#I still won’t him to tail me and stick his gloves in my mouth so I suck his fingers buttttt I’ll slander him too

[linpunny]

ANAKKSKSKSKSK WHERE IS THE LIE THO LUFICWR SLANDER AT ITS FINEST DEADASS 💀

FOULLLLLLLL

[dreamerstreamer]

Sugar & Spice

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: The holidays are here! What better way is there to end the year than with Clay and some cookies?

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: happy holidays, folks! due to popular demand, this year’s holiday special is written for dream. i hope you all sincerely enjoy and have a wonderful day!

You peered down at the bowl in front of you, your eyes narrowing. Needs more... yellow.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you reached across the counter for a small bottle, quickly unscrewing the cap. Holding it over the bowl, you gently squeezed until a single drop fell atop the fluffy frosting sitting in the center. Your lips quirked upward, a twang of satisfaction running through you.

You hummed as picked up the bowl with one hand and grabbed a wooden spoon with the other. Sticking the spoon in, you began to stir, watching with hopeful eyes as the frosting’s hue slowly began to shift ever so slightly. A few moments later, your arm stilled, pride swelling in your chest at the perfect shade of lime green that stared back at you.

“There we go.”

All of a sudden, a beep filled the air, and you startled. Realization quickly washed over you, and your shoulders sank. The oven’s done preheating, you thought to yourself with a flicker of joy.

Flipping around, you slid the bowl across the counter toward the other bowl of frosting you had already made, then turned on your heel. You reached for the oven mitts hanging on the cabinet door, slipping them on with a grin as your fingers fit perfectly inside. You were about to focus your attention on the silver tray of dough you had laid out earlier when a dash of brown caught your attention. You whirled, your gaze landing on a familiar, furry face who was about six inches too close to your precious icing.

“Patches,” you said slowly, eyeing the paw she had raised over the bowl’s middle, “if you’re about to do what I think you’re going to do, don’t.”

She froze at the sound of your voice, her movements coming to a halt as you inched closer toward her.

“Seriously, Patches. You’ll get sick.”

She blinked at you, her big, green eyes scanning your face as her whiskers twitched. You held your breath as you stared back, your fingers crossing behind your back.

Her tail flicked once—twice.

Then she lowered her paw.

You nearly sank to the ground in relief, quickly leaning over to snatch the bowl away and clutch it to your chest. “Thank goodness,” you mumbled to yourself, your eyes squeezing shut. “I thought I was going to have to sta—“

“Hi.”

You yelped, leaping with a start as you whipped around, your fingers curling around the edge of the bowl. On the other side of the kitchen island stood Clay, his hand scratching behind Patches’ ear as she nuzzled up into his touch. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you let out a deep breath, your hand resting atop your pounding heart.

“Holy crap,” you breathed, sending him a shaky smile as you straightened, “you scared me.”

He flashed you a crooked grin, pulling his hand away from Patches. The moment he did, she leapt off the counter, scampering away down the hall. “Sorry. I just I finished streaming and wanted to come see what you were up to.” His eyes darted to the mitts on your hands then the counter behind you. “What are you baking?”

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you placed the bowl of frosting down next to you, quickly grabbing the tray of dough you had made earlier. “Gingerbread cookies!” You sent him a wink. “But with a twist.”

He took a step toward you, blinking down at the array of squares and circles littering the platter before his eyes caught on a particular shape. “Is that... my YouTube profile picture?”

Your eyes curved into tiny crescents. “Yeah! Aren’t they cute?”

He bobbed his head, his emerald gaze crinkling at the corners. “Very.”

You walked toward the oven, pulling it open with a gloved hand. “I have all the icing ready to go for after it’s done baking,” you said, careful not to burn yourself as you slid the tray inside, “and I even got some fondant for your eyes and smile.” You pouted as you pushed the door closed. “I was going to use black licorice, but I figured it might not taste as good.”

While you pressed a few buttons on the stovetop, Clay leaned against the counter, dipping a finger into the bowl of frosting before bringing it back to his lips. He eyed his finger curiously for a moment, then flicked his tongue out to lap up the white cream. He tilted his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he swallowed. “Mm, sweet. You sure put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”

You walked over to him, leaning over to tap his nose with your clean finger. “It’s a special time of year. It’d just be sad if I didn’t put in at least a little extra effort.”

The smile he sent you was absolutely dazzling, and you could have sworn you felt your head spin at the sight. “Well,” he said, “you went the extra mile, so I think you’ve done more than enough.”

Pulling the oven mitts off, you hung them back on the cabinet, eyeing the bowls of frosting. “I still have to wait for them to bake,” you began, counting in your fingers, “decorate, then clean, but after all that, then I’ll be finished.”

Clay’s hand slid over the counter toward you. “Can I help?” His gaze averted from yours, something akin to embarrassment flickering within. “I-I’m not an artist or anything, bu—“

You put your hand on top of his. “Yes,” you said without missing a beat. “Absolutely. Of course, you can.” A wicked grin flashed across your face. “If you also help me clean.”

His expression mirrored your sly one. “Like I would let you do it alone, anyways.” He wrinkled his nose. “Just don’t send any pictures of the cookies I decorate to George or Sap, though.” He nearly shivered at the idea. “They’ll definitely clown me.”

You laughed at the thought of the inevitable string of mocking messages he would be sure to receive, a wave of affection surging through you. His stare was fond as he added, “How long do we have to wait?”

Your eyes glanced at the timer on the oven. “Like ten, fifteen minutes, tops. It won’t be that long.”

He pushed off from the counter, standing up straight. “What do you wanna do for fifteen minutes, then?”

You hummed, pursing your lips for a moment before your face lit up. “Cuddles?”

He blinked at you once, then chuckled. “Cuddling, it is, then.”

You let out a small victory cry, missing the way his eyes softened. You turned on your feet, gesturing to your backside. “Help me take off my apron?”

He padded up to you with a hum, his hands reaching over to grasp at the fabric securing the apron around your waist. His fingers were warm against the small of your back, and with a few tugs, the knot unraveled in an whirl. You easily slipped the apron off your shoulders and around your head, flashing Clay another grin as you placed it atop the counter. “Thank you.”

When he returned your thanks with a soft, “You’re welcome,” you turned on your heel for the living room. You had made it about five feet when a warm hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in place.

You paused, turning to look at Clay over your shoulder. “Clay?” you murmured.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his smile curling into a smirk as he pointed above the two of you. “Would you look at that.”

You glanced up, and you felt your throat tighten.

Of course. Mistletoe.

You had nearly forgotten he had hung it up the day before, mischief dancing across his face as you rolled your eyes at him. Shaking your head, you couldn’t stop the lovestruck smile from spreading across your face as you lowered your head, your gaze locking onto his. He was a dork, but he was your dork, and that was all that mattered.

In an instant, his arms were around your waist, pulling you toward him until your chests were flush against one another. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to press your lips to his. He grinned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and you made a small noise that only made him smile harder. You ran a hand through his hair, digging your fingers into the base of his locks. He tasted sweet like sugar, and you could have sworn you could taste the frosting he had licked just a few minutes prior.

You parted with a gasp, his forehead leaning against yours as the two of your calmed your beating hearts, his hot breath fanning over your face. His lips were rosy and swollen, his hair disheveled this way and that. You were sure you looked just as messy, if not more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you simply smiled at him.

“Happy now, lover boy?” you quipped. When he nodded, looking like a lovesick puppy, you tugged at his arm with a laugh. “Alright, let’s go cuddle, now.”

You pulled him toward the living room with ease with a bounce in your step, lunging for the couch. With a small cry of victory, you tumbled into the couch cushions, Clay following right after you. The moment he sat down, you flipped over, snuggling into his side as he slung his arm around you.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, your hearts beating in sync with one another as you simply basked in each other’s presences. You were practically drowning in his warm touch and the steadily growing scent of gingerbread.

Rolling over slightly, you traced a finger over the vein in his arm, murmuring softly, “This year’s been kind of wild, hasn’t it?”

You could practically feel him roll his eyes beside you as a chuckle flew from his lips. “Don’t even get me started. I could spend ages talking about how crazy everything’s been.”

You shifted in his arms, your eyes scanning his face. Something in your chest felt hazy as your gaze traced over the curve of his cheek and the slope of his nose.

“But not all of it has been bad, you know?” you murmured, reaching a hand up to his cheek. As your skin met his, he leaned into your touch, your thumb tracing over the myriad of freckles dusting his face. “You’ve done a lot of crazy cool stuff. Look at how much your channel’s grown—how much you’ve grown. You even won a Streamy award.”

His cheeks flushed, and he buried his face into your hand, his lips pressing against your palm as his voice came out slightly muffled. “You give me too much credit.”

You lowered your hand and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “You deserve all of it and more,” you whispered, just for him to hear. “You’re more amazing than you know. You made your dream come true.” Your gaze was sincere as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling him shiver beneath you. “Little Clay would be so proud.”

As you pulled away from him, you took in the sight of his rosy cheeks and viridian eyes, his lips parted in awe as he simply stared at you. You felt your face grow hot underneath his gaze, and you lowered your eyes to your lap, clasping your hands together. Even just his stare made you so flustered—was it even possible to be so deeply affected by one person?

After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. “How did I get so lucky?”

You lifted your chin, tilting your head at him as your eyebrows knit together. “Well, you did spend literal months studying the YouTube algorithm, and you’re still constantly working on videos,” you pointed out. “Plus, you stream, so I wouldn’t necessarily call all that just lu—“

He shook his head, smiling. “No, no.” He looked at you dead on, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I mean, how did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “What?”

He reached over, slipping your hand into his as he intertwined your fingers together. “You’re not something I can study for,” he murmured into your ear, his voice wrapping around you like a cozy blanket, “or some plug-in that I can code.” Something warm and gooey melted in your stomach. “You’re just you, through and through, and by some miracle, you’re sitting here with me.”

Your face practically burst into flames, and you most definitely felt yourself starting to turn to putty. You wanted to hide your face in your hand, but he was holding it, so all you could manage was a shy whine. You barely managed to catch a glimpse of his cocky grin before you turned, burying your face in his neck.

“Clay,” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how hard your heart was beating, “you are so embarrassing.”

You could hear his smile as he spoke, squeezing your hand. “You love me for it.”

You couldn’t stop a smile of your own from stretching across your face as you squeezed back. “Yeah, I do.”

Slowly, he untangled your hands and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you closer to his chest as you sank into him. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend the holidays, all cuddled and cozied up in Clay’s warm embrace with gingerbread cookies baking in the back. As you drank in his cologne and felt his heartbeat ringing in your ears like a familiar melody, you only had one thing on your mind.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

Just then, there was a deafening crash and the unmistakable clattering of bowls.

You froze in Clay’s arms, your eyes shooting wide open as his hold went slack around you.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a meow.

Your jaw dropped.

Oh my god.

You didn’t allow yourself any time to think before you scrambled off the couch, nearly tripling over your own feet as you raced toward the kitchen, Clay’s voice calling out after you.

“[Y/N]! What’s going on?”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of heavy panting. Then came a loud wail.

“Patches!”

It was far from a perfect holiday, to say the least, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[celestialarchon]

Celebrating 1k+ Part 1: Zhongli x gn!reader

Crossover: Ancient Magus Bride

content: fluff, little bit of angst, romance

warning: themes of depression and mental illness, alluding to suicidal tendencies

The bath water was warm, soothing your inner turmoil and washing away the stress in small tides. What a day it had been, selling yourself off in an auction was strange enough but the man or creature that had purchased you was even weirder. As the auctioneer had said beforehand, you didn’t care about your own life, it didn’t matter who you were sold to. Even so, you were taken back by the sudden dragon like skull that appeared before your face on stage, bidding unreasonably high and sweeping you away in a noir cloak to his home. Calling you his apprentice, he had immediately invited you into his home and insisted you bathe.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a giggle, your neck snapped up and you were face to face with a strange creature. The creature was human like but much smaller with wings and long claws on it’s hands and fingers. It’s face was boyish, framed by two braids with traces of green and blue in its hair. Patterns of dandelions danced on it’s skin.

“Hello, sunshine,” his voice was clear as day, like a melody in the wind.

“What are you?” You breathed out.

His pointed ears twitched and he grinned, “I’m Venti! A wind spirit of course, nice to meet ya! ehe.”

“I see,” you tilted your head, remembering that Zhongli had told you it was impolite to call the fae as fae but to refer to them with familiarity. “Are you a neighbor?”

Two other humanoid creatures peered from behind Venti, the same viridescent wings sprouting from their backs and gold dandelions printed on their skin. One’s hair was red and her skin was a darker hue of green than the others. The other was blonde with a ponytail held by a flower stem.

“You know, ehehehe,” Venti giggled, and flew down, kissing your cheek. “That Morax is no good! You’re better off with us, we could cherish you truly, little sunshine.”

The fae left with those words, leaving you to your thoughts. Sighing, you emptied the bath and dressed yourself as the door shook gently with a knock. The door swung open just as you pulled your shirt over your head, finally clothed. The man stood in the door way, his gold eyes twinkling as he praised you for being patient with him and cleaning up so well. He shifted his weight and pulled something from his pocket, offering it to you.

Shyly, you took a step towards him, allowing him to slip it over your head, he chuckled, “Good puppy, this is a protective talisman. It’s a stone called Cor Lapis that formed close to a river. Over time the water from the river wore down the stone and created a hole in the middle, if you look through it you can see a fae’s true form.”

He patted your head and led you towards your room. The silver lady, Ganyu, darted into the bathroom to take care of your soiled clothing. Ganyu was a silky, a type of neighbor who liked to do chores and she looked after the house for Mr. Zhongli. She had already taken quite a liking to you.

Zhongli sat down on the edge of your bed, tucking you in, “From now on you will be my apprentice, and I your teacher, (y/n).”

His deep voice made your heart flutter just a bit, and you turned over to avoid that calculating gaze he always held. The bed squeaked as he stood, his footsteps were heavy as he walked out of the room, gently shutting the door.

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Zhongli watched your fragile figure walking away from the safety of his home and sighed, “I suppose this will make a good lesson.”

He creeped out, following you and hiding in your shadow. Venti was trying to persuade you to leave him. For some odd reason, this made Zhongli’s stomach twist up in a knot. Still, he maintained his composure and stayed hidden from the view of the troublesome fairy and you.

“Where are you from?” Venti asked you.

“A land far from here,” You sighed, “I was passed around by relatives so I was all over the place.”

“Oh?” a crooked smile formed on the fae’s lips, “Were they kind to you, sunshine?”

You grimaced, “It is.. hard to remember. But I think if I was loved by them and did love them I wouldn’t be here at this moment.”

It grew quiet as the fairy led you further into the forest. Zhongli was beginning to grow restless. You stopped and Venti turned to look at you, still hyper. He beamed at your emotionless face.

“We’ve been walking for so long, I might get lost,” Your eyes moved to the side.

“It’s fine!” Venti cheered, “You don’t have to go back there now. We have to go far to get to our land, and the others want you so badly you know.”

“What?”

“Ehe!” Venti grinned even wider as a gold light began to shimmer behind him, “There it is. A place for us, it’ll be lots of fun and we want you with us so bad, my sunshine. It’s okay, nobody’s waiting for you. You can come with me, come with us!

He continued, “Come along now, sunshine. Won’t you come with me?”

“It’s true that there wasn’t anybody waiting for me,” You began, seemingly entranced by the melodic words he spilt, “But..”

You swatted the floating boy away from you and stepped back. Your hand flew to your head as the forest around you spun. It wasn’t right. This wasn’t where you were supposed to be.

Venti screeched as you stumbled, “Sunshine! What’s wrong?”

“I don’t care if he throws me away.” You whispered, “Mr. Zhongli gave me a home and has taken care of me. He called me his apprentice and said he’d care for me like a family. Even if he does get tired of me or get rid of me, it’s okay. He’s already done enough for me.”

“Well, it seems my puppy already knows where home is,” Zhongli’s deep voice rumbled in your ear as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Morax! Eh? How did you find us?” Venti cried out, scowling.

Zhongli’s fingers went to your necklace, fidgeting with it as he held it in the palm of his gloves, “You see, this puppy did need a collar and bell if you would. It’s not as if somebody like myself wouldn’t notice a place so full of magic and energy like this.”

Venti shrieked in anger, flying off into the light. Shame filled you as you turned to your master, head down. He chuckled and patted your head, pulling you closer to him. His strong arms wrapped around you and your feet left the ground, a panicked gasp left your mouth as he carried you in his arms.

“Let’s go home now,” His long hair tickled your face.

You nodded in response, still taken back by his sudden affectionate side. He was a strange man.

“You have a scratch on your arm,” His eyes were piercing as they stared at the wound you hadn’t even noticed, “I’ll have to take care of that when we get home. As your future husband, I can’t allow you to get scars so easily.”

“Huh?” You grunted, craning your neck to look at him, “Husband?”

“Ah, I forgot to tell you. You are my apprentice but you are also to be my bride and I your husband.” He spoke with a straight face, his eyes never wandered from the path as he continued towards the house.

Your eyes widened, “Whaaaaat?!”

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Zhongli had insisted you find a familiar, and you had. Xiao was a wonderful familiar although quiet. Most of the time, he was in his doglike form just trailing behind you. Occasionally he’d switch to his humanoid form to gobble up some almond tofu. You sincerely cared about Xiao, and he you.

Zhongli, however, didn’t seem as happy about this. He had locked himself in his room for days now. You knew he was exhausted from the battle against Signora and her experiments at the church but still, you were worried. Silver had begun to grow worried too, frantically checking on the strange man constantly.

“Zhongli?” You knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

The door opened but before you could react, you were pulled into the dark room and heard the slam of the door shutting. From outside you could hear Xiao panicking and calling out for you. Zhongli was sitting in the dark, still stuck in a partial draconian form. You could feel his claws digging into your skin as he growled.

“Why?” His voice shook as he buried his head into your shoulder, “What is this?”

“Zhongli, what’s wrong?” Your hands brushed his, gently trying to pull his claws from you.

His grip grew tighter and you winced in pain, “Why are you spending so much time with him? Cant you tell I miss you? Why can’t you see I need you right now?”

“Zhongli,” Your voice shook, “You’re hurting me. Stop it.”

He removed his hands from you abruptly and pushed away from you, his back on the wall. Your eyes had finally adjusted to the dark room and you could see the outline of his body. He had horns sticking out of his head and a long spiked tail. His hands were almost normal but his nails were long and sharp like claws. Every so often a forked tongue would make its way past his lips. His expression was confused, lonesome even.

Taking a deep breath, you crawled towards him, pushing yourself closer to him. You faced him, taking his face into your hands and making his cold eyes look at yours.

“I think,” You squished his cheeks gently, “You are jealous.”

He frowned, “What is jealous?”

“Jealousy is a feeling. It’s when you care about somebody and you don’t want to share them. You want them to look at you, spend time with you, and care for you instead of others. It’s a feeling us humans feel a lot.”

“Hm,” He grunted, “Is that what this is?”

You chuckled, he was like a child in your hands right now. You pulled him closer, feeling the sigh of relief he let out at your embrace.

“Zhongli, you’re feeling new feelings and that’s okay. If you’ll be my magic teacher, I’ll be your human teacher, okay?” You squeezed him in your arms.

“Okay.” He agreed quietly.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that. Holding each other in the darkness, both of you were at peace even momentarily.

“You wanted me to have a familiar,” You kissed his cheek lightly, “As a part of my training. Xiao and I will spend time together often now. But you are my husband, my master, and that hasn’t changed. I promise, Zhongli.”

You pulled back to look at his face. He was blushing slightly which made a snicker leave your lips. His hair was loose and wild and his eyes were no longer empty but full of longing and adoration. The two of you had already seen so much together, your heart thumped even harder thinking of all the moments you’d spend together.

This man had taken you in and taught you magic. He’d sworn to save you from your curse of a short life span. He’d given you so much love and kindness. The time the two of you had spent together had only been a few short months but it filled you with joy.

His amber eyes bore into you, you could feel your face heating up as he continued to examine your infatuated expression. His palms trailed up to your face, and he pulled your lips onto his. The kiss was warm and sweet, innocent even.

“You are mine.” He whispered.

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“Where’s (y/n)?” Lumine peered at Xiao.

“With Zhongli in the garden,” Xiao grumbled, “Why’d you bring this brat?”

Lumine laughed as Aether climbed Xiao. She has brought cookies to share with her friend. Aether had also wanted to see the two who had saved them both only a year ago. Aether was obsessed with Xiao and his teal hair and tattoos.

Lumine smiled at Ganyu as she walked towards the back door. Ganyu nodded and opened the door for the young woman, letting her outside. It was a beautiful day, not too chilly and not too warm. The sun shone down and the blonde could hear your laughter from down the cobblestone path. She followed the sound, excited to see you.

As she approached the garden, she stopped seeing Zhongli twirl you around. She felt breathless seeing the two of you dancing in the sunlight. His long hair shimmered as he spun you around and caught you in his arms. The rings on your fingers twinkled and Zhongli took a flower and tucked it behind your ear. The tall man planted a kiss right on your lips and turned to Lumine, winking at her.

“Hey!” Lumine waved at you and Zhongli, “You’re finally back from the honeymoon. I brought cookies for you guys. Congratulations!”

You grinned and waved back at her. Lumine was overcome with bliss at the sight of your smile. Zhongli had really helped you grow more confident and you had opened him up more. The three of you ate cookies and laughed as Xiao barreled out, chased by Aether.

“Oh! How many kids will you have?” Lumine wiggled her eyebrows at you as you laughed at Aether.

“Kids?” Zhongli turned to you as you flushed at the question.

Lumine nodded, “Yes, when couples get married they usually have children and start a family.”

“Oi,” you laughed nervously, “We’ve only just got married..”

“Children would be nice,” Zhongli looked at you expectantly.

Xiao cackled at your embarrassment. As your familiar he could feel those strong emotions since you allowed him to. You glared daggers at the adeptus, but he only smirked. This was your karma for laughing at him while a child harassed him.

“Lots of them,” Zhongli muttered, “A big family.”

Your face only grew redder. Lumine laughed and Zhongli looked confused. You all spent the rest of the day talking of the future and munching on cookies.

[poormeowmeowcollector]

When In Doubt, Be A Snake

Warnings: snakes, physical contact with snakes, selective muteness

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki is having a bad day and you decide to comfort him. But you didn't expect certain copying mechanisms from them

Notes: inspired by this work by @bouncydragon also, the gif is not what Loki looks like, but it has the vibes

Read on AO3

You knock on Loki's door, balancing the tray of fruits and tea in your hand. "Can I walk in? I've got you some treats," you ask.

As you expected, no one answers.

"I'll count to three, if you don't say no, I'm walking in," you decide, slowly counting out loud. And, as you promised, you open the door after saying three.

The room is quiet, not a single sign of Loki. You sigh and sit on a nearby couch, waiting for something.

Until something shiny catches your eye in the bedroom. You walk closer, surprised when you see a green snake, just a bit longer than your arm, slithering around on the wooden floor.

"Hello, little one. How did you get here?" you ask. Snakes can hear, right? And they probably smelled you as well.

They turn their head to you, sticking their tongue out and wiggling it. "Are you friendly?" you wonder and kneel, watching as they stay still and stare at you. "You didn't attack me, so friendly. I have some snacks, your owner doesn't want them. Some fruits and things. Are you interested?" you ask as if the snake can answer. They crawl closer, bumping their head to your fingertip.

"The owner, as you idiotically said, is right here," Loki's voice echoes in your head, clear as a bell but with his actual accent instead of the Allspeak one. You stare at the snake again, noticing the black pattern and the golden patch on its head, almost like Loki's helmet.

"Loki, are you the snake?" you ask, regretting whatever life choice led you to this point. And the snake nods a yes. Okay, you're going insane.

"Okay, em… do you still want the fruits and tea? And, could we sit anywhere but the floor?" Loki lays his head on your hand this time.

"Yes, of course. Just go on the couch, I'll be there shortly," they hum and move back, waiting for you to leave. You nod and do as he said, waiting on the couch.

Instead of the snake, the actual Loki comes and sits beside you, handing over a piece of paper. You nod and start reading, letting Loki take your left hand and play with it since you know that they will start picking their own hands if you don't let them.

"Okay, and why did you turn back?" you ask, but your hand is more fascinating than your words. "You know, you could just cut off my hand and keep it," you scoff, almost to yourself.

But this time, Loki does respond with a low hm. "I said, why did you turn back? You wrote you're more comfortable as a snake," you repeat.

"Oh, it's easier to write when having hands," he answers, again using telepathy instead of language, and leaving your hand aside. Their green light covers them as they turn back to a snake, and snuggle near your thigh. "You can have the tea," he informs you.

You let them get comfortable and go fetch the tea from the coffee table, but Loki decides to crawl into your hand and towards the tray. "You can just ask for some," you sigh, feeling his retreat in your lap. "Do you want the whole bowl or just pieces?" Loki points at the bowl with their tail. You nod and leave it beside him on the couch.

But no matter what size Loki readjusts as, they cannot get a bite from there. "Could you lend me a nice mammalian hand?" he asks, staring at you with his big green eyes and flicking his tongue at you. You chuckle at the demand since being called a mammal is not exactly easy to get used to, and fetch a grape from the bowl, giving it to Loki.

As they try to eat it, their fangs bite you, venom making the wound sting. "Hey, be careful," you growl and press the bite, hoping the bleeding will stop. Loki bumps on it with his head, making it heal on a tickling light. "Thank you," you smile and pet their head before choosing another fruit.

This time, you lay the strawberry piece on your hand and let Loki take it from there. And he didn't bite you in the process. You let them tangle themselves around your armpit and rest their head near your wrist, ready for the next treat.

Apparently, snake Loki is much more gluttonous and has less impulse control than Æsir Loki. You didn't manage to take maybe five sips of your tea before he emptied the bowl. You know that actual snakes need to go hide in a hole for a few days after eating, but Loki doesn’t follow that pattern. Instead, they crawl in you and yank the rest of their cold and slippery body into your shirt, resting their head in your shoulder.

“If you even think of spitting those out on me, I will skin you and make gloves,” you snarl.

“Relax, I’m not a snake on the inside,” he reassures you. You sigh and choose to believe them, hoping they are right.

"Well, did anything happen?" you ask, taking a sip of your tea and watching as Loki gets bigger and snuggles harder against you.

"Why are you asking?" his voice never gets lower or higher, but you can feel how relaxed he is.

"Because, usually, something happens and you go mute. So, did something happen?" you don't consider thinking before speaking. But Loki has been used to this, luckily for both of you.

"Just remembered old things, nothing bad. It should be better after some time," they hum, trying to keep the calm tone. You don't answer, but move your hand up and scratch Loki's neck with your fingertip, feeling them relax under your touch, their tail flickering happily like a dog's.

"Do you feel like discussing them?" you ask, knowing all so well how much venting helps Loki. But he nods a no against your shoulder and hides beneath your sleeve.

There, they stop moving altogether, and you're sure they're falling asleep. So, you stop moving as well and act like the good pillow you apparently are.

He starts relaxing their body and gets crushed by his weight as he turns back to Asgardian, still clenching on you and ripping your shirt in the process. You sigh and decide not to move them, you don't know if the "remembering" of this old thing allowed them to get some decent rest and you won't take it away from them.

But you do remove his shoes and lay down, letting him fall with you and adjusting his body into something more comfortable. They react by moving in their sleep, turning to their side and changing your role from a pillow to a teddy bear. You hug the cold hands that hold you there, gazing at the moss green wall in front of you before the lack of movement makes you sleep as well.

You wake up at three in the morning, Loki still holding you close as he slowly wakes up as well. You turn around, giving in to the smile creeping out at the adorable image. Their eyes are still half-closed, trying to adjust to bring awaken, their lips are puffed and rosy, barely closing their mouth. His hair is in messy knots, edges pointing out here and there and his cheek has the texture of the knitted pillow printed on it from staying there for too long. You move a lock of hair away from their face, brushing their scalp as you pass it behind their ear.

"You know, you look adorable right now," you grin, almost disappointed at how he scoffs away your compliment. "No, I mean it," you insist. They turn away and hide their face in the pillow, but you can still see the blush turning their ears bright red.

"It burns like Hel, I hate you," he groans, voice low and throaty from either the sleep or the lack of usage.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around them and into a tight embrace. He freezes for a second, before curling back to you and holding you just there.

"You deserve a treat for feeling better. How about some ice cream?" you smile against their shoulder.

"It's three in the morning," he argues.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Crepes?" you snuggle on their neck.

"Crepes it is," you feel their chest shaking as they purr the words, pushing you away only so they can get up and straighten their shirt. You pass your elbow through his, grinning as you pace towards the kitchen to make those precious crepes.

~~~~~

Taglist[open]: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @the-emo-asgardian

[ura-writes]

Trampolinist - Part Two

Part summary: You encounter a few strange teenagers, discover blown-up ruins, and find out about who caused them.

Warnings: mild anxiety, thoughts of murder, blood, threats, lots of swears

A/N - I got a good few requests asking for a taglist for Trampolinist, so here it is! Just ask and you shall be added!

@lemonmochitea

@dad-ee-drea

@victoria-a567

Also, this is non-canon compliant, but only by a bit. I may change a few small details.

Hope y’all enjoy!

(Also, if you can find the movie reference I put in here, then kudos to you!)

——

A lingering curiosity sits in the back of your head for the rest of the week, not quelled by any amount of Bedwars or Skywars, which leave you exhausted in the evenings.

Even your dreams hold inquisitiveness.

How lovely.

Eventually you have to go back to your home world to check on your animals, repair your tools and the like. It’s tedious work, but nothing you can’t handle.

Boredom eventually sets in.

It’s unnerving. You never get bored of combat, of competition between your fellow players and teammates, but here you are, eyeing the list of servers on your grid.

Only two people are on the server at the moment, their names not available for whatever reason. You’d prefer to pop on when there were no people online, mostly to scope out the server, but you’ll take only having to deal with two people.

Hopefully they’re adults and not kids that recently learned to use portals.

You stick your pointer finger out, curl it like you’re dragging it down a wall; a ripple starts where your finger lands, slowly following its path downwards. It rips a hole through the fabric of woven servers, creating a direct link to the Dream SMP. You just hope that no one attempts to close the portal, as opening one in the first place takes a good deal of energy and effort.

A sight of spruce trees and misplaced dirt greets your vision through the rip in reality.

An odd spawnpoint, but whatever. You’re not one to judge.

In the corner of your eye, where chat normally sits, a message pops up.

TommyInnit: who the fcuck

TommyInnit: what

TommyInnit: NEWY PERFHSAON

Ranboo: ah yes, perfhsaon

TommyInnit: shut the fuck n up

You chuckle at the messages rapidly crowding the chat, watching them fade idly while trying to find a way out of the really weird spawnpoint, which is, for some reason, walled off by a combination of dirt, wood and stone haphazardly placed down, as if in a hurry.

Your efforts do not go unrewarded as you spot a section of the wall that sits lower than the rest, low enough to climb over if you try hard enough.

Perfect.

Feet hit the ground rapidly as you get a running start towards the wall, scrambling upward after you jump. You fall almost immediately off the other side.

“Ouch.”

“That looked like that hurt.”

You glance upward to meet heterochromic eyes, red and green contrasting with the curious face split in half by its black and white sides. A tail flicks behind the person as their crown slips a bit down their head.

“Wh—the fuck?”

The figure laughs at your reaction, offering a gloved hand out to help you off the ground. Hesitantly, you accept, being pulled up easily, and that’s when you realize that he’s a lot taller than you thought.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” you comment idly, brushing yourself off. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem. I’m Ranboo.”

You introduce yourself with your tag, which elicits a hum of recognition from him, much to your pleasant shock and surprise.

“You’re the person that Dream invited, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh.”

He laughs at your quip at him, smiling with sharp fangs exposed to the midday sunlight. No point in judging a person on their (potentially, anyway) monstrous features.

“Well, you probably need a tour—“

He’s quickly interrupted by a loud “hey!”

“Oh great,” you mutter, crossing your arms. Ranboo looks a bit sheepish at your cocked eyebrow and slightly irritated expression, scratching his bi-colored hair.

“That’s Tommy. He’s uh… well, Tommy.”

A teenager wearing a red and white shirt and jeans with battered sneakers comes sprinting out of the nearby forest, coming to a halt just in front of you.

“New person!”

“Yeah, and what are you, the gremlin that got fed after midnight?”

The kid sputters out a few protests against being called a gremlin, sprinkling a good few swears in his jumbled sentences that mostly consist of rambles.

When Tommy gets his bearings, he eyes your tag, squinting at it suspiciously before his eyes widen in recognition.

“You’re the bastard that beat the shit out of me in Bedwars! Get ove’ here—“

One of Ranboo’s arms shoots out to grab the lanky teenager with ease to stop his potential assault on you. You just brush your nails off on your shirt.

“Oi! Lemme a’em!”

“No, Tommy, remember what Tubbo said?” Ranboo lectures, tail flicking in annoyance, eyes trained on him. “Remember?”

“You’re one to talk about rememberin’.”

Ranboo cocks an eyebrow.

“No punchin’ people we don’t know unless they’ve hurt us…” Tommy grumbles. “Can ya lemme go now?”

Ranboo agrees, letting go of his shirt and summoning a journal and quill to write something down in, muttering that he’s almost out of ink.

“Anyway, how about that tour now?”

You smile at him.

Maybe you’ll like this place.

——

“...and this is L’Manburg… or what’s left of it, anyway. It’s still being rebuilt.”

“How’d it get destroyed?” you ask him. “It takes a lot of TNT, Withers and dedication to destroy a city this big.”

I should know.

Tommy eyes Ranboo.

“Hey, it’s your city. I’m not explaining it,” Ranboo defends against the wordless accusation. Tommy exhales with a groan and begins his explanation.

“Wil-Wilbur, my brother, went a bit insane a few months back, blew it all up with Technoblade’s help. Wil’s… well, he’s dead.” Tommy sounds indifferent about the death, much to your surprise.

You nod absentmindedly, setting your eyes on a slightly obscured poster that flaps in the wind. When you get close enough to pin it down it reads:

Wanted: Dead or Alive. High Treason, Inciting Violence, Unlawful Use of Explosives, Extreme Terrorism.

Reward: See Authorities

Below that is a well-painted picture of a man you somewhat recognize, wearing a red cape, a crown, full enchanted Netherite armor and carrying an axe that seems to shimmer in the light.

Technoblade. You’ve had a few run-ins with him playing Bedwars and Skywars, even teaming up with him a few times. He always seemed nice enough, and certainly a damn good sword fighter. He always knew when to run and when to stand and fight, when to attack and when to defend.

“What did he do?”

Ranboo starts to speak, but Tommy interrupts him.

“Blew the rest o’ this place up. Bastard ran after that.” Tommy all but spits the words out of his mouth, like they’re acid or venom. “Fookin’ coward.”

Well, I wouldn’t call ‘knowing when to run’ cowardice, but we’ll pretend I agree, child.

“No one knows where he is now,” Ranboo adds. “Except Phil, of course. But he’s pretty much silent about it. Won’t give up a word of information.”

Shouldn’t be that hard to find one man, you muse to yourself. Bet I could.

“Well, I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” you lie with a smile plastered on your lips. “Y’know, as a sort of gift to you as the newest member of the server.”

Hah, as if.

“We’ll hold you to that.”

You nod and say your goodbyes, walking towards the central nether portal while keeping an eye out for an ender chest so you can get some of your stuff. You know the admin will take your elytra away if it so much as comes into contact with the server’s air, so you decide not to risk it.

Spotting one, you make a small noise of triumph and dart over there, grabbing the shulker with your stuff in it, transferring it to your inventory with a practiced ease.

Armor adorns your figure, enchanted Netherite striking an imposing silhouette against the blackstone beneath your feet. You twirl your sword with a grin.

Now to find Technoblade.

——

Turns out, finding a piglin hybrid is not easy.

You scoured the Nether for any sign of him, any trace of fabric, of a broken pickaxe, hell even a piece of iron he may have held. The ability you hold as a Jumper not only allows you to jump servers, but also allows you to find people if you have something of theirs.

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nil. Absolutely jack shit.

How can one man be so difficult to track down?

Just as you’re about to give up, a barrage of curses at the tip of your tongue, a glint of iron catches your eye.

Odd.

Hopping over a cluster of Netherrack and scaring off a few baby Striders, you see a small circle of iron sitting in a pile of red dust, looking dented and beat up.

You huff and brush the dust off of it, titling your head to the side when it reveals itself.

A compass, pointing in one direction, working even in the Nether.

Standing up, you pocket it and head to the nearest portal, jumping through to the other side only to grab the compass out of your pocket as you walk to who-knows-where. It still points in the same direction as before, only moving when you do.

An irregularity in the metal against your hand inspires you to flip the compass over to look at the back.

What lies there makes you smirk.

Technoblade’s cabin. Phil’s compass.

This might be easier than you initially thought.

:)

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T: The Price to Pay

Hello welcome back to actually whumping Erebus 💕 I missed his screams

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: tooth whump, noncon body modification, noncon touching (unsexy)

Far too soon, Erebus found himself immobilized and staring up at Zander the rat once again. They’d let him keep his shirt on this time, but that wasn’t exactly reassuring as that made it much more likely that she was going to mess with his face or somewhere else that would be difficult to hide. 

That is, if he ever even got the luxury of hiding the thing he was turning into.

Neteri came over, returning his wary gaze with a beaming smile. “How’s my favorite test subject?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m your only test subject.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love ya.” She ruffled his hair affectionately, and he hated that he was starting to like it when she touched him like that. “And even if I had other ones, you’d still be my favorite.”

“That so.”

“Yeah! You’re just so cute and well-behaved.” 

“I-I’m just not stupid. I know fighting doesn’t do me any good. I’m not doing it for you or anything.”

“And that’s perfectly fine, as long as the end result is the same!” She gave his head one final pat before turning and putting her gloves on. “Now, let’s get started. This should be pretty quick and easy since we’re...going to take things a little more slowly. Well okay not slowly but just...sticking to my original plan. Which means starting with the simpler procedures and working our way up. In conclusion, today really won’t be anything too bad.” She patted his cheek. “Open up.”

“I still don’t-ahh.” Erebus was expecting her to gag him again, but he felt his stomach drop when she shoved the rubber block in between his teeth instead. If she wasn’t going to do something to his tongue again, that meant...she wasn’t going to mess with his teeth, was she? 

She held up a pair of pliers, confirming his worst fears. His abject terror must have shown on his face, as she gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his hand in her gloved one. “Just two, okay? I’ll be quick, I promise. And it’s either this or I give you a tail, which I assume you don’t want a tail.” Erebus tried to shake his head, because he most certainly did not want a tail, but the strap around his forehead prevented him from moving much. “Uh, thumbs up if you don’t want a tail and thumbs down if-wait no you can’t move your wrist.” She stared into space for a moment before coming to the solution Erebus had been thinking of from the beginning, which was pulling the rubber block out of his mouth so he could speak.

“No, I don’t want a tail,” he said tiredly. “I really don’t want you to...to pull my teeth either, but if I had to pick between the two...I’d really rather not have a tail.”

“You sure? It would be a cool tail. Venomous.”

“I am now even more sure that I absolutely do not want it.”

“You’re no fun.” She shoved the block back in, and Erebus found himself a little bit calmer, because at least he sort of chose this. Not that he in any way consented to what she was about to do to him, but he preferred it over the alternative, which was guaranteed to make him feel completely inhuman. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing as she started to move towards his mouth.

The sensation of the pliers against his tooth was...unpleasant, to say the least. The cold, hard metal scraped against it, sending horrific echoes through his skull. His heart started beating even faster as their grip tightened and he felt her start to pull. Was she even strong enough to do this oh Drottkia there was so much pressure building up but he knew once it gave it would-

Hurt like hell, lighting up his entire face with agony oh it felt like someone had stabbed the spot his tooth used to be with a molten nail and he tried not to scream he really did there was blood dripping down into the back of his throat and already something cold and wet was pressing into the tender flesh around the hole she’d just made it was so cold and one, two, three now it was itching, burning, agonizingly white-hot and there was nothing, nothing else besides anguish as the foreign tooth wormed its way in.

At some point after the pain mostly died out, Neteri removed the block, allowing him to relax his jaw. He tried to catch his breath as he did so, his throat already raw from screaming. Hesitantly, he moved his tongue towards the new tooth, foolishly hoping it wasn’t-it was.

A fang. A long, sharp fang. He had a fang. 

And in a few minutes, he was getting another one.

“You did so well, bud, halfway done,” Neteri reassured as she gently wiped some of the blood from around his mouth. “Can you bite together for me?” He begrudgingly did so, resisting the pointless urge to bite her as she examined the new tooth. It hadn’t aligned quite right, and it took a few tries for her to get it right, each time involving her painfully twisting it with the pliers.

When Erebus’s upper and lower jaws finally fit together properly, she shoved the block back in and gripped his remaining canine with the pliers. He hoped he’d never have to feel pliers in his mouth after today, they were so hard and cold and-hurt hurt hurt they hurt so much pulling pulling the pressure’s building up again I want this over with but I’m scared to feel that pain again but you chose it and you deserve it because you failed so endure it even as the agony stabs you in the skull even as you can’t stop screaming even as the magic burns and forces another fang into your mouth you have to endure because it’s all you can do anymore endure it endure it endure it

Thankfully, the second tooth didn’t need as much adjusting as the first, and soon enough Erebus found himself breathing a sigh of relief that at least the pain was over, even if the effects of what had just happened would be with him forever. Neteri patted him and praised him before calling in the guards, saying she’d come by his cell to check on him once she got everything cleaned up.

Back in the cell, Erebus stood in front of the mirror, as had become his weird sort of ritual after a procedure. The blood around his mouth was something he’d seen before, but as for what was inside...he knew they were there, he could feel them in there. A part of him knew, though, that once he saw them, there was no going back. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

The fangs were so, so apparent. They were noticeably longer than the teeth that had been there before had been, even if they weren’t as long as he had originally feared, but they looked as sharp as they felt. Once again, he couldn’t help but feel like he was some sort of monster, since he was certainly starting to look the part. He closed his jaw, hesitantly pulling his lips back into a smile-and oh, oh, that was horrific, no, no, absolutely no one would ever see that without wanting to run for their life. Maybe it was for the best that he never felt like smiling much these days. 

When Neteri came in a few minutes later, Erebus was laying on his bed, curled around his pillow as he stared blankly ahead. She crouched in front of him, head cocked to the side. “Your mouth doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, it’s fi-ow.” In trying to say that he felt physically alright, he’d accidentally nicked his lower lip.

“Aw, poor thing,” Neteri chuckled sympathetically, reaching up and healing the little puncture with a tap of her finger and a spark of magic. “You’ll get used to them eventually.” Erebus elected not to respond, simply looking away. Why did she think she was in any position to feel sorry for him when she was the one causing him all this pain in the first place? And for what? He didn’t move as she stood up, but he was startled when she gently scooped up his head, sitting down in the spot where it had been before letting it drop back down. Onto her lap.

He panicked slightly, trying to sit up, but she held him down. “It’s alright, Erebus. Just lie still.” He opened his mouth to protest, but how was he supposed to explain that he didn’t want to be comforted this way, that he didn’t want to associate this feeling with her, that this was something only his mother (and Lythia, on a couple wonderful occasions) had done with him? Thoughts of both of them, of his life before all this, of his home, started to overwhelm him, and before he knew it he was crying. Again.

Neteri didn’t say a word, simply stroking his hair and rubbing his back as he clutched the pillow and sobbed about anything and everything. He missed his father and his home and his bed and his friends and the palace gardens and his freedom and having control over his own body and not being chained up all the time and how, how could Neteri act like she cared about him while she was cutting him into pieces he wished she would just stop because part of him was starting to like her and want her to do things like stroke his hair and that was wrong he shouldn’t like the person who-who owned him because he was owned he was he knew it deep down and he’d never admit it but it was true and he hated it and he wished he could hate her and he didn’t see how things would ever, ever be okay again and he was powerless to do anything but cry as the woman who was keeping him captive imitated the love of people he’d never see again.

At some point after he started to calm down, he felt one of Neteri’s hands leave him and opened his eyes to see that she was holding something in front of his face. “Here, I found this when I was going through my bag the other day. Did you want to keep it?” she said as she held out a light blue ribbon, the one she’d pulled out of his hair before cutting it off. The ribbon that had belonged to his mother. He quickly snatched it up and held it close to his chest, afraid of losing it again. 

“Thanks,” Erebus said quietly, rubbing the familiar silk between his fingers. It really did mean a lot to him to have this little piece of his old life, even if his hair was nowhere near long enough to tie it in. 

“Of course.” She stroked his hair a few more times before giving him a final pat and sliding out from underneath his head. He sat up and wiped the last few tears out of his eyes, not even flinching when her hand slid under his chin and tilted it up slightly. “Erebus, I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk about anything, you can just let me know, alright? I understand if you don’t want to, given, uh,” her other hand poked at the tag attached to his collar, “but if you do...I’m here, okay?” He just nodded, despite the fact that he sincerely doubted he’d ever take her up on that offer. Accepting comfort like he’d just done was bad enough.

After Neteri left, Erebus looked down at the ribbon, wondering what he should do with it. The thought of tying it to his collar crossed his mind, but he decided against it. He didn’t want something his mother had touched anywhere near that awful thing. His wrist, then? Not his right one, not on that foreign arm that he still hadn’t had any luck in transforming. He settled on his left wrist, tying it rather sloppily since he could only use one hand to make the knot. 

Looking at it, thinking of everything he’d lost, Erebus realized that despite everything, despite how miserable he was, despite how much he wanted to escape this place, he still didn’t want to die. He didn’t know if it was hope that things would get better, fear of death, or something else entirely, but he realized that he wanted to live. He wanted to survive.

And if he needed to accept Neteri’s comfort every so often in order to keep himself sane, then so be it.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump @unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles @itallstartedwithharry @inky-whump

[heartbeatan]

Devil's Garden: Chapter 4

Return to Chapter 3.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Taehyung Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist

Chapter 4

You fucking idiot, Taehyung cursed himself when everything clicked. He knew that name. Stintsons. Fuck! He even wrote it down, double-underlined it so he could come back to it. He had the missing piece in his fucking hands for two days. He could have saved you from this. All he had to do was just been a detective for a fucking second, instead of fucking around with his thoughts of fucking his married client.

“He understands,” Mina’s gazed moved to Taehyung when your face showed no signs of overcoming confusion. He could see you turn to him in his periphery, but he didn’t look back. He had no time now to sympathize or explain, or to feel embarrassment or shame for not picking up on the connection sooner.

“We have no idea what he’s been up to, or what he does, and we don’t want to know,” Taehyung spoke, trying to keep his voice from vibrating in anger. “Let us go. We won’t talk to anyone; we’ll forget he exists. Erase him.”

“What?!” you breathed out at his proclamation. He winced wishing you had just kept still instead.

“I don’t think so,” said Mina. “Like I said, you showing up today is of great convenience to me, given the circumstance. I’m going to need you to do something for me first.”

Taehyung sighed and closed his eyes. When it comes to the mob, you never just “do something first.” That “doing something” leads to more doings, to incrimination, until you’re trapped, in jail or dead.

“I’ll do it. Whatever you want, just let her go. She doesn’t need to be apart of this,” he finally adjusted his tone towards Mina in his attempt at a plea. The corner of her mouth pulled up in a smug satisfaction to finally see him grovel.

“She’s already involved,” Mina said as she turned to walk out of the room. “It’s you I don’t need. So, you decide how long you’ll be sticking around. But…” she pointed her finger towards you, “…she’s not going anywhere.” The two burly men followed her, closing the door behind them, leaving you alone. But Taehyung knew they would be back soon.

“What does she want?” you turned to Taehyung the moment the door closed. “Is she going to kill us?”

“I know we just met,” Taehyung cut you off before you could spin out. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to listen to everything I say from here on.”

“I do trust you, Taehyung,” you responded without missing a beat. His gaze darted to your eyes immediately, shocked by how easily those words slipped from your tongue, knowing that trust was something he wasn’t worthy of. “But you heard her. She doesn’t need you. You should leave if she’ll let you.”

“No,” he said firmly, ensuring you received the message without question. “This is my fault. I’m gonna get you out of this.”

“It’s not your…” your retort was interrupted when the door swung open with an industrial squeal.

The two men had returned. The brute, the one who had clocked Taehyung not long ago with his fist, pulled a knife off his waist and headed towards you. Your body tensed, leaning back into the chair as if you would be able to escape him.

“No!” Taehyung called, his heart beginning to pound. “No!” he called again, this time pulling hard at the ties around his wrists, nearly breaking skin as he did.

The man reached you, and with a strong grip pinned your arm still against the chair. He then dug the blade between your wrist and the zip-tie, and with a smooth flick the band snapped in half and fell underwhelmingly to the floor.

Taehyung let out a heavy breath, and he was fairly sure you did to. They were just releasing you from your confines, but he wanted to kick the man’s ass for being so fucking dramatic about it.

Once your second wrist was free, he turned the blade around, pointing the handle in your direction to take it. Rubbing your wrists, you looked back up at him, unsure what he was asking. The man nodded in Taehyung’s direction, and taking the blade, you understood what he was asking.

“Don’t try anything funny,” he said as you knelt before Taehyung and worked away at relieving his wrists of the zip-ties.

As Taehyung watched your trembling hands do so, his mind began to wander and plot. What if he took the knife from you? Could he overpower these brutes? Sink the blade into their necks? Take you by the hand and make a break for the exit? Adrenaline began to course through his veins as he thought about it, his body on edge ready to act the moment the second tie was removed – but, as he looked down at you, the dried blood still staining your face and hair, he realized that if you were both going to make it out in one piece, he would need to take a softer, more rational approach.

Now both released, you handed the knife back to your captor who returned it to its sheath. He then roughly grabbed you behind the elbow and pushed you in the direction of the door before he turned to Taehyung to do the same.

You walked down a long corridor, the floor covered in an aged carpet tile and the walls a large, off-white brick. You were in an office.

Is this…? Taehyung thought to himself until a door opened and you were both pushed out into the sunlight. It was. You were at Stintsons… Ezra’s office to be exact.

“Take this,” someone shoved an old cellphone into your hands. So old it had one of those walkie-talkie features on it. He flicked the dial for channel 04 and you could hear a static beep. “Don’t turn it off. Follow everything we say.” He then ushered you towards a car.

“You’ll drive,” someone slapped a set of keys into Taehyung’s hand and pushed him as well in the direction of the car. “Watch for speed bumps.”

Fuck, Taehyung said under his breath.

He climbed into the driver’s side, with you sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat. His eyes scanned the car quickly for anything that could be of value before checking the mirrors. He could see people climb into an SUV behind you. He looked forward and saw another party doing the same in a truck ahead.

“You’re gonna take Industrial to the 17, then make a right at the second light,” a voice came through the soundwaves.

Taehyung took a long breath through his nose, then closed his eyes as he pressed the clutch and turned the ignition. The engine – to his relief – roared to life without incident. He sure as fuck hoped Mina’s people knew what they were doing.

Before he put the car in first, he looked over to you. He didn’t know yet if he should tell you, but you looked calm – given the circumstance – as you sat next to him in your hoodie, holding the phone in your palm.

“Tuck your hair into your sweater,” Taehyung said. “Then pull your hood all the way up.”

You looked back at him inquisitively, but you did as he asked – brushing the strands off your face and tucking it all into the hood as he pulled the car out into the street.

“Pull it down as much as you can,” he insisted. “And look down the whole time we’re driving. Don’t look up at the CCTVs.” You understood then, he wanted you to hide from the cameras. It seemed counterintuitive, given that you were the ones being held captive, but you said you’d listen.

“How about you?” you inquired, noting he had nothing to protect his identity.

“Check the glove box,” he said, and you did. Finding it empty, but you didn’t stop there. You check the centre console, then stretched into the back, dipping your hands into the seat pockets in search of anything you could use.

“Ah ha!” you exclaimed as you returned to the front with a ballcap brandishing the Stintsons company logo across the front.

He took the cap and popped it onto his head, pulling the beak down as much as he could to hopefully protect his face enough.

“Take the next left,” a voice came through the phone again. Taehyung did as he was asked but noticed the SUV behind him had continued on straight, leaving your tail. You notice the truck you had been following hadn’t taken the left either.

“Why are they just leaving us like this?” you asked.

“There’s a bomb in this car,” he replied.

“What?!” you exclaimed. “How do you know that?”

“Stintson’s is just a front for the Uzo-Tuk.”

“You mean the gang?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded. “They’re more than a gang. They’re a powerful crime ring. Drugs. Money. Weapons. People.”

“You better make that fucking light,” the voice came through the phone again. Taehyung peered up to see the yellow light too many meters ahead of him. But he did as he was asked, hitting the gas and speeding through the intersection. You grabbed the handle above the door, holding on for life and to your breath as the car rushed the intersection.

You made it through, though. An angry screech of a horn and a fuck you from a pedestrian you made it through the light as instructed.

“You think Ezra knew it was a front?” you asked when your stomach had settled from the rush.

“He was supposed to do a job for them, Y/N,” he didn’t mean for his tone to come off as patronizing, but it did. “I think he more than knew.”

“How do you know there’s a bomb?”

“It’s just their M.O. They park a car next to a target and then set it off remotely.”

“Was this what Ezra was supposed to do for them?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s on the next corner. Pull up to the curb as close as you can,” the final instruction came through the phone. “Then walk through the alley across the street and up the hill. Bring the phone.”

“Get out as soon as we park,” Taehyung said as he pulled the car towards the curb. “Keep your head down, take my hand. Don’t run.”

The car had barely reached a halt when you swung the door open. You made your way around the front as Taehyung close the driver’s door behind him. You took his hand as he had asked, kept your face low, and he guided you in a hurried stride across the street and towards the alley. The crumbled road ended in just a few metres, and led to a steep, dusty staircase that led from to a parking lot that elevated above the buildings. Henchmen greeted you when you reached the top, grabbing you roughly and dragging you towards the rest of the group.

Several of them held beers in their hands or a joint in their mouth while they laughed and joshed as if they were at a party. You had stayed glued to Taehyung’s side the best you could. He assumed you, smartly, were trying to stay out of the line of any of their sights. But it didn’t work. Taehyung watched as one of them, he appeared to be the leader, adorning a white tank exposing his sleeves of tattoos, looked over to you next to Taehyung and in an instant he knew he wasn’t going to leave you be.

“Hey, girly,” he called to you. “Come here for a second.”

“Leave her alone, man,” Taehyung groaned, trying to be as non-cholent as possible. But the man didn’t like that. So he walked up to the two of you, adjusting his presence to appear as menacing as he could, and pointing his finger in Taehyung’s face.

“I wasn’t fucking talking to you… MAN,” he said, and Taehyung almost laughed at his pathetic display of macho-ness. “Come here,” he said again to you, but this time grabbing a hold of your wrist and dragging you away. Strong hands grabbed Taehyung from behind, being sure he wouldn’t follow or try something. The tattoo’d man brought you to a spot on the ledge, so you could oversee the buildings below with perfect clarity. “You see that?” he pointed down to the street. “That’s the car you drove, right?” You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need you to answer. Instead, he pulled a phone from his pocket, tapped through the buttons until he handed it to you. “When I say, push the 'call' button.”

“Don’t fucking do it, man,” Taehyung called out. “Don’t make her do it!” How fucking cruel could these people be? Taehyung could see your expression change as you realized what was happening. You weren’t being asked to call someone – he wanted you to set off the bomb.”

“No. No, no, no,” you refuted as you pushed the phone away from you. “No, please. I can’t do that.”

“C’mon, baby. You can,” he patronized you with a disgustingly flirtatious tone. Taehyung jerked, trying to get a heavy hand off his shoulder.

“She’s not apart of this!” Taehyung called out again. “Just leave her out of it!” The hands holding him tightened their grip and he tried again to shake them off, but it only earned him a solid punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and kiltered over.

“Don’t!” you screamed when another one kicked Taehyung hard in the ribs, and you too tried to break away to come to his side, but the man had you held tightly. You turned and spat in his face. It was instinctive. You didn’t even realize you’d done it until it was too late. You didn’t have the time to consider how reckless it was, but before you could even think of what to do next a heavy hand clapped hard across your jaw, knocking you flat onto the earth.

“Fuck you!” Taehyung spat as he swung and arm trying to injure anyone near him.

Then… he heard a click, and his heart stopped.

He looked back. You were still on the ground. Mr. Tattoos standing above you, his arm stretched forward, in his hand a silver gun, arrogance lining his features, and rage making his veins visibly pop even under their array of ink. He wasn’t pointing the gun at you though. He was pointing it at Taehyung.

Everyone at the scene froze. It felt like someone had hit the pause button on a movie. It was possible at that moment that oxygen was no longer a human requirement, since no one on scene was taking any in.

“Stand up,” tattoos spoke, his command directed at you. Taehyung watched as your gaze followed from the gun to the place it was pointed, and when you saw it was pointed at Taehyung, when you realized that if you didn’t behave then something terrible was going to happen, you pulled yourself from the ground.

Taehyung wanted to call out again, but the stakes were too high now. But it hurt him to think about what this was going to do to you. Hurt him more knowing he could have been the one to keep you from this.

“Take this,” the man said as he handed you back the phone. “And when I say… you fucking push the button. Or else, your boyfriend here is dead.”

You looked back at Taehyung one last time. Your eyes filled with terror, and already filled with guilt and grief. Taehyung could tell you were asking him if it was alright. He nodded solemnly, although he didn’t know what your decision was going to be. Him? Or those innocent people, down there, on the street.

“Okay,” said tattoos. “Push it.”

[stonecoldsilly]

Thirty Days of Transience

Read on Ao3

The echoes of the song fade away from the valley, and Geralt sighs.

‘Look, bard, as fun as this was, and really, it was a fucking riot, are you going to fuck off at all?’

The boy blinks up at him and grins.

‘Nope,’ he says, popping his lips obnoxiously.

Geralt didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, but a sinking feeling descends upon him anyway.

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘This was a very successful first outing. You make a fantastic muse, truly you do. Already I can almost hear the applause we shall receive on our triumphant return!’

First outing, thinks Geralt, and outright panics. Fuck that.

He spurs Roach into a canter, and leaves the boy behind in the dust, hooting and hollering after him.

Evening falls. His camp is set up some ways into the woods, and he has a fat little hare on the spit. Roach is snuffling away in her nosebag happily, and Geralt is just settling down to note down the details of the incident in his bestiary when his ears prick up. A heartbeat, human, about half a mile off, and dreadfully familiar…

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He groans aloud, and Roach sympathises. ‘He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.’ She waves her tail in his direction meaningfully, and Geralt waits. He is not going to dismantle his entire camp and flee from one little human, he is not…

The boy stumbles through the bracken towards the light of the campfire eventually, making enough racket to alert predators for miles around, and squinting directly into the light, ruining his admittedly already limited night vision completely. Idiot.

‘Ah, hello, Geralt. Come here often?’ He grins, and sets his lute down carefully, before slumping on the nearest log with a sigh.

Geralt just stares at him. That turns out to be a mistake, because the bard takes it as an opportunity to start talking.

‘Not that I didn’t appreciate the view, the mighty Witcher and his steed riding into the sunset, but really, that was downright indecorous of you, heading off without even a farewell.’

Geralt can’t quite believe this little pipsqueak is trying to scold him about his manners. His heartrate is steady, he’s not sweating with fear, he just looks up at Geralt sternly.

Geralt snaps his head around to look at him, letting his pupils dilate fully. He bares his teeth, sharp canines glinting in the firelight, and growls, ‘What are you doing here, bard?’

The boy just looks at him, placid as anything. Not even a tinge of fear.

‘You saved my life.’ He says, solemnly. ‘I certainly didn’t do anything to persuade Filavandrel otherwise, you did.’

Geralt frowns at him, and the bard cracks a little smile.

‘And if the, er, forgive me, if the so-called ‘Meat-Purveyor of Certain Unnamed Market Towns’, if you will, can talk down the quite justly furious Filavandrel, then it makes me start to question certain common beliefs, as it were.’

He just stares, and the boy unpacks his new lute carefully, angling it up to the firelight and admiring the finish.

‘I am what they call me.’ Geralt manages, after several minutes.

‘And what things they call you.’ The boy says, glancing at him briefly. Their eyes only meet for a moment, but still Geralt feels pinned by it.

He goes on the defensive.

‘It makes no difference to me what they call me. I neither need nor want a barker.’

‘Allow me to try.’

‘No.’ He says flatly.

The boy sighs, and sets the lute down gingerly, before swivelling to face him and resting his elbows on his knees.

‘Look, Geralt, at this point what on earth have you possibly got to lose? If you would simply let me at least make the attempt…’

Geralt grits his teeth and glares at him.

‘You could die. You nearly died once today already, you said so yourself. And then I get whoever your people are, swearing vengeance on me, and making things worse. This life is not safe.’

‘I could die tomorrow, of an apoplexy, or at the end of some bandit’s sword. No life is safe.’

‘You would only get in the way.’ Geralt tries.

‘I promise. I only mean to be a help, truly, not a hindrance.’

‘You don’t even have any supplies. No pack, no bedroll, no food. I am not babysitting you.’

The boy winks at him, and shoves his arm down into his trousers quickly, before revealing a handful of rather battered looking bread rolls.

Geralt blinks at him.

‘Told you I had bread in my pants.’ He says, and winks. Geralt almost cracks then, and he can feel a smile trying to form before he schools his expression.

‘Come on, Geralt, let me try. I owe you my life, and I put no little stock in that. It’s the only one I shall have, and I’m rather pleased with it so far. Give me a chance, and I can make things easier for you. For your kind. Change the bastards’ minds, prove them all wrong. Come on.’

Geralt considers this carefully, and pokes at the hare a bit with his stick.

The bard waits, seemingly content to let Geralt respond at his own pace.

‘What’s in it for you?’ He asks, genuinely puzzled.

‘Inspiration. Protection. An education in the wilder side of living, as it were.’

Geralt snorts.

‘Think of it as a business transaction, if you prefer. An equal exchange. In return for graciously allowing me to witness your talents at work, I will provide companionship, assistance, and an improved reputation.’

Gods help him, but the boy is persuasive.

‘I don’t need companionship. I’ve managed this long just fine without assistance…’ He sighs. ‘But I’ll concede on the last point.’

The bard grins like a fox.

‘Give me a year.’

‘A year?’ Geralt splutters. ‘A week would be too long. You escaped the King of the Elves today bard, isn’t that enough inspiration to be getting on with?’

‘I do not intend to let Destiny slip through my fingers.’ He says, smiling faintly. ‘Who knows what foes you will face next? I would not miss a one. A year, if you please.’

‘A week.’

‘My, you are an accomplished haggler aren’t you. Far more practiced than I, of course. However, and you must concede the point here my dear Witcher, I must admit, even I cannot charm an entire Continent into submission in a week, although I do appreciate the flattery. A month, to ply my trade, and prove myself a worthy travel companion, and if you are not satisfied thirty days hence, then we shall part as strangers once more.’

Geralt leans forward himself then and wags his stick in the boy’s direction.

‘You cannot get in the way.’

He plasters a very convincingly serious expression on his face, but his eyes are dancing with barely repressed glee.

‘I swear it.’

‘You have to do as I say.’

‘Within reason. But I will concede to your expertise.’

‘If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say, bard, fetch me three strands of white Holly and two hedgehog quills, what do you do?’

‘Speaking honestly, I’d probably say ‘Geralt, what the fuck, how am I supposed to know what white holly is?’, but I appreciate the sentiment. Complete obedience, within reason, at your disposal.’

‘Hmm.’ Geralt says.

The boy’s leg betrays his eagerness, bouncing nervously even as he watches Geralt’s face with an innocent expression.

‘Fine. You have your month.’ He says, regretting it already.

‘Yes! You won’t regret this Geralt, really you won’t.’ He jumps to his feet and steps closer, smiling.

‘Shake on it.’ He says, commandingly, and Geralt just huffs, but reaches up anyway. ‘Gloves off Geralt, for goodness sake, let’s be civil.’

He peels off his leathers, outright baffled by this bright little human, bossing him about as if Geralt couldn’t snap him in half easily as breathing. The boy takes his bare hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and shakes it sincerely, as if he were any other man, as if his word meant anything to humans, as if he genuinely doesn’t believe the tales.

This whole day has been full of marvels.

The boy grins at him again, radiating only a fresh-apple scent that is surprisingly pleasant. It bodes well in a travel companion. For a half a second, he dares to be vaguely optimistic, until the bard opens his mouth again.

‘Now that the business talk is dealt with, care to share your hare?’

He snickers at his own joke, and Geralt sighs, but divvies it up into two portions anyway. The boy throws him a bread roll in exchange, and they eat in peace and quiet on opposite sides of the little fire until he clears his throat again.

‘About the er, sleeping arrangements. Not to be indelicate Geralt, but I, er, haven’t any.’

Geralt swallows around his suddenly rather dry mouthful of hare, and blinks rather owlishly at the boy, uncertain as to what he’s asking.

‘See, I know we only met this morning, but I’m rather fond of you already. And as business partners, I feel we have already managed to jump the hurdle of strangers getting to know one another, and gone headfirst into the hitherto unexplored territory of acquaintances.’

Geralt just sits, taken aback, and mouths business partners to himself. He ignores the ‘rather fond’ part for fear of his own sanity, never mind the bard’s.

‘Without beating around the bush, as it were, after one’s newfound acquaintance saves one’s life, it becomes very difficult to believe that one’s er, virtue is imperiled by said acquaintance.’

Geralt nearly chokes.

‘What.’ He wheezes.

‘Well I just thought, it’s a rather chilly evening, and perhaps, if it wouldn’t inconvenience you awfully, if you wouldn’t mind possibly adjusting your usual nightly routine to accommodate myself?’

‘What?’

The boy sighs, gesturing grandly.

‘Geralt, to put it plainly, I am cold. I have no bedroll in my possession. I should like, in short, to share your bedroll, under the proviso that no hanky-panky take place without prior permission from both parties.’

‘Hanky-panky?’ He repeats, helplessly. The boy is pretty, and well-formed, but Geralt honestly hadn’t even thought as far ahead as hanky, let alone panky.

‘I will require another handshake.’ The boy says, meeting his gaze firmly.

‘I can sleep on the ground.’ He says quickly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The boy says primly. ‘The entire concept of my presence at your side is to be a help, not a hindrance. And you need to be in top shape, I’d have thought, with all those beasties to fight, eh?’

‘I can stand guard.’

‘I’m not having you loom over me all night, that hardly sounds conducive to a good night’s sleep.’

Geralt looks about the campsite wildly, searching for the last scraps of reason.

‘I..’

‘Come on Geralt, some of us have walked bloody miles today, shake on it, there’s a good chap, then we can settle in for the evening.’

He stares, bewildered, as the boy takes his hand again in his own warm little grasp and they shake once more.

Half an hour later, the fire is banked for the night, Roach has settled into sleep, and Geralt has a softly snoring musician wrapped around him firmly, legs entangled with his own.

Without a doubt, one of the strangest days of his life, even for a Witcher.

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EDIT: Chapter Two now up!

[berrydoodleoo]

FFXIVWrite 2021: foster

“Well, my dear.” Master Matoya stepped past Y’shtola to look at the new crater in her underground lab. She’d stopped it from filling with water via a handy spell, but repairing the ruined brick and pipes was going to be a more physical sort of challenge. “Regardless of what stories Mr. Kribbet has been telling about my memory, I certainly won’t be forgetting about you anytime soon.” Matoya paused thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any student who was such an unmitigated disaster.”

Green eyes hidden by her sodden white bangs, Y’shtola growled under her breath and stomped a foot indignantly. Her wet shoe made a little squish.

Matoya rounded on her, quick as a snake. “And what was that, Y’shtola?”

Her last student, some twenty-odd years past, would have been scrambling at her tone. Y’shtola simply glared out from under her bangs. “Nothing, Master Matoya.”

“What was that? Hm? Can’t hear you when you mumble.” Matoya poked her with her walking stick.

Y’shtola batted it away indignantly. “I didn’t say anything!”

Technically true. Well, her lab might be ruined, but the girl’s spirit was certainly intact. And she had other labs.

“I think I will put you to studying white magic, for a time,” Matoya finally concluded. “At least you’re less likely to blow the roof off the place that way. When you’re grown and safe in your own lab, you can practice more destructive magics at your leisure.”

She turned, and found the girl gaping at her, eyes gone shiny. “What’s this, then?” Matoya demanded, startled.

“Then…” Y’shtola took a deep breath. “Then I can stay? I can -- I can still be your student?”

Matoya regarded her silently. The girl was barely an adolescent, still young and insecure, lost in her herd (or should that be pack?) of older, talented sisters. Perhaps her insecurity, hidden though it was, wasn’t such a surprise. A bit of careful tutelage might help with that, Matoya mused -- tutelage, yes, nothing else, certainly not parenting. Even if her young, overlooked student could benefit from it.

“Provided you do one thing for me.” Matoya stepped forward smoothly. “You almost drowned here, you know. That whirlpool would have sucked you under and held you till you’d stopped kicking if not for my timely arrival.”

Y’shtola withdrew into herself, but only momentarily: “Just tell me what I need to do! I’ll do it!” She stood tall, only her lashing tail betraying her uncertainty. “Is it the spell? Do I need to master the spell? I almost had it--”

“Quiet,” Matoya interrupted. Y’shtola fell silent. “No, it’s not the spell. It’s not my job to teach you forbidden spells, girl, just to fish you out when you go falling in. And if you’re going to keep learning forbidden spells -- and I can see by the light in your eyes that you are -- you need to learn something much, much more valuable than magic.”

Matoya held out her hand. With the other, held behind her back, she summoned the Crystal Eye and drew upon its bottomless strength. Her extended hand shone briefly with silver light, a small shield spell that was powerful enough to make Y’shtola recoil. When the light faded, the girl looked at her questioningly, and then took her aged hand in her small brown one.

“You are going to learn to hold on,” Matoya informed her grimly. “Not just with your hands, but your whole self. All your magic, and all your soul. Beyond all good sense and reason. If you can hold tightly enough to break my shield, I’ll keep you as my student.”

Of course, it was a trick. No amount of effort a child could bring to bear would shatter a shield from the Crystal Eye. But as the girl gripped Matoya’s hand with both of hers, ears flattening and tail puffing as she summoned all of her physical strength and the impressive might of her magic, Matoya figured the trying would teach her a valuable lesson nonetheless.

(When the shield shattered, it left small scratches on the aether in Matoya’s hand, like little bolts of lightning carved into her bones. A careful spell or two, a little mental effort, and they would probably buff right out.

But she kept them anyway. As a reminder.)

~

Thancred had grown accustomed to rough-and-tumble on the streets of Limsa Lominsa. He’d fought his way to the top of his gang and led an attack on the meanest group of slavers the pirate city had even seen before his sixteenth birthday. He was used to tough going.

This … this was something else.

Louisoix snapped his fingers, and with a musical chime, the winds buffeting Thancred fell away. Thancred himself narrowly avoided landing fast-first in the mud, ending up on one knee instead. Panting, he sank back on his haunches.

“Not bad,” his … friend? Mentor? Teacher? Foster father? said. “You got much closer that time. However, I,” he jingled the bells in his left hand, “appear to be the victor once more.”

Thancred couldn’t help but grin ruefully, staring up at the string of golden bells. “Yes, Master Leveilleur,” he agreed. With a grunt, he pushed himself laboriously to his feet, until he could offer a proper bow to his sparring partner. “Maybe next time.”

The old man’s mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “Hope springeth eternal,” he agreed, sounding rather like Urianger. Both Louisoix and Thancred looked to the edge of the field, where Louisoix’s other student awaited his own duel; even from this distance, Thancred could see him fidgeting nervously.

“Hm, well, what lesson shall I impart today?” Louisoix wondered. Thancred stood at attention, waiting patiently. “I believe you’ve heard them all this point. You certainly don’t need the one about persistence in the face of failure.”

Thancred winced. Louisoix didn’t mean it as a barb, he was certain, but it landed like one nonetheless.

“No, not that one. Nor the one about the tree that bends, or the thrush that survives, or honor like an oasis in the desert.”

Louisoix dipped his chin in a nod. Thancred’s face heated, embarrassed and pleased, and he looked away. Everyone else in Sharlayan might see him a shiftless thief, and those who knew his story saw only an arrogant rogue who’d gotten his gang killed, but Louisoix knew what it had all been for. One day the Upright Thieves would stand tall again.

“No, none of that.” Louisoix pocketed his bells, and came forward to rest his hand on Thancred’s bowed head. “Perhaps I will simply say … never stop. Never hesitate. Never look back.” He thought back to the end of their duel, and imparted a bit of strategic advice: “And always be a moving target.”

~

E-Sumi-Yan lowered the old book as he reached the end of the passage. His students -- orphans and foundlings whom he’d helped raise since they were smaller than him, all of whom (even Nanayepi!) would now stand taller than if they weren’t kneeling respectfully -- waited in silence.

“For a time,” the head of the Conjurer Guild said, “this chapter of I-Ohok-Pota’s tale was censored from common texts, as it was believed to cast the Padjal in a dishonorable light. With it’s unearthing came much questioning of Stillglade Fane and the nature of the Light that powers our White Magic. Quite recently, there were even fears that the white mages could be corrupted and turned to monsters. It was within my lifetime, certainly.” He paused. “Perhaps not so recently, then.”

A gentle murmur of laughter trickled through the crowd. E-Sumi-Yan turned suddenly, picking someone from the crowd. “K'selh? Your thoughts?”

K'selh jumped at being so suddenly addressed. “I-- I--”

E-Sumi-Yan beckoned encouragingly. “Please be honest, K'selh. This is a safe space.”

“I … it’s only, stories like that.” K'selh paused. “They really make me question if I’m cut out to be a conjurer! I could never make a choice like that! I … I don’t mean to seem ungrateful to the Guild or the Elementals….”

E-Sumi-Yan nodded. “I understand. Of course, none of you are beholden to the Guild. We offer you this training to help you find your place in the world, not to trap you within the walls of the Fane, or the Shroud. If the conjurer’s path does not speak to you, it would be unwise to embark upon it.” He paused.

“I cannot lie,” he said, haltingly, his seemingly-boyish voice slower and darker than usual. “Such choices come often to our ilk. But we must remember that our lives are given in service to the Light and the common good. Sometimes we must let one perish in order to save the rest.” His eyes closed, and he looked very much like a child. “We do what we must, because there is no one else to do it for us.”

The pause stretched. Attempting to shake the darkness away, E-Sumi-Yan looked up, and it was by sheer coincidence that his and Talia’s gazes locked.

Talia blinked, startled, but didn’t flinch away. Unlike some of her other instructors, E-Sumi-Yan didn’t try to force her to speak in class -- he had an uncanny knack for only calling upon those who felt a need to speak and simply needed encouragement. He seemed almost as startled as she, his silvery eyes briefly unfocused, lips parting on some unheard word.

And then he blinked and looked away. The moment, like so many others before it, passed without a word.

“The next passage begins when the last left off,” E-Sumi-Yan said. He lifted the book, and continued reading.

~

Minfilia says goodbye to the twins and Y’shtola at Mord Souq, before she, Urianger, Thancred, and the Warriors of Darkness go their own way. Alisaie gives her a would-be casual hug, trying to hide her worry; Alphinaud stops frowning thoughtfully at her long enough to force a timid smile and wish her luck.

Y’shtola stands a bit aside, in a little pocket of shadow, blind eyes peering thoughtfully into the endless light. She beckons Minfilia closer, apart from the others.

“And have you made your choice?” Y’shtola asks, without preamble.

Minfilia glances aside, picking at a seam of her gloves. “I -- I … almost.”

Y’shtola’s eyes narrow, her expression fierce as the wind whips her hair too and fro. Minfilia says nothing more. On one hand, the urge to babble is strong --  to let all the uncertainty and agony come pouring out, to desperately hope that someone, anyone, will talk her out of her fate. On the other hand, she can already feel her chin wobbling, and knows if she says anything more she’ll start to cry.

“I see.” Y’shtola straightens. “Minfilia,” she starts, and then hesitates, brow furrowing. “No, that’s not ... I wish we knew your birth name, but I suppose it’s too late for that. And Minfilia is a good name. One you have certainly been worthy of.” She nods, decisive. “Minfilia.”

Minfilia takes a careful breath, only a little sniffle-y, and comes to attention.

“Whatever choice you make, make it with all your heart. Whatever doubts assail you, hold onto your decision with all your strength. I believe there is no end to the things you can do, if only you persist in the doing them.” Blind eyes bore into hers, seeming to peer into her small, unworthy soul. “Do you understand?”

Minfilia blinks back her tears, and tries for a smile. “Yes, Master Matoya.”

Y’shtola flinches and averts her face, suddenly sorrowful. But there’s no time to apologize; Minfilia’s destiny awaits.

~

“But what about you?” Minfilia cries.

Thancred unhooks his gunblade. “Keep moving,” he orders her. “Keep your eyes on your target, and let nothing stop you. No matter what you hear behind you.” He hesitates, head bowing, and for a moment Minfilia thinks she might see her noble knight weep.

He turns away, voice gone choked. “And don’t look back.”

~

The air is quiet and hushed, where Minfilia -- the real Minfilia, not a pretender like her -- stopped the Flood and saved them all. “Whatever happens,” Minfilia whispers to Tally and Vahn, “you mustn't interfere.”

Vahn is plainly heartbroken, expression ravaged, but he nods. It’s Tally whose brow crumples in fierce anger, who kneels and pulls her into a hug. Hard enough to hurt. Minfilia’s composure, which has carried her through so much, falters and breaks at last. For just a moment, Minfilia hides her face in Tally’s white robes -- soft white, not cold and bright like the Light that surrounds them, comfortable and worn -- and searches for the determination and cunning Y’shtola and Thancred told her she had.

My friends, comes the Oracle’s voice, the Word of the Mother, like music. Minfilia gasps, struck by the familiar melody, and turns to find Minfilia -- the real Minfilia -- descending from the air to alight on the ground. She is barefoot and smiling, and it hurts to look at her, for all that she is less bright than everything else around her. Her terrible, shining eyes linger on Tally and Vahn for a long, long moment, her lips curving in a sad smile.

“I knew I could count on you,” the Oracle says to them. And then, at last, she directs her attention to her heir. She holds out her hands.

And Minfilia -- Minfilia steps forward, timid at first, and then with greater assurance -- she rushes forward to meet her, laughing in her amazement -- they are so similar! as if Minfilia was her mother in truth, and not just in her imaginings -- and for the first time Minfilia thinks she might be able to be brave, to go out into the world and be unafraid. And she knows she has made her choice at last.

[remmushound]

2012/2018 reacting to the differences in their bodies? like tails marking how 2018 are lean builds rather than the average/ muscular builds of 2012? april reacting to the different personalities? reacting to their roles in the family?in case you needed ideas ; love how you right them

This is only part one; Mikey and Raph exams are soon to come! Didn’t want to make it too long and decided to split it. Most of the details included are my own headcanons and ideas, and I was more than happy to indulge in them!! @assanmaharielsreblogs

“Extraordinary...” Donnie had borrowed Donatello’s goggles and was using them to examine his taller counterpart; the lenses extended outward and fed him all sorts of information— Donatello’s species, his mutation— all overwhelming Donnie with the knowledge he craved.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Donatello gave a smug grin. “It gives me enough information to create an analysis almost on the spot— particular weaknesses, known criminal records, blood type— the works. Oh, and it can also detect any mystic metals or energies!”

“Incredible...” Donnie’s eyes flicked between the words that passes a crossed the screen in quick succession. “You’re an Apalone spinifera! One of the largest freshwater turtle species in North America!”

“Ah, yes! But do you know what the name means?” Donatello prompted.

“Oh— well... hm. Let’s see. Apalone comes from the Greek work apalos, meaning soft or tender...”

“Feel.” Donatello held out his arm for examination.

Donnie only stared at it for a few moments before he took the hand in his with a gasp of wonder at the soft, leathery-ness of the skin— almost like a slightly tougher silk. His eyes never left the arm as he continued his talk with a hushed voice.

“Spinifera is of Latin descent... spina refers to a thorn or spine, while ifer means bearing... that means you... you bear a spine... right?”

“Why don’t you check it out?” Donatello turned around.

Donnie’s eyes grew as wide as saucers and, though his hands immediately reached for the armor, he was quick to withdraw them.

“Are you sure?”

“Eh. Why not.” Donatello shrugged. “Just... be careful, alright? I’m really sensitive back there.”

Donnie took a deep breath. When he reached for the armor, his hands were as gentle as he could make them. Slowly undoing the straps in a calculated, repetitive motion. He gripped it firmly as it came loose and placed it on a nearby shelf before turning to see the flat, leathery shell for the first time.

As expected, there was a ridge of spines right down the middle, and the shell itself was littered with old scars and wounds healed years ago.

“Wow...” Donnie didn’t know what else to say as he traced his hand along the skin of the shell, feeling the difference in texture that shifted between regular and scarred tissue. Feeling the surprisingly rough spines under his fingers. “There’s a lot of scarring here...”

“Why do you think I made the armor?” Donatello asked, finally turning around, “I mean— it does look cool, but it’s not just for aesthetic. Why are you staring?”

Donnie broke out of the trance and shook his head. “Sorry! It’s just— you— your—“ he made vague motions to his mouth.

“My teeth?” Donatello asked with narrowed eyes.

“Yes!” Donnie clapped.

Donatello sighed and rolled his eyes, pointing Donnie toward one of the various drawers. “Tongue depressors are in there— knock yourself out.”

Donnie gave a happy squeal and ran to the drawer, sifting through it and pulling out one of the wooden sticks before hurrying back over. Donatello took a seat and crossed his hands over his lap, opening his mouth willingly. Donnie pressed down on the softshells tongue, but after only a few seconds said,

“Have you got any gloves?”

“O’re der.” He pointed, and Donnie followed.

Pulling on the gloves, he returned to his exam and started to prod around Donatello’s mouth, pulling back the lips to get a better look at the fangs within. Powerful, curved teeth with ridges on their backs almost like a sharks.

“Fascinating...” Donnie breathed, feeling the sharpness of the tooth, “Do these affect your diet any?” He withdrew enough to let Donatello respond.

“Yeah uh...” Donatello rubbed his cheek, “I’m technically an omnivore, but I try to avoid raw fruits and vegetables.”

Donnie scrambled for a notebook to start scribbling.

“I can digest them just fine, it’s the chewing that’s the problem; that’s why they created smoothies, it’s so much more simpler! Meat is healthier for me anyway.”

“So— so just like your species in the wild! Your diet is meat!”

“I also have these.” Donatello held out a gloved hand, removing the covering.

Donnie leaned down to get a better look at the hand, giving another squeal of pure delight at its form; webbing connected the fingers, almost making it fin-like in nature. He reached forward to touch it without a second thought, pinching the thin lair of skin to feel the texture.

“Ow!” Donatello pulled away, cradling his hand to his chest. “No touchy! That hurt!”

Donnie gasped. “Sorry! It’s just— I didn’t expect you to actually have webbing! Do your toes have webbing too?”

“Yup.” Donatello confirmed, “they’re a liability when running, but when I get in the water...” he whistled and made a swift motion with his hand.

“Wow! Your mutation is so much cooler than mine! Are the eyebrows part of your mutation too?”

When Donnie tried to reach forward to touch them, Donatello slapped him away. Donnie yelped and pulled his hand back away whimpering like a wounded dog.

“No, they’re drawn on.” Donatello said. “You’ll smudge them.”

“Oh. That makes a lot more sense.”

*****

Leonardo sat confidently in the seat in front of the doppelgänger of his twin; the Donnie already had several exam equipment laid out and ready for use. His curiosity had also seemed to spread to his brothers, who all gathered in the corner waiting expecting for some cool, new discovery about Leonardo.

“I’m gonna take your temperature first.” Donnie stated as he untied Leonardo’s mask and reached for the instrument. He ran it across Leonardo’s forehead and watched the results as it beepers. “Woah... thats low.”

“Well he is a reptile.” Raph pointed out, “isn’t he supposed to be cold?”

“Well— yeah— but a red eared sliders normal body range is about 15 degrees Celsius, his is higher than that; 25 degree. Leo, do you sweat?”

“Yeah.”

“And when you go out in the cold, do you get a puff cloud whenever you breath? Like fog?”

“Duh.” Leonardo huffed.

“Huh.” Donnie backed up for a second, “he’s warm blooded! Just at a much lower temperature than any other warm blood I know of!”

Leonardo laughed and crossed his hands behind his head, leaning back in his seat. “Yay me.”

“Oh— can I?” Donnie reached for Leonardo’s hands.

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.” He held out his hand willingly for Donnie to remove the glove and examine the webbed fingers.

“Not nearly as expansive as Donatello’s, but still incredible. How does it affect your swimming and running?”

“Well I can swim like a torpedo and run like an angry emu; do i get a cookie?”

Donnie blinked. “Eh, no?”

“Dang it!” Leonardo snapped his fingers, and then pointed at Donnie, “lollipop?”

“No...?”

“Ugh!” Leonardo threw his hands in the air dramatically. “What kinda doctor doesn’t have treats for after! And I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you don’t have stickers either?”

Donnie didn’t know how to answer, so he simply said, “can I take a look at your teeth?”

Leonardo opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything Donnie grabbed the stick and shoved it into his mouth, pressing down on the turtles tongue to silence him as the exam started.

“Hmm... your teeth are almost human... but your cuspids are remarkable sharp—again, not as impressive as Donatello’s, but definitely remarkable. And your diet?”

Donnie finally pulled back so Leonardo could speak.

“Yknow, little of this, little of that. Pizza mostly.”

“That’s a given.” Raph commented with a wave of his hand.

“Fruits? Vegetables? Meats?” Donnie went on.

“Uh... yeah? Aren’t all of those on pizza?”

“Well—yeah— but I meant which one are you most comfortable with?”

“Erm. All of them, I guess?”

“So you’re truly omnivorous, then; your teeth kinda gave that away, but it can never hurt to be sure.” Donnie removed his gloves and wandered over to the sink to wash his hands.

“Hey! Uh. Other Donnie?”

“Yeah?” Donnie called back.

“If you’re gonna do all this stuff with Miguel, you’re gonna need some rewards—otherwise he won’t sit still.”

“I’m sure I can manage it.”

“No— you can’t. Trust me— Mikey hates exams.”

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR CHAPTER 44                                            

Disclaimer We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.”

The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC

We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us.

                                                          A/N: AND. WE’RE. BACK! We appreciate your patience, heading into the show require a wee bit more work on our end as well as dealing with some hard hits from the real world. All that being said, we’re hoping to be able to stick to our weekly postings. So HERE WE GO!                                                  MO CHAPTER 44

Jax

“Girls are still at yer old house,” Chibs explains, blowing smoke out from his cigarette.

“I’ll relieve the prospect after I stop by the hospital.”

“Going to see the lad?”

I wince under his censure. Chibs doesn’t have to say a word to get his point across.

Everything that needs to be said is visible in his eyes.

“Naw. Gonna set his mother straight.”

Chibs grunts.

“What?” I snap.

“I didnae say a word.” He shakes his head, takin a deep inhale.

“Yeah, ya don’t have to,” I mutter, spinning on my heels and taking off.

Clay’s just got finished giving me shit about Mom telling him I hadn’t seen Abel.

No one stops to consider it might be too much for me.

I’ve gotten so used to people leaving, I keep them at a distance.

I also have a lot of shit on my plate, and I can’t afford to drop the ball.

They want me to put the club first but don’t stop to look at what the cost might look like. I’d rather be dealing with the fucking Mayans than this family guilt trip shit.

Clay attempting to keep me in line by holding Abel’s hospital bills in my face was a low blow. But I’ve come to expect that shit from him.

There’s not enough time in the world to stop me from being furious with Wendy when I reach St. Thomas.

I’m glad Tara is nowhere to be seen.

I got my hands full with one crazy ex.

Wendy looks like death warmed over.

Ratty bleached out blonde hair, sallow skin, and dark circles that lend to her skeleton impression. What the fuck did I ever see in her?

Another lost soul who needed an anchor, so she didn’t drift off the deep end.

It worked for a time.

I should’ve ended it when it stopped, and she relapsed the second time, instead of ignoring her like she’d go away on her own.

She looks up and starts to cry when she sees me.

Stepping in, I ignore her hysterics.

I’ve grown immune to them.

“You need to get help, Wendy,” I say, trying to soften the irritation in my tone.

“I know, I know— But it’s not what you think. I was doing so good, Jax. I love my baby. Even with us being fucked up.” She shakes her head, wiping at imaginary tears.

“So the meth fairy shot you up?”

She looks down at the bed, and I tense.

Her lack of eye contact’s always been a tell-tail sign she’s hiding shit from me.

“Start talking now, Wendy.” I growl.

“I thought he loved me. That he didn’t care I was having your baby. I was wrong. All he wanted to talk about was you and the club. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t.” She shakes her head, speaking as if she’d forgotten I was even there.

Walking over, I grip her bedrail to keep from gripping her arms and shaking the answers out of her.

“And.” I ground out.  

“He forced me to shoot up Jax! H-He Said I was going to tell one way or the other!”

Well for Fuck’s sake!  

“Son of a bitch. What did you say to him, Wendy?”

She shakes her head.

“I- I don’t know. The doctor said Abel’s getting stronger. He said maybe they would fix his belly. Maybe tomorrow morning.” I shake my head at her attempt to change the topic.

Now I have to worry about what the Nords know on top of everything else.

“They’ll do everything they can.”

I won’t hope. That’s a dangerous thing I can’t afford to do right now.

“My lawyer said they might file criminal charges. Fetal abuse. I got stuff back at the house in the stash drawer.”

“Jesus Christ.” I scoff, shaking my head.

It never ends with this bitch.

“You expect me to bring it to you so you can get high too?” I growl.

“No, I told you…” She whines.

“I didn’t even want to do it, Jax. You have to believe me. Just if they find that shit, they’re gonna put me away.”

“Might be the only way you’ll get clean,” I state honestly.

Plus, her outta the picture might make all the women in my life a lot happier.

“You own the house, Jax. I’d hate to see this blowback on you.”

The truth of her statement dumps over me like a bucket of cold water.

“Yeah, of course.” I chuckle dryly.

Now there’s another fucking mess I gotta fucking clean up.

It never ends.

Fuck, I need to find the shit before the girls do. I don’t want them anywhere near that shit, let alone touching it.

“Jax, wait. Please, please, Jax!” Her whining falls on deaf ears as I leave the hospital behind and hit the road.

Pulling up into the driveway, I gesture for the grunt to leave as I enter the house that never felt like a home.

I watch briefly as the girls pitch things into garbage bags, spraying and scrubbing down furniture.

It hits me in the heart and the gut.

The three women I love most are here together, doing what they can to make this shit show more tolerable.

I clear my throat. “It’s almost midnight.”

They all stop, startled by my appearance before glancing up at me with tired expressions.

“The place is a goddamn pigsty.” Ma huffs, picking up all the clothes laying around.

“Cleaning was never her strong suit. But it didn’t look like this last time we were here.”

Mom glances over at me.

Sitting on the desk next to the half wall that separates the living room from the wall, I look over at the girls working in the kitchen and dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Mom asks, continuing her almost frantic cleaning.

“It’s my house,” I offer, pulling my riding gloves off.

“No, it’s your property. There’s a big difference,” J corrects walking into the living room with another trash bag.

Lee meets my gaze, studying me with those blue lasers that always see everything I want to hide.

I look away, unable to keep my secret in the face of her worry-filled expression.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to see it this way,” Ma says as she continues to straighten and organize.

It’s her way, always in action to run from her emotions.

“You guys don’t have to do this.” Guilt hits me.

They’re over here cleaning up the mess I made.

My stomach clenches.

“Look, we just want it livable,” Lee says walking into the living room with an empty hamper for the clothes.

Her words should be soothing, but that’s the last thing I want right now.

“I’ll buy some decent carpet. Cigarette burns are everywhere.” Mom mutters, continuing to pick up Wendy’s mess. “Mom.” I try to grab her attention, but she continues to mumble and clean.

“Make this shit-hole a home for your son.”

Something in me snaps at the mention of Abel.

“Mom, For chrissakes, stop cleaning!” I bark.

J steps in front of her.

“Oh hell no. You don’t get to talk to her like that! Not when we’re here helping your ass out. Trying to clean up the fucking trail of mess you left behind. Like always!”

I flinch.

“Jax.” Lee shakes her head.

The disapproval is visible in her blue sapphires.

“He’s not gonna make it.” I let my worries fly out of my mouth.

The girls gasp, circling around me.

Lee grabs my hand, squeezing tight.

“W-What are you talking about?” Mom asks.

“What happened?” Lee and Journee ask in that twin sync way they have.

I exhale and shake my head.

“He was born with half a stomach and a hole in his heart. He’s gonna die—.”

My head is rocked to the left, and my side is on fire from mom’s slap and baby sister’s wicked pinch.

I think the little bitch drew blood and broke the skin.

But it’s Lee letting go of my hand that hurts the most.

“Don’t you say that! You’re the only one this boy’s got! You don’t believe he’s gonna live, you might as well go and kill him yourself.” Mom snaps, glaring at me as she speaks her truth.

Turning from me, she walks over to the table and grabs the joint and lighter sitting in a bowl.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles half-heartedly, lighting up the joint as I make my way towards her, cautiously.

My eyes catch Lee’s disappointed blues.

“You gotta go see him, Jax,” She says gently, stepping towards me.

Even through my pain, I hear Lee’s voice, but I can’t gather the guts yet to do what she’s asking me.

“I can’t.” I admit honestly.

“Why? Because he’ll break your heart? It’s called being a father,” Mom says, after blowing out her deep inhale.

I place my hand up on the half-wall, resting heavily against it.

“For how long? A day? A week?” I spit the words circling around my head out like poison.

Mom sighs, and nods to me to come take a seat with her.

I release my own sigh, and glance back to see the girls going back to cleaning but staying nearby.

Wiping at some crumbs on the table, I sink into the chair, exhausted.

Mom takes another hit from the joint before offering it to me.

I look up at her gratefully, taking a deep inhale as she takes a seat across from me.

“You know, you were born with that same heart defect as your little brother.”

She reaches across the table and gently knocks at my chest.

“You seem pretty sturdy to me.”

Her tone has changed to something a little softer and I can’t help but give her a small smile.

“I came through hell. Landed on my feet…your father was hit by a goddamn semi, dragged 178 yards...and that bastard lived for two more days. Tellers do not die easy.” She says with a proud smirk.

I snort.

“No, we just die bloody.” I say honestly.

I’m not sure that’s better.

“That’s the Irish in us,” Ma says without missing a beat.

The storm ends, and I turn to glance up at the girls.

“I’m sorry.” I mouth the words.

Journee scowls, and Lee shoots me a sad look that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

I need to get out of this moment.

“When you and dad hooked up, he ever talk to you about his vision? About what he wanted from the club?”

The girls look at me, and I nod.

Mom fidgets with the joint in her fingers before shrugging.

“His vision was— you know, what it is. A brotherhood. Family.” She offers me the joint.

“And running guns? He want that?” I keep on her, needing to get to the bottom of how we came to this position.

“He never talked about that. Why?” She eyes me for a moment, before standing from the table.

“I found a box of his old shit in the storage unit. There’s, like, pictures and journals and... Things I never knew about him.” I shrug.

“What kind of things?” Journee asks, pausing her cleaning.

“It seemed like his original idea for the MC was something simpler. You know, social rebellion. He called it a Harley commune. It wasn’t outlaw. It was real hippie shit.” I say with a slight smile.

It’s not hard to imagine my laidback father wanting that.

I take another hit of the joint, watching as Mom sighs and tosses her head slightly.

I can see her brimming with nervous energy.

I know she doesn’t like to talk about dad.

“We had a lot of bright ideas back then. We were kids. Your father became a man. Men take care of business.” She says, but she isn’t looking at me when she speaks.

“Yeah, we do.” I answer, blowing the smoke out of my nose.

“You should get home, Mom. Finish cleaning tomorrow. Lee and I will lock up.” I say as mom turns to look at me while Journee looks from me to Lee.

“You good?” She hugs Lee, who whispers something in her ear.

Mom walks over and frames my face for a moment.

“Night mom.” I say as she bends to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Night baby.” She whispers squeezing my hand before walking past me.

“Hey,” I nod at Mom. “Have her stop by the club. Your old man misses you.” I say, standing from the table.

Baby J steps closer and tugs me down to her.

“Do not fuck this up, Jaxass. Remember everything you have to lose.”

I nod my head.

“I hear you.”

She pats my cheek.

“Good.”

“Ok, darling.” Mom sounds exhausted.

It’s easy to forget sometimes she’s still only human.

“Good night, mom. Night Baby J.”

“Good night, baby.” Ma blows a kiss before grabbing her stuff.

“See you tomorrow, bro. Remember what I said.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Lee. I’m always a call away,” Baby J says, ignoring me as she walks up and kisses her.

I glance over to see Mom’s already out the door.

That’s new.

I guess they’re done giving a shit.

“I love you too, Nee.” Lee calls out.

They walk out, and I go to the drawer Wendy mentioned.

“What are you doing?” Lee asks, following me over to the stash drawer.

“Saving us a whole lot more trouble.” I remove the gun, syringes, and bags of smack.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lee screeches angrily.

“Obviously not mine.” I mumble, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans as I walk over to the bathroom.

“Why are you covering for her? It’s like enabling.” She says as I flush the baggies away.

“Cause it’s my damn house, Harley. Imagine how much the law would love to find that shit and charge me.”

She crosses her arms and nods.

“So, you sweep in and rescue her. She has no consequences?” She follows me back to the living room.

“She’s lying in the hospital half dead right. I’m pretty sure she’s paying.” I snap, turning to look at her.

“So you could go see the Junkie bitch, but not your son?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Explain it to me, then. Cause what I see is the one solid parent Abel has turning their back.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it. That kid is going to have more love than most kids get in a lifetime.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make up for an absent father.” She pokes her finger at my chest.

I roll my eyes, fighting back the urge to growl.

“You already labeling me now? Don’t let your past mingle with my future. I’m ain’t like Wally, and you know it.” I swipe her hand away, shaking my head.

“No. But I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a junkie mother and a father who couldn’t’ be bothered,’ She whispers.

Her past pain bleeds into her blues, tugging at my heart strings.

Fuck.

I turn back to face her, bending slightly to catch her eyes.

“I get that, but it’s not the same, Lee. I just—my head is spinning, and I need to be grounded before facing him lying there like that, okay? It ain’t about a lack of love.” I run a hand through my hair, blowing out a deep breathe.

“You’re a Father now, Jax. You can’t keep things on the backburner anymore.” She steps forward, and I open my arms.

“I don’t want to fight, babe.” I say sincerely.

“So, let’s not fight.” Her tone doesn’t match her sentence.

I know she wants to keep talking about this and shit it’d be easier if she knew what went down with Wendy, but I’m ain’t about to add gasoline to that fire.

So I’ll keep this close to my chest for now.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, just needing us to be okay.

“Anything, other than ignore him Jackson.” She throws her hands up in the air.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go see Abel tomorrow.” I say, knowing it’ll make her happy.

“Yeah?” She whispers.

Her eyes light up, and I nod.

Fuck she’s got me wrapped around her finger don’t she?

“Yeah.” I swallow my pride and my fear.

I can’t control if I lose my son, but I can keep Lee.

“You’re right. I’ve been putting things on the back burner I should be handling. I want to be the kind of man my father was.” My throat clogs.

“This ain’t it.”

She steps into my arms and I hold her tight.

“I see him in you all the time Jackson. You just need to learn how to channel him and block out all the other bullshit thrown at you.” Wrapping her armss around my waist, she rests her head on my chest.

Inhaling the citrus scent of her hair, I let her ground me.

We’re in a fucking hurricane right now.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep our heads above water.

Tara, Wendy, Abel, Mayans, Nords, it’s all coming at us at once.

I can’t even catch my damn breath.

“Talk to me.” Lee tilts her head up, propping her chin on my chest as she turns those cerulean lasers up to lock onto mine.

Her anger’s faded, but I can see the steely determination in the depths of her electric blue eyes. She expects me to keep my word.

“That’s why I’m here.” She pushes gently.

I don’t even know where to start.

We’re in the middle of a powder keg, ready to explode.

The less she knows, the better.

Once you add her own issues with abandonment into the situation, I know rational thinking goes straight the fuck out the window.

“I don’t want to talk babe. I want to feel something other than worry and stress. I need you, Lee.” I whisper, pressing our lips together.

“Then have me, Jackson.” Her tone is husky but demanding.

She fists my hair and crashes our kiss together again.

I grip her face in my hands and dominate the kiss.

Tilting my head slightly I deepen our kiss and slip my tongue into her mouth, exploring the playground I already have memorized.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I crush her frame against my chest.

The mint of the gum she’s been chewing makes my tongue tingle as the addicting scent of spicy citrus fills my nostrils. Blood rushes to my cock, slowly hardening against her. She pulls back to suck in air, and I move my hands down to her hips. I don’t want her to be even an inch from me right now.

I press forward, moving her back towards the half-wall and the desk.

Lips lock and teeth gnash as our hands work in tandem, stripping each other of our bottoms.

Unbelted and unbuttoned, my jeans drop down my hips, weighted heavily by the items always attached.

I shove down the leggings she’s wearing and lift her up from the ground.

She wraps her knees around my waist as I hold her weight with one arm, clearing the small desk and positioning her against the half-wall.

Her fingers tug at my hair, turning my head to keep our lips connected.

I growl as my hardened cock strains against the confines of my boxers.

Her wet heat sears me through the thin cotton, painting my boxers in her fragrant juices.

“Fuck. you’re so wet, baby.” I groan, grinding against her slick folds.

“Always for you.” She whimpers, reaching into my boxers to pull my cock out.

“Shit.” I hiss as her warm fist wraps around me.

Precum leaks from my tip, and she uses her thumb to smear the sticky liquid down my cock.

“Fuck I love you.” I groan as she pumps me before lining me up with her hot entrance.

“Fuck me, Jackson. Claim me as yours.” The neediness in her tone causes the beast inside me to roar to life.

“Mine,” I growl, thrusting into her without warning.

She gasps, arching her back.

I bend down, sucking the skin of her neck into my mouth.

She whimpers, turning her head to the side to allow me more access.

I stay still, basking in being completely surrounded by her and losing myself in the taste of her skin.

I suck harder, wanting to leave my mark and let everyone know she’s claimed.

“Jackson.” She gasps, clenching her muscles around my cock.

I groan at how fucking tight she feels.

Biting her neck, she whines and rolls her hips towards me.

I slide back just slightly, desperate to remain inside her for as long as possible.

I roll my hips instead of sliding out.

“O-oh.” She moans, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging me closer to her.

The wood creaks with the movement, and my hands move to her thighs to support her weight.

“You feel so fucking, good baby.” Lee moans as I continue to rotate my hips inside her.

I mix it up with a rhythmic back and forth but never out of her.

This is my pussy, and the only people allowed to play in here are J. Tellers.

The quick flash image of my baby sister making my girl come has me groaning loudly and thrusting deeper.

“Fuck baby, just like that!” She cries out, clenching around me.

Her back arches, and her body trembles.

“Shit, Jackson, I’m close—so fucking close.” She gasps, rocking her hips towards me erratically.

My cock grows impossibly hard as I near mine.

I bite at her collarbone, leaving my marks all over her neck.

No one will ever doubt this woman is claimed and claimed fucking well.

“I’m yours, baby,” I whisper against her lips, letting her know this claiming goes both ways.

“And you’re fucking mine.” I hiss, rotating my hips so my cock can hit that spot inside her that makes her shatter.

“YES!” She cries out, fingernails digging into the back of my neck as her pussy locks down on me like a fucking vice.

“Fuck.” I groan, falling headfirst into my own release and shooting my hot load deep inside her.

She hugs me close as I rest my weight on my forearms against the wall, trapping her between them and struggling to catch my breath.

Lifting my head, our eyes lock, and I’m lost in the soft glow of her electric blues.

“I love you so much, Harley,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips before I slowly ease out of her.

“Mmm, love you too.” She mumbles against my lips.

“I’ll love you even more if you get me a towel.” She blinks up at me with hazy eyes and a satisfied smile.

I bend down to pull my boxers and jeans back up.

Shit, the thought of my cum swimming around inside her could make me hard again.

I know she’s got that thing in her arm, but damn if I don’t love knowing she’s marked by me, inside out.

“Leave it,” I whisper, smirking as I help her stand.

Her eyes widen, shocked by my request.

“Really?” She asks as I drop to my knees to pull her leggings back up her legs for her.

I nod, standing back to my feet and pulling her close.

“You told me to claim you. Nothing says claimed like my seed swimming around inside you.” I slip my hand down the front of her leggings and cup her pussy.

The heat radiating through the thin, wet material has me biting my lip.

She whimpers.

“And what about you, Jackson?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Are you claimed?” She asks, confusing me with her line of questioning.

“You tell me?” I ask, tucking some loose strands from her messy bun back behind her ear.

“I thought so…” She runs her knuckles down my cheek gently.

Suddenly she’s pinching my chin tightly, tilting my head down to meet her gaze.

“But then I see, Tara Fucking Knowles is in town, and you don’t look all that shocked to see her.” The fury flames in her eyes once more.

Fuck. Shoulda known the calm would only last a few minutes.

I sigh, shaking my head.

“Shit. We really talking ‘bout this now?” I ask, stepping back.

“Fuck yes we’re talking about this! Why didn’t you fucking tell me, Jackson! I do not like being blindsided!” She pushes at my chest and steps away from me.

“How long have you fucking known? How long did you plan on keeping it from me? And why, why the hell didn’t you fucking tell me!” She pushes at my chest again.

“Lee, I’m sorry, aight? I was gonna tell you the other night when we went out for our ride, but then the Mayans blew up the warehouse, and Wendy ODing threw us right into the middle of it before I had a chance.”

I step towards her cautiously, slowly moving to grab her hands.

“I only found out that morning. I just wanted to get some us time in before I told you-“ I begin.

“Why?” She asks in a defensive tone, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Cause I know how you feel ‘bout Tara, and I just wanted us to be solid-“

She slides her hands out from mine and steps back.

Something deep inside growls at the thought of her stepping away from me.

“Why wouldn’t we be solid, Jackson? Should I be worried we’re not solid now that SHE’s back?” I can hear the accusations in her tone, and I don’t like it one damn bit.

“Nah Fuck that, Harley. Her being back don’t change shit ‘bout us.” I step to her, gripping her hips in my hands tightly.

“I think I just fucking proved that,” I growl, nodding towards the clatter of shit on the floor from our early escapade.

“You think I’m going to accept the scraps you used to give other women? Takes more than a quick fuck against a wall to make me feel secure.”

“Don’t say shit like that when you know it ain’t fucking true!” I yell before I can catch myself.

Her eyes widen, but I don’t see an ounce of fear in them.

“I fucking love you, Harley Grazer! Tara ain’t nothing to me but an old ghost, you fucking hear me!” My fingers grip her hips so she can’t step back from me again.

“That bitch is the past. You and I are headed towards a future. I ain’t gonna let that gash get in the way of that by gettin into your head.”

This is my fault.

I let her pull me from my girls and my family once before.

But I’m gonna make it damn clear it ain’t happening again.

I struggle to calm myself.

I can’t blame her for being cautious.

I release a shaky breath, trying to force some sanity back into my brain before I start to demolish the whole fucking house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My plan was to tell you after our ride before everything went to shit. I only found out that morning.” I loosen my grip on her hips but still hold her to me.

She’s holding tense but not trying to stepping back.

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face when she continues to glare at me.

“I mean it, Harley. I’m sorry I let that shit get away from me, but I need you to trust me when I say I got no love left for her. S’far as I’m concerned, she’s my son’s doctor, that’s it.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me.

My heart clinches when she remains stiff and doesn’t melt against me the way she usually does. “Can we be okay now?” I ask, desperate for things to be right between us.

I can’t fucking handle one more damn thing right now.

Her fingers fist my hair as she tugs my hair back slightly to grab my attention.

“Don’t keep shit like that from me anymore, and we’ll always be okay, Jackson.”

My stomach knots as I think about the bombshell Wendy dropped on me in the hospital.

I should tell Lee, but I don’t know if I have the fucking energy to go through another argument right now.

I wrap my arms tighter around her waist, squeezing her to me as I collapse against her for a moment.

One thing at a time.

[cheri-translates]

[Fan-created Texts] Day 57 - Day 79

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for e-mails which have not been released in English servers! 🍒

These are fan-created texts by 夏月_mleila on Weibo, based on Gavin’s 100 Day Event e-mails, and she has given me permission to translate them!

She started from Day 57, and skipped certain days!

[ DAY 57 ]

Eli said that the picture I’m using as my phone wallpaper would have looked even better if the angle was tilted slightly. What does he know? You look pretty no matter what.

-

Gavin: Eli said that the picture I’m using as my phone wallpaper would have looked even better if the angle was tilted slightly. 

Gavin: What does he know? You look pretty no matter what.

MC: Haha, is that how you responded to him?

Gavin: No, I couldn’t be bothered to waste my breath on him. I just added his name to the 50km field training.

MC: ...isn’t that a little too harsh?

Gavin: He won’t learn if I’m not harsh. It’s not his place to comment on you.

MC: Maybe he was just giving suggestions out of kindness?

MC: This way, he might never dare to talk to you again

Gavin: Actually, he was already supposed to go for the field training. I just used this opportunity to discipline him.

Gavin: It’s even better if I don’t mention it. It’d save him from speaking nonsense the entire day.

MC: Poor Eli!

MC: I’m secretly celebrating that you aren’t my leader.

Gavin: ...I definitely wouldn’t do that to you.

MC: I know, I was just kidding

MC: Thank you for saying that I’m pretty, and that I look pretty no matter what (*/ω \*)

Gavin: What’s that bunch of characters at the end?

MC: It’s a shy expression

Gavin: There’s no need to be shy, you’ve always looked pretty

MC: ( *^ 3 ^) / ~☆

Gavin: What does that mean?

MC: It’s a kiss!

Gavin: Cough...

Gavin:  ( *^ 3 ^) / ~☆

Gavin: I just remembered that I have to settle some matters. See you after work.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Eli’s Post: I was already very careful with my words and actions, but I didn’t expect to tip the boat over anyway... I really meant it out of goodwill

MC: I don’t know how to comfort you, so here’s an “All the Best”!

Gavin: Do you have any objections?

Eli @ Gavin: Nope, I’ll comply with my superior’s arrangements.

Minor: I suddenly feel incomparably at peace. Did something happen?

-

[ DAY 58 ]

It does feel different eating ice-cream when the weather is cold. But it isn’t good for your stomach, so I’m confiscating half.

-

Gavin: You bought ice-cream again?

MC: Yup. Kiki recommended it this time - she says this brand’s matcha flavour is incredibly delicious!

MC: I’ve had a few bites. The feeling of eating ice-cream in autumn and summer are completely different. 

MC: It doesn’t melt as quickly, and it’s even more cooling and icy in the mouth.

Gavin: It does feel different eating ice-cream when the weather is cold. But it isn’t good for your stomach, so I’m confiscating half.

MC: (｡•́︿•̀｡)

MC: I knew you’d say that, so I only bought one stick per flavour!

MC: Officer Gavin, please show mercy...

Gavin: In that case, you can eat half of it. I’ll eat the remaining half.

MC: Tch. Is this just an excuse so you can eat it?

Gavin: What do you think?

MC: Fine...

Gavin: Wait till the weekend when I’m with you before eating it.

MC: You don’t trust me!

Gavin: It’s not that I don’t trust you. Did you forget how your stomach hurt so much last month that you couldn’t even stand?

Gavin: If you don’t listen to me again, I’ll get angry, and will no longer be your human heater.

MC: Even though that’s what you say, I know you wouldn’t do that!

MC: How could you bear to see your girlfriend feeling awful yet brush her aside!

Gavin: I care about you, but won’t indulge you. Will you listen to me obediently?

MC: Yes! I’ll solemnly carry out Officer Gavin’s instructions, and will firmly resist the temptation of ice-cream.

Gavin: Good. If you manage to perform well, the reward will be a sumptuous meal over the weekend. What do you want to eat?

MC: Really? I want to have hotpot!

Gavin: Okay. When the time comes, I’ll make a reservation in advance.

MC: Gavin is truly good, Gavin is the best, Gavin is the best boyfriend in the world!

Gavin: Cough...

Gavin: Remember not to eat ice-cream on the sly.

MC: As you command! Hotpot, here I come!

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC’s Post: To deal with indecisiveness, the best solution is to get one of every flavour!

Kiki: Matcha flavour! I strongly recommend the matcha flavour!

Minor: Boss, are you buying ice-cream on the sly again? Be careful of Bro Gavin’s criticisms.

MC @ Minor: He wouldn’t criticise me. He only criticises you.

-

[ DAY 59 ]

If you feel cold, you can put your hands into my pocket anytime.

-

MC: Why is it so cold this autumn! I’m prepared to snatch up a pair gloves on 11/11!

Gavin: So why were you more willing to ball your hands into little fists than to place them into my pocket?

MC: Anna and the others were around, so it'd have been so embarrassing...

Gavin: There’s no need to feel embarrassed. 

Gavin: If you feel cold, you can put your hands into my pocket anytime.

MC: My ice-cold hands are all ready. Where’s the pocket?

Gavin: I’m going for a mission soon, and I can’t leave.

MC: So it isn’t “anytime”, you big liar!

Gavin: Don’t be anxious, let me think.

Gavin: I could order you a cup of hot milk tea first. After the mission is over, I’ll look for you immediately, okay?

MC: I was just teasing you! I have a hot glass of water accompanying me right now.

MC: I know that if I don’t take good care of myself, a certain person’s heart will ache, right?

Gavin: Right.

MC: And when a certain person’s heart aches, I’ll be very upset too. So I'll definitely take care of myself!

MC: I won’t disturb you. Go do your thing, and be safe on your mission.

Gavin: Mm. After work, my pocket and I will pick you up.

MC: Okay! My hands and I will be waiting for the two of you.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC: With you, every day is warm.

Minor: Summer must be pretty hot then?

MC @ Minor: @Gavin, I’m leaving him to you.

Minor: Boss, don’t do that, I was just kidding!

-

[ DAY 60 ]

This morning, I realised that the tallest tree in the city had white leaves. When I leaned over to take a look, I saw that they were white frost.

-

MC: Giving you a hug

Gavin: What happened?

MC: The weather is so cold, so it must be even colder in the sky, right?

MC: Could you promise me one thing?

Gavin: What is it?

MC: Before the weather turns warm, aside from work purposes, could you not use your Evol if you don’t have to?

MC: Even though I know that you’ll definitely take good care of yourself, there are certain times when you really neglect your health for work.

MC: I’m proud of how much you’ve achieved, but I’m even more worried about your body! Do you understand what I’m saying?

MC: I accidentally said too much. I’m such a nag, haha.

Gavin: No, I don’t find you to be a nag at all. Actually, I’m really happy.

Gavin: Thank you. Thank you for being understanding and caring for me. 

Gavin: Before, I always felt like being on my own was all right, and that I could be freer alone.

Gavin: But ever since being with you, I experienced the warmth and strength of love.

Gavin: ...this time, it’s my turn to say too much.

MC: Shouldn’t family members care for each other? I care for you because you care for me too.

Gavin: You view me as a family member?

MC: ? Weren’t we family members since a long time ago?

Gavin: Yes, I’m someone who has a family now.

MC: Gavin...

Gavin: There’s no need to worry. I'll take proper care of myself so my girl wouldn’t be distressed.

Gavin: It’s late. Rest soon, goodnight.

MC: Mm, goodnight.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: This morning, I realised that the tallest tree in the city had white leaves. When I leaned over to take a look, I saw that they were white frost.

Minor: It’s Frost’s Descent - Gavin, remember to keep warm.

MC @ Minor: You know what Frost’s Descent is?

MC: Next time, ride Sparky back from work. If it gets colder, we can take the train together.

-

[ DAY 61 ]

The picture you sent me yesterday wasn’t a wolf. It’s a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog - a breed of dog which is very loyal and tame.

-

[ Yesterday, 11.12pm ]

MC: 

MC: I swear that I'm not sleeping late. It’s just that my phone recommended this sticker to me, and I find it really cool.

MC: After looking at this wolf, I thought about you, so I sent it to you.

MC: There’s no need to reply, I’ve already gone to sleep!

[ Today, 12:17pm ]

Gavin: Sorry, I just saw your messages.

Gavin: The picture you sent me yesterday wasn’t a wolf. It’s a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog - a breed of dog which is very loyal and tame.

MC: Really? It looks so much like a wolf!

Gavin: That’s because it’s a hybrid between a wolf and a dog. But there are still differences.

MC: Could you tell me more?

Gavin: The main differences between the two would be their ears and tails.

Gavin: The Czechoslovakian Wolfdog’s ears are much larger than a wolf’s ears. Their tails have a curl, while wolves don’t.

MC: Which means without a reference picture, it’d be difficult to differentiate them.

Gavin: That’s right. The lines are very blurry. If there’s a reference picture, it’d be much clearer.

Gavin: But they are violent dogs, so many cities in the country prohibit rearing them. And they belong to a rare breed, so the chances of seeing them are quite low.

MC: I've got it, thank you for the lesson, Teacher Gavin.

Gavin: I sense that you’re more interested in wolves than before?

MC: That’s right, because it’s your guardian animal!

MC: As long as anything is related to you, I’m interested in it.

Gavin: Same for me.

MC: I welcome Teacher Gavin to share more of such interesting tidbits of knowledge with me.

Gavin: Mm, if it’s something I know, I’ll tell you.

MC: Okay, I’ll be an obedient and good student.

-

[ DAY 63 ]

When I was tidying the room, I found the champion prize from last year’s STF long-distance race in autumn. It’s a keychain of a running military dog.

-

MC: Are you home?

[ Today, 10:02 ]

MC: ? You aren’t back yet?

[ Today, 10:13 ]

MC: Is your phone turned off?

MC: Remember to reply when you see this - I’m waiting for you!

[ Today, 10:18 ]

Gavin: Sorry for making you worry. My phone ran out of battery. I just found the wire to charge it.

MC: It’s okay as long as you’re fine, and safe at home.

Gavin: Mm, I'm fine. Tiny Blackie dragged it underneath the sofa, so I spent a long time searching for it...

MC: Haha, was it throwing a fuss since you were only looking at your phone?

Gavin: Maybe. When I was looking for it, I made a mess out of the house. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to contact me...

MC: It’s all right. Aren't I contacting you right now?

Gavin: Next time, this wouldn’t happen again. I promise.

MC: Mm, I also promise that you’ll be able to contact me anytime.

Gavin: Oh yes. When I was tidying the room, I found the champion prize from last year’s STF long-distance race in autumn. It’s a keychain of a running military dog.

MC: You’re so amazing! You always emerge the champion in every competition. Unlike me, who can’t even run 800-metres.

Gavin: You’ve already made a large improvement. Long-distance running requires endurance, and that requires time to gradually build up.

MC: Mm. That keychain must be really cool, right?

Gavin: If you like it, I can give it to you.

MC: No need, That’s a badge of honour belonging to you.

Gavin: Silly. Whatever is mine is yours. Even I belong to you.

MC: Cough...

MC: Rest early, I’m shy (I’m not!)

Gavin: Mm, goodnight, my cute girl.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC’s Post: Ah... wjzbytkx, awslzsl..., He called me..., I’m so happy!!!

Minor: Boss, has a virus entered your input system?

Gavin: That’s only if I’m considered a virus.

MC @ Gavin: Please don’t speak anymore, and let me calm down!

-

[ DAY 65 ]

I changed a new driving playlist recently. Those songs you recommended - I like them very much.

-

MC: Knock knock knock, is Student Gavin there?

Gavin: Here.

MC: Could I ask Student Gavin if he wishes to eat little cakes made by me?

Gavin: Yes.

MC: What? I can’t sense Student Gavin’s enthusiasm! (please type a few more words!)

Gavin: Mm, I really want to eat the little cakes you make.

Gavin: What made you think of making them?

MC: Today, Anna brought little lemon cakes she made, and I thought they were really delicious.

MC: So I asked her how to make them, and am planning to make them for you over the weekend.

Gavin: Sure. In that case, we’ll buy the ingredients together during the weekend.

MC: I’ll warn you in advance - don’t harbour high expectations, because Anna mentioned that there’s some difficulty involved, and you know that I...

Gavin: It’s okay, we’ll make them together.

MC: Is there a difference if the two of us do it together?

Gavin: Mm... doesn’t seem so.

MC: Haha, so what if our cooking skills are poor? We have self-awareness!

Gavin: Oh yes, I changed a new driving playlist recently. Those songs you recommended - I like them very much.

MC: Do you have the song “Running with the Wind”?

Gavin: Mm, yes.

MC: Haha, I can kind of picture it.

MC: I heard a new song yesterday. When I heard it, I thought of you, so I’ll send you a link.

MC: -sends link to a song called “Chasing the Wind”-

Gavin: Okay, I’ve received it.

MC: Remember not to turn the volume up too loudly while driving.

Gavin: All right, I'll take note.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: I think of you when I hear the songs you recommended.

MC: Be safe! (incredibly loudly)

Gavin @ MC: Got it. (incredibly loudly)

-

[ DAY 66 ]

In the movie we watched yesterday, I keep thinking that werewolves are even more dashing and decisive than vampires.

-

MC: How was it? Did you manage to coax the kid into being happy?

Gavin: Don’t bring it up - it was even more tiring than being out on a mission.

MC: Haha, the stories didn’t work? I really loved listening to them when I was young.

MC: Also, with such a dashing Big Brother telling her stories, why wasn't she happy?

MC: If I were here, I’d definitely be overjoyed.

Gavin: Maybe I didn't put in enough emotions when telling the story. In the end, a colleague brought candy over to coax her.

MC: As expected, no matter how old a person is, they are defenceless against delicacies.

Gavin: Do you want to hear it? If you do, I could tell it to you.

MC: Sure!

Gavin: Are you done with work?

MC: Mm, I’m slacking a little and reading the reviews for the movie we watched yesterday.

MC: Vampires can teleport, influence emotions, and can even read minds. They’re so cool

Gavin: But I think werewolves are even more dashing and decisive than vampires.

MC: That’s because you’re a werewolf too!

Gavin: What?

MC: I meant in the way you’re very incredible, dashing and decisive.

Gavin: But I’m neither dashing nor decisive when faced with kids.

MC: Haha, that’s all right. Everyone has areas they aren’t good at, so don’t take it to heart.

Gavin: Mm. Do we have any plans for Halloween?

MC: Could we not eat pumpkins this year?

Gavin: Mm, looks like the pumpkin dinner last year left a large psychological shadow on you.

MC: It’s normal to get tired of something when you’ve had too much of it. This is called the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility. 

Gavin: Does this mean you’ll get tired if you stay with me for long?

MC: Do you have to rake up that incident which happened such a long time ago!

Gavin: No, I was just joking with you.

MC: Haha, you’ve learnt how to crack jokes?

Gavin: Yes, I learnt it from you.

MC: Please pay the school fees, Student.

Gavin: School fees? Could I use a story to get a discount?

MC: You can. In that case, I want to hear a unique story.

Gavin: That’s quite difficult for me. But I’ll give it serious thought.

Gavin: Mm, I just need to practice for a while.

MC: Practice? What for?

Gavin: I’ll need to tell it to our kids in the future

MC: Why are you suddenly bringing up our kids?

MC: I can’t talk anymore, I’ve got to resume filming.

Gavin: Okay, I’ll practice on my own then.

-

Fan-created Weibo Post:

Gavin’s Post: Question: How should one tell a story in order for a kid to like listening to it? (If the answer is effective, you’ll get an additional day of rest this month)

Eli: Old Gav has finally attained enlightenment. I’ll talk to you via PM!

Tang Chao: Leader, I’ve sent the answer via message!

Auntie from the Canteen: They aren’t even married yet. Listen to what Auntie says.

My Girl: ...you don’t have to be so serious about it!

-

[ DAY 67 ]

My phone is spoilt. It’s a good thing I can memorise your e-mail, and didn’t miss the sign-in.

-

MC: Haha, since you can’t use your messaging app today, I shall leave some doodles here.

MC: I’ll draw a small ugly wolf here - ^•ェ•^

MC: And here, an adorable little rabbit - ∩•ω•*∩

MC: I’ll add a clove. Hmm... how can I make a clove?

MC: Forget it, I’ll just add a Pearly - (•<>•)

MC: Finally, just to conclude, I feel a little silly today. Even though I know you’ll contact me soon...

MC: But I can’t help but say...

MC: I miss you. 

-

[ DAY 70 ]

It’s too cold to eat watermelons during this season. I bought cantaloupes and have placed them in the fridge. Remember to eat them.

-

Gavin: It’s too cold to eat watermelons during this season. I bought a cantaloupe and have placed it in the fridge. Remember to eat it.

MC: Which one is heavier - a kilogram of iron or a kilogram of cotton?

Gavin: They’re the same weight.

MC: So why would a watermelon be colder than a cantaloupe if they’re both in the fridge?

Gavin: ...putting it into the fridge preserves its freshness. When eating it, you have to leave it out till it becomes room temperature.

MC: So a watermelon is colder even at room temperature?

Gavin: Aren’t fruits with higher water content usually colder than fruits with lower water content?

MC: Is that so? Watermelons have a 94% water content and ranks No. 1. Cantaloupes have a 90% water content, and ranks No. 4.

MC: There isn't much difference.

MC: Based on such logic, drinking room temperature water is even colder.

Gavin: ...if you want to eat watermelons, I can buy one for you in the afternoon.

MC: Did I place importance on the wrong thing? The important thing is someone’s meticulous care, right? 

MC: Don’t worry, I know how well you treat me.

Gavin: So do you still want to eat a watermelon?

MC: Nope, my Gavin says watermelons are cold.

Gavin: It’s all right. If you really want to eat it, you can just eat less.

MC: it can wait till the cantaloupes have been eaten. Could you come over to eat them with me after work?

Gavin: What’s wrong? Did I buy too many?

MC: Because it’d be even warmer with you by my side! When I eat it, it wouldn’t be as cold.

Gavin: Cough. Okay, I’ll pick you up after work.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: How good you are to me - I know it very clearly.

MC: Are you referring to me? Are you referring to me?

Gavin @ MC: It’s you, it’s you.

-

[ DAY 71 ]

After the door locked, I realised that I didn’t bring my keys. I never thought that I’d have my forgetful moments too. It’s a good thing the windows weren’t locked.

-

Gavin: Something pretty new happened today.

MC: What is it?

Gavin: After the door locked, I realised that I didn’t bring my keys. I never thought that I’d have my forgetful moments too.

MC: In that case, do you want to come over to my place for now?

Gavin: It’s a good thing the windows weren’t locked.

Gavin: ...

MC: That’s good! I even wanted to call the locksmith for you.

MC: But it’s been so cold recently. it’s better to close the windows at night, or you might catch a cold.

Gavin: Hearing what you just said, I’m not very sure if I locked the windows. Maybe I locked them because of the falling temperatures.

MC: Take a look after work then.

Gavin: ...okay.

[ Today, 12:33 ]

Gavin: What if it’s locked?

MC: Find a locksmith!

Gavin: ...got it.

[ Today, 12:40 ]

Gavin: I suddenly remembered that I need to head out for a mission today, so it might be very late by the time I return. Would the locksmith still be open?

MC: They’re usually open for business around the clock. Hold on, I’ll send you the phone number of the locksmith who helped me previously.

MC: 07295287

MC: What’s up with you today? Did you skip breakfast? You seem a little dazed?

Gavin: ...

MC: Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that.

MC: I just think you’re a little different today. How could you have forgotten such a habitual thing?

Gavin: It’s nothing much.

MC: There’s something off about your mood.

Gavin: There’s really nothing.

MC: Okay...

MC: In that case, you should come over to my place later.

MC: It’d be so late when you return. By the time the locksmith arrives, you’ll be frozen. We’ll handle it tomorrow, okay?

Gavin: I’ll be fine.

MC: If you don’t listen to me, I’ll get angry!

Gavin: Okay, don’t be mad. I’ll listen to you.

MC: Mm, be safe at work, and see you tonight.

Gavin: See you tonight. 

-

Fan-created Weibo Post:

Eli’s Post: A certain someone is bursting with joy today, and even smiled at me!!! What happened? Oh no, did I make a mistake?

Tang Chao: Relax, Captain Eli. It has nothing to do with you.

Eli @ Tang Chao: I can rest assured then. What’s up with him?

Tang Chao @ Eli: Don’t probe any further, I’m afraid of getting slaughtered!

-

[ DAY 72 ]

I’ve familiarised myself with the technique of cutting bunny apple slices. Next time, I’ll show it to you.

-

Gavin: I’ve familiarised myself with the technique of cutting bunny apple slices. Next time, I’ll show it to you.

[ Today, 12:02pm ]

Gavin: What’s wrong, are you busy?

[ Today, 12:06pm ]

Gavin: Why aren’t you picking up? Did something happen?

Gavin: Call me when you see this.

MC: I’m busy now. My darling is amazing. I’ll call you later. 

Gavin: Who are you?

Gavin: I’m warning you. No matter how you obtained her account number, I have my ways of tracking you down.

MC: Sorry Gavin, something cropped up earlier. I’m sending a client out, so I can’t call you right now.

MC: It’s really me, my account hasn’t been stolen, and I’m very safe. I’ll explain more later. I’ll take around 10 minutes at most. Trust me, okay?

Gavin: Okay.

[ Today, 12:12pm ]

MC: Sorry! I made you worry. I didn't do it on purpose... don’t be mad.

Gavin: So what happened?

MC: I was tidying up some files earlier for the client.

MC: Minor and the others had my phone to check some meeting records. He said you sent a message, and that you sounded very anxious and worried.

MC: So I told him to reply based what I said. I didn't think that...

Gavin: You said that?

MC: Nope. My original words were “I’m busy now. Gavin is amazing...”

Gavin: ...got it.

MC: Don’t blame him, he didn’t mean it.

MC: He explained it to me, and said...

Gavin: What did he say?

MC: He said he didn’t expect people who are dating to not call each other “my darling”...

Gavin: Cough, sorry.

MC: Why the sudden apology?

Gavin: I’ve never noticed such things. If you want to hear it next time...

Gavin: I could call you that too.

MC: Really? Let me hear it now then.

Gavin: Now?

MC: You just said you could it. Not even half a minute has passed and you’re already going back on your word?

Gavin: No, I just...

MC: All right, I was just teasing you. I really like how you call me “My Girl”, “Little Lamb” and other pet names.

MC: They are unique, and filled with your affection and feelings.

MC: So there’s no need to force yourself to say something you don’t want to.

Gavin: It’s not that I don’t want to. My thoughts are the same as yours. I find them more unique, and better representations of us.

MC: So this misunderstanding has been cleared up, right?

Gavin: Yes.

MC: In that case, I’ll start looking forward to your bunny apple cutting skills this weekend. 

Gavin: There’s no need to wait till the weekend. I can do it now. Look outside the window.

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

MC: A certain up-and-rising cutting master’s little bunny apples - they’re amazing, aren’t they!

[words in the pink rectangle: picture of the bunny apples Gavin had cut]

Minor: That’s incredible! As expected of my Bro Gavin, the perfect man.

MC @ Minor: Relax, he doesn’t blame you. There’s no need to curry favour with him.

Minor @ MC: Thanks Sis-in-law! I can live on!

-

[ DAY 74 ]

Found a puppy stuffed toy while tidying up, and thought about how it’s been a very long time since we last went to the claw machine together.

-

MC: A new mall opened near my office recently, and there’s a very delicious ramen shop. Next time, I’ll bring you there to eat.

Gavin: Okay.

MC: There’s even a games arcade on the third floor of the mall. We can play together too.

Gavin: Speaking of games arcades, I found a puppy stuffed toy while tidying up, and thought about how it’s been a very long time since we last went to the claw machine together.

MC: I'm free.

Gavin: What did you say?

MC: I said that I’m free this weekend. Aren’t you asking me out?

Gavin: Okay, then we’ll go this weekend, and can also eat at that ramen shop you mentioned.

MC: Sure, but I really didn’t expect that!

Gavin: Didn’t expect what?

MC: I always thought you were a cool and dashing man who only liked drag racing and boxing.

MC: I didn’t think you’d have childish hobbies like roller coasters and claw machines.

Gavin: I’m not the one who wanted to ride the roller coaster...

MC: But you brought up the claw machine yourself, didn’t you?

MC: Don’t worry. No matter what you like, it wouldn’t change your perfect image in my heart. 

Gavin: The important thing isn’t the claw machine, it’s...

MC: The important thing is eating ramen?

Gavin: The important thing is being together. Being together - do you understand?

MC: I understand.

MC: Are you angry?

Gavin: No.

MC: I can tell when you’re angry or not.

Gavin: I’m really not angry.

MC: I know that you aren’t angry, but you’re not very happy either.

MC: My darling. I’m calling you “My darling”, okay? ps: My phone hasn’t been stolen! This isn’t Minor either!

MC: Or you could tell me what I need to do to make you happy.

Gavin: Go out with me, and free up your weekend for me.

MC: Okay! I’ll be with you, and my weekend will be entirely for you.

MC: Are you happy now?

Gavin: I really don’t know what to do with you

MC: That means you’re happy! Relax, I’ll stick to you the entire weekend, so you can’t toss me aside even if you wanted to!

Gavin: You said it yourself, so you’re not allowed to go back on it.

MC: When have I ever gone back on my word?

Gavin: Who was the one who asked if we could have ice-cream yesterday?

MC: Cough, that was... that was...

Gavin: Was what?

MC: I can’t find an excuse, so what?

Gavin: So what? I can only pamper you. 

MC: Look out of the window.

Gavin: To look at the stars?

MC: Can you see that my smile has reached the solar system?

Gavin: Mm, I see it. Want me to bring it back for you?

MC: No need, I’ll leave it up there to spend the night today.

Gavin: In that case, need me to cover it with a blanket? It might catch a cold that high up.

MC: Haha, stop messing around. Rest early, and see you tomorrow.

Gavin: Mm, see you tomorrow. Goodnight. 

-

Fan-created Moment Post:

Gavin’s Post: Someone said she’d stick to me over the weekend, so I'm including this picture as proof (don’t worry, only you can see it)

MC: I won’t go back on my word!

Gavin @ MC: Silly, I’m keeping it as a souvenir.

-

[ DAY 79 ]

Eli and the guys said they didn’t want to see me hovering around in STF today. How baffling. So, I’m here to see you.

-

Gavin: Want to drink milk tea? I can bring it over to you.

MC: ? You’ll be passing by my office during a mission?

Gavin: No, Eli and the guys said they didn’t want to see me hovering around in STF today. How baffling. So, I’m here to see you.

MC: Has your phone been stolen?

Gavin: No, it’s me. 

MC: No way! STF members listen to the Commander’s instructions. When does the Commander listen to them?

Gavin: ...there are times when I need to consider my subordinates’ moods.

MC: I still don’t believe it’s you.

MC: Question: When we cooked for the first time, what happened?

Gavin: I burnt the pot...

MC: It’s really you!

Gavin: ...couldn’t you have asked about something else?

MC: It was the first thing I could think of - maybe the impression was pretty deep, haha.

MC: Want me to give Eli a call to ask what exactly is going on?

Gavin: No need, it’s really nothing.

MC: What do you mean by “nothing”? You were chased out for no reason, and you aren’t angry about it. And you even left?

Gavin: How should I have reacted then?

MC: By slamming the desk harshly, then pointing at them before saying, “I’ll give you another chance. Repeat what you just said.”

Gavin: In your eyes, am I like that?

MC: Am I wrong?

Gavin: ...not entirely.

MC: All right, since you don’t want to elaborate further, I won’t probe more either. I trust that you can handle it.

MC: Come over. I’ll comfort and protect you.

Gavin: Okay.

Gavin: Is your shopping cart ready?

MC: I’m still deciding between two outfits.

Gavin: Just get them both.

MC: No need, the two outfits are very similar! Help me pick one!

Gavin: Okay, I’m already downstairs.

-

Day 80: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

夏月_mleila: Sure, of course you can. Thank you for liking it. I also wish for more people to see them

[kareofbears]

wither with you

Akechi raises a gloved hand and coughs, wincing ever so slightly. “I don’t want you here,” he says as bright petals escape through his fingers. “I don’t know how to make that more clear.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you want me here?” Sumire brings her knees up to her chest. It does little to block out the cold. “Being here, by yourself. It gets tiring, doesn’t it?”

--

Hanahaki Disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited love begins to vomit or cough up the petals of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing difficult.

read on ao3 or below the cut 

Tokyo is a busy place.

It’s constantly jam-packed with excited tourists and impatient suits and laughing teenagers. There’s lights, there’s cars, and there isn’t a lot of patience for those who can’t keep up. Eyes dart around, taking in the people, the atmosphere. It doesn’t matter how many times someone’s been there—there’s always something new to see. There’s always something new to miss.

There are spots, however. Spots that go under the radar of the hustle and bustle, of the city life so ingrained into the concrete and roads. They go undetected, and people can live their entire lives in Tokyo without knowing that these spots ever existed. With how fast life moves, these spots are respites; they act like small pocket holes of air for whoever wants it, or for whoever needs it.

Though the park is open to the public, very few people come to this section of the garden—it’s long been overgrown with weeds and tree roots make it dangerous for children to play in. When it rains, the ground turns into mud, making it unpleasant for strolls. The only plus side that it has going on for it is the aging, olive-toned gazebo with a bench that creeks whenever someone sits down.

In the end, it was the sound of retching that gave Akechi away.

He’s slouched over on the bench, eyes clenched shut. His breathing shakes along with his shoulders as he rasps for air, the rain doing little to muffle the noise. Even from this distance, she can see the petals fall and join the pile on the ground, bright and yellow like lemons.

“Would you like some water?”

He stills, and for a long moment, only the droplets ringing from the roof made a sound. Sumire lowers her hand, still clutching the bottled drink.

“Did you follow me here?” he asks, voice guttural.

There’s no point in lying. “Yes.”

A beat passes.

“That looks painful,” she says quietly.

Slowly, he raises his head, jaw tight. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. I would never.”

“Bullshit,” a smile splits across his features, and she winces. With a bright yellow petal still stuck at his bottom lip, he’s an uncanny match to a cat who just ate a bird. “You follow me here, to the middle of a random park to, what? Hold my hair back? Give me water? Give me a break and fuck off.”

Sumire shifts the umbrella in her hand. She doesn’t want to enter the undercover area just yet. “This is a nice spot,” she remarks. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

“And you won’t be coming here again.” His eyes narrow. “Are you really so bored that you stalk me all the way here for some chit chat? For small talk? Or are you just not getting the hint?”

“It doesn’t have to be small talk. I was thinking we can just...talk.”

“Talk?” he repeats, incredulous. “I don’t know how to make it more obvious that I have no interest, no willingness to talk to you. Why don’t you just run back to the little circus troupe and I’m sure that they’ll peel back some time out of their busy schedule instead of bothering me.”

“Are you busy, Akechi-kun?”

“What?”

She can’t help it anymore—her eyes flicker downwards to the small pile of petals by his feet, captivated by the vivid colors. He doesn’t miss it.

“Oh, I see now,” Akechi lets out a bark of laughter, the sound echoes against the trees. “There’s two things that you could possibly be here for: one, you’re here for a show. I don’t know how you found out, but you want to see it up close. You want to see the Detective Prince fall to his knees, for flowers to shoot out of his lungs and come out of his throat like a magic act—”

“That is not why I’m here.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Then we come to possibility number two, and to be honest, this one is much more infuriating and revolting than the last: you, Yoshizawa Sumire, pity me. You and everyone else in that ensemble of faux-heroism carry this guilt complex that gives you the drive to demean the people around you into believing that they need help, that they wanthelp, so you can show up, capes blowing in the wind, to feel needed. I don’t want any part of that—”

“I don’t pity you, Akechi,” she cuts in, stepping into the roofed area. He recoils ever so slightly. “And I’m not here for a show, either.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he reiterates, unwavering. “Because if you aren’t, then why are you here?”

“Because I’d rather be here with you than be back there with them.”

Akechi stares at her, and she stares back. After a moment, he shakes his head and stands, shoes nearly stepping into the delicate yellow pile.

“I’m done wasting my time,” he strides past without looking in her direction. “I don’t care why you’re here. I don’t care what your game is, or what you plan on doing. All I care about is you never stepping foot here again, so leave me alone.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving her in an empty gazebo. Despite having predicted that outcome, his rebuke still stung.

The rain was loud, then grew louder still. His footsteps on the mushy ground can no longer be heard from where she was standing.

Sumire takes a shallow, shaky breath, and lets out a cough.

A single, pink petal falls into the yellow heap as the rain continues to pour.

—

She was already sitting on the bench with a plastic bag at her side when Akechi arrived the next day.

He studies her, and she lets herself hope for a heartbeat.

Then he turns around and walks away.

—

Her bottled tea has long since cooled in her hands as she waits for him to show up.

When he doesn’t, she tosses it in the trash with a grimace.

—

Rain continues to pour down from the gutter of the gazebo, plastic bag swaying from her fingertips.

Sumire coughs, and again. Each time, a flurry of petals escaped from her lips. She doesn’t see him today, either.

—

“Are you going to keep doing this?”

She glances up from reading the label of her ginger tea to see him leaning against the wooden pillar.

“Yes, I think so.”

Akechi raises a gloved hand and coughs, wincing ever so slightly. “I don’t want you here,” he says as bright petals escape through his fingers. “I don’t know how to make that more clear.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you want me here?” Sumire brings her knees up to her chest. It does little to block out the cold. “Being here, by yourself. It gets tiring, doesn’t it?”

He doesn’t even wait for her to finish speaking—by the time she gets her question out, he’s already leaving tracks in the mud.

—

For three days, Sumire has the gazebo all to herself, with nothing but her drink and the autumn leaves to keep her company. Occasionally, a petal joins her. She doesn’t know if it’s from pity or punishment.

—

“Maybe you’re too stupid to understand what I’m saying.”

His cool mockery can’t be found anywhere today—with his open glare and tight jaw, it’s clear that annoyance has taken its place. Hesitantly, she calls that a good thing.

“I won’t mince my words,” Akechi runs a hand through his hair roughly. “I do not want you near me. I do not want you near this place. Every time I see you sitting on that bench, I feel sick. You’re a nuisance to me, Yoshizawa. I don’t know if your existence is to punish me, mock me, or worse, you’re here because your sad little heart feels sorry for me, but I do not care. Get out of my sight, or I swear I’ll—”

His voice falters, and his eyes flutter shut.

Sumire peers at him curiously. “Akechi? Are you—”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t look—”

“Shut up,” he hisses. “Don’t breathe, don’t move, or I’ll make you regret it.”

She stays deathly still, afraid of what’ll happen if she makes any movement. All she can do is stare as he clamps a hand over his mouth, brows furrowed, chest rising and falling shakily. In just a matter of moments, a light sheen covers his forehead. In the faint light coming through cloudy skies, he looks more exhausted than she’s ever seen him.

And just when she thinks that he’s got it under control, his eyes fly wide open and he lurches forward, his torso hanging over the edge, making the entire gazebo creak under a new weight as he vomits out a stream of bright, yellow dandelions. Petals burst forth and sank into autumn foliage in a grim way. She watches him heave up an entire bouquet, desperately clutching the railing to the point where there’s a risk it might snap underneath his hand. After what seemed like hours, Akechi finally slumps back, hair sticking to his forehead and sheer with sweat. The rain mingles in seamlessly with his stuttering panting.

Automatically, Sumire reaches forward to...what? Comfort him? Rub his back? She makes a fist around her plastic bag instead.

When he finally speaks, he doesn’t raise his voice above a whisper. “Was that what you wanted?”

Yes. No. “I don’t know.”

“I should have asked this the minute I saw you here,” his eyes slide sideways to meet hers, and there’s still a single petal stuck to his coat collar. “But why are you even here?”

When she doesn’t answer, he rolls his eyes. “Oh, I see. So you tail me, force me out of my own makeshift hideout, wait until I display a humiliating act of weakness, for seemingly no reason? And here I thought I was the sadistic one.”

“You’re wrong about that.”

“Then enlighten me, Yoshizawa.”

Before she answers, Sumire rummages through her plastic bag to pull out bottled hot lemonade (still warm this time), and places it next to Akechi.

“Might help your throat,” she smiles slightly. He ignores it, so she pushes forward. “It’s what I said, from before. It must be tiring. Exhausting.”

“To what?”

“To be by yourself. All the time. Especially with what you have to go through.”

“So you do pity me?”

“Far from it.”

“Then what is it?”

The smell of petrichor seems ingrained in the old wood, but fresh rain only makes the smell of fallen leaves even stronger.

"You're in love with Akira, right?"

Akechi gives her an empty stare, not a single emotion leaking through. "And what about it? What does that have to do with you being here?"

Sumire opens her mouth to respond, when she feels something catch in her throat. Quickly turning away, she coughs, hard. Hard enough that her chest constricts in pain and her throat feels like it's on fire and full of water at the same time, like a dam imploded and now all the debris is stuck in one area. For each time she coughs, a flurry of pink flies from her lips—a macabre hanami in the middle of autumn.

By the time she turns back to him, his eyes are wide, before it dawns with understanding.

“Huh.”

She can’t help but smile, just a little. “Sounds about right. That’s...that’s how I found out about you, actually. With how you looked at Akira—”

“Don’t,” he cuts in, and for the first time, his composed expression cracks; enough to reveal the hurt underneath. “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

It looked exactly how I would stare at him, too.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I won’t.”

Despite everything, Sumire feels...good. Better. The seemingly-permanent weight on her shoulders eases as the words left her mouth. It felt inexplicably good to finally say it out loud, to let her thoughts leak into the world, and to have someone listen in return.

“Is that why you’re here?”

She glances at him. He’s staring at the puddles accumulating at the foot of the steps, the stillness constantly interrupted by the never-ending raindrops that seem to favor them to no end.

Does he mean the loneliness that comes with this? The isolation? The feeling of being stuck, unable to move forward and impossible to ever move back, despite being willing to do anything to get rid of this humiliating sickness? The fact that even her own body is ashamed of her feelings to the point where it wants to make it known to everyone around her?

It doesn’t matter. The answer won’t change.

“Yes.”

Akechi nods like he understands, like he really, truly understands. And he does. Sumire lets out a breath.

“Sorry, by the way.”

“What for?”

Sumire gestures vaguely. “For invading your privacy. For following you to a place that’s pretty much become your oasis, and forcibly taking it from you.” She rubs the back of her neck. “That was kind of horrible of me.”

He scoffs. “You think that was enough to bother me? That was nothing but a nuisance. A drop in the bucket.”

She lets out a sigh of relief. That had been a point of anxiety for her, and there was a good chance that—

“As for forgiveness, however, I have to put that on hold.”

Sumire blinks, and he continues. “You’re right. You invaded my privacy by following me, and persisted even when I told you to leave me alone. That’s not something I’m willing to forget,” he readjusts his gloves. “I might be an atrocious human being, but even I’m allowed to have reservations.”

He glances at her, and he must see something in her crestfallen expression. “I’m not asking you to grovel for my forgiveness. I don’t want that—dear Lord, do I want anything less than that. I’m telling you that’s currently where I stand in terms of your apology.”

In truth, she doesn’t know how to reply, or if she even should. Sumire’s hardly spoken to him before this, and she’s not sure if they’re speaking now. Akechi Goro is incredibly hard to read. She brought this on herself—still, this is better than the alternative.

“That being said,” Akechi twists his torso to face her. “Why did you go through such an ordeal just to sit in this garbage, over glorified bus stop?”

Sumire frowns. “I think this place is beautiful.”

“That was absolutely not the point of the question.”

“I know, but I feel the need to defend it.” After all, it was the only thing separating them from the never-ending waves of rain. “You’re lucky to have claimed it before anyone else did.”

“Not lucky enough to keep it claimed, apparently.”

She huffs out a laugh. “True.”

He stays silent, and it’s enough of a hint that she takes a second to collect her thoughts.

“I’m pretty sure you already know what I’m going to say.” Sumire says it like a plea, like she’s crafting her own olive branch, but she should know better than that. It’s the price to pay if she wants to stay here.

“I know. But if there’s one thing that I hate, it’s guessing games.”

Sumire leans back against the bench, the wood cold enough to be felt through her sweater. “This place really is beautiful,” she repeats softly. “But it’s lonely, isn’t it? Especially if it’s just you here. It doesn’t matter where I am nowadays. It’s the same each time.” She tugs on her sleeves. “Ever since I fell in love with Akira, it’s been lonely wherever I am.”

She rubs her hands together. “It’s another level of isolation that comes with this disease, don’t you think? It’s one thing thing to be rejected before you even had a chance to confess; it’s another to have it broadcasted—” a familiar tickle makes its way into her throat, and when she clears her throat she can feel a few petals shift in her esophagus. It’s tough to repress another cough. “For everyone to see.”

“So you hid?”

“By myself, yes. In my room, in alley ways, bathrooms.” It becomes unbearable—she turns the other way, and frowns at the pastel blossoms. “It’s exhausting. It’s like having to hide your existence for no real reason.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“But then I saw something that I can say, without a doubt, shifted my entire world.” Sumire looks up. “I saw how you looked at him.”

He stiffens. If she closes her eyes, she can see that same, open expression that he wore when they were in Leblanc. “I thought at that moment, I wasn’t the only one dealing with this.”

“And here we are now,” he finishes.

“And here we are now.”

A bright orange leaf breaks off from a nearby branch, landing gently into their shelter. Akechi crushes it with his shoe.

“Compelling story,” he commends. “But I still want you gone.”

She can’t quite muster the feeling of surprise. “Why do you want me gone so badly?”

“That’s what the problem is, Yoshizawa. It’s not that I want you gone—it’s because I want everyone gone.” He grinds his shoe into the leaf. “I don’t care about you, or much else out there. To be frank, I hardly care about the person I’m humiliatingly head-over-heels for. You want to know what I care about? Myself. Me.” When he’s finished, he kicks it away, pliant and smushed. “And I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

It makes sense; it lines up with everything she believed Akechi stood for. It makes sense, and yet— “Isn’t it so, horribly lonely?”

“It is,” he nods. “But I’ve been like this before I’ve met Akira, or the rest of the Thieves.” Akechi shrugs. “You learn to overcome the silence. It’s long since it stopped being a real problem for me. I don’t mind anymore.”

“Just because you know how to overcome it doesn’t mean you have to live with it, Akechi.”

“Live with it? There’s a lot of things I have to live with. This is just another one.”

For a minute, Sumire can only stare at him; at his crossed arms, his defiant eyes, and when she speaks, her voice comes out soft. “You didn’t even try with him, did you?”

He laughs, the sound filled with scorn. “Of course not. Can you imagine? Confessing to Kurusu Akira, only to be laughed at? Or worse, pitied? There’s no point. It’s the epitome of a fruitless endeavor, with the way Sakamoto has him wrapped around his finger.”

It’s both a blessing and a curse: once flowers begin to bloom in your lungs, it can only mean that the one you love more than anyone else in the world does not hold the same feelings for you. Detached, unrequited love. It’s efficient—quick, swift, but far from painless. The only reason one may even try to confess is to convince the love interest to try and fall in love with them.

Strangely, she felt a sense of relief at his words. At the very least, two people out there can have a proper love story. She almost feels happy for them.

“Figures,” Sumire says. “I didn’t either.”

“Let me guess,” Akechi rolls his eyes. “‘How tragic would it be if I were to even create a possibility of splitting up these two idiots. I would never, because I’m Yoshizawa and I have eighteen guilt complexes to take care of.’ Am I close?”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? There’s no reason to make it harder for him when I already know the answer. When there’s no hope of him loving me back.”

“See, it’s shit like that that pisses me off.”

“You think that I can make him fall in love with me?” she says, incredulous.

“No,” he clears his throat, wincing. “It’s the fact that you’re letting all of these people walk over you even when you’re clearly suffering and lonely and or whatever else came out of your poetry book. It’s the fact that you’re still somehow worried over Kurusu, when you’re the one in agony.” He coughs into the crook of his elbow a few times. “It’s the fact that you’re weak enough to push your pride aside and spend time with someone who doesn’t even want you here.”

Sumire watches a full flower land in between them, still bright yellow and horrifyingly intact. “You’re so obsessed with weakness, Akechi.” She glances at him. “But do you hate it more than being alone? Than being stuck here, in this gazebo, for who knows how long?”

When he doesn’t respond, she mutters, “Isn’t being here, in and of itself, weak?”

The rain slows down ever so lightly, unnoticeable unless someone’s been watching it for the past afternoon. Even the wind seems to be taking a break—the trees are no longer under vicious scrutiny, and the flowers around them don’t have to worry about breaking off from their stems anymore.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the most honest Sumire’s ever heard him speak.

—

When she arrives the next day, he doesn’t say anything when she sits at the opposite end of the bench. When she offers him a drink, he firmly ignores it.

She considers it a win.

—

It’s quieter now. It’s always been quiet, but this is one she isn’t used to.

Instead of the white noise keeping her company, it’s a boy who barely looks in her direction, who coughs yellow dandelions up like he has a wild field growing deep in his lungs. Instead of the silence keeping her company, it’s the combination of rain and breathing that rings through the air. It’s not the still air of her bedroom, or an unfamiliar bathroom that she hides herself in; it’s fresh air, it’s the autumn chill, it’s a near-stranger sitting on the opposite end of the bench.

It’s a good kind of quiet.

They spend days like this. Quietly arriving, quietly leaving. Wrapped in silence and in each other’s company. Sometimes, one of them gets into a coughing fit, and the other knows to look away. The fits are mostly harmless, but sometimes they get rough. Intense. And it happens for Akechi more often than not. Every time she feels that she should reach out. Every time, she talks her way out of it.

Curiosity is enough to make the quiet step away for a moment, though.

“Does anyone else know?”

Akechi’s eyes slide from the horizon to meet hers, his gaze scrutinizing. “Are you joking? Of course not.”

“I should’ve known,” she shifts so that her hands are under her thighs. The weather is brutal, but she expected it. It’s better than the alternative. “I’m just surprised to meet someone else who has it too, given how rare it is.” Sumire pauses. “Then again, it kind of makes sense that two people who awakened inner monsters from our souls end up having to cough up a bouquet every once in a while.”

He doesn’t respond, which isn’t out of the ordinary. Usually, he likes to keep their small talk as short as possible. It doesn’t do much to discourage her. After all, it would be nice to befriend the boy she’s been seeing every day. There’s so little she knows about him, so many questions she wants to ask. There’s no one else she can possibly talk about this curse with, no one to share the burden of knowing how this feels. So she holds onto hope that he’d like to talk about this too. In terms of her odds in success though, she’s not holding her breath.

Still, she’s nothing if not resilient.

—

Every day, she brings a snack and a drink from the nearby convenience store and places a bottle of hot lemonade in between them. When he ignores it, she reluctantly throws it in the trash. It makes her grimace. What a waste.

On the fourth day, he sighs.

“Why do you do that?”

Sumire pauses in chewing her rice crackers, surprised—it’s the first time he’s talking to her without prompt. “Sorry, am I loud?”

“No. Actually, yes, but that’s not what I’m asking.” His eyes dart down at the cooling bottles and back at her. “Why do you keep trying to give me these cheap drinks when you know I’m not going to drink it? You obviously hate throwing them away, but you still do it.”

She’s about to answer when he holds up a finger. She pauses, knowing what it means by this point: Don’t you dare say anything about this.

He stands and leans over the railing, and she looks away just as he alternates between vomiting and wheezing. From the corner of her eyes, she can see him tremble ever so slightly. Her hand twitches towards him, but she stops herself. It would only do more harm than good. She hasn’t experienced this point of the disease—at least, not yet, but it’s inevitable. It’s a matter of how long someone’s been in love, rather than the strength of the love itself.

Questions pop into her head, and she isn’t as eager to ask these ones. Judging by the frequency of his coughs and his occasional tendency to get very sick, he’s been in this longer than she has. How long has he had it? How long has he been coming here? How long has he been alone?

Somehow, she knows that it was far before the disease took over.

When he finishes, he sinks back into the bench, hair sticking to his forehead. “The drink?” Akechi repeats, continuing as if nothing happened.

“It’s supposed to relieve throat pain. And you have throat pain.”

He squints. “Then why don’t you drink it?”

“I don’t like lemon.”

If she didn’t know better, it almost looks like the corner of his lip twitched upwards. “I don’t want you spending money because you pity me, Yoshizawa. It’s demeaning.”

“I don’t pity you,” she nearly sighs. “And fun fact: these drinks are buy one, get one free! So I can get my tea, and you can get your throat-healing lemonade.”

Akechi opens his mouth, a retort about to fly out, when he begins to cough instead. She gently inches the bottle closer to him.

When she looks away to give him any privacy an open gazebo can offer, she doesn’t miss the way his hands tuck the bottle inside of his jacket packet.

—

“You’re a liar.”

Sumire’s eyes widen and hopes it comes off right. “What?”

Today is a rare sunny day, and it gives the whole area a glow that she’s never seen before—the sun’s rays hit the still-moist grass in a way that’s pleasant to her eyes, and the colors of the autumn leaves strewn around the park had never been brighter.

“Your stupid ‘buy-one-get-one’ spiel? That doesn’t exist?” Akechi acccuses, looming over her. “Who lies about hot lemonade, of all things?”

She suppresses a sigh. Lying had never been her forte. “Okay fine, you got me.”

“I knew it—!”

“But I only lied because I knew you’d make a huge fuss over nothing!”

“This isn’t a fuss, Yoshizawa. You know how much I—”

“—hate being pitied,” they say in unison.

“See? I knew you’d say that,” Sumire groans. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t have pity for you. We have the same problem.”

“Then why lie?”

“Because you’d never accept it otherwise!”

The exclamation jolts something from within her throat, and Akechi must recognize her expression. He huffs and reluctantly turns sideways as she coughs, paying no mind to the pink petals that must fly into his field of view. Once she settles down again, Akechi raises an eyebrow.

“Well?”

She tests her breathing before she speaks again. Clear, for now. “Look. I know what you’re going through. I probably know what you’re going through better than anyone else in this world. Me buying you hot lemonade isn’t an elaborate plan to make you look stupid, Akechi—it’s because I’m worried that your throat’s going to split someday.”

“I don’t need you taking care of me.”

“That’s why I lied,” she repeats, for what feels like the millionth time. “But you just had to use your detective skills on me.”

Akechi glowers at her, and she gazes right back. “Are you going to keep getting me shit lemonade?”

“As long as you keep coughing the way you do,” she shrugs. “Yeah, I probably will.”

After a moment, the tension leaves his shoulders. “I don’t like feeling the feeling of owing you.”

“It’s a hundred yen.”

“So,” he ignores her, rummaging through his jacket pockets before throwing something small at her. She catches it and peers down at her hand: a bottle of ginger tea. “Apparently this is supposed to help your throat, too.”

She stares at it with wide eyes. “You bought this for me?”

“In a sense. It’s more because I don’t want you to think you have one over me.”

She can’t help it—a smile splits across her face. “You bought me tea so you can sleep better at night?”

“‘It’s a hundred yen,’” he mocks. “Get over yourself. And stop getting me the lemonade so I don’t have to keep owing you.”

“But you like the lemonade?”

Akechi shoots her a look. “This isn’t about the lemonade, it’s about you unnecessarily buying the lemonade. So, I am asking you politely: don’t buy me lemonade.”

—

When she places a bottle of lemonade the next day, he immediately stands up and leaves the gazebo.

Five minutes later, he returns with hot ginger tea and a fierce scowl.

“Stop.”

“It’s good for your health,” she argues, accepting the bottle from him. It’s almost a little too hot, given the lingering tingle from her palms.

“It’ll be bad for your health if you keep pissing me off like this.”

Sumire realizes something as she unscrews the lid. It should’ve been obvious from the very beginning. From the way he acts, to his hatred of weakness, to his actions and even something as simple as accepting convenience store drinks:

Akechi Goro hates to lose.

—

“You’re bullshitting me.”

She sets down a full plastic bag on the bench. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I ended up getting a lot.”

The heat of his glare almost stings her cheek. Ignoring him, she continues to rummage through her groceries. “Are you more of a chips sort of person? Pocky? I like rice crackers myself, but I’m willing to share if you—”

“I don’t want any of this,” he hisses, coughing a little. “Why are you bringing a pantry into my gazebo?”

Our gazebo, she almost says. To be fair, it’s hardly his gazebo either.

“A few reasons.” Sumire starts setting down the contents of her bag onto the bench. Maybe if he sees something he likes, he’ll take it. Like a stray cat. A feral cat. “We’re here pretty often, and other than the drinks we keep forcing down on each other, we don’t eat.”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“And I stopped by the convenience store to get your drink—”

“That I never wanted.”

“When I saw this poster on the wall that said something along the lines of,” she stretches her arm out, painting a grand picture for him to imagine like a second-rate salesman. ‘Hot pot: the meal that warms the heart and body.’ And I thought since—oh, warning, I’m going to be blunt for a second—we’re both pretty heartbroken and diseased, that maybe we could use some of that healing hot pot.”

Akechi blinks slowly. “I don’t even know where to start with that one. That ad actually worked on you?”

“Why on earth would they lie to their customer base?” She frowns. “Obviously, I can’t just bring an entire hot pot with me to a park, so I had the idea of buying a bunch of snacks instead. So,” gesturing at the pile of junk food laid on her seat, and threatening to topple to his side of the bench. “We feast.”

The rain that starts to fall only works to emphasize the silence between the two of them.

And then he tilts his head. “You’re sort of chatty, aren’t you?” Akechi says, his tone surprised.

“It’s fine if you don’t like the snacks, but you don’t have to be rude about it.”

“No, it’s not about your sack of low-cost goods—it’s an observation.” He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “I don’t think you’ve ever been this chatty.”

She stills, hand frozen over a bag of seaweed. The weight of the petals suddenly seem heavier in her throat, making sure that it isn’t forgotten. Her stomach twists slightly, and she feels sick. A foreign sick, not the one she’s used to.

He’s right—she’s not chatty. At least, not anymore. Not since the loneliness took over. And Akechi doesn’t hesitate, nor does he miss anything. The minute he saw a shift in her, he picked up on it like it was nothing. Like he’s starting to know her.

This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? To stop having to hide? To know someone who understands what she’s going through? That’s why she chased Akechi down the way she did; it was stifling to have to live with this curse by herself, to have a secret that’s literally too big to keep inside. And now that it finally, finally seems like it’s going in the right direction, a realization looms over her like a shadow from an impossibly tall structure. For the first time, she understands what Akechi’s been saying to her, with venom and a sureness of his words: I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.

Not hiding comes with something she forgot to account for—making herself known.

A wave of nausea settles inside of her, stronger this time. The first time she made herself known, she lost her in an infuriatingly avoidable car rash. The last time she made herself known, it made flowers bloom from within her lungs like an inescapable garden, a siren call that she’s paying the price for.

And here she is now, again.

“Oh, very funny.”

His words pull her out of her spiral, and she blinks into focus. “Sorry?”

He crinkles something plastic in his hand, his expression incredibly unamused. “You think that bribing me with jewelry is going to make you more superior to me? That it’ll make me buy you three more of your silly drinks in an attempt to get the upper hand? This ploy won’t work.”

“I’m not following,” she admits. Jewelry?

Sighing, he opens his hand to reveal a Ring Pop in his palm. “Even by the usual standards, this is an inept method of strategy. It makes me feel almost sorry for you.”

The rain picks up, a pleasant pitter-patter of droplets hitting the roof of their aging gazebo.

She can’t hold it in anymore.

Sumire bends forward and snorts, the sound echoing unappealingly across the park, but she can’t even bring herself to care. And when Akechi quickly turns his head away from her, all sense of self-control breaks loose and she’s gasping so heavily that she feels light-headed.

“I understand that we have an unspoken agreement not to mention the sickness,” Akechi starts, looking vaguely uncomfortable and still avoiding her gaze. “But I’d really appreciate it if you...did your business outside of the roofed area—”

A burst of laughter cuts him off, and her side is starting to seriously hurt. “Akechi—” Sumire tries, before a fit of laughter overtakes her, the sound so loud that she swears she’s probably disturbing the wildlife in this area.

“You’re so,” she gasps out. Her lungs are burning, and for once, she doesn’t want it to stop. “Funny!”

“I’m what?”

“This isn’t the petals! I’m just laughing!”

Just as she was starting to get her breathing back in control, he turns in her direction, brows furrowed. “Why are you laughing? This is a serious matter.”

That’s all it took to send her back into a spiral of hysterics. She’s laughing so hard that she can hardly see past the tears in her eyes. She’s laughing so hard that the sharp intake of breath hurts her throat, but it isn’t enough to discourage her. She’s laughing so hard that she forgets what she was so worried about.

In the back of her mind, she wonders when was the last time she smiled so intensely that her cheeks hurt.

She wouldn’t have felt this if she hadn’t come here. If he wasn’t there to say those words, or if she didn’t get oddly competitive with Akechi for no good reason.

If it meant laughing like this, talking like this, smiling like this, then maybe she can find it in her to make herself known again.

—

It doesn’t matter how many times it happens.

He could have a hand over his mouth, a narrow finger held up. He could be gripping the edge of the bench like a lifeline before running to a nearby tree. He could be leaned over the railing, knuckles white as he pukes out wave after wave of bright, yellow petals.

It doesn’t matter how many times it happens—Sumire will always have the desperate urge to reach out towards him. She isn’t even a particularly tactile person. In a way, they have that in common; neither of them seem to be in need of physical touch, and they’ve both been firm with each other about scrapping together whatever privacy can be offered in the wall-less architecture of their established gazebo. So she doesn’t reach out.

But today is particularly bad.

By the time she gets there—jeans soaked from the rain and shivering through her coat—it only takes her a moment to realize that his retching wasn’t normal.

Akechi’s sitting at the very edge of the bench, his head between his legs as he vomits. Again. And again. The stream of petals were there, except now there're the occasional fully in-tact buds that were so large that it makes him choke. It’s as gruelling to listen to as it was to catch a glimpse of it—a sound torn between a wheeze and a groan, interrupted only by more coughs. His body was curled in on itself, seemingly without his permission. With the way his entire form juddered, she can only guess how straining it was for him to carry.

She swallows. As slowly as she can, she sits beside him. If he notices her presence, he doesn’t say anything.

The rain continues to pour, unaware of two teenagers taking refuge in a spot that was never theirs to claim. Raindrops make a sort of haze that takes over the park, making it difficult to discern anything past a few meters from where she is. It gives their spot the feeling of a snow globe: encapsulated. Familiar. A stream of water drips down from the roof, to the gutter, and eventually makes its way to an ever growing puddle.

Sumire raises her hand and, before she thinks too hard, lightly rests it on his spine.

He stiffens, taking in a sharp breath. It’s entirely possible that she’s imagining it, but it almost feels like he might be leaning back.

And then the retching resumes, more punishing than before. Her hand gently slides up his back, and down again in what she hopes is comforting. Grounding. The whole time, she’s watching for minute changes in his expression, wanting nothing less than to decrease his discomfort.

She doesn’t find any.

After what seems like hours, he finally slumps forward, exhausted. Too worn out to muster much other than his breath. When she offers him his drink, he silently takes it, downing it all in one go.

The rain pours on.

—

Sumire hasn’t even stepped onto the wooden platform when Akechi bluntly asks, “Do you even do anything?”

“Please try to be more specific if you’re trying to hurt me before I even get to say hello.”

“Hello,” he sighs, impatient “And I’m not trying anything. It’s a question—what do you do when you’re not, I don’t know, crying in your bedroom and whatnot?”

He passes her drink as she passes his, repressing the urge to throw it at him instead. At least it seems like he’s feeling a little better than yesterday. “You’re rude, you know that?”

“I’ve been made aware, yes.”

Sumire flops down onto the bench, thinking. “Lately I’ve been keeping up with school. I’m having a little trouble with history. There’s this new anime I’ve been watching, but I have to say, it’s a little boring.” A pause. “Um, is there anything specific you’re wondering about?”

“Not at all,” he breaks open his seal and takes a sip. “Is that it?”

She scratches her head, strangely embarrassed. “I’ve been trying to learn how to cook smaller portions, since I’m not moving around as much lately. “ Not exactly easy to do her routines when she’s in constant fear of adding petals to her cartwheels. “I need new boots, considering my old ones are falling apart. I see everyone at school, too. They always ask me to have lunch with them.” She doesn’t mention the part where she declines every time. Shame and guilt bubbles inside her, but it’s less painful than what would happen if she says yes.

Sumire shrugs. “Between that and coming here, there’s not much going on.”

“I see.”

She breaks her own seal and takes a long drink. “Okay, I give up. What was that about?”

To her surprise, he looks genuinely caught off guard—his brown eyes widen every so slightly, and he raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never done that before,” she says. “Small talk, I mean. It’s kind of strange.” That’s an understatement.

“What’s so strange about this? Just because I never made conversation before doesn’t mean I couldn’t. I’m fairly good at conversation when I need to be.”

“I can imagine.” In the few episodes of Good Morning Japan that he caught with him as the guest, he had no problem being charismatic and lively and enchanting to the audience. It’s weird to even imagine that now. “But you don’t do that anymore.”

“And thank God for that,” he scoffs. Tightening his scarf, Akechi turns to her, condescension clear in his eyes. “Am I not allowed to wonder what you do outside of the confines of this muddy park?”

Sumire blinks, before a smile stretches over her face. “Don’t tell me…”

“Ugh, you have the wrong idea,” he rolls his eyes.

“Akechi—”

“Stop.”

“You care?” she feels herself absolutely beam at him. It’s oddly endearing, witnessing his roundabout way of compassion.

He shifts so that he’s turned away, arms crossed. “Nevermind, you’re too annoying to put up with. Leave. Begone. Get out of my sight.”

Tapping her feet on the wood, she can’t stop grinning. “No, you’d be too worried about me if I just left you here.”

Akechi throws a dark glare behind him, and she holds up her hands. “Kidding!”

It’s more fun than she thought it would to tease him. Too bad he’ll probably go off if she keeps this up. “And how about you?

“What do you mean?” he mutters, still turned away.

“What do you do? Other than bullying people and buying me drinks, I mean.”

Akechi shrugs. “Nothing noteworthy. Since I don’t do detective duties anymore, I’ve had no obligation to make public appearances or work cases.”

“Well, you must have a lot of free time, then,” she presses. It’s something she hasn’t considered until he had bought it up—it’s not as if the world stops and starts whenever they’re both sitting here together, despite what it may feel like. “Do you have hobbies, maybe?”

He stays silent for a second, before: “Reading.”

“Reading,” Sumire repeats, considering his answer. “It suits you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, spinning to give her a look. “How do I look like I read?”

She gives him a once over; from his tawny coat and his green scarf, it always makes him look sharp, but it’s more in the way he holds himself; his back is almost always straight, his shoulders pulled back. Akechi always seems confident in what he does, so sure of himself that it might take people a second to realize what he’s actually saying instead of being pulled along blindly. She coughs, a petal escaping her lips. “Just trust me.”

“Whatever.” He leans back into his seat, his expression curious. “Do you read?”

“Mangas, mostly? I used to read more when I was younger, but then gymnastics took over my life.”

“I’ve never been interested in that genre,” he admits. “It seems a little too close to make-believe to be enjoyable.”

She huffs out a laugh. “I can understand that.”

They lapse into a silence, and she can’t tell if this is weird. If this were anyone else, it wouldn’t be, but she’s pretty sure this isn’t normal. Sumire’s grown accustomed to Akechi’s distant demeanor, his emphasis on privacy. This is an oddity, a confounding variable she hoped they would eventually head towards but she still isn’t ready for.

Sumire doesn’t know what this is, but she knows she doesn’t want it to end.

“Do you have a favorite book?”

Akechi’s eyes slide towards hers. “I have a few.”

“Can I borrow one?” she asks. “I’ve been wanting to get back into reading for some time now, but I don’t know where to start.”

He stares at her, and Sumire almost laughs—only Akechi can be this wary about book sharing. After a moment, he looks away.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow,” he says quietly. A gust of wind blows, but all she feels is warmth.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

—

The bench is empty.

She studies it, scrutinizing the empty space where Akechi sits. It’s not the first time that she arrives before he does, but it’s rare. A tinge of smugness sets in her chest as she makes herself comfortable on the bench—it’ll be fun to tease him about winning today.

It starts to drizzle once again. The smell of wet grass and moist wood slowly fills the air, only adding to the atmosphere that she’s come to memorize and appreciate. The soft pitter patter makes itself prevalent on the leaves, so relaxing that it almost never fails to comfort her. Before, rain had brought her nothing but repressed memories and puddles of red. Rain had been a source of tragedy, a reminder that mocks her whenever cloudy skies loom above.

Now, rain can only be a source of pleasure. The smell clears her mind, and the gentle sounds are company that she looks forward to greeting. Even in silence, all she can associate with it is snarky remarks and quiet confessions. Of arguments and hot drinks. Of brown hair and sharp eyes.

And then her world starts to spin.

A horrible sensation takes over her without warning, a crossbreed between nausea and suffocation infects all of her senses, forcing her to lurch forward and retch so hard she can feel tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. It doesn’t stop there—the minute she thinks she can catch her breath, a wave of petals rises up her throat, choking her, demanding that she coughs and coughs until a hint of blood begins flooding into her mouth.

This is a torture she doesn’t recognize, an unfathomable overencumburance of agony. She retches again. No, that’s not true. This is familiar, but it’s evolved to a new level that she can’t even begin to comprehend. It makes her coughs from before feel like butterfly wings flapping in her throat. is a merciless tidal wave that shows no signs of stopping.

Her hand grips the edge of the bench, trembling. This is insane. The sheer amount of pain makes her nerves throb, her heart pound. It’s nearly on par with her Persona awakening; two different types of fabled events that no one should ever have to experience. Feeling lightheaded, she leans on her knees and concentrates on breathing, eyes clenched tight though she has no trouble imagining the flurry of pink falling between her boots.

For a time, Sumire stays like this: choking, coughing, retching, alternating between suffocation and sharp pains in her esophagus. It’s like she’s floating, tether snipped away, and now she’s drifting in an endless open space, with nothing but the petals keeping her company.

And then she isn’t.

A weight rests on her back, warm and present. She can’t bring herself to look up, and she doesn’t even have the strength to twist her head, but the presence is familiar enough that she doesn’t need to.

The touch is light, hesitant, and Sumire finds herself leaning into it before she can stop herself. It’s warm, enough that she feels heat through her coat, and he starts to gently drag his hand up and down. The feeling of that warmth spreads through her. She exhales shakily.

Sumire gets it now. Why Akechi had let her comfort him had been a mystery, but it’s clear. Obvious, even.

When you don’t want to show the world what’s wrong with you, you hide. Keep the world at arm’s reach, so that nothing else can get to you, to protect what little you have left. But in the process of maintaining that distance, you lose what you didn’t even know you had. That loss, it builds and builds, festering. And Sumire doesn’t doubt that Akechi’s been building it for longer than she has.

In the act of defending themselves, they’ve forgotten how nice it feels like to be comforted.

It still hurts, and she’s still suffocating, but she’s not floating anymore. Her petals aren’t the only ones who stay with her anymore.

It could have been minutes, or hours, but they both stay like this. The downpour continues, droplets intermingling with the sound of her choking and coughing. He doesn’t say a word throughout. If his hand wasn’t there, she wouldn’t have thought there was anyone beside her at all.

Finally, Sumire collapses back against the bench, mildly sweaty and shivering slightly, as if she had just run a marathon. She feels disgusting, and slightly unnerved—the sheer amount of petals at her feet is unsettling to say the least. Like the remains of a massacre taken place in the middle of a flower field.

Too drained to fill in the silence with conversation, she leans her head back and closes her eyes, enjoying the chilling breeze that hits her overheating cheeks. Akechi presses a cold bottle into her hands, and she has just enough energy left not to let it slip from her fingers.

“Your flowers aren’t violets, are they?”

Sumire opens an eye to find Akechi peering down at the petals, curious. “Though it would be amusing if they were.” He looks up. “What flower is it? I don’t recognize them.”

“Oh,” she rasps. “Cyclamens.”

He hums. “I’ve never seen them before. They’re an interesting shape.”

She can only nod. “Yours are nice, too.”

Akechi’s face twists. “There’s no need to pretend. We all know dandelions are barely considered flowers, if ever. Bottom of the barrel weeds, frustrating nuisances. I don’t even get the wishing type, only the yellow ones.” He smoothes out his features, turning it carefully blank. Her chest tightens. “Pathetic.”

“Pretty.”

He blinks, before turning towards her. “What?”

Sumire clears her throat, wincing. “The yellow ones,” she whispers. “I think they’re pretty.”

“No, you don’t.” He rebukes, measured and sharp.

“Nice colors, self-sustaining. Resilient.” She shrugs. “What’s not to like?”

When he doesn’t respond, she glances at him before looking away. There’s something so open about his expression, something vulnerable that she feels like she shouldn’t be allowed to look.

The air tasted wet and heavy with rain.

“Is it too late to accept your apology?” he asks, and she didn’t know he was capable of having a voice that soft.

Delight cuts through her fatigue long enough for her to scoot towards him, shoulder to shoulder. He’s surprisingly warm.

“You’re just in time, I think.”

—

She’s about to leave when Akechi stops her.

“Here.”

Sumire glances at the plastic bag hanging from his fingertips. “My birthday’s in March.”

“It’s the book, you massive hassle,” he rolls his eyes, impatiently shaking his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to give it to you yesterday.”

“Oh! Thank you!” she takes it, peering inside. “Are you sure you want to lend me this? If it’s your favorite book—”

“It’s fine,” he waves a gloved hand. “It’s doing nothing but collecting dust anyway. Take it.”

Sumire nods, and considers putting it in a sealed plastic bag to keep it safe. He’d probably make fun of her for it. “It’s not very long,” she notes.

“I wanted to start you off light. That’s only one of the ones I liked, if you want more—”

“Give me those too!” There’s something exciting about seeing Akechi’s interests, similar to seeing someone’s bedroom for the first time. “They’re probably really good, too.”

“Hold on, see if you like this one first,” he says. “I’ll give you the others when you finish, so you don’t have to carry around all of them.”

She gives him a wide smile. “You know, it’s really sweet to see you care this much, Goro.”

The name slips out without her consent, and even though she was the one teasing him, Sumire feels a rush of heat floods her cheeks. “Um, sorry, that was—actually, it’s fine, right? Unless it isn’t, but I mean, I feel like we can start—well, it’s up to you but—”

Akechi lets out a sigh, striding past her, boots sinking into the mud. “Let me know when you’ve finished the book, Sumire.”

Her chest constricts, not unpleasantly. “I will!”

She waits for him to leave her line of sight, before sitting down on the wooden steps. Pulling out the book, she begins to read.

—

“What on earth is all of this?”

“Paying my debts,” he replies, four full paper bags threatening to topple off his lap and off the bench. “You didn’t think I’d forget about something like that, did you?”

“No,” she says, staring as he struggles to reign them all in. “Because a normal person probably would.”

“A normal person would forget because they’re weak.”

“Yes, and you didn’t forget because you’re not very normal, Goro.” Finding it too hard to keep watching, she finally moves forward to catch them before they hit the ground. They’re lighter than she thought they’d be. “Snacks?”

“In that one, yes. But in these ones,” he gestures to the other two bags, a smirk settled in his expression. “I have legitimate food. Onigiris and sandwiches—none of that processed trash you keep feeding us.”

“Onigiris?” she throws his bags back at him forcefully (“Ow?”) and dashes to the others. “Salmon filled! Oh my God, you’re amazing.”

Akechi rubs his shoulder, but he’s still smug. “Aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Sumire bites into the onigiri, a burst of flavor seeping into her mouth. Amazing. “The greatest in the world.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“The best friend I could ever ask for!”

“Calm down, it’s just an onigiri.” He sighs, exasperated, but a little pleased—his own version of smiling. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “Pass me some, I’m starved.”

“I thought you don’t get hungry?”

“Just pass me the damn sandwich.”

Sumire huffs out a laugh and starts rummaging through the bag (Does he want an egg sandwich? Teriyaki? This is more stressful than she thought it would be) when he makes a noise of interest. “Is that a new sweater?”

“Huh? Oh, sort of.” She decides on the teriyaki, and he takes it from her hand. “I found it in the back of my closet the other day. I’m surprised you noticed.”

He shrugs. “Of course I would.”

Sumire blinks, but before she can ask what he meant, he’s already taking a bite.

She chews her onigiri, relishing in the flavor. She forgot how good these taste.

—

There’s a lot of things she’s been noticing about Akechi lately.

Once you get him to start talking, he won’t stop. He has an opinion on everything—from school (“A waste of my time, but I would never be a high school dropout”), to the police force (“Incompetent idiots”), and convenience stores (“Convenience, indeed. I’m a supporter of their existence.”)

He hates getting cold, so he has an alarming three layers under his coat. It makes her wonder how he’s even able to move with all the fabric he’s hauling around. It’s sort of cute, in a sea otter way. (He didn’t believe her when she told him that they have the thickest fur in the world, producing a forty minute debate. It was brutal.)

Akechi hates wasting food, so they have to eat all of the snacks that they buy for the day. It’s not easy to impress Akechi Goro by any means necessary, but the way his eyes bugged out of his head when he watched her swallow an entire onigiri whole is probably one of the funniest moments in her life. On the other hand, Akechi barely eats. He can’t stomach anything more than a sandwich and half a bottle of hot lemonade. She’s pretty sure she can eat three times that much without breaking a sweat.

At one point, she made him laugh. She remembers the way his eyebrows raised in disbelief, the way his hand flew to cover his mouth, but there was no muffling the snort that escaped through his fingers, a complete absence of his usual poise. Or the way his shoulders shook and his eyes were glowing with mirth, his laughter quiet compared to his normal speech, but it captivated her all the same. She remembers laughing with him, even though she couldn’t remember what she even said. That’s fine—she doesn’t really care about that part anyway.

He’s still rude, he’s still snarky, and he’ll still find a way to make sure he ends up on top. But she sees more than that, the layers hidden underneath.

Akechi is incredibly kind, as long as you can pick up on it. He’d never give out compliments, but he picked up on her favorite drink right away. He’s annoyingly smart and clever. He’s resilient, he’s proud (more proud than anyone she’s ever met), and he’s, without a doubt, her best friend.

He's also observant.

He scoots over when she’s shivering without saying a word. He asks her how her test went even when she forgot she told him about it. He knows what jokes make her laugh the hardest and which ones make her smack his arm. He can tell when she’s feeling distant, quietly opting for silence to give her space.

This doesn’t surprise her.

After all, it only makes sense that he sees her just as much as she sees him.

—

“Do you like the rain, Goro?”

“Not really. It slows down the city, makes everyone take cover and cram under roofs and random nooks and crannies. It’s nothing but annoying, really. I used to hate it.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“I’ve come to appreciate it.”

A long beat passes.

“I think I know what you mean.”

A begrudging smile. A swooping feeling in her stomach. “I knew you would.”

—

Akechi reminds her of autumn.

Maybe it’s his hair, the shade reminding her of the leaves that fall to the ground when they snap from their branches. Or it’s possible it might be his green scarf that’s the same color as damp grass after light rainfall. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.

But it isn’t the chill that reminds her of him—at least, not anymore. He’s too much like the ginger tea he gets her, too much like the warm shoulder that she’s grown used to having. He isn’t like the outpour of rain that flows down from the roof either. He isn’t slippery, he isn’t incalculable. He’s a constant, he’s the one thing she knows she has, one that won’t just wash away once the clouds clear up.

The truth is she doesn’t know why Akechi reminds her of autumn. All she knows is that for some reason, when he asks her what her favorite season is, only one comes to mind.

—

“Taste it.”

“Ugh, no thank you. I told you I never liked that.”

It’s storming, probably.

“Then why did you buy it for me if you think it tastes like trash?”

“Because unlike some people, I care about the well being of others.”

She can tell that the raindrops were hitting much harder than it usually did. The splash is bigger with each drop that falls from the deep-gray sky, creating dozens of other, tinier splashes—a domino effect, a never-ending cycle.

“You’re foul, Sumire.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that to me?”

Thick tree branches shook and shuddered under the onslaught of the torrent, quivering and swaying. A curtain of water flow is coming down from the roof of their gazebo. Like a protective sheen that makes them invisible from everything else.

“I’m not mean, I just don’t like to lie to save someone’s feeling from being hurt. That’s an issue that they have to take care of.”

“That’s really nice of you. I’m still not drinking it.”

She’s not too sure if it’s storming though, because all she notices is the boy in front of her—the way he’s pushing his bottle of hot lemonade into her hand and speaking loud enough that the rain ceases to exist.

“A single sip.”

“No,” she bats away the ever-inching hand reaching towards hers. “I’m happy with my tea.”

“Yes, that I got you. My judgement is good, so drink it.”

“Why are you so bad at listening?”

“Why are you so bad at taking directions?” he mocks, shifting towards her. She shifts away. Sumire’s keeping herself an inch apart, though she doesn’t know why.

“Goodness, you’re something of a headache, aren't you?”

“What did you say?”

“I said that you’re a pleasure to be around!” She’s physically incapable of keeping the smile off her face at this point. “If it really means so much to you, fine. I’ll take a sip.”

“Finally!”

Triumphant, though she has no reason why, he offers the drink. Sumire stares at it with a frown. “Why do you care so much?”

“I already told you—it’s only fair that you drink it after you practically force it on me.”

“I did not force it on you.”

“Yes, I perfectly recall you lacking the capability of minding your own business—”

“Hey!”

“And I’m not saying I mind it anymore, but that’s when you really started irritating me—”

“You are being so unfair,” she pulls a face at him. “I wasn’t doing it to irritate you, and you know that. I did it because…” It clicks, and Sumire feels her eyes widen. “You!”

“What?” he asks, bewildered.

“Don’t try and act dumb, Goro.” She snatches the bottle from his hand, inspecting the sloshing liquid inside. “It’s interesting how you’re still trying to lie to me even if you know you won’t get away with it.”

When did they start leaning into each other like this? When did they stop taking the edge of the bench, shifting so deep into the middle that they can’t even lean on the handle anymore? When did they start talking like they’ve known each other for years, jumping off of each other’s banter like it’s nothing?

“Stop being difficult, and get to the point.”

“You’re making me drink this because you know it’s good for my health, even if I think it tastes like bleach.”

Akechi crosses his arms. “And what if I am?” he challenges her, his eyes twinkling with defiance.

“Then I’d say you should’ve been straightforward from the start.” Unscrewing the bottle, she finishes it all in one mouthful. A grimace twists her features. “It tastes like sewer water.”

“What kind of sewer water are you drinking?” he asks, incredulous.

“That’s no concern of yours.”

“Hmph. Whatever’s in it is probably the reason why you’re like this, Sumire.”

“Excuse me, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sumire. Sumire. She’s heard her own name thousands of times, relearned it in dozens of different ways, found herself time and again, but she feels like she’s never heard the right way to say it until now. She wonders if he’d make fun of her if she asks him to say it again. It would be a price she's willing to pay if it means hearing it roll off of his tongue one more time.

“It means that I don’t think anyone else could be as strange as you.”

“You’re one to talk. Goro, please listen to me. You are, and I’m not exaggerating here, the absolute most unusual person in the world.”

“You can’t say that unless you��ve spoken to everyone in the world.”

“That is such a you thing to say.”

When did she get to the point where she can say that and mean it? She should’ve kept track of it. Day X: Sumire gets to know Akechi better than she did yesterday. Tomorrow? More of the same, hopefully.

Instead of responding, he bumps her shoulder hard enough that she almost topples over. “Hey!”

“It’s not my fault,” he sniffs. “Perhaps if you were to wear six inch heels, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

When did she get to the point where she never wants to leave such an old, abandoned gazebo?

“I mean in this in the kindest way possible, but are you out of your mind?”

“You know you shouldn’t be asking me that question.”

When did she stop seeing a gazebo whenever she came here?”

“I know, I know.”

Akechi glances at her. “I know you do.”

When did she start seeing only him?

A lull passes through them, and from the distance, thunder rumbles. She pays it no mind.

Sumire yawns, the rain making her sleep. His shoulder is only inches away, looking irresistibly soft. She straightens up, instead. Lack of sleep can be pretty dangerous.

They haven’t exchanged any words for a few minutes now. Sumire’s never felt the urge to break the silence with Akechi, but this is different. It’s not out of fear of making things uncomfortable, but it’s more like she wants to keep talking to him. She wants to see how he’ll react to what she does, or what she says. To see him furrow his brows, or roll his eyes. To have him complain about the world but praise the veiled corners of it. She wants to hear his voice.

She racks her brain for something to say—it would be too obvious if she brings up the arguments again, right?—when she becomes aware that it wasn’t between them at all. Not completely, at least, because Akechi was humming.

The tone isn’t one she recognizes, but her heart swells all the same. At the very least, that’s one thing she has over him: he’s a pretty bad singer. It’s off-tune and he misses every third beat. It can only ever be endearing to her.

Her eyes wander around, taking in the park for the upteenth time but feeling like she isn’t taking in anything at all—she’s too busy committing the hum to memory.

The foot of their gazebo was almost entirely surrounded by a few inches of muddy water, and it’s almost mesmerizing to see the large puddle react to being disturbed by rain drops. She lets her eyesight trail to the splintering beams that support the roof and cover their heads, and she almost wonders if there’s ever been anyone like them who sat on this bench. It would be impossible to tell.

And then, tucked into the aging floorboards, something makes her squint. After a moment, she realizes what it is.

Her heart stops.

Akechi pauses in his humming. “What?”

Sumire opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Her eyes are glued to it in a hazy, half-lidded state. The kind where you just can’t seem to pull your attention from it, no matter how hard you try.

“Did you see a squirrel somewhere?” he huffs. “What’s gotten into you?”

Her fingertips tingle. She feels her lungs beginning to burn. Taking a breath, the burn goes away.

“...Sumire?”

“Goro,” she mutters. “When…?”

Akechi glances, and he must see something because he immediately turns towards her. “What is it?”

“When was the last time,” she takes a shaky breath. And then another. When she speaks, it feels like she’s loud enough that the entirety of Japan can hear her.

“When was the last time that either of us let out even a petal?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Their eyes lock onto each other. Sumire stares at him, and he stares at her. Brown and red. Both filled with disbelief.

Akechi breaks the silence, standing to saunter over the edge of the railing.

Gripping the edge hard enough that she can imagine his tendons stretching taut, he coughs. Nothing comes out. He does it again—still nothing. Then he tries coughing, forcing himself to retch, squeezes his torso with the tips of his fingers and tries to shift any part of his lungs for something to happen.

But nothing does.

Slowly, he turns around. His expression is unreadable.

“Did you do this?” he asks, voice trembling. “Did you do this to me?”

“Huh?” It’s like she can barely hear him, like there’s a glass wall between them that nullifies his words until they’re nothing but goop by the time it reaches her.

He gestures wildly at himself, eyes wide and crazed and something she doesn’t recognize. “You. Did you do this to me? Did you fucking do this to me?”

The rain was loud, then grew louder still. “Did I do what?” she quietly says. “You’re not being clear—”

Akechi takes a step towards her, teeth bared. “Don’t shit with me right now, you know full well what I’m talking about.”

“Then stop dancing around it and ask me the question.” She needs him to say it. If he says it, maybe her world will stop spinning for just one second. After a second, she recognizes the odd expression, so strange and foreign on him that it was hard to recognize: fear.

Even the wind takes a break from its howl to hear his words.

“Are we in love?”

Sumire studies him, studies the person she’s come to fall in love with. “Are you asking if I planned this?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

She can pinpoint it. The moment Akechi snaps. “I don’t know, Sumire. I don’t fucking know, okay? First, I’m alone, and that’s fine, that’s fine and goddamn dandy, because what can I do about it? Then I mess up, commit a couple of atrocities to make sure that I stay alone, and you know what happens instead?” he lets out a laugh, so loud and unhinged that it almost makes her flinch. “I fall in love with him, because of course I do, because of course I latch onto the first person I meet who didn’t treat me like shit. Then I’m alone again, and good fucking riddance because I can’t stand anyone else around me. And I was fine. I was good. I was alright, and then you come out of who the hell knows where and—and—”

Akechi tips his head backwards, shoulders sagging. “And before I knew what was happening, I’d let you take anything from me. Anything.”

Absently, she realized she’d been crying. When had they gotten here? Slowly, she wipes away the stream of tears that have cooled on her cheeks, only for it to be replaced by a fresh one.

With wobbling knees, Sumire stands, and takes a deep breath.

“I need to go,” they say in unison.

They blink. And Akechi huffs out a laugh, but the sound comes out hollow. Fake.

Sumire smiles with him, but it doesn't come out right. "I need time,” she says, even though she feels her heart break when she does.

"So do I," he mutters, before his eyes flash. "But—"

"But not too long," she finishes. "I know. It's just—"

"Stop." Akechi cuts in. "Don't try. It's fine, you don't need to understand right now. I don't either. Just…” he hesitates, and it looks like his heart is breaking alongside hers. “Just be back here when you do."

Sumire opens her mouth, and the words are there, at the tip of her tongue. The words her body understood before her mind was able to catch up, a sentence so true that she never stopped to consider it's possibility. She can say it, and it would be much faster, much easier than this. She wouldn't need to go.

"I'll see you in a bit," she whispers instead.

Turning around, Sumire opens her umbrella, and walks away. She doesn't know if he's left, or if he's watching her go. She doesn't check.

The rain continues to pour down, drop by drop, falling from each cloud like it's inevitable that anything else were to occur.

—

The ground is littered with orange and brown leaves, a gentle breezy picking them up and taking them somewhere they’ve never seen before. It’s sunny, but for some reason, she can hear the sound of rain.

True to her word, she doesn’t see the gazebo the next day.

—

Or the day after that.

Sumire considers calling, before realizing that she doesn’t even have his number. That wasn’t something she considered, before all of this.

—

She considers buying a drink from the convenience store, and immediately dismisses the idea.

Instead of taking a left to the muddy path, she keeps going.

—

It takes her four days.

Four days before she can muster up the courage to see the bench, to see the gazebo. Four days of imagining this scenario, of seeing it from every angle, from every possible outcome. In every scene, she knows Akechi won’t be there. At least, not yet. And that’s fine—more than fine. He’s been in this hell longer than she can imagine, and that’s not something you can just walk away from.

She’ll sit on the bench everyday if she has to. He’ll show up eventually. She’s done this before. They’ve done this before, in what feels like a lifetime ago.

Rounding the corner, she stops walking.

Akechi’s leaning against the far support beam of the gazebo, just under the roof so that he stays dry. He looks ethereal like this, still except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. His eyes flicker to her when he hears her footsteps.

“Making me wait, Sumire?” he says, ever arrogant. It does something to her pulse.

“That depends,” she replies, though her pulse is so quick that it's distracting. “When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

“Hasn’t been long, then.”

“Long enough, I’d like to think.”

She lets out a laugh, mostly to release some of the flutters she’s harboring in her stomach. (It feels so different from the clogging in her lungs and the suffocation in her throat.) “Still so demanding, Goro. I’d say our timing was on point for this one.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile only gets wider. She can’t help but think he looks so good when he smiles. “I can’t help but agree.”

“Can—” she hesitates, and then steels herself. “Can I be clear? With you?”

“You don’t even need to ask.”

Sumire needs to say it. This isn’t something she can just hope he understands, not something someone can say for her. It’s the reason why she needed time, time to unjumble the words in her head and resting in her heart.

She swallows. Does she look as wretched as she feels? Can he feel her heart race a mile a minute?

“I followed you here because I was scared of being alone. Because I couldn’t stand to listen to silence anymore, or the white noise that everyone gives off. I was scared to live my entire life having to hide, of having nobody that understands what’s happening to me or what I’m feeling. That all changed recently.”

Sumire tucks a strand of hair back, letting her gaze fall down. “It’s because you were there, Goro. You let me stay with you, you let me be with you. You let me be seen. Now I’m not scared to be alone. Now I’m just scared of losing you.” She looks up, feeling unmovable with the strength of her words and the truth behind them. “And if you’re not ready for anything, that’s okay. I’ll still be here. I wanted you to know that, no matter what happens, I'm here.”

By the time she finished, her voice had fallen to a whisper. Nerves overtake her moment of bravery, though it does nothing to quell the lightness in her shoulders and stomach. It feels impossibly good to say it out loud, to put her love, her feelings, her thoughts, her everything into words for him to hear.

A beat passes between them, so heavy that it feels solid.

“Hey,” he quietly says. “Come closer.”

She blinks, before doing as she’s told. When she comes under the roof with him, he raises his far hand—gripped between his thumb and index finger holds a single bright dandelion paired with a soft pink cyclamen.

“I’m in love with you, Yoshizawa Sumire.”

He speaks simply and to the point; he doesn't feel the need to coat his words at this moment.

Her eyes widen, but he isn't finished. “Being alone was my plan. Dying alone was my plan. To rot here, to live my days here. I’ve come to accept it. I had already decided that this was my future. But, if it’s okay with you…"

Akechi Goro does not get nervous, nor does he feel the need to emote strongly if it isn't necessary. Yet right now, he shuffles his feet, and the fondness in his gaze threatens to overwhelm her. “I’d like for you to be my future, instead.”

He says it in a breath, as if eager to get it out, or terrified to keep holding it in. She can't tell—she's too busy trying to comprehend despite the sheer ringing in her ears. But even if she were to lose her hearing in that moment, or lose her sight as he spoke, she still would have understood the meaning in his words. The impact of it pierced her heart ruthlessly in a way she'd never forget for as long as she'll live.

A sharp intake of breath and three strides was all it took for Sumire to throw her arms around Akechi’s shoulders. He stumbles back, surprised. “What—”

“I love you,” she cuts in, unable to wait any longer. He stiffens. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Akechi Goro.”

Slowly, gently, he wraps his arms around her waist, and squeezes back just as tight. “I know that.”

“Good.” She’s so close to him that she can hear his breathing, his intake of breath—rhythmic, stable, and healthy. “You better.”

“But…”

She waits for him to finish. “Yes?” she says, when he doesn't continue.

Sumire feels him shift, uncomfortable. “But can you say it again?” he asks, not quite shy, but small, almost. Like if he said it too loudly, he might get in trouble.

Pauses, she arches back, confident that he would never drop her. “Are you sure?”

“Confident.”

Grinning, she says, voice clear and deliberate and tinged with defiance:

“I am so in love with you, Akechi Goro.”

He throws his head back and laughs, delighted, and she can’t help but laugh with him. In his arms, she is warm. She’s so, so warm.

It only makes sense that it all leads to this. It only makes sense that they fall in love with each other, in the midst of a gazebo that’s falling apart and an area of the park that everyone’s forgotten about.

It only makes sense that they have each other.

—

The two of them bypass the line (Akechi with a smug expression and Sumire with an apologetic one) to enter the busy restaurant. A rush of steam comes at them, mouthwatering broth and the scent of spice wafts in from all angles—a staple of hot pot dishes. Waiters and servers bustle around, hustling to every seated customer. They make no move to call attention to themselves—waiting isn't a hassle.

“You like it?” she asks. Her stomach grumbles and prays he can't hear it. “I thought it would be a pretty good first date idea.”

He sniffs. “It passes.”

“It more than passes! This is an A to me, and it should be an A+ to you.”

“It passes,” he repeats, conveniently looking away when she starts frowning at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I approve wholeheartedly."

“Good,” she puffs out her chest. “I was really looking forward to this.”

“Were you?”

“Absolutely. I mean, this is the first time that we’re not eating outside in a public area.”

His lips turn downwards. “While I can agree, I’ve grown fairly attached at our bench, as feeble as it is.”

Our bench.

“Oh, that reminds me." Sumire unbuttons her jacket, pulling out a book from the pouch inside. “I’m ready for the next one.”

Akechi glances at it, surprised. “Already?”

“It was a good book, but it’s sad.”

“Only in the beginning,” he argues. “It needed to be slightly depressing, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, if that’s how you see it.” She’s about to pass him the book when she remembers something. Flipping to the last page, she pulls her bookmark. “Oops! Almost forgot. Can't lose this.”

“Oh.”

“You like it?” she twirls it between her fingers, the pressed cyclamens and dandelions pairing spinning together, intertwined. “I love it. It's almost like you're reading along with me.”

She relishes in the way his eyes widen before flickering away. “I’ll give you the next one tomorrow.”

“Hurray!” she exclaims, sneakily moving her hand so she can hold his. But just before she can go in for the kill, he pulls away.

Akechi removes his gloves, shoves them into his pocket, before twining his hand with hers. “You don’t have to use stealth strategies in order to win my affection, you know.”

“I know,” Sumire says, swinging their hands back and forth. “I was just seeing if I could get away with it.”

“You know you’re not very sly.”

She shrugs. “I guess I’ll just have to keep practicing, right?”

The host finally greets them at the door, apologizing profusely and ushering them further into the restaurant.

Tokyo is a busy place.

It’s constantly jam-packed with excited tourists and impatient suits and laughing teenagers. There’s lights, there’s cars, and there isn’t a lot of patience for those who can’t keep up. Eyes dart around, taking in the people, the atmosphere. It doesn’t matter how many times someone’s been there—there’s always something new to see. There’s always something new to miss.

There are spots, however. Spots that go under the radar of the hustle and bustle, of the city life so ingrained into the concrete and roads. They go undetected, and people can live their entire lives in Tokyo without knowing that these spots ever existed. With how fast life moves, these spots are respites; they act like small pocket holes of air for whoever wants it, or for whoever needs it.

As they’re being led to their table, she feels him tighten his hold on her hand. Her heart leaps.

This restaurant is a different spot. It's loud, crowded, and filled with people who don't look past their own bubble. But in the end, the restaurant isn't her spot. Their gazebo wasn't her spot, either.

She glances at Akechi, and when he catches her eye, he tilts a brow up, curious. Unable to hold back, she smiles, wide enough for her cheeks to hurt.

Sumire finally found a spot of her own.

[concubuck]

Dinner Date (and Dessert) - chat log 8/28

Alastor a.k.a. Buck (hi there) has a date night with Alastor a.k.a. King (@akillingspreeinwhite).

It turns out that when you hook up a concubus with the ruler of hell, what you get is the sexual equivalent of a perpetual motion machine. They simply do not run out of stamina. Truly horrifying to behold.

King

👑  Good evening, my dear! Would you happen to have tomorrow night free for that promised dinner?

Buck

Completely free! Shall I pencil you in? I hope if I give you an address you can find your way to the right universe?

King

👑  Yes, of course! It's a simple thing for me. Shall I arrive around say 7 o'clock?

Buck

7 o'clock is perfect! I'll arrange a room. I hope you don't mind a hotel room; I'm afraid I don't have a dining space that's fit for a guest.

King

👑  That works just fine for me, dear! Send me the room number when you have it.

Buck

I'll see you soon, your majesty~

King

👑  Indeed you shall!

Buck

He got a room in a hotel he’d frequented several times before, one of those stainless-steel-and-glass-and-exposed-brick places that thought “industrial” and “high-end” belonged in the same sentence as each other. Usually he visited it for the jacuzzi and the floor-to-ceiling windows—but for this trip, it had a well-stocked kitchenette, too.

And he could hardly focus on cooking. He kept catching himself with one hand on the spatula and the other trying to sneak under his apron. Just a few hours, and he’d be meeting *himself* face-to-face, for the first time—be stared at by his own eyes, heard by his own ears, close enough to touch, to claw, to bite—

But dinner first. Technically, neither of them had promised more than dinner yet. He was at least going to get that right.

And by 7 o’clock, distractions aside, he’d managed to finish dinner, clean up, set up the radio in the kitchen, and find a spot to perch by the door while he anxiously awaited his date.

King

The radio crackled to life, playing a quick instrumental tune, and a portal sprang open-- and through stepped King. His lips stretched in a grin, he dusted off the lapels of his white and red tuxedo.

"Good evening! Buck, I presume?" He asked, eyes glinting as he moved closer. His antlers, large as they were, knocked a bit against the ceiling and he laughed.

"Oh, pardon me! Let's adjust the antennae, shall we?" His antlers shrank down to a more manageable size-- still large, but far less tall.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear!" He inclined his head.

Buck

He started at the sound—never in his life had somebody else wrested control of a radio away from him. He only had long enough to think *well, of course,* before the portal opened to admit his alternate.

And there he *was,* in all his glory. It was his own face, his own smile, even his own skin as it used to look before he gave up his humanity—and it was all aimed at him. He was very glad he'd added some tight underwear to the harness underneath his clothing, lest it be a little *too* obvious just how thrilling it was to meet himself.

Other than that, though, next to the king's tuxedo, he felt painfully underdressed. Just a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and slim pants—the compromise his sense of shame had reached with his eagerness. He wished his shame had won a little more ground.

"Ah—*yes.* The one and only—so to speak." He laughed somewhat breathlessly, heart hammering in his chest. Collect yourself, idiot. "I should downsize too. There's probably a rule against having a hat bigger than the king's, isn't there?" And anyway, the large antlered heart looming over his head felt a little *too* obvious. It was only with difficulty that he managed to reign the majority of it in.

"The pleasure's all mine, sire—do you prefer 'sire'? Tell me how formal I should be, I'm new to cross-universe etiquette."

King

"Just King will do, my dear-- or if you'd rather a pet name, that's fine by me, as well. No need to stand on formality when it's just us two, hm?" He winked, and held his hand forward-- an offer for Buck to place his own and perhaps receive a kiss to his knuckles.

"The pleasure is mine, of course, to be your guest this night."

Buck

Buck's grin stretched wider. "We'll have to see what pet name seems fitting, won't we?" He winked back.

Hands! Damn, he should have worn gloves—he was *very* glad he hadn't worn gloves—he immediately placed his hand in King's. "It's not every day I entertain royalty. I hope I can offer you a meal fit for a king." Is he talking about dinner or is that a euphemism? (It's both.)

King

King placed a soft, warm kiss on Buck's knuckles, his thumb rubbing over them after. He didn't release the other's hand, instead drawing him up.

"Well then, no point in dallying about, let's eat, shall we? I'm positively _starved_."

Buck

Just ignore the fact that at the kiss a good 20% of the antler mass he'd just whisked away was now back—aaand there went another 30%.

"You and me both! *Utterly ravenous*." That would be a perfect opportunity to go for King's mouth; but instead he restrained himself to pressing his thigh to King's as he tipped his head toward a dining table past the kitchenette. (He'd opted for stupidly decadent—filet mignon and lobster.) "It took all my willpower not to start without you."

King

"Oh, look at that! Simply scrumptious!" King cooed, eyes on the meal set on the table-- though they flickered to Buck with a flash of a wry smirk.

King released Buck's hand to sweep behind the other's chair, pulling it out for him like a proper gentleman.

"I'm sure! It must've took an immense amount of will to get through that ordeal!" He chuckled.

Buck

Odd how the room felt a little bit dimmer when King was looking away from Buck.

"You have no idea." As he took his seat, he broke eye contact with King for the first time since he'd entered the room—but turned to catch his gaze again as soon as he could. "I had to make a special surface trip just for the lobster. It will be well worth it."

King

King pushed the seat back into place, before taking his own with another sweeping, elegant movement. He smiled at Buck, gently and genially taking his knife and fork in hand.

"It certainly will, I haven't had lobster in days," He said, smirking as he cut a nice bite of steak. He let out a low moan when the meat hit his tongue.

"Mm, simply divine."

Buck

*Days,* he says. It was a good thing Buck had gone for decadent, imagine if he'd dared to stop short.

"Oh, that *is* good. Not to pat my own back, but!" He laughed. "*Next* time, you ought to tell me what you'd like to taste. I'll see what I can do."

King

"My tastes can be quite varied and wild, I'll have you know." He laughed, taking a bite of the lobster. "I'm sure whatever you dish up would be well to my liking."

He winked again.

Buck

At this point it was like he'd never tried to retract his antlers at all. "Good, then we're well-matched! We'll have to *experiment* sometime."

(Did he have control over the hotel radio again? Time to turn some background music on. Not having music was weird.)

King

"That sounds simply wonderful, I whole-heartedly agree! We certainly should-- but since this is our first....dinner, then perhaps sticking to the basics for now." He took another bite.

Buck

"Oh, absolutely. One must master the basics before trying the more exotic recipes, mustn't one? But I'm sure you'll find tonight's *entire* menu equally enjoyable."

King

"I'm sure that I shall." He chuckled again, eating more of the steak and lobster. "Might I inquire plainly what you expect for the night? Just so we may be clear."

Buck

A blink. Okay, straightforward it was, then. Made things easier—even if it did make his face hotter. "Plainly, I'd appreciate at least one orgasm by the end of the night, and I'm *extremely* flexible on the specifics of how we get there. I don't like blindfolds, gags are hit or miss, and I prefer the lights on."

King

King smiled widely as he took another bite. "I guarantee more than one tonight. And it would be a shame for either of us to not see one another during. I never much like blindfolds either. Do you have a safe word? I know we're not going to do anything too wild tonight, but just for reference. Mine is Defeat."

Buck

"*Well!* I'll do my best to return the favor in kind." Don't mind him if he just. Stretches his legs. And maybe brushes an ankle against King's. "'Defeat' is fine, I tend to go with whatever my partner's using. Either that or just 'stop.' I doubt we'll get up to anything tonight that would make that ambiguous." He also doubted he'd want to say it.

King

King returned the touch to his ankle with one back, smirking as he took another bite. And lo and behold, his plate was empty. He _was_ rather large, a normal portion was small to him.

"Looks like I'm finished," He said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and grinning. "Are you?"

Buck

"Nearly!" He devoured the last few bites viciously—he hadn't been kidding about being ravenous. And to hell with etiquette, he was more eager to move on to dessert than to keep eating at a mannerly pace.

King

Once Buck was finished scarfing down the last bits of food, King rose and moved to pull his chair back out, and once more offered his hand to the other. Always the gentleman, it seemed.

"Shall be adjourn to the bed, then?" He purred.

Buck

Buck took King's hand—and his elbow. That's his now. Now that dinner wasn't distracting them, his eyes were once again firmly glued to King's face. "*Let's.*" He tipped his head toward the bedroom door.

King

King grinned wider, leading the way into the bedroom. With a light kick, he shut the door behind them, his free hand covering Buck's hand.

"I do want you to know that at first, I really did think you were only offering me dinner and nothing more, when you initially offered."

Buck

"I was afraid you might think that!" He laughed and pressed closer to King's side, his long tail loosely wrapping around King's leg. "I thought I'd have to be *extra* suggestive at the dinner table. But you worked it out before you got here."

(The radio's teleported itself into the bedroom. Don't worry about it.)

King

"That I did, and I was more than happy to oblige." King sat on the bed, tugging Buck into his lap. His hand cupped Buck's cheek, his gloved thumb playing with his bottom lip.

"Why don't you help me undress?" He cooed.

Buck

He gladly let himself be tugged down, straddling King's lap. Guess who's rock hard? (Spoilers: it's the same guy who's been rock hard this whole time.) "What an *honor.*" He slid his hands eagerly over King, briefly feeling his chest before getting to work undoing buttons. He let King play with his lip a moment, nibbling at the tip of his thumb, then tugged at King's glove with his teeth.

King

"Try the middle finger, it works better for that," he said, placing said digit's tip on the other's lips. His other hand reached to flick a button open on Buck's shirt, and he peeked beneath with a soft groan.

"You're wearing the harness....good," He purred.

Buck

"I'll try whatever you offer me." He kissed King's fingertip before tugging again on the glove, this time with more success.

His grin widened, impish around the glove still dangling from between his teeth. "I *thought* you might like that. It seemed like your colors." It felt like the exposed skin of his chest was blazing beneath King's gaze. If he hadn't already been neon red, he would be now.

King

"Seeing the back of it got me ever so curious about what the front looked like." He grinned, taking the glove with his now bare hand to toss aside. He swapped his hands, placing the tip of his other middle finger into those jaws-- and the warmth of his skin pressed against Buck's as his hand made contact with his chest.

"They are-- white and gold on red. Quite a lovely combination, no?"

Buck

"Mm-*hmm.*" He was already so revved up that just the touch to his chest was enough to make his eyelids flutter. He sucked on King's finger for a moment before dispatching the glove the same way as the first.

"So, what do you think?" He undid another button, exposing a bit more skin and harness. "Is the front as pretty as the back?"

King

"So far, yes. But I'll reserve full judgement for when I get to see it all." He chuckled, and his head tilted as he finally leaned in to kiss Buck. He nipped at the other's lower lip, the hand not on Buck's chest wrapping around the back of his head.

Buck

Oh, those *fangs.* His fangs. Was this what other people felt, kissing Buck? (Probably not—he suspected King had a hell of a lot more than three years' experience.) He kissed back, teeth teasing at King's lips, offering his tongue to be nipped at as well.

King

King delighted in the sensation of flesh between his teeth, of teasing it and playing with it, pricking it gently with those sharp tips. He accepted the tongue, so very gently scraping his teeth across it, as then his tongue joined the dance as well.

Buck

Buck hummed into the kiss—but there was only so long he could handle kissing before the lack of eye contact got to him. He rolled his hips against King's, pressing their groins together, and reached under King's coat to untuck his shirt—a reminder of what else they had on their plate.

King

King gave a small gasp at the roll of hips, and his hands moved to do away with the buttons on his vest. The shirt buttons followed, though there was still his undershirt to contend with.

King shrugged out of the jacket, and began to undo his bowtie. "I fear I wore far too many layers for these activities, didn't I?" He laughed breathlessly.

Buck

Buck smirked wryly. "And here I'd worried I'd underdressed." He helped King to undress where he could, and when he couldn't help, continued unbuttoning his own clothing. "But if you're *desperate,* we only really need you pants down, don't we?"

King

"I'd rather have it all off, this is bespoke after all." He winked and laughed.

Saying that, he tossed his jacket, shirt, and vest onto the floor. Seemed he didn't truly care about his suit all that much.

Buck

"Oh, then by all means! I'd hate for them to get dirty. I don't mind for my *own* clothes, but..." He tugged King's undershirt up over his chest, then paused, eyeing King's antlers. Nope, undershirt wasn't going over those unless King magicked it.

King

"Ah, yes, let me take care of that--" With a slight flourish, he simply yanked on the undershirt-- and it came away cleanly and in one piece.

"Ta-da~" He said, with a smarmy look on his face. He pushed Buck's shirt off completely, hooking fingers into the harness. "So pretty for me."

Buck

A laugh and a disembodied round of applause for King's magic trick. "Handy!"

He arched his back for King, leaning back with his hands on King's knees, showing off how the harness fit him and tugging back against King's fingers, drinking in the attention. "And all for your pleasure."

King

"Mm, what a lovely thing. All for me, how lucky I am." He grinned, one finger staying hooked in, while the other let go to gently drag his claws against skin.

With quick flicks of his feet, he removed his shoes, the socks just disappearing to and reappearing on the piled of clothes. "I think we're finally almost undressed," He said, laughing.

Buck

"*Nearly.*" He sat up and hooked his thumbs into King's waistband pointedly. "Should I... keep the harness on?" As if he didn't know.

King

"Yes, it's quite lovely. And it makes it far easier to manhandle you." He laughed. "Plus, I want to see how your equipment looks all caught up in it."

Buck

“Oh, *would* you!” He got up on his knees, took King’s hands, and guided them up to his own waist band. (… With maybe a quick detour over his ass.) “It’s quite a sight, if I say so myself! Perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”

King

"I would indeed like that very much!" King smirked, unbuttoning the pants before sliding them down Buck's hips. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Buck

Beneath his pants, he had on a tight black thong, just barely enough to keep himself restrained and certainly not leaving anything to the imagination. He wasn’t patient enough to wait for King to tug it off; he slid it down himself. He was almost painfully erect, tip already smeared with precum, framed prettily by the harness, a gold ring like the one around his tail in his photo wrapped around the shaft. Buck’s breath stilled as he awaited King’s reaction.

King

There was a short intake of breath at the sight, and a noise rumbled through him, somewhere between a purr and the rumble of thunder far off.

"Oh, that is _beautiful_," He said, quickly flipping them around to be able to lay Buck on the bed. Once situated, he nearly ripped the other's pants free and tossed them aside.

Buck

He could feel himself twitch at the sound of that sharp inhale, and he was sure he could feel that rumble like a vibration. He let King lay him down and finish undressing him, then eagerly spread his legs—here he was for King’s consumption, all of him on display, and King’s gaze felt like electricity across every inch of exposed flesh.

“I hope you’re going to let me see, too?” He stretched out a hand again toward King’s waist and his pants, not quite touching—waiting for permission.

King

King smiled, licking his lips. He moved closer, letting Buck's hands collide with his hips.

"Have at it, then. I'm all yours, darling." He winked.

Buck

“You honor me.” He pulled himself up into a sitting position by his grip on King’s waistband, then eagerly slid it down.

King

Pants and underwear both went down, and thus sprang forth his erection. Proportionally average on a demon of King's size meant it was quite large in size, standing at full attention. Not quite as eager looking as Buck's own, but certainly excited. King smirked.

Buck

To Buck, “excited” was the most important part. His smile didn’t change but a glint of hunger entered his eyes as he leaned closer, face inches from the tip. “A scepter fit for a king—hah! But you’ve probably heard that line before.” He placed his hands lightly on King’s thighs, close enough his fingers could brush the base of King’s cock if he wanted.

King

King laughed at the joke. "I have! But it still gets me every time." He chuckled a little more, and then smiled wider.

"I can see your eager for a taste. Go ahead, indulge yourself, darling."

Buck

He didn’t even reply; he just wrapped his hands around the base of King’s cock and leaned in, ran the flat of his tongue along the bottom side, and then slid the tip into his mouth. All with his eyes rolled up to keep watching King’s face.

King

King's breath caught, and he stared down at Buck, keeping his eyes on him. His hands wrapped around the other's antlers, grinning as he held tight.

Buck

Oh, to look up at his own face and know what a sight those eyes were seeing! If Buck dared try to stroke himself now, he was sure he’d immediately go off like a geyser.

He stilled when King’s hands gripped his antlers. “Do you want to take the reins?” (Don’t worry about where that voice is coming from when Buck’s mouth is clearly occupied. It’s probably normal.)

King

"No, do please continue, I was just getting a grip so as not to fall over in sheer pleasure." He winked, licking his lips again.

"I want to see what you can do."

Buck

“Well! If you insist…” Only the Radio Demon could smile so effortlessly with a jumbo dick stretching his jaw open.

And then he got to work, one hand gripping King’s ass to hold him close, head jerking back and forth to let King slide effortlessly into his throat, so ferociously and greedily that it wouldn’t seem far-fetched if he bit it off to keep it for himself.

King

King didn't try to keep himself quiet-- he wouldn't have been able to anyways, considering he was used to being as loud as he wanted-- and let his moans and groans fill the air. Mutterings of things like 'Good boy', and 'So pretty sucking my dick' intermixed with the noises. His hips moved with the motions of Buck, eagerly seeking more of that wet heat.

Buck

Every noise and note of praise was a hot jolt that zinged straight to his groin. He finally let himself wrap a hand around his own cock—it didn’t matter if he came this soon, he was pretty sure he didn’t *have* a refractory period anymore—and let his own orgasmic moaning contribute to the stimulation he was lavishing on King’s dick.

King

King let out a long moan of his own, tossing his head back as he lost himself to the sensation.

"Fuck, yes! Yes!" He groaned, hips snapping forward and back eagerly into the waiting mouth and throat. Another long moan signaled his own orgasm, and he spilled himself down Buck's throat.

Buck

Although that load was getting swallowed no matter what Buck did, he still tried to swallow it even harder, throat working around King’s dick. He jerked himself off faster, desperately trying to hasten a second orgasm—but it hovered just out of reach. That didn’t do anything to stop him from moaning just as zealously through King’s orgasm.

King

King panted softly, slowly pulling back to remove himself from Buck's mouth. He wasn't soft, no, far from it. His cock still stood proud, ready for more, and he grinned.

"What a lovely first course, I think I'm ready for the second," he said, lowering himself down further. He moved Buck's hand from his erection and swiped his tongue over the head, before taking the full thing in his mouth in one go. He started to bob his head quickly, his tongue sliding along the underside of his cock.

Buck

“Oh? What’s next on the menu—*ahh.*” It was half a noise of realization and half a moan. He let himself flop back down onto the mattress, tugging a pillow under his head to prop himself up just enough to watch King work. “Oh—*OH* that’s good, *oh YES.*” His own groans were easily as loud as King’s had been, although his dirty talk—what he could breathlessly get out between unfiltered moan—was less conventional. “You know, *most* people—“ he had to stop with a whine as he bucked up into King’s mouth, “—they’d prefer sixty-nining. But this—lets you watch and be watched. I—*hahh*—prefer that. Don’t you?”

King

"I certainly do!" King's voice was clear and crisp-- just as Buck's had been before.

"I'd much rather put on a show and what sort of show would it be without someone to watch+- or listen?" His head bobbed faster, and he chuckled, sending the vibrations through Buck's cock.

Buck

"*Oh,* so *true.*" His eyes narrowed to glowing yellow slits, Cheshire catlike. "I s-simply *need* an audience..." He was quickly losing his ability to carry on a conversation, or do much of anything but moan and gasp. He slung his leg over King's shoulder and gave himself up to pure noise and static. He was so close he could *taste* it. (Maybe he was tasting King.)

King

King could certainly taste it, and he hummed as his head bobbed, trying to give that little bit of extra stimulation to send him over the edge. His claws dug into his thighs, holding them down as he continued his work.

Buck

This time, when he spilled over, it was with a wail so loud it would be echoing through radio sets for miles around and a string of wild babble. There was something intoxicating about screaming his own first name as he came.

King

King swallowed down his load, sitting up as he licked his lips. He leaned down to kiss Buck, laughing against his lips.

"Third course?" He asked.

Buck

He shoved his tongue in King's mouth, getting a thorough taste of his own seed before he flopped back down. "*Please!*"

King

"Excellent. Do you have lube? We'll need to stretch you for me, I think," he said, smirking.

Buck

"We only need to if you're *into* that part of the process." Very few physical limits on a succubus. "But sure—I like this stuff, it's tingly." A snap and a bottle appeared in his hand.

King

"Oh? Good to know. I haven't fucked a succubus before," he said, laughing. He took the bottle and lubed himself up. King spread Buck's legs and lined up.

"Ready?"

Buck

"Really!" Now, that was a fascinating detail he'd have to ask about later. Much later.

He lifted his hips to give King a better angle. "Very!"

King

King placed his hand on Buck's hip, and pushed inside. He groaned, almost laughing at the feeling of the other around him. "You feel remarkable-- so welcoming, it's almost like you put out the mat for me!" He laughed more.

Buck

He immediately moaned, rocking against King, angling his hips to ensure King hit him *just* right. "Well—" he laughed shakily, "—you *are* my guest, and I do pride myself on being hospitable!"

King

King grunted as he pulled back and then thrust, laughing even as he did. "I think I'm the most welcome guest in Hell, then!" He continued to thrust faster.

Buck

"That's what I like to h—*ahh!*—hear!"

He met the thrusts as best he could, bucking his hips against King's, fists curled in the sheets hard enough to leave tears with his claws. Wasn't that a sight, King looking down at him while pounding him into the mattress. He hoped he was a sight worth looking at, but that was hard to control when each thrust had him seeing stars.

King

King found the perfect rhythm, the balance of speed and power that he knew would please, and stuck to it. His hand held to Buck's hip and he grinned wider, laughing in pleasure as he pounded the other.

"What a thrill, literally fucking myself!"

Buck

Buck laughed as well, a sharp, almost maniacal sound. "God, *isn't* it! Like watching a mirror but better!" A mirror couldn't watch you back.

He let out a particularly loud moan, "Oh, *f##k...* Like that, *just* like that—"

King

King panted as his hips snapped forward and back. His hand reached, and clasped around Buck's throat-- rough, but just holding-- and he turned his head aside to get to the smooth flesh of his shoulder. He buried his teeth deep, groaning into the bite and the taste of blood.

Buck

His hands flew to King's hand—not pulling it off but holding it in place—and he gasped sharply. The bite alone was almost enough to tip him over. He was desperate to return it, but—no, not with a hand around his throat. That said *stay down, stay put.*

"I'm gonna..." He laced one hand through King's hair, gasping, "Let me see your face when I come."

King

King's teeth released and he pulled back, mouth dripping blood. He stared down at Buck, panting as he continued to thrust, letting the other's blood drip onto his face and chest. His smile was a gruesome thing, but no doubt beautiful in it's own right.

Buck

Not much more gruesome than Buck's manic smile and wild eyes as his own blood dripped down on him. He stared at King's face as long as he could until another orgasm forced his eyes to roll back, his fingers digging into King's hand and clenching in his hair.

King

King grunted and panted, fucking Buck through his orgasm, and then leaning down to kiss him. He spread the blood over the other's lips, fucking him harder than before, grunting with each thrust.

"Fuck..." He muttered.

Buck

He was too dazzled and oversensitive to think straight. He kissed back automatically, biting at the taste of blood, groaning into the kiss with each thrust.

King

King panted harder, edging himself closer with every thrust, until he let out a cry of his own and came. His hand spasmed around Buck's neck, closing hard, but briefly. He stayed inside as he poured himself out, and the laid on top of the other demon, a laugh in his lips.

Buck

His voice went silent as King squeezed, nothing but the hiss of dead air; but only for a couple of seconds. And then he was loudly panting, staring up at the ceiling as he fought to catch his breath.

"*Well.*" Pant, pant. "And who says missionary is *boring*?"

King

"Only those who don't do it right." King's answer came quickly, even as he panted too. He pushed himself up and grinned wider.

"So, I suppose I did well? Up to your snuff and all that? Am I to get a standing ovation?" He winked.

Buck

"That would require standing, so no. I'm going to bask in the moment, and you're going to get a supine ovation." He applauded. A hundred invisible listeners applauded along. Some of them whistled.

King

King laughed, finally pulling out to flop onto the bed next to Buck. He let out a sigh of contentment and tucked his arm beneath his head.

"Thank you, thank you very much," He said. "I think _you_ deserve a supine ovation as well." He flicked his free hand, and even more raucous applause started, filling the room.

Buck

He kind of wanted to climb on and put it back in.

Oh, the thought of such a large audience watching... He flushed deeply enough that it managed to peek through his bright red skin, beaming broadly. "You're *too* kind!"

King

"I think we both performed splendidly! Very deserving of applause." The sound of clapping faded away, and King reached to wrap his arm around Buck and pull him close against his side.

Buck

Oh. *Cuddles.* Cuddles always took him by surprise. He could manage, though. He'd had practice. He magicked on his underwear (he was still half hard, and that sort of thing tended to ruin cuddles) and settled in against King's side, playing his part, arm draped across his waist.

King

King, meanwhile, summoned up a fresh rolled cigarette, and a holder for it. The end lit with a spark, and the took in a long draw. He blew out the smoke, and hummed.

"Do you smoke? I hope you don't mine me doing so, I tend to like one after a good fuck. Cliche it may be, but it does feel nice."

Buck

He gestured permissively. "Go ahead. I don't smoke myself, always thought it might damage my voice." He shifted himself up onto one elbow. "I wouldn't mind a drink, though. You?"

King

"Oh, certainly, I'd love one." He smiled, leaning to kiss Buck's cheek. "Whatever your having will work for me."

Buck

Affection, now. That would take some getting used to.

He summoned up a couple of glasses and offered one to King. "Vodka cranberry?" Cranberry juice was good to drink after sex. He'd heard that somewhere.

King

"Mm, delicious." He took another puff of his cigarette, pushing himself further into a sitting position as he took the glass. He sipped and smiled.

"I have a question: did you ever have sex before you became a succubus? Or did you simply have the hankering after?"

Buck

"Never had it before then. Never had the slightest interest. And then all of the sudden I had the interest thrust upon me." He let out a long sigh—but the person to complain to about one's sex drive probably isn't the person one just had sex with, so he let it go at that. "What about you? Did you always have a taste for it or did you pick it up somewhere?"

King

"I had my curiosities in life, but never more than a passing interest. I had libido, but no one with whom I wanted to pursue it. I had other things to think of. And then I died and found a partner whom I did things because he wanted. Then more happened and that was no longer an option, but my appetites had grown-- so now I indulge them with whom I will. No one that I've found sparks the interest itself, it's more...." He paused, taking a drag of his cigarette as he thought.

"It's more like I have the urge to simply do it, and so I find someone who is also willing-- and all the better if they're beautiful, no? Beautiful and amiable and _flexible_." He laughed. "I take my pleasures where I will, with whom I will. I have some favorites, but mostly, I'm not picky."

Buck

A nod in agreement. Good, they were on the same page on that. "I can't say I've ever looked at anyone and wanted *them.* What I've wanted is *their* want for me. I'm sure some people would call me selfish, but, well, I have to give them what they want to get what I want, isn't that reciprocity?" He smiled wanly. "Whoever stoked your appetite did you a grave disservice. Now *that's* selfish."

King

"I wanted him, and it was such a strange feeling. In the end, though, it wasn't to be-- my ambition outweighed the feelings we shared." He took another puff, and then another drink.

"Now I have a favorite concubine of sorts-- he even uses it in his marketing, and believe me, it does him wonders. 'The King's Favorite!' splashed everywhere can really rake in the money."

Buck

"Huh." He considered that as he took a thoughtful sip, then shook his head. "No, never wanted anyone like that." And thank goodness.

"Hah! I bet it *would.* Who is it, anyone I ought to know? Probably not, if his preferred clientele is royalty, but."

King

"You might still! He seems to be famous in most universes I've seen. It's Angel Dust." He chuckled and shrugged.

Buck

"Oh, the—what's he—a movie star? The fuzzy pink one? I've seen him on posters." He tried to recall if he'd seen any of Angel Dust's pornos as he took another sip. "I suppose he'd be an expert, being a professional and all."

King

"Porn star, yes! Though, in my universe he does porn audio broadcasts and stage performances, as well as regular sex work." He chuckled. "He's very good."

Buck

"I believe you. I never watched much porn, though." A shrug. "It doesn't do anything for me. Just frustrates me."

Stage performances, though—he liked the sound of that. He'd have to look into whether that happened around here. Well—strip clubs, he supposed, but he was imagining a larger audience...

King

"Oh, I don't much buy into the video porn. Some of the audio can be nice to listen to-- but that may just be because I like his voice." He chuckled. "He's a wonder to see on the stage, though, I recommend that. Quite the showman!"

Buck

"Hmm. Does he sing?" Sexual stage shows didn't do much for him either. He already knew what the coy stripper was hiding under their panties. 95% of the time there were only, like, two options.

King

"Sometimes! He dances, and does these acrobatics, it's very lovely. Maybe I could take you to see one of his performances sometimes-- mind, I'm talking about my own universe's variation, I'm not sure if the others do the same."

Buck

"Oh... sure, if he's got a particularly remarkable show anytime soon." He wasn't totally sold yet, but friends should meet their friends' concubines, probably.

King

"I'll have to see what all he's doing soon, I'll let you know." King smiled, finishing off his drink and his cigarette. "You might like him, he's very good at what he does."

Buck

"Well, if I can't trust my own taste, whose *can* I trust?" He finished his own drink and poofed the glasses away.

King

"So, I'd like to know: have I satisfied your hunger, or do you want more?" He said, smirking as he tilted his head and banished the rest of his cigarette.

Buck

He gave King an incredulous—and delighted—look. "Are you *offering* more?"

King

King snorted, and waved his hand. "Of course! I'm not just a....one, two, three and done kind of man! I'm yours for as long as you can stand me, darling." He winked.

Buck

His eyes brightened with glee. "Remind me to put your number at the front of my little black book." He snapped his fingers and his underwear vanished again.

King

"Oh, be sure to," He purred, grabbing Buck's wrist to tug him close. "You on top this time. Ride me." He ordered.

Buck

"Yes sir, with *pleasure.*" He rolled over on top of King to straddle him.

They were going to be at this a while.

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama (Part 2)

See previous post for warnings and general info.

Credit for the lamia species (or at least the specific species, not lamia in general) goes to @vex-bittys

Keith decides to give this new girl a chance and introduces another lamia! DnD shall come whether Hux likes it or not. Coral boy is jealous.

< PREV | NEXT >

           Keith and Hux had just been talking DnD with each other when a girl with short, wavy blonde hair walked into the back. Keith’s flickering tongue caught the taste of sweat, dirt, and a variety of plants. Real plants, not like the fake trees, though he could identify some of the smells as the foliage they could keep here. His soul leaped in his chest, he could feel it immediately, they were meant to be.

           … According to who? Or what? Some bred in biological imperitive? It was just there to make him easier to adopt, right? But it felt real…

           No.

           He wasn’t going to leave Hux and the others behind. The woman didn’t seem to have even noticed anyways, so maybe he was just imagining it. Heck, he probably was. Then again, if anything was going to seduce him – something he felt was pretty impossible, he’d just never been interested – it’d probably be someone bringing their own books and homemade fucking cookies. Yes please. They smelled like chocolate and peanut butter – questionably healthy at best, but he’d take it!

           … He should probably answer the question, huh?

           “Yeah, nice to meet ya. Name’s Keith, I’m the DM,” Keith said, slithering down to her level.

           “So, you think you have what it takes to play with the big boys?” Hux said. “Heh. How’d you even find out about that?”

           “There was a sign,” the woman said. “My friends are busy with college stuff right now – I’m on break, doing work in a greenhouse and all – but my evenings are totally free. Kinda have to leave early though, have to be up before the sun. I love the job, but that part sucks.”

           Keith chuckled, “I feel you there.” He’d stay snuggled in a nesting mound half the day if you let him. What? Blankets are soft, and it’s not like he had to leave to read things. Beds and blankets make reading better if anything. Prime coziness.

           “I think you should look somewhere else,” Hux said. “We go until, like, two in the morning sometimes.”

           Before Keith could stop himself, he found himself saying, “Eh, we can end early for a little while. Or hey, maybe have a side campaign with you or something.”

           “What?!” Hux said, standing high as he could on his tail with his arms thrown out. “Dude! We’re halfway through Pipsqueak’s character arc or whatever! Can’t just push him aside…”

Pipsqueak was Trousle’s (a bitty Papython) mousefolk bard; he’d been looking for pieces of the Worldsong, a song that, once played, was supposed to give the musician power over all things. Pipsqueak had managed to get half of it and was facing down with Caterwaul, the Tabaxi bard, who had the other half. It was looking like Pipsqueak was questioning whether the song should be played by any. However it played out was going to be awesome, though it might or might not be the end of the campaign depending on how Trousle played it.

           Since when did Hux care so much about that though? He wasn’t exactly a roleplayer type…

           “I mean, if you guys are full or in the middle of something, I can just… not?” the woman said.

           “Nah, don’t mind Hux. It’s alright, uh… What’s your name?”

           “Oh! My bad. Call me Alex. You said it’s, uh… Key?”

           “Keith,” Hux said, unimpressed.

           “I am the actual worst at names,” Alex said, sighing.

           “Eh, it happens. But I bet we can work something out.”

           “We don’t need to work things out,” Hux grumbled, curling into a ball on the floor and sulking, hiding his skeleton half under a ball of black and red scales.

           Keith rolled his eyes. Hux never liked change and didn’t seem too fond of people. He was tolerant of the people running the place, but no one else. That said, it was no excuse to be a dick. “Hux, be nice. Sorry about him, he’ll warm up to ya. Why don’t I take you to meet the others? We can work something out. Not like we’re going anywhere…” And that was fine by him. Home was here with his own batch of misfits. “Get Liam, will ya Hux?”

           “Ugh, why do I have to?”

           “ ‘Cause you can never find Trousle.”

           “Why don’t I go looking for Oozy?”

           “I’ll bet you a week’s snacks that Oozy’s in his hammock.”

           Hux huffed and crossed his arms with an adorable blush on his face, flustered. He was, apparently, not willing to take that bet. As much as Keith liked to stay curled up all cozy, he had nothing on Oozy. It wouldn’t be the first time they had to carry him in the hammock to DnD night. Hecking cornies.

           “Thought so,” Keith said, chuckling. “I’ll go get Nikolai. Hope you don’t mind kiddos, Lex.”

           “Is Nikolai a kid?”

           “Nope,” Keith said. “Follow me.” He slithered past the jungle of fake plants, real plants, and various toys and hiding holes that made up the dim room he liked to call the “Chilling Room.” It was a little cool in here, but mostly he called it that ‘cause this area tended to be more quiet, lacking the toys and people-chairs that littered the rest of the back. Sometimes you just need a place to be a Snake and stalk your friends for a little while, or somewhere to just hide in a hole and listen to the same song until it was playing through your dreams in utter bliss. That second one seemed unique to him.

           “… I’m not gonna remember any of these names,” Alex whispered to herself. She stopped to pull some dead foliage from some of the plants, fingers working fast with practice. For a moment she paused then put a leaf in her mouth. “Stevia leaves the weirdest after taste. Not bad though. Also, why do you have stevia?”

           “Is that what that is? I think the Honeybos like to chew on it.”

           “Is that why they’re Honeybos? ‘Cause they’re full of sweet?”

           “I mean, maybe! Never bitten into one.”

           “Not even licked one?” Pause. “That’s a weird thing to ask, huh?”

           “I mean, I smell with that y’know. But some of them do smell kinda sweet.” He had the oddest urge to nibble a snake now. Logically he knew they were not just little slithering sweets, but a little voice in the back of his head whispered but what if they do taste like honey buns?

           Keith really hoped that voice wasn’t Alex’s. That’s just a weird thing to think. Even weirder if you aren’t a snake. “Do you stick a lot of random stuff in your mouth?”

           Alex kinda went quiet, staring at the floor, and Keith tried to stifle a laugh, stopping in his tracks to look at her behind him. “Oh my god. You have, haven’t you? What’s the weirdest thing?”

           “Probably either crickets, an agar plate – one of those things they grow bacteria on – or my salt lamp.”

           “Can confirm, those are salty.”

           “You too?”

           “Nope. But Trousle dared Liam to once and he swallowed the whole thing. We had to pull it out by the chord.”

           “That… That’s both amazing and dangerous.”

           Keith nodded, “Yep. Never dare a Mamba to do something unless you want to face the consequences.” Looking around, he brought out his phone and showed some pictures of Liam – a full sized Mamba – with light streaming from his mouth and tail as Hux and Nikolai (a King) tried desperately to pull the lamp out. Trousle was on the table, shouting encouragement but too small to actually help. “That’s why we’re not allowed to have salt lamps anymore.”

           Alex was snorting as she laughed, hand over her mouth and eyes crinkled behind glasses. “Oh my goodness. Reminds me of when I caught a baby rabbit and found out they can scream. I almost dropped it.”

           “Oh no!”

           “It tried to escape! But I caught it midair. And then it just stared at me, judging. Relatedly, gardening gloves have multiple uses. One of them is bunny catching. They have claws and will kick the shit out of you.”

           He’s tempted to mention that’s why he just eats them, but gets the feeling that won’t go over well. Since when does he care? He’s a snake, she should know this. It’s natural.

           “You like cute? C’mon,” Keith said. It was a short slither to the very back room. Alex stopped, staring at the “Staff Only” sign, but Keith gently tugged her through, “It’s fine.” The door opened up to a humid room with multiple little lamps scattered over eggs and newborns. The nursery. They were greeted with a variety of hisses and chirps from little baby snakes and a much louder hiss from Nikolai. The King’s hood flared upon seeing the stranger and he stood as tall as he could, clutching three squirming baby Pygmy (full sized, but still so small) to his chest protectively.

           Alex froze up, face going blank as she stared at the sight of King’s hood and fangs, venom dripping from them. Maybe Keith should’ve warned Nikolai first, but better late than never?

           “Alex, this is Nikolai. The most broody bastard you’ll ever meet. Nikolai, Alex. She wants to play DnD. And probably to also hold some kiddos, but who am I to judge?”

           Nikolai narrowed his eyes, somehow keeping hold of the Pygmy as all three attempted to go in different directions, unfazed by one of them trying to put his hands in Nikolai’s eyesockets. “Keith. We need to talk.”

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 21 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Deceptions

Part 21! Only 3 more chapters left, my darlings! I hope you enjoy! This is also being uploaded to Wattpad as well, if any of you are interested. Love you all, darlings!

Warnings - violence (not too bad though), and some angst near the end

♡♡♡

...and smashed it onto the ground.

Robotnik’s mouth dropped open in horror as he watched his creation sink into the ground, singeing the blades of grass beneath Y/n’s tennis shoes until they were no longer recognizable. It even began to eat away at the shards of glass next to it, and Y/n winced.

That could have been her insides.

“YES!” Sonic cried out in victory just before he got punched in the face by Metal Sonic. But at least his girlfriend - or ex girlfriend - was still alive.

“What the hell have you done?!” Robotnik screeched like a banshee, rising up out his seat and gasping in horror at his specialty made poison that was supposed to melt Y/n’s insides and was now instead melting the ground beneath their feet.

You see, the lion’s actual plan had been to deceive Y/n into thinking that he would let her friends go if she came with him. But being the actual VERY HAIRY buttho- I mean intelligent scientist that he is, his actual plan was never to leave her friends alone. He would take Y/n, kill her, then destroy her friends as well so that he has a bunch of weird alien animals to conduct his experiments on. But then he got an amazing idea (not really).

What if he made Y/n kill herself in front of her friends?

God, it was genius! 

Seeing their friend kill herself would definitely put a damper on their strength, as the loss of their friend would be very debilitating. But they forgot one thing.

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Y/n snarled, her fur beginning to tingle as her powers began to churn. She cracked a smirk. The zebra was back. “I think it’s time that we switch roles, don’t you think?” 

Robotnik furrowed his brows, confused as to what she meant. She took this small window of opportunity, reeled her fist back, and punched him straight in the face.

“I’m not a zebra anymore! I’m a lion, you motherfucker!” 

The impact was enough to send the man falling straight out of his drone and he collapsed onto the ground, a pathetic jumble of limbs and mustache hairs. He let out a groan in pain which soon turned into a snarl, and he quickly noticed that his controller was no longer in his grasp. This was a little bit of an issue because that controller was the one that he could use to power Metal Sonic, supercharge him, and shut him down. While he was distracted, Y/n quickly dove into the drone and snatched up the controller, staring down at the three buttons that blinked before her.

They were all the same color.

Damnit.

“You little bitch, WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?!” Two strong gloved hands wrapped around Y/n’s furry ankles and ripped her out of the drone. She let out a shrill scream as she went airborne momentarily, and thinking quick, she let out a low hum. Her body instantly responded, holding her up into the air so she was in a sort of trance. Shadow let out a low growl from the ground, his ruby irises flaming with heartbroken rage. 

“Because you’re a creep!” She shouted down at him, and slammed her fist onto the first button on the controller. She glanced down at Metal Sonic, who was in the process of trying to kill the actual Sonic, only to find that it didn’t change anything. She grunted and pushed the one on the bottom. 

The robot froze. 

Sonic rolled on the ground and stood up, preparing to run off again as he watched the robot in confusion. The red eyes on the bot grew bold for a moment, and then… turned off. That was the off button. Y/n breathed a sigh of relief and lowered herself onto the ground. Unfortunately, her victory was short lived as Shadow tackled her to the burnt grass.

The icy blue hedgehog let out a shriek as she went collapsing onto the ground from his weight.

“Get off of me, you pervy walrus!” Y/n snarled, immediately trying to shove the dark hedgehog off of her. But he wasn’t ready to let go that easily. He latched his strong arms around her waist, and sent them tumbling onto the ground like a bad gymnastics performance. While they were distracted, Knuckles took this opportunity to slash the binds around Spirit and Tails, freeing them. The duo quickly bounded up, armed and ready to fight, only to find that the bot was already shut off. Sonic quickly sped over to the struggling hedgehogs only to narrowly miss a burning hot laser. He froze, gaze shooting up to meet that of a very pissed off Robotnik.

“What the hell, man?” Sonic snarled, throwing his hands out to the sides in exasperation. Robotnik simply shrugged, hitting some buttons on his gloves and turning the attention of his egg bots towards him, Knuckles, Spirit, and even Tails.

“Are you forgetting that I am being portrayed as the bad guy here? It’s my job to make your life a living hell.” Robotnik rolled his eyes like he was explaining this to a five year old. Sonic had lost most of his sense of humor upon witnessing the love of his life almost kill herself, and he frankly didn’t have much time to even throw in a good natured joke when he was trying to take out a bunch of robots while his friends did the same.

Meanwhile, Y/n had other problems.

Shadow kept trying to yank the remote control out of her hands, presumably to turn back on Metal Sonic so that he could kill them. But she wasn’t having it. 

“Quit groping me!” She snarled between panted breaths as she countered all of his punches and smacks, clutching the remote tightly between her right fingers. She was in a very unfortunate position with him practically straddling her on the ground, eyes full of fire and rage as he tried to get the upper hand. But just as she had managed to land a punch to his face, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye that could prove useful.

Shadow’s gun.

♡♡♡

Spirit’s baseball bat collided with three of Robotnik’s bots, knocking them into the oak tree beside her almost instantaneously. She let out an exhale, but her eyes were already on high alert, searching for any more signs of danger around her. She had lost track of where Y/n had gone after witnessing her almost kill herself, and she was frankly feeling rather light headed. But that wasn’t important right now. The important thing was to get them all out of here safe.

And alive. 

Tails, who was never really one for being on the front line in battle, timidly hid behind her legs while he watched with hearts in his eyes as she took out a bunch of the egg bots. The determination and the fire in her eyes… the way her hair swung about in her ponytail with her motions… She was beautiful. 

Knuckles sidled up next to them after having taken out a bunch of the other bots as well, followed shortly after by the Blue Blur. Sonic let out a frustrated groan as another hoard of bots began to carreen their way towards them, lasers at the ready. Robotnik stood under the cover of his old drone not too far away from them, and it was then that Sonic hatched a plan.

“Guys, if we can get those controller gloves away from him, then maybe we can stop the drones long enough to get Y/n.” Amazing how even in the most dire of circumstances, Sonic’s first instinct was to find a way to make it to his beloved girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend.

Gotta stop doing that.

Spirit and Knuckles immediately stepped up in front of Sonic and Tails, already beginning the process of punching and smashing the next line of robots. Even Tails was able to prevent some of the bots from getting too close by whacking them with his tails and with random sticks he was able to pick up on the ground. Using their amazing fighting skills as his que, Sonic sped through the darkness the trees gave him before coming to a stop just behind Robotnik. Thankfully, the man had been captivated by the fight as well, his eyes trained steadily on the fight as one hand controlled the bots and the other stroked his unwashed mustache hairs.

Disgusting, Sonic thought bitterly. He would make sure that this man would never harm another person again. 

He slowly took two more steps forward, and the second Robotnik’s glove was within his view, Sonic ripped it off of his hand and slammed it against the ground with a rock. Robotnik let out a choked scream in surprise, cursing himself for being off his game and blaming it on Y/n’s hate filled punch, he turned only to hear the static sound of his precious controller being destroyed.

“NO!” He screeched like a little girl, not knowing how to defend himself in the absence of his beautiful bots. He dove towards the little blue hedgehog, seeming to have forgotten that Sonic was… well, Sonic. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” 

“I just saved my friends,” Sonic answered boldly, stomping on the controller again for good measure. When he watched the drones drop dead by Spirit, Tails, and Knuckles, he knew for sure that they were toast. Now just one more thing left to do.

Sonic slowly reached into his right glove and pulled out a tiny little object. It was small enough for Robotnik to not quite figure out just what it was, and it was only when Sonic held it up towards the burning flames in the trees that Robotnik understood.

A golden ring.

Robotnik, for the first time in his life, was speechless. 

He could only watch as Sonic closed his eyes momentarily, then threw the ring onto the ground before him. Instantly, the ring began to glow and spin before opening up a portal to some other world. Robotnik recognized it as the Mushroom Planet at first, but this one looked a lot darker. More nutrient-starved. It would be impossible for Robotnik to try and get any supplies for his drones on a planet like that. Even when he was on the Mushroom Planet, at least he was able to find some watering holes and mushrooms that didn’t seem poisonous. 

This was it.

“It’s all over isn’t it?” Robotnik asked dazily. Sonic wore a very rare expression. No ounce of mercy could be seen in his searing emerald orbs as he stared down at the pathetic man who used to be a mad scientist. He wasn’t planning on pushing Robotnik in. Robotnik was going to crawl in himself.

Like the pitiful excuse of a human that he was.

Robotnik glanced around at the burning vegetation and destroyed babies he had once cradled in his arms. The little beings that came out of his egg sack (see what I did there?) They were all destroyed. He had gone through so much trouble to come up with this beautiful plan, this beautiful robot, only to have it taken down within seconds by a couple of angry hedgehogs?

Maybe he should find another hobby.

Maybe Agent Stone had been right all those times he had tried to steer him down another path. Maybe he could find some other outlet for his personal problems that didn’t have to do with forcing his wants on other people and hurting them if they didn’t go with it straight away. Threatening people and making them try to kill themselves just because they were weak. Maybe if he had been a better person, then none of this would have happened. Maybe then he and Agent Stone could have been happy. Maybe then he could have been friends with the hedgehogs. Even though they were painfully annoying.

This was it. Robotnik was never a lion, was he? No. He had pretended to be a lion, always putting his bark before his bite. Always trying to use his smarts and his pride to trump character. He thought he was better than everyone else. And then he got punched in the face by a girl.

The true zebra surrendered. 

“Well played, Sonic,” Robotnik had to commend the alien creature. Sonic’s eyes widened momentarily at the first comment he had ever received from this man. “Well played.” 

And with that, Robotnik drug himself forward and fell through the portal.

♡♡♡

Shadow’s gun glinted in the dancing flames of the trees from his tool belt. 

Y/n stared up into his angry red irises and immediately went limp. Shadow freezes momentarily, confused by her sudden actions. Why had she stopped fighting him? He enjoyed it when she fought him, it brought up some weird emotion of adrenaline and plea-

“Dumbass.” 

Wait, what? Shadow felt a strange lightness on his waist. He glanced down only to hear the sound of a gun cocking. 

“Shit.” He cursed, looking up to be met with a very shocking sight.

There Y/n lay beneath him, her teeth gritting as tears streamed down her glowing e/c orbs. Her hands were trembling as she held the gun to his head, trying her very hardest to fight against the debilitation that he put her under. He made her want to die just by looking at her, let alone touching her. And now she had to make him stop. He glanced to the side by her head and felt a draining sensation through his chest when he saw what used to be the remote controller for Metal Sonic. She must have found a way to smash it at some point.

But then he realized something. 

“You’re a fool,” He scoffed, shaking his head. “A beautiful fool.” 

Y/n didn’t respond, but the shift in her expression let him know that she heard him perfectly. 

Wait. 

No, she thought. This wouldn’t work. He isn’t afraid of the gun. He isn’t afraid of it because he knows that even if she wanted to, she might not be able to pull the trigger. No, his fear wasn’t of having a gun put to his chest. But what he was afraid of...

Y/n slowly turned the gun around in her hands until it was pressed up against her forehead. 

She placed her finger over the trigger, and Shadow’s facade crumbled almost instantly. He wrapped his hands around hers, trying desperately to yank it away from her forehead. They were no longer physically fighting one another as he sat on top of her stomach, pinning her to the ground. No. The fight was now over the gun Y/n was pressing to her head. But even when Shadow tugged at it with all his might, it didn’t budge an inch. The glowing in Y/n’s eyes explained why. 

But she wasn’t done yet.

“You did this to me.” 

Shadow froze, staring straight into Y/n’s burning e/c eyes as they swirled with a tornado of emotions. Anger, hatred, betrayal, hurt, disgust. 

Sadness.

“You did this to me, Shadow. You made me think that dying would be better than living on this earth. You hurt a perfectly good batch of people, all for what? For money? For something that you didn’t even understand. You hurt me, Shadow.” 

Shadow’s hands fell limp by his sides, and if Y/n didn’t know any better, she could practically see his soul shatter through his eyes. 

“You. Hurt. Me.” 

Shadow instantly began shaking his head, the last bit of denial still trying to claw its way to the surface. 

“N-no, no, n-no, I-I love you, I-”

“You tried to make me kill myself. You. Hurt. Me.” With her final words, Shadow finally broke. Watching all the fire drain from his eyes, Y/n took the opportunity to smash the gun against the side of his head, knocking him out successfully. He slumped onto the ground in an unnatural position and Y/n finally heaved in a shaky breath. She pulled her shaking body up into a sitting position and stared down at the gun in her hands.

A tiny tear drop fell onto the trigger.

She had won.

♡ a.a.