’t mean it. Harry never knew how to pick up little cues like that. Draco always knew when people were lying and hurting but wouldn’t say anything. Draco was the one who could tell when Harry was feeling too awful about the world himself to be kind to anything. Harry used his heart to see, though, not logic. 

Draco didn’t try to take it back or say anything else to help. He kneeled, leaning heavily on the table, as Harry cried. Some sick part of him thought that Harry might get a taste of what it felt like to be Draco, always lost and wondering if his husband would ever return to him. Some kinder part of him urged him to go to Harry and forgive him and apologize, and then hug him so tightly that he forgot how to breathe. 

He only sat and tried not to black out from the festering of his flesh until Harry looked up from the ground and met Draco’s eyes. 

“Draco, I’m sorry,” Harry forced out between silent sobs. “I’m supposed to protect you. I promised I would. Always.” There was silence again while Harry swallowed his own tears. “I didn’t do that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Draco said. He slid down to the floor and flopped against the table. He couldn’t hold himself up any longer. Not from Harry, and not from this bloody potion.

Harry was right in front of him and apologizing, and oh Merlin, why hadn’t he let this happen sooner. Harry’s hair was longer than it had been when he had last seen him, only a week ago. Curly and dark and wildly taking over his face. And his cheeks, ruddy red and beautiful and ready to be kissed. His form, all slumped over when it should be tall. 

Draco missed him. So much that it hurt his stomach. He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to admit it that this part of his life was so far out of his control, but it was because it was in Harry’s hands. All of it. His heart, his soul, his mind, his body. Truly, he belonged with Harry. Being away from him hurt. Too badly to consider. 

Draco knew, deep down, somewhere between his rib cage, that things had to change in order for them to work. He knew that he couldn’t put himself through another three years of Harry’s death defying missions. 

Harry knew it too. 

“Draco... love, please,” Harry mumbled, “I love you. Too much. My heart hurts being away from you. It always has. On all those missions, I- I was lost without you. I loved my job. I really did. But I love you more.”

Draco held out his arms to Harry, and Harry scooted across the flagstones until he was almost on top of Draco. His arms came around Draco carefully, barely touching him. Draco brought his face closer to Harry’s and pressed his lips into Harry’s cheek. 

“I love you, Harry,” he said. It was the only thing in life that would always be true. 

“Maybe it took seeing that potion exploding all over you to really know it,” Harry stuttered. “To get some grip of what it feels like to watch the person you are so irrevocably in love with be hurt like that.” Draco balanced his forehead to Harry’s. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Draco shook his head, his nose knocking into Harry’s. 

“I spoke to McGonagall,” Harry said, tears and snot and hope skittering down his face. “The Defense job is open.”

Draco leaned back abruptly and held onto Harry’s shoulders. “What are you saying?”

Harry smiled wetly. “I’m going to be a professor.”

Draco didn’t care how badly his skin was still residually burning, or how much it would hurt to crash into someone so forcibly that gravity lost its hold and they went tumbling back. Harry would take him to St. Mungo’s. 

Harry was holding him tight, and kissing him all over his face, and now Draco was crying. He was so relieved. Relief. What a strange word. Brought about by a renewed promise to stay by Draco’s side. Draco never would’ve asked Harry to quit his job as an Auror. It wasn’t his place. If Harry loved it, then Harry should have it. But Draco couldn’t lie to himself. This was better. This meant keeping Harry close and loving him for as long time stretched on, and it was better. 

<3

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[iraniq]

Fuzzy

part I 

I slowly woke up with a horrible headache, and a fuzzy mind. I gently moved, my leg was stiff. I wanted to roll to my back, but I felt something... Someone. Their hand was on me and I heard a growl when I moved. 

"Perfect, another idiot who thinks he owns me, because we fucked".

  - I have to pee, move! - I hissed, not waiting for an answer and rushed looking for the bathroom....

The room was huge, like terribly huge. I almost lost it, till I saw a marble floor behind one of the wood decorated walls. I did my job, and went back to bed. Since Mr. Ladie's boy was rich I was gonna let him be and spoil myself. 

"I deserve some quality me time after this hectic week!"

I jumped back in and he hugged me again. Lying his head on my shoulder.

  - I am not a pillow!

  - Why not, you are plump. - his sleepy voice was deep and actually sounded good.

"Did he just?"

  - I am sorry... - I was fed up and started to get up.

  - Shush... I didn't meant it that way... Stay... - he growl the last one.

I layed back and he hugged me again. Fixing half his body on me.

  - Are you hungry? - he mumbled half asleep.

  - Always! 

He shifted and I felt his hand moving the hair off my face. I felt his lips so close to my cheek... Then his phone rang. 

He put his hand on the bed, so he could get up more and reached for his phone. He had this odd red shaped tattoo on his hand. He sat on me grabbing his phone. I lied on my back, trying to wake up. To get rid of the dizziness. He sat comfortably on me, fixing his posituon while using my gello belly as a holder. In just a seconds I heard him yelling on the phone on some other language. His voice sounded familiar, till I finally looked up to him...

... It was the green haired pale and heavy tattooed Clown Prince of Crime. He proceed to talk, I didn't understand, but by the way he talked it looked like he was explaining something. His voice was low and stern. 

Don't know why but he sounded so hot. Half naked, sitting on top of me... I had sex with him least night, it finally hit me... 

He looked at me, while nodding his head, winked at me. I awkwardly smiled. He then hang up and lied on top of me. 

  - Want breakfast, fluffy?

I blinked several times staring at the celing, trying not to cry. I was both impassioned and intimidated.

"What have I involved myself into?"

*

I got out of my trans by his voice, he was asking if I was hungry.

  - You hungry, little bear?

  - Am... Maybe, why not... - I had no idea what to say. If I say 'no' he might get offended, if I say 'yes' he might have fun of me, for having too much breakfasts in my life. - Yes, maybe something light.

  - Like you?

  - Ha... - my heart skipped several beats.

  - You were my light breakfast this morning... - he growled - I am starving! - he got up of me, slapping my thigh and walked to the door. - Jump jump, cupcake, food won't drag itself! 

I covered myself with the first piece of clothing I saw and run after him. 'Being sort sucks' - I thought after running and triping in the long sheet.

He entered a huge kitchen and I slowly followed. He opened the fridge and got some stuff out. 

  - Toasts with avocado?

  - Can I have them with butter... Please?

  - Help yourself ... - he pointed at the open fridge. 

This thing was stashed for the end of the world. I picked the butter and some jam. As the toasts were ready he put 2 for me too, and prepared his. Poured himself some juice. I prepared my breakfast too and got a cup of juice as well. He led me to a huge couch on the balcony. It was around noon. There were huge curly clouds moving around the sky. My stomach was growling. This wasn't enough, I didn't had dinner, only light lunch... Then I went to the club with... 

  - Shit... My friend! Do you... - I turned towards him, he was just biting his toast, his hair was in the mashed avocado as well. - Did you... by any chance saw my friend... Last night, at the bar? 

  - Hmmh. - he mumbler while chewing and shaked his head for a 'no'. 

  - Damn... She must be worried.

  - Feel free to do what you want, after breakfast! - he said the last one with a low voice. Obviously he wasn't pleased I interrupted the feeding with myself. 

  - Excuses me! - I mumbled and finished my juice. My stomach growled again.

  - You can have more, if you want. - he said looking at the clouds, then scribed the avocado off his hair.

  - No thanks, my stomach is just... Slow with processing the food, it still thinks I am hungry... - I nervously joked. 

  - Aha... - he said still not looking at me. 

  - You have a nice place... - I tried to start a conversation.

  - I hate pointless conversations! - he cut me off. - If you want to say something, say it, otherwise pack your shit and leave! - he almost yelled, looking furiously at me. 

  - I would like to look at the clouds a little longer ... If it's possible. - I tried to calm my voice from shaking while I said this.

  - Of couse you can, they are horgeous this morning. - he got up and took the plates inside. 

I was left outside, I have no idea how long I stayed, I even cried a little bit. I was so scared and confused... 

'OMG... How did I end up here... Did he drugged me... Did he... Raped me... Will I be able to go home, will he kill me... Worse, will he claim me... '

I heard a noise from the inside, a man approached me. I was fast to wipe my tears.

  - Miss, Mr. J would like to see you now, please come with me.

  - Of course. - I left the blanket I had used to cover myself and followed the man. 

He brought me back to the big bedroom and left me inside, closing the door after me. 

  - Finally, you are here! - he was fully clothed, approaching me with open arms... - What is it fluff... What? Are you crying... Ha? - there was a madness in his eyes. - Lie to me and I will kill you! - he said putting his hand on my throat, squeezing me lightly, to show he wasn't joking.

  - I...  - he loosened his grip - I was kinda scared. - I said as fast as I could.

  - Why? - he waved both his hands. - I had breakfast with you... Were I rude?

I nod my head 'no'.

  - Use your words! - he roared at me.

  - No... You weren't rude.

  - Did I offend you?

  - No you didn't... You were actually quite nice with me.

  - So? - he frowned his non existing eyebrows.

  - Well... I guess I was mislead by the popular opinion.

  - Well... They are right! - he laughed hysterically. - Have your shit and leave! - he turned his back on me.

I quickly got dressed and grabbed my stuff. 

  - No! - he got my feather necklace, I will keep this, I like it. 

I handed it to him. He nod a gratitude and I smiled. 

  - Should I be worried?

  - Should you? - he mocked me, tilting his head. The lack of amusement in my looks turned him to being serious again. - I guess not. 

It was odd, but there was something in him, something like my favorite character, something nice in the monster.

  - I am free for breakfasts... - I said before having the chance to think it through.

'Oh my God!'

He looked back at me, and smiled lightly. Like a trapper who just spot his pray.

  - I will have you in mind!

The same man who brought me into the bedroom escorted me to a black SUV and drove me back into the city, to a deserted part. 3 blocks away I got the public transport and arrived home. It was bizarre experience, that I will probably won't forget, but that fact that I said I am free for breakfasts, was definitely gonna haunt me... This way he will definitely come for me... 

'We all know how Harley end up... This was beyond ridiculous... Why I said this... Why I am so stupid... Why I need to save them all... He is a monster... Silly me!' 

I hit my head with my palm. And sat down on the small bed. I cried for a while longer and then took a shower. After this all I decided to call my friend. The bitch didn't even realized I was gone, she thought I got bored and went home! What a nice fiends I have indeed.

Two weeks later I went to the bank to beg for another loan. While waiting I thought of him. Oddly but I haven't had such a chill breakfast with anyone, all the men in my life were mostly unsatisfied with my looks, it was just one night stand and that's all. He didn't even remarked it. And the guy is build like a freaking God!

My loan was denied, and silly me, in a moment of need, decided to go to him... Breakfast buddy. I dressed to impress, with maroon dress, my leaf earrings that match the nickles I left with him. I was allowed in his club, which was actually a miracle, and I went mingling. Some men approached me, but when I politely said I wasn't interested they left.

' Is this the fucking Haven or something? Why aren't we aware of this? ' 

I stopped at the bar. 

  - Hey... Why are every one so polite? - I asked the bartender.

  - Mr. J doesn't like when men are disrespectful towards women.

  - Oh... Can I have a glass of red wine, Merlot please. 

The pretty blond gave me the glass, I paied a small fortune and proceed walking around. I finally saw him lying upside down on a golden couch. With lots of fluffy scarfs, these that strippers have. His shirt almost fully unbuttoned and his mind was visibly somewhere else. 

I walked around, didn't wanted to push it. I was already nervious enough. I made a small walk around the club. I approached his, obviously vip area, and since no one stopped me I went to him.

  - Hey... - nothing - Hello! - Nada, again. I sat down and turned my head a little upside down. - Hello in there. - he finally blinked.

  - Oh... Hi! - his reply was so casual, like we were friends for years and we were just talking before he went where he was.

  - Was it cool? - he frowned his 'cureently on permanent vacation' eyebrows. - Where you were. Was it cool? - I got up and stand in front of him.

He ruffled his hair and sat down. 

  - Are you hungry again? - he looked at me, he was reading me like a book. 

  - Maybe... - I smiled. 

  - Give me 5 min. - he got up and headed to another private boot with closed curtains. 

3 gunshots echoed, no one bothered, not even the music stopped. He came out. Handing the gun to the same man from previously, and getting a towel of him. He wiped his hands, and got a jacket. 

  - Shall we! - he pointed me the direction we were supposed to walk. 

  - Was this blood on your hands?

  - Do you really want to know? - he hissed in my ear.

  - I have... I get sick of the sight of blood.

  - Then don't... - he was obviously pisses but calmed himself breathing in and out several times. - Yes it was. Any more questions?

  - I don't wanna see this! - I walked faster ahead of him.

  - This wasn't a question! - he yelled after me laughing.

  - I regret my first question! 

  - Why are you dressed like a prostitute?

  - I am not... - I protested.

  - Really? - he raised his non existing eyebrow again.

  - OK, I might be just a little bit.. - he laughed - How you do this... Like moving only one eyebrow?

  - If you are a good girl, Daddy will show you!

  - Awwww... - I squealed, we both laughed. 

We exit the club by a secret exit or something like it. We sat in a black SUV and the driver started the car.

  - So ... - he leaned closer - You didn't answered my question.

  - Which one? - I blushed. I expected inappropriate question or sex related suggestion.

  - Why are you dressed like this? You are not a girl like this...

  - I needed to get in, and why do you think I am not... A girl like this?

  - You blush! Sluts, hookers and other nasty women don't blush.

  - OK, I agree here. - I laughed.

We spend the ride in silence. He drove me to the same place out of town. He exit the car and held his hand for me to exit as well. 

  - I have some things to do... You remember where the kitchen is. Eat as you please and as much as you want. - he waved at me.

  - What will you do... - while I was asking I saw the man nod a 'no' but I couldn't shut up in time. 

The Joker turned back at me. In 2 steps he was in front of me, pushed me against the car and rawred.

  - Don't ask questions that doesn't want to know the answer of... Otherwise I will show it to you... Bizarre and vivid... And bloody!

  - OK... OK! I am sorry. 

  - Get lost! - he yelled and pushes me towards the man. - Frost... - he pinched the bridge of his nose - Make sure she will eat and then led her to her bedroom. And please, explain to her, if I see her out of the room, I will rape her and break her arms, then her legs... And then, I will allow her to die. Got it! - he explained this so casually. My mind didn't had the opportunity to process all of this.

  - Yes, boss!

The man led me to the kitchen. Waited till I eat my sandwich. Although my hands were shaking. The thought of rape freaked me out. I wasn't that scared of broken bones. This was a fear my mother planted in me as a child. Almost nothing in the world freaked me this much. The man then led me to a room, it wasn't the one I was in the precious time. He unlocked the door and after pushed me in handed me the key.

  - Don't worry, little girl, you will be safe as long as you stay in. Regardless of what you hear outside stay in. If he needs you he will ask for your presence. - he then proceed closing the door. - No need to lock the door. No one else will come to you... Our punishment for any thoughts of this sort will be way worse.

  - Is this... Even possible?

  - Everything is possible with the Joker. - he closed the door. 

I was alone in the dark cold room.

I couldn't fall asleep, tossing and turning, and suddenly it was morning already. I got up, get a shower and get dressed. In the wardrobe there were several clothes, mostly casual. I tried to check my phone, but the sugnal was blocked. Couldn't even open my damn farm game.

4 hours later someone knocked on the door and informed me I am being expected for breakfast. It was the same man as I opened the door. He led me to the kitchen and left me there. A very displeased Joker was sitting on the huge couch. The fridge door was open, there was food scattered everywhere. Some bullet wholes in the wall and the balcony glass door was broken. 

  - Come... - he said in a low tone. 

I obeyed and sat next to him. He slid a plate my direction. It was guacamole and some kids snack. I got a fish shaped one and dropped it in the sauce. It looked fun, so I laughed.

  - I think I drowned the fish! - I started laughing. No idea what was I supposed to do in general. But at the time this sounded as a good idea. He started laughing too and throw an elephant in.

  - Chill he will save it. - we both laughed. 

For the next several minutes we laughed without a particular reason, my eyes even got teary. 

I got the elephant and ate it, then the fish.

  - It is nice. I haven't tried it before and kinda expected it to taste gross.

  -  Well... Surprise! - he said, rubbing his hands in his pants.

One strand of hair was falling on his face. And I reached to fix it. He was quick to grab my hand.

  - Don't... You need a permission to do so. - he smiled wildly and let my hand go.

  - OK... Do you want to try... To drown a fish or something. 

He got a cat or a tiger and threw it in. 

  - If it's a tiger it will swim... well I believe this is more like a swamp. - he poked the cat in - That's it, we lost it...

  - Time of death?

  - Time of death... - he pretended to look at his non existing watch - Time of death, who cares! - he laughed again, this creepy laugh of his. He threw some more cats inside then he threw one in the air and catched it. - Wanna try? 

  - Oh no... I will probably choke on it and die, I am very clumsy.

  - Are you shy?

  - No... I just know my weak spots.

  - Come on I will give you an easy one. 

He threw one at me, I tried but it hit my nose and fell somewhere under the furniture. He smiled and threw another one, this time he hit my eye, I whined and the fish swam under the couch pillow. He threw another one I caught it but when I tilted my head down it fell off my mouth.

  - Mmmhmm - he growled twitching his face. - You are a hopeless case. He got up and threw the package in the table.

  - Told you.

  - Here! - he got a fish out and squeezed my cheeks, shoving it in. - Now close your damn mouth and chew! - he ordered and I obayed.

  - Yay! - I raised my hands in the air. 

  - Yeah, finally... - he said obviously annoyed. - What are you doing?

  - Looking for the fallen ones. - I said while moving the pillows.

  - Leave them, there is a person who cleans here!

  - Well I... 

  - You what? - he yelled.

  - I prefer to clean after the mess I made myself. - I said already regretting the words that came out my mouth.

He looked at me and nod his head.

  - You have 10min. 

For the short time I got, I managed to find all of the escapies. Even ate the stuck in guacamole ones. I got it in the fridge and finally closed the door. Although half of the stuff were melted, maybe some were went bad already, since I had no idea how long the door stayed open. We spend like solid hour and something "breakfasting". As I was done I followed him in his room, he took a shower and we went to bed. He positioned me on my stomach and lyed his head on my shoulder. Till I decide to weather joke about being a pillow or not he was already sleeping.

__________________________________

@diyunho @rhina988 @nikkitasevoli @sougie @lovermrjokerr @darthjokerisyourfather @marsmad @itsmeauntie @echelongaga @brightlightsfanfiction @mj-isback @gemma60 @elliegrace139 @lylabell2013 @pandaliciouz 

dunno who’s active, because i wasn’t much, if you want o be tagged or untagged, let me know 

[vivxwrites]

Mystery Girl

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1881

Summary: You and Carol have a secret relationship and the team wants to know who you’re dating.

Warnings: Some kissing, I think that’s it. Mistakes??

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: This was requested by @im-so-done-42 and I hope you love it as much as I do. I had loads of fun writing it, sorry for the wait by the way :))

You hummed to yourself as you flipped the pancake in the skillet. Your thoughts trailed back to last night and a happy grin etched itself onto your face. As soon as everyone had gone to bed your girlfriend Carol snuck into your bedroom and the two of you spent the night cuddled up under your fluffy comforter. The two of you have been dating for three months now but you both agreed on keeping the relationship a secret, at least until you were sure that it would be a long-term thing.

“(Y/N)? Hello, Earth to (Y/N)!” You snapped out of your haze and found Clint waving a hand in front of your face.

“Shit.” You cursed when you saw that you had completely zoned out and burnt your pancakes. Not to mention that practically the whole team had made their way down to the kitchen and were staring at you. “Oh hey guys,” you greeted sheepishly.

“You’re being extra spacey today.” Tony narrowed his eyes at you and you did your best not to squirm under his gaze.

“No I’m not, I’m always this spacey.” You prayed that Tony hadn’t noticed your voice’s higher pitch and did your best to remain stoic under his watchful eye.

“Hey, keep those pancakes comin’, (Y/LN). You’ve still got the rest of us to feed,” Sam hollered from the table. While you would normally be annoyed at his words, this time you cheered internally for the change in subject and turned to continue making pancakes.

“I’m on to you (Y/N), and don’t you forget it.” Tony’s words made your whole body tense up. You snuck a glance at Carol and you saw her swallow nervously once she met your eyes. The silent conversation between the two of you would have gone completely unnoticed if it weren’t for one highly trained assassin.

Breakfast went down as it normally did after the interrogation, Sam and Bucky bickering and fighting over food while Clint scarfed down both of their portions. The look of horror in both of their eyes never got old.

Round two of Tony’s scrutiny happened when you were minding your own business and reading a book. Ok, maybe you weren’t reading a book, but there was a book in front of you. Instead your mind had drifted off to Carol and how beautiful she was. How her smile lit up the whole room and how her eyes always showed so much emotion. You were in the middle of replaying the sound of Carol’s laugh throughout your head when all of a sudden Tony crawled out from under the couch with a cry of “aha!”

You screamed and nearly tumbled off of the couch at his appearance. You clutched your chest in fear and scolded him, “What the hell is wrong with you!”

He hopped to his feet and raced around the common room. He pointed to you and stated, “You, my dear, have a crush.”

“What? Pfft I don’t have a crush.” You did your best to play it off but he saw right through you.

He gave you an incredulous look and continued his skipping around the various couches. This time he sang out the words, “(Y/N) has a crush! (Y/N) has a crush!”

You felt yourself panicking when Tony kept chanting those words over and over again, not wanting any other nosy avengers to start pestering you alongside him. “Shh, shut up Tony!”

“Nuh uh! Not unless you tell me who.” He practically giggled in glee as he kept frolicking all about. You swear that you even saw him clap his hands together like a seal.

You heard the footsteps of a few other avengers drawing nearer. Not wanting to see who they were, you hid your face in a pillow and groaned at Tony’s antics.

“Hey guys! Did you know that (Y/N) has a crush,” he practically screamed those words to the group and you felt yourself blush furiously. ‘At least he doesn’t know the truth,’ you thought.

“Alright Tony, leave the poor girl alone.” You sighed in relief at Natasha’s words, she was always a mediator.

Tony grumbled out a “party pooper” and begrudgingly shuffled away. You pulled your face out of the pillow and met Natasha’s gaze. She gave you a small smile and a pat on your back before she too left the room.

You were peacefully watching a movie with the majority of the team when Tony struck again. He smiled innocently and took a seat on the couch next to you, but you knew his intentions were more than likely nefarious. He sat and watched the movie for a good twenty minutes before he made his move. “(Y/N) has a crush.” He covered his words up with a cough and an apologetic smile. You had heard him loud and clear and sent him a wicked glare. He fought a smirk and remained silent for another ten minutes before he repeated his words. A few others glanced at him this time, to which he responded with, “Sorry team, I’ve got a little bug in my throat.” He muttered under his breath, “A love bug.”

The night continued with Tony’s nonsense and you felt your resolve crumbling all throughout the movie. It only took two more times for you to finally snap. “God dammit Stark! I don’t have a crush, ok? I’m dating someone. Are you happy now?”

Everyone fell silent at your exclamation. You felt several pairs of eyes on you and tears of embarrassment welled up in your eyes. You threw yourself off of the couch and fled to your bedroom.

Back in the common room everyone sat in tense, uncomfortable silence. Carol wanted to race after you but she feared that it would look too suspicious. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tried to keep her face from showing her concern. Tony sighed and made to move off his couch, “I didn’t mean to hurt the poor kid. Let me go after her.”

“Oh no you don’t Stark, you’ve done enough.” Natasha sent Tony a glare that made him stay put.

Carol felt her heart break a little when she realized that no one else seemed interested in making sure you were ok. She faked a yawn and stretched her arms above her head. “Well I’m headed to bed. Goodnight.” Various chimes of “goodnight” followed Carol’s statement and she walked off towards her room. When she made it far enough she changed course and made a beeline for your room instead.

She knocked softly on the door to alert you to her presence and slowly pushed it ajar. You were sitting on your bed with tear-stained cheeks when Carol rushed forward to sweep you into her arms. She whispered words of comfort and you clung to her body, grateful for its warmth.

“I’m sorry that Tony was bugging you all day, baby. I would’ve blasted him if I could.”

You let out a watery chuckle at her words. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.” She smiled softly at your statement.

Carol reached over to you and tucked your hair behind your ear. She cupped your cheek with one hand and your body leaned into her on its own accord. “That’s because I hate seeing your smiley face upset.” She placed a light kiss on your temple and you tucked your head under her chin. You snuggled further into her body and the two of you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke you were met with the sight of Carol’s infectious grin. You grumbled out, “How are you so happy in the morning?”

“It’s because I woke up next to you.” She finished her statement with a boop to your nose and you blushed heavily.

You gave her a happy grin, “ Cheesehead.” You saw the mischievous glint that showed up in her eyes but you were too late.

Before you could process what was happening Carol had straddled your hips and was gazing down at you. “You wanna take that back, babe?”

You shook your head and all of a sudden she started tickling you all over. You squealed in surprise and tried to wriggle away but she had you trapped under her weight. “Wait-Carol I take it back. I take it back!” You could barely talk due to the giggles that erupted from your throat.

Carol finally took mercy on you and flopped to the other side of the bed. She grinned at you as you attempted to catch your breath and once you did you grinned back. “I think I love you.” You panicked, that was definitely not supposed to come out.

Carol blinked at you in response, she was stunned speechless. You immediately thought the worst and babbled out an apology, “Oh god, I said that too soon didn’t I? It’s fine, just pretend you didn’t hear me because I certai-“ Carol cut you off with a single finger to your lips and your eyes widened in response.

“(Y/N). I think I love you too.” She spoke quickly and quietly and if you hadn’t been listening intently you would have missed it altogether.

“That’s great! You know, because I said I think I love you and you just said you think you love me, it all works out.” You blushed when you caught yourself rambling again. “So, should we tell the others? They already know I’m dating someone.”

“Oh don’t worry about the others, babe.” The glint in her eyes had returned, “You just leave them to me.”

You were sitting at the kitchen island picking at your cereal when you heard someone sit next to you. “So who’s the mystery guy?”

Clint, of course it was Clint. You put on a look of confusion, “Excuse me?”

“You know, the guy you’re dating? You did admit to it last night.”

“Yeah (Y/N), who is this mystery guy? Do we know him?” Great, now Sam was pestering you too.

You simply shrugged at their questions and went back to eating your cereal. You ignored the curious expressions that were on you and instead stared at your blurry reflection in the spoon.

When Tony showed up in the kitchen you avoided his eyes completely. You could feel him staring at you and you kept going about your business, just as you had done before.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned in the direction of it. When you saw that it was Carol you smiled, “Oh hey Carol, what’s u-“ Before you could finish talking she smashed her lips into yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her heated kiss and you melted right into it.

Carol pulled away with a loud pop and she smirked at the other occupants in the room. You could only let out a quiet, “Oh wow,” before the room boomed with multiple voices at the same time.

“What?!” That one was Sam.

“Girl, mystery girl.” There was Clint’s voice.

“I didn’t see that coming.” Pietro and Wanda at the same time, that was pretty cool to hear.

Tony didn’t even say anything, just gaped in shock.

Last but not least, Natasha’s voice echoed around the room, “I knew it.”

A/N: My laptop still hates me so please forgive anything that looks weird or any mistakes, I will fix them eventually. I hope you liked the fic!! Let me know if you did and also feel free to check out my other stuff. Oh and send in some requests, I’ll write almost anything. Thanks, Viv :)

[kyvir]

Sincerely Yours

Sarada loves her job, and lost an opportunity because the President gave it to his son, Boruto. Why did Boruto take it? Because he heard there was a feisty manager on the team. Watch them fight, argue, tease, flirt, “accidentally” fall in love, and deny it to the bitter end.

Rating: M Pairing: BoruSara

Collaboration with @kairi-chan!

Chapter Four

previous | 

Two weeks after starting his new job as Marketing Director, Boruto was up to his neck in paperwork. His father was a great man, he was kind and thoughtful when it came to his family, his friends and his employees too. Everybody loved him because he was so easy to love. 

But he was an idiot. 

His desperation to have the position filled made a lot more sense once Boruto had enough time to get in and look into everything. It took time and patience, two things Boruto didn’t have much of with everything else to worry about. 

Regardless of how annoyed he was, Boruto kept his complaints to himself and did the work, catching up on all the paperwork. Contracts needed renewing and there were several meetings with clients both old and new to handle. Planning around Naruto’s schedule and everyone else’s was even more of a hassle, but Boruto accepted it. 

Everything was fine and well until Naruto denied his son’s most recent proposal. That was when Boruto had it and his complaints were about to fly freely. 

While dealing with everything else, Boruto was determined to bring his own suggestions for new products. After all, he had a knack for these things and his father knew that. Never in a million years did Boruto think he’d be shot down and the email he received from Naruto was absolutely horrendous.

Boruto,

Yuck. I will never approve of something so atrocious. Burger flavored ramen??? Not a chance. 

Get over it,

Dad

“This bastard!” Boruto groaned, half wanting to punch his computer monitor or at least sling it across the room. 

Not bothering with a reply, Boruto instead got to his feet and left his office. He’d confront his father directly over this. For the entire week, Boruto had been thinking about this project and working on it along with everything else. He had Inojin make a mock-design, Chocho make a social media plan and Sarada make a promotional campaign plan. He even managed to get Kagura to commit a few accounts without having the full details on the product. Shikadai even made a projection for him, moved around their stocks so there was room for this new flavor to get on the market. 

It was a lot of shit. 

And Boruto wanted burger flavored ramen. 

When he made it to his father’s office, he didn’t knock. He slammed the door open and glared at the man who was on the phone, kicked back in his seat with his feet on his desk. Naruto scrambled around to straighten himself at the intrusion, nearly dropping his phone in the process. 

“Uh, Sorry Gaara, we will talk numbers later. Something came up. Call you later?” Naruto rambled once he pulled his phone back to his ear. 

“Alright, dear,” Hinata replied and Naruto’s face paled. 

He apparently hadn’t realized he’d accidentally put the phone on speaker when he was fumbling with it. Boruto just rolled his eyes as Naruto hung up the phone and set it on his desk. 

“What the hell, Dad? We’re having burger flavored ramen added or else.” Boruto would win this battle. 

Naruto’s brows furrowed. “Watch your tone, Boruto. You may be my son, but you still report to me here.” 

“Right because your email really set a professional standard.” Boruto scoffed. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked on this project and need I remind you who came to whom begging for help.”

Naruto stood from his table, rising a few inches over his son. “I asked HR to hold the position for you. Just because you have it now, doesn’t mean you will get what you want.” Daddy Naruto was gone, and in came the president of Ichiraku Ramen Corp. “We just released a new line. That’s five products. You do realize that releasing another one within the year will cannibalize them, right?” 

“So you would be willing to lose this potential? I just laid down a gold mine in front of you… and this isn’t the first time so you already know. There’s a reason you wanted me here.” 

Naruto’s gaze softened and he sighed. His son always came up with creative and innovative ideas. Although a burger flavored ramen does sound atrocious, it could have some novelty potential, as long as it was priced and marketed right. He took a few moments, doing the math and thinking of a way to save the new line but get Boruto out of his office with no more whining. 

“Six months. Rotational, on K-mart shelves only.” Naruto raised a finger when Boruto looked ready to retort. “And price it at novelty. I need to gain back my capital for creating a new flavor on short notice.” 

“That’s ridiculous. But I’ll accept, only because I have other projects that will be on your desk shortly. If anybody needs to get over it, it’s you.” He couldn’t wait to see Naruto’s reaction to his other ideas. 

He would hate them all. 

Barely a moment after he returned to his own office, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket with a curse, but his face and mood softened once he saw it was his sister. He hadn’t been keeping in touch like he should. He hadn’t even went to visit in a week. 

“Hima?” He asked after clearing his throat and making sure his tone held none of his earlier annoyance. 

“I cooked you dinner last night.”

Shit. 

“I made your favorite strawberry cake too.”

Double shit. 

“I called you… and when you never answered or showed up, I went by your place with your dinner and the whole cake. But you didn’t answer the door.”

It was all over for him. 

“Now, just wait a minute, Hima. Work has been a little hectic and what time did you come by?” He had to have already been asleep, otherwise he would have heard her knocking. 

“You haven’t called me in days…”

This wasn’t good at all. 

“I’m sorry. Don’t be upset, please.” Boruto frowned just as someone knocked on his office door and he sighed. “Come in,” he knew it wasn’t Sarada whenever she didn’t just peek in immediately. As the door opened, Himawari groaned in frustration, she was mad at him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? Let me take you to dinner, I’ll buy you something sweet and we can do anything you want after.”

“Flowers?”

“Flowers. Got it.” Boruto said as he glanced over at Chocho who was stepping in quietly. 

Himawari giggled. “Okay, bro. Pick me up at six. You better not be late. I love you!”

It wouldn’t be easy getting out of work in time to make it happen, but he would no matter what. “I love you too.” He said and then ended the call to give his attention to Chocho. “What’s up?”

She stood there, mouth hanging open and trying to form a cohesive sentence. But didn’t get to spit it out without making some weird noises first. “I just… umm… the meeting got moved to three? And it’ll be in the Noodle Room. Sarada told me to tell you.” 

“Right, thank you.” Boruto smiled at her. “Tell her I’ll be there and please have her reschedule my five o’clock to tomorrow sometime.”

Chocho blinked. “Your five o’clock? Isn’t that with the agency?” 

“It is. She’ll make it happen. I have to get out of here early today.” There was no getting around it and he couldn’t get out of the meeting so rescheduling was the only way.

“Okay…” was all she could say before going out of his office and practically running down the hall, back to the marketing department’s area. This was big news. Wait ‘til the gang hears their boss was cancelling an outside meeting for a date. 

Once Boruto entered the meeting room, his team was already sitting down, whispering to each other about something he couldn’t hear. Sarada was sitting at his left, not saying a word or looking at his direction. She was typing furiously, writing an email and setting a new meeting invitation. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Shikadai came in, holding on to his laptop. “Just had to check something before heading here.” He took a seat next to Boruto and hooked up his screen to the projector, showing an excel file with numbers and rows. The columns were full of the products, numbers showing off their demand per month. 

“For the cells in yellow, these are the new products. The blue ones are for the burger ramen.” He looked around before proceeding. “I moved the yellow cells down to the end of the year, spreading some of the demand a little thinner for K-Mart to make some room. This is my first suggestion. But what I really recommend is we limit to three or four products for K-Mart and then slide in the burger to take two shelf spaces instead.” 

Chocho and Inojin exchanged looks before looking at Sarada. She did not look happy. 

“I know, I know,” Shikadai held his hands up. “It’ll hurt the line, but look, “he opened the other tab and showed more demand for other channels. “I got Kagura to get the supermarkets to take more. That way, we don’t hurt the target, and get to let the Burger shine on the convenience store shelf a little more.” 

Boruto grinned. It was a sound argument. Didn’t expect anything less from Shikadai. “I like it.” But before sealing the deal, he looked at Sarada. “Thoughts?” 

The look she gave him was cold. Oh, she was angry. About what, he didn’t really know. “We would have to redo the whole campaign for K-Mart,” Sarada started. “The commitment I have for the Point of Sales would have to be terminated and reworked. Did Kagura say he could have the account accept it?” 

Boruto pouted. What did the sales guy have to do with it? 

Shikadai rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, he’s working on it. Hard to deny when Naruto himself asked the account…” 

Sarada’s lips turned into a fine line and she looked at Chocho and Inojin. Both of them looking fearful of their incoming workload. “Well, if Mr. Uzumaki insists, we can only make sure it’s launched well.” 

Things were going as smoothly as they could, but Sarada was definitely upset with him about something. Boruto didn’t have time to question her about it, having less than an hour to complete his work for the day after the meeting ended. He was rushing and stressed, but as long as it was for Himawari’s sake, it was fine. 

It was still after five before he hurried out of his office, already calling her on his way towards the elevator. She sent him to voicemail, probably thinking he was going to cancel on her which made him feel even worse. 

“Hima don’t be like this. I’m leaving work now, I’ll be to you before six. Be ready for me okay?” He ended the call and finally reached the elevator, quickly pressing the button to call it. He had no idea where he would get flowers from on the way, so he was now trying to search nearby places on his phone. 

He heard heels clicking on the floor and immediately looked up, it was Sarada, on the way to the ladies’ room. Perfect. 

“Hey, Sarada!” Boruto beamed as he jogged over to her. “Do you know of any good flower shops near here?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, face impassive but still obviously not happy about needing to interact with him. “Flowers? It depends. What’s the occasion?” 

“Huh what?” 

Sarada rolled her eyes and drawled, “Celebratory? Did someone pass? Or, did you screw up and need to apologize?” She waved her hands around. “Like that.” 

Still a little stressed and worried, Boruto didn’t even think about her sassing him. “The latter.” 

Again with her lips being in a thin, fine line. “Inojin’s mother has a flower shop down at Seventh. For whatever the occasion.” 

“Awesome! That’s on my way. Thanks for the help, Sarada. I’m sure I’ll find something to make her happy there.” He grinned and winked at her before hurrying back to the elevator. He’d missed it, but it was still waiting thankfully and he was able to get on his way. 

If he was late, he’d never hear the end of it. 

The flower shop was only ten minutes from him. He walked inside with flowers on his brain. So many options, but what would she prefer? Definitely yellow. Sunflowers maybe? His head hurt from overthinking as he opened the door. A bell chimed to announce his entry and he walked in, inhaling the calming aroma of many different flowers. 

Boruto walked through, looking at some arrangements that were already made for the day and then at all the different selections they had. These things were difficult for men, especially doting brothers. 

A lady with long blond hair and a pretty smile came out from the back and grinned at him. “Hello, dear. What can I get for you?” 

“Wow, you must be Inojin’s mother. I see who he gets his looks from.” Boruto grinned back. “I’m looking for something sweet and yellow. Do you have sunflowers by chance?”

The lady’s hand went up to her cheek and giggled at his compliment. “Oh thank you. I’m Ino, by the way. I’m sorry, but we just ran out. I have some daisies and carnations. What would you prefer?” 

Thinking quick, he replied, “Daisies.” 

“Okay,” she walked around the counter and fetched some from a base nearby. “Do you have a budget I need to keep in mind?” 

Judging by how upset Himawari sounded earlier? “No, go crazy.” 

Ino’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wow, not many young men your age say that around here. Must be a really special one, huh?” Ino picked up more flowers along the way and laid them all on the counter. 

“Oh yeah. She is. She gets what she wants, always.” Boruto shrugged. He had no plans to change that either. He loved spoiling his sister. 

The lady nodded and continued arranging the flowers for him, it wasn’t even done yet but it was starting to look like a huge one. “Known her long?” 

“Her whole life.” Boruto nodded and chuckled softly. 

Ino hummed and smiled. “She must adore you, then. Quite young, I assume?” She teased. “You look to be just as old as my son.” 

“Yeah, she’s a few years younger than me.” Boruto smiled as he stared at the forming arrangement. He was damn glad she hadn’t been his older sister. She wouldn’t have been as cute then. 

Ino chuckled and placed the ribbon on the wrapping. “Do you need a card, dear?” 

“Yes, please.” He said and when she pulled one out, Boruto pulled his sunflower pen out of his chest pocket and wrote a simple, I love you, before putting the pen back and handing over the card for her to finish up. “It looks great, she’s going to be so happy.”

“Any girl would be,” Ino smiled sweetly and showed him his bill. Boruto thought he was seeing double but even if he blinked twice, it was still the same amount. It didn’t matter, though. He wanted the best flowers for his sister, and these were definitely it. He handed his card over, and Ino processed the payment quickly. When she returned it, she wished him a good night and watched him leave the flower shop with a large bouquet of flowers. 

By some miracle, Boruto pulled into his parents driveway with ten minutes to spare. He finally breathed a sigh of relief as he exited his car, flowers in hand. Himawari has never called him back, obviously wanting him to stress over her even more. She really liked giving him a hard time, but he still adored everything about her. The door was unlocked and he let himself in, peering around all the flowers to look for her. 

“Hima! I’m home.” Boruto called as he walked through the home, going into the kitchen first. 

She came in as soon as he set the flowers on the counter. “Ooh, pretty!” She cooed and danced over, bumping him aside so she could get a closer look—and a feel, and a smell. “Wow, Boruto. They’re perfect. You came straight from work but at least you look nice. Where are we going for dinner?”

“I’ll take you anywhere you want.” 

“Okay, you’re forgiven.” She grinned and hugged him tight. 

Himawari decided on having burgers at their old favorite spot. It was a good thing that she had adapted to liking almost everything he liked and even if he was willing to spoil her with anything else, she still took him into consideration. She was an angel like that. She deserved the world and Boruto was here to give it to her. 

They took their time over dinner, catching up on his life at work, her life at school and their mom. Boruto hadn’t been to see her recently either and had only seen his dad at work for work. He knew he had to do better and he was going crazy without his mom's cooking anyway and Himawari’s too. She’d learned a lot over the years, things Boruto’s mind just couldn’t seem to comprehend. 

So, he promised to join them over the weekend for dinner to catch up after he’d taken Himawari for ice cream and then to the park just to walk by the water there. It was late, but he was able to see his mom for a moment and his dad, without them talking about anything to do with work. It was nice and even though it was a work night, he didn’t mind getting back home late. It had been a good night, Himawari was happy and he had enjoyed himself as well. 

Now if only the next day wouldn’t be so bad at work, he would be in a good place. 

[bookish-nerd9]

At Long Last: Chapter 4

Despite himself Andrew woke up excited for today’s meeting with Neil, he kept replaying the events of the previous day; Neil pouring over the books hair falling in his eyes, auburn hair that Andrew itched to touch and see how it felt between his fingers. The intent focus he had when he was explaining something complicated to Andrew that he perfectly understood but making it hard for Neil was kind of fun, and if Andrew forgot to mention the fact that he had photographic memory and he only needed things to be properly explained just once well who was to blame him!.

Then there was the unexpected trip to the Waffle House, Andrew didn’t plan on taking Neil there or anywhere else for that matter but he found that he wanted to spend more time with him and to get to know him a bit better, that’s why before he could stop himself he suggested going there and the baffled and excited look on Neil’s face was totally worth it.

Getting dressed never took Andrew long but for some reason today he sat shirtless after his shower just staring at his forearms the ugly red slashes staring right back at him as if in mockery, and right then a rogue idea crossed his mind “what would Neil think if he saw them and knew why he did that to himself?”. At that Andrew shook himself and got dressed quickly “stupid” he told himself “so fucking stupid actually, get it together Minyard”, he kept repeating this to himself as he made his way out of his room to look for some breakfast and to his unpleasant surprise everyone was up and about their business already.

Heading for the coffee pot avoiding making eye contact with anyone, waking up in a pleasant mood really made him angry and he wasn’t in the mood to make niceties with anyone today, not that he ever was.

“Did you come by the court last night? I think I saw your car, and what are you doing dropping Neil off? How do you know each other? Why didn’t you come in aren’t you going to grace us again with your presence in the court? You know we need you Andrew”

This apparently was Kevin’s way of saying good morning and Andrew was already starting to get a headache from the bombard of questions. As a way of replying Andrew stared Kevin down and dropped an unceremonious amount of sugar in his coffee.

“Look I’m just saying if you’re going to come to court anyway why not come in for a bit even just to observe the new goalkeeper.” Kevin pushed on.

“Drop it Kevin.” Andrew warned with a glare that ought to shut him up.

“Well someone is in a particular merry mood today.” Nick snickered as he made his way to the kitchen.

Without replying to any of them Andrew grabbed his stuff and headed out because god forbids him being able to enjoy a perfect cup of coffee in piece. He didn’t have to meet up with Neil until later that day after his classes so he waited for Renee outside her room as he always did to go about their day together.

“Morning Andrew” Renee greeted him with the ever sweet smile she always had that never stopped to baffle him, “Renee” he greeted her back with two fingers to his temple in salute as she fell into step beside him, this was easy and familiar to him Andrew never had a problem knowing Renee or letting her know him she was the only person other than Bee who knew everything about him and strangely that sat very well with Andrew.

“So how was your first session with Neil?” she asked with a smile that now had a hint of mischief in it.

“Don’t start with me Renee.”

“What! I’m not starting anything I really want to know, I also want to know how the infamous Andrew Minyard with his photographic memory needs any tutoring at all.” She said with a chuckle, Andrew really couldn’t argue or discourage Renee as he does any other person so he begrudgingly said

“It was fine, I understood everything thanks to that little math wiz, and I need tutoring because you know perfectly well that our beloved professor already has a foot in the grave and can’t form a whole sentence, honestly how you understand anything from him is beyond me.”

“Oh don’t be mean he’s cute” she said laughing; they kept at it until they reached the lectures hall and they went their separate way.

The rest of the day passed in a blur until Andrew was seated in the library waiting for Neil who was late again! As Andrew pulled out his phone to text him Neil made his way slowly to where Andrew sat but something was different about him the way he moved and held himself was all wrong as if he was trying so hard and failing to disappear into himself and as Neil stood right in front of Andrew he was sure something was really wrong, Neil was more disheveled than he normally is with deep dark circles under his too red eyes that didn’t seem to be able to focus in one place and Andrew knew that look all too well, the look of someone scouring the place looking for all the exists and possible escape routes.

Andrew waited as Neil heavily dropped in the chair next to him and started pulling his things out of his ridiculous duffle bag, “you look terrible” Andrew said; it took Neil a moment to focus on Andrew and process what he said “umm yeah thanks I have a mirror, let’s just get started” Neil retorted.

They spent the next hour tripping over the material that they were supposed to go through Neil couldn’t seem to focus every now and then his eyes would wonder looking for someone or something that wasn’t there and he would flinch at every little sound around them.

“Alright stop! That’s enough for today” Andrew said flipping the books closed and shoving the notes aside.

“Wait what! Why??”

“Well there is clearly something wrong and I’m not wasting my time like that so you either tell me what the fuck is wrong with you today Josten or we leave now.”

Neil said nothing he only looked down his hands and started tapping his leg furiously, “well fine we’re leaving then come on.”

Neil stuffed hiss stuff back in the duffle and headed out without waiting for Andrew who was now jogging after him to catch up to him “and where do you think you’re going?” Andrew asked Neil’s back.

“Well what do you want huh, what the fuck do you want Andrew, my performance isn’t up to your standards today so I’m leaving report me if you want or do whatever you want, I don’t care just don’t push me not today.” That took Andrew by surprise and in that minute Neil started moving, again Andrew caught up to him, “god Andrew what do you want!?”

“Nothing you’re headed to the dorms right, well so am I” and with that they walked in silence until they reached Neil’s room and before he could reach out to open the door Andrew stopped him “there’s something that might help I think come.”

Begrudgingly Neil followed him as he made his way up the stairs until they reached the roof, Andrew nudged the door open and stepped inside with Neil following hesitantly after him “Is that even legal?” Neil asked but Andrew only shrugged as he reached behind the door for something that Neil found out that it was a bottle of wine, a very expensive one.

Andrew sat at the ledge with his legs swinging on the side of the building and Neil followed suite, they sat like that for a while none of them talking and just looking at the sun dipping and bathing the campus in its warm golden afternoon light.

“Thanks for bringing me here it’s beautiful, and umm sorry about before I’m really having a bad day” Neil broke their silence.

“Don’t”

“Don’t what!!”

“Say that “sorry” don’t say it I hate that word”

“Well umm thanks still, it’s beautiful up here how did you come by it?”

“Same as the Waffle House, was looking for someplace quiet and here I am.”

They fell quite again gazing out at the campus and then Andrew said “well I guess it’s my turn now”

Neil looked at him a moment too long and Andrew was shocked by the intensity of Neil’s too blue eyes then said “what do you mean?” Andrew rolled his eyes and answered “our deal remember? Question for question!”

“Oh yeah right, well shoot”

“What’s wrong with you?” “but don’t ask me what’s wrong” they both said at the same time and Neil laughed for the first time today and his face lit up which made Andrew want to punch him in his too handsome face.

“Okay fair enough, how about ummmmm, why are you keeping that hideous thing you call a cat?”

Neil chuckled and said “Well I found kitten as I was headed to the dorms, he was this tiny little fur ball abandoned near the building soaked and shivering from the rain and the whimpering sound he was making really undid me, and he’s not hideous kitten is magnificent you know.”

Andrew blinked at him several times then said “You’re telling me you called him kitten that’s not a name you know!”

“Why does everyone keep saying that, it’s a perfectly good name that describes him well, he is a kitten after all.” Neil retorted.

“For someone who’s good with math you are unexpectedly dim witted Josten.” Neil looked at him and started saying something but right then a car’s engine backfired and Neil flinched soo hard at the sound he must’ve pulled a muscle.

Andrew looked him over body taught, hand gripping the ledge too tightly that his knuckles turned white, frantic eyes looking around for the source of the sound and breath coming in short heavy pants. He thought this isn’t working at all he meant to bring Neil here in order for him to unwind a bit, so without really thinking what he was doing he hooked his finger in Neil’s collar and tugged until Neil finally looked at him and the look Neil gave him sucked the breath from his lungs, he looked like a wounded animal looking for shelter, his eyes kept roving Andrew’s face and after a minute he started to relax as if he found what he was looking for in Andrew which was completely and utterly stupid Andrew thought.

“Come on we’re leaving” Andrew said and dragged Neil up with him finger still hooked in his collar.

“Where are we going?”

“Just come!”

They made their way outside and rode the Maserati, he drove in silence which he didn’t mind, for once no one needed to fill the silence and Andrew loved that. Soon they reached the exy court and Andrew asked “Do you have your keys?”

It took Neil a second to get what he was saying but as he looked out at the court he nodded to Andrew.

“Well come on then we’re not staying in the car obviously.”

They headed inside and as they reached the lockers Andrew told Neal to change as he headed for the court to wait for him, but why was he doing that, what is it about Neil that makes Andrew wants to know him, spend time with him, and above all comfort him when he’s in this state, to tell him that it’s okay, he’s safe and he won’t let anything happen to him, that he was willing to share his demons if only Neil wouldn’t run away if he saw Andrew’s.

As Neil came out and made his way towards Andrew who was lying on the floor with the exy racquet cradled on his chest he said “Now what? Why are we here?”

Andrew got up lazily and headed for the goal where he took his position and said “Try to score one goal and you get to ask me two questions.”

Neil raised his eyebrow in disbelief “you know that I will win right, I mean you must keep up with the matches.”

Andrew tapped the racquet twice against the floor and said “Bring it on Josten.”

They played for a full hour Neil trying and failing miserably to make one pathetic score against Andrew who defended the goal without breaking a sweat. After what must’ve been the two hundredth attempt Neil threw his racquet and lay on the floor, Andrew came over and hovered above Neil, from this angle with Neil sprawled on the floor, face flushed and hair sticking up every which way Andrew felt the need of kissing him, feeling Neil’s lips on his, would they be as full as they look? How would Neil taste like? What if he bit them what would Neil do. Instead he swallowed and said “Giving up already Josten tsk, what a shame.”

“God I hate you Minyard”

“Well good, I hate you too.”

Neil smiled a dazzling smile and Andrew allowed himself to flop down next to him. This close Andrew was itching to lean just a little bit forward to kiss Neil instead he turned his head and fixed his eyes heavenwards.

“I guess it’s my turn now” Andrew didn’t answer which Neil took as a sign for him to ask,

“Why did you stop playing exy”

“Ugh soo predictable Josten”

“Well I want to know and it’s my turn and it’s not like I asked you about your arm bands.” Sensing Andrew tensing about that last part he added quickly “and I will not I promise not unless you want to talk about them I swear.”

Andrew looked at him really hard eyes glaring which no doubt Neil interpreted as him wanting to punch Neil but not for mentioning his arm bands it was because he respected him to not ask about which was what Andrew bracing himself to be asked but nooo! He had the audacity to understand what the word privacy meant and actually respect it when no one else around Andrew seemed able to get their petty little heads around the concept.

“you’re an Idiot Josten, I stopped playing because I don’t care enough to play, I had a deal with Kevin and in order to honor it I had to play, now it’s done and I don’t play”

“Then why come here tonight when you clearly hate it?” Neil pushed

“First off I don’t hate it I just don’t care and secondly apparently being around you makes people stupid as well so here we are.” Neil smiled that sweet dizzying smile again and Andrew really wanted to wipe it off of his face, preferably with his own mouth, “good god you’re losing it Minyard” he told himself.

“Let’s go I’m not sleeping here, go change I will wait in the car”

In less than five minutes Neil was done and sitting in the car and they headed back in silence which neither of them seemed to mind. Andrew walked Neil to his room where Neil hesitated a minute before he turned on Andrew and lifted his hand as if to hold Andrew’s but thought better of it and said “thank you, really you helped, I don’t know if you meant to or not I mean I think you did but I don’t want to be presumptuous so thank you, I …I mean it really.”

“You’re an idiot Josten” that made Neil smile and not for the first time today nor the last Andrew suspected he felt like kissing that smile off of Neil’s face.

“Next time don’t be late or your kitten will pay the price” Andrew said as he walked away but not before he heard Neil’s laughter around him even after he made it to his room.

“Well, what a good fucking job Minyard, you’re screwed” he told himself as he flopped down on bed with blazing blue eyes imprinted in his mind.

Here is chapter 3

[snowfall-fanfictions]

Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 4- The Offer

Ao3 link

ff.net link

Finally, the queen and the assassin meet. Happy Thanksgiving!

Minor blood mention ahead

“Your majesty, are you and Princess Anna alright?” a guard asked Elsa as her and Anna made it to the courtyard. Elsa was panting heavily, gasping for air from the intense running she did. She never knew she could run that fast. She never had to. The young queen took a moment to regain her composure before responding.

“Yes, we’re both fine. Has the assassin been apprehended?”

“Some of the guards have reported that a commoner took the assailant’s life.”

“Any idea who it is?”

“Not yet, ma’am. We’ve found what we believe to be his horse near the market and we’re investigating it now.”

“Where is this mystery person?” “He’s been taken to the infirmary. He went unconscious as he was being brought in.”

“Unconscious?” “It appears that this man took a bullet to the chest. The medical staff claim it’s a miracle that he survived the ordeal.”

“Notify me when he wakes. Until then, double the patrols around the castle. Make sure no one enters the castle until further notice.”

“Should we close the gates ma’am?” Elsa glanced over at Anna. She was pacing back and forth with a scowl on her face, muttering that she could have taken whoever decided to shoot at them.

“No,” Elsa replied, “I made a promise to never close the gates again. Doubled patrols will suffice for now.”

“Very well, your majesty.” With that, the guard ran off to spread the orders from the queen.

Elsa walked over to Anna, cradling herself in her arms. Anna was still pacing and muttering furiously.

“Whoever shot at me and my sister is lucky that I didn’t come after them! I could’ve- Oh!” The princess stopped her rant when she saw her sister step towards her with a worried look on her face. “Elsa, is everything okay?”

“Y-yes,” Elsa said nervously, “Just a little startled is all.”

“At least we’re safe. But oooooh, whoever did that better have been ready for a fight if he thinks he can just shoot at us. If I-”

“You won’t have to worry about that, Anna. I’ve just been told someone took care of the assassin for us.”

“Then why do you look so shaken?”

“How are you not? We could’ve died today!”

“You have your powers, you could have easily-”

“But you don’t have powers, Anna! What would you have done?”

Anna hesitated for a second. “Well- I- uh, hmmm…”

Before Anna could think of what to say next, she was interrupted by the sound of someone sprinting towards them. The two sisters turned and saw Kristoff running as fast as he could, the same shock and fear that shrouded Elsa’s face covering his own. He slowed down as he reached Anna, gasping for air. “The guards just told me what happened,” Kristoff panted, “I should’ve been there with you guys. If you had gotten hurt or worse-”

“Hey, don’t think about that,” Anna reassured him as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “We’re fine, neither of us are hurt.” Kristoff placed his hands around his fiance’s waist and drew her into a loving embrace. Elsa smiled at the two, happy that her sister found someone who actually loves and cares for her. Her thoughts soon drifted to the assassination attempt. It made her realize how vulnerable she had made not only herself, but Anna as well. Leaving the castle on lockdown wasn’t going to solve anything. She knew she had to come up with a more permanent solution.

Just as she was thinking about what to do next, a guard had approached her from behind.

“Your majesty,” she began, “the mystery man has awoken. I was told to inform you when he did. Would you like me to take you to him?”

Elsa looked back at her sister and soon to be brother-in-law. She turned back to the guard and said, “Yes, let’s go.” With that, she followed the guard through the castle to the infirmary.

XXXXXX

Eryn groaned as he regained consciousness. His head felt like it was submerged in water. He opened his eyes, one by one, expecting to be greeted with the ceiling of a dungeon or a prison. Instead, he found a rather old and weathered man hovering over him. Eryn quickly shot up, only stopping when a sharp pain spiked through his chest. The old man gingerly placed a hand on Eryn’s chest, goading him to lie back down.

“Easy now, son,” the old man said in a thick german accent, “You’ve taken quite ze beating out zere. It’s a miracle you survived in ze first place.”

Eryn looked down at his chest. His torso was wrapped in bandages, with a faint red stain over the left side of his breastplate.

“W-What happened?” Eryn asked, shocked.

“Vat happened? You vere shot, zat’s vat happened!” the doctor laughed. “Und you are a very lucky man. Had zat bullet been only a few centimeters to ze right, it vould have gone through your heart.”

Eryn sat there, processing the doctor’s information. He’s had a few close calls in his life, but this was about as close as he could imagine.

“Where am I? What is this place?”

“Vhy, You’re in ze Arendelle Castle infirmary, mein friend. Ze guards tried to throw you into ze dungeons until you collapsed in ze courtyard.”

The memories of the events that transpired had come flooding back to Eryn. He remembered the young woman, the fight with the old man, and the guards grabbing him. Eryn darted his eyes around the room. It was a fairly large area, filled with similar looking cots. Some of these cots had men and women laying in them, each plagued with different injuries and ailments. Scanning the room once again, he noticed something was missing.

“Where are my things? My satchel, my horse, anything?”

“Zose are being taken care of by ze guards. Zey couldn’t find anyzing to identify you, so zey are looking through your belongings.”

Eryn was caught off guard by the doctor’s response. His mind began to race with worst case scenarios. He searched his mind for anything that could help him if the guards tried to wrestle information out of him. If they found out who he really was, he was done for!

Just then, a door swung open. Eryn tried to twist himself to see who it was, but the pain in his midsection kept the door out of his sight. All he could really do is listen to the conversation.

“Is this him?” someone asked.  It sounded like a guard to Eryn. Woman by the tone.

“Ja, is she here?” the doctor responded. “Indeed, I’ll send her in right away.”

With that, the woman guard marched back to the door, spoke a few words to an unseen accomplice, and marched back to the doctor. This time, however, he heard the clicking of heels on stone accompanying the heavy stomps of the guard’s boots. He lazily turned his head to find a rather interesting sight. The white haired woman from the square, the old man’s target, was beside his bed. He was stunned by her beauty from afar, but now that she was this close to him, he was absolutely stunned by her looks.

“Well,” Eryn smirked, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I take it you’re the one who stopped that gunman in the square earlier?” the woman asked. Her voice was as smooth as silk.

“What can I say, I would hate for looks such as yours to go to waste.”

The woman rolled her eyes as Eryn winked at her. She then turned to the doctor and the guard. “Can I discuss something in private with him? It’ll be just for a moment.”

Eryn studied the woman for a moment, combing over her figure with his eyes. He was mesmerized and puzzled by the creature before him.

Looks rich to me, Eryn thought, Maybe she’s here to give me a handsome reward.

“Very vell, your majesty,” the doctor replied.

I mean it’ll help with the jo- 

“What did you just say?” Eryn asked in a hurried voice. He had to have misheard the doctor. Afterall, he was old and there was no way he’d-

“My queen, are you sure you wish to be left alone with this… complete stranger?” the guard asked. Eryn’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as his jaw dropped.

There was no denying it now: Eryn had unknowingly saved the Queen of Arendelle, his target.

“I’m certain,” the queen said, “now if you’ll excuse us.” She motioned them away

Eryn propped himself up on his arms as the doctor and guard began to walk away. A thousand thoughts raced through Eryn’s mind, most of which were a variety of curse words directed at himself. He was baffled at the sight. Ever since he was young, he had the idea that queens were all old miserable hags with more wrinkles on them than a pig. But here in front of him was a young woman who looked like a gift from the old gods! Damn this kingdom and damn myself he thought.

Once the two were out of sight, the queen set her sights on Eryn, a gentle smile on her face. “Arendelle thanks you,” she began, “Your brave deed saved the lives of both me and my sister. Is there any way we can repay you?” Well, you can start by offing yourself, Eryn thought bitterly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, “Anyone would have done the same.”

“Can I at least have your name?”

“Excuse me?”

The queen giggled, “Well, if I’m to properly thank my hero, I should at least know his name.”

Eryn racked his brain, desperately trying to remember his alias. After a moment, he finally pieced his memory back together. “Name’s Derrik,” he answered confidently, “Derrik Ormiester, your majesty.”

“Now what brings you to Arendelle, Mr. Ormiester?”

“Oh, the normal things, sightseeing, fortune making, monarch saving.” Eryn subtly gritted his teeth when he said “monarch saving.” Luckily the queen didn’t pick up on the disdain in his voice.

“Speaking of monarch saving,” she chuckled, “I have something I would like to ask you.”

As if this couldn’t get any worse, Eryn thought. Not even five minutes into their conversation and he had thought of  at least a dozen different ways to kill her.

“And what would that be?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Before she could deliver her question, the door to the infirmary swung open. Eryn slightly turned his head to see a burly guard approach the queen. In his hand, he held several papers and two familiar sacks. The queen looked at the guard with an annoyed expression. Eryn’s heart sank into his stomach.

“My queen,” the guard said as he saluted the monarch, “I do apologize for the intrusion. We’ve finished the investigation of the steed left in the square. It seems that it belonged to a ‘Derrik Ormiester,’ but we haven’t found him yet.”

“You’re looking at him,” Eryn interrupted coldly, “And what happened to the other sack? There were three!” The guard scowled at Eryn before continuing, “It appears that someone made off with one of the bags. But, that should be the least of your concerns.” The guard untied one of the bags and drew out a small gold coin. “These coins,” he explained, “are from Weselton. Both of these bags are filled with them.”

The queen took the coin from the guard and studied it. She turned back to Eryn, a puzzled look plastered across her face. Eyrn was silently cursing the guard for losing part of his fortune.

“Why do you have all this money? And from Weselton of all places?” she asked.

“Uh- well…” Eryn racked his mind for an excuse at a feverish pace. “The truth is, I’m… the son of a minor noble in Weselton.”

“Really?”

“Yes, yes. You see, my father had power over a small tract of land in Weselton, Unfortunately, he passed unexpectedly from… a hunting accident.” The queen let out a small gasp. “At his funeral the duke claimed the land and estate as his, leaving me with only four sacks of gold to my name. So, I set my sights on Arendelle to rebuild my family fortune.”

The queen placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand,” she replied sympathetically, “The Duke has caused his own share of problems here.”

Eryn feigned a look of sympathy. In reality, he was thinking of a way to actually finish his mission. He didn’t care about some political disputes, he just wanted to kill the whore and be done with it. No amount of praise and ‘heroic duty’ would make him any richer, nor would it solidify his place in history. Only the blood of the woman in front of him would do that.

“However,” the queen continued, “I can offer you a way to rebuild your fortune, if you wish.” 

To say Eryn was intrigued would be an understatement. “I’m listening…” he said, slightly turning his head.

“This attempt on the lives of me and my sister have made me realize how sparse our security is. I’m looking for someone who is able to provide that security. Someone… like you.”

Eryn did a double take at the queen’s words. “You want me… to be your bodyguard?”

“If you are willing. I won’t force you.”

Eryn’s face lit up like a candle. Here he was, feeling stupid for accidentally saving his intended target. Now, she’s here offering him the chance to be as close as he can possibly get to her. It’s perfect! “I humbly accept the position, your majesty,”  he said.

“Excellent!” the queen returned the coin to the guard. “Have these sent to the guest room, the large one.”

“Yes, Queen Elsa,” the guard answered, a sense of uncertainty in his voice. With that, the guard exited the infirmary, leaving Eryn and Elsa alone.

“Once you’re fully healed, report to me in my office,” she said, “For now, just rest and let your wounds heal.”

“As you wish,” Eryn responded, faking a smile. He held his smile until she was out of eyesight. When he heard the door shut, his smile turned into a devious grin.

“Eryn, you crafty bastard,” he muttered to himself as he placed his hands behind his head, “Even when you fuck up royally, things always tend to work out...”

[misterewrites]

Jack’s Annoyingly Insightful Mall Trip

Hello everyone, Mr.E here with a fun little story. Working hard to get back into to writing and today I am happy to bring you a little nova story! YAY! been forever. So I have to make this quick because it’s late but basically my good friend deth @marionette-j2x asked me for a little oneshot story and here it is.

So basically a kinda noncanon story that is set a few months after the last major story arc of Nova vs. Jack is searching for a new bowtie in the one place he hates the most: the mall. During his search, he runs into a familiar blue haired maid and makes a deal in exchange to save his beloved accessory. 

That’s it for me for now. I am a bit rusty but I hope you enjoy the story. Also slight nova spoilers.  Jelina everyone’s favorite blue haired maid belongs to my good friend deth @marionette-j2x and Jack is mine. Have an amazing week and I’ll see you all soon!

Jack mumbled unhappily to himself as he wandered the Echo Creek Mall alone, the handful of people scattered about really highlighting the vast emptiness of the building.

Normally Jack wouldn’t have come at all on a Monday but with his mother currently overseas and the need for a new bowtie imminent, he had no choice to but brave the sea of similar stores trying to sell him the same thing.

He had been hoping his two best friends would have been able to join him on this trip but naturally the two were quick to play their excuses: Nova was supposedly forced to go to Mewni with her mother and Connor claimed that he was currently trying to prevent roombas from escaping into the outside world.

Jack scoffed in disbelief “They’re vacuum cleaners. Of course they don’t have any natural predators”

Jack stopped mid-step once he remembered what exactly Connor’s parents did for a living.

“Oh that’s actually terrifying.”

He shook his head, trying to clear the thought away as he resumed his search.

His eyes lazily glanced from storefront to storefront, each increasingly less appealing than the last.

A sigh escaped his lips as Jack rubbed the now empty space where his beloved bowtie once was. He felt so off without his signature accessory but nothing could be done about it. It was torn and Jack’s years of ignoring his mother trying to teach him how to maintain and fix various fabrics had gotten back at the magician at least.

Not that he would ever admit that.

Jack scratched his cheek mindlessly, trying his best to stay focus on the task but between the fact that he didn’t really want to be here especially alone and that none of the bowties he had seen so far really spoke to him, he really just wanted to go home and risk heading to the monthly magician’s meeting tie less.

“Ugggggggggggggh” Jack whined “Whyyyyyy is this so annoyingly hard? Why can’t it be like those cartoons where the character wanders around for like a second and then the perfect bowtie is just there, gleaming brightly within some unrealistic angelic glow, beckoning them to buy them. Probably at an insanely high price for comedic effect.” Jack gave a playful shrug “Thank Hades I’m rich annnnnd I’m talking to myself. Yeah, time to go.”

He pivoted on his feet, turning towards entrance when he was blinded by a harsh light. He covered his eyes, hissing furiously.

“Whoops” a voice called out “Sorry about that. Let me just put the cover back on annnnnd...”

The lights dimmed as Jack rubbed his eyes. He squinted carefully at the man putting the plastic covering back onto the overhead lights.

“Sorry kid!” The janitor apologized while he climbed down the ladder “I forget how bright these bulbs are.”

Jack groaned, absolutely done with this entire trip when he spotted a familiar person.

His eyes narrowed, unable to keep the glare out of his gaze as she came strolling into the mall.

Jack ducked behind a nearby trash can, squatting low to make sure Jelina didn’t see him.

His mind raced with suspicious thoughts: Though Star and the council had cleared Kim and his maids several months ago citing some sort of mind control played a part in Nova’s abduction, Jack was naturally less inclined to trust them. Especially with the whole shooting a rocket at him and his favorite human.

Might’ve made it a bit personal to him.

Just a little.

If Jack didn’t know better (Which, luckily, he did) he would’ve guessed she was a simple, slightly robotic looking human just exploring the mall. She was dressed far more casually than the last time the two meet: A blue blouse with black undershirt, dark blue demi jeans and flipflops though she still kept her hair up in her buns with her two headphone..antennas? Were they antennas or…

“Focus Jack!” the magician scolded himself.

He expected Kim and her sisters to come walking in after her but aside from checking her comically large purse for a moment and quizzically staring at her surroundings, no one came and Jelina tentatively began walking towards the center of the mall.

Jack rose to full height, still openly glaring. She had to be up to something! She was a demon lord’s maid and Jack knew first hand the only reason demons come to Earth was because they’re bored. He should know that’s why he lived here.

“Hey kid.” The janitor asked with a hint of concern “Are...are you okay? You’re still squinting. I-I can get you some eye drops if you need them.”

“I’m fine” Jack growled

“…..okay.”

Jack bolted, quickly closing the gap between him and Jelina. He was going to find out what evil deed she was up to, no matter how long it took!

10 minutes later

“Ugggggggggggggh” Jack whined, trying his best to prevent boredom from overtaking his resolve as he hid against a wall.

Jelina was a very uninteresting subject to follow. So far she wandered aimlessly, taking a second to look at a store or vendor booth before timidly shuffling to another location. Once or twice she would take a step forward towards entering a place before changing her mind and altering course. The only thing that seemed to really catch her attention were some stuff animals at a toy store but even that wasn’t enough to lure her within. Jack was starting to suspect she knew someone was tailing her and was trying to bore them into leaving. That was the only explanation he could think of about her strange actions though he was fairly certain she wasn’t aware of who was on her trail.

“Hello Mr. Ordonia”

Jack jumped back startled, wincing in pain when the back of his skull slammed into the wall behind him.

“Oww! Son of...” He grimaced.

Jelina’s face was indifferent though Jack could see the subtle crook of a smile.

“I am sorry if I startled you” She spoke neutrally “It was not my intention.”

“Sure” Jack replied sarcastically “How did you even know I was here?”

Jelina gestured to her headphones “I heard you talking to yourself about me. I suspect you assume I am for some sinister purpose. I can assure you I am simply a tourist today.”

“A tourist? To Earth?” Jack rose an eyebrow “No demon is that bored!”

“Good thing I am a cyborg.” Jelina answered. Jack could hear the sass behind those words.

“Let’s say I believe you.” Jack began.

“You clearly don’t.”

Jack ignored her “Why the mall? This place isn’t even exciting during peak hours. Pretty strange place to pick on your day off. If it is your day off!”

Jack gave an accusatory point with his finger but Jelina just nodded “Yes it is in fact my day off.”

Jack’s finger dropped as he tried to process this information “I...but...”

“To speed this along, my lord, my sisters and I are currently under probation. After being monitored for several months along with full cooperation, the council has agreed to lift the dimensional travel ban under the condition we do not cause further trouble. Master Kim felt terrible about the situation we accidentally were dragged into and gave us each a day off.”

“So where are your sisters?” Jack eyed the surroundings carefully, half expecting them to jump out in an ambush.

Jelina took a deep breath “While I am grateful and respect the lord of the manor, I am afraid we would return to a pile of ash if we left Master Kim unattended for a day.  

Jack laughed “Hahah that’s funny. Demon lords are so helpless.”

“Like you?”

Jack huffed causing Jelina to grin mischievously

“So let me guess, it’s your turn and you decided to come to a mall?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

It was subtle but there was a shift in Jelina’s stance. What was once indifference was now guarded though timid.

“I am afraid to admit to you that I do not leave the house often.”

“No kidding” Jack smirked.

It was Jelina’s turn to glare “Well in any case I decided my first trip onto Earth should be the mall. It is such staple of many movies it seemed a perfect first choice.”

“Riiiiiight okay I’m going to go now. Bye!”

“Wait.”

Jack paused, surprised at the softness in the maid’s voice.

“I...” Jelina gulped nervously “I...don’t know how this works….”

“The mall? It’s not….” Jack caught the embarrassed blush on her cheeks “...always easy to navigate the first time.”

Jack let out a sigh “Okay, look if I help you through the mall, can you do me a favor?”

“Oh?” Jelina tiled her head quizzically “I admit I wasn’t expecting that to be honest but I suppose if it’s within my power and reasonable.”

“You’re a maid, right?”

“You know this Mr. Ordonia.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at the smiling Jelina “Call me Jack. Anyway, I take it you have someone who maintains Kim’s clothing? Like a tailor?”

Jelina nodded in agreement “Yes. Do you need something made or repaired?”

“Yeaaaah. If I show you around the mall, will you have them fix my bowtie?”

“That seems fair though you may have to wait a while for the tailor to perform their work.”

“That’s fine, better than wandering this hellscape for a replacement. Alright, where do you want to go first?”

_____________________________________________

“Sooooo” Jack gestured halfheartedly to the loose circle of various food booths “This is the food court where there is a court..of food.”

Jelina’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement “Interesting though I imagine this must be difficult for someone particularly indecisive. I am surprised the Underworld hasn’t adopted this as a form of torture.”

“Oh I’m sure my father is working on it” Jack murmured unhappily.

Jelina glanced at the half demon out of the corner of her eye but decided it was best to say nothing.

“Do you think we can try one?”

“Umm yeah...sure. What are you feeling? Burger? Chicken bowl? Pizza?”

“…..”

Jack rose an eyebrow as Jelina stood there, eyes darting back and forth between the various options.

“You trying to pick?”

“Yes”

“Indecisive, are we?”

Jelina’s indifferent face broke into a surprisingly cute pout that caught Jack completely unaware.

“No, I am calculating the best choice for a meal.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that.”

“That is because you suck Jack.”

Jelina giggled playfully, breaking into a sprint as Jack gave chase.

______________________________________________________

Jack lazily tossed a fry into his mouth as Jelina cheerfully finished up her burger.

“I think I want to go here” Jelina gestured to a storefront, making her way within with Jack close behind.

“There seems to be a theme here.” Jelina thought out while she took in the various clothing options and designs “Are you sure a demon didn’t create a mall?”

Jack shrugged “Who knows but either way they were clearly some sort of evil.”

Jelina pursed her lips, eyes scanning the room as she wandered about.

Jack rolled his eyes, batting at various articles of clothing out of boredom. Just pat that, move this, touch this jacket for a while because the fabric felt nice.

“Jack?”

Jack snapped out of his thought, dropping the jacket sleeve as Jelina stared at him curiously.

“Are you alright? You weren’t talking about yourself so I assumed you had been arrested for shoplifting.”

“Ha ha. Shows what you know, I wouldn’t have been caught.” Jack beamed with pride.

“And you’re proud of this?”

Jack grumbled “You are just the worst….”

“Anyway” Jelina continued “I managed to find some clothes my sisters would love.”

Jack glanced over the articles of clothing and scoffed, snatching them from Jelina’s grip and shoving them onto the clearance rack.

“Hey! I was going to buy those!” Jelina angrily shouted, reaching for the discarded clothing only to have Jack stop her with an outstretched hand.

“No you’re not. That brand is my mom’s chief rival. You don’t want that trash.”

“I will not conform to your biases Jack. If I wish to buy these items, I will.”

“Fine but you’re going to have to have your tailor stitch holes and tears by next week assuming if they even last that long. The fabric is cheap, the sewing shoddy and it’s overpriced.”

Jelina rose an eyebrow “and I’m supposed to believe you?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively as he made his way out of the store “What do I care? It’s your money you’re wasting. My mom’s a lot of things but at least she takes pride in her work.”

Jelina thoughtfully watched the retreating figure of the magician.

Jack fumed on the outside bench, hands cradling his head while he murmured to himself “I really shouldn’t have said anything. What does it even matter? I don’t care. Why should I care what she spends her money on?”

What was he even doing? This was the same person that tried to blow him apart half a year ago and while she ultimately helped and even saved his life, it was less of being a good person and more to save her master. He should just go home and accept that his bowtie was dead and there was nothing to do but give it a proper viking funeral.

Jack went silent as he heard the clack, clack, clack of Jelina’s flip flops approaching.

“I take it your mother is a fashion designer?”

Jack scoffed “What gave it away?”

“Since you convinced me not to buy second rate clothing that my sisters would’ve adored, can you help me find your mother’s brand? And for your sake, they better be as cute as the ones I found.”

“….Fine but only because my mom would kill me if I didn’t at least try to push a sale.”

Jelina gave Jack a gentle smile.

Jack coughed awkwardly as he stood up.

______________________________________________

“So does Master Kim not give you ice cream or do you not know what it is?” Jack teased as the two patiently waited in the line.

Well Jelina was waiting patiently, Jack had his arm crossed, tapping his foot in an annoying fashion.

“Of course I know what ice cream is Jack” Jelina shot back “But this would be the first time in a long time that I wouldn’t have to fight off my sisters for such a treat.”

“Why don’t you all just buy your own?”

“We do. We really just love ice cream.”

“I can strangely relate. I too usually am trying steal ice cream from my friends.”

“I cannot see why Connor puts up with your antics”

“Probably my charm and good grace.”

“It’s certainly not for you humor that’s for sure.”

Jack mumbled under his breath while Jelina gave a crooked smirk. He opened his mouth retort when he caught sight of the headphones covering her ears. She had been wearing them all day. He assumed that it was a personal preference but in this moment, he couldn’t help but recall her words earlier. She was a cyborg which meant she possessed robotic parts intermixed within her human body.

Did Kim do this to her? Was it to save her life or maybe to ruin it? Demons weren’t exactly known for their kindness and that thought made Jack squirm uneasily.

“Stop staring Jack. It’s quite rude and for you, that’s saying something.”

Jack snapped out of it, trying to ignore the icy glance the blue haired maid was sending his way.

“I wasn’t staring, I was thinking.”

Jelina’s eyes widened in surprise “That explains the smoke coming out of your ears. Must be overworking your poor brain.”

“More like underworking.”

“That’s not a word.”

“And you’re not even human!”

Jack hadn’t meant to snap. He didn’t even know why he responded so poorly. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even embarrassment. Maybe some part of him realized how much fun he was having with a near stranger. Maybe he was scared of being lured into a false sense of security, of being set up for some malicious or ill intent. Maybe it was because how easy it was to be so comfortable Jelina that threw him off. He had only met her twice and he already felt like he knew her his entire life. A strange and foreign connection that formed far more quickly than he expected. Someone as sassy and witty as him that he didn’t mind spending time with.  

There was a thick pause as the words tumbled out of Jack’s mouth. If Jelina was hurt or shocked by his response, she didn’t show it but Jack could feel her attitude shift, a distance that wasn’t there before  suddenly grew once more.

Jelina sighed “I am human. Just not completely. Was that what you were thinking of?”

“I...”

“Everyone does” Jelina spoke softly “Sooner or later they noticed my antennas or my headphones or the camera lens in my eyes.”

Jack was confused “Wait, there’s camera lens in your...”

“And they always think how human I must really be” Jelina pushed on “I am very human Mr. Ordonia.”

“Wait, that’s not what I...”

“I think I should go.” there was a finality in her voice that made Jack fidget guiltily.

She turned to him, shook his hand politely and gave a little nod “Thank you for your time”

“Hey wait a minute” Jack growled “I wasn’t thinking about how human you are. I was thinking….”

Jelina was unconvinced “You do not have to lie to me Mr. Ordonia. I know it is your prefer method of avoiding responsibility but I can assure you I am used such responses.”

“Fine” Jack huffed “Fine, what do I care? Just...fine!”

Jack stomped off, unable to control his rage despite his best efforts.

This is why he didn’t help people. This is why he hated the mall and this is why he was just going to go straight home.

____________________________________________________

He hadn’t. Guilt set in shortly after and when he returned to fix his mistakes like Connor taught him, Jelina was nowhere to be seen.

Many people who knew Jack would assume by performing this bare minimum effort to apologize he would clear his conscience and was now able to go home.

But those who truly knew him knew what he was about to do, driven by deep seated moral code he pretended he didn’t have.

He searched the mall. The second floor, the various stores, the court of food, even asking people to check the bathrooms for him. Seconds into minutes into an hour and still he searched.

He nearly gave up and took the weight of his guilt home with him until he heard the scuffling of sneakers across the sleek mall floor somewhere close by. Jack may have been a subpar student with an attention span of a rodent when forced to deal with things he’d rather not but that didn’t mean he was some simpleton.

That particular squeak was caused when someone was putting all their weight down on the balls of their feet, usually in order to brace for impact or preparing to lunge at someone.

Jack rounded the corner to a group of older teens, hands clenched into fists and snarling at Jelina who stood in front a younger girl who clutched at the blue haired maid’s bag fearfully.

“We just wanted the money she owed us” One of the boys shouted, eyes narrowing in righteous fury.

“Stop lying” Jelina scoffed “I know a bully when I see one. You will leave this poor girl alone.”

The trio laughed “Or what?”

“You really don’t want to know” Jack spoke up without warning.

The tap on his shoulder caused one of the bullies to whirl around in surprise, fist raised but Jack had flicked his nose, sending the unprepared bully staggering backwards.

“You best be off and mind your own business.” The leader spoke up, eyes shifting warily between Jelina and Jack on either side of him.

“Bold words for someone whose on fire.”

“What?”

Before anyone realized what was going on, the teen who stumbled over Jack’s sneak attack spontaneously caught ablaze,  flame burning the fabric for a moment as smoke rose upwards. An alarm blared while the sprinklers sprung to life, dousing the flame and bullies into a soppy wet mess. They shouted obscene curse words as they bolted past the lazy magician, tripping and flailing of over the slippy wet floor, the yells of the security guard trailing close behind the trio as they attempted to escape.

Jelina sighed in relief before glancing at the little girl “Are you safe?”

She nodded happily “Thank you!” and she launched herself into Jelina’s arm, wrapping the maid in a tight hug before leaving to search for her mother.

Jelina smiled warmly at the act but when she glanced back, Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Jelina raced down the hallway as quickly as she could only to find Jack casually leaning against the wall, grinning mischievously at the sight of the bullies being hauled away by mall security for setting a fire.

Jelina stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say to the demonic prince. While she no doubt could’ve handled those punks with no issues, she was grateful she didn’t have to wipe blood from her knuckles.

“You’re welcome.”

Jack’s soft voice surprised Jelina.

“I could’ve handled it myself but thank you all the same”

Jack stretched his arms “I know but I figured this was better than you getting in trouble with the council. Wouldn’t want you to be stuck at home for another god knows how many months.”

Jelina hadn’t thought of that. Had she picked the fight with the bullies, even in self defense and defense of another, it was entirely possible the council would’ve viewed it as causing trouble and forced her under harsh monitoring.

“….Thank you Jack.”

Jack grinned impishly “There’s the real one. Well since that concludes our business together.”

Jack pushed off the wall, turning away towards the exit when a hand gripped his shoulder gently.

“Jack….what were you thinking when you were lost in thought?”

“Oh now you believe me.” Jack raised an eyebrow.

Jelina pulled back her hand “You did set someone on fire for me after presumably looking to apologize. It’s only fair I hear what lie you came up with.”

“I never apologize” Jack exclaimed before glancing away “But I have to admit when I really thought about your….cyborgness...”

“Not a word.” Jelina cut in.

“Not caring” Jack continued “I wasn’t thinking if you were human because you clearly are. Like duh. I was thinking did Kim save you or did he do that to you. Demon lords aren’t exactly known….”

“For their kindness” Jelina finished “That is a fair question. I am not used to someone who understands the inter workings of demonic culture so intimately.”

“Yeah me either.”

Jelina paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts and deciding on how best to answer the question “Yes Master Kim did perform the operation on me though it was to save my life and the lives of my sisters. We owe him so much and he has always been kind to us. That’s why we refused to leave his side even when he was clearly not himself.”

“And why you were willing to free me and Connor.” Jack filled in.

Jelina nodded in agreement “You were our best hope….I am sorry I assumed poorly of you. Despite this last hour, I had fun today.”

“Well I didn’t”

Jelina’s face fell “Oh….I...”

“But” Jack rubbed his neck timidly “That’s my fault. I was so caught up in your angle and what you were planning that I pretty much was on guard about everything. When I finally actually stopped and looked at you, thinking about what you’ve been through….well I dunno I guess I wasn’t liking the fact you weren’t as bad as I thought you were. Even if you are really annoying.”

Jelina stifled a chuckle “Just because I do not think poorly of you does not mean you are not irritating.”

“Look, about the bowtie….”

“Oh right” Jelina snapped fingers “Do you have it on you? Given how far you were willing to go just to repair it, I suspect you do.”

“Yes” Jack began slowly “But given how much trouble I almost got you in, it’s okay if...”

“Hand it over Hellspawn.”

Jack wasn’t sure how to feel about the sudden name calling, no matter how accurate, and decided perhaps it was best to just to give her the bowtie. He fished it gingerly out of his pocket and carefully handed it over. It didn’t really matter, the tailor must’ve been back in the Underworld and lord knows how long it took them to fix tears on fabrics. It was only fair that he wait however long it took.

Jelina studied the rip on the strap cautiously as she fished out a small square kit from her purse. She pulled out a sewing needle and thread and before Jack could mutter a single confused curse, she began stitching the beloved bowtie back together, her work fast, efficient and effortlessly. Less than a minute later, the repair work was complete and Jack held his precious bowtie in his hand good as new.

“Thank you for a wonderful day Jack.” Jelina politely bowed and quickly strolled away.

“You are the literal worst maidy!” Jack called out, no real bite to his insult.

Jelina simply smiled to herself, humming softly as she made her way back home.

[x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x]

Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit (Chapter 20: The Pact)

“You want to what?!” Zamasu snarled, eyes blazing in disbelief and repulsion.

“Make her a God,” Black repeated impatiently, glaring back at his former friend.

The basis of Zamasu’s quarrel with you, as Black perceived it, was the fact that you were human. The blood of those filthy mortals ran through your veins, and the fact that you were immortal didn’t do much to soothe the problem. Therefore, he had concluded that the best way to resolve the issue would by simply making you one of them. However, the process involved certain aspects that well…..Zamasu may find more than unsavory.

“I happened to stumble upon a few books…” Black began, but was rudely cut off by Zamasu.

“I am aware!” He growled, shaking his head furiously. “I too happened to find it in my endeavors in the library.”

“Then have we come to an agreement?”

“No! Absolutely not! I would never consent to such a vile way of achieving godhood!” Zamasu retorted, brow twitching in agitation. “That would be a sin a God like us would never be able to live down!”

“Look,” Black pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the voice that screamed out in defiance inside his head. “The book never said how it has to be done, and this is not a plea asking for you to do it, so what do you have against it?”

“We are one in the same!” Zamasu roared, jabbing an accusing finger in his chest. “I would never allow for someone like us to mate with a mortal like that!”

“It never said-”

“Don’t play coy, we all know what ‘bonding’ in that sense means!”

“There’s no other way! I’m not compromising on Y/n’s life.” Black insisted, forcing a low growl out of Zamasu’s mouth.

Damn that human!

Zamasu could tell from a glance that Black was completely infatuated, and how it made his insides heave. Countless Gods and Goddesses fallen, all because of their love for a mere mortal. And to think that he himself would be one of them. If someone were to tell him this a few years ago, he would have laughed and told them to stop dreaming about the impossible. But as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Black’s help. Even if he was immortal there would be no possible way to eradicate the Saiyans from the future once and for all, they would keep coming back, he knew that much. At this rate, he would have no choice but to accept his proposition if he wanted to stay with Black. Zamasu needed his strength.

And then there was you. He huffed lightly as he contemplated the advantages and disadvantages of keeping you with Black, passing judgment on your life. Obviously, you had moved away from civilization for a reason, though you did seem to sometimes contradict your actions by going back to rescue some innocent survivors. You didn’t seem to have a great connection with any human other than Trunks and Mai, and that itself worked in your favor. But still, you didn’t seem to be able to let go completely, which was something Zamasu absolutely despised. Paradise had no room for someone with a foot in both worlds, unable to let go of the past nor embrace the future, instead hanging by a thread from both sides and threatening to ruin his perfect dream.

Yet neither could Black. He still clung onto you like a drowning man to a lifeline, and Zamasu knew that he had fallen into a ravine so deep that he would never be able to fully resurface. Some part of him had shriveled up and died the day he had met you, though no one was sure exactly what. And Zamasu knew that the only way to Black would ever cooperate was with you by his side.

He needed to sever the physical tie between you and the humans that you had dwelled with for so long, and the best way to do that would be to ascend you to a level no one else on that sordid planet could ever hope to achieve. Godhood.

But the thought of the ritual necessary to do that, at least to the green Kai, was more than despicable. His lip curled just thinking about it, but at least his assistance would not be required.

Finally, after about ten minutes of silence, Zamasu spoke again. “This is all according to you assuming that she will agree to become a God and the ritual. You are aware that this process only works if the chosen one has fully committed their heart and soul to the title, and that there are no do-overs.”

“Yes.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Don’t worry, I will convince her without fail.”

“If that stupid thing does anything that would jeopardize us or the plan, I will not be so merciful this time.” Zamasu glanced at his partner with distaste.

“….Fine,” Black agreed solemnly. “Then it’s a deal.”

“I’ll be awaiting your return at the cabin.” The fact that Zamasu had managed to evade his prison only made Black surer than ever that it was the right thing to do. He was much too dangerous even without the powers of Son Goku aiding his abilities. Giving you the powers of a God would level the playing field a little should he ever come after you again, though Black sincerely doubted that he would. They needed each other as much as you needed Black, and by keeping the only two beings in the universe who held any sort of value to him close by, he could make sure none of you did anything that would hurt their chances of accomplishing an ideal world. Black would be constantly scrutinizing Zamasu, as would Zamasu to Black. As they said, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and no one knew better than the two Gods who brought the downfall of an entire universe.

The green-skinned Kai seemed to realize it too, since he provided no further argument.

“For Paradise.”

“For Paradise.” Black echoed.

Zamasu reluctantly clasped his outstretched hand, and the dream was no more.

***

Black woke with a gasp, immediately shooting up to a sitting position and jolting you off his chest with a grunt. Panting, he looked agitatedly around the cave, finally registering his current location. A meek, red and orange morning sun was just peeking through the ragged horizon, painting your features with a gentle golden glow.

Like a true Goddess…..

He stared at you completely captivated, and slowly as if scared of breaking you, he reached out a hand to brush a strand of your hair out of your face. The angels he had met throughout his long life appeared so insignificant compared to you, and he didn’t care what anyone else said. Even as disheveled as you were, there was a certain charm that invariably drew him to you like a singing siren.

A small whimper drew his attention abruptly away from you much to his annoyance. It was him. Trunks still lay in the corner, snoring softly with his mouth parted, and seemed to be in a deep, restless slumber. Black sneered and another carnal urge to rip the young boy limb from limb jolted through him, but he couldn’t, not with you sleeping right next to him. He knew you would never forgive him and right now was not the best time to piss you off. It was going to take everything he had to gain your cooperation. This was not to mention that he still hadn’t fully recovered from their three-way brawl. Most of his wounds were healed thanks to his Saiyan body, but the fight had been absolutely brutal and left all three of them severely injured. He had been running on adrenaline these past few days, and no matter how well he hid his desperation to see you again, his body could not.

Black hadn’t noticed that he had zoned out again until a light tug at the hem of his tattered and slightly burnt gi diverted his thoughts.

You peeked shyly at him through one half-lidded eye, still drowsy with sleep.

“Why are you up so early?” You yawned, sitting up gingerly. He stared at the hand that was still on his shirt in a mixture of wonderment and puzzlement, with a little bit of uncomfortableness. After all this time, he still wasn’t really used to anyone willingly touch him in a way that wasn’t violent, like a punch or a kick. And he doubted that any of the remaining humans would even dare to come within ten feet of him, let alone touch him so casually. You never ceased to amaze him.

“Black?”

“Hm yes?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Did you have a nightmare?”

He almost laughed at the absurdity of your question. Him? Nightmare? One could argue that he was a nightmare in the purest, physical form. He had slaughtered entire planets in cold blood and here you were asking him if he had a nightmare.

“No no, of course not,” Black chuckled quietly, flicking a lock of dark black hair out of his eye. “I was just thinking about how much easier it would be for both you and me if you were able to strip yourself of that unworthy title of human.” Straight to the point as always.

“Huh?” You scrunched your face in confusion. “What are you saying Black?”

It was at the latest seven in the morning and you had gotten your ass whooped by Mother Nature consecutively for the last few days, and now this? Your brain was barely functioning as it was, and you sat there in utter confusion for a few seconds trying to process his words as Black straightened out his clothes awkwardly waiting for you to finish.

Maybe I was too forward……. Black began doubting himself, something he found himself doing a lot in your presence. It was a trait that he used to find juvenile and foolish, yet he couldn’t help it anyways.

“Well,” Black coughed after a few more seconds of silence on your part. He shook his head and puffed out his chest, eyes darkening to form the cold, hard exterior that he displayed to the rest of the world. “Last night Zamasu appeared to me in a dream.”

You narrowed your eyes at the mention of his name, but said nothing.

“We have both come to the conclusion that it would be beneficial for you to become one of us.”

“One of you?” You repeated, not quite understanding the meaning of what he was trying to say.

“Yes. A God.”

“But I’m already immortal, what would ‘becoming a God’ like you say make any difference?”

“Because that is the only way for Zamasu to ever accept and allow you to witness the creation of a new and improved universe.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Black held up a hand, to which you unwillingly obliged.

“Additionally, your strength would be more than doubled from your current weak state-”

“Hey!”

“And you would have access to worlds that only Gods are allowed to step foot upon.”

“If they haven’t already been destroyed by you and that goblin,” You said acidly, making his eye twitch in displeasure.

“Rest assured, they haven’t been. And you will no longer have an association with those mortals you unfortunately share the same blood with. You will no longer be human, and this the only way you will be able to remain by my side.”

“Why does it matter to you what Zamasu wants?” You argued quietly, trying not to disturb Trunks.

“It’s not just what he wants, and we both know it whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then I will no longer be able to protect you from Zamasu and the demolition of the universe.”

“Is that what he promised you?”

“No, it is based on my own decision and calculations. The first time in my long life that I had felt fear was the day I lost you to Zamasu’s ploy, and found you snatched away from my grasp. I refuse to lose you to him again.” You felt his arm tighten around your waist until it was almost painful, but you were too touched to say anything in return.

“If I agree to this, what will become of the rest of us?” Black’s muteness gave you the answer. “I can’t just sit back and watch them all die, Black. I just can’t.”

“How could you be so stubborn even after the things I’ve shown you?” He growled harshly, suddenly standing up and leaving you to fall backwards.

“All life has meaning, whether it be good or bad, and I don’t think it should be carelessly thrown away.” You winced as you forced yourself to your feet after him, and in a bold move grabbed him by the front of his shirt. If you were anyone else you would have been a bloody pulp on the floor, but all Black did was stare down at you blankly. “I know you think that what you’re doing is correct, and that you're willing to do anything to finish your mission and I love you for that, but this is not right.”

He raised a hand causing you to flinch but you didn’t let go, and you could see the subtle awe in his eyes. Instead of hitting you, he merely placed it on top of yours engulfing you in warmth, positioned over his heart.

“This world was built upon sacrifice, Y/n. So many lives lost to build this pandemonium of avarice and destruction. This is the only path to a better future, and though it may be bloody, it is a step I am willing to take, and I hope you will too. I am not asking you to kill for me, but offering you a chance to see a world reborn, if only you will give up your humanity. We can reign side by side together, as glorious Gods of justice, overlooking an eternity of peace.” He drew back and brushed his lips over yours, but before you could return the subtle gesture, he pulled away with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Just say yes,” Black encouraged, smoothing your cheek with a calloused thumb. “Just say yes and the world can be ours.”

Your brain was running a few thousand miles an hour inside your head right now, but you managed to separate the two rattling trains of thought apart from each other. On the one hand, that would mean betraying Trunks and the others, and you would no longer be human. You could already imagine the hurt and bewilderment dancing in his crystal-blue eyes, as you had come to regard him as the only family you had left and you his. But on the other hand, it really couldn’t be anything worse than what you had already done, and if what Black had said was true, then you may have a better fighting chance at protecting the survival of the last of humanity. Not to mention that it would make it harder for Zamasu to kidnap you again. What more could you lose?

You sighed, knowing since the first time you met him that some day your reckoning would come. It was finally time to choose a side, and no matter how much it hurt, there was only one logical solution for someone like you, stuck between two worlds that couldn’t coexist.

And you chose Black.

You didn’t even have to utter a word for him to understand your decision, that was how well he knew you now.

Victory was once again his.

[okaypottah]

With the Spin of a Bottle

for the lovely @rosadearest as a part of our fix exchange thing! (other authors are @tossermalfoy @peraltiago-drarry @ssoftdrarry @pixiemalfoy)

okay so i sort of mixed a few prompts sorry the main thing is "eighth year+games+harry got hot+pansy is done w draco's whining". no warnings, just some makeout sess in the end. word count is about 1.6k.

happy reading!

-

They'd been in the Eighth Year common room, going over Charms notes for their test next week when Pansy'd nudged him with her foot and out of blue, said. "We should throw a party."

"Pansy, no." Draco'd absentmindedly replied, twirling his quill between his fingers, eyes going over his loopy script although truth to be told he stopped paying attention ten minutes ago.

"Pansy, yes." His friend had said, eyes practically gleaming when he had turned to look at her, chin in the palm of his hand that was propped up. "Nothing too over the top, maybe a game or something? Spin the Bottle, that's it! They were always fun back in the Slytherin dorms."

"Nobody's gonna come, Pans." He'd sighed before glaring at the burning fireplace, "Everybody's busy with Potter. As always. Stupid scarface with his ugly glasses and stupid heroic stories-" He'd stopped abruptly when he'd seen the look on Pansy's face. "Um. What?"

She'd simply stared, before shaking her head. "Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

He'd looked at her, eyebrows drawn together in confusion when she'd sat up, a fierce determination in her eyes that made him go 'uh oh' even before she spoke.

"I've suffered through it for far too long. But not anymore. Merlin forbid," With her nose in the air, she'd continued, "Mark my words; You're gonna have Potter between your legs by tonight."

He'd almost felt dizzy with all the blood rushing to his face so fast and only had enough time to yell out a horrified Pansy! before the shorter Slytherin was out the portrait hole, leaving him alone.

And that's how Draco ends up here, with a positively terrified-looking Longbottom on his left and Blaise on his right. Fifteen minutes into the game and everybody is missing a clothing or two, cheeks slightly colored due to the Firewhiskey that Finnigan and Thomas had got.

Contrary to what he'd said, Pansy managed to bring a lot of people. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, the few Slytherins who'd returned (namely Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Theo) and of course, the rowdy Gryffindors.

And Potter. Sitting directly across from Draco, between Weasley and a furiously blushing Hufflepuff girl, clad in a fitting black tee and muggle jeans that make Draco's face scrunch in distaste but of course he only sees him because he has working eyes. Not that he's been sneaking glances at him, pfft no.

"Alright. Alright, enough smooching. Time to continue the game. Now," Pansy's voice filters through. Her eyes lock with his and he gives the smallest of shakes which makes her roll her eyes and look around the circle. “My turn. The bottle, please.”

Blaise tosses the long-since empty bottle of Firewhiskey to the shorter Slytherin and she gives it a spin. Several pairs of ever follow the movement of the bottle in obvious anticipation, and Draco almost screams ‘Cheater!’ when the bottle comes to a stop.

“Potter." She feigns distaste but her voice has a gleeful edge to it, one he doubts anybody else had detected, and it makes Draco sigh quietly.

"I am not kissing you." Potter states bluntly, and Draco fully expects Pansy to hex him because she's never handled rejection well, but when he cocks his head to the side, she simply tilts her head. "Uh, no offense."

Pansy smiles sweetly, and Draco raises a brow at that. "Oh, none taken. But you know the rules; if you refuse to kiss, you have to do a dare."

Potter's brows furrow, "I'm pretty sure that rule did not exist a minute ago."

Pansy simply waves a hand dismissively, "That's because everybody was doing it. Now," She has a mischievous glint in her eyes as she says, "As for your dare, remove a piece of your clothing. Socks don't count, don't be a prude." She chastises when the brunette makes to remove his socks. "You know what, lose the shirt."

Potter's brows shoot up and Draco sniggers under his breath, fully expecting the Gryffindor to start stuttering protests, but then the brunette shrugs and proceeds to pull his black t-shirt over his head and off, not even bothering to remove his glasses. He pushes his hair out of his face and throws the shirt somewhere behind him, and only then does he register the silence of the room.

"Um .." He trails off, questioning gaze shifting from one person to another. They meet Draco's briefly, and the blonde hastily looks away because oh my fucking god.

Okay, so from the time he accidentally bumped into the prat in the hallway in the beginning of the term, Draco knew Potter had grown taller over the summer after the war, standing almost a head above him. It’s been annoying, yes, no fun in mocking someone taller than you (leaves too many openings for height-related jabs) but this ... this is just ...

Finnigan lets out a low whistle. “Well. Looking good, Harry.”

Good might just be the biggest understatement of the century but Potter, ever so modest, simply smiles, one corner lifting above the other as he shrugs. “I had a summer off.”

Draco very nearly avoids choking on his drink. That’s all he has to say? He wants to glare at the brunette but that would involve actually facing him and ah, that’s sort of a problem because with the shirt out of the way, Draco can understand why the t-shirts always seemed to be too-small for the Gryffindor.

“It’s your turn, Harry.” Granger pipes up from where she’s leaning against Weasley (gross), and Potter nods, seemingly disinterested as he’s handed the bottle. A flick, and the room’s silent as everybody watches with rapt attention who gets to lock lips with the Golden Boy.

The bottle seems to spin for all eternity, and Draco is sure he’s had a little too much to drink when it finally comes to a rest.

Pointed. Right. At. Him.

Naturally, since the universe hates him.

A moment of silence, before Draco turns to face his former bestfriend with a glare. “You did this.”

Pansy simply rolls her eyes. “Draco, darling, I didn’t do anything. There’s this thing called science, maybe you’ve heard of it? So, when you spin the bottle, the force applied sets the –“

“Oh, shut up.” Draco practically hisses, his grip tightening.

“Dare’s to perform a striptease during breakfast tomorrow.”

Draco sputters. “Wha– Why do I get the dare? What about Potter? Why does Golden Boy get a pass?”

“No, that’s because Potter doesn’t have a problem with it.” Granger cuts in, turning to the brunette in question with a delicate eyebrow raised. And then they have a silent conversation consisting of glares, headshakes, more brows raised and finally, a deep sigh.

“Fine,” Potter says, then meets Draco’s eyes across from him. “Come here, Malfoy.”

“You’re not actually thinking of–“ He stops when he sees Potter’s face, and quite petulantly, grumbles, “You come here.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to kiss me, smartass, so get your arse over here unless you want the entire school to get an eyeful of your glorious abs.”

“Fair point.” He says, before arching a brow - something Draco can swear he wasn't able to do before just now- a smirk playing on his lips, “Glorious, eh?”

“Fuck off.” He spits as Potter stands and makes his way to Draco, his jeans hanging low on his hips.

Once he’s in front of the blonde, he crouches, saying, in a low voice, “I’m gonna um, do it now, I suppose.”

“Try not to bite my tongue off, thanks.” He says nonchalantly, but internally freaking the fuck out.

Potter’s voice drops an octave lower as he adds, “I believe there are better ways to shut you up.”

Draco’s mind is still processing the last statement, but his eyes fall shut quite involuntarily when Potter leans in and pecks his lips, a brief press of warmth against his lips, before leaning back.

“The Saviour kisses like a First Year, what a shame.” Pansy boo’s, boredom evident in her voice. “Doesn’t count unless you have them moaning underneath you, Potter.” She smirks, “Or is that too much for you?”

Potter turns and glares at the Slytherin, wow nice side profile, Potter, “Is that a challenge, Parkinson?”

Pansy simply shrugs. Draco knows what she’s doing. He also knows that Potter, the thickhead, doesn’t know what she’s doing. What he doesn’t know is if he should be worried that he’s actually wanting it.

It being more than just a press of lips.

Potter turns back to look right into Draco’s eyes and the blonde’s breath hitches in his throat at the sheer intensity in the green orbs. He’s so close he can see the flecks of gold in the green eyes, see the bump on the bridge of his nose from when he’d broken it.

A hand on his cheek tilts his head to the side and a warm mouth directly presses against his. He leans back, his hand loses it’s grip on the mug of Firewhiskey, and he briefly hears someone-probably Blaise- curse about getting wet, but Draco doesn’t care because Merlin, can Potter kiss.

He feels teeth graze his bottom, warm tongue parting his lips and oh, okay. His hands fly up, one in the brown curls, tugging at the roots and eliciting a low moan from the brunette himself. The other traces the hard outlines of Potter’s muscles, before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him closer and closer.

One of Potter’s hands goes to squeeze Draco’s knee and his legs part of their own accord. Potter surges forward, now between his legs, hand shifting so that it’s under this thigh and pulling their bodies flush against each other. Draco’s leg is thrown over his hip and the need to just feel burns hot, as if there’s liquid fire running through his veins.

Their foreheads are still pressed together after they part, chests heaving up and slw as they pant, and as he stares into those starting green eyes with his leg wrapped around Potter’s waist and a hand gripping his hip possessively while a certain hardness presses against the inside of his thigh, a random thought comes to his mind.

Pansy did get Potter between his legs.

-

random ending whelp. hope u liked it<3 -a