#It would be pretty hard for Lyric too. She's so used to hiding behind masks that it's hard for her to be real even when she's alone.

[teyrnacousland]

I think it's fun that different characters give a different time period for how long Rook was in the Fade Prison. Both because everyone's perception of time is different (and gets weird when you add grief to the mix) and because it means we can headcanon how long it took each specific Rook to get out of there based on how well we think they'd have managed their regrets

[celestetheseaunicorn]

For the music ask game for you (your s/i) and Robin!

🌷 - what's a song off of your playlist that really encapsulates your selfship? what about the song makes you feel that way?

🌸 - what's a song off of your playlist that reminds you of your f/o more than the others? why is that?

🍧 - which song's lyrics/title would be used in the title of a fanfiction the fandom would write about you and your f/o?

Hiii @jokerislandgirl32 !! Thank you for the ask :D!! Although, brace yourself, I think I wrote an essay here lol :D

🌷I feel like the song that really goes with their relationship would be “Something that I Want” by Grave Porter :3

I think this song really fits since it fits their individual journeys and how they work together! :D Since, in their story, when she first joins the teens titans, which is the hero team the show Robin is in centers around, she’s trying to find her footing and maybe a bit naive but she has good intentions and learns to come into her own as time goes on with her on the team and they fall in love on the way 😊.

It really fits Robin too since through the show he’s trying to separate himself from Batman to be his own hero, and he leaves Gotham to grow somewhere else which is jump city where things eventually take place this goes with the lyrics “he’s a man of his own invention” and “he walked out the door” for him leaving Gotham :3.

As for how it works for them together, the chorus “something I want, something I tell myself I need”, is like how they are both trying to find themselves and do something that means something to them but they have to make sure not to fall into the trap of working themselves so much they pull away from their friends since something they both need is love from friends and eachother, as shown by the lyric, “Don’t you see that what you need is standing in front of you…?” but luckily they are both working on that.

“He’s been living in a pure illusion, She’s gonna come to her own conclusion, right when you think you know what to say, someone comes along and shows you a brand new way”

For these lyrics, I represents how Robin tends to take being a hero as a core part of his identity, Skylark likes how much he cares about it but he can do it to a fault sometimes, especially when he isolate himself while investigating a case. But she adapts and makes sure he knows he isn’t alone, and even helps him open up to his team more. She also tends to have a pretty creative way of doing things in general which is where the “someone comes along and shows you a brand new way” comes in!

🌸A song off my playlist that I think reminds me of Robin is “One” from Sleeping at Last and “Elevate” by DJ Khalil since I feel like “One” shows how he wants to do good but is really hard on himself and how that causes him issues sometimes but that he’s learning to loosen up, and I feel like “Elevate” shows how he likes to push himself and takes pride in being a hero and I feel like its the sort of style of song he likes to listen to.

🍧Finally, for the song lyrics used in a fanfic title, definitely from the song “They stay down deep” by Giselle. “And in those ocean eyes of yours, sea monsters swim in cluttered drawers, I’m scared they’ll climb out when you weep, don’t fear my dear they stay down deep” or “I wish those ocean eyes of yours Would see I’m not afraid of flaws I wish those ocean eyes of yours would not hide behind closed doors”. Those hit particularly close to me when listening to the song since Robin has blue “ocean” eyes even though the mask covers them most of the time lol. I feel like these lyrics would highlight how he tends to hide his issues and problems and how Skylark wants him to give her the chance to comfort him and show that she’ll love him, flaws and all. Although, this can also work in reverse too when she feels insecure and trying to hide her issues and negative feelings from him while feeling doubtful or ashamed of herself. Luckily, he’s there for her too and will reassure her, and give her lots of tight hugs too which he knows she loves :D.

Thanks again for the ask!! :D and I hope you enjoy my response!! :D

[swampstew]

What's the Magic Word?

Chapter 14: Testing the Waters

On the fifth day at sea, the pirates came across a deserted island. Docking with plans to restock on supplies and scout around, Rowena left with Killer, Heat, Wire and a quarter of the crew. That morning at breakfast Rowena had stood in front of the crew and apologized for losing control of her magic again. Everyone wasn suprisingly chill about it, some cracked jokes about taking lessons in ass kicking from her, to which she was grateful. She had been nervous that she would be alienated from the crew after the incident, or worse, shunned. Kid had not been present in the mess hall, nor was he on the deck as the pirates departed.

Kid to his credit, was doing his goddamn best to stay out of Rowena’s way. Unable to sleep or eat, he isolated himself to his workshop. At first, he tried to work on some engineering projects but every time he pulled out a blueprint, he would be reminded of the designs he had made with the Witch.

They were really good ideas too he just couldn’t bring himself to work on them; he knew he would need her around in case he needed her help with the concepts and he just couldn’t risk it. So instead, he mashed metal to metal, smelted it down, crushed it with his power, and started the cycle over again. By the time the crew had come back aboard, Kid had gone through half of his scraps.

He took dinner in his room but he hardly touched the plate. He laid in bed; head directed at the vanity he had made her. He turned over, burying his head into a pillow – fuck, it still smells like her. He got up and ripped off the sheets, throwing them in the ofuro tub with soap.

He sulked at his desk, fingers tapping until his eyes laid on his music transponder. He picked the tiny creature up and thought about the song Rowena had first played; he let the foreign lyrics wander in his mind as he silently begged the stupid snail to play the song, because of course he had been too busy staring at her ass to remember the stupid fucking song title. The snail blinked at him but did not play and with an angry snarl, he prepared to smash it on the table.

It’s little eye stalks bulged and seeing its tiny, terrified expression deflated the hothead, instead he felt guilt for it. He’d neglected to feed or care for it until Rowena had reminded him it was a living thing and now he was on the cusp of killing it.

But he’s a murderer, so why can’t he kill a bug?

He put it down shakily and it fled to hide behind a stack of paper. Kid began pacing in his room breathing hard, he began pulling on his hair when he heard a light knocking. He opened it, only a little disappointed at seeing Killer.

The blonde man walked in, a map in his hand, “Is now a good time?”

Kid grunted at him, sitting back at his desk. Spreading the paper down, Killer began talking but Kid wasn’t paying any attention.

“Kid? KID!” Killer slammed a hand down on the map.

The Captain’s eyes snapped into focus, narrowing at his friend. “WHAT?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that we have about three weeks of sailing ahead of us to reach the next inhabited island. Do we want to try and stop anywhere familiar along the way?”

“What for?”

“I don’t know, so you can get out of this fucking cabin?”

“Don’t want to.”

“What is going on with you? Did…Did you and Rowena break up or something?”

Kid glared hatefully at him.

“Oh. I’m sorry Kid. That’s…that’s rough, buddy,” he said weakly.

Kid said nothing.

“Do you want me to leave?”

The redhead shook his head. Killer sighed, pulled out a chair and sat down, taking his mask off.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Kid grunted, “The fuck you mean? She said she wanted space from me, so here I am hiding like a cowardly cunt.”

“You sure? Women sometimes say they want one thing when they really mean another,” Killer suggested.

“She called me another Gecko Moria, I think she’s pretty goddamn serious about the space.”

“Oof,” Killer shook his head, “That seems uncharitable.”

“It makes perfect sense to me. I am who I am. She has her baggage and I’m just a stupid brute who didn’t stop to think for one fucking second,” he gritted his teeth, fingers curling against the table. “I don’t – I’m freaking out Kil, I don’t know what to do.”

Killer leaned back against the chair, “I guess just give her time to figure out her feelings. She apologized to the crew this morning, maybe she’ll apologize to you too? I’m not saying she was right calling you out like that but I think she knows you’re not like that guy. Not by a long shot.”

“We murder and torture people, mate. Pretty sure that puts us and him on equal footing as ‘evil guys,’” Kid shot him a skeptical look, disgusted with himself for using air quotes in conversation.

“Hmmm nah. If she really felt that way, I don’t think she would have slept with you in the first place. And you both fucked…a lot. Very loudly. You on the other hand, should stop moping around. That’s not going to bring her back. I think you should get back to what you normally do, wait for her to make the first move. Go be Captain of the Victoria Punk, you have your dreams to fulfill too.” Killer drummed his fingers on the table.

Kid punched his fist on the table, finally losing his shit, “What’s the point in being King of the Pirates if the woman I want as my Queen hates my fucking guts?!”

Killer’s eyes shot open, blue irises shining underneath bushy bangs. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, “Well, this is quite the development. When did you realize you wanted to wife her up?”

Crinkling his nose, “Between the time I realized she’s the coolest person alive to when she almost drowned.”

The ghost of a smile twitched on Killer’s lips. Speaking softly, “You know, historically kings took whoever they wanted.”

“I'm.Not.Fucking.Doing.That.” Kid snapped through clenched jaws, eyes flashing dangerously as amber irises turned blood orange. “I cannot do that to her.”

“Damn, you’ve got it bad,” Killer whistled at him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this enamored since Vic-” Kid threw his helmet across the room.

“Ok then. I don’t know how else to advise you. Just know that I’m here for you, 100% in whatever you do or happens,” and Killer left the room. Kid slammed his head against the table.

Finding safety in his own room, Killer thumbed his mask softly. “So much for letting her go."

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

It was late at night; the sea was calm and Kid stood at the railing inside the dinosaur’s mouth. They had been at sea for days and not once did he see Rowena. He frowned with arms crossed over his chest. Following Killer’s advice, Kid had gotten his shit together and resumed his duties.

He had hoped that by being out and about he would have at least some face time with the Witch, whether in passing or for meals but she was nowhere to be found. He picked at the chipped paint on his nails, a scowl on his face. He thought about all the things he wanted say to her, things he could have done differently; he didn’t notice when the door to the mouth had opened and closed.

Rowena walked up behind him silently, making herself known by tugging his coat. He whipped his head around, shocked to see her there. “I was just leaving,” he said turning.

“I was hoping to talk to you.”

He gingerly stepped back to the railing, waiting for her to continue. She wrung her hands for a moment before dropping them, tilting her head up she looked him square in the eyes.

“I want to apologize to you. I should not have compared you to Moria – that was unwarranted. I was speaking from a place of hurt and anger. And I want to let you know that I appreciated what you said. I’ve been thinking it about it a lot these last few days. My actions had nothing to do with trying to defy or undermine you, I just wanted to save those children from trauma,” she dropped her gaze to the floor.

Kid cleared his throat, “I know what I did was fucked up and as much as I wish I could turn back time, what’s done is done. I hurt you after I said I wouldn’t, after I agreed to protect you. I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back.”

His face flushed red as he continued, “I want to be the man you turn to and feel safe with; I don’t want to push you away.”

He almost didn’t register when her arms wrapped around him. Her body trembling against his – that snapped him to attention. He closed his arms around her, holding her close. He leaned his head on top of hers. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Rowena pulled back, turning to lean against the rail.

“I like your new tattoo.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. He felt his body freeze when her hand touched his, bringing it to her face. “Your nails are ruined. Do you want me to paint a new coat on?”

Kid half shrugged, then nodded his head.

“Ok, I’ll look to see if I have any polish. Or you can bring yours to my room. Sometime tomorrow?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She nodded too, dropping his hand and resuming her gaze out to the black sea. She lifted her hand and a stream of water lazily whipped around in front of them. Sparkling in the water were thousands of tiny microorganisms that glowed a weird green color. They watched together in silence as she let ribbon after ribbon of water rise and fall, the glow reflecting in their faces. Kid was so entranced that he didn’t see the gentle stream of water beside him until it nailed him in the head.

Through one eye he could see the Witch covering her face, giggling quietly. As the water slid down his face, he gave her a playful grin. She lowered her hand and gave him a small smile in return.

𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧

Kid stood outside of Rowena’s room, a crusty bottle of polish in his hand. She greeted him, leading him to her table she mixed some tonic into his bottle to thin the paint.

“We’re going to be sailing for a few weeks. Could use your help with one of the designs we drafted. I think the desalination tank is a good place to start,” he peeled off the last bit of paint on his nails.

“Yeah that sounds like a good idea. Do you really think we won’t come across any islands in the meantime?”

“I’m sure we will but this is all uncharted territory so we don’t know for sure what we’ll find.”

“Makes sense. Well, whenever we set foot on dry land, I hope they have a bookstore.” She began applying a thin coat to his nails. “Do you still want me training with the crew? I apparently made an impression last time.”

Clearing his throat, “We’re going to go in a different direction, I think. You should probably focus on endurance training, building muscle, and we can go over Haki more in-depth too. You’ve demonstrated a unique ability to harness all three types but you should work on them some more. Don’t know what else I can do for you in witchcraft. How is that going?”

Rowena closed the bottle, letting the paint dry. “I’ve finished my reading materials but I need to put them into practice. I kind of need a place to do it all though, hopefully in peace. Honestly though, I’m kind of stuck. I can read every book, scroll, scrap, and I can attempt them all; but if I had an actual teacher I could probably learn faster, maybe be twice as good. I think I have a lead on such a person but not sure how I can make it work yet.”

Kid raised his eyebrow. Rowena began applying a second coat, not saying anything at first.

“I…made a contract with a guardian so there shouldn’t be any more issue with astral projection, but truthfully I’m not sure searching the planes is a worthwhile venture. The entity I made the pact with had close ties with two legendary witches of my coven. In exchange for being my guardian, my vow is to…um...find a way to release them from the plane. Admittedly, I don’t actually know how to do that. I think all I can do now is ask for guidance and hope that along the way I can get stronger and learn how to fulfil my bargain.”

“Does that mean you’ll be spending more time astral projecting?”

“Hopefully not, I do not like it there. There is a way to contact them but I must search for it. I don’t know how this will end up. I’m hopeful but I’m also nervous. What do you think?”

Kid blew on his fingers, foot bouncing on the floor. ��Just tell me what you need and we’ll get it. So, this guardian, do they have a name?”

“You said you were from the South Blue right?” Kid nodded. “Are you familiar with the legend of Cú Chulainn?” He blinked. “Legendary hero, the Child of Light?”

“I…maybe? I don’t really remember. I can ask Killer.” Rowena nodded, pulling out a bottle of topcoat polish. “A hero teaching you witchcraft…what are the odds?”

“Weird right? I’m not sure what it means, and I did not see that coming during my tarot readings.”

“Tarot, what kind of magic is that, is it like palm reading?”

“It’s a branch of magic called Divination. There are other forms too, but Tarot is by far the easiest and less dramatic way.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, in some practices it can be really easy to accidentally let out demons, become possessed, create poltergeists; it has its downsides.”

“How many branches of magic are there?”

“I don’t really know. But I’m gonna find out. That’s my dream now, to become the most powerful Witch in the world.” She blew on his nails.

“I see. Then I think you should do whatever it takes to become so. But, aren’t you kind of already the most powerful Witch, since you’re....” he paused.

“I don’t know that that’s true. Witches have left the Island of Thorns in the past that may or may not still be out in the world. And even if there aren’t, being the best by technicality is not good enough. As the assumed sole survivor, it’s now my duty to uphold our traditions and customs, and maybe one day pass them down to the next generation. It’s…a really big responsibility. I need to Be the Best that ever was. My entire coven’s existence is now on my shoulders.” She dropped his hand. “All done.”

“Thanks, you did good. I didn’t realize how important this was to you but that makes sense.”

“Kid, why do you want to be King of the Pirates?”

“The glory.”

“That’s it?”

“What else is there? Compared to the righteous greed of the rulers, the criminals of the world seem much more honorable. World Nobles... Slaves... Human auction halls... Against the ‘purity’ of these upper classes, the villains of the world look positively humane in comparison. It's because the world is in the hands of scum like them that it's all screwed to hell. I mean, we're not the nicest of guys, but at least we're honest about it. When scum rules the world, only more scum is born. I’m not going to play by their rules; after I find One Piece, I’ll tear it all down because I can.”

“I didn’t realize you had ambitions after finding the treasure. I thought that was the endgame for you.”

“I’m not going to be an old man when I find it!”

“No not like that. I mean, I was under the impression that you just wanted to be King, and then you would – I don’t know I guess make a base for yourself and live out your life in complete luxury and freedom?”

Kid began laughing, “I’m going to do that too! Don’t you get it? I’m ALWAYS going to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Being King of the Pirates is just a formality. My jolly roger already strikes fear in the heart of sailors, everyone will cower before me when I’m King. No one will ever look down on me again.”

Rowena nodded her head, eyes closed with a smile, “Yeah that sounds like Eustass Kid.”

The Captain stood, stretching, “You can use my cabin to practice your craft. I’ll be around the ship, might come in from time to time but it’s the only real space where you can have your privacy. Plus, your vanity is in there and all.”

“Are you sure? Some things might require me to like mark up your floor and walls.”

He made a face but it was quickly replaced with a smirk, “Just make sure its cleaned whenever you’re done.”

She smiled and gave him a hug, he wrapped his arms around her. He thought for a moment and then kissed the top of her head. He felt her bristle at that and he dropped his arms.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” she whispered.

He nodded, nail digging into his palm, “I’ll let you get back to it. Goodnight Ro’.”

He walked back to his cabin and sat on his stripped bed looking at his hands. Rowena had done a great job: the paint job and the companionship; he winced at himself for the last bit of it. Looking at the nail he dug into his hand, he saw that it was smudged. He scoffed at it, always fucking shit up.

Read on AO3

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ starting prompt: “were you ever going to tell me?”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (S1 YJ Robin) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “take a ride up to Malibu, I just wanna sit and look at you, look at you. what would it matter if your friends knew? who cares what other people say anyway.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes 

both you and Dick walked out of Gotham Academy, laughing at some stupid joke he made as the two of you walked to the nearest coffee shop. the two of you religiously bought coffee and hung out every Thursday after school until it was time to head home.

you and Dick, unknown to each other9, had commitments to the YJ team and usually had to meet the team later in the night and today happened to be one of those days. 

you really weren’t in the mood to go out for a patrol tonight but on Saturday, you had accepted to be Dick’s date to the winter formal Gotham Academy was holding and you had to excuse yourself from patrolling duties for the night. 

you knew Diana would have no issue in you missing for one night but the team on the other hand would probably throw a fit for it. 

whenever there was time to lounge around, you usually hid behind a domino mask and a beanie to cover your hair. your uniform on the other hand was very much like Wally’s. it pulled over your head and covered some of your face and most of your hair so it went unnoticed by everyone. 

you were very similar to Robin in that aspect. the two of you hid your identities extremely well and no one outside of your mentors knew who you truly were. Wonder Woman had especially emphasized that a kid still in school should not reveal their real identity and if you wanted to once you turned 18, you could, but until then, she made you swear to never reveal who you were.

“what has you in such deep thought?” Dick asked, giving you a smile. you shook your head, “nothing. just stuff with school,” you replied. Dick had saw the bruises and cuts on your legs that you tried to hide, “you have more bruises?” he asked. 

“I told you my MMA training went hard last night,” you exclaimed, “I had a partner that was double my size and she nearly wanted to kill me,” you tried to joke. 

you could tell that Dick wasn’t believing what you were saying, “but you shouldn’t be the one to talk! you have a gash running down your arm! don’t think I didn’t notice,” you retaliated. he immediately tried to explain himself, “acrobatics is an intense hobby!” he replied. 

you gave him a look before shoving him playfully onto the grass. Dick pushed you back as the two of you finally arrived to the coffee shop. you put your bag down in the booth before meeting Dick at the line. 

“just be careful! those cuts and bruises look intense,” he said a bit more seriously. you squeezed his arm in agreement, “of course but same goes for you. the gash on your arm looks pretty deep,” you stated, running your finger on the now healing gash. 

he paid for both of your drinks and the two of you made your way to the booth and took out your books. 

you had befriended Dick when he first arrived to Gotham Academy. since he was the adopted son to Bruce Wayne, everyone wanted to befriend the son of the man who ran Gotham with an iron fist. you on the other hand had to befriend him because you were the captain of the Mathlete’s team.

that was the club Dick first wanted to join and although he didn’t know exactly how to join, he saw that you were in his AP Calc BC class and saw the jacket you carried around with the medals you on won on it. he quietly followed you to the auditorium that day and scooped out the team before embarrassingly introducing him and explaining why he wanted to join.

you instantly clicked with him and tried him out for the team for a few days when you realized that he was probably the second smartest on the team. he won a plaque on his first round of tournaments and gained honoree status not long after. 

“god, I feel like Brunner is killing us with the amount of work he’s giving us,” you growled into your textbook, “does he not realize that people have lives and jobs?” you continued to complain. 

Dick shook his head, “not like he cares. he’s just a bitter old man who wants to make us suffer,” he admitted. you laughed, accidentally choking on your coffee by the comment, “it’s true! he knows everyone is excited about the formal so he probably piled on work to make us suffer,” Dick continued. 

you threw him your paper as he quickly dodged it. the two of you worked through the worksheets until you felt your communicator go off. you discreetly looked down and saw that Kaldur was calling everyone to Mount Justice for a new mission. 

“hey Dick, I have to go,” you admitted a bit sadly, “my mom wants me home to babysit my niece and she needs me home in a few minutes.” Dick nodded understandingly, “yeah, Bruce seems like he needs me home too. see you tomorrow?” he asked, “of course!” 

the two of you practically darted in different directions as you ran to the nearest zeta tube location. it was inside of an old building as you quickly discarded your uniform, putting it inside of your bag as you pulled on your other uniform. 

as soon as you arrived to Mount Justice, you saw everyone crowding around the table that Red Tornado was explaining the mission at. you stood next to Kaldur and Connor, flashing them an ‘i’m sorry for being really late’ smile. Kaldur patted your shoulder as the table shut off after the instructions were finished. 

“so, the pairs are, Wally, Artemis and I, Connor and M’Gann, and ( your name ) with Robin,” Kaldur explained, “since both of you know Gotham Academy well, the two of you will be patrolling inside the school while Connor and M’gann gather the information we need from the teacher.” 

you and Robin high-fived, quickly getting on the motorcycles and racing towards the school. you weren’t particularly close with Robin but when the two of you were a team, it was nearly impossible to stop the two of you. the chemistry when you both fought together didn’t go unnoticed by anyone and Kaldur tended to pair you up together when he knew Wally and Robin would goof off the whole time. 

“so, you go to Gotham Academy?” Robin asked. you nodded, “I do! I had no idea you went there,” you replied, “I wonder if we’ve ever met each other,” Robin joked. 

you gave him a look, “please, I doubt it. I get the sense that you’d probably be really popular and I am the farthest from that,” you admitted. Robin gave you a look, “trust me, I am not popular. are you in any clubs?” Robin asked. 

a part of you screamed to tell him but another part of you told you no, “I am but for the sake of keeping my identity a secret, I would rather not say,” you said empathetically. Robin waved your off, “no, I completely understand. the Bat would kill me if he found out someone knew who I was,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “yeah, Wonder Woman would lasso me into another dimension if I did the same.” 

once the two of you parked your motorcycles into the parking lot and sneaked your way inside. you both landed by the auditorium and started to walk around. 

the patrolling went by with mild conversation. since you had to inform Kaldur about both of you coordinates every few minutes, that was probably the only time you spoke up. it wasn’t until you passed the glass shelves that held all of the Mathlete trophies that you made a sudden stop. 

“do you know someone on the team?” Robin asked, gulping his nervousness down a bit. “yeah, I have two friends on the team. one of which I think I like,” you admitted sheepishly. 

Robin gave you a smirk, “oh, tell me! tell me! I want to know!” he exclaimed excitedly. you shoved him against the wall, “no! because if you know him? then you’re going to tell him!” you whisper-yelled. Robin waved you off, basically begging you to tell him, “fine, if I tell you then you’re going to have to swear that you’ll never tell him,” you stated. 

he nodded as you discreetly opened the glass door and took the photo out, “it’s Dick Grayson. he’s so....” you trailed off not knowing to what to say as you stared at the photo mesmerized. Robin remained silent, standing as stiff as a board, “really?” he whispered. 

“yeah, is that an issue?” you asked, a bit surprised by his reaction, “no, not at all. plus, I can’t even lie, the person I’ve been dying to ask out is also on the team,” your eyebrows fluttered to confusion as stared at him, “I told you who my crush is so it’s only fair you tell me!” you said. 

Robin shook his head no, “AH! nope! you’re telling me! I told you my crush on Dick and now you have to tell me! plus, I didn’t know you were gay,” you said off-handedly. Robin stared at you now in more confusion, “I’m not? not that there would be an issue with that if I was but regardless, where did you get that idea?” he asked. 

you held back your laugh, “I mean, the team is mostly guys unless you have a crush on her,” you pointed to yourself jokingly. Robin didn’t say anything as the silence basically answered your question, “wait, do you have a crush on her?” you asked a bit more seriously now. 

“yeah, it’s her. she’s in a few of my classes and my god, she’s gorgeous,” he said “everything I look in for a girl.” your heart stopped dead in it’s tracks as Robin’s communicator went off indicating that Connor and M’Gann got what they needed. 

you hadn’t said much after Robin had confessed his crush to you. you had no idea that it was going to be you who he was and although now you were dying to know his true identity, you knew you shouldn’t even bother with it. plus, Robin probably felt the same way you did when you confessed your crush on Dick. 

after all of you told Red Tornado the information, you quickly departed from the team, telling them you had to be up at 6:00 to get ready for school. Robin could tell that after he admitted his crush to you, you felt a certain way about it but if anything, he should be the one weirded out. you had a crush on him! but considering your identity was sealed shut, he would never know who it really was that liked him unless he figured out your true identity. 

the next morning, you woke up and put on your uniform as you ran your fingers over the burgundy colored gown you were wearing tomorrow. you were beyond excited to be Dick’s date to the formal and you had to be at his place at five to catch dinner before the dance. 

once you made it to school, you greeted Dick with a smile, “mornin’ Grayson!” you said happily. he responded by putting his arm around you with the same amount of excitement you had, “what has you so excited today?” he asked. 

“nothing! just something you shouldn’t worry about! how was your night?” you asked. you felt Dick’s body go stiff as he tried to conjure up some lie, “fine! Bruce had me doing some work for Wayne Enterprises and it practically put me into the grave,” he joked. 

the two of you walked to your math class, slumping immediately into your seats as the morning announcements went off. you were doodling in your notebook as Dick kept muttering to himself about something you couldn’t quiet understand. 

throughout the entire day, you could sense that Dick’s attention was not exactly spot on. his mind seemed to be on cloud nine and once the end of the day came, he had a bunch of theories written inside of his notebook about ( your hero name ) and who could she possibly be. 

“Dick, you’ve been off all day!” you said now a bit annoyed, “is something wrong?” you asked again. he shook his head no, “no, I’m more than okay! just excited about tomorrow is all,” he replied. you nodded, “me too! I’ll be at your house around five so we can eat dinner and head to the dance,” you mentioned as you saw your mom pull up. 

“see ya tomorrow!” Dick exclaimed. 

+

first thing Saturday morning, your mom shook you awake. she said that your stylist would be here any minute to get your hair/makeup done and you needed to shower before then. 

you quickly hopped into the shower while you pulled on some pajamas for the time being. as soon as you got out, you brushed your hair and teeth before walking to the living room to see the stylist preparing her things on the kitchen table. 

“ready love?” she asked sweetly. you nodded, “ready as ever!” you replied as you sat down. 

the time she did your hair, you were making small talk until you heard a knock on the door. your mom mentioned she’d get it and went to the door. when she got back, she was holding a bag of food. 

“I think Dick sent you food,” she joked as she read the note, “oh yeah, it was 100% him,” she said as she showed you the note. 

“can’t wait for tonight! your favorite from Scouts is inside of the boxes.” 

“aw, how sweet of him!” your stylist said, “yeah, he’s one of a kind,” you said not realizing what you were saying. your mom could see the love for him in your eyes and swooned silently. 

after your hair was done, you had basically devoured the food before your stylist got to work on your makeup. this time, it didn’t take as much time. by the time she finished, you had about an hour to put on your dress and do the finishing touches to your look before you had to leave. 

the dress was short from the front as it got longer from the back. it kind of dragged but that was what made you fall in love with it in the first place. you pulled the dress from your closet and had your mom help you zip it up as she put on the necklace she wore the day of her winter formal on you. 

“you look amazing sweety! let me take a few photos before we head out!” 

you rolled your eyes playfully as you posed a few times. after you and her got into the car, you made your way to the manor. you had been there countless times and knew the gate code by memory by this point. you had messaged Dick that you were outside and saw him in the suit he was wearing. 

“wow, you look gorgeous,” Dick whispered, taking you in. you tried to shake off the compliment but you couldn’t as both Alfred and your mom told you to hold still as they took photos. it wasn’t long after that Bruce came out, introducing himself to your mom and instantly making her swoon, “I’ll see you tonight,” she told you as she gave Dick a look, “take care of my daughter,” she stated, now more seriously. 

Dick nodded nervously as Alfred led you into the dining room where the dinner was plated and ready to eat. it didn’t feel like a date as eating with Dick was not uncommon. this time, you both were just dressed extremely fancy. 

Alfred had made you steak and the two of you basically downed it like starving caveman. you and Dick made sure that you didn’t stain yourselves as Alfred informed that the car was warmed up and ready to take you to the dance. Dick had excused himself to the bathroom as Bruce stood in front of you. 

you gulped nervously as he basically towered over you, “please continue making my son happy,” was all he said before leaving back upstairs. you didn’t even get a chance to respond as Dick walked in and basically pulled you towards the car. 

the formal was already going when the two of you arrived. you could hear the music blaring from outside and in order to get in, you had to pass the ‘paparazzi’ Gotham Academy set up. you two annoyingly took the photos that were being taken by people from the yearbook team and entered the auditorium. 

you smiled at Dick as you both found a few of your mutual friends and sat down with them. the night was one you knew you weren’t going to forget as Dick had his arm around you the entire time. you could feel him squeezing your shoulder every time he noticed someone checking you out. 

“I love this song!” you exclaimed, hearing ‘New Light’ by John Mayer playing, “wanna dance?” he asked. you instantly nodded and walked onto the dance floor. 

“Oh I want a take two. I wanna break through. I wanna know the real thing about you so I can see you in a new light.”

the two of you danced, a bit closer than you intended but not that you were complaining. 

song after song came and it wasn’t until you heard a beep going off when you realized what was happening. it was the teams communicator indicating that Kaldur wanted everyone at Mount Justice again. you sighed knowing if you didn’t answer, you’d probably get berated for skipping out. 

secondly, you had told Kaldur unless it was an emergency, not to contact you so it must’ve been urgent if he was. you stared at Dick who was standing by the table, staring at something when you realized you had to break the news to him. 

“hey Dick, there was an emergency at home and I need to leave like right now.” you felt tears pricking your eyes as you just wanted to tell the team to fuck off for ruining your night with Dick, “it’s okay! Bruce called me just now and said something happened to Alfred and I should head home,” he said. 

you sighed in relief as you told him you hoped everything with Alfred was okay and you’d see him on Monday. it now had dawned on you that your spare uniform was inside of Mount Justice and you would have no time to get the one from your house. 

the only thing you had on you was your domino mask which you knew would make due until you changed into your uniform. you found the nearest zeta tube and teleported to Mount Justice. 

your hero name rang off through the telecom, catching everyone’s attention. you had slipped on your domino mask but your worst fear thus far came true. everyone was surrounding the zeta tube which you came from and saw your hair. 

“wow, you look great,” Connor and Wally murmured to themselves. Kaldur slapped them in the head as he stared at your apologetically, “I know tonight was your night off but Rob isn’t here either and we both need you for this mission. some of the league is on their way and we need their approval before we go save the kids who are being held hostage,” Kaldur explained. 

you heard Robin’s name ring through the lair as he ran in with urgency. you looked from Kaldur and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. it took Robin a few seconds to look at you but when he did, it was like he saw a ghost in front of him. 

behind his sunglass and your domino mask, it was like a stare off. you felt like the wind was knocked out of you and held onto the table to catch your balance as Robin just stood in place. 

“uh is something wrong?” Wally asked seeing your reactions. both you and Robin were stunned into silence as you didn’t know what to say. Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman’s name now rang through the lair as they entered the main floor. 

they couldn’t help but wonder what was going on as a thick silence was hanging in the air. both Batman and Wonder Woman immediately realized the situation and looked at each other as they put two and two together. the two of you, unintentionally revealed your identities to each other, and Batman more than Wonder Woman knew the two of you were going to be together tonight but what he didn’t expect was that the two of you were going to the lair dressed in the outfits you both wore to the dance. 

“Superman will accompany you on the trip. ( your hero name ) and Robin will stay back,” everyone looked at Batman as Wonder Woman nodded and grabbed you by the shoulder, Batman doing the same with Robin, “why? what happened?” Wally exclaimed. 

“nothing that concerns you Flash, now follow Superman’s orders,” was all Batman said before taking you two into an empty room with Diana following behind you. 

as soon as the door shut, you stared at Dick, his mask now off as you did the same. you didn’t know how to feel. your crush, your best friend, someone you loved dearly this entire time was also on the team and you had no idea what to do. 

“so, as you can see we have a situation. both of you know each others identities and it’s best we keep it between each other. she now knows my real identity and will remain the only one who does know.” 

Diana nodded, “the two of you now hold each others biggest secret and I think it’s best we both leave so you can talk it out,” she mentioned as she escorted Batman out of the room to leave you guys alone. 

Dick stared at you as he tried to read your expression, “all this time we left each other for stupid reasons, we were meeting each other again, just in our different identities?” was what he said. you nodded, “were you ever going to tell me?” you whispered. 

Dick walked up to you and held you close, “truthfully, when the time was right and with the bat’s approval, I was. everything I’ve ever said, tonight, the night we patrolled school together, everything! I meant it. you’re my best friend. you’re also someone I want to keep by my side together,” he finally confessed. 

you stared up at Dick before doing the one thing you always wanted to do. you leaned up and kissed him deeply. he was completely taken back but kissed you back. your arms wrapped his neck as he brought you in even closer. 

“wow, this was not how I expected the night to go,” you murmured against his lips, “for sure but I mean, we have the lair tonight and it’s completely empty. I want to give you that final dance of the night,” he said as he grabbed your hand and led you to the main floor again. 

you stared at Dick and took his hand as he swayed you to the song you first danced back at the formal. 

“take a ride up to Malibu, I just wanna sit and look at you, look at you. what would it matter if your friends knew? who cares what other people say anyway.”

[jaskierek]

Temporary

Summary:

Everyone's always left Jaskier, he's come to expect it. After all, he was temporary, forgettable. Until Geralt comes back. Until Geralt seems bent on proving him wrong.

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

Julian and his parents were never that close.

They weren’t really invested in him if he was being honest.

Well, maybe they were. They were invested in his academic grades and his ‘upbringing’, which for them consisted of learning how to hunt pheasants and which fork to use.

Other than that, Julian was pretty much left alone with no one but his nanny to keep him company. He liked her. She’d sing for him and tuck him in at night with a kiss.

When he was 7 he figured out that she was being paid to care for him so he closed himself off even to her, hiding behind his blinding smiles.

His father wasn’t gentle with him and Julian tended to get in trouble. How else would an ignored child get any sort of attention? Turns out that the Earl of Lettenhove was more invested in the dignity of the Lettenhove name than he was in ignoring his son. So Julian got what he wanted…in a way. It’s sickeningly clichéd, isn’t it?

Eventually his parents didn’t know what to do with him so they sent him off to boarding school.

Julian learned how to be charismatic, how to become popular among his peers and earn ‘friends’. All fleeting relationships, never lasting long, never slipping past his mask of smiles. Unfortunately, that did not stop him from getting into trouble, nor did it keep him interested in his studies.

He remembered one particular professor. He was a wizard with a cane. He knew exactly where to strike to make it the most painful. “No tears.” He used to say and Julian was forced to swallow them down. After a while he learned how to be an academic.

His love for poetry came as a surprise. He’d only started liking it when he was 19. It was also when he’d met the Countess de Stael. Once she’d stepped into his life, poetry had poured out of him. He’d forgo sleep in favour of letting the words slip onto the pages before him. She loved it at the time.

And then she left.

And so Julian had carried on with his studies, allowing his broken heart to write the most beautiful sonnets and ballads.

And then Julian had left. And he’d changed his name. He changed it to Jaskier. Buttercup. Beautiful, bright and yellow. Small, delicate and smooth to the touch.

Buttercup. A weed.

Loosen the soil, yank at its base and pull it out. More room for better things now.

He’d fallen into many beds during his travels. Men, women, neither. Sometimes it was the Countess de Stael herself. He remembered most of their names. And when he didn’t, it was because he’d been blackout drunk. And even then, he’d remember things like the touch of their skin or the colour of their hair.

None lasted long. Many didn’t care to learn his name. He wasn’t hurt. He hadn’t expected anything more.

He wrote beautiful songs. People didn’t care to listen. So he wrote what was popular. He wrote of monsters and heroes and kings. He knew nothing of monsters and heroes and kings. His songs were bad. He wasn’t paid much.

Then he’d met Geralt of Rivia. Witcher. Monster Hunter. Emotionally constipated. Self loathing. Kind. Generous. Asshole. Utter and absolute asshole.

The love of Jaskier’s life.

Geralt had never shown Jaskier much outward affection. Jaskier had hoped that he cared though. He’d hoped that he wasn’t dispensable, forgettable. The Witcher, for all of his grumpiness, had provided food, had let the bard sleep in occasionally, had let him talk for hours on end, had made sure he was always safe and healthy. He had once even nursed Jaskier back to health after a particularly malicious cold that had left him numb and with a raging fever. Jaskier could even make out the faint whisper of worry in the Witcher’s golden eyes.

Geralt had also inspired him to write in a way he hadn’t known possible. Suddenly, the lyrics and notes were pouring out of him again. His pockets filled with coin. His stomach filled with food. His fame spread. His music was respected. People’s desire for him had grown. He was wanted. But never in the way that he needed.

People ignored him when he was with Geralt, their gaze slipping over him like water. He understood. It was hard to focus on a simple bard when a Witcher stood right beside him. And not just any Witcher. Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf. A mass of muscles and sharp swords and white hair and amber eyes and gods, did Jaskier understand. He often found himself struggling to look away. And besides, he was used to not being seen, at least not being seen truly and wholly.

Then came the golden dragon and the witch and the mountain and -

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

It seemed to be a common wish for anyone who’d met him.

Some of his relationships lasted a night, maybe a week, a month, maybe a little more.

With Geralt it had been 20 years. He’d cleaned his wounds, he’d bathed him, he’d learned to understand his grunts and the minute twists of his lips, he’d loved him with all that he had. 20 years. He still wasn’t enough. Jaskier wished he could blame the Witcher. But he’d seen him be kind, he’d seen him be gentle, he’d seen him be careful with his words. Perhaps Jaskier simply wasn’t enough. Maybe he wasn’t enough to warrant care.

Dispensable, forgettable, temporary. Fun while it lasted but not enough to love.

While Jaskier was an idealist, he’d always considered himself to be realistic about his own assets. He was attractive, he had great eyes and a great smile, he was a good dancer, he could write a hell of a song.

There was not much else.

He was annoying, too excitable, too greedy, he was interesting up to a point. He talked too much. He was too cocky. He was useless in a fight. He had a tendency to fool around with married people. He was unlovable.

Ah, yes, and he was dramatic. Overly dramatic.

Jaskier looked at himself in the mirror and smiled, big and bright.

Buttercup.

Weed.

Temporary.

“If life could give me one blessing -”

The smile didn’t waver.

Geralt had found him half a year later performing at a rather respectable inn. He had been singing one of his new songs. It wasn’t about Geralt. None of his new songs were. Not for lack of material though, he found he could write about the Witcher endlessly. Jaskier had believed himself adept at swallowing down pain. He was proven wrong.

“What can I do for you, Witcher?” He’d asked with a grin, hoping Geralt wouldn’t see through it.

“Nothing, Jaskier.  I want nothing from you.” He’d responded and the bard felt his chest clench at that. Perhaps this meeting had simply been an accident. Geralt didn’t want anything to do with him. He should have been used to it.

“Ah, well then,” Jaskier said, turning around, finding he couldn’t stand to look into those amber eyes any longer, “see you around, Geralt.”

“No - Jaskier, please, wait,” the bard had ground to a halt at that, looking over his shoulder to see a pained expression on that beautiful face, “I - I’ve been looking for you.”

So, yes, Geralt had found him and not accidentally. He had been looking for him.

Jaskier didn’t know what to do with that information.

“I want to apologise.”

The smile finally slipped.

“You…you want to apologise?”

“Yes.” Came the response. Short. Fast. Without any room for doubt.

“Why?”

Geralt looked almost incredulous, almost confused. “Because I said terrible things to you.”

Jaskier furrowed his brows.

“So?” He couldn’t help but ask, not maliciously but entirely curiously.

“‘So?’ What do you mean ‘so’? Jaskier, I said things to you that I didn’t mean, things that I couldn’t stand you believing. I - Jaskier, you - you were there and I was angry and I lashed out.”

A beat of silence.

“After the mountain, I - I tried to be alone and I couldn’t stand it. Even…even before - we’d spend weeks apart but I still never felt as alone as I did after I said…what I said and I - I didn’t mean it and then I went to find Yennefer,”

Ah, Jaskier was an idiot. Add that to the list of flaws. Of course he wasn’t the first one to be sought out by the Witcher. Why would he be?

“Must have been a fun reunion.” Jaskier said, trying to inject some genuine sounding mirth into his voice and the smile that had reappeared. Geralt looked away.

“It wasn’t like that. Although we care for each other, we realised that that wasn’t what we wanted.”

Despite himself, Jaskier’s chest still tightened painfully. Hearing - hell, even seeing - how truly and deeply they cared for each other… His smile didn’t waver.

“Sorry about that.” Was all he could think to say.

“Stop it.”

Jaskier blinked.

“Stop what?”

“That smile. That smile you do when you don’t really want to be smiling. I’ve known you for 20 years, bard, I know which smiles are genuine.”  Geralt sounded frustrated. Almost pained.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier. I know I fucked up. I know I did and you deserve to be angry at me but don’t give me that smile. I hate it. I hate that smile.” The Witcher took a step closer and the bard finally let his smile slip. It wasn’t his only mask. Geralt seemed to realise this too, still looking displeased.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, the amusement gone from his voice, but he managed to keep it levelled, not betraying the tiredness behind it.

“I don’t want anything from you, Jaskier,” he paused for a moment. “What I wanted to say was that I talked to Yennefer and she helped me realise that I don’t want a life without you.”

It would’ve sounded romantic if Jaskier wasn’t certain that Geralt would never think of him like that.

“So you do want something from me. You want me to travel with you again.”

Geralt winced and after a moment said, “yes”.

“You hurt me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m - I’m trying to make up for it.”

Jaskier was weak. Add that to the list. He was so fucking weak.

“Okay.”

After that, Geralt would eye the bard warily for a while, as if expecting him to reveal himself as some sort of shapeshifter, a doppler maybe. But Jaskier knew that the Witcher would smell anything like that a mile away so he didn’t really know why he kept glancing at him over the campfire.

Other than that, it seemed like things were back to normal.

Everything forgiven, nothing forgotten. Unfortunately.

Jaskier pushed that out of his mind and returned to his rambles and Witcher-themed ballads. After all, Geralt had said he’d missed him. Surely that had meant the whole ‘Jaskier experience’, prattling and all.

The bard still didn’t know how to comprehend that information. No one had ever missed him in his life. At least, not that he knew of. Maybe they missed how he made them feel, like when the Countess would moan “gods, I missed this,” as he’d trail kisses up her thighs. So no, he didn’t know what Geralt wanted but it was strange. The Witcher smiled at him more, talked to him more. Every time they separated for a time, Geralt would greet him with a small smile. It made the bard’s heart do things and it wasn’t fair.

Perhaps this was a punishment from some god or another, maybe destiny herself or karma. Maybe it was Jaskier’s punishment to have to endure a love for a man who would never reciprocate it, all the while being subjected to that same man openly stating that, yes, he wanted Jaskier around.

A few months later, Geralt had kissed him.

It was after a battle with a Leshy, half wildcat, half bear, with fangs and claws like knives, sharp and long enough to sever a man in half. Jaskier had gotten very close to being that man before Geralt had yanked it back by its tail, swinging his sword as it whirled around in fury. After the fight, the Witcher had surged over to Jaskier, arm bleeding and eyes searching.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice gruff. His hands were running over the bard’s body, checking for injuries.

“No.” Jaskier managed to choke out, trying to ignore the feeling of Geralt’s hands skimming over his hips. “But you are. Let me check that arm.” He said, reaching for the Witcher’s bleeding bicep. A hand snapped up and grabbed his wrist, bringing it back down to his side.

“You got too close.” He rumbled, taking a step closer so that he was practically pressing the bard up against the tree behind him. Jaskier swallowed.

“I know. Sorry.” He let out a shaky breath as he noticed those golden eyes sliding down to his lips. Geralt growled and pressed their lips together, one hand behind Jaskier’s head, the other still gripping his wrist. Jaskier was quick to reciprocate, tangling his fingers in the Witcher’s snowy hair and opening his mouth willingly.

Their kiss was all tongues and teeth and sucking and biting. Their sex was much the same. Jaskier knew it was adrenaline and he knew it was just physical, but he couldn’t stop from smiling the next morning, for once waking before the other man. Geralt’s injured arm was wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, the wound already mostly healed. The bard found himself tracing the outline of Geralt’s cheekbone, his jawline, his thumb running over his lips. He had never known the Witcher to sleep so deeply that a touch would not wake him.

He didn’t know whether this was a one time thing but he was grateful it had happened. Even if he only got to taste the man once, he would find a way to make it be enough.

After a while, Jaskier got up and wet a small rag, cleaning himself before rinsing it and beginning to clean the Witcher, it was nothing he hadn’t already seen, some of it he’d even helped wash before. They were still sticky from the night before and they were nowhere near any lakes or rivers. Geralt woke to Jaskier running the cloth across his thigh.

“Sorry, I thought it would be nice to wake up not so icky.” The bard said, pulling his hand away.

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s hand, “I like it.”

Jaskier smiled and looked away, missing the way his favourite pair of golden eyes lit up at the sight.

“Well, I’m not about to miss my chance at touching that body again.” He said with a whistle. Geralt laughed at that and pulled the bard down, pressing a kiss to his lips that threatened to burst Jaskier’s chest with affection.

The Witcher’s gaze was soft for the rest of the morning.

They’d fall into bed multiple times again. Sometimes it was rough and fast and adrenaline-hazed. Sometimes it was soft and gentle and it left Jaskier feeling heady, his head filling with sweet honey as Geralt’s fingers worked wonders.

It was hard for him not to get attached even more. He knew he shouldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe that Geralt cared for him romantically. He wouldn’t put his heart through that. Still, it was hard.

So one evening, when a particularly brave woman had chosen to flirt with the Witcher, all but offering herself up on a platter, Geralt had looked to Jaskier with a look in his eye.

“It’s okay, Geralt.” He’d reassured him from the seat across the table, he smiled and Geralt frowned before rejecting the woman bluntly. Jaskier felt a sigh of relief building in his throat as the woman sauntered away.

“What did you mean ‘it’s okay’?” Geralt asked, turning to him with stiff shoulders. Jaskier froze. Was he really going to make him say it aloud?

“I - I mean, it’s okay if you want to sleep with other people, you don’t have to worry about me.” You don’t have to worry about me trying to stop you, about me being hurt.

“What - Jaskier -,” The Witcher struggled for a moment before taking a breath, “is this just about sex for you?”

Jaskier definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I…is it for you?” He asked. It was a coward’s response. Had he already put that on the list? Add cowardly to the list. Geralt was quiet and Jaskier could feel his heart beating in his throat as those amber eyes searched his.

“No.”

He thinks he might have misheard.

“What?”

“It’s not just about sex for me and if it is for you then we should stop.”

Jaskier’s mouth was open, trying to find a response. He knew what he wanted to say but a declaration of love was probably not what the Witcher wanted.

“I love you, Jaskier.” Geralt said, his face pinched.

Huh.

“I know you don’t want me like that,” Geralt continued, his gaze still on Jaskier’s, “you of all people have seen the worst of me and I wouldn’t blame you for not being able to stomach romance with a Witcher,” the way he said that word made his chest clench, “but I can’t keep doing this, Jaskier.”

Since when had Geralt ever been more eloquent than his bard?

“You think I don’t love you?” Jaskier’s voice came out quiet, hesitant, incredulous. Geralt’s eyes looked wary.

“You -“

“Geralt, how can I not fucking love you? I’ve spent 20 years loving you. Fuck - it - it hurts how much I love you.”

Because it did. Every time Geralt smiled at him or teased him or tied his hair back in the morning, it was like a blow to Jaskier’s chest, but he’d gotten good at swallowing pain, swallowing tears.

He could tell Geralt was still disbelieving and fuck - he knew that the man’s self-loathing ran deep and he couldn’t help himself from saying; “Geralt, you are the best man I’ve ever known and it frustrates me to no end that you don’t see it.”

Geralt was watching him, scanning his face, his eyes, looking for something.

“Then why - why do you hide yourself from me?” He asked, frustrated, “You - you do this smile that - it’s not you, it’s not your smile. There’s this look in your eyes sometimes. It’s like a wall and I hate that you need to hide from me.”

Jaskier’s hand shot out to grab Geralt’s, trying to comfort him. The Witcher had never been big on affection in public but he let his hand be taken by the bard.

“It’s not you, Geralt, I don’t blame you. It’s - it’s not love…what you feel for me.” Jaskier smiled sadly, his years of practice swallowing down tears being put to use. “It’s not love. You’ll get bored of me soon. I’m not permanent. I’m - I’m a fleeting fancy. And that’s okay.”

“You - I - what?” Geralt asked, looking so completely confused that it was almost comical. “Fuck. We’re not talking about this here.” He said, standing up and dragging Jaskier up through the inn and into their shared room. “Now,” the Witcher growled, whirling on the bard and grabbing him by his shirt, “what the fuck did you just say.”

Geralt didn’t scare Jaskier. He could never scare him, but the bard’s eyes were wide as he looked at Geralt’s furious expression.

“I - I don’t know how to say it, Geralt, I - no one’s ever wanted me before, not in a way that matters.” He managed to choke out, his vision turning blurry. Fuck, he thought he’d gotten good at swallowing down tears but Geralt had yet again proven him wrong.

“Who told you that?” He asked furiously.

“No one,” Jaskier responded, pushing Geralt away and scrubbing at his cheeks fiercely, “no one had to. I know, okay? I know.” The Witcher snarled.

“You know nothing, bard, if you don’t know that I love you.”

“Stop it, Geralt.”

“No.”

“I can’t do this if you’re just going to leave me.”

Jaskier froze and a silence passed. His breath was shaking from barely restrained tears.

“I can’t do this, Geralt,” he continued in a quiet voice, “not if you find someone better and leave me. I - I don’t know what I’d do. Everyone I’ve ever known has either left me or grown tired of me. It’s not a pattern that’s going to end with you. I - I don’t think I could take it if you left me again.”

Geralt’s gaze was soft, pitying. Jaskier was pitiful, add that to the list.

“I’ve known you for over 20 years and I have not grown tired.”

“What is 20 years to a Witcher? And even so, you did, you did grow tired of me.”

‘If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.’

“I didn’t grow tired of you. I grew tired of myself and my ability to fuck everything up.” Geralt said softly, “And I did, I fucked it up.”

“Geralt, it’s not love.”

“Stop saying that.”

“It’s not.”

Geralt snarled and pushed Jaskier up against the wall, leaning in close so that Jaskier had nowhere to look except for those golden eyes. Those disarmingly honest, golden eyes.

“Listen to me, Jaskier, I love you.”

Jaskier wouldn’t cry. He swallowed down a shaky breath.

“I’m irritating.”

“You are.”

“I talk too much.”

“You do. I like it.”

“I’m greedy.”

“You enjoy finery. It’s not the same.”

“I’m arrogant.”

“Clearly you’re not.”

“I can’t fight. I’m a coward.”

“You’re one of the bravest men I know. To the point of recklessness, it worries me.”

“It does?”

“It does.”

Geralt’s lips were grazing over his now, teasingly. Jaskier smiled, genuinely. Geralt smiled right back.

“You love me?” He asked, voice breaking.

“I do.”

And Jaskier cried, finally.

Jaskier cried and laughed and kissed Geralt. It was bad. It was wet and sloppy and he loved it. And Geralt loved it too. Because he loved him. Jaskier. He loved him.

Then Geralt had dragged him to bed, whispering praise into his skin as if hoping it would soak through him and settle in his bones. Jaskier had done the same because fuck, he was in love and it was dizzying.

“You know,” Jaskier began the next morning, earning a grunt from the Witcher laying under him, “I think last night was the longest I’ve ever heard you speak.” The chest beneath the bard’s head rumbled with a laugh.

“Fuck off.”

“I guess I just bring it out of you, Witcher.” Jaskier continued, grinning devilishly.

“I will kick you out of this bed, bard.”

“Please, I dare you to try and rip me off of you. I have melded my body onto yours.”

Geralt simply grumbled in response. It was a grumble of acceptance, Jaskier could tell. He could always tell.

-

They ran into Yennefer two months later and Jaskier found that he wasn’t concerned. He wasn’t worried Geralt would return to her. Partly because when she spotted them the first thing out of her mouth was;

“Finally. For Melitele’s sake, that took much too long.”

Geralt had looked at her with a pointedly unamused gaze which she’d returned with a wink.

Later, after they had helped her with a monster-slaying job so she could collect some sort of venom, the three had shared drinks.

“I take full credit for this, by the way.” She’d said, gesturing to the two of them and the arm wrapped around Jaskier’s waist.

“In what way is this your doing?” Jaskier had asked.

“I’m the one who told him to tell you how he felt.”

“Which he did months after he’d found me.”

“Is his lack of communication skills my fault?”

“If he didn’t do it when you told him to then it doesn’t count.”

“Fuck off, it counts.”

“It most certainly does not.”

Geralt took a sip of his ale as the two continued to bicker.

Not long after, Yennefer had decided to join them - “graced” them with her presence as she’d put it. Jaskier could tell that Geralt and the sorceress still cared for each other deeply. He couldn’t really talk though, he’d found himself caring for her as well. When she’d called him her “friend” he had practically glowed. Then Ciri had barrelled into their lives and their little circle had grown and gods, did he love that little girl.

“Where are your parents, Jaskier?” She had once asked as he was soothing her back to sleep after a nightmare. It was always Cintra burning, Jaskier ached for her. She was too young for all of this.

“I don’t know, honey, I haven’t spoken to them for years.”

“Why not?”

“We were never really a family.”

Ciri paused before smiling widely.

“But you have a family now.”

Jaskier smiled back, brushing the hair out of her face and listening to the sounds of Yennefer sleeping soundly and Geralt mumbling something to Roach.

“I do.”

[rainbowtransform]

Neither Of Us Will Be Missed

OKAY! Chpater Two is here, up and running! Thank you for reading, thanks for listening, thanks for reblogging and liking! :D

He climbs the trees and the leaves rustle as he settles. The trees are one of the most important parts of hiding from Hunters, and even though Dream’s Hunters usually know his tricks and could try to cut him off, these one don’t seem to. Cat jumps onto the tree and slips off, falling on his feet.

Shame, come Dream’s thought, unbidden. If Cat broke his leg, then he’d be out of the running for the Jump at least. They’d have to leave him behind. Then again, Flame came after Dream with a broken wrist a couple Jumps ago. There’s no way to judge when they’d leave behind a teammate, or when a teammate will let themselves be left behind. 

But if Dream keeps jumping in the trees and if he shakes enough leaves, they’ll think that he can’t be silent in the trees.

(Hide, right now. Dream, hide, hide, hide)

He manages to look through his inventory again, and he rips another loaf of bread and chucks it overhead. The Hunters’ eyes snap toward where the bread dropped and Dream holds his breath. They end up going that way, and Dream sneaks toward the right. 

The first time they’d Jumped was when Dream was killed the First Time. He’d been sent right into a grassy plain, empty except for a sleeping Hunter next to him. Dream had nothing with him, no food, no supplies, nothing. The Hunter looked the same way, but Dream didn’t stick around long enough to exanime it.

Dream had set off running. A sleeping Hunter wouldn’t be sleeping for long, and even though it took the Hunter a long time (maybe three months? Maybe two? Dream couldn’t remember) to Hunt and Kill him, Dream won’t let it happen a second time.

(He survives this one for almost a year. He sees how desperate the Hunter gets and how reckless he gets as well. Dream watches as the Hunter steps into lava for the upteempth time, trying to get to him, seething silently.

Dream called him ‘Flame’ afterward.)

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

He ends up by a river and he looks through his inventory again, searching for a water bottle or something to fill up. There’s nothing and Dream clicks his tongue. That’s not good. But it isn’t the first time he hasn’t had anything.

Why do you have Netherite? Only Hunters get it.

Dream shrugs it off. Hunters are usually the only ones who get Netherite, but then again, ever since they’ve entered the Jump, they’ve always been set back to the beginning. Dream swims across the river, all the while wondering why the Jump suddenly wants them all to have Netherite.

It’s weird, Dream decides. But the Jumps are all weird and Dream’s nothing if he doesn’t take it in stride. When Dream makes it to the other side, he climbs out, shivering. The air’s cool, and Dream takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air. Winter, Dream thinks.

It’s almost winter. 

The Jumps always start in Spring.

The Jumps… always start in spring.

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

“Is he really not ours?”

“Yes! See the mask? Ours is more chipped, plus there’s no scar on his hand. See?” And here his hand’s yanked forward, and flipped this way and that, and he’s annoyed.

“Can he break it?”

“Break what?”

“The curse? The Reset?” 

“What the fuck is that?”

“Every time Mask kills a dragon, it resets him. Or every time we kill him.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “So what or why are you looking for this ‘mask’?”

“He helped a traitor escape.” Bad says. “Emperor Schlatt deemed him an accomplice and sent us to get him.”

“But if we knew what he was, we wouldn’t have even taken the job.” George claims, setting down a piece of bread into Dream-who-isn’t-Dream’s hands. 

“What is he?” He asks, tearing the bread into little pieces and eating it like that. 

“He’s a Marked.”

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

Dream falters when he comes to a huge hole in the ground and things are built on stilts. There’s a bunch of houses, but Dream sees balconies and second stories. 

If he gets caught, he can jump from one place to the other; and the roof’s always a good option as well. He’s debating it when someone’s hand sits itself on his shoulder.

He grabs the hand and throws the person over his shoulder and slams him into the ground. A man with green and white hat and green clothing stares up at him.

“Hey,” Philza Minecraft, the World’s first Hardcore-born child says. “Whatcha doing here, mate?”

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

Dream read and heard all about Philza back when he was younger. His mother would sit him down and read him stories about how Philza used to build big things in his world, and how he’d fought two dragons! 

She even told him about how all Hardcore-born children were sent to live in a normal world until they were old enough to realize that once you die in Hardcore, you’re dead. (By that point, many of the children never wanted to return to their Home Worlds), and Hardcore Worlds began to die out.

Philza Minecraft was born and hidden from people who searched for children to send away. How his parents didn’t want their child to be sent away from them, and how so they hide him deep underground. (The older generation had wings that they, apparently, grew themselves. Philza’s parents figured out how)

Hardcore is a hard place to raise children, but it’s even harder to raise a child privately. But at the same time, Hardcore is where wings are grown and minds are sharpened. Philza’s mind was as sharp as can be when his wings were just starting to form on his back. 

“He loved to fly, just like someone else I know,” Dream’s mother would tell him, holding Dream close to her chest as she rocked him. “And he wouldn’t stop flying, not even when his parents begged and pleaded.”

“What happened to him?” Dream asked fuzzily.

His mother hummed. “He didn’t die,” she said. “But some say his wings got clipped and he no longer could fly. Instead, he decided to settle down and adopt three children. Technoblade,”

“A rival,” Dream sleepy calls him, and Puffy laughs so hard, he almost gets up. 

“Technoblade, a rival and so called ‘Blood God,’” she agreed. “Wilbur Soot, self-proclaimed musician and lyric lover. And TommyInnIt, a child who had seen too much in the tiniest amount of time.”

Dream laughs a bit. “He’s a kid?”

“A teenager by now,” Puffy tells him. “You really like listening to these myths huh?”

“They aren’t myths,” Dream says. “They’re real, aren’t they?”

Puffy chuckles. “Of course, duckling,” she said. “As long as you believe in them, then I’m sure they’re just as real as I am to you. Right?”

“It’s a belief thing, right Mom?” Dream asks. Puffy ruffles his hair and begins rocking him and humming a song he hasn’t heard in a long time. Dream falls asleep to his mother’s humming and thinking about a family of four.

(And somewhere else, a hand grabs a teenager’s and helps him climb out of a ditch. A man with wings big enough to keep four boys underneath them blinks. “I’ll see if I can scout out a place,” he says.

“I’ll come with,” a piglin hybrid tells him. 

“Okay, son. Tommy, Wilbur. You two stay here, and make sure we’ve got something to eat when we get back, okay?”

“Got it, Dad.” Tommy says before grabbing Wilbur’s arm and beginning to tug it.)

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

“Is it true?” Dream blurts out, and Philza looks back at him when they’re safely in his home.

“Is what true?” Philza asked, hands on his hips.

“That you were the first Hardcore child in millions of years,” Dream gestures wildly to the wings tucked tight against Philza’s spine.

“Uh, no?” Philza said. “Who told you that?”

“My… my mom,” Dream mumbled and Philza laughs. 

“Moms say a lot of things,” he says before checking out the window again. “Techno told me you might be coming.”

And Dream stops breathing.

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

“Marked are people with magical ability,” Sapnap says, roasting a rabbit over the fire he’d made. “They can do basically anything if they really set their minds to it. Philza Minecraft’s a Marked ‘cause he can fly, you know? Technoblade is because he can Shapeshift; so’s TommyInnIt who can make anyone attached to him like a sort of family thing? And Wilbur Soot can use his Words to destroy someone from the inside out.”

“Dream’s pretty powerful,” Ant says, pinning up some laundry to dry. “He created the End Realm, you know? It wasn’t anything until he’d somehow did something and made it occupied with dragons, eggs, and those Endermen things. We think he started the Jumps too.”

“If we kill him permanently,” Bad says. “Then the Jump will stop, and we’ll all start going back to normal.”

“How long have you been trapped here?”

Bad takes a deep breath, and so does George. Ant and Sapnap don’t even glance up before George says, in a low, low voice “We’ve been doing this for twenty years.”

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

“Breathe,” Philza says, slapping him on the back. “I won’t turn you in. You’re acting weird, but that’s just normal.”

“I don’t think I belong here,” Dream blurts out. Philza stops and turns to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” He asks.

And Dream spills everything. This is Philza Minecraft. He’d know what to do, if anything. (He even talks about how the Jumps work, and how it’s whenever he died or when the dragon dies, but never when the Hunters die, and Philza’s eyes light up.)

He takes a moment, and looks carefully at Dream, and then rearranges his wings (which look burned out, with holes in them and Dream can’t help but think: that shouldn’t be there.)

He looks away for a moment, thinking back to his childhood memory of big fluffy wings that can wrap kids around in them, powerful enough to fly so high in the sky while holding onto his children, and then Philza’s unfurling his wings.

And they look perfect. And Phil looks over at him, and something clicks in his head.

“Oh, mate,” Philza tells him. “You’re the reason the Jumps started.”

Dream’s silent. His hands shake, and he says, in a completely emotionless voice: “What?”

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

@theseventhreincarnation [;)]

[genork-the-fandork]

As an add on to the playlists I created for this particular day, I also wanted to do some writing for the 01 kids as well.

For those who don’t know, I love the Digimon Adventure tri. character songs. (I even did a full blown analysis of the lyrics.) So I decided to do some short one shots featuring a lyric from each kid’s character song.

You can find the songs here in case you haven’t heard them. I found the English translations on Wikimon.

I hope you enjoy! <3

Tai

"If you get lost, I want you to hold my two hands"

Agumon hadn't made it home yet. Tai was starting to get worried about the little Digimon, so he grabbed his coat and went to look for him.

As he looked in the usual places (namely, food stands and shops), he was reminded of a time when he and Kari were little. They'd gone to play hide and seek in the park, and Kari had hidden so well Tai had been looking for her for over an hour. By the time he'd found her, she was crying because she had gotten herself lost and didn't know how to get back to him. He'd had to hold both of her hands and lead her back to where their mom was waiting.

Not that he expected Agumon to be sobbing, but he hoped he would at least find him before he got hurt.

It didn't take long. In the same park Tai had once found Kari in, he found Agumon, kicking his feet back and forth as he sat on a bench. "What took you so long, Tai?" he said, the long-forgotten wrappers of crepes and candies resting beside him.

"There was no telling where you were, buddy," Tai shot back, gently rubbing his knuckles into Agumon's head. 

The Digimon laughed and hopped off the bench, gathering up his trash to throw out. "I got lost, but I knew you'd find me, Tai. You always do."

Tai smiled. "I guess I do."

Even though he didn't need it, Agumon held Tai's hand all the way home.

Matt

"The seasons continue to change and we become adults"

"When did we become adults?" Tai complained, his legs draped over the back of the couch.

"About the same time we started college, I'm pretty sure," Matt quipped from where he sat on the carpet, staring out the window. He glanced over at his best friend, who looked put out by this answer. "Has it gotten through your thick skull yet?"

"You're one to talk," Tai muttered, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "I can't accept it if I refuse to believe it."

"Yeah, yeah." Matt shifted his gaze to stare out at the sunset. His hand lifted and aimlessly searched for Gabumon's head. He'd taken to petting the Digimon's head like this whenever he was deep in thought. The contact kept him grounded; he had no fear of flying away whenever he did this.

"I think it was that summer," Matt finally said, his hand stilling on Gabumon's head. Gabumon looked over at him, immediately understanding his meaning.

"Which summer?" Tai asked. "In case you forgot, there have been many. Nearly ten now."

Matt chuckled wryly. "That summer. Ordinemon."

He didn't have to look to see Tai's eyes turn sad. Matt made it a general rule not to mention Ordinemon in front of his best friend, if only because it reminded him of Nishijima. But he could tell by Tai's silence that he agreed.

Matt murmured, "The seasons kept changing, but we'd already grown up."

They both kind of hated how right the sentiment was.

Sora

"It's alright, my feelings for you will last forever"

Sora sighed at the mess before her. "Biyomon…"

"Sorry, Sora," her partner said meekly, almost shrinking into herself as she refused to meet Sora's eyes.

It was hard to be mad at a Digimon who looked so adorable when remorseful. Sora's mouth quirked up on one side as she crouched down and patted the top of Biyomon's head. "How about you help me clean this up?"

"Okay!" the bird Digimon agreed.

They worked together to clean up the mess Biyomon had accidentally made, humming along to some song they couldn't name as they did so. Despite her occasional clumsiness, Biyomon was quite adept at cleaning up messes. It made Sora thankful to have her around; an extra pair of hands—er, wings—came in handy.

When they were finished, Sora collapsed on a chair. She was suddenly exhausted, and she couldn't really pinpoint why. Maybe she was a tad overwhelmed from all the cleaning she'd done all day, and all the cleaning she had a feeling she'd be doing the rest of the day. Whatever it was, she just needed a moment to sit.

Concerned, Biyomon nervously approached her. "Sora," she began, "you're not mad at me… are you?"

Sora's eyes opened to meet those of her Digimon partner, so wide with worry. "Of course not. What would make you think that?"

"Well… you've just been so tired lately. I thought maybe you'd be mad that I made a mess again…"

"Oh, Biyomon," Sora sighed, folding her Digimon into her arms. "I hope you know I could never stay mad at you. I love you too much."

There was a relieved chirp in her voice as Biyomon said, "And I love you, too, Sora!"

Those three words lifted a good part of the exhaustion from Sora's shoulder.

Izzy

"That fragment of memory I made has disappeared"

Izzy frowned. He lightly placed his fingers on his temple and forehead, trying to pinpoint the sinking feeling in his stomach and the uneasy feeling in his heart. It wasn't a headache, surely, despite him holding his head. And he was fairly sure he didn't have a cold. So what was so wrong?

"What's wrong, Izzy?"

The words weren't coming to him to explain to Tentomon what was wrong. His Digimon buzzed his head, asking him rapid fire questions about his health. He didn't answer any of them, so focused was he on figuring out what was wrong.

"I… forgot."

"Forgot what?" the Digimon asked in surprise.

Looking up at Tentomon, Izzy murmured, "I forgot the first joke of yours I laughed at."

Tentomon landed on the ground and placed a gentle claw on Izzy's lap. "That's it?"

There were tears on his face now, and Izzy had no recollection of shedding them. "It was one of my favorite memories of the time we met."

"Oh, Izzy," Tentomon said fondly, reaching up to pat his cheek. "I'll tell you all the jokes you want."

"I'm sorry," Izzy whispered, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the Digimon. "I didn't want to forget any of that."

"We'll make new memories for as long as we're together," Tentomon reassured him. "That's a promise from Digimon to human."

"Thank you."

Tentomon held Izzy until the pain of losing such a fond memory has faded along with the tears.

Mimi

"I do not want to forget that it happened"

Mimi hummed to herself as she finished stringing the beads on the cord on her desk. Three similar bracelets sat on the right corner of the desk, their beads glinting in the faint sunlight streaming through the window.

"Whatcha doing, Mimi?" Palmon's voice asked from behind her.

"Making bracelets to honor our friends," Mimi declared, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she finished the knot to tie the bracelet together. "There. Wizardmon, Pixiemon, Whamon, and Chuumon are done. Leomon is next."

"But Mimi," Palmon asked, peeking her head over the desk. "Why are you making them?"

"Because they sacrificed themselves to help us, all those years ago. I wasn't sure how to honor them until now."

Palmon blinked, still not understanding. "But… many of them were reborn, Mimi."

Her hands stilled for a moment. Her determined face melted into a sad one. "I know, Palmon." She turned to her Digimon partner and gave her a weak smile. "But I don't want to forget what they did for us just because they got a second chance."

"Oh, Mimi," Palmon sighed, wrapping her arms around Mimi's middle. "You have such a big heart."

"It's not much," Mimi admitted, stroking Palmon's flower. "But I want to keep their memory alive somehow. It's the least I can do."

"Then let me help you," Palmon decided, and Mimi smiled and nodded.

By the time they were done, Mimi had an entire rainbow of bracelets dedicated to their fallen comrades.

Joe

"I sincerely want the strength to protect you, too"

Joe woke up once again to a breakfast tray sitting on his nightstand. Gomamon had surely left it for him, as he had been doing for the past week. He'd been pulling constant all-nighters and late study sessions to cram for his exams again. If his Digimon partner hadn't looked so happy to help, he would've felt bad for constantly putting the little guy out.

It was one of those days where he realized just how much he loved his Digimon.

Yawning, Joe ate the breakfast Gomamon had gotten for him, wondering what was the best way to thank him. That was when he heard the crash in the kitchen.

"Gomamon?" he called, racing out of his room to see what the noise was all about.

The seal-like Digimon crawled out from behind the kitchen counter, favoring one flipper-like paw. "I'm alright, Joe. You have studying to do, right?" he asked, trying, and failing, to mask the pain in his voice.

"Let me see," Joe insisted, holding out his hand.

With a sigh, Gomamon handed him his paw, and Joe's face fell when he saw the cut. "Hold on." From the bathroom, he fetched gauze and some medical tape to wrap the wound. "Oh, Gomamon, I'm so sorry. This wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so tired—"

"Joe, stop, this isn't your fault," Gomamon interrupted, staring up at his human partner and meeting Joe's desperate gaze. "I was clumsy. That's not your fault."

"I know, but…" Joe paused in wrapping Gomamon's paw. He whispered, "But I want to be helpful to you, too. Just like you are to me."

"Hey," Gomamon said, and Joe looked down at him again. The Digimon was grinning. "What are partners for, Joe? Is it so wrong for me to take care of you?"

"Only if I never get to return the favor," Joe teased, pulling Gomamon into a hug. "You better not scare me again like that, okay?"

"Sure thing, Joe," Gomamon laughed.

For the rest of the day, Joe carried Gomamon on his back so he wouldn't strain his paw. Gomamon told him it was very "doctorly" of him to do so.

T.K.

"What is important to me is right here"

"T.K.?"

"Hm?" T.K. looked up from his book to Patamon, who was flapping nervously above his head. "What's up, Patamon?"

"Don't you have a date today?" the little Digimon asked, looking very concerned about the shift in what was usually a very hectic social schedule.

A smile spread across T.K.'s face. "I canceled it. I didn't feel like going today."

"Is that okay?"' Patamon landed on the couch beside T.K., placing his front paws on his lap and staring up at him. "Are you sure she won't be mad?"

"I told her I had something more important to do," T.K. said cryptically, looking back down at his book.

"Oh? And what's that?"

Patamon yelped as T.K. suddenly wrapped him up in his arms, pressing his face into the Digimon's back.

"You silly," T.K. laughed good-naturedly. "Spending time with you is more important."

The Digimon blushed a tiny bit. "R-really?"

"Of course. You're my best friend," T.K. said, hugging him tighter. "Now, how about I read to you?"

"Or we can go get ice cream!"

T.K. laughed out loud. "Sure thing, Patamon," he said. "Anything for you."

Later, T.K. would remark that he had much more fun with Patamon than he would have had with anyone else that day.

Kari

"A shadow of the tears you've shed remains"

Gatomon had been silent all day. Kari was used to this from her by now. Some days they would sit in comfortable silence, staring out the window at nothing in particular or watching something nonsensical on the television. It was par for the course at this point in their lives, but that didn't mean that Kari was sometimes concerned about how sad Gatomon would look on these silent days.

To others, the cat Digimon didn't look any different. But Kari could tell from the look in her eyes, from the way she brushed one paw over the other, from the way her tail swished in a particular fashion, that she was sad. And she had a feeling she knew what it was about.

Today had been one of the more silent days. Gatomon had barely acknowledged Kari's presence all day. That's how Kari knew it was one of the bad ones. Normally, she would have left Gatomon alone to not disturb her. 

But there were tears running down her partner's face, and she couldn't let them stay there.

Without warning, Kari scooped Gatomon into her arms and embraced her, cradling her as she would the family cat, waiting until the sniffles and warm tears stopped falling onto her shoulder. "Wizardmon," Gatomon mewled at one point, and Kari felt her own eyes prick with tears. Of course. Neither of them had ever truly gotten over it.

"It's okay," Kari murmured, pressing her face into Gatomon's fur. "I'm here."

Yes, it was certainly one of those days. One of those days where they mourned together for the friend who'd given himself for them. A friend who had been there for Gatomon where Kari hadn't yet been.

Yet, as Kari had assured Gatomon multiple times since that day, in the middle of the night after a shared nightmare, she wasn't going anywhere. And she never would, so long as they were together.

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Witcher and the Princess: Smoldering

Geralt x Reader

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

Warnings: Language, angst, sad fluff

She came downstairs with bloody knuckles and a brooding attitude. He half expected her to wander away and find a table as far from him as she could, but instead she silently sat across from him, hiding her hands beneath the table.

“After you eat, we’re leaving.”

“I’m not eating,” she muttered, boring holes into the table with fiery eyes.

“You need to-,”

“I’m not eating!” she snapped, slamming her hand against the table. He reached for her hand, the wounds on her knuckles reopening in the movement. She flinched back and glared at him. “Don’t try and bully me. You might be able to in private but out here men want nothing more than to protect pretty girls from men they don’t understand.”

“Whatever your drunk mind tells you, I didn’t bully you.”

“I wasn’t drunk! I had one damn drink before you decided to drag me out. I was as sober as you are right now. So there’s no need to lie.” He was surprised, but he masked it with a furrowed brow and fiery eyes.

“Fine, we’ll leave. But don’t expect us to stop,” he growled, slinging his pack over his shoulder and left the pub, fuming.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she yelled back, marching after him and mounting her horse, defiantly avoiding eye contact as she urged her horse into a gallop. Geralt had no problem catching up with her and proceeding to leave her in the dust.

He didn’t even care where they were going, he just wanted to run her until she begged him to stop. He wanted to hear her screaming over the rush of the wind, pleading for restitution.

And then he wanted to pretend that he couldn’t hear her. This experience was a lesson, that not all gold was equal.

The sun pulled itself high into the sky and scorched their backs. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he could hear her panting close behind him, but still he pushed forward. Eventually the sun dipped, and the world turned black. It was only by the light of the moon that he could see her, still following as closely as the horse could manage. Their path turned from rolling hills to jagged cliffs and the air began to smell of salt. They had ridden near the ocean, meaning that despite his lack of attention they were still on track, and moving much quicker than intended. Not even half of a month had passed, and they were already a third of the way through the journey. They would have to stop soon, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, he didn’t want to go the whole day without gaining the satisfaction of hearing her complain.

He pushed Roach harder and soon the sound of hoofbeats faded from two sets to one. He pulled his horse to a stop and turned around, watching as the princess dug her heels into the side of her motionless horse. He rode back to her and found her foaming with frustration.

“Please go,” she was crying, pleading with the horse, who seemed deaf to her cries.

“It seems your horse has decided we will camp here for the night.” Her eyes blinked to his, angry tears streaming down her face.

“There is still time to continue. The horse can stay here if it doesn’t want to fulfill its duties,” she proclaimed, sliding from her horse, pulling her pack onto her shoulders, and beginning the trek on her own. He could see the limp in her step, the sign of an inexperienced horse rider shining through any denial of pain.

“Any further movement tonight is useless.”

“All progression, no matter how small, is progression,” she argued pushing forwards. He nudged an exhausted Roach forward, leaving the white steed behind.

“Y/N, stop.”

“Are you tired?” she spat, and a growl rumbled in his chest. He caught up to her with ease, and their journey continued.

She walked beside him, steps steady and shoulders back. She was coated in sweat and dust, her legs bowed from the excruciating pain he knew she was feeling, and yet she continued.

She did not complain, not even once.

Even when her feet had grown so heavy, they caught on a shallow lift in the rock and she had hit the ground with a heavy thud, she had silently pulled herself up with an aching slowness and continued. He had worried that she would not rise, that the day’s exhaustion and her body’s protest would keep her close to the ground, but she had proved him wrong. He was sure that was the only thing that was keeping her going, spite.

As the cliffs began to slope towards the beach a small town appeared that he proclaimed their final stop for the night. She nodded and pulled her pack against her a little tighter. The last mile was torturously slow. Her breaths were tight and shallow, but even when he had offered her a spot on Roach she had shook her head and pushed forward. It was not until they rode up to an inn that she allowed herself to lean against a post, swiping away tears and sweat.

It was a gay little inn, singing flowing into the street. The night’s regulars had most likely settled into their chairs and begun their rendition of whatever their local bard whipped up for them. He pushed open the door and Y/N followed him inside, stifling a yawn. He glanced around for the innkeeper, and found his search interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Geralt, is that really you?” Jaskier called from his place on the stage. He jumped to the floor and pushed through the crowd to join him.

“Hello Jaskier,” he grunted, not quite joining him in his joy.

“Share a drink with an old friend?”

“Who’s this?” a very exhausted Y/N asked from behind him, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.

“I am Jaskier, travelling companion and world-famous bard. But who are you?”

“Y/N, princess, package, and extremely tired,” she informed him and Jaskier gawked at the pair, his arm wrapping around the princess, who seemed to be falling asleep on her feet.

“Is this how you treat princesses?” he asked, aghast at her appearance.

“Stubborn ones,” Geralt grunted and she sent him a glare, nudging him with all the energy she could manage. “But that drink.”

“Ah of course, but first let me escort your friend to my room. I have a bath already drawn and a warm bed that you can rest in while two old friends catch up,” he informed her and she nodded softly, leaning into his shoulder as he led her away. She stumbled on the stairs and he caught her around the waist, hand lingering on her hip. Geralt watched the interaction, fists clenching, yearning for nothing more than to rip off the offending arm.

It wasn’t long before he was back and leading Geralt to a table in a far corner, two drinks in his hands.

“So, tell me about your princess,” he prodded, lyrics to a new song practically writing themself across his face.

“I am escorting her, to her husband,” he grunted, downing his drink in a single gulp.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Could have fooled me, oh mighty Witcher,” he said, a smile etching itself on his face. “Based on the state of her I would have guessed that she had had a run in with a stubborn man.”

“She’s a spoiled brat.”

“Who you care for.”

“Horse shit. She is a package at best.”

“If she was simply a package you wouldn’t be trying so hard to make her hate you. If she was just a package she would still look as shiny and new as the day you pulled her from her home. Yet, she’s sobbing in frustration the moment your out of sight.” He snapped his head towards the stairs and then back to Jaskier, searching for any sign of a lie.

“She’s engaged.”

“Never stopped me.”

“She despises every fiber of my being.”

“And that’s never stopped you, so would you just go upstairs and apologize to her before we actually have a drink.”

“You conniving so of a-,”

“Save the insults for when we’re both drunk.” Geralt rolled his eyes and climbed the stairs to the door Jaskier had directed him to.

He pushed the door open and her teary eyes snapped to his. She was instantly wiping away tears, putting on a brave face for the man who had brought her such distress.

“Is everything okay?” she asked and he nodded, approaching her cautiously. The grime of the day had been scrubbed away and only a few marks still marred her appearance. Her cheek was scratched from her fall along the cliffs, the muscles in her legs shook from the horse, and her knuckles fresh, having been torn open sometime throughout the day.

“Are you okay?” She nodded, sniffing softly at the lie. He took the beaten knuckles into his hands and wrapped bandages around the tender flesh. It was when she didn’t pull away from the act of tenderness that he knew all the fight had left her body. Her eyes were sad as they watched him, tears welling in her eyes when he wound them a little too tightly. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine. Shouldn’t have punched the wall,” she muttered. When the wounds were wrapped, she pulled her hands back to her lap, but he pulled them back to him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, for everything,” he whispered. She was surprised to say the least, and it was written all over her face. Tears collected in her eyes again and before he knew it she was crying into his arms. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?”

“I just want to be free,” she sobbed, arms wrapping around his neck as she shook. “Seventy-five days and it’s over, it’s all over.” She inconsolable now, the exhaustion revealing more than the drink ever could. “My life will be over, caught in the claws of destiny.”

“It’s not the end,” he assured her, patting her back pathetically, but she only cried harder. It went on for several moments, her incoherent muttering drowned out by sobs and the fabric of his shirt. Eventually she pulled away and muttered an apology, wiping her eyes. He caught her cheeks in his hands, fingers swiping away the tears. His thumb lingered on the scar that she would be forced to cover up for the rest of her life and brushed it thoughtfully.

He didn’t dare to see how close they were. It was bad enough that he could feel her breath dancing across her skin. The proximity was torturous, and when he gathered the courage to look her in the eye any sense of logic left his body in a sharp exhale.

She was glistening in his hands, tears and innocence glittering in her eyes. And she was so close the soap she had cleaned herself with clogged his senses. He breathed her name and when she didn’t pull away from the moment, he plunged in head first.

His lips finally met hers and he almost came undone at the sigh she breathed into his mouth. Soft hands gathered in his hands, pulling him closer, the first bit of fight he had felt within her since he climbed the stairs and entered Jaskier’s bedroom.

Her lips tasted like honeysuckles and he could feel her long eyelashes brushing against his face, as delicate as butterfly wings in early spring. Her chest swelled against his and he was scrambling to hold her more tightly. He could barely breathe she was so intoxicating. And then it was over and he was craving more, but she looked so tired it seemed wrong. To exhaust her further and so he laid her in the bed and brushed her hair behind her ear before leaving her to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

Tags

@mallorydoesstuff @facelessfiction @aphadriel-fanfic @raspberrydreamclouds @thegreattodd @saint-hardy @ravenclawsstolemybunies @queenofmankind @britty443 @lonewolf471 @utterlyhopeful

[spicyfoodboi]

a royal swap

Genre: random

A keiji akaashi and tetsuro kuroo x reader

A disney prince swap AU!

Synopsis: if our fellow haikyuu boys are people in fairy tales, how will their stories unfold?

a/n: hey guys! You guys probably are confused with the AU. My writer friends (I wuv you guys❤💖💕) and I brainstormed about the haikyuu boys being princes and we came out with this. I thank them for their wonderful support, I'm always here for you guys! Requests are open for haikyuu and enstars so please leave your wonderful ideas in my inbox! Without further ado, let's get on with it!

 Keiji akaashi

As prince charming from cinderella

He was a kind and silent prince.

And that gentleness attracts maidens near and far for the annual masquerade ball that happens at the palace.

This time, the ball was taking place because the king and queen want him a queen to marry, a new heir to the throne.

He was less than enthusiastic about it but his right-hand bokuto, convinced him that it would be fun.

Alas, the night of the masquerade ball arrives, he was standing in front of his throne, looking over the maybe hundreds masked men and women wining and dining, looking for a fair maiden to dance with.

He finally spots a fair lady, dressed in light blue, (h/c) locks flowing behind you, your matching blue butterfly mask obscuring your face, making you anonymous to the prince.

That said prince walks over to you and bowed offering his hand.

"may I have this dance maiden o' fair?" he asked, his voice ever so charming.

You flushed, taking his hand and letting him pull you to the middle of the ballroom as the both of you danced together the whole night.

By the last hour, he brought you to the courtyard so the both of you could look at the wonderful, glittering stars.

After talking about constellations, he was leaning over your figure, about to press a lingering kiss on your lips when the clocktower rung, signifying midnight.

You gasped, pulling away, muttering multiple apologies before dashing out.

He was confused, running after you, only a few steps behind.

You ran down the stairs, leaving your glass slipper on the step. You didn't have time to go back for it. You need to leave.

You did a quick farewell to the running prince and let the carriage drown your apologies to him.

Akaashi took the glass heel from the stairs and examined it, going up in the palace, letting bokuto examine it while the prince thinks of his next action.

The next day, an announcement came that the prince would travel across the kingdom and will ask every maiden to try on the slipper.

With bokuto, the men went house to house, trying out the slipper to no avail.

The prince was starting to lose hope, he sat on his horse, fiddling with its mane with a pout.

They reach the last house at the far end of the town. 2 sisters and their mother came out, trying out the slipper in hopes that it would fit.

When the heel doesn’t fit though, akaashi let out a sad sigh, saying his thank yous to the sisters, he was about to leave the house when a maiden called out.

You were wearing a dress patched up with different rags, your hair tied up with a bandana.

Bokuto lit up when he sees the hope shine in akaashi's eyes.

You try on the slipper and it was a perfect fit.

He took your hand and kissed it.

He didn't let go of your hand on the way back to the palace.

He found his maiden o' fair and he wouldn't let you go again.

 Tetsuro kuroo

As flynn rider from tangled

He was on the run from the royal guards after taking the lost princess' crown in a heist.

He lets his 2 accomplices get taken while he hides inside a cave.

He looks back and sees that it opens to space with a tall tower.

He gaped at the height but took out some small daggers from his satchel and climbed up.

When he reached the top, he only saw a round, fully furnished area before getting hit in the head by something hard.

He woke up, tied to a chair with… (h/c) hair??

he looked around and followed the big lump of hair into the darkness.

"show yourself."

You walk into the light holding a frying pan.

You started talking about the lights that show up every night of your birthday.

And that that date was coming closer and closer.

"where's my satchel?!" he shouted, now struggling under his restraints.

"take me to the lights and I'll give you your satchel back."

He had to agree before getting hit by frying pan again.

He woke up, tied to the chair again.

"untie me so I can help you then."

You hesitantly untied him.

You get down the tower and finally see the real world from the ground.

You were switching back and forth from excitement and nervousness.

Kuroo started to get annoyed so he brought you to the ugly crows and both of you met the delinquents of karasuno and sung about dreams.

The guard, lead by kenma their commander.

I didn't have the heart to make kenma to maximus-

Found the secret passage the duo went into and followed them.

A flood was triggered, trapped in a blocked off cave, kuroo took, what he thought his last breath before plunging.

You got to sing a bit of the lyrics and your hair glowed, lighting the way to freedom.

They got out, and let me tell you, kuroo was shocked.

Does your hair glow?? You wrapped a part of your hair around his bleeding palm and sung once again.

He was even more shocked.

HIS PALM WAS HEALED??

He took you to corona, the kingdom, and showed you around, even renting a boat so you could light up your lantern.

He took you to the nearby shore and set up camp there.

Little did he know, his accomplices were there, he was about to talk to them when he was hit in the head with a hard branch.

He woke up, he was being taken into a cell.

With the help of the delinquents of karasuno and commander kenma, they run back to the tower.

When your hair dropped, he felt so relieved.

Well, not for long.

He got up and felt something sharp stab him.

A knife.

He fell to the ground with a groan.

You tried to run over but it was no use against the restraints.

He tried to refuse but you already made your deal.

That if you heal him, you would join your mother anywhere.

She was about to sing when kuroo took a shard of glass and cut your hair in half, seeing a figure fall off the tall tower, he smiled, fully losing consciousness.

You started to cry, your tears dripping onto his figure, light erupted and the wound was healing itself.

Kuroo woke up to your teary-eyed face.

You brought him into a tight embrace and made sure to keep you close.

You almost lost him but he's back. You promised that you'll always be at his side too.

 Omg this is so long- I'm sorry- ik that some parts with kuroo's aren't accurate to the film but meh, I did pretty well in my opinion! I might do a part 2 with oikawa and a few others! Requests are open for haikyuu and enstars so please leave some in my ask box! Love you guys❤😊😘

this is a reupload!

[phoenixandjacob]

In the Business of Reunions

author's note: so this is just a bit of world building for the dark fantasy au, specifically Lavender and Jaskier's reunion after Geralt kills Ira

this is pretty much what precedes this piece

so like, yeet

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

The night is growing darker, her coin purse fatter, and the tavern patrons drunker with each song she plays. So drunk and rowdy are the villagers that they don't notice the entrance of the witcher and his companion.

But she does. If not for her decades long muscle memory, the wave of horror, relief, and confusion that crashes into her would have made her fumble the next chords.

For standing next to the witcher was Jaskier. Six years had passed since she had last heard from him, five since anyone had last seen him. But…something was wrong.

It was in the simplicity of his outfit, a plain icy blue chemise tucked into black trousers; the lack of reaction when he saw her on stage, a mere passing glance with eyes shadowed in the lamplight where once there would have been a crow of delight or perhaps a good-natured heckling; the suspicious lack of a lute case swung around his torso, instead carried by the hulking figure next to him. And the mere presence of the other man next to her friend. The vitriol and heartbreak staining his words whilst describing the dragon’s quest and vow to never follow the man who’d thrown him away burned in her mind’s eye as the witcher gently steered Jaskier to a table.

Something was very, very wrong.

But she still had a few songs in her set left. And she still hadn't eaten. Fuck.

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

The bard was watching them. She was doing a good job of hiding it, but he could feel her eyes linger on them as she pranced around the tavern. He was unsure of what she wanted with them but her gaze kept slipping towards Jaskier and it was making him uneasy. His medallion’s near constant vibrations due to the ex-bard had only increased as soon as they stepped into the tavern and grew each time she moved closer. It was only the man across from him’s insistence he “Eat a proper meal, Geralt, by the gods!” that kept him from dragging the ex-bard out of the tavern and into the safety of the woods. He could still feel the heat from Jaskier’s glare after he noticed the witcher skimping on feeding himself to increase their pace. The man’s threat to drink all of his potions in retaliation echoes in his mind as he sips his watery broth.

“My dears, I am quite saddened to say that this is the end of my performance! I feel quite honored to have been graced with your presence but, I am quite famished. I wish you all a very good night!”

With that, the bard packs up her lute and hops of the stage. By the humming of his medallion, Geralt knew without looking that she was approaching their table.

Fuck.

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

It’s a relief when the crowd lets her go easily. She starts packing her lute back into its case, gathering the coins scattered around, when she spares a glance towards the corner. Her eyes meet Jaskier’s, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly as he gazes back at her. It should feel like an invitation or curiosity but unease settles in her gut instead. It’s hard to make out his face in the shadows but she swears it’s completely blank.

Eager to get her meal but even more eager to confront the once missing man, she nods towards the barkeep. He nods back and she sets her sights on the corner table. With every step she takes, the witcher grows ever tenser. By the time she makes it within a meter or two of their table, his scowl had deepened to a near snarl and she can hear the wooden tankard splintering under his grasp. If it were anyone else, she would have stayed away. But her friend is sitting there, blankly watching her approach, not even a smile on his lips.

She stops within a meter of the table, a frown playing on her lips. As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, Jaskier cuts her off. A smile slides its way onto his face and he jumps up out of his seat, arms waving.

"Ah, Lavender! Hello! A wonderfully dull set as always,” he teases.

He’s always been a good actor, she thinks absentmindedly.

The bubbly personality she knows from experience is perfect. But it’s the pulsing wave of malevolencehateempty f a e that shreds her budding hope. The smell of mist and decay clings to it, the scent only detectable to other faerie.

“That was weaker than Marx’s attempt to hold a sword and we both know it,” she snipes back, “What’s wrong?”

And just like that, he freezes. The mask he put on slides off and a frigid stare replaces it. It reminds her too much of another icy gaze as the pulsing wave of malevolencehateempty f a e grows. Alarm bells ring in her head as he sits back down.

“Nothing is wrong, go back to your seat," his words are like icicles, piercing through any lingering hope that she was mistaken.

Fear, dread, concern, anger. They well within her breast, nearly choking her. She takes a moment and breathes deeply, wrestling the tidal wave down to a more manageable trickle. It would do her no good to lose control here.

Once she can breathe freely, she glances around the tavern. Seeing that no one is paying them much attention she summons a quick privacy ward around them. She rolls her eyes as the witcher shoots her a look, his hand drifting towards the swords leaning against the wall.

"To keep this between us," she mutters before squinting at Jaskier.

He gazes back at her, the frigid look replaced with empty eyes. Dread rises in her but she squashes it back down. She steps closer and leans against the table, gazing directly into Jaskier’s eyes as she does. She thinks of choosing her next words carefully but decides not to as another pulse of magic washes over her.

"Buttercup, if nothing's wrong, then what in Melitele's name are you wearing and why are you traveling with him again? Furthermore, darling, why do you reek of fae magic?"

While speaking, she slips into the seat next to Jaskier, heedless of the warning growl Geralt let out. A quick wave of her hand and the witcher is frozen. She goes to say something else but a hand grabs her wrist, it’s grip bordering on painful.

“Let him go,” Jaskier growls.

His rumbling voice drags forth that wave of emotion she was trying desperately to smother. Whatever she was going to say dies on her tongue as she takes in the man in front of her. The cold glare from before had nothing on the fire in his eyes. They burn brighter than the sun as they pin her in place. Her heart quickens to a rabbit's pace and she can hear her blood rushing in her ears. Distantly, she thinks of a lyric comparing them to the blazing blue stars above.

Her musing is cut off as a gasp escapes her, that pulsing magic turning hot and the empty feeling replaced by rageragerage. It burns against her own magic, feeling as if she was stuck in a raging forest fire. Ozone and smoke follows it and she’s quick to release the witcher. The man grunts as he’s unfrozen and the hand gripping her wrist let’s go.

“Shit, Jaskier,” she pants, as the ozone/smoke smell recedes and is replaced by the previous scent.

She goes to rub her wrist, eyes darting down to it. She wrestles the wave back down again, hesitant to look back into those eyes. They were near identical to another pair, one that haunts her dreams and forced her into human civilization all those years ago. She shakes her head softly and steels herself.

She expects lingering embers, an echo of resentment, when she brings her gaze back up.

Instead all that meets her is a blank slate, barely anything smoldering behind them. Something else makes her pause. She hadn’t noticed before but now she can make out a film of magic, separate from that pulsing wave, covering those eyes. She leans closer and pushes past it, hoping to lift it, even for a moment. Her heart aches as Jaskier blinks and the glamour is removed. He doesn't react to her touching his hand nor when she softly cups his face.

It’s like he can’t even feel it.

Her thumb gently rubs the stubble underneath it as she gazes into his pupiless eyes.

"Buttercup…What happened to you?" she whispers.

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke&Mirrors - playlist

You can find it on Spotify here.

Let’s start from the beginning:

Imagine Dragons - Smoke and Mirrors

Okay, so with Stuck in reverse series everything started with one song that inspired me to write something, and you know what happened later.

With this new series, the idea came first (prompted by @vaneilla​’s wonderful brain, and you know what? I actually went back to check that bit of convo, and it was all because @gallifreyan-uprising​ did what she did to TP, so I guess thank you both, ladies!), and then I was looking for THE song, that could serve as an inspiration and as a title.

And because all my best ideas come to me while driving, and I had Imagine Dragons in my car’s CD player… BOOM.

//I'm starting to cave

I'm losing my flame

I wanted your truth

But I wanted the pain

To disappear

Dream maker, life taker

Open up my mind

All I believe

Is it a dream

That comes crashing down on me?

All that I hope

Is it just smoke and mirrors?

I want to believe

But all that I know

Is it just smoke and mirrors?//

This just felt so fitting for Reader and her struggle a little later in the series, and smoke and mirrors alone seemed like just what I needed to capture the essence of the main conflict between Neil and R.

Chapter 1: Imagine Dragons - Natural

I had the title, I knew what I wanted to do in the first chapter, but I still had doubts if I could switch to this new dynamic. -Neil being mean? I mean how even-- I needed a good playlist to get myself in the right mood to set the tone for the whole series, and even when I found a few songs that were good enough, I knew that none of them was the one. And then again, on my way to work, this time from my Spotify playlist - Natural. I literally started screaming when I realized that it was exactly what I’d been looking for. Not only because of its badass vibe, but those lyrics, holy shit -

//That's the price you pay

Leave behind your heart and cast away

Just another product of today

Rather be the hunter than the prey

And you're standing on the edge face up

'Cause you're a natural

A beating heart of stone

You gotta be so cold

To make it in this world

Yeah, you're a natural

Living your life cutthroat

You gotta be so cold

Yeah, you're a natural//

This is R.  “A beating heart of stone / You gotta be so cold / To make it in this world”. Because she might be all spiky and angry on the outside, but why is she that way? Because she has to. Because nothing ever came easy in her life.

And this is Neil, too. A true natural, as TP calls him. But he also plays a role, because he was put in a position he didn’t want. And not only by TP, but also by R. That scene in the bar? He really hopes to clear the air between them, but she is not ready to listen, and keeps antagonizing him. *sigh* We know how it ends up. Anyway -

bonus: Willyecho - Welcome to the fire

Found this one when I was looking for the vibe, and then those lyrics--:

//I'm focused

I've been watching for the omens

I've been listening to everything you've said

Its been running through my head

Locked and loaded

I've got the feeling that you've noticed

Yeah I've only just begun

I won't stop until it's done

'Til you're broken

So welcome to the fire

I'm the one who lit the night up//

-- because yes, R’s that mad at him, TP, the whole world at this point, really.

Chapter 2: Florence + the Machine - What kind of man

So you know, one of the challenges I’d set for myself for this series was to finally write a proper smut. God, was I stressed out (shoutout to my lovely friends who had to listen to my self-doubting whines for quite some time). And as I knew it was supposed to happen in this chapter, and I already had an appropriate build-up in mind, I needed a song. And it wasn’t this one, although it made its way to the chapter’s playlist. But as I actually wrote the whole thing down… I felt it had that vibe.

//You were on the other side, like always

You could never make you mine//

Oh R, my sweet summer child.

//To let me dangle at a cruel angle

Oh, my feet don't touch the floor

Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out

But you never close the door

What kind of man loves like this?//

And that part is just so fitting with the whole confusion.

bonus: Graffiti Ghosts - Last man standing

The one behind the shooting range sequence:

//Your trigger finger better think about your future

You’re getting twisted thinking I don’t want to shoot ya

I’ve been waiting for a long time

and I’m coming back to get what’s mine

Sick of living with your little double faces

I’m getting itchy and so livid I can taste it

I’ve been waiting for a long time

and I’m swinging til I get what’s mine

but I’m not going down

I’m not going down//

Can’t say that R isn’t fantasizing about shooting Neil at some point, it’s all I’m saying. And the vibe was all right, and worked for the sparring scene as well.

bonus:  Zayde Wolf - New Blood

I needed decent background music to write that sparring scene, you know - to hype myself up. And then found this song. Look at the lyrics:

//I spent my whole life chained to the wall

Hunger for more, not afraid to fall

Had to cut a man down to get where I am

But someone had to tumble, and someone had to stand

Don't try to fight, nothin' you can do

I'm gonna run all over you

It's too late to try, there's nothin' you can do

I'm gonna run all over you//

and

//Most of my life was heavy and hard, yeah

So many days, so many scars

But it was all of those years who make who I am, yeah

But I broke through, and here I stand, yeah//

Added to the playlist instantly. You can see it too, right?

bonus: Nothing But Thieves - Itch

I love this band and I’m eternally grateful that my dear friend @connie-nikas​ itroduced me to their music. Spotify suggested that it fit the mood for the playlist I already had for that part, so I checked the lyrics and YES:

//There's a hunger in my heart

It's full of promise, promise

There's an itch under my skin

It's under my skin, under my skin//

...

//There's a blood red on my shirt

And it's shining, shining

There's a sharp pain from my face

I kinda like it, I like it//

...

//I just wanna love

I just wanna touch

I just wanna see

'Cause I, I just wanna feel something real

'Cause I, I just wanna feel something real

Wanna feel something//

It fits more than one moment in the series, but that blood part seemed accurate for sparring, so it stayed in this chapter.

bonus: Dorothy - Wicked ones

Another Spotify suggestion, and it works pretty well for these dumbasses, although this part:

//This night ain't for the faint of heart

For the faint of heart, for the faint of heart

This night ain't for the faint of heart

'Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart//

--this got me going while I was having heart palpitations as I was getting closer to the locker scene lol.

And then:

//Ain't no sleep when the wicked play

All we do is get laid, uuh uh uuh uuh

Ain't no love when the wicked run

All we do is try to lay off, lay off, lay off

We're the wicked ones, wicked ones//

Fits, right?

bonus: Muse - Undisclosed desires

I -blame- have to thank M for this one, and it was my initial title song for this part. Just see for yourselves:

//I know you've suffered

But I don't want you to hide

It's cold and loveless

I won't let you be denied

Soothing, I'll make you feel pure

Trust me, you can be sure

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart

I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask

I want to exorcise the demons from your past

I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

You trick your lovers

That you're wicked and divine

You may be a sinner

But your innocence is mine

Please me, show me how it's done

Tease me, you are the one//

It just -- it’s not only about that one scene. Maybe it would be even better for part 3? Anyway, could be sung to R almost word for word, right?

Chapter 3: Nothing But Thieves - You know me too well

One of my favourites from this band, and I knew it had to be a title of some part of the story. Because:

//I gave you a call

Baby, I could come by, help forget it all

'Cause in this sticky weather, oh, it's really hard to sleep

As you know all too well

And when we dig together, oh, you make me feel so cheap

But I can't help myself

Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you

Oh, just to see what you do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you

Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well//

So yeah, filthy impetuous soul was only fair to use for that bathroom, right?

//And maybe you're right

We don't get on so well, when we lose the high//

That’s them at this point, all right.

//'Cause every love story always end in tragedy

If you wait long enough//

Oh hello, R’s beliefs here, clear as night.

//Renew me 'cause sometimes I forget

Got my own two hands clenched around my neck//

Could be said by both of them at this point, tbh.

bonus: Leann Rimes - Can’t fight the moonlight

So let me be frank - I knew I wanted to put that bathroom scene somewhere for quite some time, so it’s written purely for self-indulgence. I just needed to find an opportunity. And during one of the brainstorming sessions with A (because she was so kind to help me out with figuring things out when I stumbled over certain plot points, and I can’t thank her enough), the idea of karaoke night came to life and she gave me this song and fuck yes! That was it!  

One of my favourite Neil headcanons is that he likes cheesy songs, and Coyote Ugly movie has a special place in my heart, so I just knew it was the one for him! Especially because:

//Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down//

it’s just perfect if you wanna kinda seduce/kinda embarrass someone, right? And also:

//You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart//

Because yes, he wanted to kiss her in that locker room, that’s a thing you do when you’re attracted to someone, right? He thought it was just because of this whole angry sex thing, but was aware of that all the time, that’s why R’s reaction in the bathroom alarms him. I mean it would make him stop anyway, but still.

bonus: Ruelle - Until we go down

The mood progression in this song fried my brain, absolutely amazing!

The lyrics, too:

//And I feel it running through my veins

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Erased, I missed till the break of day

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Until we go down//

bonus: Bishop Briggs - Wild horses

Another song that captures the spirit of what’s going on in R’s head.

//You hold me down in the best way

No quarter from these chains that I've

Slept on my heart for a feeling

Why can't I let my demons out?

Keep screaming into the pillow

Cause your taste still gets me stupid high

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh glory, I'm a troubler//

At this point, she’s well aware of the effect Neil has on her, and the internal conflict is strong in this one.

//You call my truth in the worst way

Through the dirty lands of a broken smile

And I swear I'm not a pretender

Sometimes it's love who's the baby's cry

So, I keep on damning the devil

And you keep on saying it's alright

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh Lord, I'm holding tight, but//

And the whole vibe of this song, it’s like fuck I’m losing my mind, but I want you and I want you now. Just makes my breath hitch.

bonus: Transviolet - Bloodstream

And as I needed a certain mood, -(ended up actually writing with TENDER in the background because apparently I need a complete opposite mood seeping through my headphones to write any smut at all but anyway...)-, and this song is just...wow.

//Fingertips drip down my spine

Cruel desire, danger in our consequence

You look my way and I lose my…

Hey, you wanna rule the world?

Outlaw love, make you lose control

Hey, hey, boy you got me like whoa

White hot, adrenaline baby

In my veins, you got me praying

Whoa, whoa, whoaaaa

My pretty blue lips begging

Take me, I need you in my bloodstream

Hold me, break me

My breath is for holding, overdose me

I need you in my bloodstream

Hold me, break me, break me//

Hot. I won’t be taking any notes.

Chapter 4: Aimee Mann - Save me

You remember that part 4 was supposed to be the last one? Don’t ask me, I don’t know how I would manage to get that emotional progression from these dumbasses by the end of that part, so I’m glad y’all voted on splitting it into 2 (and then another 2) parts. But I already had a playlist for the finale, and then had to make a new one, and then had too many possible title songs.

Why did this one win? Because in my brain it’s directly connected to my OTP and also fits this part of the story. I battled myself if it was a spoiler or not (and also had trouble getting to terms with R ever admitting that she needs to be saved), but then thought - eh, what the hell, it has the right lyrics and a proper mood, and here it is.

//You look like a perfect fit

For a girl in need of a tourniquet

But can you save me

Come on and save me

If you could save me

From the ranks of the freaks

Who suspect they could never love anyone//

and that shift to this part, oh my heart:

//Except the freaks

Who suspect they could never love anyone

Except the freaks who could never love anyone.//

bonus: Jamie O'Neal - All by myself

Okay, so the car scene was in my mind for a little while, and in the initial outline, aka part 4 is the finale I couldn't find a place for it and thought I might end up making a one shot out of it, so when I actually had enough time to write it into the story, I was so excited!

I was looking for a song, and the first one that came to my mind was Air Supply - All out of love, but I could never beat what Jensen Ackles did in the outtakes of that one Supernatural episode, so I had to abandon that song, sadly. And then I thought about the one with basically the same vibe and *ding ding ding*.  And of course Neil would know it. And would know what movie this is from (just look at him and try telling me he doesn’t like British rom-coms, I dare you). And would tease R about it. (and that’s why I used that cover of this song).

//Hard to be sure

Sometimes I feel so insecure

And loves so distant and obscure

Remains the cure

All by myself

Don't wanna be

All by myself

Anymore//

bonus: Meg Myers - Motel

I’ve discovered Meg’s music just because of Spotify’s recommendations, and oh my god, it’s amazing! And this song just felt right for their talk during the stakeout, just look at the lyrics:

//You're weak, broken in a motel

You blink, tears are falling down, down, down

And you're free, free inside your own hell

You speak, someone let me out, out, out

And I can't stop this pain, it only grows

Tell me why I always feel alone

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

Show me what I'm really living for

I wanna love, wanna live, wanna breath, wanna give

But it's hard and it's dark and we're doomed from the start

I wanna love, wanna live, wanna breathe, wanna give

But it's hard and it's dark and I'm falling apart//

ahh, nothing like a good old angst, am I right? Perfect for writing about the more vulnerable sides of them.

bonus: Fear Of Men - Sane

There is just something in this song that resonates deeply, you know?

//I see you drowning

Half flesh half stone

With ambitions that drain your health

You hear me

(Secrets)

You run from me

You hear me

(You hear me)

I know

You hear me

(Secrets)

You run from me

You hear me

(You hear me)

You know, you know, you know

It’s in your eyes when you’re perfectly sane

It’s in your blood when you can’t bear these heavy thoughts again

It’s in your eyes when you’re perfectly sane

It’s in your blood when you can’t bear these heavy thoughts again//

bonus: Laura Doggett - Beautiful undone

That track almost ended up as the title. When I stumbled upon this song, I was completely blown away, as in I-had-it-on-repeat-for-4h-straight blown away.

//I took you walking

Through the murmurations of my mind//

that line just strikes me right through the heart, and it gets even better later:

//I'm looking down and my heart's connected

I'm feeling love from a different view

We learn the most when we least expect it

We learn the most when we break in two//

I don’t think that any of them expects to learn more about each other during that one mission. I mean sure, Neil counts on it, but doesn’t know what it's gonna be. And if she lets him into his head at all.

//You know you're beautiful undone

(Shine on)

So beautiful undone

You look beautiful undone

(Hearts connected)

My boy of blue.//

My boy of blue. I don’t know why it screamed Neil to me, but it did.

//It's the cracks that let the light shine

It's the cracks that let the light shine through.//

And that’s exactly it.

Chapter 5: LAUREL - Blue blood

Okay, THIS song, as soon as I heard it, I was like - this is it, this is her.

//You woke me up for your blue blood

Made me come undone

Can't believe you've been here the whole time

Too nice to pass you by and I can't believe

You've been here the whole time

You made me feel again

Made me dance circles 'round the pieces of your heart

You made me feel again

After the last time, didn't think that I could love//

That “was he always so gorgeous” moment, right? When she just sees him for the first time this way. And is slowly coming to terms with her feelings.

bonus: Prep School - Come as you are

So this one… We all know the original song (or this is my old ass talking), but only when I heard this cover, I really felt it, you know?

//Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy//

Just made me think about R being ready to get to know Neil better. About the shift in their dynamic.

//When I swear that I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun//

She lets her guard down, and is ready to trust him.

Also - how great is the mood of this song? That crescendo just takes my breath away, and that calmer moment at the end? Good god. Utter perfection.

bonus: Ray LaMontagne - Such a simple thing

I’ve been sitting on this song for quite some time, and just had to find a suitable moment for it. And this was it.

//Tell me what you're feeling

I can take the pain

Tell me that you mean it

That you won't leave again

Tell me what your heart wants

Such a simple thing

My heart is like paper

Yours is like a flame

I can't make you see

If you don't by now

I'll get through these chains

Some how, some how

Take it if you want it

I'm so tired I just don't care

Can't you see how much you hurt me?

It's like I wasn't there//

My heart just aches while I listen to this song. It’s so tender, and yet so heartbreaking.

bonus: Keane - Hamburg sing

When A sent me this song, god, the way I screamed. Because this is so Neil.

//I don't wanna be adored

Don't wanna be first in line

Or make myself heard

I'd like to bring a little light

To shine a light on your life

To make you feel loved

No, I don't wanna be the only one you know

I want to be the place you call home

I lay myself down to make it so

But you don't want to know

I give much more than I'd ever ask for

Will you see me in the end

Or is it just a waste of time?

Trying to be your friend?

Just shine, shine, shine

Shine a little light

Shine a light on my life

And warm me up again//

At this point in the story, he already fell for her hard. And can just hope that she sees him at one point, too.

You know, writing that first really intimate moment between them-- I know I was supposed to be on R’s side, but I knew what was going on in Neil’s head at that point (that’s why I was so happy when Chels asked that one question that made me write Come as you are) and... I don’t know, I’m so soft for this idiot, I just want to hug him.

//Fool, I wonder if you know yourself at all

You know that it could be so simple//

My dumbasses.

Chapter 6: Phantogram - You’re mine

We’re gonna save this one for the very end, just mentioning it here as we move to the next chapter.

bonus: Adna - Night

You know that sad music montage thing that the movies do after a breakup scene or something? This song has that exact vibe.

//Silence grows and you're all i know

Eyes are closed, I'll see your smile, your love

Thinking

This is what

It could be

Knowing

It is all

It would be

In the night

When you see

What i see

In the night when you feel

What i mean

You're my knight

And my dream

And my only sight

Oh you

Oh you

Stay true//

For me, it’s the beginning of chapter 6. R is almost heartbroken, and that almost comes from the part of her that still thinks that still fights the idea that she might have any feelings for that blonde idiot. Conceal, don't feel, or something. But she’s being haunted by random memories from their time together.

bonus: Snow Patrol - Make this go on forever

This song makes my heart ache and clench and oh my god--

//Please don't let this turn into something it's not

I can only give you everything I've got

I can't be as sorry as you think I should

But I still love you more than anyone else could

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight

Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right

This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long

Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong//

This works for the sad montage thing I’ve mentioned, but it was all about this line:

//First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything//

I was listening to it on my way home one day and my eyes welled up. Because that’s what I wanted both of them to feel right then.

//And I don't know where to look

My words just break and melt

Please just save me from this darkness//

and these lines just brought the image of Neil stumbling over his words and, well, that was it. I knew it had to be done like that.

bonus: Walking On Cars - Speeding Cars

This song is about something different, but there is one part that resonated with the story:

//Even the half smile would have slowed down the time

If I could call you half mine

Maybe this is the safest way to go//

Just fits. Had to be there.

bonus: Etham - Before I lose my mind - Stripped

I think I found this one a while ago, and then it came on when I had Spotify on shuffle, and oh myyyy goooood. That heart-wrenching yearning? So, so on point.

//Look at the state I'm in

I couldn’t say where I've been

Lord knows that it ain't felt like home//

This is as much R’s song, as it is Neil’s.

//I don't know what

I've been running from, running from

Or what I thought I would find

All I know is

You're the only one, only one

I need you tonight

Before I lose my mind//

and this part:

//Don't tell me that I’m too late this time

So much I couldn’t see

With words that I didn't speak

What do I have to do to make you mine?//

This part of the playlist is just utter heartbreak and yearning, but it was only fitting. Just moments before the confession.

bonus: Nick Wilson - Let me hold you

On repeat for the whole part with Neil’s confession. This song is so goddamn beautiful, I can’t--.

//We've been there before

Reaching the end but forgetting the reason we started this for

In all of our flaws

Laid out beneath us, there's no need to keep building up these walls

(Oh we can't go on)

Just let me hold you

I'll run my fingers through your hair

Let our ghost loose

Let me know that you're still there//

bonus: Liz Longley - Rescue my heart

This, on the other hand, started playing right after, and I partially blame it for R’s breakdown. I was just staring at that line about her being afraid to lose him and I was like “where the hell this came from, girl?” and then, as I was trying to push them both further into the plot, but they kinda refused to let each other go, so I was sitting there like “you guys really needed that, huh?”

I know what it sounds like. But when I spend so much time with my characters, really fleshing them out in every possible way, they kinda develop minds of their own, and later they guide me through the dialogue parts, and even sometimes ruin my initial plans. Because they know best how they would behave right then. So all I have to do is just follow them. Or try reasoning with them. (Had a moment like that at the end of the first scene in chapter 6, like had this feeling that R just wanted to dwell on the nature of her relationship with Ives, but I didn’t want to put it there so openly, I was happy with leaving a line here and there, so I had to put my foot down pff - and it switched into that bit about friendships in general)

Right, back to the song:

//Lying to myself I can make it on my own

Making it alone is lonely

Twisting and I'm turning

Oh I'm crashing and I'm burning

So reach out your hand to me

Come down

Rescue my heart I'll drown

Without you//

This is it.

bonus: Madonna - I want you

You know, one of my favourite parts of the writing process is just bumping the ideas around, and I have been blessed to have a wonderful friend such as M, who’s always there when I need to discuss different ideas or just got a bit of dialogue I really want to share. And knowing what I was writing, she sent me this song.

And I’ve been listening to it a lot ever since, and when Neil started his confession, and struggled with words, I wrote: "I want…you.” He moved closer. “The right way.”

I stopped, staring at that line, like really, Neil? This is it? Then the next song from the playlist started playing and:

//I want you the right way

I want you, but I want you to want me too//

So I just sighed and moved on, dropping a short message to M on the way.

bonus: Welshly Arms - Need you tonight

Spotify recommends the best covers, hands down. I love the original song, but this right here? It’s everything.

//How do you feel

I'm lonely

What do you think

Can't take it all

What ya gonna do

Gonna live my life

So slide over here

And give me a moment

Your moves are so raw

I've got to let you know

I've got to let you know

You're one of my kind

I need you tonight

'Cause I'm not sleeping

There's something about you girl

That makes me sweat//

bonus: TENDER - Afternoon

Every song of theirs is just incredibly sensual, so I thought it was only fair to include one of those for the scene (thank you again A, their music is everything, I swear). And this one was particularly accurate:

//I'm spendin' all of my time tryna open up

Let it breathe, let it breathe

It all comes down

To whether you love me anymore

God, I hope you do

'Cause I can't tell, I can't tell

By the look in your eyes//

bonus: Layla - Weightless

Another one for that moment.

//A silver whisper, take flight and steal into my mouth

An urge to kiss you and let this secret pleasure out

Your touch so tender, a helpless roar of golden play

This youthful slender, hallucinate my woes away

We are weightless

We are invincible

Nothin' like this

Flyin' like cannonballs//

bonus: Rob Simonsen - Soft center

While I was discussing the main plot points with A, we knew there had to be a morning after scene, and she had just a song for it. Utter perfection.

end credits: Phantogram - You’re mine

I know I say it a lot, but when A sent it to me… The way I screamed. I couldn’t believe it. The story was already like 2 parts in, I think? And this song...every line was about them. Every. Goddamn. One. And the overall  I just thought to myself “oh, end credits rolling right here.”

//You don't talk to no one

Don't you look at nothing

Focus on me

Look into my eyes

Come a little closer

Let me tell you something

Eat your ego honey

Honey swallow your pride

You don't talk to no one

Don't you look at nothing

Focus on me

Look into my eyes

Come a little closer

Let me tell you something

You ain't going anywhere

'Cause you mine//

And from this part it gets even better:

//I used to be a rifle

Yeah I had my distance,

Whistling like a bullet in the sky//

//I used to be a psycho

Yeah I had my demons,

Crawling like a spider up my spine//

*incoherent screaming*

And the next part took me right back to the very first scene.

//I spotted you the second I walked in the building

I knew that you had let me get you high//

Right? Right???

//I wanna hear the things you say when no-one's listening

But that don't matter anyway...

'Cause you're mine//

And that’s it.

Damn, what a wild ride that was.

Thank you for staying with me until the very end.

[omniswords]

Little Cat on the Roof [Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng]

Adrien's been having nightmares about something he never did. Knows for sure he never did. But it feels like it happened, and it won't leave him alone. And there's only one place he can go to fix it. And there's only one person he can be.

[Spoilers for Chat Blanc; proceed with caution!]

[AO3 Link]     [Buy me a Ko-Fi?]

Adrien supposes it doesn’t matter which rooftop he’s sitting on. He’ll always languish without his lady.

He doesn’t know when he decided on this little tune, about a little cat sitting on a little roof. Honestly, he’d say it came to him first. No matter where it came from, he finds himself humming the melody, sometimes singing these simply lyrics under his breath when he hops from rooftop to rooftop on his weekend patrols, when Ladybug is out of sight.

If there are other words, they’ve never come to him, and he gets the feeling they never will. And he’s not quite sure if it’s something he should be used to.

He’s had this feeling of losing things he’s not sure he ever fully had for a while now.

And it’s probably because of the dreams.

They came after the beret; that’s all he remembers. He can’t make the connection, doesn’t even know if there is one. He only knows that they crept in at all hours of the night, from every angle of his mind, and left him awake and shaking with the image of himself—Chat Noir, no some… some other creature, him and not him—at the end of the world. Watching the moon. Admiring the still high seas, the closest he might ever get to the ocean again. Humming. Singing. Alone.

It isn’t as though he isn’t used to the loneliness, what with his father rarely around, his mother missing, and Nathalie and his bodyguard never quite being the people he ever wanted them to be. It isn’t even as though he’s never had dreams about being alone before; the thought of closed doors echoing through empty halls is more than easy to conjure up. This, though… this leaves him with a hollow sensation in his chest, like something—someone, everyone who’s ever been some kind of someone to him—was ripped from him, from the inside out. This leaves him crying at ungodly hours of the night, sobbing with his head in his hands, begging to be saved without ever knowing why, racking his brain and asking what it is he destroyed, craving the touch of Ladybug’s thumb as it dries away his tears and knowing full well he’s never, ever cried in front of her.

Plagg doesn’t know anything about it. Or if he does, he’s remarkably, uncharacteristically good at keeping quiet. The kindest thing he’s done this whole time is looked the other way. He’s never commented on the growing circles under Adrien’s eyes, even when his classmates have commented on them out of concern. Never once said a thing about Marinette watching more closely from one seat behind. Never even cracked a joke about thinking of cheese to dispel all those heavy, terrifying thoughts.

Adrien has to wonder, every so often, how many more of Plagg’s past holders have ever felt like this. If total destruction and self-isolation are just par of the course with carrying the Black Cat.

If any of them had mothers to hold them, coddle them, comfort them through the night when they were afraid to go to sleep themselves. If any of them even remembered their mothers once they weren’t children anymore.

The words—her words—are somewhere in his head somehow. It’s just been so long that they’re all garbled together, and he can’t piece any of them together for them to make the right kind of sense. It just might be the only thing that’s scarier than the dreams.

He has to get out for a while, he decides one night, long before he lets himself even think about getting into bed (and for what? to stay up for hours on end, singing to himself, because he’s afraid of the inevitable?). There’s only one way to do it, he knows, and there’s only one place to go.

Chat Noir can never stay at the mansion for too long once he’s transformed; there are too many risks, too many unanswered questions. So he sets up a mannequin in his bed, the way he always does when he’s out for the night, and he leaps out his bedroom window, and he’s free. He’s himself. He’s alone, somehow, but not lonely, and not for long. All he has to do is run, jump, fly his way across down with the help of his baton, and he’s there.

On Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony.

He wouldn’t say his relationship with her is unlikely. Unlikely has this never-going-to-happen element to it, and, well, he can’t say he doesn’t believe in the impossible. (He kind of still does, even if he won’t admit to it.) But Marinette wasn’t exactly falling at his feet the first time they met—that afternoon when he kissed her hand and flexed for her and called himself her knight. In fact, she was probably rolling her eyes the whole time, completely different from the inexplicably stuttering, blushing girl who still sits behind him in class.

And for some reason, he’s kind of come to like it that way. That they started the way they did because Ladybug tasked him with her, and because he grew from simply not minding her to… really, really liking her. That when he comes to her like this, she pulls no punches and sees through to the kind of person he actually is, as much as he’s able to let her without actually taking off the mask.

It’s nice to let someone see the boy who’s just looking for some company and freedom in the middle of the night. It’s nice that that someone is Marinette.

Being a fool for irony isn’t so nice—the fact that she sees the truest version of himself when he’s hiding in this suit—but it’s something he’ll have to live with.

The melody is starting to seep into his mind again—a little cat on a roof—and it feels like the only way he can get it out of his head, like most things, is to go along with it—languishes without his lady. He hums to himself at first, lonely in the early evening, until the words make their way to his lips, a little cat on a roof, until they buzz in his chest and drift up to the full moon, languishes without his lady.

Until the hatch door opens—

A little cat—

—and there is Marinette, standing on her balcony in her pajamas with a blanket draped over her shoulders and a mildly horrified expression on her face, when he swivels around on his perch.

He’s never seen her look so scared. So speechless.

He’s never seen her look scared at all.

Eventually, she sinks to her knees, still staring at him, and wraps the blanket more tightly around herself. “You know what that sounds like?” she says. “Something out of a horror movie.” It sounds like she’s trying to crack a joke, to keep things light and familiar between them, but it doesn’t sound so funny to him. It almost makes him feel sorry for her, but Marinette isn’t the sort of person who wants or needs to be pitied.

Chat Noir cocks his head by way of greeting. “Nice to see you, too, Princess. I didn’t even know you liked horror movies.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “I hate them.” And then, when her eyes glitter with the light show of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, when she fumbles with the latch on her door, “Come on, get in. It’s cold out here.”

“Just like that, huh?” He smiles in spite of himself. “You should know better than to let strange boys into your room at night.”

“Yeah, well.” Marinette shivers. “You’re no stranger.”

Something seems… off about her tonight. He can’t quite place it. But she’s disappeared back into her room before he can bring it up, and he finds himself numbly following after her, into the dark, into the warmth.

He’s only been in Marinette’s room a couple of times, but never as Chat Noir. He came over once to train for the Mecha Strike III Tournament with her, and once when he agreed to model some of her clothes back when she started up her fashion design website. He hasn’t been back since then, but he remembers the little things. Mostly he remembers the taste of her parents’ spinach-and-salmon pie and her father’s homemade cookies, but also the decorations and sticky notes on her bulletin board, the miniature flower designs on the backs of her desk chairs, the red paper umbrella adorning her chaise longue and the organized clutter of her workspace.

It’s all still here, surrounding her as she huddles up on the chaise with her blanket and a stuffed animal. It’s so her. It’s… adorable.

“Some things never change,” he muses to himself, forgoing the cat pun for now. There’ll be other opportunities. There are always other opportunities. He nods to the blanket. He can finally get a better look at it now that she’s turned on her desk lamp, though he shouldn’t be surprised by the design. It’s knitted—or maybe crocheted, he can never tell the difference—with a rose-colored yarn, a few handmade flowers decorating one of the corners. It looks warm, a comfortable weight.

“Did your grandma make that for you?” he asks. He’s always wondered what it would be like to have a handmade thing from a grandmother. Or to have a grandmother who visited regularly. He barely has a cousin and an aunt.

Marinette shakes her head. She’s practically hugging the thing by now, the way a sick person might cling to a comfort object, even though she’s managing pretty decently in a hoodie and some sweats. Maybe even overheating. “I made it. It was kinda hard, but it didn’t turn out too bad.”

Chat Noir smiles from his place at her desk, his tail swishing and swiping at the floor. “’S nice.”

She pauses, looks between him and the blanket, and then gets to her feet. (What the hell—even her slippers are cute.) Without a word, she shuffles over to him, unravels the blanket from her body, and lets it ripple in his lap.

His brow furrows. “You’re lending it to me?”

Awkwardly, Marinette rubs the back of her neck and apparently makes it a point not to look at him. “I’m giving it to you.”

“Hey, you don’t have to—”

“Unless pink isn’t your color or something.” She shrugs. “I can always make another one. Who knows? Maybe it’ll come out even better the second time around.”

Chat Noir thumbs the material, wishes he could feel it for real in his hands, and hopes Marinette won’t laugh or make fun on him when he presses the blanket to his cheek. “Pink could be my color.”

For the first time tonight, Marinette smiles. It’s faint, and it’s fleeting, but it’s there. “Let’s just say it’s the least I could do.”

“Well,” he says, “you can’t just say that and not expect me to ask what that’s supposed to mean.” He winks. “You know what they say about curiosity and cats, don’t you?”

He thinks he might be seeing things, but there’s a flicker of a second where Marinette looks… hurt. No, not hurt. Devastated.

He never… never wants to see that look on her face again.

He tries to apologize for it, but she’s already waving it away, shuffling behind him to turn the lights down lower and to fiddle with the music player on her phone. Soon enough, there’s soft, easy rock music drifting around and between them, and she’s rummaging around for another blanket (God, how many does she have?). She curls up on the chaise again, and it’s not long before she’s bouncing her feet. She doesn’t quite follow the rhythm—it’s more like she’s looking for something to keep her busy—but Marinette’s always been like that. Following the pleasant tune of her own song.

He hums in thought, and it kind of sounds more like a purr, but Marinette doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, it almost looks like she likes it. Like maybe it sounds like home, even though he’s pretty sure she’s never mentioned having a cat before. “I didn’t know this kind of music was your vibe.”

She’s got her chin in her hand and a meaningful look in her eyes—that’s the benefit of the suit; he doesn’t need her lamp to see that. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Chat,” she murmurs, and it would sound more fun and light and teasing if not for the way her eyes flutter away after.

He doesn’t exactly know what to say to that, so he sits with it, with her. Two people alone in the almost dark, barely connected. He could reach out for her hand if he wanted to, but he doesn’t see the point if he can’t actually feel her, warm and alive. So he flexes his own, tries to push the urge out through skin and muscle so he doesn’t have to feel it anymore.

It doesn’t work.

“So what’s it for?” he finally asks, daring to cut through the music.

Marinette fidgets in place before she answers, seemingly embarrassed to admit it. “For that night you took me out on the town.” She wraps her new blanket around herself, slithering to the floor. “With the candles and the rose petals and stuff. And when you carried me.” There’s an extra weight to her words, something that says, please tell me you know what I’m talking about, because I don’t think I can stand the shame if you don’t.

How could he not? “It meant something to you? Even if it was for—for…” He pauses. “…Somebody else?”

After a moment’s thought, she nods, slow but sure of herself, and her gaze drops to the blanket in his lap. “It wasn’t meant for me,” she says, “but it got to be mine.”

They stew in that following silence for a while, Marinette idly tapping her feet to some hard-to-follow rhythm. They have these moments sometimes, where they either don’t know what to say, or do know exactly what to say and are just trying to find the right time to say it. Where they look around each other instead of at each other, and stew in each other’s comfort because they’re allowed to. They’re able to.

Eventually, Marinette speaks. She’s usually the one to break the quiet between them, but it’s hard to tell which of them is more anxious about letting it go on for too long without whatever flame they have dying away. But it’s what she says that cocks itself like a gun and barrels down any comeback he might have been loading up. “I’ve been… thinking about you more often, lately.”

It stuns him. In costume, it shouldn’t, but it does anyway, and he’s hoping thats her sight isn’t so keen that she can see him gawking on the inside.

She folds her arms, tries to curl up as tightly as possible. “Don’t make it weird, okay?”

“I’m not trying to,” he admits. He just doesn’t know whether to play up how flattered he is, or to scoop her up and feel how alive she is. How many times does her heart beat in a minute? How many beats does she think of him? And why does he want to know so badly? “But… why?”

Marinette narrows her eyes. “’Why?’”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong”—there’s the usual playfulness, bleeding back in, welcomed home—”anyone and everyone should think of one of Paris’s greatest heroes. Celebrate them, even.” He flicks his tail in her direction, the buckle jingling around his waist. “But you’ve never been the type for all that fanfare. You don’t go falling at my feet all the time.” Even though you should. Even though maybe I wish you would.

She raises a brow. “Does that upset you?”

“Nah.” Another swish, and his eyes go wide in the dark to let more of her in. “Actually, it’s kinda comforting.”

He doesn’t have heat vision, but he almost wishes he did. He just might be a little too curious to know if Marinette is blushing now. “I just have been,” she finally says, with all that hidden meaning of there’s something else, but I can’t let you know. There seems to be a lot of that with her. “I’ve just been thinking that… that I owe you better, I guess. I want to do right by you, because I—”

She pauses—freezes, actually, like the words are caught in her throat—and almost immediately quiets down. And for those few seconds, Marinette looks as lonely as he’s felt in all those dreams.

“Never mind,” she mumbles, and if he strains his ears it sounds like everything she must have wanted to say is sinking back down into the pit of her stomach. “Just. Know I want to be better to you. I’m going to be. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I just do,” Marinette says, and there’s that hidden meaning again: please, please don’t ask. “If… if you’ll let me, I mean. Because… well, I’d like to think you like my company, if you keep on stopping by to see me—”

“I do,” he reassures her, and if he says it too fast, he doesn’t care. “More than you know, Princess.” More than you ever will.

For a split second, Marinette wrinkles her nose, then kills her expression, as if afraid he might have seen it. (Of course he did, but he doesn’t mind. There’s something sort of welcoming about those little things—like how she rolls her eyes or gives him a playfully judgmental up-and-down.) “Well.” She sighs, perhaps letting go of every attachment and every inhibition with the way she draws it out. “Okay. Just know—”

“I know,” he says, tenderly, but he throws in a wink for good measure. “I heard you loud and clear.”

It’s… honestly a bit baffling, how determined she looks—well, more so than usual—in the dim light. All this, just to tell him she wanted to be good to him? Is that really something he—

He wants to end that thought with deserves, but the way Marinette is folding her arms tight and bouncing her leg makes it, and every thought that follows, disappear. Makes him think back to the dreams, and twists his gut, just the same as it feels when he bolts awake and tries to tremble and cry it all out. And God, the last thing Marinette deserves to feel is alone and anxious. And maybe… maybe she thinks it’s the last thing he deserves, too.

If it’ll ease her conscience, then… well, he’s not going to complain.

“C’mere,” Chat Noir says, even though he’s the one going to her. There might something cold and unfeeling about the suit he’s in, but he makes do as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tries to imagine what her blanket must feel like, what kind of comfort it’ll give him once he’s home. She feels stiff at first, which doesn’t really surprise him, but eventually she relaxes, even nestling into his side and laying her head on his shoulder.

If he listens, he swears he can hear her whisper, “You did it.” Breathe it like she’s talking to herself. But he’s not about to read too much into it. It seems like something only she’s allowed to hear.

It feels… comfortable. And right. And safe. He wonders how often something like this happens for her. She wonders if she gets to feel this way, too. If she does right now.

“You ever consider wearing your hair down more often?” It’s the only thing he says to break the silence as she lays his cheek against the crown of her head. It’s soft, and it smells good—which he’ll never, ever say out loud if he wants to keep his hide—and he finds himself playing with the ends of it more than he meant to. “Looks nice on you.”

There she goes, stiff again. Does she really hate it that much? It takes her longer to come back, and even then, he swears he can sense something—fear, or discomfort—lingering under her skin. Maybe even in her bones. “It’s just for bed,” she says, bumping his hand away, and for a moment he lets himself thinking about what it might feel like. What she’d do if he caught it, and held onto it, just for a while. What she’d do if she knew who he really was. But then she pats the back of his hand, as if in apology, and little by little she sinks against his body again. Like, maybe, she’s thinking about that night again.

“That song you sang really does freak me out,” she admits, just barely a whisper over her own music. “Something about a cat on a roof?”

Chat Noir laughs nervously. “I didn’t even know you were still awake.”

“It’s a Friday night. Of course I was still awake. I was just…” Marinette pauses; she doesn’t need to finish her sentence. “Did you not want me to be, or something?”

“No, I… I’m glad you were.” He follows her silence, gives her shoulder a light squeeze. “Do you know any better songs?”

“I guess. Some.”

The song on her playlist turns over to something a little different; she must have it on shuffle. Instead of Jagged Stone or anything of his genre, this piece is purely instrumental and not too upbeat. It’s got that one instrument that sounds like glitter spilling from the sky, and an accordion—or maybe it’s a bandoneon; he can’t really tell, and he doesn’t care to right now. It must be familiar to her, something she’s listened to hundreds of times for hours on end, because she relaxes instantly, and it isn’t long before she’s humming along with the tune.

He didn’t know Marinette could sing. Not that she belts out the notes or sounds like a fairy tale princess—it’s more like her voice holds that peaceful, up-and-down cadence of someone putting her baby or her lover to sleep. But it sounds right, like this is what her voice is made for, and maybe… if she kept at it just a bit longer, he wouldn’t mind falling asleep for a while. And maybe… if he kept on listening, he could hum along, too. For those lonely Paris nights. If he closes his eyes, he can even see and feel those high, end-of-the-world waters receding, every building slowly righting itself, people gaining life in their limbs and warmth in their flesh, walking around like chaos never happened. His suit morphing from white to grey to black, and the bell falling off and rolling away, useless to him. The cold twists in his heart, gone.

From her place on the floor, Marinette turns the music off, still humming that melody, over and over. Within moments, Chat Noir’s eyes flutter shut, and it isn’t until she wraps her blanket around them both and presses her ear to his chest that he realizes he’s purring.

“You were singing about your lady,” she pauses to say. “So… where is she?”

And then the waters are gone altogether, as though none of those horrors ever existed, and his mind takes him to that sunset moment—the same roof, the same old song on his lips—that moment when Ladybug laid her head on his shoulder and watched the day end with him. The day she said…

“Oh,” he says with a smile only he knows. He holds Marinette closer, pulls her in toward the slowing, languid thud-thud-thud of his heart. “She’s somewhere.”

[renaxwrites]

Eleven

.06 -  Fool’s Gold

synopsis: the number Eleven had always appeared in milestones of your life. it was a constant, and you didn’t know why. but you would soon find out when you study abroad in japan and meet Him.

pairing: tsukishima x fem!reader

warnings: none!

masterlist: here :)

a/n: hey y’all! I’m so happy I finally found the time to write the new chapter 😩 college is busy but it izzz what it izzz. also I felt the lyrics for this one were perfect, cause *lol* crows a ha ;) hope you enjoy <3

previous || next

I’m like a crow on a wire. You’re the shining distraction that makes me fly home.

“What the hell is so damn funny? Enlighten me before I make myself go deaf on purpose.”

You and Yachi were giggling for the past five minutes about something that had happened earlier in class.

Face flustered and trying to keep a still face, you turn and sputter out, “Damn, Tsukishima, is- is it a crime pfft to lau- I’m so sorry I can’t even talk to you right now.” You barely get the last of your sentences out as you burst into giggles again.

Tsukishima is just watching you. He’s not even sure how to react. He isn’t even aware that he was staring until Hinata comes up, flicks his head between you two, and states, “Tsukishima, just take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Tsukishima blushes furiously from getting caught, then mutters something about taking a picture of Hinata in his grave.

All of you were in good spirits, with it being the day of the Harvest Moon Festival. Ukai even ended practice early, to allow everyone the time to prepare for the festivities. Although, he had to lightly threaten Hinata and Kageyama if he found out they used the gym outside of practice.

Mizuki encouraged Yachi to get ready with you at the house, hoping to hearten up the girl-bonding the three of you had. She got off of work early to help you two get ready, and it truly was a wholesome experience.

After several hours (or several years to Tsukishima), you and Yachi were all dressed and ready to go. She brings out a mirror so the two of you can inspect your looks.

“You girls look so lovely,” Mizuki gushes.

Let the squealing commence!

“YACHIIII! You’re glowing in that color! Do a spin for me girlie!!”

“Y/NNNN! You’re the one that’s glowing!! I swear, I can already hear all the boys breaking their necks to peek at you!!”

Mizuki had been watching all three of you, so she was a little surprised at her son’s sudden intense blush after the “boys checking out y/n” comment. She definitely took a mental note of that.

Suddenly, a knock at the door captured all of your attention.

Mizuki clasps her hand. “Alright! Kei, watch over these two lovely ladies! Be careful and have fun!” She bids you all goodbye with a hug.

You open the door to find Yamaguchi, Hinata, and Kageyama bouncing from excitement.

“We invited these idiots too? Well, I’m out,” Tsukishima turns to walk back inside, but before he could, you lightly grab his wrist, causing him to abruptly stop. You feel his warmth and swear there’s a light spark.

“Tsukishima, please? It’s my first time anyway, and I want to experience it with everyone! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

He already felt somewhat weak around you, so how could he say no to your puppy-sad eyes? No one with sanity could resist those.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Everyone collectively sighs a breath of relief.

“We’re going to meet the senpais at the festival ground, so let’s gooo!” Hinata announces as you all make your way to the main event.

The main town square was overflowing with festive decorations, painting every nook and cranny. It was just before sunset, so the glow of the lowering sun drowned the atmosphere in golden haze. Pampas grass, blush clovers and autumnal flowers littered windows, adding an extra pop of color. There were people dancing in joyous manner, others feasting on mid-autumn treats, and extra citizens strolling around enjoying the festivities.

Your group had barely walked into the entrance when you were cheerily greeted by 6 more individuals.

“OI! First-years! Your senpais are over here!” Tanaka and Nishinoya belted out to capture your groups’ attention. Soon, you feel engulfed in several hugs from your senpais. Even you and Yachi spent a few minutes with Kiyoko on complimenting each other, who looked like a gem with her deep violet theme.

Time began to fly by, with you and the team happily making your way around the festival, participating in all the activities offered. At some point, there was a dance ritual, and Kiyoko took you and Yachi by surprise by dragging you out to dance. The three of you danced without a care in the world, not even noticing how you were being watched in awe by the rest of the team. All but the first year boys are quick to join, who stand idly on the side, not sure what to do.

Mid-twirl, you notice the four awkward boys playing ‘wallflower’, so you mention it to Yachi, and within that second you two stride up to them. She grabs Tobio and Hinata’s wrists, while you clasp onto Tadashi and Tsukishima’s.

“There is no way we’re letting you stand there like some awkward ass trees. Come dance with us, at least for a little bit!” You didn’t wait for a response as you dragged them out into the square. You let go and slide into the rhythm of the native dance, while the boys awkwardly try to follow. You take a turn helping each of them, and although it was pretty much a lost cause, you all still had a load of fun either way.

Once the period of dancing was over, you and the team made your way over to the food stands. The closer you got, the more engulfed you were in the endless delicious scents. There were heavier servings, such bottomless amounts of dango (white dumplings of rice), tsukimi burgers, and lots of dishes with eggs. Fall fruits and vegetables were also present, such as kuri (chestnuts), kabocha (pumpkin), persimmons, Japanese sweet potatoes, taro, grapes, and pears.

The boys ate a portion from each stand, their appetite never seeming to end. However, you had a hard time deciding which one to choose, so you, Yachi and Kiyoko settled and shared a bit from each. To help the digestion, you made your way to make your harvest offerings.

Each member made line at the temple to make their offering, but Tsukishima sensed your hesitation.

“Don’t know how to do it? I thought you knew everything, you nerd.”

You look up and laugh in slight embarrassment. “I do, it’s just been a while, I guess. Brings back a couple memories, that’s all.”

To be lightly petty, you cut him in line. To your surprise, he doesn’t make a sarcastic comment, so you leave it alone.

The reason why he didn’t was so he could have the privilege to watch you. To see you bask in the soft glow of the candlelight, with wisps of the incense swirling around your face. To feel his own fascination in seeing stillness in your features, for just a moment.

By the time every member had made their offering, it was dark, meaning the moon viewing was about to start.

The moon was shining its brightest at the highest peak in the sky. All of those attending had gathered to surround the main area for the viewing, to get the best view of the moon. Music was softly playing, setting a serene tone.

You and the team had huddled together in awe. But for some reason, something seemed amiss. You turn to each of your friends, only to find one missing.

Tsukishima.

Whispering to Yachi, you set off in search to find him. It shouldn’t be too hard, considering almost everyone was being entranced by the moon. Plus, he’s, you know, pretty tall.

You feel it’s best to retrace your steps. And right you were!

You find Tsukishima purchasing an item, and get the bright idea of trying to sneak behind him. Somehow thinking you were going to be able to scare him. However, you failed two steps in.

He turns around and you two barely missing collision, almost dropping the small bowl in his hand.

“Tsk tsk. Your stalking almost wasted my money, y/n.”

Still catching your breath, you glare up at him. “Well sheesh, not my fault you snuck off.”

He smirks and shakes his head. “Excuse me for going out of my way to be generous, never again I suppose.”

Tilting your head, you ask, “What do you mean?”

He suddenly turns bashful. Thank goodness it was dark enough to mask the pink now flooding his cheeks.

“Well, I saw you practically drooling for these earlier, so...” his voice trails off. He looks in the opposite direction as he puts the bowl out for you to take. You glance down in curiosity. Inside were four little mochi balls in the shape of rabbits.

You feel a bit of blush on your cheeks, and you bring him back down to earth as you say, “You got this for me?”

“It’s either that or hear whining when we get back. I’d rather spend a couple yen for silence to be honest,” he shrugs.

You laugh and playfully push his shoulder with yours. “I’m not that whiny. You swear. Anyway, let’s head back, the moon viewing has already started.”

You begin to walk back to your friends when you feel a gentle tug on your wrist. Turning, you see Tsukishima with his iconic smirk, along with a mysterious, playful glint in his eyes.

“Actually, I have a better spot in mind.”

He leads you back towards the temple, which then branches off to a smaller , more hidden path. Eventually, the two of you are peering over a quaint koi pond, surrounded by lush plant life. Your eyes full of wonder, all while glowing in the moonlight.

Tsukishima has never seen anything so beautiful.

You hardly notice his intense staring as you look up in awe and ponder, “How do you know about this place? It’s gorgeous!”

He breaks his gaze to stare up at the moon above. “This is the one place I have to myself. The one place I can run and hide whenever I needed to. It was just me, and no one else. But...it feels right to share it right now.”

You feel both honored and mesmerized by this moment. To make it sweeter, you open your box and hand a mochi to Tsukishima. “Cheers.”

He silently accepts your mochi and doesn’t object when you clink your rabbit against his, like a teacup. The two of you munch the treat, then continue to revel in the comfortable silence.

After a while, you hear faraway bustles of people, indicating that the viewing was finishing up. “I hate to leave, but it seems like we’re almost done,” you admit forlornly as you pick up your bowl.

Tsukishima is quick to notice a few strands fall from your face, so he takes this opening to lift your chin and tuck them behind your ear.

Your breath hitches.

“You know, I’m sure many boys probably broke their necks today. That color looks good on you.”

You realize this is a response to Yachi’s comment from earlier, and are not even sure how to react. Especially not when he’s super close to you right now. How dare he, messing with your brain’s functionality.

But just as quick as the moment arrived, it was gone.

You both begin trekking back to the team. Just as you feel your phone vibrate to notify it being Eleven o’clock, you feel a warm, “not-too-hard, not-too-soft” pinky tenderly wrap around yours.

It felt just right.

I'm the first to admit that I’m reckless . I get lost in your beauty and I can’t see two feet in front of me.

taglist: @jiminslonglostjams @fantasymirror @shewastheriot @lukes-princess @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @its-bnha-babe @desi-studys @shootooooo @noya-senpai-imagines @animefan7420 @anpancari @tsukkx @cadabby @thoebe-fly @it-was-just-a-ship @imconfusedanditsok @alexa360b34st @delicious-peaches-blog @shinguchi @creammy0

[meganshinsou-tm]

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter one: doomed

❧ genre:  tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ chapter warnings: none

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter song:  Doomed by Bring Me the Horizon

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles | artist credit

[multi-chap masterlist] [next chapter]

Your fingers wrapped around the car key in the ignition, slowly turning it and killing the engine. Leaning forwards, you took a closer look at the outside of the tattoo shop you arrived at. It looked clean and modern, white letters in a sharp font spelled out the shop name on the glass. 

'HERO|INK'

Quirking a brow you couldn't tell if the owners were being clever and using a play on words for 'heroic' or if 'hero ink' was what they were going for. Either way, you shrugged your shoulders and figured it'd be a good topic for small talk during your tattoo session. 

Before exiting your vehicle, your eyes scanned the road you were parked on to make sure no cars were coming. Seeing that it was safe, you wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, nuzzled into your coat and opened the door, taking off into the freezing cold air. The chilly wind and fleeting snow made your eyes screw shut and bones rattle as you ran to the door of the shop.

Once inside you leaned back against the door, underneath it’s ringing bell that signaled your arrival and took a breath from the brief jog. The temperature inside the shop was extremely warm and cozy, making you hum while shaking off the snow flakes from your hair. 

Looking around you were in awe at how well designed and laid out the shop was. You've been in plenty of tattoo shops with your past friends and lover, none of them were even close to how nice this place was. It was pristine, sharp and sleek. Art work was framed and hung from the walls, along with traditional Japanese oni masks. The floors were wood and shiny, the front counter was matte black. The tattoo stations were no where in sight, leading you to believe that they were in the back away from the public.

While looking around and unwrapping your scarf, quick footsteps could be heard from a walkway behind the counter. You looked and smiled when a black-haired male popped up, he gave you a triangular smile in return. He wore a black beanie and had his ears gauged. Black ink in a geometric design with a lotus covered his throat and went further down under the collar of his raglan shirt. Both of his arms were sleeved out, they seemed to have the same theme of geometric patterns along with bold sharp flowers. Looking further you noticed just how massive his elbows were, they were really awkward looking and unconsciously you made a not so cute face. 

A warm chuckle made your eyes tear away from the mans elbows and you blushed with embarrassment.

"I – I'm so sorry for staring."

"Nah, it's normal I have weird elbows. It's just because of my quirk," he smiled.

Before you could ask what his quirk was, he bent one of his elbows and aimed it at you. Suddenly a ribbon of white shot out from it and wrapped around your waist. You gasped when the material retracted and pulled you closer to the front counter that he stood behind. You couldn't help but laugh from the demonstration and clapped when he released you and bowed.

"It's tape, comes in handy for a few things I guess. I'm Sero by the way."

You nodded and took the hand he held out for you to shake, "It looks practical, I'm (Y/N)."

Sero raised his eyebrows and went to the computer monitor at the end of the counter. He smiled and snapped his fingers before looking at you.

"You're here for an appointment,"  he replied and looked at the clock on the wall only to chuckle, "You're five minutes early, we usually never have customers arrive early."

"Yeah, I've never been late for anything in my life honestly, it's just a pet peeve of mine."

Sero breathed out a warm laugh and walked out from behind the counter, his arm motioning you over to a high table that sat against a wall. He pulled out the stool for you and couldn't help but offer his hand when he noticed that the seat was a little too high off the ground.

"Sorry, we usually have massive guys come in here. Rarely do we ever have many females."

You smiled and mentioned it wasn't a problem and thanked him for his help. 

Sero took a seat next to you on the opposite stool after he grabbed a sketch pad and pencil from the counter. The two of you went over the idea you had in mind for your tattoo. As you explained the image, Sero's hand worked at sketching up a general idea of it. What you described was very minimalistic. 

A plain ocean wave, curling in on itself, no shading involved just line work. You also added lyrics that curved around the wave perfectly. Once Sero finished he looked it over and smirked.

"It's simple and really easy, but I can tell you have a reason for this just from the lyrics. It's always nice to have someone come in wanting a piece that holds sentimental value behind it. It makes what we do that much more important."

You smiled and nodded but didn't care to elaborate any further on your meaning. 

Sero nodded himself, quickly figuring out that you didn't want the topic to go any further, to which he was perfectly fine with. He briefly excused himself for a moment and disappeared back behind the counter. You waited silently and watched the busy street outside until Sero came back in a short amount of time and rubbed his hands together as he approached you.

"Alright, where are you wanting to put this?"

You blushed slightly and lifted your arm, placing your hand on the patch of skin on your ribs that started behind the cup of your bra. 

"Here."

Sero raised a brow and nodded, "Okay, that's perfectly fine. You are prepared to remove your shirt and bra for it right? Also, your placement choice may be just a tad bit more painful than other spots."

Nodding, you lowered your arm. "I'm fine with all of that. Pain is of no issue, I have a healing quirk."

Sero chuckled and crossed his hands behind his head, "Well shit then, this should be a piece of cake for you! Your artist is finishing up on one of our guys right now, so we'll go ahead and get your paperwork done."

Quickly, he went to the computer behind the desk and printed up a few forms and jogged back over to you and placed them on the table with a pen. Clearing his throat he rubbed the side of his neck.

"You are older than 18 right? It's just something we have to ask."

You giggled, which seemed to reassure Sero, "Yeah, I'm 22 actually. I know, I don't really look it."

Sero agreed and went over the paperwork with you, it was just simple stuff such as you agreeing and consenting to the tattoo, accepting that a tattoo is indeed like an open wound and is susceptible to infections if not taken care of. The paper also asked that you inform them of any allergies to latex, ink, and other things that would come into contact with your skin. After filling out your paperwork, Sero gathered it and placed it in a file behind the counter and motioned you over behind it and to follow him down a hall. 

There were three doors all on the same side, two were closed and one was open, the sounds of buzzing and low-volume music could be heard the closer you got.

"Hey Kiri, Denks, this is (Y/N)," Sero said as you both hung around the door frame.

You peeked in to see a yellow-haired male, he was shirtless and random tattoos littered his skin as he laid out on a tattoo chair with an arm wrapped around the back of it. One of his nipples were pierced and a ring with a lightning bolt charm hung from it. His golden eyes flickered up to you and they sparkled when he smiled wide and shifted in his chair.

"Goddammit Denki, stay still, I do have a needle to your skin!"

A raspy voice caught your attention and made you look to the male who was hunched over with his back to you, tattooing Denki. 

He wore a black muscle shirt; the sides ripped open all the way down to his waist and showcasing the hard-muscled body beneath the fabric. Both of his arms were covered in traditional Japanese tattoos and a thick black headband had his bright red spiky locks held back, not that they looked like they were going anywhere from how hard and sharp they were.

"Sorry, you know how excited I get when there's a pretty girl around," Denki teased and winked at you.

You couldn't help but blush and smile, only boosting the males ego even more.

Sero moved to stand by Denki and shook his head at the tattoo being placed on his rib cage. "Denki, I really don't understand you sometimes man."

You walked over to look for yourself and covered your mouth trying to hide a chuckle. For some reason this man was getting a tattoo of a hand making an upside down 'ok' symbol. 

The red-head glanced at you from the side, deep red eyes looking at you for the first time and quirked a dark brow. You looked back with a smile only to have one of his eyes narrow before he went back to tattooing. You frowned and nervously rubbed your neck.

"Maybe he's just in the zone," you thought.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure of having such an angelic face enter our shop," Denki asked, batting his exceptionally long lashes at you.

"You mean our shop," Sero corrected and flicked the golden boys forehead as he motioned from himself and Kiri.

He whined and stuck out a pierced tongue making you lightly chuckle and cross your arms while watching the red-head tattoo.

"Well obviously I'm getting a tattoo."

Sero snorted at your straight-forward answer and patted Denki's shoulder.

"Yeah, a tattoo that she's paying for, so hurry it up Red."

Kiri waved off his friend and mumbled incoherently as Sero walked out after giving your shoulder a squeeze and flashing you a reassuring smile. You smiled back and thanked him while removing your coat and sat down in one of the free chairs as you waited for your artist to finish. 

You jumped when you caught Denki staring at you all starry eyed. Your brows knitted, a nervous chuckle rolling off your lips.

"You got a man cuteness?"

Kiri's eyes flashed from his task and to you for a brief second before looking back down and smirking. You suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down your spine from the look his piercing red eyes gave. Shaking it off you looked at Denki and shook your head.

"Uh – no. I just recently moved here actually, so I don't know anyone."

Denki excitedly shifted in his seat, digging something out of his pants and making the red-head growl at him. Suddenly, a phone was tossed your way, fortunately you had quick reflexes and caught the device, giving the yellow-haired man a look.

"You can know me, put your number in there, we should totally go out sometime, I'll make sure you have fun!"

You looked at the phone in your hands and hesitated from being put on the spot so quickly. "Uhh, I don't –"

"Just do it so he'll shut up and I can finish this," Kiri demanded with an annoyed voice.

Denki glared at his friend and pushed his shoulder with his palm, "Hey man what's up your ass!"

"Nothing, I just hate wasting time. I have other things I need to do after all of this shit."

You rolled your eyes, already getting sick of the sour attitude this guy was having so far. Without wasting anymore time you unlocked Denki's phone and went straight to entering your contact information. 

He seemed pretty harmless and actually funny, so what would it hurt to make a new friend. Getting up from your seat, you walked over and handed the phone back to Denki with a smile. 

Once turned around and walking back to your seat, both of the men stole quick glances before you turned back around to sit. Kiri cleared his throat when your (e/c) eyes looked at him and your tongue briefly wet your lips. You bit on the end of it as you quirked a brow at him. He raised his own eyebrow and subtly shook his head, going back to the tattoo. 

Denki went to typing away on his phone, seconds later your own phone went off and you fished it out from your bag on the floor.

You opened it to a text from an unknown number that read, 'Just making sure you didn't give me a bogus number' .

Looking up at Denki, who was once again smiling at you made you quietly giggle. After saving his information you spent the next ten minutes browsing random apps to make the time go by. When the buzzing of the tattoo machine finally stopped you looked up to see Kiri place it on the tray next to him and sigh.

He wiped the ink clean with some tattoo soap and a napkin then nudged Denki's leg as if to say he was finished. Denki smiled and hopped off the chair and walked over to the mirror to check out his comical piece of ink. He turned to you and raised a brow. You were able to fully take in his other tattoos which were all literally random and had no cohesive theme to them. It was a mess really.

"What do you think cutie?"

You smiled and chuckled, brushing back a lock of hair. Unaware of the red eyes watching the small movement with interest. 

"I have a feeling it really suits you."

Kiri yawned in the background and leaned his head to the side, cracking the bones in it and sighing. He stood from his stool and stretched his arms above his head, your eyes widened as you realized just how massive this guy was. There wasn't a single ounce of fat on him, everything was hard tattooed muscle. You swallowed harshly, admitting to yourself that he was definitely attractive, almost too attractive!

"So, virgin skin huh?"

Your eyes blinked and looked over to see Denki crouched down next to you, it made you jump a little and he chuckled. 

"Excuse me," you asked with a smirk.

"I don't see any sort of marks on you, no other tattoos, not even any scars. Even people who live somewhat normal lives have some sort of scars, what are you like some princess that was sheltered from the world?"

Kiri shook his head and tossed an empty ink cup at Denki, "Why can't you mind your own business man."

You shook your head at both men and assured them it was okay. 

"Uh – first off, no I'm not a princess. I've had my fair share of scrapes and scratches, but they don't last long because I have a healing quirk. It's not much but –"

"Shit really? So you could heal my tattoo like right now and I wouldn't have to wait two weeks to go swimming?"

You laughed and placed a hand on Denki's cheek, Kiri looked at you with a raised brow and narrowed his eyes, something foreign and totally fucking stupid bubbling up inside of him at the scene before him. Denki however was over the moon and grabbed your hand.

"You do know it's like freezing balls outside right, you can't go swimming!"

"Of course I can cutie, there are such a thing as indoor pools, hot springs!"

"Ah," you remembered and shook your head, "you have a point I guess. But yeah, I could heal you, its small enough."

Denki stood up eagerly and pulled up his shirt, giving you the side of him with the fresh tattoo. He kindly and desperately pleaded to see your quirk in action. It made you laugh, he was too cute for his own good.

With a smile, you placed a hand on his skin. Denki flinched slightly from the feel of your cold fingertips, you apologized softly, earning a bright smile from him.

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath and cleared your mind, a small buzzing at the back of your skull thrumming as your quirk activated. A dim glow illuminated under your hand quickly before disappearing. 

Kiri watched on closely as he set up fresh tools, his machine and ink for your tattoo. When you pulled your hand away Denki looked down and felt at the patch of skin. It was no longer warm and raised, it felt as if the tattoo had been healed for months.

"Damn sweetheart, you know you'd come in handy around here," Denki complimented with a devious look in his friends direction.

Kiri glared at the golden boy as if he had said something out of line. Denki cleared his throat and lowered his shirt back down but you smiled at him and he instantly perked back up.

"Well, I should be heading off and letting you get to it Red, thanks again. I'll be back later tonight," Denki walked over and gave his friend a half-hug and grabbed his coat from a hook on the wall. 

He sauntered over to you, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to place a kiss to it. You couldn't help but laugh at how unashamed he was, you were really starting to like this guy.

"It was such a pleasure to meet you gorgeous, this definitely won't be our last time seeing each other. I'll hit you up later, maybe we can go for a bite to eat sometime."

You nodded and waved as Denki made his way out of the room. 

The moment he was gone the atmosphere suddenly lost all of it's lightheartedness and you were now alone with the not so charming red-head.

You looked to see him standing at the small desk that sat in a corner of the room, the sound of a printer could be heard and his muscular fingers took the sheet that exited from the machine. His free hand scratched at the back of his neck, body turning around and walking back to the tattoo chair to place the sheet on the leather of it. 

He smirked and looked at you finally where you stood there almost glaring at each other.

"Alright little one, strip."

[mwolf0epsilon]

Story on Norman catching Sammy in Joey cult ?

It's been twice now that I've written Norman's demise. Y'all really like killing people uh?

Summary: Sammy was weird in many ways, but this? This was just crazy.

---

     Back when Norman was still a little tot, his great nanna used to tell him and his brothers and sisters about their great poppop. How he'd been raised in some sort of cult that indoctrinated its disciples from birth. She related to them how, even though he'd managed to escape them, their constant drilling of ideals had never truly left him. Which was why nanna had gotten rid of him. Love him as she did, she knew he was a crazy dangerous man. Little five year old Norman had been very curious about those tales his mama begged nanna not to tell them. He especially found it curious when she described his eyes. Having a condition like the one he had, had made him a prime target for neighbourhood bullies that called him "Crazy-Eye". So hearing about someone who had actual insanity behind what most considered to be the windows to the soul... It had given him a sort of relief, because at least there was a spark of life behind his own unsynchronized peepers.   "N'aw child, don't yous go be tellin' ya mama 'bout what ol' nanna be tellin' you 'bout ya poppop, ya hear?"   "Ok nanna. Won't tell a soul."   "Yous is a clever one, boy. An' don't forget ta keep an eye out... Crazy can hide in plain sight. Sure did for poppop." Insanity could hide in plain sight. That was perhaps the most valuable lesson to take from his nanna's tales. What she could never get across was how hard it was to see someone you cared for slowly be afflicted with it.

     Sammy was a weird man. Had been from day one of Norman meeting him, and never quite changed even when he put a reign on his deplorable attitude. He wasn't a bad person per say. Misguided by a parent with that typical southern brand of white superiority complex. A man who thought his skin color made him better than all the other folk, and who taught his boy to think it was just as sacred an idea as the damn gospel he also tried to drill into Sammy's head. But Sammy was admittedly clever, and much more curious than his father had been. He asked questions and he tried to change when he realized his own crappy behaviour didn't please him all that much. But then things started getting unsettling in the studio. Little things popped up, and the world's own agenda got in the way of Joey Drew's plans. Turns out Joey wasn't about to fold for anything or anyone. Those who were drafted were the lucky ones. Those who were socially outcasts or liabilities in the military's eyes, were not so lucky. They stayed, so the wrongness affected them. The wrongness... Norman had felt something was not right for a long while, but now that he had to get acquainted with so many new hires and the such? He'd been preoccupied. So when the ones he knew suddenly started acting unlike themselves he'd been caught by surprise.   "I don't understand how Mr. Drew has no trouble with him... He's just so..." He'd found Buddy in the bathroom, trying to clean the obvious ink stains on his clothing. "Why did I think helping him would make him less nasty?"   "Sammy tends ta blow up at minor things. If it was as bad as yous say it was, then he was just freaked out from nearly drowning." He got as many paper towels as he could to help the poor kid get rid of as much of the ink as he could.   "Doesn't excuse what he says to me... Or the other Jewish employees..." Buddy murmured sadly.   "What did he say?"   "Not important... Just makes me uneasy. It's like I'm specifically not worth anything just because of my... Mr. Polk?" Buddy blinked once the projectionist dropped everything he was doing to stalk out the door.   "Yous ain't the first he's gone and played that card on. Was a long while ago but I can refresh Sammy's memory for the folks he's been barkin' at."   "Oh! Uh, you don't have to! It's not going to fix anything."   "Trust me, a hard knock on the noggin' works just fine ta sorte Sammy's bullshit." Norman smiled in passing at Dot who paused to watch him and then look at Buddy in concern once he peered out the bathroom door. "You two kids run along now. I'll see yous around." He tried not to laugh when he heard Buddy fretting over potentially getting fired for starting a fight. Kid still had a lot to learn about how Joey Drew Studios ran for all these years. Sometimes tough love was all it needed. But not this time.

     His nanna's tales rushed back to him when he'd cornered Sammy in his office. Norman didn't like roughing people up, but he'd promised the music director that if he stepped on any toes for the wrong reasons he'd give him a whooping like the one the blond had been begging for, back when he'd first harassed the projectionist. He had half a mind to start hollering until he'd caught sight of Sammy's eyes. Nanna had described insanity in great detail. The unfeeling and unfocused darkness in poppop's eyes that consumed the man she'd loved and left nothing behind. Sammy's eyes were a soft hazel, the nice flicker of green so full of the essence that made Sammy Lawrence who he was. What Norman saw instead of those pretty peepers were dark pools, a sickly grayish brown with flecks of blackness like tar. Like ink... Norman completely forgot what he was to say. He couldn't bring himself to talk when he saw the same thing that had tormented his nanna's dreams. It just wasn't right.

-

     Joey Drew was up to something, and Sammy was involved somehow. By his own volition, Norman wasn't too sure. The kid was acting mighty strange since Norman had noticed his eyes had inexplicably changed color, and whatever progress for positive change he'd made was completely gone. If anything, Sammy had become an incredibly volatile and aggressive husk. Very few people noticed, which was what was so concerning.   "It can't be a coincidence... Joey barely showin' his face 'round the departments and Sammy actin' up like the devil bit him in the ass..." He'd paced as he watched Jack drink what was likely the 5th cup of coffee he'd in the morning.   "Whatever it is, Sammy's more enthusiastic about his songs for a change..." He sounded nonchalant about it. "He complained about all the pieces Drew forced him to change... Now he's less, angry about those. Seems to love them actually."   "Those little annoying jigs? He said they was garbage!"   "And they are. Putting lyrics to those was dang awful but... Well if he's happy, I'm happy..." Jack gave a weak smile before coughing a rather wet sounding cough. He took another sip of his coffee to sooth his throat.   "You comin' down with somethin'?"   "Must be... This gross cough has been popping up a lot. And my nose is awfully stuffy. Can't smell or taste nothing, which is good considering I gotta hide away in the sewers to work..." Norman huffs. People were getting sick from being forced to do overtime with no rest. Jack getting sick wasn't entirely out of the question. But the stench of something acrid coming from his mug did give him cause for concern. Best check to see if Wally hadn't accidentally stored the coffee beans with the cleaning supplies again. A week later he forgets about it once he instead finds himself making a list of the people he stops seeing around the Studio not long after he noticed something up with Joey and Sammy.

     There's Jack, who he hadn't noticed gone at first until he'd gone poking around the sewers and not caught sight of the shorter lyricist. There was Johnny Brokehart, who's organ was completely abandoned in its little corner. No one dared touch it, in case the man returned and found so much as a pipe out of place. There was Julian Whitaker, the tall gangly cellist that often sat with the resident art critic, that Vernon fellow who liked to stare at the cartoon posters like they were masterpieces on display at a museum. Susie Campbell had gone too. Wally insisted she hadn't quit, and was awfully worried about her. Allison and Thomas had also up and split after they'd made a scene at one of them fancy parties Joey used to get investors to dump money into his lap. Shawn Flynn, Grant Cohen, Bertrum Piedmont, Lacie Benton, Emma LaMonte... People were vanishing left and right and there was no say of them being fired. Norman had a theory, and he didn't like it one bit. He tried to do his best to inform the younger hires to run before something inevitably happened to them. He told Buddy and Dot it was dangerous, in as little words he could so not to let Joey catch wind of what he did know. He prayed to whatever god was out there that no bad befell those two kids. And then he'd grabbed his light and went down, where the groaning and moaning came from.

-

     Norman ran. Ran as fast as he could, trying not to look at the things trapped in those tubes. The creatures that were tall, gangly, and vaguely humanoid. Weeping faces pressed to the glass, begging to be let out. The disgusting sludge creatures, barely holding themselves together and clawing at the glass in obvious suffering. The thing that had Sammy's voice and that was rushing after him, axe in hand and Bendy mask covering its face. Screaming at him to accept the "Lord's" blessing. He ran and dodged strikes that nicked his elbows, his legs, grazed his ankle and back... He came to a full stop before what could only be described as a throne. Horrified to find something twisted that looked like a humanoid corpse-like Bendy bound in chains. And then he was knocked onto the floor, air escaping his lungs from the sudden collision. The Sammy thing was on top of him, overjoyed to have caught him. And then all around, Joey Drew's voice filled the room... The thing on the throne shook and hissed.   "Excellent... You know what to do Prophet. Baptize this non-believer in the name of your lord."   "Anything for you my lord. Anything!" Norman tried to fight him off, knocked that silly mask off his face even. Except there was no face. Not even eyes. Windows to the soul... If he had none, then did Sammy even have a soul anymore? The axe raised, and Norman Polk didn't even have time to scream before it plunged into his chest, destroyed his ribcage, and obliterated his heart.

[hysteriium]

The Irony of Fate [2]

Gif not mine! 

(A/N): Uhhh this gif kills me holy fuck LOOK AT HIM- UGH. OK, SORRY this took so long lmao, my writing has honestly been so slow lately. I’m trying to fix that but idk I guess it’s a work in process. ALSO!!!! I’m so GRATEFUL for y’all! You’ve all been so kind and supportive with the series, I honestly thought I was going to be swamped with hate! I’m really glad you’re all enjoying it, and love Arthur as much as I do. It’s really made me feel better about my shitty writing. So without further ado, I’ll let you read. Sorry for the monster essay! 

Summary: Arthur hated his life. That was no secret. He could pull out a list of the reasons why if someone had to ask. Perhaps he had pissed off fate really badly, a time he couldn’t seem to recall. Or perhaps, not that he believed in it, in a past life he had behaved so reprehensively that he was cursed for the entirety of his reincarnated existence. At this point, anything would make more sense than his continual bad luck - make more sense than his life. Was he doomed to be miserable for the rest of his time on earth? Or would the woman he spotted from his window instigate a rapid spiral of change?

Word Count: 3,400

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

Warnings: None! 

!! SPOILERS FOR ANYONE WHO HASN’T WATCHED THE MOVIE !! 

Anxiety coursed through (Y/n) like a turbulent storm, its rage coursing throughout her body, numbing her fingertips. Her mouth was abnormally dry and her attempts at swallowing - to try and lessen the prominence of the drought within, were all in vain. Counting down the seconds in her head silently, her jaw ticked. Large multicoloured drapes burned into her eyes, their bright colours harsh if looked at for too long. As she stood behind them, backstage, the familiar, upbeat music filled her ears, a tune she had known since teenagehood. In person, the arrangement of instruments beyond the curtains sounded different. It was raw. Loud. Unfiltered. The difference was something she found she prefered, it’s authenticity shining through. 

Despite the nostalgia, and the thrill of her dreams coming true, the song was hardly comforting, adding to the growing nausea in her stomach. Solidifying the presence of the knot within.  

The fact she was there was surreal. 

The crowd, in response to the anthem, went wild, clapping on cue, along with the song.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen!” Murray shouted. His renowned dance moves, which had him swinging to the beat, were perfectly timed. 

Although (Y/n) was shrouded by the massive curtains in front of her, she could practically hear the smirk on his face. Sickly sweet and, dare she say, sickly fake. While she was eternally grateful to be where she was, the disingenuity unsettled her. It rubbed her the wrong way. 

Good ratings meant more money, and more money meant fewer problems. 

“Now, tonight, we’ve got an extra special guest,” he said.

(Y/n) swallowed.

She felt her fingers twitch in anticipation while the majority of the public oohed at Murray’s news.

“She’s a gorgeous woman…” a handful whistled, earning a soft chuckle from the host, “though I must say, she has an even lovelier voice.”

“It’s quite funny actually, I met her on the street the other day. I was blown away when I first heard her performing. And...I usually don’t do this, but I just had to have her on the show. You all know how much I love talent.” 

“However, there was just one thing that left me confused. I asked her, ‘why on the streets?’” Murray gave a quizzical look, “with such a gift, you’d expect her to be in the clubs!” 

“She shrugged her shoulders and told me, ‘you gotta start somewhere’.” 

“Now while I respect that, starting from humble beginnings and all, I told her, ‘honey with a face like that, you don’t gotta go around singing on the streets for money,’ if you know what I mean.” 

The spectators laughed, and (Y/n) rolled her eyes in response. Suddenly, she was glad she was hidden. She wouldn’t want her annoyed expression to give the wrong impression. She didn’t want to be labelled. The last thing she needed was to wake up and read some shitty news article painting her as a ‘diva’ and ‘ungrateful’. Gotham thrived on negativity, so once that was out there, she’d never recover from the defaming blow. Sexist jokes or not, fighting up against one of the most dominant television personalities in Gotham, as well as the media, was a deathwish careerwise. 

“Now that’s enough from me, you’re all probably sick of my face. Please welcome, (Y/n)!” 

Swiftly, the live band played their tunes, signalling her entrance. Murray directed attention to the infamous curtains, his arms stretching, his fingers wiggling towards the material. Screams of joy echoed off the studio walls.

At the sound, her hands raced to her form-fitting black dress, smoothing out the wrinkles before the curtain opened. When they did, they were slow. A cringe formed its way onto her face as the pully system squeaked along. As ready as she’ll ever be, she cemented a smile, hiding the wince, and walked through the drapes, deciding against waiting. 

Feeling a little dramatic, her form hunched over into a bow. A leg darted behind the other, with one hand in front, another resting against her back. Wolf whistles decorated the air at her arrival, though they were promptly replaced with roaring laughter as she made her way towards Murray and planted two firm kisses on both of his cheeks. Eventually, the clacking of her heels signified movement from the older man as she moved to occupy the yellow chair next to Murray’s desk.

Murray made a face after her display of affection, a look although (Y/n) couldn’t see, with his back towards her, she knew it transpired because of the public’s response. She could only imagine the face: one of shock and surprise, or perhaps confidence, as he winked towards them. Either way, both weren’t hard to envision, and the thought made short, distinct, puffs of air release from her nose in amusement.  

Shortly, he followed her lead and took a seat behind his table. 

“You’ve got some flare kid,” Murray chuckled, and (Y/n) could tell a genuine smile had replaced the false one. A twinge of pride wriggled in her chest at the realisation. 

“Are you nervous?” Murray asked suddenly, his eyes flying to the hands in her lap, fidgeting, “you seem nervous.” 

She shot the audience a look, her teeth clenched as her eyebrows flew up. 

“Yeah,” was all she said, her tone coming out high and unsure. 

Laughter. 

“You’re already doing great. This your first time on live television?”  

The reminder that this was live exacerbated her anxiety, her leg threatening to bounce. The pressure was on; if she screwed up, everyone would remember. 

“Pretty much,” a hint of fear wavered her voice, and the laugh that followed was shaky, “this is really surreal.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he flicked his wrist at her, “it’ll be second nature the way you’re headed.”

Her hands flew up to her cheeks, a tinge of pink coating the area while she tittered, “thank you, but I’m not so sure of that.”

“So humble!” 

Murray adjusted himself in his chair, his leg crossing over his other. He leaned forward towards the singer, form angled away from the onlookers. His concentration was solely on her.  

“So (Y/n), what have you got planned for us tonight?” 

A diffident expression crossed the woman’s features as she recalled her song.

“One of my favourites. Put On a Happy Face by Tony Bennett.” 

Murray nodded.

“Interesting choice. But, a classic.” 

His formerly interlocked hands were thrown into the air, giving a signal to the band. At this, (Y/n) stood up from her seat, and headed towards the already arranged set up towards the end of the stage. Once she arrived, she gripped the cylindrical microphone with both hands, its body supported by a stand. The object was cool against her heated fingertips.

The music started, the funk infectious and the woman’s hips began to sway.

---- 

Arthur barely held the gasp within him when he gazed upon (Y/n) ’s form, her flattering black dress a spectacle to behold. Her bow, cute and pure, converted the gasp he was restraining into a lovestruck sigh. 

He was sold, struck by the arrow of the little rascal Cupid himself. 

She looked just as good on TV.

He found it endearing how honest she was, admitting to her nerves. In his eyes, she was genuine, not like the scum that riddled Gotham’s streets; not like those who laughed at him; not like Randall. 

Similar to a child who was urgent to take in his favourite cartoon, he moved himself closer to the screen, a meter away at best, as he sat cross-legged. The tickling sensation of excitement shot throughout his slender body. 

As the music started playing, the overly happy tune seized him. When the camera panned on (Y/n) ’s walking form, he took in every little detail. The sigh she let out when she reached the microphone. The wobbling of her hands, which she tried to hide by clutching the device. The movement of her throat, suggesting a swallow. The jaw that clicked. 

Arthur saw it all.

Then, she started singing. 

Gray skies are gonna clear up

Put on a happy face

Brush off the clouds and cheer up

Put on a happy face

The spectators interjected, drowning out a portion of the lyrics as they released sounds of support. 

As Arthur leant into his tv screen, he was absolutely convinced nothing could deter his eyes, his hypnosis. Not even the whining of his mum, who had been entirely obstructed from viewing the screen.

He hadn’t even realised she was there, he’d forgotten all about her.  

Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy

It’s not your style

You’ll look so good that you’ll be glad

You decide to smile

Arthur wished he was there in the room with (Y/n). In the crowd. To see her pretty (e/c) eyes glance over him and shoot him a wink. Or perhaps a smile. Anything - like the acknowledgement she gave him days prior. Just something to know that he really existed. That he wasn’t riding through life like a doormat - invisible, stepped on, beaten up and chucked around. No one really noticed the object, nor cared to, as it dejectedly rested below the door. Day after day.

Pick out a pleasant outlook

Stick out that noble chin

Wipe off that “full of doubt” look

Slap on a happy grin

Arthur began to grin when she saw her nerves were starting to leave her. Oh, how badly he wanted to applaud her. Encourage her. 

And spread sunshine all over the place

And put on a happy face

One hand released the microphone, moving to her face as she traced the outline of her upturned lips, a short, accidental giggle slipping out. It made Arthur’s heart swell! 

The band complemented her style perfectly. Their contrasting deep voices were melodic as they harmonised with her humming. 

Gray skies are gonna clear up

Put on a happy face

Brush off the clouds and cheer up

Put on a happy face

Arthur found his form lightly swaying to the tune, his grin extending from ear to ear, impossibly deeper.  

She was really into it now, and he could tell she could feel the music rushing through her, now a conduit for the art. When he saw the confidence which had manifested, growing with each passing second, his mind swarmed with joy, his mind conjuring a bundle of soothing words he noiselessly projected through the cubic barrier before them - to her. 

And if you’re feeling cross and bickerish

Don’t sit and whine

Think of banana splits and licorice

And you’ll feel fine

She disconnected the microphone from the stand, bringing it under her chin. Quickly she departed from her spot with a small spin, strutting across the rest of the stage - something that got the fans rowdy; wooing. Her body swung to the beat, shoulders moving with her.

I knew a girl so gloomy

She’d never laugh or sing

She wouldn’t listen to me

Now she’s a mean old thing

Now incredibly expressive - antithetical from when she first began - she accompanied her singing by miming the lyrics. A fist rocked below her eyes imitating tears in a burlesque manner, and a fake frown contorted her features. Though, no matter how sad she pretended to be, Arthur knew just by the twinkle in her eyes that she was bursting with happiness.   

So spread sunshine all over the place

And put on a happy, happy face

Put on a happy, happy, happy face

During the final verse, she had moved closer to the camera, dragging out the closing note with a high. 

Oh, come on bubby, smile, it’s your birthday!

She made direct eye contact with the lens and winked. 

Arthur’s chest tightened at the action, and he couldn’t help but take it personally; as if the playful act was directly meant to be for him. Him and only him. 

Applause nearly deafened Arthur as it reverberated around the room, projecting shockingly loud for such a small device. Scrambling, his hands tried to lower the volume. Unfortunately, in his rush, his clumsy hands instead knocked up against another button, changing the channel entirely in the process. 

Regrettably for Arthur, the noise emitted only worsened. Although the tv was no longer on the Murray Franklin show, it was now on a channel playing an old war movie. Explosions and the earthshaking noises of artillery filled his crappy apartment, gunfire jolting his poor, unexpecting form. Letting out his shock with a shout, and a string of curses, his hands automatically moved to cover his ears - a reaction he midway stopped; gaining some control, he felt the device vibrate beneath his fingertips when they finally discovered the volume button. When he had readjusted the strength, he returned back to the station, free from the clamour, the show now on commercial break. 

He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. 

Why was he so fucking clumsy? 

Even the smallest things he couldn’t seem to get right. 

Gentle snoring shifted his awareness from his self-deprecating mental exchange, and when he looked over to the noise, he saw his mother asleep in her chair. Her head was tilted against her shoulder, her mouth open. It was a sight that made him laugh through his nose; something that managed to halt the negativity which began to swarm in his mind, like a vicious cloud of hornets. 

Arthur didn’t know how his mother could one minute be the lightest sleeper on earth, then the next, swing to the other extreme. It was a miracle she slept through his fuck up, but then again, if she were in a deep sleep, he was confident enough to bet she’d sleep through a natural disaster. 

It was honestly impressive.

Emitting a soft groan as his palms pushed himself up from his sitting position, he trailed from one end of his apartment to the other. He opened one of the squeaking cabinets near the bathroom, the small storage space containing miscellaneous items. Though, it mostly harboured their modest collection of towels and blankets. As his eyes skimmed the shelves, from top to bottom, they soon fell onto what he was searching for. On the very bottom, his hands gripped onto an old quilt. It was soft to touch, though when he moved to collect it, he felt small pricks against his flesh as his arms maneuvered to fit its length. 

Feathers. 

The floral pattern, which was a chaotic blend of reds, pinks, whites and cremes was gaudy and straining to look at. Arthur guessed it was a victorian design, and it was quite apparent that it was a style he wasn’t fond of. He didn’t think he ever understood the things his mother liked. It was definitely a selective taste.  

Shaking away his absentmindedness, and the staredown he was giving the blanket in his hand, he moved back to the living room, rounding behind his mother’s chair as he gently placed the cover against her. She was still snoring, some of them morphing into snorts. He honestly did try to contain his giggling, but most of it slipped out. To try and lessen the ache in her neck she was bound to wake up with tomorrow, he lastly righted her position. 

The upbeat music coming from the tv began again, letting Arthur know his favourite show had returned. Hurried, his lips pressed up against his sleeping mother’s forehead before returning back to his spot in front of the tube.  

“Welcome back, everyone! If you’re just tuning in, we have the lovely (Y/n) with us.”

For what was probably the 100th time, the crowd responded to Murray, who was sitting back at his desk, gaze set towards the camera. 

“And I’ve got good news for you, kid!”

(Y/n) looked up at the host from her chair, eyebrows furrowing. 

“What do you-” 

Murray interrupted. 

“I’ve set you up with a few clubs. We can’t let talent like yours go on without reward, it would be a disservice. On behalf of Gotham city, I think we can all agree we need some joy in these troubling times, and your presence just seems to radiate it.”

(Y/n) was evidently stunned. Suddenly, to her, some of his awful jokes had been worth it. 

“This isn’t a prank, right?” she turned to the audience, eyes expanded wholly making the audience explode into chuckles. Arthur found himself joining in. 

“I assure you lovely, we wouldn’t do that to ya.” 

“Your first gigs gonna be at Pogo’s comedy club. And yes, although it is a comedy club, they’ve made an exception. It’s best to start small and work your way up into the bigger names.”

Arthur’s chest constricted. 

He went there all the time! 

He could see her perform!

Talk to her! 

Finally have the chance to introduce himse-

“So what do you say, darling?” Murray piped up, his eyes giving her an encouraging glance.

Arthur leaned forward, nose about to touch the screen in anticipation.

Her hands found her cheeks as she tried to conceal the spreading heat. Even in darkness, she was convinced the crimson flush would be bright enough to light up the room. While Murray had said a few off comments here and there, things she didn’t agree with, he truly had been welcoming to her. She thought maybe, just maybe, she had been too harsh on him.   

“I-I don’t know what to say?!” 

Please say yes - please say yes - please say yes. 

“You could say, yes?” Murray shot her a playful look.  

The woman finally nodded, adrenaline and joy manipulating her quaking frame, “yes! Yes! Thank you so much!” 

Arthur’s fists shook in the air, a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding, released.

(Y/n) got up from her seat, shooting up like a rocket as she made her way behind Murray’s desk. He followed her actions and removed himself from his chair, and accepted the hug she pulled him into with a ‘whoa’.

“Well, there you have it, folks! Pogo’s, Friday night, at seven. Be there or be square!” 

With a little whisper to (Y/n), she was sent off, back to the area with the microphone. 

“Goodnight, tune in next time, and always remember-”

Instantly, the legendary keyboard tune started playing, and (Y/n) prepared herself to sing once more. 

“-that’s life!” Arthur mimicked.

For one final performance, the camera panned away from Murray, setting on (Y/n) as the credits rolled. Arthur relished in the sound, the lyrics hitting his very soul. 

That’s life (that’s life), that’s what people say

You’re riding high in April, shot down in May

But, I know I’m gonna change that tune

When I’m back on top, back on top in June

I said, that’s life, (that’s life), and as funny as it may seem

Some people get their kicks,

Stompin’ on a dream

But I don’t let it, let it get me down

Cause, this fine old world it keeps spinning around

He sunk into the numbing feeling of the lyrics, forcing himself to close his eyes. He didn’t even realise the song was nearing its end until she reached the final verse.  

My, My!

With the expression of dazed euphoria, Arthur opened his eyes, watching her part from the microphone, the credits now over. 

“Thank you,” was the only thing she said, her beaming expression the last thing Arthur saw. 

The show ended. 

Arthur, who was abandoned by the gentle, radiant hue of the cube before him, was consumed by the darkness. It dwelled within the room as the device had been switched off by his lingering hand. 

He didn’t know how long he sat in silence for. His mother had finally stopped snoring.

He didn’t want to watch television; didn’t feel like it. He wanted to soak in the episode he’d just witnessed - flick through the memorable moments for the rest of the night. 

He wanted to think about what he’d say to (Y/n) when he finally met her officially - he wanted it to be perfect. While the little wave she gave him days ago would have been such an insignificant action to most, it wasn’t to Arthur. It was real.

And the fact that he knew it was, reeled him in like an unsuspecting fish speeding to bait. 

Well and truly, Arthur was bewitched.

The sombre air surrounding him - a mood that always seemed to cling to him - and the dim blue hue which encompassed his apartment, strangely didn’t feel so bad for once. Hell, he didn’t feel so bad for once.

With the image of her smile repeating in his head, he didn’t feel so...

Alone.