#I mean they look like each other w a filter thrown on them

[lil-gae-disaster]

It was surely awkward when Frederick found about about the Laurens-Hamilton affair...

(It absolutely doesn't help that they both lived in England for a while)

(@hamalicious-soup @marsfingershurt)

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 7 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Sunday lunch with the nightcrew bois, what secrets will come out?

Warnings: Emotional abuse

W/C: 1.9k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 8

The sun was too fucking bright. You groaned and rolled over, mouth dry and head pounding. Your phone told you it was almost eleven, which meant you only had an hour to get ready. That was okay, though. You weren’t exactly dressing to impress. It was only Manny and Frankie . . . Frankie.With a wince, you remembered your conversation with him last night. Had it been painfully obvious that you were talking about yourself? Surely not, if he was drunk too. But as you showered, you thought about what he said, and realised that he was right. At least, he was right about what you could remember him saying. Leaving Kurt wouldn’t mean you would be alone and unloved. You had Manny and Sara; you knew they loved you. But that didn’t change that if you left, you’d have nowhere to go. You had never been the type of person to ask for handouts, especially sympathy handouts. There was just too much to think about.

A text from your phone from Sara told you as much as you needed to know about her night went.

Manifestation WORKS 😉 sent 8:34AM

You spent a few extra minutes washing your face, enjoying the feel of cool water on your skin. Flecks of makeup that you had slept in swirled down the drain, grey and black and blue. Tiny bits of glitter glinted on your cheeks, reminding you of days past when you would drown yourself in glitter to go out clubbing. The memory made you smile, remembering how carefree and happy you were just a few years ago.

Grabbing your darkest pair of sunglasses, you were ready to go. You hadn’t bothered with styling your hair beyond running a quick brush through, and your face was devoid of makeup aside from any remnants left from last night.

It was a quick walk to the bistro, your stomach roiling the entire time. You knew it was food you needed; you had already thrown up several times last night after arriving home. The thought of filling your stomach spurred you on, your feet moving slightly faster. You whipped out your phone to text Manny.

Get. Bread. Please.

There were a few unread messages from Kurt. You knew that avoiding him was immature and would only come back to bite you on the ass when he came home, but the thought of opening them and actually reading them made you feel ill. And he would know when you opened them; he complained whenever you turned your read receipts off. So, you kept them on, to keep the peace, and just avoided opening his messages until you were ready to deal with them.

The bistro came into view, and you saw Manny already sitting at your usual table on the outside terrace. You sat down gingerly next to him and flashed him a weak smile.

“You look terrible,” he said gleefully, pushing a basket of bread and butter your way. You grabbed a small roll and broke it open, inhaling the warm scent.

“I feelterrible,” you told him. “Hangovers don’t suit me.”

Manny laughed ruffled your hair. You groaned loudly, swatting his hand away, which only made him laugh harder.

“Lover, I’ve never seen you in this kind of state before, let me tease you a little,” he said. You flipped him off and ate another roll.

“Is Frankie here yet?” You asked, trying to keep the hope out of your voice. Judging by the look on Manny’s face, you had failed miserably.

“Crushing on the cook, are we?” He waggled his brows.

“No! Of course not!” You said quickly. Liar a tiny voice whispered in your ear. “I was just wondering if he got the right place.”

“Well, wonder no longer, that’s him isn’t it?”

From your spot on the terrace, you could see the familiar figure walking down the shady street to the bistro. Your palms dampened with sweat at the sight of him.

“Francisco!” Manny called, waving him over. Frankie broke into a half jog, raising his arm in a wave. You sunk slightly in your seat, praying that he wouldn’t bring up your conversation with him last night.

“How’s your hangover treating you?” Frankie asked, taking a seat at the table.

“Fucking terribly,” you said, “this is not at all what I was promised last night when I did my fourth shot.” Manny snorted and turned to the waitress who had appeared at your table.

“Good afternoon, dearest Andrea,” Manny said.

“Manny, hun, you know I hate when you use my full name,” Andi, as she preferred to be called, said. You liked Andi, she a couple years younger than you and working her way through a master’s in engineering. “What are we all having today?”

“My usual, please,” Manny said.

“The greasiest thing on the menu for me, I don’t care what it is,” you said. Andy smiled at you in sympathy, knowing the tell-tale signs of a hangover. She then turned to Frankie.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before,” she said, her voice suddenly an octave higher.

“Francisco, or Frankie if you like,” he said. “Can I have the alfredo?”

“Of course, Frankie, anything else I can get for you?”

You and Manny glanced at each other, Manny with his eyebrow slightly raised. You knew Andi was a flirt, you’d seen her flirt with customers dozens of times, but something about this felt different. Personal. You chewed the inside of your lip, hoping your annoyance didn’t show too plainly on your face.

“So, what didyou do last night, lover?” Manny turned to you once Andi left.

“Drank too much,” you said. “Kurt’s out of town and Sara’s in town so I . . . I could go out. And I saw Frankie and his friends out.”

“Are your friends all as gorgeous as you?” Manny asked, turning to Frankie who blushed deeply.

“I wouldn’t say I’m gorgeous,” he mumbled, adjusting his cap slightly. “I’m just average.”

“Gorgeous and humble,” Manny said, “your partner is a lucky person.”

“I’m not- I uh don’t- I’m not with anyone,” it dawned on you that Frankie was terrible at taking compliments.

“Maybe it’s my personal bias, but out of all his friends, Frankie is truly the most attractive of them,” you said. You knew this could lead to something dangerous, but the chance to see Frankie flustered was just too good to miss.

“Yo-you do?” he asked, turning an even deeper shade of red. You nodded seriously.

“Whoever you date in future is going to be very lucky,” Manny said. Then, never one to linger on a topic for too long, Manny took a sip of his water and declared that it was feelings time.

“Feelings time?” Frankie sounded uncertain.

“Well, neither of us can afford therapy, so we use each other as therapists,” Manny explained. “We started it when I was working at Lou’s, and it’s been so long since I’ve had a good feelings time. Of course, you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, and if you do want, keep it as light or as heavy as your heart tells you. Consent is key.”

Frankie nodded, obviously still unsure of the whole situation. It struck you then how strange you and Manny would seem to an outsider. Andi returned with food for the three of you, placing down the biggest burger you had laid eyes on in front of you.

“Enjoy,” she said with a wink to Frankie. “Come find me personally if you’re not satisfied.”

You could’ve thrown up at the blatant flirting. What made it worse was Frankie seemed to be enjoying it, smiling up at Andi.

“I’ll start,” Manny said, once Andi was gone again. “I’m feeling overwhelmed recently with my new job and the house renovations James and I are undertaking. We had a big fight over fucking tiles last night, and I know we wouldn’t have if I could just be decisive.”

“Does James know how you’re feeling?” You asked. Manny shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’d normally tell him about it in a heartbeat, but he’s been stressed too, and I don’t want to add to it.”

“He’s your husband, right?” Frankie asked and Manny nodded. You glanced at him in surprise. “Husbands should support each other. You usually feel supported by him, right? So why is now any different? His stress is your stress, yours is his. That’s what you signed up for when you got married.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell him what’s going on with you,” you said, realising how ironic that was coming from you.

Manny looked thoughtful as he cut into his vegetable stack. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Now your turn, lover.” You groaned. Feelings time was fine when you were listening to other people, and when the feelings you had weren’t so messy. But you could filter your feelings, and you trusted the two men you sat with.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m feeling like I want to end my relationship. I feel like I’m fucking miserable, but I also feel like I’m trapped. Frankie, you remember that friend I told you about last night? It’s actually me.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious, but I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable by saying that.”

“Oh, my god,” you rubbed your face. “Right. So, like I said, I want to break up with Kurt, but it’s not easy to do.” You waited for one of them to interrupt you, when they didn’t, you went on. “For one, I don’t have enough money to move out. I don’t have much in savings at all because I keep needing to dig into it when he��s short on rent or money for bills or whatever. I don’t love him anymore, I don’t even know if I like him. Also, he said hedkillhimselfifieverleft.”

“Excuse me, he said what?” Manny leant forward, rage curdling his usually placid face. Frankie too, looked furious.

“He said he would kill himself if I ever left,” your voice was small. “I tried, one time, and-and he sent me a video of him tying a noose to a ceiling fan telling me it was my fault he was doing that. So, I went back, because I don’t want his death on my hands.” You realised with growing humiliation that you were crying.

Manny reached across the table and took your hand, holding it gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you said, “it was my problem to deal with.”

“When does he come back?” Frankie asked quietly.

“Tomorrow,” you said. Manny and Frankie exchanged a look and Manny nodded.

“If you let us,” Manny said carefully, “we’re gonna help you get out. We won’t force you into anything, but we want to help.”

“Wait,” you sat back, confused, “wait. Have you too been conspiring behind my back? How? When?”

“No, not til this morning. I gave Frankie my number when I first met him, in case he had any questions. Then he messaged me this morning, and we got to talking about how we can help you.”

“If you want our help,” Frankie said. Part of you felt like you should’ve been angry, but you couldn’t be. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude, with love. You grabbed a napkin and dabbed at your eyes under your sunglasses.

“I think I want help,” you said finally. You knew you couldn’t do this without help, even though it embarrassed you to admit that. Frankie nodded, satisfied.

“Alright, we need to make a plan.”

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 20

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The next chapter is finally here (sorry for the wait). This is so far the longest in this fic so I hope it can make up for my inactivity. Also, thank you so much for 160 followers! I’m really happy people enjoy my work.

Happy Pride Month!

| T/W: This chapter mentions dark topics such as death|

|Translations at the end|

Most of the students were excited for the school day to come closer to an end, but not Marinette. After all, Damian would be leaving at the end of the week. And she didn't want him to go, not yet.

————————————————————

Lightning. That's how fast the school day went by, or at least, that's how it felt to Marinette. As she opened her locker, a thought struck her. 'Dami will be leaving in two days. Two' She was right. Damian's flight to Gotham would be the first day of the weekend. Luckily, it would be at night, meaning that she would have more time with him. But it wasn't that comforting. She didn't want him to leave no matter how selfish she felt, however, she knew he was needed elsewhere. 'But I also need him...'

Hastily, she grabbed her stuff from her locker, eager to return them to her home. Some of her friends attempted to stop her, hoping for conversation, but instead were received with a quick farewell. Though, none of them could take it to heart after all, they knew the reason.

It didn't take long for her to reach her house, it took even less time to reach her room. Upon entry, she had practically thrown her belongings on her desk before taking off in the direction of Le Grand Paris. However, something in her peripheral vision stopped her. Turning her head, she saw it. Soft grey fabric folded neatly on her chaise, illuminated by the light filtering through her window; Damian's hoodie. The fact that she never returned it slapped her in the face. She reached out to feel the cloth in between her fingers. It was cold outside, the hoodie would provide warmth, and so she slipped it on. Grabbing a cookie for Tikki on her way out, Marinette strolled on to the hotel.

It never took long for Marinette to reach the building, this time was no different. The bluenette stared up at the six-story building, the glass doors parting as she entered the white-walled hotel. Her hands found the buttons in the elevator, reaching out to the sixth floor in particular, the restaurant. The lift doors opened, revealing the dining area. Her gaze danced across the room from the white tiled floor to the red flower patterned wallpaper. The vases with red flowers sent an urge of creativity through the bluenette's body, she got rid of it with a snake of her head. Briefly, she scanned the many white circular and square tables before her view finally landed on a familiar figure. She watched as he finished his meal, paid for his food and push the red chair away from the table to make room to stand. Turning, his green-eyes locked with hers, Marinette watched as his usual ice-cold demeanor melt away and a soft, small smile graced his features. Her knees felt weak. That smile, no one else would have seen it before, it was for her and her alone.

Once he reached her side, Damian took Marinette's hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. "How has the rest of your day been?"

A dusting of pink graced her face. "As normal as it can be, but my day is better now I'm here with you"

His green eyes slowly blinked before widening in recognition. "So that's where my hoodie went"

Marinette looked down at the oversized grey fabric covering her body before looking back up and tilting her head to one side. "Do you want it back?"

"You may keep it" his soft smile morphed into a sly smirk. "Ça te va super bien"

The bluenette smiled, pressing her forehead against his upper arm. "Do you want to go on a walk?"

Intertwining their hands, her replied. "With you, always"

~~~

Years. It felt like Damian had known his girlfriend for years despite the fact they had met each other only recently. Had he not hacked into the JLA database simply on the whim of boredom, none of this would have ever happened. The discovery that Paris was under attack, working under the leadership of Ladybug, and most importantly, meeting Marinette. None of that would have ever happened, and he shudders to think of a world without the blue-eyed Angel which he had the honor of calling his girlfriend. Damian couldn't quite remember the last time he was the this comfortable with someone outside of his family, even then he wasn't as comfortable with them as he was now, with Marinette.

"What do you think about a quick patrol?" Damian looked down at the bluenette, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

A blackish-green blur materialised in front of his face. "It'll be a good opportunity to use your miraculous before you go, Kid"

The green-eyed boy looked over at where the bluenette was standing, a red kwami right beside her. "Sure"

"Tikki, Spots On!"

"Plagg, Claws Out!"

A black-cat hero and a ladybug heroine stood in place where Damian and Marinette once were. Ladybug reached for the yo-yo wrapped around her waist. "Race you to the Eiffel Tower!" Without waiting for a response, Ladybug latched her yo-yo onto a nearby chimney and used it to fling herself in the air. Noir huffed, a smile on his face while he used his staff to follow the spotted heroine.

The wind pursuing past his face, the adrenaline that fuelled his veins, Noir could see himself catching up to Ladybug. The bliss that was ignorance didn't last long, unfortunately. This was one of the only times they could use the miraculous and act their age while doing so, or at least, close enough to their age. The feel of duty to protect the citizens of Paris was just a passing memory at that moment. Noir inwardly grimaced, Ladybug and Adrien were both thrown into the situation, expecting to be the heroes despite not having any training beforehand. The others were at least given a choice, the original duo did not.

The black-cat hero shook his head, now was not the time for such thoughts, he was in a race with Ladybug still in the lead. Pushing a little harder, Noir managed to catch up to where the spotted heroine was only a few inches ahead. She turned her head to risk a glance and Noir watched as her eyes widened before she ran faster. 'Have it your way, Angel'

Before Ladybug could mentally respond, Noir made it so they were both running next to one another, threatening to take the lead. 'You're going to have to try harder than that, Minou'. Using her yo-yo, she extended it towards the Eiffel Tower, as it was now it acceptable distance, and flung herself straight to her destination. As her feet touched the platform on the top of the landmark, Ladybug patiently waited for Noir to catch up. She didn't have to wait long.

"I win" Ladybug stated simply. Noir chuckled and sat on the edge of the platform, his legs dangling over the edge.

"It seems like you did" Ladybug stepped behind the black-cat-themed hero, pulling the hood down. She rested herself on her knees as her fingers threaded through his hair, occasionally stroking the ears he gained in his transformation.

"You know," The spotted heroine began after a moment of silence. "I like your kitty-cat ears and I quite like it when your hair is all loose. I still like your gelled-back style though"

Noir tilted his head back, Ladybug continued to play with the strands of hair with her fingers. It continued like this for a while, until Noir felt the ladybug heroine suddenly freeze. "Is something wrong?"

"Just" Ladybug gasped out. "After pain from... Guerrier" She kept a hand on her chest as Noir raised to his feet. She rested her head on his chest as he wrapped himself protectively around her. 'Breathe in... breathe out' The mantra repeated in her head, it kept repeating until there was no need for it anymore. "Not as painful as last time" Ladybug mumbled as she hugged Noir.

"That means you're getting better, correct?" His voice laced with concern. Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she smiled.

"I suppose. How do you handle it? Being a vigilante?" Noir took note of her quick change of subject, he noticed how she would expertly change the focus of the conversation onto someone else, especially when the topic was not one she enjoyed talking about.

"How about we de-transform first?" It would be easier to talk about as his true self, it's easier to talk as just Damian.

The ladybug heroine nodded and they proceeded to jump down to a lower level of the Eiffel Tower, one where citizens were allowed to go. Briefly checking for an unwanted audience, the two heroes de-transformed back into their regular selves, giving their kwamis some food. "So, how do you handle being a vigilante?" Mari repeated gently.

The black-haired boy leaned on the banister, sighing before focussing his attention of his girlfriend. "What do you wish to know exactly?"

Marinette moved closer, leaning over the balcony next to him. "You don't have the miraculous cure, what happens if one of you gets hurt? Or, god forbid, one of you gets..." she trailed off but Damian knew what she was implying.

"We usually have our wounds treated and as for death... it's happened" He felt the bluenette stiffen beside him. "For how we deal with that well... resurrection I suppose"

"Resurrection?" Marinette half-whispered half-screeched. "Yes you come back but you don't come back the same. That's the price you pay."

"We found that out the hard way" Damian grimaced but it softened after he felt the blue-eyed girl rest her hand on his.

"You don't have to tell me"

Shaking his heads Damian continued. "My brother, Todd, was killed by the Joker. A Lazarus Pit was used to bring him back, he didn't come back the same"

"The Lazarus Pit?!" The red kwami screeched as Damian nodded. "Those wretched things should have never existed!" Plagg remained silently resigned, for once.

The bluenette gave a vivid expression of confusion to which Damian sighed. "I'll explain what those are another time" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "It was... challenging to reconnect with him once he had returned home but I'm gratified that he returned" Taking a shaky breath, Damian turned to look at anywhere but the bluenette. "Another person who was killed was... myself"

A sharp inhale was all he heard before Marinette wrapped herself around him. "How did you... die?"

"My mother created a clone of myself after I joined my father, the clone named himself the 'Heretic'. The memory itself is quite hazy as I was around ten when it happened, but I do remember dying, I remember it very vividly. The Heretic-" he took a shaky breath, "-impaled me with his sword." Damian didn't even realise he was shuddering, the girl next to him did. She held onto him tighter, just so he would know that she was there.

"You don't need to talk about it if the memory hurts, Dami" Her voice was low for his ears only, her comforting presence surrounding him. His younger self would have maimed any individual for even having the mere idea of executing this form of condolence. But he wasn't his younger self anymore. During this short trip he had matured in a way that would seem impossible through the eyes of his family back in Gotham, and it was all thanks to Marinette. Speaking of the bluenette, she pulled back from the hug, her bewitching bluebell orbs staring intently through his emerald eyes.

"Damian" Marinette placed her hand on his cheek, forcing his full attention on her and like always, she had him entranced. "You're in Paris, on the Eiffel Tower, with me. You're here as Damian, not Robin. You're not fighting crime and the Heretic isn't here. That happened a long time ago, it isn't happening now. You're safe, okay?"

An exhale escaped his lips. "I'm safe"

The blue-eyed girl nodded. "You're safe" she reiterated.

Placing his hand on hers, Damian brought it towards his lips, kissing the inside of her palm before laying it back to where it was situated originally. His eyes closed as he basked in the few moments of silence between the two of them. A whisper of thanks was given to the bluenette was he had opened them once again.

"Dami, you don't have to thank me" Marinette gently scoffed, "I didn't want you to go through with the pain that memory held"

"But I ought to, and perhaps I should show gratitude more often", the green-eyed boy shook his head lightly, "Except that's not all I wish to thank you for. I really should say thank you, for being able to show me affection despite being a shit of a person"

"Damian you're not-"

"I'm a horrible person, Marinette," Damian interrupted his girlfriend, if she wanted to stay committed, he felt it was only fair to tell her just exactly what she was getting into. "I've done dreadful things to others, I-"

"Damian", Staring into his eyes, the bluenette spoke again. "Do you regret what you've done?"

He blinked. "Of course, every single day"

"Do you understand what you did was wrong?"

Where was she going with this? "Yes, I do"

Her stare grew fiercer before she asked her final question, "Will you ever do those things again?"

Eyes wide, his face portrayed an emotion of pure bafflement. "Dear god no! Never in a millennia."

"Then you're not a bad person", Marinette brought her other hand to cup his face, a solace smile gracing her features. "We're all human, we're not born with perfection, we all make mistakes. How we choose to act on those mistakes, however, defines us as a person."

Though his vision was blurring, the bluenette's image never faulted, her adoring expression remained clear of Damian to see.

"Admitting to your vulnerabilities is the bravest thing anyone can do. Thank you, Damian". Slowly, she lifted her body onto her toes, placing a chaste kiss onto his lips. He responded immediately, pulling Marinette closer. Once they separated, Damian pressed his forehead against hers, his hands on her hips, savouring the moment by keeping his eyes shut. If this were all a dream then his mind would've been so cruel. Luckily, this was reality.

"No, thank you Malaki", his expression only showing pure relief and thankfulness as he opened his eyes. "Merci du fond du coeur"

A soothing silence basked between the two lovers, both unintentionally swaying like they were weightless as the cold zephyrs breezed through the Eiffel Tower. The two kwamis didn't dare disturb the serene aura their owners were emitting, it was similar to that of the flaming ocean waves, each sensation just as relaxed as the one before.

"Dami," Marinette's voice cut through the stillness, Damian's eyes opened to look at her. "Why don't you and I go for a dîner aux chandelles?"

"Alright but I'll be the one to pay after all, you paid at our first meeting", The small smile on face disappeared. "My apologies for unloading my 'tragic past' onto you, and for getting emotional about it too".

"It's only normal when you're discussing something sensitive, even more so when you aren't used to talking about it", Marinette pecked him on the lips once more. "So where should we go eat?".

Damian let out a sigh of relief. "I noticed a restaurant on our way here, would you like to go there?"

"I'd love to"

~~~

Dinner, despite the heavy-hitting conversation before hand, was lovely. The food was delicious, a romantic ambiance and best of all, it was with Damian. A dopey smile creeped onto Marinette's face as she flopped onto her bed.

"Tikki?", the bluenette asked her red kwami after getting settled in her pajamas. "What do you know about the Lazarus Pits?".

Tikki sighed and floated up to sit next to Mari. "Well, Marinette, the Lazarus Pits are naturally occurring phenomenons in the world thanks to the magic that lingered around when the world was still very young. Our first owners stumbled upon one by accident. The monks at the temple allowed Plagg to use his cataclysm on the Pit after learning about its capabilities. But the world is ruled by balance and another one appeared in now-Switzerland to take the place of the one Plagg destroyed. Since then, the monks did more research and found that the Pits could only be destroyed through a natural incident."

"I see...", Marinette placed a finger on her chin. "What can the Lazarus Pits do?".

"It can heal wounds and even grant the user immortality, but the person will gain some unwanted side effects. However if a healthy person were to use it, they would perish. It can easily be exploited and the monks knew this, that's why they desperately tried to get demolish the Pits". Tikki said, her voice filled with wisdom and fret, showing her obvious distress once realising the Lazarus Pits were still actively used.

"Do...do you think it was used to bring Damian back? I mean, according to what he said, his brother used it and he had some kind of side effect".

Tikki hummed. "Considering that his brother is probably still a vigilante, perhaps the only effect he gained is anger issues or something similar. About Damian, I talked to Plagg and he said that his owner does have the Pit aura. Except, it isn't strong enough to signify that he was resurrected, merely exposed to it."

The blue-eyed girl sighed as she pulled the bed covers over her legs. "That's good, I wonder how he was brought back though", she thought out loud.

Just as the ladybug kwami was about to get comfortable, Marinette's phone chimed. Climbing down the ladder, she made her way to her wooden desk and picked up her device.

Dami: Goodnight, Angel

The dopey, lovesick smile appeared once more.

Me: Goodnight, Dami

Marinette climbed back into bed, kissed her two fingers and placed them on Tikki's head. She pulled the blanket over her and wished Tikki a good night's rest.

~~~

The next day arrived quicker than expected. Marinette had, surprisingly, arrived on time. Other than the odd lie from Lila, the rest of the school day was normal, and it couldn't have gone any slower. The lessons dragged on for hours, even lunch felt like a full century. Marinette was glad when the final bell eventually rang.

"What will you guys get up to over the weekend?", Adrien asked the moment they had left the classroom.

"Mommy is taking me to see a private fashion show, she has a suspicion that MDC will be there. I, however, believe that the infamous designer will not be there", Chloe sent a knowing glance towards Marinette's direction, inciting a round of giggles at the inside joke.

"Actually," a voice piped up from behind them. "MDC told me that he wouldn't be able to make it to that show, he's out of the country right now".

"That's lovely, Lila", Marinette said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile on her face.

"Lila, you know MDC?", Sabrina butted in after hearing the topic of the conversation. "Tell us!"

"Well, MDC is a very private person. I met him when I was young and I think he might have a crush on me bu...,"Marinette let Lila's voice disappear as the brunette walked away. As Alya was about to voice her opinion on what just happened, Marinette got a text message from Damian.

"I gotta go, see you guys soon!," a chorus of 'goodbye's were heard as Marinette left the school's general vicinity. Damian said he was at the Jardins du Trocadéro. Soon enough she arrived. Taking a long glance at her surroundings, Marinette didn't see the familiar figure she'd fallen for. Before she could pull out her phone, a pair of arms wrapped around her in a comforting hug. Marinette went into a fit of giggles before turning to the black-haired boy around her. "Hey, Dami."

"Hello, Angel", Damian cut the hug shirt and settled with intertwining their hands together. "I believe you suggested that we should have an outing looking for that ice cream vendor, André if I'm not mistaken. Shall we go?"

The blue-haired girl beamed at her boyfriend. "Yeah, let's go! He's usually at the Pont des Arts but if he isn't today we'll just have to find him, that's what makes it fun of course!"

The two ambled at a fast pace, Marinette leading the way, while in conversation. Eventually they arrived at the André's ice cream cart. "Ah hello, Marinette! I see you have someone with you today!", André cheerily welcomed the two to his stall, unsurprised that Marinette didn't arrive alone.

"Hello to you too André! This is my boyfriend Damian, could we get some ice cream please?", Damian nodded in greeting and the ice cream vendor waved before getting them some ice cream.

"Blue moon for her eyes and dark lime for his!" André handed the cone to Mari before noticing the green-eyed boy reaching for his wallet. "No need young man, it's on the house."

"Oh, much appreciated." Marinette waved goodbye to the ice cream vendor before she and Damian walked down the Pont des Arts. There was a comforting silence between them as they shared their ice cream. Upon reaching the end of the bridge, the two sat on the edge of the platform, their feet dangling over the Seine below.

"Why don't we go back to the Jardins du Trocadéro?", Marinette suggested. "It was quiet when I went there earlier."

"Alright then." Damian got up and held his hand out, the blue-eyed girl gracefully took it as she rose onto her feet once more.

Along the way, the ice cream ran out, and the two lovers were conversing once more, talking about anything and everything. They soon reached the gardens yet again. After a while of roaming around the tourist attraction, a flower bush caught Marinette's attention.

"Dami, look!", Marinette plucked one of the ivory-white flowers, twirling it between her her fingers. "Isn't it pretty?"

Damian hummed as he took the offered flower. "Pour moi, c'est toi la plus belle", as he said those words, he brush a few strands of hair out of Marinette's face and placed the small blossom into her hair. A flush creeped across her face before a grimace took its place, so quickly that Damian thought he imagined the blush on her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

She chuckled but there was no humor in it. "It's just, I know we only recently met but I felt like I've known you for much longer. And I know this seems selfish for me to say but I...", Marinette blinked as she looked back up to her boyfriend. "Je ne supporte pas d'être loin de toi..."

Damian's gaze softened as he took Marinette's face into his palms. "I don't want to leave you either, but we will meet again physically. I know we will, it may just take time."

"Then... I'm willing to wait," Damian placed a kiss on her forehead. "It's getting late, we should go back."

He raised one of his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Marinette looked confused. "What do you mean I-", he watched with amusement as she pieced it together. "Oh my overnight bag! Let's go get it shall we?"

Damian stifled a chuckle as he let his girlfriend drag him along once more.

~~~

Afternoon faded to evening and evening faded to night. Marinette had retrieved her belongings from her house and had brought them to Damian's hotel room. Currently, they were both sitting in their pajamas, indulging in the deserts they had ordered after their dinner was digested while watching a movie. Tikki and Plagg were sitting on a cushion, Marinette was leaning on Damian as she licked the remaining sweetness off her spoon. Then she yawned.

"Shall we retire for the night?", Damian's amusement was very clear, Marinette scoffed. "It is getting late".

"Alright, I'll go brush my teeth now", the bluenette got up and made her way to the bathroom, Plagg following close behind. Damian didn't try to eavesdrop, but he still managed to hear a snippet of their conversation.

"Well you didn't complain so obviously you want to sleep with lover boy"

"I... just hand over the toothpaste, Plagg"

Damian chuckled as he got up, he had brushed his teeth earlier. He closed the curtains as Marinette left the bathroom, she turned off the television before giving Plagg and Tikki a cushion to sleep on. Marinette then crawled into bed, wrapping the covers around her. Damian bid the kwamis good night before joining Marinette on the mattress. He moved so that her back was resting on his chest. "Goodnight, Angel"

"Goodnight, Dami"

~~~

Damian was a light sleeper so when his phone started ringing, he woke up almost immediately. It was the ungodly hour of 1am according to the digital clock that sat innocently on the beside table. He slowly rolled over as to not disturb his sleeping girlfriend and was nearly blinded by the bright light that emitted from his screen. "Damn phone", he whispered. Once his eyes adjusted, Damian saw the caller ID. "Tt, what is it, Kent."

"I just wanted to check in on my best friend, how are you there? Oh, and how's your girlfriend?", from the tone of his voice, Jon didn't seem to realise what time it was in France.

"We're fine, did you forget about the time difference perhaps?", Damian tried to keep his voice low, even more so when Marinette had shifted in her sleep so that she was laying on top of him.

"Time difference? What ti-", Damian heard silence before Jon spoke up again, he let out a nervous chuckle. "Oops I might've forgot, have a good rest of the night!"

"You too, Jon", he disconnected the call before Jon could say anything else.

"Did Jon call you?", Marinette's sleepy voice caught Damian by surprise.

"Yes he did," Damian placed his phone back on the beside table, making sure it was on silent this time, before pulling Mari closer. "My apologies, did I wake you?"

He felt her shake her head, her face resting against his chest. "Nightmare," she mumbled.

"Do you wish to talk about it?".

"It was just the Guerrier incident, except I saw you there too"

"You saw me?" He felt her nod. They rested in silence until Damian hummed. "Je t'adore, tu sais?"

The bluenette audibly smiled before replying. "Je sais, mais j'aime quand tu le dis." He saw her look over at the clock. "It's too early, let's go back to sleep."

Damian shifted so that they were both comfortable, both had arms wrapped around the other and fell swiftly into slumber.

~~~

The soft golden rays of the sun heated Marinette's face, waking her. Stretching, she turned to Damian who was also beginning to stir. "Morning!", she chirped.

Damian rubbed his eyes. "Good morning," he said groggily, his voice deeper than usual. Before Damian could do anything else, Marinette turned pink and her hands were in his hair, making it messier than it already was.

"How do you wake up looking like an Adonis? Are you trying to kill me?", Marinette's words made Damian redden slightly.

"Alright wake up sleepyheads! I want my cheeeeeeese!", Plagg flew up to the two, complaining about his hunger. Marinette shook her head while the black kwami flew into Damian's now-combed hair.

"Is food all you ever think about?", Tikki said as she floated up to Plagg.

"I can't help it Sugar Cube!", Damian playful rolled his eyes at his kwami while Marinette giggled at their dynamic.

"You'll get some food once we get ready, Plagg." Marinette took her clothes from her bag and went into the bathroom. In the meantime Damian got himself changed, he was already finished by the time Marinette left the restroom. "Alright, we can go now."

The restaurant was almost fully accommodated by the time they arrived, but they got a table nonetheless. Once they were finished with their breakfast, Marinette and Damian arrived back at the hotel room, Marinette took a quick trip home to drop off her belongings and to freshen up. After her return, the blue-eyed girl helped Damian pack. She made sure that there was nothing amiss. Soon, everything from his gifts to his katana were all packed. Marinette looked at the sky through the window.

"Looks like there's going to be some rain today," she murmured, Damian moved to stand next to her. The sky was grey and the clouds appeared heavy with rain.

"Indeed it does," Marinette rested her head upon his upper arm, Damian rested his head on hers. It remained that way for a few moments before the hotel phone started ringing. Damian had answered the call, he ended it not long after. "It's the front desk, they have transportation ready." Marinette nodded and opened the door as Damian gathered his belongings.

Tikki zipped into the bluenette's purse while Plagg went in Damian's pocket. After taking one more look around in case the green-eyed boy had forgetter anything, Marinette closed the hotel door behind her as Damian called the lift. The doors opened, they stepped inside, the doors shut before opening again. This time they arrived on the ground floor. Marinette waited by the entrance as Damian finalised the check out. When he was finished, they both went outside and entered the taxi waiting, Damian had put his luggage in the trunk with ease. Marinette stared out the window as the entrance to the hotel drew further and further away.

Sighing, Marinette rested her head on Damian's shoulder. She noticed his had was tensed up so she intertwined them with her own, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. The ride seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, the entrance of the airport appeared out of no where. The doors in the taxi opened, Damian stepped outside, holding his hand for Mari. Standing on the pavement, the bluenette helped him get his luggage. After paying the driver, Marinette walked him to the entrance.

"Tu vas me manquer," Damian whispered. Marinette's glossy eyes met his, nodded her head as if afraid to say a single word without letting the tears threatening to fall run down. "But we will meet again soon."

"J'ai hâte," Marinette murmured back. "Bon voyage, mon petite oiseau." Damian gave her a kiss, but Marinette made it last longer. She held his hands in hers, liront all her feelings in this form of affection. When they parted, there were no words said, their eyes told all.

"Bientôt je vous promets, mon ange," Damian pressed a final kiss on her forehead and turned to leave, not without a final look over his shoulder. Mustering a sad smile, Marinette waved goodbye. The sad smile was mirrored on Damian's own face. And then he drowned into the sea of people.

Her hand slowly opened to reveal the Black Cat miraculous that Damian had managed to return during their final embrace. She fingers clutched around the ring and her fist returned to her side. Drip. A drop of rain landed on her nose, sending a chill down her spine. She let another fall before getting her umbrella.

At least the universe was able to give her this gift. At least she knew she would see Damian again. At least the rain could let her cry.

At least.

•———•

Ça te va super bien - It suits you very well

Merci du fond du coeur - Thanks from the bottom of my heart

dîner aux chandelles - Candlelit dinner

Pour moi, c'est toi la plus belle - To me, you are the prettiest

Je ne supporte pas d'être loin de toi - I cannot bear to be far from you

Je t'adore, tu sais? - I like you very much, do you know it?

Je sais, mais j'aime quand tu le dis - I know, but I like when you say it

Tu vas me manquer - I'm going to miss you

J'ai hâte - I can't wait

Bon voyage, mon petite oiseau - Have a good trip, my little bird

Bientôt je vous promets, mon ange - Soon I promise you, my angel

———

Taglist:@little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn,@mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot,@toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin,@weebjai1

[wellbafineline]

Promise?

Harry is needy and you visit him on tour

hellooo this is my entry for ms olivias ( @bfharry ​ ) boyfriendathon, im not entirely sure that anything happens in this but it is just reuniting w harry on tour fluff!!! i used the promt ‘harry’s number 1 groupie is his gf’ & this is my second full fic so pls be nice to me lol but enjoy!!  also here is my other writing 

also the title honestly has nothing to do with the piece i just picked it bc i though that line of dialogue was cute.

& heres livs boyfriendathon masterlist to read everyones entries!!

It didn't take much convincing for Harry to get you to join him on tour, actually all it’d taken was him to call you after one of his first shows on the North American leg telling you how much he missed you, and how lonely his hotel rooms felt and a couple of days later Jeff was forwarding you the plane tickets and info to meet them in Sacramento for a week of the tour.

It wasn't strange for you to visit harry on tour, but you both normally lasted a few more weeks before you caved and took the week off to go visit him, but a particularly needy harry and late night phone call with him listing all the ways he missed you, even after just a week and a half of being a part was all it took for you to take the 14 hour flight from London. 

You were antsy to see him from the minute that you got in the car at the airport, but it was only increasing as you were walking with a security guard through the corridors of the arena. The security guard points you in the direction of Harry's dressing room as you turn the last corner. You could hear Harry's playlist playing quietly behind the door as you approached and knocked. ‘Jeffrey, said i just need ten minutes and i'd be there’ he shouted through the door ‘try again’ you laughed ‘not Jeffrey’ 

The door quickly flung open as soon as he heard your voice, immediately wrapping you in his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, and you both stayed like that for a minute before he started to squeeze you a bit too tightly. ‘Getting a bit hard to breathe here H’. ‘sorry love’ he loosened his arms a little around you, allowing him to look at you for a second before completely freeing you from his grasp, you looked tired from the long flight from London and your hair was a little wild because you hadn't had the chance to brush it in the rush from the airport to the venue he place a quick kiss on your forehead before letting you go to follow him into the dressing room to get settled.

There was probably an hour before the preparations for the show tonight really started, meaning Lambert would come with the rack of all of Harry's outfits and steal him away from you for him to get dressed and prep to perform but for now you were more than content with the position you were in. Harry had come back from soundcheck earlier and immediately lay on top of you wrapping his arms around your waist and his face pressed into your neck, while your hands were stroking through his brown curls while he sighed contentedly every so often. 

You two stayed like that for the time being until people started to filter in the dressing room and asking for Harry’s attention to put the final details on the show and his outfit for tonight. You gave his hand a squeeze getting his attention to tell him you were going to find Mitch, Sarah and Adam and leave him to get ready for the show. 

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.　      

The next time you saw Harry was as people were gathering to send him off onto the stage, you could hear the crowd cheering as the venue lights dimmed. ‘Come ‘ere quick’ he said as he pulled you by your hand into his chest ‘Need m’ good luck kiss’ he had the biggest cheesy grin on his face, you couldn't help but indulge him and match his smile. You bring your hand to cup his jaw, giving him a sweet kiss, but quickly pulling away, because you knew Harry and knew how he'd turn your good luck kisses into ‘make out in the venue hallway’ kisses, and you’d had enough teasing from Jeff about that over the years you’d been together. 

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.　      

You’d made your way back to the dressing room ‘Ew! H you’re all sweaty’ you laughed as his arms tightened around your waist, clearly not listening to your complaints. ‘Missed this though didn’t y’.’ His voice is murmured in your hair with his arms still wrapped around your waist, but loosening so you could walk back for him to pack up and go back to your hotel, he’d said earlier that he wanted ‘his girl all to himself’ on your first night which you couldn't really argue with, being exhausted from the flight. 

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.

You were waiting on the plush hotel bed scrolling through your phone, checking social media while you’re waiting for Harry to get out of the shower, he was bound to be exhausted once his post show adrenaline wore off and he said he just wanted to take a quick shower to get clean, but now you were almost certain he’d fallen a sleep under the water.

The shower water turning off is what pulls your attention away from your phone, as you were in the middle of texting back your best friend who was checking that you got there safely. After a moment harry comes out of the bathroom, he was tying the belt of one of the hotel robes as he makes his way over and flops himself on the bed next to you, motioning for you to move over so you were both lying on his side of the bed, your head on his shoulder, and moving the few pieces of wet hair he missed in his hair clip off of his face. 

‘M tired, glad we didn't go out now would have been asleep in the middle of some bar by now’ he murmured into your hair ‘Yeah, better off here’ you agreed, moving so that your leg was thrown over his hip and arm across his middle. 

After a while of laying with each other he started to get restless, still some pent up adrenaline from the show, so you suggest doing the sheet masks you picked up in the airport earlier.  

‘Y’sure your not tired? can do all of this tomorrow?.’ His arms tightened around your waist where you were sat on the bathroom counter putting the facemask on Harry's face. He scrunched up his face as you smoothed out the cold material on his face ‘M’fine just wanna spend some time with you.’ 

A little while after you had finished your facemasks Harry had decided he was hungry, finally crashing from his post show adrenaline and wanting to devour a bowl of fries from room service there was a knock on the door as you reached to put on the next episode of the show that you guys were watching. 

‘it'll be food, I'll get it’ Harry mumbled as he pushed himself up off of the bed to get the door, grabbing his wallet on the way to tip the waiter. He returned a minute later with the tray of food you ordered, setting it down on the bed. 

‘Missed you y’know’ harry starts as you put another chip in your mouth

‘Missed you two H, was only two and a half weeks though’ Harry scoffs ‘What not allowed to miss m’ own girlfriend now?’ You were already laughing as he finished, picking up  a chip to throw at him across the bed. ‘Course not, like knowing you miss me’ you smile at him ‘always love.’ 

After finishing your food Harry’d moved you both back to lay in the bed with his head resting on your chest, his eyes fluttering shut every so often, he was clearly trying to stay awake. ‘S’alright H go to sleep, will still be here tomorrow, got me all week’ you told him, lips pressing a kiss to his hairline as you reached to turn off the TV so you both could get some needed sleep.

‘Y’promise?’

‘Promise.’

[starrypawz]

For the ns*w asks! Gerry/Nemo and... 22? 🥺🙏

22. after a near death experience

ALSO ON AO3

It doesn’t happen the night of.

Both of them are still too shaken up, final dregs of adrenaline wearing off to leave bone gnawing fatigue. Too wound tight to do nothing than get behind closed doors, spend far too long in the shower, and then cling to each other throughout the night and hope for dreamless sleep.

The next morning is normal.

It’s almost insulting witnessing the day begin as if everything is fine and that Nemo Ainsley and Gerard Keay hadn’t had a brush yet again with a particularly intense manifestation of primal horror and this particular brush had been too close for both of their tastes.

Nemo stirs first, to the sound of birdsong and the rattle of a bin lorry (shit, forgot it was bin day). Early morning sunlight filters through a few pin hole pricks in the blind and they blearily stare at the clock on the bedside table.

Early, too early. Too fucking early.

They almost died the night before, but no today it’s as if nothing happened, it’s too fucking early, there’s sunlight trying to get into the room, there’s birdsong and rattling bin lorries. And Nemo does have to wonder briefly if anyone out there really has any clue how close they are to meeting a grisly fate on a regular basis.

Gerry shifts in his sleep, lets out a little concerned sleepy sound and an arm reaches out, seeking Nemo out. Nemo settles back down, tucks into his side and tries to sleep through this insulting normal morning.

It’s not long until they feel Gerry stir, pull them in closer and Nemo clings to his shirt a little more and buries their face into his chest. Feels the gentle rumble as he mumbles, “It’s morning-” “Mhmm-”

“It’s morning,” Gerry repeats, a little louder.

“I know,” Nemo nuzzles the soft fabric of his shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of his Nemo feels the rumble of a chuckle, “Bloody hell it’s morning,” and pulls Nemo close to him before he gently moves, rolls, long body pressed against Nemo’s.

Nemo can feel the warmth of his body pressed against him, always warm, sometimes too warm but right now that is just what they need. Needs the warmth and the weight slightly pressing Nemo into the mattress.

“I know,” Nemo grins back. Let’s their fingers slide up to cup his face, Gerry takes a moment to press his forehead to theirs before Nemo’s fingers disappear into soft, dark hair, Gerry leans into the touch, lets Nemo’s nails run gently over his scalp.

Gerry’s lips meet the tip of their nose, corner of their mouth and then on the lips. And then again, and then there’s the flick of his tongue against Nemo’s bottom lip, and again a little harder. Today it’s gentle, a question. Which Nemo answers by opening their mouth and letting their tongue slip into his.

Gerry pushes them into the mattress a little more as he kisses. Little kisses at first, slow, gentle. Less the usual teasing Nemo tends to expect from him even as the kisses deepen. Nemo’s content to let him take his time, and let their fingers wind through his hair. His kisses shift, going from lips to wherever he can reach on Nemo’s neck. Those kisses start sending little flutters that make Nemo tense up their thighs.

He pulls back eventually, smile soft and that gives Nemo another little flutter, but this time it’s the pesky fluttering of their heart which at times is a lot harder to deal with than other places.

“You seem happy,” Nemo teases

“I mean, the fact we didn’t die last night helps-” “Helps?” He grins, this one a little more impish, “Waking up to you really helps-”

Nemo groans playfully and Gerry rubs his nose against theirs, Nemo’s hands leave his hair and settle around his shoulders.

“So are we just cuddling this morning or?”

Gerry kisses Nemo again, catches their lip this time and Nemo grins into it, “I mean ‘we didn’t die last night cuddles sound good,’” He catches their lip again, harder.

“But?”

“If you want I can at least go down on you,”

“At least?” Nemo grins

“Mhmm,” Gerry’s grin is slow and playful as he nibbles at their lip. Rolls his hips against Nemo’s and Nemo can feel him half hard against them as he ruts a little harder.

“Use your words,” Nemo tuts and pokes his nose

“Ok fine…” He pouts for a moment, “I can go down on you and then if you want.” he pauses and reaches out to run his thumb over Nemo’s lip. “Fuck you into the mattress?” A kiss, “Let you ride me?” A kiss with a bite that makes Nemo squirm, “Could bend you over, let you grip the headboard and-” “Gerry!” Nemo squirms their mind running wild.

“I’m doing what you told me,” He smirks.

“Brat,” Nemo huffs, reaches up and grabs a lock of dark hair and tugs, hard. And chuckles as he moans and Nemo’s pulled into a painfully soft kiss.

“So?” He sighs and playfully flicks his tongue against the tip of Nemo’s nose.

“Hurry up and fuck me already,” Gerry chuckles, gives a slow roll of his hips against Nemo again and then rolls to the side. Grabs the waistband of Nemo’s shorts and edges them down and they’re discarded somewhere around the foot of the bed. Moves again to kneel in front of Nemo, let’s his hands slowly trace up to their thighs and pulls a little, Nemo eagerly parts their legs in a way that makes him twitch, he lingers on the soft, warm skin of their thighs for a little before a finger runs along from entrance to clit, fingers lightly

“I thought you were eating me out,” Nemo squirms, one hand grabbing the bedsheets.

“I’m getting to that, be patient,” Gerry tuts and then looks up with a smirk, “Little ghost,”

Nemo feels their cheeks redden even in their aroused state at the endearment and resists the urge to shove their face under a pillow.

Gerry’s fingers as always slide in slow, two fingers easily slipping into warm flesh and he lets out a pleased little noise as he starts to work, leaning forward to plant the occasional kiss on Nemo’s lips. Settles into a slow, deep rhythm that he knows could bring Nemo over the edge very quickly if he wanted that.

Not really, not this morning he wants to linger a little and bask in the middle finger they both threw up to The Slaughter last night and likely The End in general. He sets his pace slow, grins as Nemo squirms just from running his fingers just next to their clit and occasionally teasing their entrance with the promise of a finger or two. Nemo swears at him once and it’s music to his ears.

Gerry catches the bedside clock then grins.

“Wow, it’s early enough we could go out for breakfast afterwards and it would still be… normal people breakfast time-”

“You know what I want, a double sausage and egg McMuffin-” Nemo’s brain switches to the fact a lot of the time food is a much more enticing pursuit than sex. Or at least has been for the most part before they got mixed up with Gerry.

Gerry laughs “McDonald’s really?”

“What? We nearly died, I want a fucking McMuffin.”

“A mcfuckin,” Gerry wheezes. His rhythm thrown off for the moment.

Nemo snorts and swats the top of his head.

“I mean unless you have another idea,” Gerry pauses for a moment, runs through a few options, in his head of other places they could go and then,“Actually,McDonald’s doesn’t sound that bad,” And grins, “We’ll make the most of ‘we didn’t die last night sex’ and then on my honour we’ll find you the best double sausage and egg McMuffin in at least this borough,”

Nemo snorts, shudders a little as he curves his fingers to make them squirm. “Mmm, also I think us not dying means I get to bend you over later,” “Oh?”

Nemo bites their lip as his thumb rubs at their clit. Their hands sliding under their shirt to tease their nipples.

“I mean we do have that new dildo to try out,” Nemo grins, and their brain wanders to all sorts of fun thoughts about just how they’ll give their fellow Goth some much needed payback. That and the work of Gerry’s fingers making them squirm. “We do,” Gerry grins, fingers curving again and the way that Nemo easily takes a third finger makes him rock his hips against the bed. “So?”

Gerry grins, letting his fingers slowly play over warm, wet flesh,“We’ll make the most of ‘We didn’t die last night sex’ then on my honour we’ll find you the best double sausage and egg McMuffin at least in this borough and then tonight you can bend me over and do your worst with that new dildo-”

“Promise?” “I’m a Goth of my word,” “I’m holding you to it, especially about breakfast,”

“I swear,” He pulls out his slick fingers, and lies on his back, “Now please come sit on my face?”

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

A Prince’s Room

Part 2

Concept by @yeet-ceit

TW: Unsympathetic Sides (Except for Roman), Perfectionism, Self-Doubt, Cursing, Arguing, Injury? (Roman gets slapped). If I missed any, pleased tell me and I will add it.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1807

Roman wants to be perfect. No, he needs to be perfect. And part of being perfect is being a good friend. Roman loves the other sides. He loves them more than anything in the world. Even more than Disney and musical theater. His friends are the main reason why his still holding on. He doesn’t want to lose them. He can’t lose them. He won’t survive if he does.

So, to make sure he doesn’t he takes notes. He writes down ways to make sure he’s constantly improving. Any bad habits that the others point out or flaws he writes down and tries to fix. 

The lists went on and on. Hung up on the walls of his room to make sure he always remembers. And as time goes on, more and more is added to the list. Every small addition getting him one step closer to perfection.

Remember to keep your voice level normal. Don’t talk too loudly.

Stop being so dramatic, you're taking too much attention away from the others.

Don’t be too confident, it comes off as cocky and no one like someone that’s too cocky.

Don’t rant about your interest for too long it gets annoying and boring.

Don’t be selfish, no one likes a selfish person.

....................

The chart came along a few months later. 

Roman had already been taking notes on how to please his friends however he decided to reorganize his notes into a chart. Each side had their own section containing list of what they liked, disliked, what cheered them up, and what upsets them.

Logan

Likes: Crofters, astrology, coffee, books, teaching, silence, human anatomy, schedules, deadlines, Thomas being productive, debating, constellations, being listened to, law, learning, classical music, poetry, Sherlock.

Dislikes: Being ignored, unnecessary emotions, sweets, dumb people, someone being too loud, childish movies, games, being behind schedule, illogical decisions, jokes, unrealistic dreams.

What makes him happy?: Stargazing, writing, meeting deadlines, winning debates, telling random facts, rapping, his onesie, reading, being left alone, being called cool, teaching.

What upsets him?: Being treated as a joke, being teased, being reminded of his mistakes, making mistakes, being ignored or overlooked, losing a debate, feeling dumb.

Patton

Likes: Cookies, drawing, cure animals, compliments, happy songs, seeing his friends happy, t.v shows, helping others, singing, dancing, playing dress up, stuffed animals, gifts, holidays, baking, sweets.

Dislikes: Screaming, loud noises, getting stuff thrown at him, blood, weapons, violence, seeing his friends injured, sad movies and stories.

What makes him happy?: Cuddles, movie nights, being showered with affection, cookies, drawing, karaoke nights, talking about his emotions, playing games with his friends, helping others, his onesie. 

What upsets him?: Seeing an animal die, seeing people in pain, being forced to grow up, seeing his friends in hurt, not being able to help someone, disappointing someone, letting Thomas down, letting his emotions control him.

Virgil

Likes: Candles, alternative music, spiders, his hoodie, Tim Burton films, My Chemical Romance, headphones, fidget cubes, staying up late, drama shows, bats, knives, collecting pins.  

Dislikes: The ocean, sudden loud noises, cheesy pop music, people that are too optimistic (except for Patton), someone being mean to his friends,

What makes him happy?: Doing makeup, painting his nails, listening to music, Patton’s baking, playing with his pet spider, meditating, watching murder myterious, watching Disney and Tim Burton movies.

What upsets him?: Being put on the spot, being called evil, being treated like an innocent kid, being called a darkside, being called a disorder rejection, talk about serious topics such as suicide and self harm. 

Remus

Likes: Gore, blood, mud, fighting, collecting weapons, deodorant, musicals, inappropriate jokes, Fleischer Studios, pranks, dancing, mythical creatures, things that glow in the dark, random t.v shows, horror movie, slime, candy, octopus, skirts, crop tops.

Dislikes: Cheesy love songs, rules, normal food aside from fast food, birds, learning, shaving, reading, romance movies/shows, backstabbers, lying, shaving cream, showers, losing fights.

What makes him happy?: Dissecting stuff, fighting, pranking others, dancing, singing, coming up with outfit ideas, punching stuff, playing with slime, reenacting horror movies, inappropriate jokes, hanging out in his trash can, being pet, Shrek, eating deodorant, someone doing his makeup.

What upsets him?: Being abandoned or left behind, being told he isn’t good enough, being compared to me, seeing Janus upset, seeing Virgil upset, being told to shave.

Janus

Like: Snakes, philosophy, Greek mythology, sewing, horror movies, mystery books, murder documentaries, self care, sleeping, warm baths, weighted blankets, debating, law.

Dislikes: The cold, when someone takes his hat, dumb comedy movies, eagles, action movies, unnecessary violence or gore, close minded people, liars, sharing secrets, being vulnerable. 

What makes hims happy?: Massages, weighted blankets, cuddling, hanging out with Remus, acting, having debates, seeing Remus and Virgil playfully argue, watching murder mysteries, singing.

What upsets him?: Being called evil, being ignored, seeing Remus or Virgil upset, Thomas not taking care of himself, being replaced, being left behind, people not understanding him, someone making fun of his scales, taking off his gloves.

....................

“Come on pussy! Let’s just march into his room, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Language!” Patton quickly scolds Remus.

“What if he’s in there and he screams at us for barging in?! What if he gets really mad and chooses to get physical!? What if we see something we don’t want to!? What if he’s asleep and he get mad that we woke him up!? What if-”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupts the panicking side, “Your anxiety is causing you to catastrophize. Please, take a deep breath and try to filter out your cognitive distortion.”

The anxious side nods and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“Now, I would like to add that I personally believe that Remus’ plan isn’t the worst idea ever and is currently the best one we have.” The logical side states.

“Well, while I love to agree with Remus, he is wrong in this instance,” 

Remus smirks widely, “Awe! Thanks Jany~ You’re too generous~”

The deceitful side rolls his eyes, “Let’s just go.”

“Fine,” Virgil stands up, looking rather done with everything.

The rest of the sides stand up as well and begin to make their way to the prince’s room.

Once they make it to his door, Remus immediately just breaks the door down and lets himself in.

“Surprise!”

 They walk in, greeted only by silence.

“He isn’t here?” Patton mumbles to himself.

“Doesn’t look like it. Let’s not go then.”

The other sides nod and start making their way out. Well, everyone except for Logan. 

The logical side instead gets distracted by a paper stabled to the wall. He walks over to it and reads it to himself. Once he’s done reading his looks around the room and notices all the papers on the wall. As well, as the lack of theater and Disney merchandise.

“Wait, doesn't Roman’s room look,” He pauses to search for the right words, “Wrong?”

The other sides stop walking and looks around.

“Now that you mention it,” Remus mumbles, “His room has changed a lot since I last saw it...”

The other start reading through the endless papers of tips to improve himself and advice. 

Suddenly Patton stops in front of a chart titled “Duties”

He slowly goes over it and buy the time he is done he is fuming with rage.

“What the hell!? Guys come look at this!”

The others go over, slightly amused and concerned.

Each of them take turns analyzing the chart. 

Roman had spend his day at the Imagination. After the whole wedding accident, he’s been stuck in a very toxic place and well he thought a small guest might help. So, he left early in the morning and began his guest. He hadn’t meant to stay there for as long as he did but he lost track of time. 

“Kiddo, we have a lot to talk about,” Patton mumbles in a passive aggressive tone.

....................

As the tired side starts approaching his room, he notices that all the either sides are gathered outside his room. Once he’s a bit closer, Virgil is the first to notice him. To his shock though, Virgil rushes to him and slaps him

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

Roman stands there shocked for a few minutes before looking at Patton, expecting to hear him scold Virgil. Instead however, Patton just look away from him.

“ANSWER ME!”

“I-...” Roman bites his lip to hold back the tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t understand... W-what did I do....?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!?”

The prince-like-side flinches and looks down.

Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, "Let me handle this.”

For some reason, Roman thought that Remus would be on his side. He thought that if anyone understood what he was trying to do, it would be his brother. Or that his brother would at least explain what happened and let him tell his part of the story.

So, he looked up with a hopeful expression. 

“Don’t look at me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you!? If you think we were such a hassle then why did you stay friends with us!?”

Any hope that Roman had immediately leaves his body, “I-I... I never said that! Where is this coming?!”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, ROMAN!” Remus summons his morning star, “WE SAW THE FUCKING CHART! SO, WHAT!? WE’RE NOTHING MORE THAN “DUTIES” TO YOU!?” 

The usual confident side is now frozen in shock. They weren’t supposed to see that chart. They weren’t supposed to see his room at all. If Roman was being honest, he could understand why they took the chart the wrong way. The name of it wasn’t exactly the best but it was all he could think of while actually making it. Now though, he wished he would have pushed himself to think of a better name.

“N-No! You got it all wrong!” He is now crying, flinching away from his brother, “I was just trying to make you guys happy!”

Remus scoffs and puts his weapon away. He walks away from Roman and returns to Janus’ side.

“Whatever, Roman.”

His knees give out and he falls to the floor in defeat.

“I would greatly appreciate if you keep your distance from Patton and I from now on. If you fail to do so, I can’t exactly guarantee that I will be nice. Goodbye Roman.”

“Fucking pussy.” Remus throws out.

And just like that Logan sinks down with a crying Patton.

“And I thought I was the snake,” Janus adds, looking at him in pure disgust.

Then, they’re gone.

For a few seconds Virgil stares at the broken prince in front of him.

“You really are an idiot.”

He looks away from him and sinks down with a scoff leaving the weeping prince on the floor. 

Alone.

....................

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Captain My Own Way

request: Can you do a Sawamura Daichi imagine where he’s dating the captain of the debate team and she’s having a hard time with her vice captain who thinks she only got the captainship because she’s a girl (the team is mostly boys) even though she’s hard working and smart so Daichi confronts the guy and she’s annoyed at him because she can handle it and he doesn’t understand because he’s trying to help and it’s the two of them working it out since they love and admire each other? {from @gloryofroses19​}

a/n: I know nothing about debate team and Google has failed me, so I apologize in advance but I did try my best :’( Thank you for the request (it’s my first one yay \(^ヮ^)/)! I hope it’s up to your liking :’)) We love and stan communication in this house

notes: y/s/n = your surname. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: sawamura daichi x fem!debate team captain!reader | genre: minor angst (w/lots of fluff) | warnings: swearing | word count: 1,856

“--and that’s why homework as a whole should be banned. For the benefit of students and teachers alike!” Otsuka rushed out his concluding sentence just as your phone’s timer went off.

“And time!” You stand up from where you and your vice captain, Masuda, had set up as a judges panel for the mock-debate. “Great work, Otsuka-kun! You played on logos for the majority of your argument but tying it all up with a call on pathos was a great way to conclude your counterpoint to Nomura’s argument. From the notes that Masuda and I took, I think we both agree that Otsuka-kun’s team won this debate.”

Annoyance rises in you as you struggle to maintain a light and positive composure while giving feedback to your team. The only tell was the slight twitch of your eye. Your vice had reluctantly grunted his agreement, arms crossed as he put in no effort to even pretend that he valued your opinion whatsoever.

“Nomura,” you refocused, “next time, for your conclusion, I think you should follow Otsuka-kun’s example and play more on the feelings of your audience! Empathy and sympathy are incredibly powerful emotions that can very well help decide someone’s position on an issue.” Nomura, the sweetheart that he is, smiles and nods shyly in response. You clap your hands, signaling the end of practice. “Okay! I’ll see you all on Friday for another mock-debate! I’ve managed to get Aoba Johsai to agree to a practice with us, so I expect you all to bring your best so that we can wipe the floor with them,” you grin proudly.

“What!” Kubo gasps. “How’d you do that?!”

You wink at her. “I’ve got my connections.”

“You’re so cool, Y/s/n-san!” Sugiyama whines, sweeping his things messily into his bag.

You grin, though, from the corner of your eye, you see Masuda give an exaggerated eye roll at your kouhais’ praise. He won’t let you have one goddamn thing will he.

As you neatly organize the files on your table, putting them away orderly, you occasionally break concentration to wave goodbye to the rest of the team filtering their way out of the classroom you all have been using as your club meeting space. As Ueno is the last one to leave, scrambling after Kubo and asking her on a date she always rejects, you’re left alone with Masuda. You feel like throwing up. It’s only been one full month since you’ve been the official captain of the Karasuno debate team and your vice has been doing a great job making your position a living hell.

“So, how did you manage to snag a practice debate, captain?” Masuda sneered.

You swallowed your desire to punch him square in the mouth and plastered on what you hoped to be a polite smile. “As I said, Masuda, I have connections in high places. They’re important in life’s work, you know.”

Masuda snorted. “They probably only agreed because you’re a girl and those are rare on debate teams.”

“Would you please stop talking about girls like we’re a rare species? Just because you aren’t well-acquainted with us does not mean that we don’t exist.” You mentally simultaneously kicked yourself for being such a smartass and gave yourself a fist bump for the same reason.

Masuda’s smirk fell to a glare. You only smiled brighter in response. Masuda huffed at you, grabbing his things and brushing past you as he left. “Bye, Masuda-kun! See you Friday!” you called cheerily, happy for the win.

For the past week it had been nothing but underhanded comments from him about how you supposedly got your position of captain due to your being a female. As far as you were concerned, you had worked your ass off for the past three years, jumping at any chance to make connections and help hoist up your ability as a debater and a leader. You were smart as hell and maintained your knowledge by reading up on as many current events as possible, so much so that you knew even the smallest of details that often go overlooked.

You were so frustrated over the blatant lack of respect your vice had for you, something which you constantly vented about to your boyfriend, Daichi. He knew the whole situation back and forth and oftentimes felt himself growing frustrated on your behalf, just like now when you recounted the events of your debate practice the next day at lunch.

“Is he an idiot, or something?” Daichi blurted as you told him about Masuda’s gestures.

You snorted, swallowing down a bit of food. “Must be.”

“I mean, does he not realize how hard you work? You’re incredible, baby girl, I just don’t get why he’s so adamant on tearing down your accomplishments.” Daichi’s eyebrows furrowed as he took a bite of beef.

Your heart warmed as a soft smile danced on your lips. “I love you.”

A blush rose on Daichi’s cheeks as he melted into a smile. “I love you, too.” He held your hand on the table, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “Which is why I’m so frustrated for you. I wish I could help.”

“You being here and letting me talk to you about it is a big enough help as it is, so thank you.” You brought his hand to your lips as you pressed a gentle kiss to it. He turned his hand so that he held your cheek, his heart swelling with adoration. You lost yourself in his gaze before checking your phone for the time and suddenly yelping. Daichi jumped, pulling his hand away.

“Oh! I almost forgot, I have to call Seijoh to confirm for tomorrow!” You quickly swept up your things, cleaning up your half-eaten lunch. As you walked backwards hurriedly, you asked, “I love you, I’ll see you tonight?”

“I’ll see you tonight!” Daichi called after you, watching you turn on your heel and almost run to complete your task. There you go, working so hard again for the team you cared deeply for. Daichi knew how hard it was to be a captain and also how diligent you were. And smart. And kind. You did so much for your team and it angered Daichi to no end that anyone (and your vice no less!) would reduce your captainship to something as trivial as your gender. And Daichi knew that his anger had helped put people in line before. Maybe he could use it to help you…

•·················❁·················•

Daichi bounded down the stairs, opening the front door to welcome you inside for your study date. He was admittedly a little worried seeing as your text had read a simple ‘here’ which might not mean much to anyone else but Daichi knew you and knew that you always liked to text ‘here (* ^ ω ^)’ or even a simple ‘here!’.

“Hi, baby,” Daichi greeted, smiling brightly as he opened the door. That smile never failed to make your heart skip a beat, one of the many reasons that you loved him, though in that moment you couldn’t help but be annoyed with your wonderful boyfriend.

“Hi,” you returned, albeit a little coldly. You toed off your shoes and slipped into the slippers that you kept at his place. Thrown off by even the lack of a hello kiss, Daichi watched as you shuffled your way up to his room. Shaking his head, he closed the door and followed you. There was no doubt in his mind now that you were annoyed with him.

He hesitantly joined you at his usual place by your side on his floor during your Thursday evening study dates. You were steadfastly ignoring him, practically burning holes into your textbook rather than looking at him. Seeing as you were intent to keep doing so, Daichi sighed and set to work on his own homework, hoping to give you some time to tell him what had you so irritated.

He didn’t have to wait long. 

“Sawamura Daichi,” you prefaced, closing your textbook with a resounding thud, “I love you--”

“But?” He ventured.

“--and,” you emphasized with a pointed look, “I love that you want to help me, really, I do. But sometimes I’d rather take care of it myself.

“But he’s been bothering you for a whole month, baby, I wanted--” He stopped when you lifted up your hand.

“Please, just… let me finish.” You looked at him, hurt evident in your eyes. Upset that he would ever be the reason for it being there, he nodded and let you carry on. “I know you just wanted to help but if I needed it, I would have asked you for it, babe. I knew something was up when Masuda was late today because, as much as he is a giant jerk, he cares for this team as much as I do, just in his own way. He went off about how my ‘volleyball captain boyfriend’ cornered him and lectured him half to death about how to treat his ‘extraordinary debate team captain’. I know you did it because you thought you were helping, but next time, please just let me handle it.”

“I don’t understand, Y/n,” Daichi began, eyebrows knitted as he looked at you, “I thought I genuinely was helping. Since he clearly doesn’t listen to someone as intelligent and diligent as you, I thought maybe I could -- I don’t know -- that maybe I could intimidate him into being respectful.” You chuckled at that. The sound relieved a bit of the tension between Daichi’s brows, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I just-- It hurts so much seeing you frustrated because someone isn’t recognizing all that you do. I wanted to help and I thought I did. But I only end up upsetting you,” he frowned.

You sighed, picking up his hand and playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “I know, Daichi, I know. But what I’m getting at is that I wanted to handle it in my own way. I admire your ability as a captain and I admire how you lead your team and I admire how you’re able to wrangle them and straighten them out--,” Daichi let out a low chuckle, “--but I want to be able to captain my team in my own way. You and I are different people and that translates into how we lead. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” he nodded. “You’re upset that I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong?” He squeezed your hand, smiling, assuring you that he truly did understand now and that he was only teasing.

“Essentially,” you laughed, the annoyance from before now fully replaced with the satisfaction of being with the one you loved most. “Thank you for wanting to help but next time ask me if I want it first, okay?”

“Okay.” Heat rose to your cheeks as Daichi lifted your hand, pressing a kiss onto the back of it, mimicking what you had done earlier that day. “I love you, Y/n.”

“And I love you,” you leaned in for a kiss, “Sawamura Daichi.”

•·················❁·················•

Needless to say, you both forgot about studying.

taglist: @samwrights​

[3laxx]

In Your Dreams - Chapter 3

When Luz awakes it's only a matter of time until Amity rushes to visit.

I wanted to upload yesterday but I just couldn't find the time to so please forgive me ;-; I hope the wait wasn't too bad!

Ao3 / FF.net

---

In the middle of the night, Eda woke up to some movement coming from the other bed. At first, she thought King was climbing on Luz’s bed again, but the small demon was curled up to her own side. Only when the sleep didn’t cloud her vision anymore, she understood that Luz was moving. And choking.

Suddenly, she was on her feet and rushed to Luz’s side, immediately spotting what was wrong. Humans, albeit having a soul that was unable to tether itself to the astral plane, had an incredibly strong spirit.

Luz was fighting.

She was done sleeping and wanted to wake up now, her body seeing itself unable to sleep any longer. Quickly, she lifted the healers sleeping spell, and immediately, Luz opened her eyes and tried to sit up, gasping, but Eda held her down. For a moment, they stared at each other, then Eda felt tears welling up in her eyes and slowly leaned down to hug her. Luz hiccupped, before slowly, tenderly hugging Eda back and nuzzling her nose into her mentor’s neck.

“Kid, I was so scared… Don’t ever do that to me or your friends ever again.”

Luz squinted her eyes, then she slowly ended the hug between the older witch and her, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Did-… Did I do something wrong?”, she whispered, her voice breaking since she hadn’t used it in so long.

With tears in her eyes, Eda laughed, then she shook her head and softly sat down on the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes. If she did something wrong, she had asked. Oh, what to do with that child, Eda mused.

“You were injured in a grudgby accident, Luz. Because you agreed to be Boscha’s target practice.”

Luz tried to remember, she really did, but nothing came to her mind. The last she remembered was telling Boscha that they’d forfeit. That was all she remembered, after that, everything went hazy.

“Wh-What happened?”, she asked and Eda shot her a glance, then she notified the healers that the patient needed them.

“Boscha hit you with a pretty mean ball. You kinda, sorta, almost died. But you didn’t. And then you slept for 5 days.”, she summarized shortly, finally feeling at ease now that the kid was back and seemed not to have Amnesia.

Luz leaned back in her pillows, staring up at the ceiling. She remembered nothing of all this. She must’ve been out pretty well.

The healers checked Luz’s vitals while Eda texted Amity, Willow, and Gus, waiting until at least one of them would text back. Willow and Gus seemed to be sleeping tightly, but the Blight kid of course had a light sleep. She immediately texted back if Luz was awake and Eda attached Owlbert to her staff again.

“Go pick up the Blight kid for me.”, she instructed the Palisman, then she let him fly out the window and watched him vanish in the night sky towards the Blight manor before turning back to the very confused Luz.

“Hey, you okay?”, the older witch asked but Luz slowly shook her head, then she lifted her arms to her face, rubbing over it.

“Was I-… Very badly injured? Cuz it certainly feels like it.”, Eda panicked for a short moment, but Luz had lifted her legs during the examination of the healer, so she should be alright.

“Why you feel out of it?”, the teenager nodded, rubbing her neck before Eda stopped her, “Don’t do that yet.”

“How are the others?”, ah, that’s a classic Luz move. Worrying about others way too early.

“That Blight kid took it hard. And I don’t think the Park one was too amused as well. And the one who hit you, Boscha, she will only be returning to school tomorrow.”

The girl groaned at that but Eda took her hand and didn’t let her dwell on it.

“Luz, it’s going to be okay. The most important thing is that you made it and that you’re healthy and awake, okay? And hey, Amity’s on the way here right now, she’ll want to see you and she can probably tell you what happened. Although, maybe she wants to tell you a few other things as well.”

Right on cue, said witchling appeared in the window, a jacket hurriedly thrown over her pajamas because she hadn’t even bothered to change and her hair down. She jumped off the windowsill and handed Owlbert to Eda while rushing to the side of Luz’s bed, tightly hugging her.

Luz was a little surprised at Amity’s appearance, and her need to hug her immediately, but she happily accepted this sign of affection and buried her face on Amity’s neck, feeling her sitting down on the edge of her bed.

They hugged for a few minutes, Amity pressing Luz down into her covers not to move her too much, but unwilling to let go. The relief flushed through her like a boiling wave and suddenly, she didn’t care at all anymore about touching Luz. Suddenly, there was only her and the human she had come to like so much. A tiny sniffle escaped her nose and Luz softly patted her back, turning her head in a little to snuggle her friend who just wouldn’t let go of her.

“… You’re finally awake again…”, Amity finally mumbled a few minutes later, before slowly parting from her and brushing some strands of hair out of her face, huffing at the annoyance. She wasn’t used to wearing her hair down and liked it a lot more if it was tied up in a small ponytail, to keep the bangs out of her face.

Luz found it adorable, though. And suddenly, hair-down-Amity was her favorite Amity.

“You look pretty.”, she finally said and the young witchling spluttered, turning a bright red at which Eda had to turn, bit her lip, and look out the window not to laugh loudly. She really loved her kid but she was as dense as swamp water.

“… Th-Thanks.”, Amity could finally press out when she had calmed down a little, but Luz wasn’t done yet. Her filter was gone and Eda didn’t know if she should be thankful for that or curse it. It caused amusement, that was for sure because she knew exactly what that Blight kid felt.

“I mean it. Your hair looks pretty when it’s down. But-… It’s dyed. Your normal hair color is brown, isn’t it?”

At that, Amity had to roll her eyes, but she was able to talk still and keep her blush at bay.

“Y-Yeah, my mom dyes it to make Edric, Emira, and I look color-coordinated. But, that’s not the topic at hand right now. How are you feeling?”

The two of them caught up a little, Amity unwillingly telling Luz what had happened in detail, then Eda gave them some privacy by “searching for snacks”. Little did they know the older witch actually went back to the Owl House.

Luz patted the bed next to her and Amity lied down, now feeling much more confident and comfortable about being with Luz, and they stared up at the ceiling. Maybe that was caused by the late hour and her being a little bit sleep drunk despite the adrenaline rush or the relief that Luz had woken up okay still warming her limbs and cheeks, but Amity couldn’t really care.

“So-… How’s everyone holding up?”

Amity sighed at that question, shrugging.

“Willow, Gus, and I are fine, I think. We’ve been looking out for each other, and Eda and I have spent quite some time together as well. Boscha is-… I haven’t seen her since then, but I think she went into shock and took a break and some therapy. Maybe it’d be a good idea to invite her here once you feel up to it. Otherwise…”, the young witchling grimaced at the gossip, “Everyone who’s not involved is gossiping about my reaction when it happened and-… I saw you lying there.”

Luz turned her head towards her, questioning, and Amity wished she wasn’t as truthful as she had just been.

“W-Well, I kinda threatened Boscha to kill her because she had hurt you… And it looked really scary, you looked-… Horrifying. But I mean, that’s what every friend would do.”

Luz chuckled at that and looked back up to the ceiling.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me, Blight.”

Amity’s heart skipped a beat when she recognized what Luz was getting at, and she was on the verge of tears when she realized that she had felt that crippling, threatening fear that day, that she would never hear again what Luz had just said.

A dry sob ripped through her throat and Luz looked over in shock, her eyes widening.

“Oh gosh, oh Titan, I am so sorry, Amity! I didn’t know you’d react like this, I wouldn’t have said anything, I-”

The witchling managed to shake her head and reassure Luz with a little chuckle, then she let the human take her hand and squeezed back when the girl next to her did.

“No, no! It’s okay, really. I just-… I just remembered you lying on that grudgby field and-… I thought you’d never say that again. Or anything for that matter. You-… Didn’t look good, at all. We all thought that, but Boscha actually managed to pull you through.”

Luz slowly nodded, then she softly squeezed Amity’s hand again. She needed a minute to pull herself out of her memories, closing her eyes and feeling Luz’s hand to know that what had happened was in the past, then she breathed through. Luz smiled as she felt the tremble going away, and the girl calming down again, “I’m sorry for that… I didn’t mean to scare you guys.”

Amity sighed, then she nodded.

“We-… We know. Boscha just didn’t realize you’d take that hit so hard. Any other witch would’ve gotten back up again and continued. I suppose she just misread the situation. I just wished I had been there earlier… Willow or I could’ve diverted the ball. We could’ve just prevented this, but we were too slow…”

Luz rolled over to look at Amity and the witchling turned back to her as well, lying on her side to make it easier for both of them. She still felt the blush burning on her cheeks but boy was she glad for Eda turning off the lights before she left. The darkness of the room covered her blush at least a little bit.

“It happened, Amity. It won’t do you well to dwell on it. So please don’t, it’ll just result in guilt that I don’t want you to have.”, as much as she felt like what she had said, Amity was impressed by Luz asking her not to blame herself for that. And especially how right the Latina was with that. Stumped, Amity nodded, then she breathed through and softly rubbed her legs, feeling the cold getting to her. Luz noticed that and giggled.

“Sleepover!”, she nestled the blanket out from under Amity and threw it over her, before pulling her closer so they could both fit under the one-person blanket. Amity deeply blushed at that again, but she let Luz turn to lie on her back and direct Amity to place her head on her shoulder. Faintly, she could hear a heartbeat from Luz’s side, and she couldn’t describe how much that calmed her down. Luz’s heart was beating slowly and calmly. All of Amity’s worries immediately vanished at the rhythmical and strong beat so that suddenly, she felt tired.

The adrenaline had stopped pumping through her veins and the night and exhaustion at the news finally caught up to her.

Her eyelids fluttered close and she could hear Luz shifting, then the girl’s arms wrapped around her to keep her close and warm. On another day, in another situation, Amity would have imploded, but for now, she was just glad her friend was alive.

She couldn’t even describe how glad she was about this. After seeing Luz lying on the grudgby field like this, with the dark red puddle spreading around her, with the blood on the spike, and with all the blood on her friends’ clothes, she would’ve never thought Luz could be okay after this. But it had turned out that the opposite had been the case, thanks to the grudgby team and Willow’s help.

Luz snuggled her closer and Amity found herself smiling at that.

Huh, she thought to herself, maybe I can still spend a night with Luz like in the library without turning into a hot mess.

The breathing next to her just confirmed this. She didn’t care about being flustered or about revealing herself or anything like that. She was next to a person she held dear, that she had thought to be dead. She was content as she was now and she didn’t need her crush butting in.

“… You have gone soft on me.”, Luz smugly stated, the sleep already laced into her voice, just when Amity felt herself slipping into some welcome rest as well.

“… In your dreams…”, she whispered with a pout, and they both knew she was lying.

Because this wasn’t a dream.

---

Thank you so much for reading thus far!

Give me a short feedback in the comments if I should leave the story at this!

[merakiui]

hey!! i was lucky enough to stumble across your blog, & i'm enjoying your writing!! could i request something for a first date w/ sian? maybe something more casual, like a cafe!

(I’m glad you like it! Hopefully this is what you had in mind with your request! I went for a “friends to lovers” vibe in a modern setting if that’s okay. Please enjoy and thank you for such a fun request!)

Courtesy Coffee (Sian)

You met under unpleasant circumstances. Sian was in a rush to get to his destination, and you were staring down at your phone with a cup of iced coffee in your other hand. Like that banal trope in shoujo manga, the two of you crashed into one another, and your drink spilled all over his outfit. As complete strangers, it was obvious that the one who was drenched would be incredibly frustrated. That was an exact observation, only Sian didn’t feel the need to use a filter that day.

“Are you kidding me? Watch where you’re going!” he had yelled, gripping his soaked shirt and glaring daggers at you. “How am I supposed to show up to work looking like this?!”

Anyone would feel frightened with his exasperated tone of voice and the intimidating aura that surrounded him, but you weren’t one to surrender immediately.

Straightening your shoulders, you met his heated stare. “I’m sorry. At least it wasn’t hot, right?” Hoping to dispel his anger, you smiled a little. “I can buy you a clean shirt if it’ll make you feel better.”

He puffed his cheeks out, suddenly bashful as he avoided your gaze. “It’s the least you could do! Seriously, this is the worst. I smell just like your stupid coffee.”

“Hey, don’t diss my iced coffee. It’s delicious and you know it.”

“If it’s so good, why is it all over me?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “This’ll stain, you know!”

“I offered to get you another shirt.”

“It’s not just on my shirt, you moron! I can’t face my colleagues like this. You have no idea what they’ll say.”

“Suck it up then!”

“No!”

You sighed heavily, gripping your empty coffee cup. “There’s no need to be difficult. Just let me get you a clean polo and slacks. Unless you’d rather parade around in wet, coffee-smelling attire. You’re making a scene with all of your yelling.”

“You were just yelling, too. Fine, whatever. I guess you can do that.”

Even as you spied his blush, you couldn’t ignore your thoughts. Is he seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’m getting him clothes? Anyone would do this to repay the damage. 

“That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, and for the record you’re the one who should watch where you’re going.”

He didn’t take those words too well. Regardless, that was how you met the guy with a loud mouth and an even louder personality. You ran into him twice after that incident, and each time he seemed to stumble over himself. He tried to thank you for the clothes, but all he could manage was a huff and an angry comment about how the fabric was uncomfortable. Weeks later, that same boy just so happened to feel bad about starting a few shouting matches with you during those three times you interacted. He saw you in a café by chance and secretly covered your drink fee, making the barista promise not to reveal his identity. It was a sweet gesture, despite being anonymous and a bit of a shock on your end. You’d never experienced the magic that was receiving your drink for free, but it was great nonetheless.

You enter work that morning with a cheery disposition, passing by coworkers and even engaging in kind banter with those who aren’t the friendliest. You clock in and make your way towards the elevator while scrolling through an online article. Hearing a familiar ping, you glance up, urging whoever’s inside to hold the door. There are four other people crammed within the area, all of whom are silently waiting for the elevator to rise. You push the button for your floor and relax. Momentarily, you glance around the enclosed space to see if you can recognize anyone from your department. Your eyes sweep from one person to the next, and you spot polite Nine at the very back.

You’re compelled to greet him, but someone stands in your way. Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy who was showered in iced coffee two weeks ago. You gasp and turn away, hoping he won’t notice you.

No way! We work for the same company? What’re the odds? This must be a bad omen! I don’t want to start another fight with him, you think, having done your best to erase those memories.

The elevator pings, and you’re completely distracted. Though you don’t miss the hand that taps your shoulder. Your gaze follows his arm. It’s that guy again.

“Hey. This is your floor, isn’t it?”

The number doesn’t lie, but Sian’s memory might as he struggles to recall your familiar features. It clicks just as you bolt out of the elevator, the doors slipping shut and obscuring your backside for good. Sian blinks rapidly as his face heats up. That was...

Coffee idiot! he thinks. There’s no mistaking that stupid look on their face. He’s thrown into a bad mood at once, internally grumbling as he remembers that day. Even if he changed into new clothes, he still smelled of coffee. It was embarrassing, and his bothersome colleagues wouldn’t leave him alone. And now we work in the same building. Maybe I should just quit so I don’t have to face them.

"Can you believe it, Youssef?” you ask your deskmate, having ranted to him while typing up the progress of this week’s publication. At least that’s a monetary positive for the company. You can’t say the same for your mentality, though. “I do something nice in return and he yells at me. And then we meet again—twice—and he’s still rude.”

Youssef tilts his head, a childish gesture for someone his age. “Are you sure you’re not incorrectly reading his actions?”

“I’m positive. When have I ever been wrong?” You frown as your fingers slow their pace on the keyboard. “I just found out today that we work in the same building. This is totally unfair. Why do I have to bear the burden of knowing this information?”

“I’m sure he means well. What does he look like? I might know him.” You describe him to your helpful colleague, who nods and taps his chin in thought. His expression lights up with recognition. “If I remember correctly, his name is Sian, and he’s in the marketing department. We’ve only talked briefly, but I can assure you he’s quite diligent with his work.”

“Well, everyone’s got their own personality outside of their jobs.”

“I suppose, but it’s not polite to label someone based off of such little knowledge,” he advises lightly, turning his attention back to his computer screen. “Rather than using all of your energy painting a bad image of him, you should spend that time getting to know him. It’ll fix any negative impressions you may have.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t like that...”

Since then, you haven’t run into Sian once. At first you made it your mission to keep an eye out for him, but now that you’ve been busy with this new project you can’t be bothered to let his image clutter your mind. So you brush him aside like a cobweb, certain you won’t bump into him again. Your floors are far enough apart, so it’s unlikely that that’ll happen. But you’re not always the luckiest, and fate tends to tease those who aren’t on good terms with one another.

You’re close to running late on a rainy day, having missed the train, so now you’re doing everything you can to catch a taxi. Cars speed by on the road, and you fail to flag down a vehicle. Dejected and soaked to the bone, you drag your feet along the slick sidewalk, wishing for your next paycheck so that you can put it towards a used car. Speaking of cars, one slides past you as it makes an effort to park along the walkway. In doing so, the tires kick up a huge puddle, effectively soaking your lower half. As if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The car almost moves out of the spot before it halts, and the window steadily rolls down to reveal the face of your greatest enemy.

Well, he’s not technically your greatest enemy, but it really feels like it in that moment.

“Do you need a ride?” As if correcting himself, he quickly adds, “I’m not doing this because it’s you! I’m just sympathizing.”

Does it matter? you wonder, bitter and cold and wet. Karma is so brutal.

“You’re Sian, right?” You approach his car, peering in at the flustered man. “From marketing.”

“Y-Yeah. So what?”

“I’m in publishing.” Awkwardly, you look up at the cloudy sky. “It’s really coming down. The forecast didn’t call for this much rain.”

“Are you getting in or not?”

“But you’re a stranger,” you jest, fixing him with a pout. “I don’t want scary Sian to kidnap me.”

He glowers at your joke. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have time for this.”

You hold back a chuckle, tearing open the door before he can drive off. “Wait! Sorry, I’ll get in. I can’t stand another minute in this rain.”

The window slides up, and he sets the car in motion after you’ve buckled up, easing back into the flow of traffic smoothly. Now that you’re sitting there with the AC blowing cool air at your face, you shudder. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be in clothes that are warm and untouched by the rain. In his peripheral, Sian catches your shivering form, and he switches the AC from cold air to hot. You might not dry as quick as one would hope, but at least it’s something.

The silence is utterly tense. You almost expect him to bicker with you like he did in the past. Instead, he’s focused on the winding road ahead. Though you don’t miss the pink hue that tints his cheeks and gradually rises to his ears.

“So,” you say, if only to get a conversation going. “How’s work?”

“Fine, I guess. How did you know who I was?”

“My friend Youssef.”

“Oh.”

“You probably don’t know me. I’m (Name).”

“I already know.”

“Really? Stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker!” he exclaims, glaring hard at the windshield. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re always so loud at our company parties. How can anyone ignore that?” Sian then proceeds to bless your ears with a story from this year’s holiday party. A few departments got together and went out for drinks and karaoke. Naturally, you had a drinking contest with your colleagues, which led to a tipsy night of bad singing and stumbling from one bar to the next. You were surprised Sian remembered that, mainly because you couldn’t recall seeing him there. And it’s been months since that rowdy night. “Do you see my point?”

“Don’t remind me. That hangover hurt my soul.”

He quirks a smile at that. “It’s not flattering when you sing high notes in the wrong key.”

“Like you could do any better.”

“I can because I was sober.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, gazing out at the scenery that passes by in a blur of dull colors. Without meaning to, you eye Sian’s reflection in the window, taking note of his side profile. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s calm and not acting so stubborn. “I guess we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you splashed me when your tires hit that puddle.”

“Am I supposed to buy you clothes now?”

“If you’re offering...”

“I wasn’t offering!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.”

I wasn’t worried to begin with, you coffee idiot, Sian thinks, gripping the steering wheel. He keeps track of your occasional trembling, and he can’t help but feel troubled. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry off soon. Suddenly, he regrets pulling up beside you and accidentally sending water flying in your direction. This time it was definitely his fault, wasn’t it? Sian wants to make it up to you, but it’s impossible. He’ll die of embarrassment before he succeeds in performing a good deed in front of you.

Truthfully, he’s always noticed you. The very first instance was last year at the company’s drinking party. You were glued to Youssef’s side, engaging in idle chatter with him and another guy he wasn’t too familiar with. At the time, Sian thought your behavior was obnoxious. No one wants their younger coworker clinging to them. It just made you look like an attention-seeking puppy. Although you were definitely upbeat at that party. He had watched you chug an entire pint of beer like it was nothing and then join in on a pointless game of Ten Fingers with enough energy to put a child to shame.

He thought you were annoying at first, and yet there was something captivating about your personality. He’d never had the guts to approach you outright, so when he ran into you that day all of his frustrations just spilled over. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to talk to you at every company party, and now that he had a chance he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t mentally prepared anything! So he said the first thing that came to his mind, which passed through his unfiltered lips in a very abrupt manner.

But you didn’t show any fear. You hardly flinched. Instead you met his words with a few of your own, and that’s what ruffled Sian’s feathers. You were so good at communication, and he was very much unskilled, usually relying on phrases he prepared in his head. It’s not like he couldn’t talk. He could when he was interested in a certain subject or whenever he was reading from a page, but in front of someone he admired... Sian knew he’d make a fool of himself.

Now that you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he has every opportunity to say what he wants. Yet the words scramble in his brain, and he can’t calm his racing heart. Before he can think of anything witty, the building comes into view, and the parking garage has never seemed so dismal. Sian’s kicking himself as he parks, disappointed with how he handled that situation.

“Thanks for this. I’ll go on ahead.” You unbuckle, holding your briefcase and squeezing water from your blazer. “I’m sorry if I got your seat wet.”

“It’s...fine.”

You’re going to walk away and then he’ll become the coffee idiot. He opens his mouth to say something that’ll stop you, but you turn around at the right moment.

“Let’s get coffee sometime in the future. You deserve it after all the trouble I gave you,” you propose, smiling earnestly. And I feel guilty for my initial judgement. Youssef was right.

Sian’s eyes widen, and he struggles to remain stoic. “Oh, uh...”

“That’s okay with you, right?”

“I guess. Whatever works for you.” He shrugs.

“Great!” You retrieve a pen from your case and close the distance between the two of you. Humming, you snatch his hand, spreading his fingers so that his palm is wide open. And then you scribble something on it, grinning in satisfaction. Sian stares at you the entire time, his face blank and head filled with static. “Text me the days you’re available. See you later!” You tuck the pen away, hastily dashing in the direction of the elevator.

Sian stands there for a moment, slack-jawed. He forces himself to look down at his hand. Your number is written on his skin in smudged ink. His face erupts in a flurry of red. That coffee idiot...

------

“It’s not a date,” Sian mutters as he walks to the café. “It’s not. Stop thinking that way.”

But maybe it is a date, the voice in the back of his mind whispers, goading him into believing so. He dressed as casually as possible, but he still hopes it’ll impress you. There are plenty of fears that flood his head, and he almost turns around as soon as he gets to the entrance. But he’s come this far, and he’d regret it forever if he left now. This might be his only chance; he can’t afford to pass it up. So he pushes open the door in search of you. It doesn’t take long to locate your form amongst the few who are inside. Sian’s pulse rushes into overdrive, and he clenches his jaw.

It’s not a date. Act natural.

You look up from your phone just as he slides into the seat across from you. A warm smile blossoms across your face, and you tuck your mobile away. “Sian, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“It’d be rude if I didn’t show up after you made all those plans.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about Monday morning.”

You had felt bad? Sian’s cheeks must be burning intensely bright now, but there’s nothing he can do. “It’s your fault for being an idiot.”

You chuckle. “That makes two of us. One idiot ignored the forecast, and the other wasn’t watching where he was going.”

“Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I’m not as stupid as you.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “And you don’t have any taste. I mean, iced coffee? Really?”

“It’s good!” you insist. “You’re missing out. Everyone knows iced coffee is better than hot coffee.”

“Is it now? I don’t agree with that statistic.”

“You’re allowed to have your own opinion, Mr. Sian,” you tease. “Give me your drink order. I’ll go get it.”

“What? No way. I’ll pay.”

“As if! I’m treating you.”

“You already bought me clothes.”

“And now I’m going to buy you coffee. It’s to say thanks for picking me up during that storm.”

“I would’ve left you on that sidewalk if I knew you were going to make it a hassle now!”

“Just accept my kindness!”

Sian shuts his mouth, giving into your demand. He grumbles his order, and you’re very happy as you make your way towards the register to get the two of you drinks and pastries. He watches as you pay, releasing a soft sigh. It’s hard to say no to someone you’ve admired for so long. Sian’s not sure when he started to like you, but he’s certain these recent interactions have only added fuel to the burning fire residing in his heart. It’s embarrassing to think he’s even on a romantic outing with you, but it’s not like the two of you are close friends. So then what does that make this?

When you return to the window table, setting down the drinks and a plate with two strawberry bread puddings, he’s shaken from his daydreams. This is actually happening. It’s not just another fantasy he’s imagined while witnessing you drink your sanity away at parties.

“I’m not sure if you like strawberries, but I—“

“I guess it’s okay,” he interrupts, trying to hide the fact that he actually likes it very much.

“Good!” You ease into your chair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his latte. “Huh.”

“You seemed really upset when I spilled my coffee on you. But anyone would be, so it’s completely understandable. I thought you hated me because of that. When we saw each other again, you were pretty sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive!” he snaps, proving your point. “That was a white shirt you ruined.”

“Will you feel better if you dump coffee on me?”

“What? Why would I do that? I’m not going to do something as petty as that!”

“Aw, so you do care.”

“I don’t. Get lost.”

You break out into a laughing fit, genuinely amused at his coldness. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he’s quite nice, and you’re relieved that he didn’t turn out to be a bully seeking revenge. Then again, it’s been weeks since that incident. 

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so expressive. It’s hard not to laugh.”

A furious red darkens his face, and he decides to fumble with his fork in order to give his hands something to do. The bread pudding is surprisingly delicious. He fumes in his embarrassment while he eats.

Eventually, the two of you converse about work and that project your department took on. Sian listens to your rambling as you go on and on about how irksome it is when last-minute changes are made to a finalized draft. He enjoys every story you tell him, and by the time the plate is empty he feels as if he’s grown closer with you. Could this be the beginning of a friendship? He’s hit with a sudden wave of inspiration for lyrics that will never be sung. At least they can fester on a page in his notebook, where he’ll return on countless occasions to proofread and debate over the meaning of each line. Oh, how he’d love to share his music with you. It’ll take a while before he does something as bold as that, though.

“I just got an idea! There’s this awesome bar thirty minutes from work. I usually go with my friends because they’ve got a bunch of games you can play. Board games, card games—you name it. We should go one of these days.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah! You seem like a fun guy to hang out with. Card games might sound boring, but they’re actually really fun when you’re playing for money. And when you’ve got a few drinks in your system.”

Sian struggles to hide the giddy smile that threatens to split his lips. “No... It sounds perfect. I’m actually really good at Slapjack, so be prepared to lose miserably!”

“Is that a challenge? What should we wager?”

"How about a meal? Loser has to pay for the winner’s lunch.”

“All right. It’s a deal. I’ll keep you updated on my schedule so that we can choose a weekend to meet up.”

“Sure!” Sian’s face won’t stop heating up and he can’t slow his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I’ll only do it so I can get a free lunch. It’s not like I’m agreeing for your sake.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”

His chest feels airy and light, almost as if he’s in a dream. Your words weigh on his conflicted heart. How can anyone make plans so easily? If the roles were reversed, he’d be an absolute mess. It’d be so embarrassing; Sian would probably want to curl up and disappear if he ever tried to ask you out on his own volition. You probably don’t even feel the same way. After all, this is merely two coworkers having a normal conversation. But he can’t get stuck in the friend zone. That’d be the worst outcome to all of this. So in the meantime he’ll do his best to act cordial. He can hide his shy demeanor and fluffy feelings behind a blunt attitude.

“All of this planning makes it seem like we’re a couple,” you muse with flirtatious intent. Leaning back in your chair, you gauge Sian’s reaction. Just as you figured, he’s turning crimson. It’s honestly endearing to see him get so flustered. “What do you think, Sian?”

“I... I don’t know. Don’t say stupid things! It’s really annoying.”

No matter how sharp his words are, you know he doesn’t mean it. After all, his expression clearly refutes those claims.

“Sian and (Name), sitting in a tree—“

“Shut up!”

If this isn’t a date, then what’s with all the flirting?

Sian’s going to have to take a cold shower when he gets home to lower his body temperature. And to scrub away the embarrassment that’s washed over him like rain.

It’s not a date. It’s just coffee with an acquaintance. Yeah. Just courtesy coffee.

He couldn’t be any further from the truth.

[cummingforkylo]

ok idk if ur taking requests... but imagine reader x kylo... reader is on a diff planet or away from kylo but shes connected w him mentally w the force so they can still talk and stuff and one night reader is feeling in da mood and one thing leads to another and suddenly kylo is manifesting himself into her room like in tros when him and rey battle and they are jumping from eachothers locations.... just.... imagine......

Hi! I did something a little different with this one. It basically goes off this prompt but I did a little bit of a weird free form poetry thing in parts of it? I dunno if its poetry or if it worked at all but I was feeling something different. I’ve done similar stuff in some of my other work for my other fandom and I liked it then but idk if it worked here. Let me know.

By All MeansRating: Explicit/NSFWCW: Sex?Word Count: 1,668Prompt/Summary: You and Kylo were far away from each other. But thank the stars for the Force.

Kylo was so far away, but you could still feel him. He was there in your mind, when you closed your eyes you could see him. Was he aware of this connection too? Were you really seeing him, or was this just in your mind? You couldn’t  be sure. You missed him. You never thought you’d even think that. You missed his touch. From your spot in your bed you ran your fingers down your body, stroking over the skin on your belly and you thought of him, thought of his hands and the rough way they gripped at your skin, fingers digging into flesh.

Your face flushed red

Melting

Dripping

Pulsing

Hands shake

Lip bite

Grab at fabric

You could see him so clear, in his quarters, his eyes wild, searching.  Shirtless, chest slightly sweaty. His hair a mess, flopping in his eyes, face fleshed with effort. Effort of what? You couldn’t place what he was doing but he was so close, right there, you could reach out and touch him if you wanted. And you wanted. Everything about him stoked the fire in your belly. Your fingers itched for it.

Tremble

Breath sticks in your throat

Burning and aching

Tautened nipples

Slicked wet slit

Hand dropping lower

Your fingers  inched into the shorts you were wearing to bed, all you did was long for him to be closer, to be near. To be so close you could feel his breath in your ear, hear the command in your ear, Strip.

Laid bare

Exposed

Naked

Shuddering

Twitch

You couldn’t deny yourself, you pressed your fingers into your shorts, bypassing your undies and going straight in. You were wet, just thinking about his face, those strong features, the burning in his eyes. Were you just thinking about him though? Or was he there? Unaware of your connection? Your fingers trailed through your wetness, it collected against your fingers and you shuddered as your fingers stroked against your lips. You could only stare at his actions in his room in your mind’s eye. Thank the stars, whatever was happening in the Force wasn’t making him see you.

“Isn’t it?” The sudden deep voice that seemed to fill your entire room sent a shiver through you. Your cheeks flared red and you stared across the bed at him. He was in your space now, staring down at you with your legs splayed, your hand tucked inside your shorts, fingers dancing over your slit. He knew you were thinking of him, looking at him within this connection. Now here he was, in your room. You were confused and red hot embarrassment colored your cheeks as he gazed down at you. He was standing at the end of your bed, watching as you masturbated. Your breath let out in a gasp, your chest rattling a little in fear.

“By all means, keep going,” He breathed. You didn’t need telling twice so you started to rub your fingers across your clit, your fingers working gently.

Even strokes

Around the sides

Up and down

Slid across

Right there

There

Ohhhh

You were losing your breath, it felt too good, especially with him watching you. Kylo’s eyes were trained on you, even though you were still dressed. As if he read your mind he lifted his eyes to your face.

“Strip.” The word you had thought earlier, the word that had launched you into this. He knew. He had to. You ripped your hand out of your shorts and then reached up into the sides and shoved them and your underwear down at the same time. It took you a second to get them off of your feet, his eyes ate you up.

Raking over your body

Penetrating into your depths

Sending shivers through your whole being

You shook where you were laying but he didn’t give you time to start touching yourself again. He grabbed your ankle and yanked you down towards him. In that fleeting tug your surroundings changed to his dark quarters on the supremacy, everything was dark, chrome, sterile looking. You gasped, but as you recovered reality he was already grabbing at your shirt, ripping it off over your head. Finally feeling like you could touch him you reached up and ran your fingers along the top of his trousers. You started to undo them. Your breathing was ragged, his big hands reached down and cupped your breasts as you managed to get his trousers undone.

“You thought you could only see me? And I couldn’t watch you touch yourself to the thoughts of me?” he asked, he leaned down close to you. Your lips were a centimeter apart, his breath was hot. You nodded, looking up into his eyes. You were about to answer but his lips silenced yours by pressing into them. You kissed him back as he threw your shirt away. You tugged back to breath and you saw your shirt hit a table but it wasn’t your table, it was his, dark and unfamiliar in your room. Next thing you knew he was on top of you, moving over you. His hands on your white sheets, his body pressed into yours.

His weight

Warmth

Pinning you down

Hand in your hair

Holding you into him

Breathe

Gasp

Tongues touching

Hips raise

You had been aching for it, and suddenly it was here, so close. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his shoulders. Kylo allowed you to roll onto of him.

Straddle

Grind

Black sheets now

Soft

Hot

Throbbing heat

Glowing excitement

You saw him against his bed, the scene around you changing. It didn’t matter though, what mattered was connecting with him. Whether this was real, a dream or he Force didn’t matter, all that mattered was that underneath you, you could feel his hard cock, barely contained by his trousers that were falling down. You wanted it inside you. With fumbling fingers you tugged his trousers down more, his cock fell out now against his belly.

Hard

Practically pulsing

Flushed

Leaking

Aching with need

It matched your pussy and you knew he had missed you too. You sat up on your knees and then sank down onto his cock. You watched as his brow furrowed and then relaxed with pleasure as you moved your hips against him. It was the instant relief of a drug striking your veins. Your head spun and you spun back into your reality, Kylo intruding in your space again. His back against white sheets and soft pillows and blankets. Your hips bounced up and down, his hands found your tits. His fingers teased across your nipples, they hardened even more under his touch. He pinched them between his thumb and forefinger. With a whimper of pleasure you slowed your hips, grinding down on him, chasing your own orgasm, ignoring his need.

This must have irritated him, because his arms wrapped around your waist and he flipped you over onto your back. Your body against his dark sheets now, looking up at him framed by dark walls and ceiling. Unfamiliar smells, and cool filtered air making you second guess what was real and what was the Force. He slammed his hips forward, his cock rocking hard into you.

“You don’t get to do that,” he snarled angrily, he reached out and grabbed your throat, closing your windpipe for only a second before releasing and then closing again. His cock filled you up completely, giving you the stretch you needed, helping the ache unravel.

“Oh, Kylo…yes…yes.” You moaned, lifting your hips, trying to meet his movements.

“Tell me how badly you need it,” He growled.

“So badly! I need you!” You whined. Your head thrown back against his pillows, your chest heaving.

“You needed my cock to please your dirty cunt, didn’t you?” he asked, he grunted with the effort and his own need. Pleasure built in you, your mind was becoming undone but your orgasm was winding up tighter and tight read to burst open.

“Y-Yes,” Was all you could squeak out. His eyes are transfixed on you, his hips snap forward, his cock egging on that winding excitement in your cunt. You were so close.

“Beg,” he snarled, because he could sense it. You whined incoherently, you couldn’t find the words. “Beg or I’ll walk away, slut.” He said, but you could hear how undone he was. His teeth were gritted, his brow furrowed and it voice shook a little with his own need. You wanted to call his bluff but his movements had slowed and you couldn’t find it in you to risk it.

“Kylo! Please! Please…oh stars! I need it, I need your big cock…. I need your cum inside of me and I need to cum! I need it so badly.” Your voice was garbled and you spewed everything you could think of. Your heat thrummed faster, faster and you were so close, you were about to tip over the edge and be unable to stop it.

“Cum for me then, girl.” He said, he redoubled his thrusts. His cock slammed all the way into you again, you felt your walls pulse, gripping at his cock to keep him inside of you. Your head tilted back in pleasure and you lost any sense of where you were.

White sheets, heat billowing around you

Black sheets, sparks inside your belly

White walls, exploding in your cunt

Black panels of a ship, breath gone

Darkness, hot cum filling you

Light, hips raising to meet his

Cool air, white light behind your eyes

Warm breath

Shaking

Stirring

Moaning

You grabbed at his back and you wanted nothing more than for this to be real. For him to be right there with you, not lightyears away. He pulled back from you and looked down at you. He was in your space again, intruding on your privacy. You stared as he stood up.  You reached out for him but he was fading away just as your orgasm subsided.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Intruder (It’s The Avengers)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

ONE SHOT

Warnings: mention of ghosts and intruders. No Ghosts were harmed in the making of this fic though I’m pretty sure the ones in my room were shocked at this piece of fic. I can feel them scrunching their nose at me right now.

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

One Shot: You are alone at home and hear a noise...

Almost forgot to mention the reason for this one-shot. (Belated) Happy birthday @nygmobblepot-trash

Word Count: I cannot believe myself and my desk. All this time its been holding stuff when it could have been helping me write stories like throwing cash money at respected strippers in the da club. Yup, my readers are those lovely strippers and their comments and love are their services for me. Does this make sense?

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

Somewhere in the dark, a pair of eyes watched you reading some book in the library, sitting under that one bulb illuminating the desk where you sat alone, lost in those yellow pages. Your one hand kept over the book while the other rested on your face, your little finger playing along your lips.

Click.

A sound came from some unknown source. You inhaled a lungful, never blinking away.

Click-click.

You blinked and looked up, turning to see outside the door of the library. Nothing but darkness said hello back. Not thinking much about it you went back to the book, taking your little finger under your teeth and leaning back in the chair on an angle.

Click.

Click-click.

This time your ears were sharp, your head tilting quickly in the direction of the sound. Straining your auditory nerves, you kept looking in the direction of the door for a good while.

Click-click.

That's it. I'm checking it out.

Old experiences and a lot of late-night crime and horror documentaries had taught you to be discreet when it came to weird noises of the night. But what you figured out yourself was that a book would not be the most suitable weapon against whatever was lurking out there. So, picking up Rhodey's trophy kept in the showcases of all the awards collected by the Avengers over time, you pushed your slippers over to the carpeted floor while slowly moving out of the warm space.

The clicking sound now echoed through the compound. So did the sound of ducks quacking in the pond outside; quite possibly at the stray cat that you'd brought home once and tried to hide from Tony. Ultimately you had to leave it outside when it scratched Vision for turning off his body heat because little Mew Mew didn't want to get up from his lap. In Vision’s defence, he’d lost a bet against Pietro and had been dared to that.

The fact that everyone else was out of town was not helping with every little tinker of noise you were hearing or your mind was making up.

Friday. I still have Friday. She'd take care of me if there was an intruder, right?

You wanted to ask her so bad. But the fear giving away your location in the dark was too much of a risk right now.

Maybe it's a mouse.

Click click click.

Yeah, it's just a mouse looking for some chee-

A cold chuckle came from the lounge along with a faint glow, freezing you in the open corridor that led to Bruce and Tony's lab. A crack of lightning lit up everything around you before the thunder rumbled, sending jolts to your already weak heart that saw a figure pass lounge- from the kitchenette towards the dorms- with a candle in its hands.

Had you not forcefully been made to exercise to strengthen your muscles you could've sworn you might have peed right there out of sheer fright.

There's someone out there. THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE FREAKING LOUNGE!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT! OH MY GAAAHHHDD!! SHIT SHIT SHIT SH- Wait. If there was an intruder Friday would have warned me right? But she didn't say anything. *Gasp* Did they-did they kill Friday?!

Queue lightning and thunder!

Oh my G-no no no I'm sure Friday's alright. Oh God oh God oh God oh God! Okay okay okay breathe. Yes, breeeeeathe. Good. Good. Now, if it wasn't an intruder and Friday is okay does that mean it's a ghost?

Just when all those thoughts were running inside your head like a freight train, a figure in the shadows lingered behind you, getting closer by the second at an incredibly slow pace.

Oh FUCK WE HAVE A GHOST IN THE COMPOUND!

The figure in the dark behind you was nearly over your shoulder when you felt your hair rise in anticipation of the presence behind you. And like any bad horror movie, your reflex worked to turn you around with the trophy pointed outwards at...nothing.

N-no one's there. Okay, I'm clearly creeping myself out. What if...w-what if it's a friendly ghost. What if it's a Casper? I'm sure we can check that out, right? You asked your inner voice.

Do you want to die? 'Cause that's exactly how you die, came the reply.

Oh, come on! We can't possibly hide from a ghost anyways. And I'm sure Mr Stark has equipped the compound with something against ghosts. Hopefully.

Your inner voice chuckled.

What is he? A daddy of fourteen kids?

...dude.

Yeah, I know the answer to that question. My bad, she shrugged.

A door creaked somewhere in the dorms, bringing you back to reality.

Maybe we should check it out, your inner voice suggested, making you question its sanity.

Aren't you supposed to protect me against danger?

Ay, she sharply pointed at you, I'm also supposed to satiate your curiosity. So, this time the cat might just, I don't know, die.

Wow, you are a nasty one, you implied at your inner voice.

It's ookay, she cooed, you can call me a whiney whore. We both know who is the only one working whenever we see someone that bedazzles you.

Snorting at her, you made your way towards the lounge.

Friday isn't even lighting up the corridors.

The distant roar of thunder was unsettling and the patter of raindrops over the glass part of the roofs and walls did not help when you strained your ears for the slightest of discord.

From the edge of the doorway, the kitchenette seemed empty under that faint blue hue of lights under the slabs that lit up for the nightcrawlers looking for water in the wee hours of the night or early mornings. Many times a couple of them have scared each other for looking like ghosts under that dull blue glow.

The sofas were vacant as well, painted in colours being thrown in their direction from the big screen that you very well remember turning off the moment Steve had dragged a very reluctant Scott and Bucky out and not letting them watch the last fifteen minutes of The Witcher finale.

Maybe I didn't turn it off.

Maybe the ghost likes Geralt of Rivia, your inner voice called out. Or Yennefer, if they're adventurous.

Thump!

You jumped where you stood, the grip on that trophy tight. The noise had come from the dorms followed by a low grunt.

Casper doesn't grunt like an a-an angry demon.

The sweat collecting on your back was now making a trail down your spine, adding a chill when the cold wind brushed itself against you, coming from a door left unlocked or a window left open.

You know what, you breathed in, fuck this. If this is how I die, I'll at least be haunting my own family.

You started walking silently in the lounge, turning to walk towards the dorms where light filtered out through a partially opened door.

What if it's not a ghost, your inner voice tilted her metaphorical head in innocence, what if it's an intruder. A man at that.

You stopped five feet short of that door, everything going blank at the worst words your insides could've have spoken.

I...should hide then. Right?

You were about to turn around when you heard muffled footsteps come from the end of the corridor and the doorknob to Scott's door suddenly twist to be opened with a ghastly creak.

Cursing in a muted rhythm, you dashed inside the very room you were trying to avoid- which was your own.

Two huge strides and you were skidding on the other side of the bed, clearly missing the candles kept on a table right in the centre of your room. Wait what, your adrenaline-induced brain shot itself out to bring back the frames you missed.

Before the ten thousand four hundred and seventy-one theories could take a better form inside your head, the door to your room let out a groan, stopping your heart.

You laid yourself on your stomach to be as much out of the view of the intruder as you could.

The door clicked close. Footsteps walked away from it towards the centre. A sigh followed.

It is an intruder.

Your veins wanted to freeze over. Your heart was already shouting 'NOPE' and your inside wanted to come out.

A ruffle made you slide a little to peek from the corner of the bedside. A figure stood with its back to you in a black trenchcoat, unbuttoning the fabric tortured by the rain.

He's distracted, your inner voice shouted from your shoulder, now's our chance.

On your knees, you stepped out, positioning yourself low right behind him.

Gloved hands brought the cap of the trenchcoat down before going for the shoulder shrug to remove it.

Now!

Raising your weapon of choice over your head, you aimed for the loose strands of raven hair that suddenly were turning away to bring forth green eyes watching you in horror as cold pale hands blocked your attack- but not your rage-filled shriek- and forced you halfway over the bed.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

Loki's hands still held you down, his wet strands gracing your fear-burned cheeks with water droplets.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! You are supposed to be out on a mission with the rest right now?!"

Your voice shook but the anger you were feeling could be seen in your eyes by the God.

"Leave that," Loki commanded, pointing to the trophy still in your hands.

"No!" you spat back. You couldn't. The shock had frozen your hold.

"I said leave it."

"No!!"

"Were you really going to use it on me?"

"Of course I was going to use it on you!" you scoffed and raised the fiery embers just a smidge in your tone. "I was going for the spot and wanted to make sure you were shivering on your knees when I was done."

"Oh my God," a tired voice came from outside your door, making you both dilute the confusion and fire to look in that direction.

"I go out for five minutes to find ribbons and flowers and this is what I get back to. Give me a fucking break!"

You furrowed your brows at the door.

"Is...is that-"

"Yeah," Loki answered, never taking his eyes off the door, which clicked open with an annoyed Clint entering the space.

"Why do you guys have to talk like that during normal stuff," he mumbled, closing the door, "do you know how many times you've given me a heart atta-"

He stopped short. His eyes absorbing you lying halfway on the bed with Loki over you, his hands wrapped around yours, keeping your arms over your head while his legs locked yours in place. What was worse for the man was you looking at him with suspicion.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

"She tried to blow me."

Clint's eyes went three times wider, his jaw on the verge of falling.

"You were supposed to be out! I thought you were an intruder, you idiot!!"

Clint's hand came up as a sign to apply the breaks at this entire conversation.

"You thought he was an intr-oh ohh OH!!! Okay." He finally breathed, trying to feel his heart by placing his hand on his chest. "It's okay. It's okay."

"Now, am I an intruder?" He asked you, his eyes going soft, his hold loose.

"...no," you replied softly, letting go of the hold on the trophy.

Placing his knee on the edge of the bed, he pushed himself up, bringing you with him by your hand.

"Why didn't you guys tell me you were here? I nearly shat my pants!"

Loki and Clint exchanged a look, clearly hurting you for not knowing what was going on.

Clint sighed, lowering his head.

"Well, you weren't supposed to know till the next-" Loki looked down at the watch on his wrist- "twenty minutes. We were supposed to take you somewhere."

"Where? And why?"

Loki stepped aside to show you a small mountain of gift-wrapped boxes kept on the table in the middle with a balloon tied to the one at the top- the floating green thing spelling out a very obvious greeting.

Loki smiled at the unadulterated shock rushing over your face as your eyes grew wide and a muted gasp left your parted lips.

"Happy birthday."

[linebreaker]

Birthmark

Also on AO3.

Warnings: light angst; brief mentions of past violence; mentions of past discorporation; discussions of historical anti-Semitism and violence against Jewish people.

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Aziraphale first noticed the mark one morning when Crowley was puttering around the kitchen. The buttery sunlight was filtering through the herbs in the cottage window and fat bees were bumbling about outside, bumping against the glass in their search for flowers.

Crowley had just awoken from one of his week-long naps and stumbled out into the kitchen. Aziraphale regarded him over his reading glasses. He looked soft and sleep-worn, red hair flattened charmingly on one side. His yellow eyes were half-lidded and he was rubbing at one of them with his knuckles.

“Coffee?” he grunted.

“Afraid there’s nothing fresh, dear, but I can—” Crowley flapped his hands at him when Aziraphale went to snap his fingers.

“No, no, no. No. I can get it,” he muttered and then promptly banged his hip against the table corner as he made for the kettle. “Shit!”

Aziraphale huffed out a breath of laughter. “If you insist. That’s what you get for doing it the hard way.”

“It doesn’t taste the same when it’s miracled.”

Looking no more alert—but decidedly more aggravated—than he had before, Crowley went about preparing the kettle. Aziraphale’s morning paper was open in front of him, but it was mostly for show now. He enjoyed watching the demon do mundane things like cook and tend to his garden, so he took ample time to glance up and observe between each line he read.

—carry out services themselves rather than employ private firms, the chancellor has said. John McDonnell said he—

Crowley was still in his sleep clothes. He normally kept to his waistcoats and jackets and sinful trousers, but he’d been noticeably more lax in his apparel over the last few months of their retirement. Aziraphale didn’t mind.

—wants to limit the outsourcing of services such as bin collections by obliging councils to run them—

His loose-fitting pyjama bottoms were slung low on his hips. The long-sleeved grey shirt he wore looked soft, its collar wide enough to drape aside and expose a portion of the demon’s shoulder. Aziraphale let his eyes trace along his skin, forming constellations out of the freckles there.

—when existing private contracts expire. Cleaning and school dinners could also be taken back under the plans. The government—

Crowley was barefoot. As he filled the kettle, Aziraphale watched his toes curl against the tile. He rocked up onto the pads of his feet, exposing their delicate arches briefly, before settling again.

—said decisions should be left with local councils. The Confederation of British Industry said Labour’s proposal was “an extreme move devoid of evidence yet—

He managed to get the kettle on without further incident and turned to rest against the counter. With his back to the window, the morning light streamed in around like a halo, silhouetting him. Dust motes drifted lazily through the beams of sunlight.

—dripping in dogma.” In a speech on Saturday, Mr. McDonnell said outsourced contracts were costly and lacked accountability as decisions—

“What’re you looking at, angel?” Crowley asked when he glanced up again. The sunlight made it hard to see his face, but Aziraphale thought he sounded amused.

He smiled and, heart stuttering, answered, “You.”

Crowley froze momentarily. Aziraphale watched as his entire frame went rigid, his edges rippling like a mirage in the desert, before he relaxed again. He scoffed and grumbled something incomprehensible, then turned away again.

Something small and fragile unfurled in Aziraphale’s chest like a blooming flower. He smiled to himself and went back to his paper.

It wasn’t much longer before the kettle started whistling. Crowley moved to take it off the flame and go about preparing his coffee. It was while he was reaching to retrieve (see: steal) Aziraphale’s novelty angel mug off of the top shelf that his shirt rode up to reveal a band of skin. Aziraphale’s eyes were drawn briefly to the divots at the base of the demon’s spine, a little thrill running through him at the sight of them.

Then he noticed the mark.

It was a swath of skin—paler than that which surrounded it, a small swirl of white—that sat just above the jut of Crowley’s hip. Aziraphale squinted, but the shirt fell down and obscured it from view before he could get a decent look.

“Crowley, what is that?”

“Hm?” He was distracted adding heaps of instant coffee to his mug. Personally, Aziraphale detested the stuff, but Crowley was unaccountably attached. Probably because he’d had a hand in inventing it. “What’s what?”

“That mark—there, on your side.”

Crowley finished his preparations and took a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Then he seemed to take in Aziraphale’s question. He paused, rim of the mug pressed against his mouth, and blinked his reptilian eyes at him. “Huh?”

Aziraphale scowled at him as he made his way over to the table—he had a feeling that the demon was being deliberately obtuse. “What is that mark? I don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

Crowley looked bemused as he took his seat across from Aziraphale, mug firmly clutched between his palms. “Never seen it before? You’ve seen me without my clothes on, angel.”

He lifted one eyebrow suggestively and Aziraphale felt his face go hot. Images flashed through his mind—Crowley beneath him, his sweat-slicked thighs up around Aziraphale’s hips, his body arching up like a bow and his slitted pupils blown wide as he came—and he quickly looked away.

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat and focused on folding his paper for a moment. “I was rather preoccupied at the time.”

When he glanced up again, he noticed that Crowley was sporting a lopsided grin and there was a rather fetching shade of pink staining his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Aziraphale huffed and rolled his eyes. “You know perfectly well that I was, you wicked thing, so stop trying to distract me. What is that mark?” he asked again, pulling off his reading glasses and pointing them at the demon. He knew he sounded petulant, but he was terribly curious.

Crowley’s grin faded slowly, an ember burning out until it curled black and lifeless at the corner of his mouth. He shrugged and the wide neck of his shirt draped further down his shoulder. “That mark’s the reason I hate the 14th century.”

Aziraphale, whose gaze had been inextricably drawn to the gentle slope of demonic clavicle that was now on display, blinked and looked back up into his eyes. “What?”

“Well,” Crowley quickly amended, “it’s the main reason, anyway.”

“I thought you once told me that you hated the 14th century because of the Papal Schism?” Aziraphale asked.

“That was certainly part of it, yes,” he confirmed and took a sip of coffee. He looked more alert now. The soft, sleep-mussed air that hung around him after his naps was quickly dissipating. “As well as that Hundred Year War thing and The Plague.”

“As I recall, those were both terrible things that you took credit for,” Aziraphale reminded him with a quirked eyebrow. As much as Crowley seemed to despise the 14th century, it hadn’t been all fun-and-games for Aziraphale, either. Three simultaneous popes, millions dead, revolts and uprisings—it was all enough to make an angel crazy.

“Yes,” Crowley whined, slumping forward in his seat dramatically. “It was full of terrible things and I was terribly busy.”

“Oh, well, you poor dear.”

Crowley scoffed. “Angel, I get the distinct impression that your sympathy is not entirely genuine.”

“My sympathy for devils—you or otherwise—is limited, but I do genuinely adore you, so do with that as you will.”

“I shall,” Crowley said with an absurd waggle of his eyebrows. Aziraphale’s stomach swooped and he rolled his eyes with a fond tolerance.

“Crowley,” he said mildly and tried again. “The mark on your side?”

The demon’s bright yellow eyes regarded him over the top of his mug and, for the first time, Aziraphale could see weary resignation in them. It suddenly struck him how difficult Crowley was making this. A frisson of worry ran down his spine.

“Is—is there something you don’t want me to know? I mean, if so—” he hastened to say when Crowley’s mouth opened. “—that’s perfectly fine. We don’t have to tell each other everything. I just—Well, I just thought—”

“It was an exorcist.”

The rest of Aziraphale’s sentence died in his throat. He felt it whither and turn to dust, coating his tongue with bitter ash. He coughed and asked, “I, uh—beg pardon?”

“An exorcist gave me this mark,” Crowley repeated calmly and gestured towards his left side with a nod of his head. He’d put his mug down and was now focused on Aziraphale. “Back in 1349.”

Aziraphale’s mind began to race. 1349? Where did this happen? Italy? It must have been. Wasn’t I in Italy around that time? Why didn’t he call me for help? Unless—no, we still weren’t really considered acquaintances then, were we? Let alone friends. I don’t think The Arrangement was even in place for another few hundred years—

“Stop.”

The gentle command cut through his increasingly distressed train of thought and Aziraphale jerked in his seat. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and blinked up at Crowley. At some point, he had gotten up and come around to stand beside Aziraphale’s chair, half-sitting on the edge of the table.

“W-what?” he asked, thrown by the demon’s sudden proximity and still reeling from his confession. An exorcist. Why would—

“I said stop.”

Aziraphale blinked. Crowley crossed his arms with a beleaguered sigh and stared down at him. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and Aziraphale’s heart gave a squeeze at the dusting of light freckles he could see across his skin.

“I know your brain,” Crowley said. “I know it’s going hell for leather right now trying to figure everything out and I’m sure you’ve somehow managed to blame yourself.”

Aziraphale swallowed and looked away, his eyes lowering to study the wood grain of the table.

“Angel, we weren’t even friends back then,” Crowley said in exasperation, echoing his earlier thoughts. Aziraphale looked back up at him. “You thinking that you were in some way responsible for a run of bad luck I had nearly 700 years ago is just your—” He stammered briefly, jostling his shoulders like he was trying to knock the right words loose. “—angelic guilt or whatever.”

“You saved me more times than I can count and I couldn’t even—”

“I saved myself,” Crowley insisted.

Aziraphale swallowed around the lump in his throat. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he said softly, heart fluttering like a wounded bird within the cage of his ribs.

Crowley made one of his incoherent little noises and then turned away, casting his angular features into profile. The corner of his mouth was pulled down in a frown, jaw grinding back and forth. Aziraphale wanted to reach out to him—to press love in the shape of fingerprints into his warm skin. However, he didn’t think his touch would be well-received at the moment.

Instead, he asked, “Will you tell me about it?”

Crowley looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeming to consider him. “I think it’ll just upset you,” he finally said.

“I’m afraid that ship has sailed, my dear,” Aziraphale told him. His throat squeezed around the words as he spoke them, rasping against them until they were little more than a whisper. “Please tell me.”

The sigh that passed Crowley’s lips was an ancient thing—something he’d been carrying around for nearly a millennium in his chest. He rolled his neck back and forth. Then he said, “It was in Basel.”

“Switzerland?” Aziraphale asked, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t Switzerland at the time, but the sentiment is the same. That’s where it happened. Y-you remember how, after The Black Plague, there were—well, um, there was a lot of hatred towards the Jewish community?”

Aziraphale nodded once, a grim set to his mouth. “I remember,” he said. “The pogroms.”

The Jewish Black Death massacres. They’d started up in 1348 as a result of the plague sweeping across Europe and had lasted for a few years. Christians killing Jews because they thought they were somehow responsible for the disease that had ravaged the continent—that they had invoked the wrath of God or were poisoning the well water. Ridiculous, Aziraphale thought viciously.

Crowley uncrossed his arms so that he could gesticulate while he spoke. “Right. It was a crazy time; everyone was dying and people wanted someone to blame.”

“They usually do,” Aziraphale said without humor. He reached across the table for Crowley’s abandoned coffee, brushing his arm against the demon’s hip. “Human nature.”

“There’s nothing natural about wanting to wipe out an entire race or religion.”

“I don’t disagree.” He took a tentative sip of the coffee and grimaced, quickly holding it out to Crowley. “That is terrible,” he coughed, smacking his lips to try ridding himself of the burnt flavor.

“You just don’t have my exquisite taste,” Crowley sighed, taking the mug out of his hand. His fingertips slid across Aziraphale’s knuckles and an involuntary shiver ran up the angel’s spine. “Anyway, that’s what I was doing in Basel. My people had sent me there a few days before the massacre—I didn’t want to be there and I didn’t have anything to do with the previous pogroms in Savoy or Erfurt or Toulon, really. I think they just assumed I had.”

Aziraphale believed him. Though Crowley had definitely softened during the course of their 6000 year acquaintance, he had never seemed the type to tempt people into mass-slaughter. He was more the inconvenience-people-into-sinning kind of demon. He’d said so himself that, many times, the humans basically took care of the big stuff themselves. No tempting needed.

“And Basel is where you met the, uh, exorcist?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mm-hm,” Crowley mumbled, staring down into his mug with pursed lips. “And, really, I use the term exorcist extremely loosely. He wasn’t what I would consider a professional by any means. I think he just got lucky.”

What Aziraphale wanted to say was that, if the man had truly been an amateur, maybe it was Crowley who had gotten lucky. He bit his tongue, though. Crowley’s posture was hunched, defensive—his shoulders curled forward and his back bowed. His eyes had a distant, vaguely haunted look to them. So Aziraphale swallowed down his anxiety and waited.

Eventually, Crowley blinked like he was coming out of a trance and looked over at him. His yellow irises were blown out, encompassing his eyes. “He got me the day after the riot. There was still ash in the air from, um—from where the townspeople had locked the adults up and set the building on fire. There were kids that the Christians were forcibly converting and I was—I had been drinking. I just, uh—” Crowley paused. Took a breath. “I just don’t like it when they get kids involved.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, infinitely gentle.

“Anyway, I think my—my glasses slipped and he saw my eyes or—I dunno, he smelled sulphur on me or something—”

You don’t smell like sulphur, Aziraphale thought, but didn’t dare interrupt. You smell like frankincense.

“—but I p-passed out or he knocked me out and the next thing I remember is that I was strung up somewhere. It was dark and smelled like—like hay and shit. Probably a barn. He, uh . . .”

Crowley trailed off, looking away again. He was running his nails along the rim of his mug, filling the silence with a low, chittering resonance that set Aziraphale’s teeth on edge. He longed to reach out and lay his hands over Crowley’s—to still them and imbibe some comfort. He linked his fingers together on the tabletop instead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in an even tone, trying to sound as though he wasn’t crawling out of his skin.

Crowley’s eyes skittered back over to him. Tension was evident in the set of his jaw and the stark whiteness of his knuckles where he gripped his mug. “Do you want to hear about it?”

Aziraphale frowned, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He’d been present at an exorcism before. Rome, around the turn of the 19th century. He’d stood back and observed as two Catholic priests attempted to drive the demon Leraje from the body of a young woman.

It had laughed and snarled threats, and Aziraphale had felt its opalescent eyes rake over him. Then Father Cancio had begun chanting his Latin phrases and Father D’Agostino had thrown blessed oils and holy water in its face. The demon’s skin had split and steamed, blisters forming over blisters as Leraje writhed and shrieked. Its dirty fingers had gouged marks into the arms of the chair it was tied to, blood pooling along its cuticles as the nails snapped off, its joints buckling. It bit off the woman’s tongue—spat it onto the floor at their feet—and blood had boiled in its mouth as it shouted obscenities at them.

It had lasted for hours. In the end, Leraje had been exorcised and the woman had died in the chair. Aziraphale could still smell the blood; could still hear her skin sizzling under the holy water.

Then he imagined Crowley in Leraje’s place and his stomach turned so violently that he nearly threw up.

“I never want to hear about you getting hurt, my dear,” he eventually whispered. “But I am here if you want to—”

Crowley waved a hand, cutting him off. “No, I, uh—I’d rather not discuss the details of that, if it’s all the same to you, angel.”

Aziraphale’s breath left him in a messy rush and he felt lightheaded with relief. He had asked Crowley to tell him. He would listen if the demon wanted to explain what had happened to him during his own exorcism attempt, but Aziraphale would rather peel his own skin off than have those images in his head.

“Of course,” he said, voice weak.

Crowley set his mug down on the table behind him, then folded his arms across his midsection, hands grasping loosely at his own elbows. “In any case, after—after everything, I managed to get loose and kill the silly bugger.”

Good, Aziraphale thought viciously.

“I was in pretty bad shape,” Crowley continued, staring blankly off into the middle distance. There was a fine sheen of sweat glistening at his temple and Aziraphale watched his throat move with a swallow. “I got out of Basel and only just managed to make it to the next town before I collapsed. The exorcist—he didn’t have any holy water, thank Somebody, but he did have this, uh, I dunno—a coin or a pendant. I didn’t get a good look at it. It must’ve been a holy relic or something, because it burned like a blessed sonofabitch; left welts all over that I couldn’t heal.”

Crowley reached down absentmindedly and touched his side where Aziraphale knew the mark to be. “This one was the worst. It got infected and I got a fever. I’m sure you can imagine what that looked like back in 1349.”

A lump of dread settled in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach, poisonous apprehension seeping out into the rest of his body like lead into drinking water. “Like you had the plague.”

Crowley clicked his tongue and said cheerlessly, “Got it in one, angel.”

“What happened?” Aziraphale asked and Crowley sighed wearily.

“The fever wiped me out—put me into a coma, most likely. The townspeople thought I had died, so they buried me in a mass grave with other plague victims—”

“What?” Aziraphale gasped, horrified.

“—and I don’t remember much after that. I discorporated at some point; wound up back in Hell. After lots of paperwork and whatnot, I got back topside around 1378.”

“Y-you discorporated? How—how did I not know that? You, erm—” Aziraphale stopped. Drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to center himself. When he opened them again, he found Crowley’s gaze on him. The yellow of his irises had retreated back to their centers. “You don’t look any different,” he told the demon. “You got—what? A-a copy of your body?”

“Did I mention: lots of paperwork,” Crowley said and Aziraphale was relieved to hear humor in his voice.

“1378?” he asked, then sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just in time for the Papal Schism, I see.”

“Three popes are three too many, angel.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said lightly, letting a small smile pull at his mouth. Then he amended, “In this case.”

Crowley chuckled and the pressure seemed to ease off of his shoulders, the tension that had gathered around him like graveyard mist breaking apart and abating. The soft morning sun had transformed his hair into a coppery halo; it caressed his face, highlighting the delicate lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale watched him for a few moments, then asked hesitantly, “And, um—the mark was, uh, still there when you—when you came back?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “It was the only one. Everything else hadn’t left so much as a scar, but this one—it stayed. Dunno why. Maybe because it was the deepest wound or maybe because it was the one that eventually discorporated me. Or maybe Hell just left it there as a reminder when they remade my body.”

“A reminder?”

Crowley shrugged, the loose nonchalance he was trying to affect ruined by the way his eyes flitted away from Aziraphale’s face. “A reminder that I’m weak or—or maybe reliant on them?”

Aziraphale ached for him. His heart was a crushing weight in his chest. You aren’t weak, he thought.

He swallowed and lifted a hand towards Crowley, hovering just shy of touching him. “May I see?” he asked in a quiet voice.

There was a moment when he thought that Crowley would refuse; would push himself away from the table and disappear into the bedroom; would hole himself away and sleep for a hundred years. But then Crowley sighed, resigned. He reached down and lifted the edge of his shirt, pivoting slightly so that Aziraphale could view the back of his hip.

The mark was obvious, but Aziraphale let his eyes drag over the rest of Crowley’s golden skin before he examined it. He ran his gaze along the shallow dips between each rib, counted the lumps of his spine. Patches of freckles stood out like tiny galaxies.

“You’re beautiful,” he said absentmindedly. Then he blushed.

Crowley huffed out a laugh, relaxing. “Thank you, angel. You’re not so bad yourself.” Aziraphale looked up at him just in time to catch a cheeky wink. He rolled his eyes.

“You’re also ridiculous.”

“You like me.”

“I certainly do not,” Aziraphale said airily and his heart gave a little flutter when Crowley chuckled. With a smile, he returned to his perusal of the warm skin before him, finally letting himself look at the white mark on Crowley’s side.

It was smaller than Aziraphale had initially thought—no bigger than a two pence—and was almost perfectly round. He suspected that whatever had made the mark had been intricately decorated, but the curving lines it left behind were now blurred and he couldn’t make out any details.

“You didn’t try to miracle this away?” he asked.

“Oh, I did,” Crowley said, sounding resigned. “No good. It’s one scar that I can’t make go away.”

It doesn’t really look like a scar. More like a patch of vitiligo, he thought, reaching up unthinkingly to touch the mark. He laid his fingertips against its edge and Crowley hissed out a shocked breath.

Aziraphale jerked his hand back, distraught. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he stammered. “I-I didn’t—”

“You’re fine,” Crowley said, a slight tremble in his voice. His shirt was still pulled up, but he’d reached down to cover the mark with his own hand, rubbing at it. “Just startled me is all.”

Aziraphale watched him run his fingers along the skin, worry gnawing at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You can touch me, if you want.”

“Well, dear, I always want to touch you,” he said without thinking and with far more levity than he felt. Crowley lifted his eyebrows at him and Aziraphale huffed. “Oh, hush. You’re hardly scandalized.”

Crowley grinned. “Here,” he said with a little sigh and reached over to take ahold of Aziraphale’s hand. His grip was a loose circle around his wrist, fingertips stroking over his pulse point and sending frissons of pleasure up his arm. Crowley pulled and Aziraphale went willingly, his heart in his throat. He let the demon press his palm against the mark, his own fingers smoothing over the back of Aziraphale’s hand before he let go. 

His skin was warm and pliant, and Aziraphale let himself enjoy having it beneath his fingers once again before he really focused on the mark. He ran a thumb along its edge. It was smooth, not raised like he expected a scar to be—more like a birthmark.

And then it struck Aziraphale. That’s exactly what it was: a birthmark. Crowley had been tortured, branded, killed, and then had carried the mark into his new body after his resurrection. A reminder of his failings.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Aziraphale leaned forward. He placed his lips over the mark, sucking a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the white skin. Above him, he heard Crowley hiss in a startled breath. Fingers wove through his hair, caressing his scalp.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, sounding breathless.

He kept his mouth where it was. Using his tongue and teeth and lips, he pressed love and reassurance down into the skin, marking Crowley’s side. The demon’s ragged breaths filled the kitchen and his fingers dragged through Aziraphale’s curls when he pulled back to examine his handiwork. Where the white birthmark had once been, the skin now stood out red and blotchy.

“Did you just give me a hickey?” Crowley asked, sounding equal parts offended and impressed.

“Not really,” Aziraphale said and passed a thumb over the red mark. Angelic power tingled like a static charge as he miracled the erythema away and Crowley gave a little jolt.

“Hey! What did you do?” he huffed and craned his neck to take a look.

Then he froze.

Aziraphale watched him, his pulse thrumming like hummingbird wings in his throat as Crowley touched the skin where the mark had once been. In its place, a mass of dark freckles now stood.

An angel’s kiss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Aziraphale told him, his voice reedy. “I just—I adore you. I worship every inch of you. And if there is a part of you that causes you pain—a mark that reminded you of an event so traumatic you would despise an entire millennium because of it—Well, if I could take that mark away . . .”

Crowley looked up at him, his eyes wide, but said nothing. Aziraphale swallowed down the worry that threatened to choke him and continued.

“You aren’t weak,” he told Crowley. “You are wily and resilient and you care so much. I know that you’re a demon and you don’t want to hear it, but I see so much good in you that naming everything I love would be like counting the stars. I can’t do it. You are made of starlight. I wish that I was half as strong as—”

He didn’t get to finish. Crowley swooped down and caught his mouth in a bruising kiss. Aziraphale gasped into it and reached up to catch ahold of Crowley’s shoulders, hanging on. The demon’s fingers traced over the tops of his ears and down along his jawline as he kissed him, eliciting tiny shivers from Aziraphale.

It lasted only for a few seconds before Crowley retreated, playfully nipping at Aziraphale’s bottom lip as he went, but the angel was left winded. Crowley smiled at him, looking beautifully rumpled, and said, “Thank you, angel.”

It sounded remarkably like I love you, too.

Aziraphale grinned back, relief and happiness pouring out of his bones like sunlight and warming the garden blooming in his chest. His heart pounded. “You’re quite welcome, my dear.”

They spent a few moments quietly regarding one another, Crowley absentmindedly touching his side through his shirt. Then he reached out to Aziraphale, laying a hand against his cheek.

“I,” he said in a gentle voice, drawing out the syllable as he swept a thumb across the skin just beneath Aziraphale’s eye, “am going to take a shower.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Been asleep for a week,” Crowley said by way of explanation. He dropped his hand and pushed himself away from the table. Aziraphale watched him go, eyes drawn to the sway of his hips, and tried not to feel disappointment that Crowley was walking away instead of kissing him.

He sighed and mumbled, “Well then, I suppose I’ll make some tea.”

“Or you could join me?”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. He was standing in the kitchen entrance, leaning heavily against the doorframe. There was a smile on his face, and he looked soft and vulnerable in his too-big shirt and bare feet. Then his eyelids fluttered and his smile morphed into a predatory grin, lips curling up to reveal his straight, white teeth. Arousal dropped into Aziraphale’s stomach like a lead weight; his breath shuddered out of his lungs.

“C’mon, angel,” Crowley said, his voice a deep rumble like the beginnings of a summer storm. “I’ll put marks all over your skin this time.”

Then he disappeared through the doorway, leaving Aziraphale gaping in his wake. The angel sat there for a moment, listening as Crowley moved about on the other side of the small cottage. The shower started up.

Aziraphale thought about Crowley’s naked skin; about steam curling up around his legs and hips and back; about water beading along freckles instead of white birthmarks. He smiled and stood.

The tea could wait.

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Based on the prompt: “Why does Crowley hate the 14th century?” Requested by @needscaffeine. This took FOREVER, as I had to wrestle it to the ground and get it back on track several times.

[aiiizawa]

Cecilia wondered if it was an extended, bad dream.  The sensation of falling all around them— the bright, blue sky being blinding with interspersed clouds of pure white and the blurry form of buildings flying past them.  They were no stranger to dreams about falling out of the sky, or some building.   Almost bored, they closed their eyes and tried to change the dream to something else, maybe even give themselves the ability to fly.  

…

……

………

That wasn’t working. 

In a flash, Cecilia opened their eyes and tried to look around.  How fast were they falling?  How close was the ground??  How could this happen when they lived on the GROUND FLOOR of a house with NO SECOND STORY— Cecilia was going to scream,definitely, but the sensation changed almost immediately.  What was once the rush of cold air flying behind them was now being shielded, and they gently opened one of their eyes hesitantly.

“Worry not, my young friend!!  I am here!!”

A booming, familiar voice.  This face…. Long, blonde hair…bright blue eyes nearly eclipsed by the strong bone structure of his face.

“ALL MIGHT?!”  The accusation came out faster than their brain could stop it.

“YES!””  His answer, brilliant and shining in the sun, took the wind out of them even further.  They stared up at him, mouth hanging agape as he deftly jumped with them to the ground.  Apparently, not the correct response, as he had a brief look of shock on his face, but it disappeared as fast as it came, so they chalked it up to the brightness of the sun around them and their imagination.  A small crowd had appeared around the two of them as All Might gently placed them onto the floor swiftly, placing both of his huge hands on their shoulders.

“Now, my young friend, as much as life may be hard for you-- or perhaps you were merely experimenting with your quirk-- You must value your life!!  It is not to be carelessly thrown away!”  He enunciated these words firmly, eyes boring into theirs as they blinked.  There was a misunderstanding somewhere there, definitely, but they couldn’t seem to find a moment to interject as he continued his well-meaning lecture.  More than likely, they were in a bit of shock.  First of all…that was All Might.  ‘That’ All Might.  The world’s greatest hero, the symbol of peace.... That is, in their favorite shounen manga.  Undeniably, they could feel his hand on their shoulder and his finger wag as he continued, and the way their neck hurt from attempting to look up to him.  Slowly, they tried to look around themselves.  Aside from All Might (surprisingly in his normal clothes), there were several heroes hovering nearby...even some in the sky.  They could read advertisements on the various buildings and hear the speakers announce clearly.

‘Be Free to Be You-- Unique Styles for your Unique Body Type.’

‘QUIRKS ARE DEVELOPING SOONER THAN YOU THINK.  IF YOUR CHILD SHOWS SIGNS OF DEVELOPING THEIR QUIRK, DON’T BE LEFT BEHIND.  QUIRK COUNSELORS IN YOUR AREA ARE SPECIALLY TRAINED TO MAKE SURE THAT YOUR CHILD CAN GO BEYOND’

‘Attention: those trying to commute to the 4th Ward on the train should make alternative arrangements as a recent villain attack has left the tracks unable to be used.  For the time being--’

As their gaze flickered between the various sights, oblivious to the world around them, All Might continued.  “If you have any other problems, please do not hesitate to take advantage of this country’s mental health services!   You have your whole future before you!  Go beyond!!  Plus Ultra!!”  He took a step back, saluted, and went to leap away.

Away.

Hold on--

“W-W-WAIT, DON’T G--”  Cecilia, finally realizing that he would be their best bet to understand things, reached out to stop him, hand outstretched.

“HA HA HA!!  DO TAKE CARE!!”  In a flash that was more powerful than they had thought, even when he had just saved him, he was gone.  Well, fuck.  Cecilia was frozen in place for just a moment, and then turned their attention to the crowd around them that was already dissipating since the attraction, All Might, had just vanished.  A couple of well-meaning people approached, asking if they needed help to a hospital, to which they firmly denied.  An embarrassed flush came to their face, so they bowed quickly and dodged them, walking in a random direction to make more sense of their bearings.  As soon as they had managed to filter in through the crowd and walk a little bit, Cecilia leaned up against the wall in a nearby alleyway.  

First things first, they needed to take stock of what they had on them.  Thankfully, they weren’t in their pajamas or anything...a blessing, since the last thing they remembered was crawling into bed at a late hour.  Simple pair of jeans (with pockets!  That was epic.) and a comfortable shirt that they recognized from their closet that had flowers decorating the front.  Worn tennis shoes, and...they patted their back pocket firmly.  Yes.  Quickly pulling out their phone, they hoped they’d have some information.  However, quickly running through their phone, it was clear it wasn’t the case.  No apps, except for an unnamed app that resembled the original internet browser and the notepad.  They didn’t think it was possible to have a phone like this; they never messed with it in this fashion.  At first, the thought did come across that perhaps their phone had been switched, but the telltale crack in the screen protector…the case and phone holder that they chose specifically together...there was no way it wasn’t their phone.  Idly, they tried to open the browser, but even then...nothing. ‘BAD GATEWAY’ was written in bold, dark letters each time they tried to reset.  Heaving a sigh, they decided to shove it back into their pocket rather than waste anymore battery.  For now, they’d just have to keep it in case something DID work.  Now...to figure out what to do now.  They didn’t have their purse, so it wasn’t like they could go anywhere with no money or identification.  Even if they did...the currency was a problem.  Cecilia debated about sitting down and just going ‘fuck it’, but in the end, decided on a random direction and started walking.

Even if the circumstances were the absolute worst, they’d always wanted to go to Japan, so they at least took in the sights.  It was really neat, especially with quirks everywhere, it was hard not to stare.  Naturally colored hair in so many fun colors...they frowned briefly at their reflection.  Would it have been too much to ask for some fucking pink hair without effort?  Everything else was the same.

“Um, excuse me…?  Are you alright?”  A young voice called out to them, and they swiftly turned on their heel to answer.

“Ah, yeah-- I’m fine, sorry, I’ll move.”  Cecilia bowed quickly and shuffled to the side.  The young man put his hands out in refusal.

“Oh no!  I just...recognized you from the article.  You just got rescued by All Might, right?  I saw you wandering around and-- Not that I was stalking or following you or anything!!  But you seemed confused and I wanted to know if you needed help to the hospital or anything--”  He stammered as Cecilia stared at him.

Green hair.  Not just any green hair, a very special, curly head of green hair…and freckles…

Wait a minute--  Cecilia recognized him immediately.  It took a minute because he wasn’t in the U.A. uniform, but that couldn’t have been anyone but Izuku Midoriya.  Looking down at his black gakuran, could it be?  Putting the clues from All Might’s appearance earlier, they must have been put in the very beginning of the story.  Made sense.  However…

Cecilia blinked.  If he was right here and wanted to take them to the hospital…he wouldn’t have his interaction with the sludge villain that let him meet All Might.  The thought sent a chill down their spine.  Absolutely fucked, they couldn’t let that happen.  Cecilia needed a plan, fast, and thankfully, there was always ol’ reliable.

Lying.

“Hey, you’re, uhhhhh, Midoriya-kun?  Yes?”  They asked him, tilting their head slightly.  Midoriya blinked rapidly in shock, round eyes widening.

“H-Huh?  How do you know my name?”  He asked incredulously.  He looked a little bit suspicious, but more shocked than anything else.

“I live in your apartment complex!  I’m really new, both to this country and to the city;”  Not a lie.  Technically.  “I didn’t recognize you until just now!   Unfortunately, you’re right.  I am a bit lost, but I just wanted to get home.  Would you mind walking me there?”  They flashed him their best smile, putting forth what they hoped was a trustworthy and slightly embarrassed face.  He thought for a moment, and then immediately nodded.

“O-Oh!  Of course!  I had heard that someone had moved in earlier, what a coincidence!”  He laughed brightly, bowing.  “I’m Izuku Midoriya.  I live with my mother-- Well, you probably already met her already if you know me.”  He stuck his hand out with a friendly smile and they grinned and introduced themselves as they shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Midoriya-kun.”  Cecilia smiled, nodding once and then returning their hands to their pockets.  “Lead the way, sir.”

They felt a little bit bad that they were having a child lead them into what they fully knew was danger on a full and blatant lie...but that would be a problem for Midoriya after he had his fated encounter with All Might.  After that...it’d be fine.

Probably.  He was a forgiving child.

“So you just graduated middle school, huh?  Wow, you must be really excited to start high school.  What school are you aiming for?”  They asked conversationally as they walked.  For the most part, even though he was TERRIBLY shy and only called them by their last name despite asking for him not to, he was pretty talkative.  

“I-- I want to go to U.A!  It might be silly of me, especially after everything that happened today, but…”  he sighed.  “It’s all I want to do, even though I’m quirkless.”  Cecilia nodded along.

“Of course, of course.  I get you, Midoriya-kun.  Don’t worry.  I know you’re gonna be a great hero, no matter what.  After all, you saw me lost and approached me.  The kind of person who can’t leave troubled people alone, I think, is a good candidate for a hero.”

They might have been a little biased, though.  He grinned bashfully, happy to be praised by an adult.  “Thank you, Love-san.  I really appreciate that…”  He scratched behind his neck.  “I’ve been feeling really discouraged recently, so thank you for believing in me, even though we’ve just met.”

Oops.  Cecilia laughed it off nervously.  “Well, you know, I’m an American.  We tend to say whatever’s on our mind!”  At that, they launched into a discussion (read: Midoriya infodumping) about All Might’s time in America.  It was very informative, even though it was hard for them to understand a lot of it with how fast he was speaking.  Mostly, he seemed content to have someone listen to him, so they did just that and tried to keep watch on where the sludge villain would finally come.  After the fourth underpass they walked under, they were starting to wonder if maybe their appearance had fucked up the timeline.  Taking a quick minute, they rubbed their temple gently.

Noticing they stopped, Midoriya turned and looked back concernedly.  They opened their eyes to tell him it was nothing, but stopped, suddenly making eye contact with the grate bubbling at their feet.

“Love-san...?”  He asked.  His eyes were so wide, and then, the manhole cover seemed to explode. A disgusting, creeping feeling crawled up their leg.

“Two disguises?  What a wonderful day I’m having, especially after having just run into that man here…”  Disgusting, cold, sticky.  They tried to kick him off but it was no use.  Midoriya ran running to their aid, even as he was also being ‘tried on for size.’

“You’re a little too short, so I don’t think I’ll bother with you...but I can’t have you running off to the cops.”  The viscous, amorphous fluid flowed freely into their mouth, leaving a rancid taste behind.  At this point, they couldn’t even see Midoriya, who was still trying desperately to save them even as his own airway was being blocked.

Maybe it was their karma for lying to him and getting him to follow them?  That sure would be a kick in the head.  Even with their eyes closed, a deeper, darker blackness was coming over them.  They hoped All Might would come here soon, damn it…They didn’t want to die for nothing.

“Have no fear, my boy!”

That voice, once again.  All of a sudden, a huge, unrelenting pressure from a different direction that seemed to force the villain out of their body.  As they sunk to their knees, and then flat on their face, they just barely saw him do the same to Midoriya.  Cecilia had just one thought.

Fucking finally.

It had been a hell of a day.

[murfeelee]

Alright, I’ve been talking about The Witcher TV show for months and months, and now I’ve FINALLY seen it.

I've skimmed through the books here and there, but really I’m a diehard fan of the video games, particularly The Witcher 3 (I’ve played TW1 and TW2 as well). Because of all the hype, attention and love the TW3 got over the years, with even Henry Cavill being a major fan of the video games, Netflix went and made this tv show, with Cavill as Geralt of Rivia, The Witcher.

MY THOUGHTS

It was GOOD! \(^0^)/ I really liked it!

Alright, don’t get excited, I think this show had some serious problems. But we’ll start with the good before getting to the bad and the ugly.

THE GOOD

THE ACTING

Everyone was top notch, and did a fantastic job. I freaking LOVE Grandma Calanthe, omg. I wanted more of her, and Mama Tissaia, and the different sorceresses (when Sodden started I was like hooo boy, I know how this goes; the finale is WORTH the price of admission, folks).

I even liked Eclipse-Princess (her name escapes me, my bad; I was calling her Arya 2.0 in my head). Don’t think I effing missed how they threw in a nod to the Eclipse Princess from Blood & Wine; that was awesome, featuring the Black Sun “curse” again.

I already knew I was gonna HAVE to tune in to see Yennefer’s story, and it was every bit as superb as I suspected it would be. Dare I say it was THE most interesting story arc of the three? Caught me tearing up a few times. I still don’t see book/game/Polish Yennefer with her, but she did a GREAT job, nonetheless--her emotions and delivery and everything was excellent.

She sounds so dang young though, which throws me off with the timeline, cuz when exactly does Yenn’s story take place in all of this? It’s hard to match her with the more...well....matronly/mature persona we’re more familiar with in the games. But I guess she develops that over time, after getting to raise Ciri. Though this does put in better perspective why she was so mean to Ciri at first, calling her ugly and everything. She wanted a child so badly, and Geralt just...gets one by surprise, and she was feeling bitter, I see it now.

THE ACTION

And I gotta give it to Cavill. Boy can MOVE. My favorite moments with Cavill were when he was sword fighting; whoever choreographed all that needs a frikkin award. I imagined the Butcher of Blaviken just tearing up mofos, and that’s exactly what we got. And he was WERKING them pants! XD

Except we never really saw my favorite sign, Igni. Oh well. And I hate that he doesn’t have cat eyes. And the Toxicity ISTG makes him look like a vampire and makes no effing sense, but whatevs.

And sometimes he was sounding WAY too Batman or demonic with this really deep and gravelly voice -- I appreciate that he was trying to give us that gruff and sandpaper dry video game Geralt, but when they’d make him yell or be mad I was like JFC NOT TODAY SATAN. But an attempt was made, and I appreciate it. ^_^ He was fine for the most part. More than fine, even. As I said, the acting & action was great, and they played to Cavill’s strengths.

THE SPECIAL EFFECTS

I also thought the CGI was fine--not the best, no, but I’ve seen way worse in shows with bigger budgets. The dragons...eh.... And that kikimore.... Well, I’m just remembering the Polish tv show, the Hexer--BIG improvement. Trust me. O_O The practical effects were excellent. Even though they messed around A LOT with the Striga plot from TW1, and what it looked like, I did like that they stayed pretty faithful to the fight. 

THE STORIES & CHARACTERS

IMO, the best episode was E04, with Pavetta & Duny. It was just REALLY well done, and the one I was LEAST expecting. My favorite episode was E06, with the dragon, because of course. Reminded me of Hercules the Legendary Journeys, IDKY. The finale was really good, too; I love the sorceresses and all the magic. And E07 when all the plots and flashbacks come together was great.

And now for MY COMPLAINTS

THE BAD

#1) OMG WTF WAS UP WITH THE TIMELINE?

I feel BAD for anyone who’s watching this show fresh, who’s never played the games, read the books, seen the Polish Hexer tv show, played Gwent, or anything related to the Witcher world.

I was thrown off several times, as they shot from Ciri running for her life or Geralt fighting a Striga in the present time; to Yennefer learning magic in the past. Geralt & Dandelion go on adventures Shrek & Donkey style--I ASSUMED in the present, with the Sylvan, Djinn & Dragon, until an episode or two later they’re in Cintra together in the PAST, and Ciri’s not even born yet, and we’re seeing a drunk Ermion/Mousesack and young Crach an Craite (I squeed, my dad~!! His accent was on point!), and Ciri’s mom and grandma. (And WOW, the lady they got to play the mom looks just like the actress playing Ciri--are they related?)

And they do this over and over again over the episodes--present day with Ciri, eff knows when with Geralt or Yennefer. Especially since you know from the books/games that they’re both almost 100 years old. Yenn keeps throwing out “it’s been decades“ this and “years” that. But W H E N though!?!

I mean, I could follow along, sure, but they REALLY needed to make it clearer SOONER for people who have NO idea who TF these people or which kingdoms are which, that some things are happening YEARS apart from each other. Pay attention to how many times GoT shoved those maps of Westeros and Essos in our faces. Or how different shows use color filters for flashbacks or something. Properly situate the audience in time AND space--we’re not Cirilla, who can travel willy nilly between both. They bounced back and forward between past and present with the toss of a frikkin coin.

And speaking of coins...

#2) THE MUSIC WAS...Well.

Oh, Dandelion. XD

Anyone who knows me knows I fangirl HARD over the Witcher video game OSTs. And unfortunately, the music on the tv show was just...alright. :\ And for a franchise so closely connected to iconic music like the band Percival, it’s a crime against nature that the tv show never had a single track that made me go YES. Give it up for POLAND. The end credits song is okay, but I only started getting into it at like Episode 6, soooo... :\

And no, I didn’t like Toss A Coin to Your Witcher in this show. It didn’t sound like part of this medievalesque universe AT ALL, but something kinda pop/country, aimed at I don’t even know who. Sure, the dude playing Dandelion can sing. But so can Ed Sheeran, and when GoT got him to sing on the show, he sure AF didn’t bust out with the next Billboard Top 40 on us in the middle of nowhere.

#3) THE CHARACTER BONDING?

The acting was top notch...it was the plot/writing I didn’t like. Or rather, the relationships between the characters. I felt more for Yennefer & Istredd, and Geralt & Roach, and Ciri & the Elf boy (and her grandma), and even Pavetta & effing Duny/Emhyr (that royal piece of sh!te) than I did for any other characters on this whole show. And that’s a bit of a problem.

First off, I HATED how they made it seem that TEENAGED Ciri had no idea who TF Geralt was. TV Ciri’s gotta be what? 15? Geralt said something about it having been 12 years since Pavetta & Duny, but even that’s too old. Book!Ciri met Geralt IN the Brokilon or whatever forest with all the water drinking and the dryad queen and mess.

They were already obsessed with each other before the fall of Cintra even happened! Ciri was like 10 already when Geralt took Ciri to Kaer Morhen to start her Witcher training, but this girl on the show’s way older, and effing clueless. They don’t even meet til the final few SECONDS, wtf!! It’s just Destiny~! Destiny~! Child of Surprise, but we never even have a scene together~! Destiny~!

Speaking of children, we have Yennefer and Geralt, which was better, but again, WOAH with the pacing. I felt effing BAD for Istredd! :( I don’t really GET why Geralt & Yenn fell so hard for each other; I don’t really feel that connection. Geralt had just as much bonding time with that eclipse-princess! They only had the Djinn episode, really, and by the end of the Dragon episode it was already over!

I mean, yeah, in the books/game they have A LOT of ups and downs, but come on; we’ve already wasted so much time on Geralt & Triss (that homewrecking wench, I’m glad her airtime was minimal), and I just want more BAMF battle couple parents Geralt & Yenn raising Ciri already! >_<

Same with Geralt & Dandelion. Geralt’s kinda mean to him, which is fair; Geralt hates everyone. But I don’t feel where they’re friends at all, and they part at the end of the season on NOT great terms. I kinda feel Geralt doesn’t really like Dandelion at all. :( Even with the whole comedic relief Shrek schtick,

THE UGLY

#4) THE LENGTH

I dunno what’s up with all the 8 episode miniseries lately (GoT, Mandalorian, Witcher, etc), but it REALLY isn’t enough to really flesh out a story. Especially not one as convoluted as The Witcher, AKA the GoT of Poland.

Again, I REALLY feel for the casuals watching, who probably don’t know what the Conjunction of Spheres Istredd keeps referring to is, or what exactly a Witcher is, or why Ciri’s so dang special -- was Lara Dorren or the Elder Blood ever even MENTIONED???

We know Yenn’s got elf blood, but it’s waaaay more than that with Ciri -- though I don’t think they mentioned her elf blood, either, just that Calanthe’s grandmother or someone had their Banshee powers before Pavetta & Ciri.

BTW, wtf with Ermion/Mousesack? That’s gotta be a red herring or something. Cuz we know this dude’s old AF and thriving in Skellige, sooo....? TF. Why the Doppler? Why?

TBH this felt like Season 1A, if anything. I don’t feel the plot really progressed much at all, other than us getting Yennefer’s story. Ciri & Geralt finally meet (cliffhanger supreme right there), but jfc this felt like a prequel -- so much of the season was dedicated to backtracking us in a roundabout way up to the fall of Cintra, then skipping ahead to the Battle at Sodden Hill.

And why the heck did they wait so long to get to get to Vigelfortz!? That’s what I was sitting here WAITING for! You mean I gotta wait for Season TWO to see my Hanse in full force!? :( URGH. Reeeeeeeegiiiiiiiis~! :(

Maybe cut out some of the unnecessary nudity every frikkin where and tell the full frikkin story, hmm? (Yenn’s boobs look great, we got it the first 5 times. Meanwhile these cowards won’t even have a dude’s left testicle be shown on screen, but whatever.)

So yeah, those are my 4 biggest complaints.

Well, and that wig’s hard AF hair line, jfc.(I was DYING during the Pavetta & Duny scene, when Cavill was holding on to that wig for dear life. XD XD)

Otherwise, I really liked the show! B+!

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [3]

masterlist

Words: 8.9k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: blood, decapitation (yikes), violence

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: here ya go ya peach heads! pls engoy & I would luv to hear any feedback you have for me! 

“…and then he tried fighting with swords, but he would either completely shatter the blade or the handle would fall off!” Tae was laughing so hard while he told the story that he fell on his side, clutching his stomach.

“Don’t forget the time he threw the knife behind him instead of at the target when I tried to teach him!” Hoseok chimed in.

“I-it’s not-it wasn’t that bad!” The male of subject tried to defend his actions before looking to you with pleading eyes. “I swear! It wasn’t my fault!”

You tried, you really did, to withhold your laughter for his sake. But one look at Tae rolling on the ground and you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Sounding defeated, he proceeded to whisper, “I would pick them up and they’d just break or go flying on their own.”

“Nope, you’re just a god of destruction. Our leader is too strong!” Tae exclaimed.

He had been explaining why Namjoon was the only one who fought with a mace. Apparently, the other members of the kiela refused to let him fight with sharp weapons because of how clumsy he was. There had been quite a few accidents until they finally got the sense to ban him from anything with a pointy end.

You shot Namjoon a comforting look through your giggles, and the emergence of his dimples showed you that he appreciated the gesture.

Then, looking toward the fire in the middle of the group, you asked, “Jin, are you sure you don’t want any help? I can cook fairly well, you know.”

You had finally met the eldest member of the kiela when you began setting up camp, which consisted of picking a designated sleeping spot and getting a fire rolling. When the Saeni you had yet to meet started chopping up what looked like carrots, celery, and some other familiar ingredients, you had approached to introduce yourself and offer your help. It would be an an understatement to say that your offer had been immediately and forcefully turned down.

Now, the black-haired male shook his head as he tossed another ingredient into the pot over the flames. Once he stirred it into the pot he turned his dark brown eyes to you, his hoop piercings shaking slightly from the sudden movement.

“Ya! I already told you, I’m the caretaker of this kiela, okay?” He shook his spoon at you in what you hoped was fake aggravation. “Just because you’re a female doesn’t mean you can steal my position!”

“I don’t know hyung… Y/N really is a good cook. Maybe you should let her help just a little bit.” Jimin said.

Jin’s jaw dropped. “How dare you Chim!? How dare you betray me like this?” He moved to point the spoon at Jimin’s apricot head and threatened, “Don’t make me smack you!”

“Aish! Calm down. I know you take care of all of us, but...”

“What?” Jin crossed his arms, finger tapping against the wooden spoon.

You quickly muttered, “You’re not my dad…

“Ugly ass fuckin’ noodlehead.” Jimin finished with you, laughing and giving you a high five.

Jin blinked twice before sighing, rolling his eyes, and returning to his steaming pot. The rest of the Saeni gave you both confused looks, obviously not knowing what you referenced.

Poor lads. Living in a world without Vine.

“But seriously Papa Jin, if you ever want or need help, let me know. I would love to give you a hand.”

The male just huffed and continued to stir his food.

“For Exia’s sake, you’re all so loud. Some people are trying to rest,” the lump curled on the ground complained.

“That would only be you, Yoongi.” Tae chuckled.

“Don’t be such a grouchy pants,” added Hoseok, but it lacked any real bite.

You watched as his eyes traveled over Yoongi’s form with an emotion that was quite familiar to you.

Interesting.

“Yeah, well Kookie is over your babbling mouths too.”

You shifted to look at the burgundy-haired male, noting that he was sitting stiffly, eyes on the ground. You realized he hadn’t said a word since Namjoon decided to stop for the day, which had been over an hour ago. His pea green eyes shot up and locked with yours. They narrowed before he stood up and walked into the trees, mumbling about how he wasn’t tired and wanted to go for a walk.

“Kookie’s been acting so weird.” Tae stretched his arms over his grey head and adjusted his headband.

Not necessarily wanting to get into Jungkook and his poopy personality right then, you asked to no Saeni in particular, “Who’s Eshea?”

“Exia.” Namjoon corrected you.

“Exia…?” You slowly said back and grinned when his yellow eyes brightened at your proper pronunciation.

Tae jumped into the conversation. “She’s the goddess of battle and strategy! BTS Saeni tend to pray to her more than the other gods.”

“BTS? Other gods? Jimin told me that Illain is named after Illai, but there are more?”

Hoseok groaned at Tae’s comment. “He has some fixation on calling us BTS Saeni because we’re-”

“Battle-Trained Soldiers!” Tae interrupted proudly, clearly pleased with his made-up acronym.

You glanced at Jimin out of the corner of your eye, who just shrugged as he decided to let his brothers handle the explanations.

“Okay, BTS. I can dig it Tae,” you tell him, and he beamed. “So, there’s Illai and Exia… what other gods are there?”

Namjoon took the reins once more. “There are seven ethereal beings. Illai, the mother and life goddess. Her siblings, Exia and Juufa. The latter is the god of harmony and accord. Then, the mother goddess has four children, each taking claim to a season: Ilto is spring, Vebah is summer, Keoth is autumn, and winter is Opitax.”

“Who fathered her kids? Was it her sibling?” You supposed the idea should’ve made you squirm more than it did, but you’d read enough mythology in your life to know that it wasn’t exactly a rare thing for deities to do.

“I…” Namjoon paused, thinking hard before frowning. “I don’t know.”

Hoseok began praising you for finally finding something that his leader didn’t have the answer to.

“I heard she was pregnant when she came to be.” Jin piped up.

Tae proceeded to voice his own opinion. “Nah hyung, it was definitely a self-impregnation.”

“Oh! I think there’s a species of lizard that does that on Earth!” You excitedly claim, looking to Jimin for confirmation.

“Why do you think I would know?” He said, making your face drop into a pout.

“Well, clearly, none of us know the answer. I’m sorry Y/N,” The kiela’s leader spoke up before the conversation could totally go sideways. “But anyways, many Saeni worship a particular god or goddess based on their birth season as well as occupation like in our case.”

You didn’t really know what else to say besides a simple “wow.” You weren’t the religious type, but you were intrigued by the various beliefs around the world. You enjoyed learning about them, so it was amazing to hear about the Saeni’s. Although, you did find it odd that none of them knew who fathered the four seasonal gods. Maybe somebody could bring Maury Povich over to Illain and have him do his paternity test segment with Juufa. You could just imagine his “You are not the father!” declaration to the god. Or maybe it would be “You are the father!” Who knows…

That’s why they need Maury!

You were brought out of your thoughts of bringing the American talk show host on a cross-world adventure when Jin announced that dinner was ready. Excitedly jumping off the ground at the Saeni’s words, you pulled Jimin up by his arm.

Pondering missing information from the Saeni culture would have to wait until food got into your belly.

Laying on the mat rolled out underneath your body, you couldn’t find it in you to close your eyes and drift to sleep. Your mind would not shut off and you kept wiggling around like a worm in the hopes of finding a position that would lull your ass to Snoozeland. It wasn’t working. Flopping to your other side once more, you stared at Jimin sleeping next to you. His plush lips were pursed, and he was expelling soft puffing noises.

You’re not going to get any sleep if you keep staring at his cute face!

You sighed before turning your head away. Cursing yourself for not being able to hit your internal power button, you sat up and ran your hands down your face. You cradled your head in your hands as you listened to the bugs in the dark.

All of the sudden, you perked up when you heard a melodic sound drifting through the forest. It was a beautiful, low-pitched song. Curious as to what animal was making it, you removed the blanket from where it was draped over your legs and rose to go find out. You crept around the Saeni silently, not wanting to wake them, and you paused when you made it to the perimeter of their snoring forms. The next round of pretty sounds came from your left, so you angled your body in that direction and tip-toed away, not noticing the pair of green eyes that followed your movements.

Glancing up at the moonlight filtering through the trees, you smiled to yourself. It was so peaceful here. So quiet yet filled with an orchestra of sounds. It wasn’t the buzzing of electricity, the honking of traffic, or the thumping of music escaping past closed doors. It was only the sounds of nature. Plain and simple and nothing else.

You had been looking for that mystery animal for around seven minutes. You hadn’t heard it in about three, so you halted your feet to listen carefully.

Bugs clicking.

Trees creaking.

Leaves rustling.

And was that it? You heard a faint noise, so you held your breath and leaned your ear forward in hopes of catching the sound again.

“What are you doing?”

You gasped at the unexpected voice behind you. You jerked your head over your shoulder and raised a hand over your heart to steady its rapid pace when you recognized the person who startled you.

“Fucking hell Coco! You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you doing?” He repeated himself, and you were shocked when you noticed his voice didn’t carry its usually venom.

He almost sounded… nice.

Taken back, it took you a few seconds to respond, “Oh, um. I couldn’t sleep, and I heard this really pretty sound, so I wanted to check out was it was. And now that I say it out loud, I realize that that’s the opening scene from every camping horror movie ever, so that was probably super dumb on my part so-”

“I get it. You can stop rambling now.” The male interrupted you before sighing. “It was the call of a tilqua, they’re nocturnal so you don’t hear them during the day.”

“They’re a type of bird,” he continued after seeing your blank face.

“Oh! Cool! Uh, thanks for telling me.”

It fell to an awkward silence after that. Neither of you saying anything and avoiding looking at each other. You shifted your weight foot to foot as the painful quiet continued for another minute.

Not able to take it any longer, you blurted out, “Why are you being so cordial with me all of the sudden?”

You really should have just kept your damn mouth shut because, almost instantly, his entire demeanor toward you changed. He flinched at your question, as if it awoke him a trance. Then, he narrowed his eyes, any hint of warmth they might’ve had was now gone.

“I’m not being nice to you. I was on watch and saw someone leaving camp. I came to check why.” His voice was void of any emotion.

“I… but you... the sound-”

“It’s your fault,” he talked over you, his tone now carrying anger.

“Wh-what? What’s my fault? I haven’t done anything.”

You saw his hand descend to grip the handle of his dagger. Shit. You’d annoyed him, and you didn’t even know how or why.

“Just go back to camp. Go lay down next to Chim, and go to sleep already,” he said through his teeth, hand squeezing the dagger.

Not wanting to be around such an aggravating person anymore, you found yourself following his demand by promptly marching past him, making sure to bump into him as you did. He growled as your shoulder checked his but didn’t retaliate further.

You couldn’t believe it. The audacity of that male! He was the one who had followed you like some creeper. You let out a quiet scream of frustration as your stomped through the forest back to the camp and did exactly what he told you to do.

You woke up to Jimin gently shaking you and saying that it was time to get your ass up.

You moaned. “Mmmmmm-kay Slim Jim, just give me fi-“

“I swear if you’re about to say five more minutes…”

“-ive more minutes.” You rolled over and tugged the blanket closer to your chin.

You vaguely heard Jimin say something about not being sorry when, out of nowhere, a heavy weight plopped down on top of you, making you grunt from the impact.

“Slim Jim, I will personally shave your head if you don’t get off me!”

“Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” A deep voice that was definitely not Jimin’s murmured in your ear.

Cracking an eye open, you saw that it was Tae who had jumped on you. His handsome face was squished against yours and his long limbs were wrapped around your curled-up body. Seeing your eyes open, he gave you his signature boxy smile, which you returned with no hesitation. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at the guy when he looked so damn adorable.

You accepted your defeat. “Alright, alright. I’ll get up, but you gotta get the hell off me first.”

He immediately scrambled up, pulling you vertical with him. He gave you a big hug that lifted you off your feet before setting you down and skipping away to talk with Jungkook. You averted your eyes, not wanting to see the burgundy head’s glare this early in the morning.

You yawned and stretched your entire body. The sun was just beginning to peak out over the horizon and you were glad that you didn’t have a clock to see how hellaciously early it must’ve been. After gathering your belongings and shoving them into your backpack, you walked over to join the rest of the Saeni. Jin handed you what looked like an apple and tasted just as refreshing and sweet.

“Aren’t you going to apple-aud me for making sure you eat the most important meal of the day?”

You swallowed your bite before replying, “This is an apple?”

“Uh, yeah? What else would it be?”

Sorry for not knowing ya’ll had apples over here, damn.

“And what about my joke!? None of you appreciate peak humor! Ugh, you let me down Y/N.”

Before you could compliment his atrociously great dad joke, the Saeni walked away in exaggerated disappointment. At least you hoped it was exaggerated.

Lifting your shoulders in a shrug, you continued munching on the tasty, green fruit as you watched Jimin join Tae and Jungkook’s conversation. You had to admit that if you weren’t aware of who these people were to Jimin, you would have been feeling just a wee bit neglected. Your best friend had been spending more time speaking with the Saeni than with you. Granted, he always checked in with you to make sure you were doing okay, but he hadn’t really talked to you. But, you couldn’t be upset at him. He was probably just taking the time to catch up with everyone since it had been about nine months since seeing them last. Plus, you did sort of invite yourself onto the trip, so you were just happy to be here. You had also been getting to know Tae and Hoseok more, since the two of them walked beside you most of the time. They were both loud and eccentric, but they had kind souls. You really enjoyed talking with them and they loved hearing your stories about Jimin on Earth.

Just as you took the last bite of apple, Namjoon called you over. Tossing the core behind a tree to give a forest animal its own breakfast, you hurried over to the tall male who handed you your two daily petals. Tossing them into your mouth to dissolve, your body momentarily froze as the experience of consuming them together hit you in full force. It was almost overwhelming, but once it passed and your vision cleared, you gave Namjoon a smile and wave before bounding over to Hoseok who was leaning against a tree. Seconds later, Tae joined the two of you, thankfully without a certain coconut-headed asshat.

You had been walking for around three hours. Three hours of stepping around trees, leaping over logs, and being the only damn person making a sound as you stepped over foliage. Three hours before finally giving in and voicing the question you had been dying to ask.

“Do you guy carry around hair dye or does Yoongi color your hair with magic?”

When the Saeni striding next to you gave a look of confusion you expanded your question. “Well, you both have dyed hair so how do you maintain it in the field? Doesn’t it wash out? Or sweat out?

“Our hair isn’t dyed Y/N.”

“What? But you have grey hair, Tae! And Hoseok, yours is silver white! You’re not old enough to have grey or white hair!” Your eyes widened as a possibility you hadn’t considered came to you. “Oh my gosh. Are you guys old geezers? Do Saeni age differently than humans?”

Tae snickered at your panicked tone and you went to smack his shoulder, but he easily evaded your hand.

“Okay first off, can you please stop calling me Hoseok? It’s so weird to have someone use my real name.” The male himself asked.

“Uh sure, but you told me that’s your name, so I don’t know what else to call you?” You winced as your foot snapped yet another twig on the forest floor.

“Just call me Hobi, little scorja. Secondly, like Tae said, we don’t dye our hair. None of us do. It’s all natural, baby.”

“All natural my ass. Yoongi has mint-blue hair! That shit at natural, honey.”

At the mention of Yoongi’s name, Hobi’s eyes twitched over to the Saeni and faintly smiled.

Tae then filled in for Hobi since he was distracted. “Yeah, and Chim has orange hair and Namjoon’s got yellow eyes. We’re all born with it, little scorja. Our eye and hair color come from our birth season.

“Hobi, Jin, and I were all born when Opitax had control, so we have winter-esque features, hence the grey and white hair.

Chim and Joonie were during Keoth’s months, so they have autumn coloring.

Kookie has Vebah’s summer tones. And Yoongi is-”

“Ilto. Spring.” Hobi returned to the discussion.

“Hold up.” You raised your hand to emphasize your words. “Jimin had black hair when we were kids though.”

“Oh yeah! I remember when he first showed up, we all though he was an Opitax baby.” Tae laughed while giving Hobi a nudge with his elbow.

“He dyed his hair black to blend in with humans. I’m guessing that vibrant orange is not a normal color for your people, especially kids.”

You looked up to where Jimin was walking with Namjoon and Yoongi, his apricot tresses standing out among the greenery of the forest. Those same tresses that had just showed up at the end of summer one year and never went away. You always inquired how he got his dark roots to never pop up and he would give you a sly smile in return every time. You had thought he was just keeping his superb dyeing technique a secret, but apparently, the only secret was that it was his natural hair.

“And to answer that last part,” Hobi continued, “we age the same as humans do.”

“Well… that’s a relief,” you said as you tilted your head up to catch a patch of sunlight filtering through the leaves.

The conversation died, but it was a comfortable silence. Unlike last night with Jungkook. As the three of you hiked on, Tae would occasionally point out a flower or plant he thought you would find pretty and Hobi would advise you to be more careful when you stumbled over some obstacle. Overall, though, you let the forest do most of the talking. You could slightly hear Namjoon, Yoongi, and your Slim Jim making conversation ahead of you as well as Jin complaining to Jungkook behind you. As you grabbed a hold of a tree trunk to swing yourself around it, a strong gust of wind blew past you, causing your hair to go wild. Blowing the pieces out of your face, you glimpsed Tae’s feather earring swaying in the wind.

“Okay another question, please don’t hate me. Why do you all have ear piercings? They look badass, don’t get me wrong, but couldn’t they be a liability in a fight?”

“How could they be a liability?” Hobi answered your question with a question.

You explained that they could get caught on something or their enemy could yank on them or rip them out if they got close enough.

Both Saeni let out a laugh before Hobi said, “That may be true, but I highly doubt it would happen. Especially our enemies yanking on them.”

“We actually wear them to symbolize what kind of fighter we are!” Tae added as hopped over a fallen log.

“Huh?” You opted to go beneath the fallen tree, briefly pausing to curiously look at what seemed like a black hand print on the bark.

“Feather for archers like me. Metal for swords, daggers, and knives like Hobi, Kookie, and Jin. Dark beads for blunt weapons like Namjoon and his mace, and Yoongi has bone for magic users!”

“That’s what they’re for!? I thought they were just some Saeni fashion statement. Don’t they sort of… give you guys away?”

Hobi snorted as he swatted a branch out of his face. “If the weapons literally strapped to our backs don’t give us away I don’t think our ‘fashion statements’ will be the thing to do so.”

His sassy remark caused you to fake pout. They cooed at you, poking at your cheeks and sides until you giggled at their antics. Pleased they had you back to smiling, they dropped their hands and moved back to a respectful distance.

“That reminds me, I need to give Chim his!” Tae suddenly gasped out.

“Give him his what?”

“His earrings! He’s an archer too, but he leaves his earrings with me when…” He was gone before he finished his sentence, running up to where Jimin was.

You blinked at his rapid departure. For a strict, “battle-trained soldier” he sure was in a world of his own sometimes.

Thankfully, the dagger and knife enthusiast next to you finished for him. “Chim gives them to Tae so that he doesn’t lose them on Earth.”

So Jimin was an archer? Damn, you’d love to see him knock an arrow back, you bet he’d look sexy as heck. You turned your head to ask Hobi how good Jimin was, but you saw that his eyes were focused on where Tae had run up to. Focused on one Saeni up there in particular. Not the first time you had caught him staring at the other male. You had noticed that Hobi’s eyes went to find the other Saeni whenever his there was a pause in conversation. Or he would try to fight back his smile when the other’s name was mentioned. He did it so many times during dinner last night that you were about to smash their faces together and say your godly work was done. But for now…

“Does he know?”

“Hmm?” He replied still staring at the other male.

“Yoongi. Does he know?”

“What!?” He squeaked as he whipped his head to you. He coughed to try to return his voice to its normal pitched. “Ah, I mean what are you talking about?”

You smirked to yourself as you saw his face grow warm, but he obviously wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He visibly relaxed at your words. You wished you could help him out somehow, but it wasn’t your place to interfere. Especially given your own shitty situation. Unrequited love was quite the bitch, so you truly hoped that that wasn’t the case for Hobi.

You sent him an understanding smile and the two of you walked on.

Namjoon finally called it for the day when the group came across a wide river. The roar of the white rapids was almost deafening as they churned the water and interrupted the otherwise peaceful landscape.

You, Tae, and Hobi stayed at the designated campsite, watching Papa Jin prepare the evening’s meal, while the rest of the boys went to scout a calmer part of the river to wash off in.

Currently, you and Tae were doing your best to annoy the other Saeni as you tossed small nuts at them. You laughed as Jin shook his knife at you in a threat. Calling his bluff, you simply stuck your tongue out in return.

“Exia give me strength,” the eldest Saeni muttered, turning back to his pot.

“You were already a brat, Tae, but with her… aish. You two are the worst.” Hobi tried his best to sound serious, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips destroyed any hope he had.

You fell into Tae as your giggles consumed your body, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close. As your lungs calmed down, you heard footsteps approaching.

“Thank Illai you guys found someplace to wash off. I need to get away from these two tyrants.” You saw Jin point to you and your partner in crime.

Ignoring his comment, you turned your head to great the returning Saeni, but your hello died in your throat.

Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin were in the process of putting their shirts on and you caught sight of their defined muscles. You slowly closed your mouth and gulped. You’d obviously seen Jimin without a shirt on plenty of times before, but it hit on a whole different level to see him semi-shirtless and wet.

Not to mention that both Yoongi and Namjoon clearly worked out too. It was… a lot of take in. You didn’t think you could withstand any more pure, male hotness, but the gods of Illain must have wanted you to suffer because Jungkook decided right then would be a wonderful time to show up. Completely sans shirt.

All you could do was look at him as he whined to his hyungs about something that was absolutely no concern to you at that moment. Your eyes took in his physique that was muscular but still lean. The strength of his biceps was evident as he waved his arms at the others, causing the muscles to flex. You softly gasped when you noticed that his stomach was so cut that he had a freaking eight pack. Eight! Your eyes trailed lower and… oh my…

His. Fucking. Thighs. Due to the dampness of his skin, the fabric of his pants clung to his legs, effortlessly showcasing the prominent muscles. Every step he took had them bulging and you swear you almost fainted from the sight. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as you squeezed your own thighs together.

H-holy fuck. Coco was freaking ripped.

“Why is she staring at Kookie?” You heard Tae whisper to someone.

Your eyes widened and before you could look away, Jungkook’s head swiveled to you and saw that your eyes were locked on him.

Fucking hell. Why Tae!?

To your utter shock though, was that instead of bitching at you, he blushed and ran to hide behind a tree. As he yeeted himself out of there, you caught sight of a tattoo on his upper, middle back.

“Why’d you say that out loud? You know he gets shy!” Jin lightly smacked the offending Saeni on his arm.

“Hey, the little scorja was practically drooling! We were all thinking it, I just happened to be the one t- Ow!”

You gave him a smack of your own on his leg while your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

“That’s not nice!” He complained.

“Neither is voicing when someone is checking someone else out, Tae.” Namjoon pointed out as he sat down next to the fire.

Completely humiliated, you hid your face in your hands. Although, you did peek through your fingers to gauge Jimin’s reaction. The boy was folded in half, cracking up as his eyes squished closed.

Stupid cute squishy eyes.

You knew it was hopeless, but a small part of you had wished he’d be just a tiny bit jealous. Clearly, that was not the case.

Attempting to change the mortifying subject, you coughed before saying, “Uh, I didn’t know Coco had a tattoo.”

“What!? That kid has a tattoo!?” Jin shrieked in alarm before catching Yoongi’s “are you serious?” expression. “Oh, you must mean our draeva marks.”

“Drai-Draiva marks?”

“Drae-va.” Jin pronounced slowly for you. “Saeni are all connected to Illain. This connection can sometimes be accessed and converted to magic by certain individuals like Yoongi. Majority, however, only have the standard draeva marks.”

You didn’t notice the smiles from both Jimin’s and Tae’s faces dropping since you were transfixed on Jin’s words. “Each Saeni is born at the same time a tree begins to take root. These trees are called draeva, though they can be any species. At seven years old, we feel the connection emerge in our souls and we feel a pull to that tree.”

As he talked, you noticed Jungkook come out of hiding, thankfully fully clothed this time. He went to sit next to Tae and put his arm around the Saeni’s shoulders as Namjoon started to elaborate on the subject. He said that every Saeni goes on a journey to find their draeva when the connection is established. Once the tree is found, the connection permanently takes root in the Saeni’s soul when they rest their hand on the trunk. The Saeni’s hand print is forever embellished on the bark, and in return, the Saeni gets a mark that replicates the tree’s inner rings. Every seven years, another ring appears, and the mark provides them with heightened senses and reflexes as well as the ability to feel the state of the draeva and surrounding area.

As you absorbed the information, you realized that the mark you saw earlier on the fallen tree must’ve been a Saeni’s hand print. You wondered what happens to the Saeni when their tree collapses like that. And although you were delighted to have learned more about Saeni culture, something jumped to the forefront of your thoughts.

“Slim Jim, you don’t have one.”

He looked down at your comment. “I don’t, um, I haven’t found my draeva.” His eyebrows pulled together, and his voice was shaking slightly. “I probably don’t even have one since I’m not fully Saeni.”

“Shit. Jimin, I’m sorry I didn-”

“You didn’t know, it’s okay.” He sent you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes as Jin reached over to give his shoulder a squeeze.

Fuck, I lied. Your squishy eyes aren’t stupid. Bring them back.

“For the second night in a row, people are trying to sleep and you’re keeping them awake with all your emotions.” Yoongi grumbled.

The magic user had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal. Until now. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d gone straight to the fire to lay down on the ground. Though you were beginning to recognize that was standard behavior for the mint-haired Saeni. When he did finally speak up, he kept his usual, annoyed tone, but you could tell he was trying to lighten the atmosphere in his own, slightly questionable way. Trying to distract Jimin from his sadness.

Tae shot to his feet, preaching to Yoongi something along the lines of how emotions are what connect people together and yadda yadda yadda. 

You watched as Jimin’s face lifted in amusement and you silently thanked Mr. Sparkle Hands.

Once again, you were having a difficult time finding sleep. Or rather, sleep refused to find you because you’d tried every position and trick you could think of. Expelling the air in your lungs in a fast manner, you rose to your legs and shuffled over to where Tae was on watch.

He gave you a big smile as your approached, but it morphed into a frown. “You know I love talking to you, Y/N, but you should really get some sleep.”

“Trust me, I wish I could, but ya girl’s got insomnia.”

He hummed to express his empathy before grabbing your hand. “Well, if we’re going to talk, let’s walk the perimeter so we don’t wake the others.”

Waffling your fingers with his, the two of you started walking the circumference of the camp, far enough that nobody would hear you, but close enough to keep an eye on the area.

The two of you had been circling the camp for a decent amount of time, discussing absolute nonsense such as why you considered Steak and Shake fries to be on the bottom of the french fry totem pole.

“They’re skinny little shoestring fries! I like my fried potatoes to be girthy, you know. Give me some thick, crinkle cuts instead.”

As you argued in favor of girthy fries to someone who had never had one, Yoongi appeared out of the shadows. His face was not very happy, and you wondered what was wrong.

“Uhhh, hey Yoongi! Do you have insomnia too?”

He stopped and took you in with a judgmental face. “No. Only the small-minded get insomnia.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Disregarding your request, he turned to address Tae next to you.

“Hey! What are you doing? I wake up to take over watch and I don’t even find you at your post!”

Tae rolled his eyes. “Hyung, you know I can still see everything just fine from here, there’s no need t- Shit!”

Yoongi must have seen it a split-second before Tae had because he was the one that knocked you out of the way when the giant, black shadow of a thing came charging out of the dark.

You hit the ground hard with a grunt, scraping your forearm against a rock. Rolling over, you screamed Yoongi’s name as you saw him get tackled by the creature, the blue glow of an almost-finished spell fading as he went down. All you could do was watch in horror as wild jaws snapped at his head and claws raked down his body. Suddenly, an arrow thumped into the thing’s neck, but it only growled and continued ravaging the mint-haired Saeni who struggled, and failed, to push it off.

Hearing Tae curse, you looked in his direction and saw him running at the beast. He held his bow in both hands and defiantly yelled as he swung down. You gaped at you watched the sharp edge of his bow cut straight through the creature’s neck, causing the head to decapitate and the body to sag. The head hit the ground and rolled away from its previous owner until it came to a halt beside you.

You stared at it, blood still pumping out of the severed end in thick spurts. Midnight-colored skin that seemed rough and leather-like stretched across its skull. A thin, purple tongue hung limply out of its mouth, which was filled with rows and rows of teeth that looked like needles. You just stared at the gruesome head until you heard Tae calling Yoongi’s name.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You wobbled to your feet and stumbled as fast as you could over to the Saeni, doing your best to ignore the headless body as Tae heaved it off Yoongi. You exhaled in relief when you heard Yoongi’s low voice responding to Tae and saw his pink eyes open and alive. Your reprieve was short-lived, however, as you lowered your eyes to Yoongi’s arms and torso.

They were… not in good shape. Deep gashes were twisted all around his arms, pouring out tiny rivers of blood that soaked the ground beneath him. Luckily, he had his main armor on, protecting his vital organs, but the creature had still found an open chink with its claws. You felt a tear run down your cheek as you saw where it had dug into the flesh on his left side. He was breathing weakly and his chest was spasming as Tae moved his hands to press against the wound.

You dropped to your knees and whispered Yoongi’s name, your voice and hands trembling as you took in his damaged body.

There was just so much blood. It was everywhere. Your vision was only red, red, red.

What do I do? What do I do!? Oh god…

“Y/N. Y/N! Y/N!”

You broke out of your crimson-filled trance.

“Y-yes?” Your chin quivered.

“I need you to go back to camp and wake up the others, alright?” You could tell he was trying to speak as calmly as possible to not panic you further. “I need you to bring Hobi back, so he can help me move him. Can you do that for me, little scorja?”

You nodded as confidently as you could before shooting to your feet and sprinting back to camp, the image of Yoongi being mauled and his wrecked body burned into your brain.

Somewhere else, hundreds of miles away from a frantic you, an injured Yoongi, and a shocked kiela, was a male sitting inside of a large tent, which was erected within his own encampment. Most of his face was shrouded in darkness, only the bridge of his nose and peak of his cheekbones were visible in the light of a few burning candles. He looked up from the map spread out before him when someone entered his tent. The wolves beside the male lifted their heads in attention at the intrusion.

“Sir? We’ve gotten word that he is back in Illain.”

The three wolves regarded the subjugate with aggressive eyes, causing him to gulp in fear.

“Anything else?” The shadowed male inquired.

“Their magic user was attacked by a lupinx.” He replied without looking away from the massive canines.

The male leaned back in his chair, a sinister smile creeping onto his face while his eyes twinkled in satisfaction.

“Perfect. Tell them to proceed with the plan.”

You felt horrible as you watched five of the Saeni train the next morning. You hadn’t been able to defend yourself last night, and Yoongi had paid for your weakness. You fisted your hands and dug your nails into your palm.

You couldn’t forget how pale he had been. How odd it was to see such a complexion smeared with bright crimson.

You couldn’t forget the Saeni’s faces, who were already on their feet by the time you’d arrived, when you stammered out what had happened in choppy, broken sentences.

You couldn’t forget the way Hobi’s expression had gone from concerned to utterly terrified in an instant.

Nor the way he’d rushed over to you, eyes unnerved as he grabbed your arm. You had wanted to whimper when he clawed into the sensitive skin around your scraped forearm. He begged you to tell him where Yoongi was, and without even telling him to follow, you had turned and run back to the bloody scene.

You loosened the pressure on your hands, but a throbbing remained where your nails had almost punctured small crescents into the soft skin. You sniffled as you observed Jimin practicing with Tae’s bow while the grey-haired owner critiqued his technique. Following the sounds of ringing metal, you shifted and saw Jungkook and Jin sparing with their swords. And behind them was Hobi, who was throwing his blades at a tree with much more force than was likely necessary. Your eyes burned as you watched them.

Expelling all the air in your lungs, you hung your head. You were so thankful that Yoongi would be okay. He as currently resting back at the camp with Namjoon looking after him.

But what if it had been more serious? What if he had died because you had needed to be protected?

What did you expect when you came to a new world with a bunch of warriors? To just skip by joyously and never be in danger?

You felt pathetic. You were a liability to the entire group. All you did was get in the way. Feeling a lump grow in your throat, you swiveled and walked away from the clashing of swords and thumping of arrows. When you could no longer hear them, you let out a frustrated roar and punched the rough trunk of the nearest tree. Your knuckles scraped against the bark, opening bleeding wounds. You brought your right hand close to your face to inspect the torn skin before shaking it out and punching the tree again and again and again, each hit eliciting an increasingly louder yell from deep inside you. Finally, your legs gave out and you slumped down while cradling your bleeding and splinter-filled hand. You felt exhausted.

“Your form is terrible.”

Raising your gaze from your damaged hand, you saw the last person you wanted to see.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying that your form is completely fucked.”

Why the hell did he have to come berate you on your shitty punching technique. Was there anything you could do around this guy that wouldn’t have him talking down to you? And why was he even here? Shouldn’t he be back with the others?

On a normal day, you would’ve given him a smartass’ response. But this was not a normal day. You felt like crap and this was the cherry on top of your self-depreciation milkshake. Your breathing went from strained to erratic and you felt the wall barely holding yourself together start to crumble. Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you tried to shut Jungkook out in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself together.

“Your hand is thrashed because you can’t even throw a punch properly.”

Welp.

“Why!?” You screamed at him. “Why do you hate me!? What did I do to you!?”

You started to cry. You were so overwhelmed. “You said it was my fault, but what was my fault? I’ve never done shit to you!”

Truly crying at this point, your breathing was now stuttered and gasping. You lowered your head to try to hide your vulnerable state. As sobs wracked your body, you wrapped your arms around your torso in a desperate attempt to find comfort.

Not taking pity on you, Jungkook responded in a vicious tone, “You want to know what you did? You’re the reason my kiela is broken.”

“W-what?” You lifted your head to look at him through your tears.

His right hand grasped on to his ruby-hilted dagger and his other was clenched tightly.

“We’re supposed to stay together. We’re not supposed to leave each other, but Jimin does. He always leaves! And why? Because. Of. You. He doesn’t stay because you’re on Earth and he doesn’t want to leave his precious best friend, so he leaves us, his brothers, his family, instead.”

“What-I-Jungkook, I never asked him to do that. I didn’t even know you guys existed.” You defended yourself, but it came out weak.

“My family is never whole because of you. I almost lost my hyung last night because of you. It’s all because of you. Because of a stupid little human.” He spat the words out.

He was breathing heavily as he towered over you. “It’s. All. Your. Fault.”

Your heart ached in pain as what he said fully resonated with you. He was hurting because of you. Because Jimin would rather live on Earth, would rather abandon his kiela for most of the year, partly so that he could keep you in his life. You felt your stomach drop at the thought and you gripped your arms hard, curling into yourself again. You felt so frustrated, so lost, and so… human.

You’ve been hurting his family and you hadn’t even known. The others might not have been so up front about it, but they must have been hurting too. They had to be. A new wave of tears erupted over your cheeks as you considered how much the Saeni must despise you. How much they must be pretending to be fine with you for Jimin’s sake. You continued to sob as your mind shifted to think of how you’d been keeping Jimin away from them. You’d been keeping your best friend and the person you loved away from the most important people in his life.

And Yoongi…

“Kook! Y/N!”

You hastily rose to your feet and stepped back from Jungkook while you wiped your tears away, hissing as you moved your injured hand. It was a futile effort, though, since you knew there was still evidence in your meek disposition and red, puffy eyes.

“Hey hyung,” Jungkook said without looking away from you, but he stiffened and turned to his brother when he noticed that Tae was panicking. “What’s wrong?”

Gasping for air, he looked at you and Jungkook, obviously taking note of his heaving chest and your red eyes, but he didn’t comment on them.

Instead he said in a stressed, frantic tone, “They got him, Kook! They got Chim!”

You were pacing back and forth in front of Yoongi, who was laying down on his mat. You ran your hands through your hair, the crappy self-wrap job you did on your knuckles catching on the strands. You gripped fistfuls of your hair and yanked at the roots in frustration.

“Y/N. I swear to Exia if you pace in front of one more ti-“

“Yoongi! They’ve been gone for so long! What if something happened? What if they’re hurt?

“Okay, firstly, it’s only been like twenty minutes, so you can calm the fuck down.” He rolled his eyes. “Secondly, as Tae would put it, we’re BTS Saeni. This is literally what we do for a living… so yet again, you can calm the fuck down.”

You stopped in the middle of taking your next step as you considered his statements. Deciding to agree with him, you placed your foot down, but stopped moving around.

“Fine! Fine. But I want it to be known that I hate having to just sit here and wait.”

“You’re not sitting, and you didn’t have to say that. It was already obvious.”

You glared at the Saeni but your eyes softened after taking in his wrapped arms and torso. The bandages didn’t seem to have any blood staining them, so either they were freshly changed or Saeni’s bodies healed extremely fast. You still dropped your head in sorrow at his injured body.

“I-I’m sorry Yoongi. For what happened. It was my fault.”

He scoffed at your words. “It wasn’t your fault, idiot. Stop blaming yourself.”

“I really don’t know whether to take that as an insult or not, and I’m not sure I believe you, but… okay.”

Sitting down on the ground next to him, you thought back to the events that occurred after Tae had shown up.

---

“They got Chim!”

While you asked Tae what he meant, Jungkook had immediately reached out to grab ahold of the other Saeni’s shoulders.

“Where?” His demand was filled with anger, but it was controlled.

Contrary to how he’d been a minute ago.

“Chim saw you leave to follow, uh, Y/N.” He glanced at you. “So, he followed you¸ Kook. That’s the last I saw him.”

He stepped away from Jungkook, causing the latter’s hands to fall off his shoulders. You had never seen the usually aloof Saeni so serious before. It worried you.

“Namjoon came running over a few minutes later saying he saw them dragging Chim away unconscious.”

“You’re telling me that Namjoon saw them… AND DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!?”

You were so goddamn confused at what was going on. All you knew was that someone apparently hurt and kidnapped your Slim Jim.

“Can someone please tell me what in the fuck is going on!?”

Ignoring you, Tae said, “Jungkook, come on, use your coconut head for a minute.”

You would have snickered at his use of your term, but it definitely was not the time or the place to do so.

“He was by himself and he didn’t know how many there were. You know he did the right thing to get us all together to get him back,” Tae continued.

Without another word, the Saeni turned and started running in the direction of camp, Jungkook following without missing a beat. You stared, dumbfounded, for a second before sprinting after them.

Your lungs were burning by the time you caught up with everyone at the camp. Your burst through the trees and abruptly stopped due to the five standing Saeni having their weapons drawn and pointed at you. You blanched and stammered out that it was just you, raising your hands to show you were unarmed for good measure. When they recognized your face, they collectively sighed and lowered their weapons.

“Sorry Y/N. We’re just a little on edge right now,” Namjoon apologized as he returned his mace over his shoulder.

Giving him a timid, but understanding nod, you replied, “Noted. Um, so can someone finally explain to me what happened?”

It was Yoongi, still laying down to recover, who spoke up. “Some very bad people took Chim.”

“Yeah, I got that much, but… but why?”

Hobi filled in. “We have an idea as to why, but we aren’t completely sure.”

So that was absolutely not informative. Thanks.

“Okay? Well, what do we do now? We gotta get him back!”

“You will do nothing, except stay here and look after Yoongi. The rest of us will get him back.” Jin firmly said.

You tried to protest, but one look at Yoongi and your breakdown from earlier came rushing back to you. Taking a deep breath, you slowly nodded your consent as you exhaled. Then, you asked how they were going to get Jimin back.

Surprisingly, it was Jungkook who answered, “Just leave it to us. You do your job by looking after Yoongi and we’ll do ours.”

Again, that wasn’t very informative.

Namjoon backed up his words. “Honestly, it would just waste time explaining it all, so like Kook said, leave it to us. Trust us.”

“Alright,” you hesitantly agreed, “I trust you guys, so just… just please bring him back.”

“We aren’t sure where they took him yet, so we don’t know how long we’ll be gone,” Namjoon informed you as he glanced to Hobi. “Since Yoongi shouldn’t access magic right now, Hobi will cast a glamour over you two in case anyone is still lingering around.”

Hobi can do magic too!?

Seeing your bewildered expression as he came up to you, Hobi sent you a small smile. He raised his hands and they began to glow a blinding white while he muttered under his breath. As the light faded, he stepped back.

“Yoongi and I grew up together,” he explained softly. “I can tell you more about it later, but for now the short version is that he’s taught me a few things about harnessing Illain’s energy. I can’t manipulate it to his extent, but I can do some basic things like this.”

“Well, you better come back to tell me the long version.” You demanded through your shock before turning to the others. “You all better. With Jimin.”

They each gave you some sort of acknowledgement before running off into the trees. You watched their backs disappear one by one behind the foliage, except for one. Instead of leaving with the rest, Tae jogged up to you, gave you a hug, and whispered into your ear, “We’ll be okay, little scorja. And we’ll bring Chim back safe and sound, I promise.”

With that, he turned and sprinted away to catch up to the others.

---

You sighed, praying that Tae would be able to keep that promise. Looking at Yoongi resting underneath the blanket covering him, you had to let out a dry chuckle.

“Well, since you’re hurt, at least you have an actual excuse to lay around now.”

You were lucky he couldn’t use a lot of magic right then, because his face told you that comment might’ve pushed him to use it on you in a not so pleasant way.

“And why do you think I’m tired all the damn time?”

“I thought you were just a natural slug.”

“Partly true, but I’m exhausted from making those petals for you. They’re not big, but they require a lot of fucking energy to make.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ So, don’t call me out for wanting to res-”

He didn’t finish his sentence as his entire body perked to attention.

“What?”

He quickly and sternly hushed you, bringing a finger first to his lips, then to his ear. Telling you to listen.

And then you heard it. Or, you should say them. Voices. Ones you didn’t recognize and neither did Yoongi, it seemed.

Briefly, you panicked before remembering that Hobi had put a glamour over the two of you, so you were essentially invisible to the outside eye.

You sent Yoongi a questioning look and he gave you a serious one in return. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it closed when the voices grew loud and three armed strangers appeared around a tree.

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