#and left <3 no investigation no meddling no nothing <3 who is she to get in the way of a fellow girlboss just trying to make a living ✌

[vancalox]

third playthru antics so far involve gale agreeing to the hag's bargain and getting his eye fucked up in the process <3 and tbh i actually think this is the funniest possible choice they could make as a party since they all dismiss ethel's "netherese magic BLEUGH" reveal as just a symptom of gale already having that shit in his system. like its too much of a coincidence for something so ancient and mythic to happen TWICE to the SAME random guy so theyre all like yeah no shit !!!! gale is the netherese guy !!!! we knew that like a week ago idiot !!!!! foresight is not a gift im givng these people i am so sorry king </3

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 3

A/N As promised, Jamie returns in this chapter.  He has an appointment to keep, after all.   Because I can’t think of anything more creative, this chapter is entitled “Second Appointment”.  For previous chapters, your best bet is to check out the story on my AO3 page.

The week both crept and flew past, like one of those dreams in which she ran until her lungs burned, but never managed to get anywhere.  Kinetic motion trapped in amber.   Claire never did tell Geillis about her excursion to Corstorphine Hill over the weekend, embarrassed by how it had ended.  

And now it was Thursday.  She’d opted for a protein smoothie for lunch, a meal with no chance of leaving leafy residue between her teeth.  It was likely wasted vanity.  As two o’clock drew near, she bargained with herself to abandon any hope she may be harbouring.  Jamie Fraser had shown no interest in participating in the psychiatric process during his first appointment.  Fraternal obligation had brought him to her office once, but he didn’t strike her as a man who yielded the reins of his life easily.  It wasn’t likely he would return.

When it came his distinctive knock, crisp and insistent, caught her unawares, even though she’d just been staring at his name in her planner.  She hastily pushed the items on her desk to one side, patted uselessly at her curls, and called out for him to enter.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Beauchamp,” he greeted cautiously.  “Miss Duncan told me tae come straight in.”

There was something different about him today.  His clothing, certainly.  Instead of casual wear, he wore trousers and a button down, wet splotches over the shoulders attesting to the fact that it had begun raining again.  And while he still took up an inordinate amount of space in her small office, he seemed... diminished, somehow.  A paler echo of the fireworks display of his first visit.

“Of course.  Please have a seat, Mister Fraser.”

“Jamie, if you will,” he corrected as he settled gingerly into the armchair.  “Mister Fraser was my Da.”

Something about his tone and the fact his laser blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own as he spoke the words caused her to lean into his statement.

“Did your father pass away recently, Jamie?”

A moment, an indrawn breath of panic, and then it was cleverly masked with a wry glance.

“Aye, last year.  An’ yer no’ very subtle, doctor.”

“I didn’t realize subtlety was called for,” she parried.  “You made another appointment, and I specialize in grief counselling.  Why else would you be here?”

Despite the fact that it wasn’t productive from a psychiatric point of view, she enjoyed his reluctance to hastily expose his inner demons.  Too often, her practice required her to work carefully in order to avoid shaping the pliable emotions of her patients.  While obviously hurting, Jamie had an unflinching, unalterable quality that she admired.  Not to mention that the intellectual game of cat and mouse they were playing was wildly stimulating.

“I suppose I enjoyed our conversation,” Jamie teased.  “An’ Miss Duncan’s shortbread.”

With an awkward squint that she imagined was meant to be a wink, her patient rose to investigate the current offerings on her tea table.

“Och, petit fours!” he exclaimed with childlike glee and perfect French pronunciation.  “There was a café none too far from my flat in Paris tha’ made these.  I’d often grab some on my way tae the office.”

He returned to the desk with a small plate of the pastries, pushing it towards her as he settled into his seat.

“No, thank you.  I’ve just eaten.”

Like a searchlight, his bright eyes didn’t miss much.  He glanced significantly at the half-empty plastic smoothie container to one side of her desk.  Rather than chide her for her austerity, as Geillis frequently did, he instead made a show of biting into each of the four little squares until there was nothing left but crumbs.  Her stomach muttered in complaint.

“What did you do in Paris?” she asked as he finished his snack with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a wee bit of this and that,” he demurred.  In response to her exasperated look, he continued, “I started out at the Bourse.  Futures, options, arbitrage, that sort of thing.  I have a good ear fer languages, sae from there I went into foreign exchange.  Import export, and the like.”

“You’re a financier?” she asked, somewhat more incredulous than she ought to be.  She wasn’t certain what she had pictured James Fraser doing for a living, but greasing the wheels of capitalism definitely wasn’t it.

“Was,” he corrected.  “I quit an’ came home tae Scotland last year.”

“When your father died,” she guessed.

“Aye.”

She once again had the sense of standing in front of a locked door that Jamie had no intention of opening.  Rather than hammer uselessly on its stubborn surface, she nimbly diverted the conversation sideways.

“What do you do for work now?”

A slow blink followed by a dawning smile indicated he was aware of her stratagem.

“I’m a carpenter.”

It was rare for Claire to be truly surprised by people.  She made a living reading their unspoken cues.  Twice in the same conversation was unheard of.

“A carpenter?” she repeated as though she hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“Aye.  Like Jesus, ye ken?”

With a quicksilver grin, Jamie launched into a description of his current occupation, which involved the making of reproduction antiques and custom pieces for clients around Scotland.  She realized with a start that she’d read an article about his business in a popular local magazine.  

International financier.  Self-made entrepreneur.  Tall drink of water.  James Fraser had a lot of things going for him.  And yet here he sat, paying her by the hour to listen to him avoid talking about whatever hardship had befallen him.

She mentally composed a list of the topics he was deftly avoiding with his charming anecdotes.  His father’s recent death.  The reason behind a radical change in career.  Living in the city on account of unspoken ‘family obligations’, even though his verbal reminiscence of the Highlands was so poetic it damn near made her cry.  There was something raw just below the surface of his nonchalance, and her innate curiosity cried out to find out what it was.

“You told me last week that your sister, Jenny, insisted you attend counselling.  But you said that you’re handling matters fine on your own.  Can you tell me why your sister believes otherwise?”

It might have been amusing to see such a large man squirm in different circumstances.  His left hand furrowed through his hair, setting the autumn waves on end.  His mouth, so recently relaxed and mobile as he eagerly shared the details of his craft, froze in a pained frown.  She considered whether she had pushed too hard too soon.

“I gave a lot of thought tae what ye said when we parted last week,” Jamie began at last.  “Tae be honest, it haunted me.  Jen kens me better than anyone, an’ while I like tae complain tha’ she meddles where she doesna belong, the truth is she’s truly scared fer me.  An’ even if I dinna agree tha’ my lifestyle is cause fer concern, I owe it tae her tae try tae sort myself out.  I owe her far more than that,” he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

“What kind of lifestyle has your sister so worried?” she probed.

“Whisky, women and song,” he quipped, before adding, “Weel, I canna carry a tune, but twa out of three isna half bad.”

He tried to smile away the awkward tension that descended on the office, the air ripe with unspoken words.  Claire felt disappointment whirlpool in her gut.  Just another charming rake, after all.  It really shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did.  More than she dared to admit.

“Yes, well, the road of excess leads to the palace of consequences, ” she sniffed at last, angry at herself for sounding like a schoolmarm.  What a bore she must seem to him, with her regimented behaviour and rigid morals.

Jamie rose abruptly, and for a half-second she imagined he might lunge at her, or storm from the room.   Instead, he spun around to face the door.  Without a word, he untucked his shirt and began to expose his lower back.

Claire was momentarily stunned silent.  Just as she managed to draw a deep enough breath to censure Jamie for his highly inappropriate strip tease, the golden velour of his lower back transformed without warning into a furrowed landscape of scar tissue, ripples and craters left by some massive trauma.  The air left her lungs on a questioning sigh.

“I ken all about consequences, Doctor Beauchamp,” he stated.  “I live with them every moment of my life.”

Her fingers found the knotted skin, surprisingly warm and mobile beneath her touch.  A shiver shimmered over the unmarred muscle of his flanks.

Before she could find any appropriate words of apology, the office door opened and Geillis stuck her head in.  She barked a cough upon seeing Jamie’s state of undress and Claire’s position, leaning across her desk.  Doctor and patient jumped apart like opposing magnets.

“Sae sorry for the interruption, but yer three o’clock is here.  Should I tell her ye’ve been... delayed?”

Jamie muttered an obscenity under his breath which Claire whole-heartedly seconded.  There was no way Geillis wasn’t going to be utterly insufferable about this.

“Mister Fraser was just leaving, Geillis.”

With a lewd wink and a nod, the door closed.

“Look, Jamie...” she began just as he apologized.  “I’m sae sorry, lass.”

They both laughed nervously.  Jamie finished tucking his shirt into his pants and turned to face the desk.

“I hope this willna cause ye any difficulties with Miss Duncan,” he began, eyes wide with concern.

“No more so than usual,” she sighed. “Geillis is a good friend.  She just... doesn’t know when to quit, sometimes,” she explained.

“Sounds jus’ like my sister.  Perhaps we should introduce them.”

She smiled, struggling to find something else to say to move past the moment.  She could hear Geillis and her next patient conversing just outside the door.  There was no time left for subtlety.

“Will I see you again next week, Jamie?” she asked, giving up on finding a more oblique way of phrasing the question that was reverberating through her mind.

Jamie’s bashful smile dipped towards the floor, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

“Aye.  I’ll even keep my clothes on, if ye ask nicely.”

It was that smile, that hair, those eyes, that carried her through the rest of her week, aloft on the anticipation of something utterly forbidden.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 6

Hi , do you got any fluffy johnlock with cuddling

(submitted by here-4-tha-ship)

Anonymous asked: hiii got any johnlock fics where sherlock wants a hug but he feels embarrassed to ask john? thank you sm <3

—–

Hi Lovelies!! I sure do! And enough to do a new list too!! So thank you, people don’t ask for this enough these days hahhah! Hope you enjoy!!

See also:

Hugs & Cuddles and Tooth-Rotting Fluff (Pt. 2)

Hugs & Cuddles Pt. 2 /…/

…/ Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 /…

Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 4 

Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 5

A Better Fate Than Wisdom by flawedamythyst (G, 1,339 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, John’s Sexuality Crisis, Pining Sherlock, Happy Ending, Fluff) – Nearly four hours pass between their first kiss and their second.

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4,  5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin (E, 15,213 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Rugby as Foreplay, Porn with Lots of Plot, John POV, Ogling, Body Appreciation, Cranky Sherlock, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Touching, Heavy Petting, Blow Job, Botttomlock) – In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[rockislandadultreads]

More Book Recs: For Fans of Only Murders in the Building

I Know You Know by Gilly Macmillan

Twenty years ago, eleven-year-olds Charlie Paige and Scott Ashby were murdered in the city of Bristol, their bodies dumped near a dog racing track. A man was convicted of the brutal crime, but decades later, questions still linger. For his whole life, filmmaker Cody Swift has been haunted by the deaths of his childhood best friends. The loose ends of the police investigation consume him so much that he decides to return to Bristol in search of answers. Hoping to uncover new evidence, and to encourage those who may be keeping long-buried secrets to speak up, Cody starts a podcast to record his findings. But there are many people who don’t want the case - along with old wounds - reopened so many years after the tragedy, especially Charlie’s mother, Jess, who decides to take matters into her own hands. When a long-dead body is found in the same location the boys were left decades before, the disturbing discovery launches another murder investigation. Now Detective John Fletcher, the investigator on the original case, must reopen his dusty files and decide if the two murders are linked. With his career at risk, the clock is ticking and lives are in jeopardy…

Dial A for Aunties by Jesse Q. Sutanto

What happens when you mix 1 (accidental) murder with 2 thousand wedding guests, and then toss in a possible curse on 3 generations of an immigrant Chinese-Indonesian family? You get 4 meddling Asian aunties coming to the rescue! When Meddelin Chan ends up accidentally killing her blind date, her meddlesome mother calls for her even more meddlesome aunties to help get rid of the body. Unfortunately, a dead body proves to be a lot more challenging to dispose of than one might anticipate, especially when it is inadvertently shipped in a cake cooler to the over-the-top billionaire wedding Meddy, her Ma, and aunties are working at an island resort on the California coastline. It's the biggest job yet for the family wedding business - "Don't leave your big day to chance, leave it to the Chans!" - and nothing, not even an unsavory corpse, will get in the way of her auntie's perfect buttercream flowers. But things go from inconvenient to downright torturous when Meddy's great college love—and biggest heartbreak—makes a surprise appearance amid the wedding chaos. Is it possible to escape murder charges, charm her ex back into her life, and pull off a stunning wedding all in one weekend?

Conviction by Denise Mina

It’s just a normal morning when Anna's husband announces that he's leaving her for her best friend and taking their two daughters with him. With her safe, comfortable world shattered, Anna distracts herself with someone else's story: a true-crime podcast. That is until she recognizes the name of one of the victims and becomes convinced that only she knows what really happened. With nothing left to lose, she throws herself into investigating the case. But little does she know, Anna's past and present lives are about to collide, sending everything she has worked so hard to achieve into freefall.

The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman

Four septuagenarians with a few tricks up their sleeves A female cop with her first big case A brutal murder Welcome to… The Thursday Murder Club In a peaceful retirement village, four unlikely friends meet weekly in the Jigsaw Room to discuss unsolved crimes; together they call themselves The Thursday Murder Club. Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim, and Ron might be pushing eighty but they still have a few tricks up their sleeves. When a local developer is found dead with a mysterious photograph left next to the body, the Thursday Murder Club suddenly find themselves in the middle of their first live case. As the bodies begin to pile up, can our unorthodox but brilliant gang catch the killer, before it’s too late?

[official-weasley]

Charlie's Helping Hand

A/N: For all who don't know @am-i-space and I are (healthily obsessed) with freckled gingers who steal your heart because they are adorable and pure! Two of those are the one and only Charlie Weasley and Commander Gren from The Dragon Prince.

We have made up quite a few stories about them (separate and together) and about a month ago we came up with Charlie being friends with Gren and Amaya. @am-i-space had the idea for a drawing of the 3 of them at once and without really knowing we were doing it, we started working together on this little project below my rambling!

After definitely not losing their mind about the eyes and Charlie's hair EVEN ONCE and me finally getting the inspiration for how to bring Charlie into a different universe, we are ready to post it!

As you might've figured by now the drawing below this author's note belongs to the beautiful, talented and amazing @am-i-space who pleasantly surprised me with every draft piece I received of this drawing and the story behind how this drawing "came to be" belongs to yours truly.

PS. Read to the end to find out how this beautiful piece of art came to existence in the story 💙🖤

“Charlie, you are going to love Katolis.” Gren grinned at his friend as they were walking up the path that will take them back to Gren's homeland.

“I love traveling so I think I will have no problem with it,” Charlie smiled back at him, “and besides you said that it's full of magic and dragons just roam free. It's like you are describing a dream.”

“It wasn't always like that. Dragons were feared and people and magic folk didn't know how to live together.” Gren sighed, remembering the days before their land became one.

“Right, king Ezran and his brother were running away from an elf assassin and they found an egg and joined forces to return it to its mother.” Charlie narrowed his eyes, trying to get the facts straight.

—

It's been almost two years since the great battle at the Storm Spire. The dragon queen has awakened and Zym was finally reunited with his mother. She took care of him, taught him how to fly better – even though Ez did an incredible job already. She also showed her son how to roar and how to use his electric breath.

Xadia was one land again and it thrived like never before. The magic spread to the Five Kingdoms and the people and the magic folk could move freely without sneaking around and fear each other.

Everything was perfect until one day when the dragon prince went flying and got caught up in a giant storm. Because he was still struggling to control his wing movement – when the winds were strong – he got caught up in a whirl and got smashed into a mountain.

Azymondias was found by his mother after she went looking for him as he didn't return home. At first, he appeared to be fine but when the queen wanted to take him flying she noticed that one of his wings was damaged. She sought help from the king of Katolis and his friends.

King Ezran's heart was broken when he found out and gathered a party to visit Zym at once. He couldn't believe it was even worse than he imagined it would be – all of Zym's bones in his left wing were broken and no matter how many elves and how many mages they gathered, nothing could mend his wing.

It seemed that all was lost and that the dragon prince will never be able to fly until one night when Commander Gren was finally ready to talk about his experience of being locked up in the castle dungeon by lord Viren.

He told his best friend general Amaya about everything he heard and seen happening. With his help, they were able to find the coins in which Viren stored souls and with the help of a high mage from the kingdom of Duren their lives were restored and Runaan was safely returned to his husband Ethari and his adopted niece Rayla.

Because Gren found it hard to talk about the whole situation and would gladly completely forget about the horrid experience, he decided to visit Runaan at his home in Silvergrove.

Every time Gren woke up in the middle of the night, having a nightmare that he was back in that dungeon, he felt like he was missing something. He knew that Viren was going down there for a reason and not just to interrogate Runaan. The thoughts kept him awake and he tried his hardest to remember where he was going and if he heard any noises that would help him figure it out.

As Gren expected, Runaan wasn't keen on talking about his experience in the castle of Katolis either but when Gren explained his feelings and the need to talk about it and to help him find out what was happening while they were there, Runaan put his feelings aside and decided to share his part of the story.

When Runaan told Gren about the weird questions Viren was asking him about a mirror and what does it do and how important it had to be for the lord because he seemed very frustrated when he didn't get his answers, Gren decided that it was time to put his fear aside and head down to the dungeons once more.

After telling Amaya everything and informing her of his plan to go and investigate – being so sure that the guards missed something when they rescued him – Amaya wanted to go with him.

She knew Gren more than anyone and it still pained her to this day that she was so far away when everything Viren was doing back at the castle went down that she simply couldn't allow him to relive that alone. She knew Gren was brave and just about the most optimistic and cheerful person she will ever have a chance to meet but she also knew that behind his bubbly personality Gren was hiding all the negative feelings and the trauma of what he went through in those few weeks while being down there.

She knew there will be no way of stopping Gren from going because he has never been so sure that something Viren was hiding down there could help Zym so instead of arguing with her lieutenant she decided to go with him.

As always when they go on a mission they geared up – better be too safe than sorry – and headed to the dungeons.

Before they opened the door that led to the lower parts of the castle, Amaya turned to Gren one more time.

Are you really sure you want to do this? She signed.

I am. I have to see what is down there or I will never have a peaceful night's rest. Gren signed back, his brows furrowed in determination.

Amaya just nodded, admiring how brave her best friend was for facing his problem head-on, and opened the door.

They walked down the stairs and came to the place where Gren was cuffed.

Amaya gave him a worried look while Gren avoided looking at her and the wall he was chained to. Taking a deep breath he first headed to where he knew Runaan was kept. They only found an empty cell with a small window with bars on it so they headed in the other direction.

They have been looking around, opening doors to empty cells for about half an hour until Gren tried turning the knob of a wooden door and it didn't open.

He exchanged a look with Amaya who nodded to him that he should force-open it with his foot. Gren did as he was told but the door still didn't move.

Amaya frowned – not liking when something didn't go her way – so she stepped next to Gren and counting to 3 on her fingers they repeated the action together. The door gave way to their force and they stumbled inside.

The room was a bit bigger than the others they have found. It was windowless making it completely dark with only a small wooden table, a chair, and something covered with a cloth.

Is this it? Amaya signed at Gren who was observing the covered artifact with his mouth slightly opened.

Gren could only muster a small nod. Amaya knew that this was hard on Gren and even though her curiosity was growing she gave him the time to make the step toward it and uncover the object.

The commander shook his head to collect his thoughts and swallowed thickly before approaching it. He lifted his arm slowly, grabbed the cloth, and pulled it down. Amaya and Gren both gasped, not prepared to see a mirror in front of them.

At the first glance, it looked like any other mirror, but then something shone inside it and their reflections disappeared. They saw what looked like an empty office or a library. They knew at once that this was no ordinary mirror and that it would be best if they don't meddle with it but call in someone who might better know what this mirror is for or better yet what it does.

After a month of searching and inviting the best mages in the whole land, including elves from all parts of Xadia, they figured out that the mirror served as a prison in another realm for a startouch elf. They were able to find an elf that knew of startouch elves and who they were.

The only one of their kind the king of Katolis and his aunt Amaya knew was Aaravos who they had to fight to keep Zym alive at the battle that brought them peace. Since lord Viren was associated with Aaravos it was only reasonable that he was the one who was inside the mirror.

King Ezran wasn't delighted to find out that this wasn't the last they would hear of the elf and wanted to resolve the mystery behind the mirror at once.

“You mean the little bug that turned into an elf with a bigger bug around his shoulder?” Soren asked, perplexed when Ezran was telling him, Callum, Corvus, and Opeli what was going on.

“Do you know anything about him?” Ezran gasped, encouraging Soren to tell him more.

“Well, not really. Father was very secretive about him. I remember when we were marching to Lux Aurea he was talking to the little bug on his ear. If my memory isn't deceiving me, Viren was telling him about how he and your dad, Ezran, defeated the dragon king.” Soren said, rubbing his chin and trying to remember more.

“Why would Aaravos want to know about that?” Opeli failed to understand.

“Perhaps he was trapped in the mirror when that happened?” Corvus suggested.

“Viren sounded very proud of his accomplishment, speaking with the voice he uses when he brags about something to someone for who he thinks he did them a favor.” Soren continued.

“Why would killing Zym's dad be a favor to Aaravos?” Ezran thought out loud.

“No!” Callum gasped and stood up.

“What? What did you remember?” Ezran wanted to know.

“No, it's too farfetched.” Callum swung his hand for them to stop paying attention to him.

“No, no. Do tell,” Opeli encouraged him, “perhaps you are onto something.”

“Well,” Callum cleared his throat, “would it be possible that the dragon king had something to do with Aaravos' imprisonment inside the mirror?”

“Get aunt Amaya and gather the elves and the mages again! We have to discuss this!” Ezran stood up and gave the order to Soren and Corvus who nodded and rushed out of the throne room at once.

“It would be possible for the dragon king to entrap the elf inside a mirror.” The high mage of Bel Dur said after hearing the proposal from prince Callum.

“However,” a mage from Neolandia cut in, “in order to do that Thunder would need someone from the realm on the other side of the mirror to help him, making your idea invalid.”

“Why?” King Ezran wanted to know.

“Well, to do that sort of powerful magic, the dragon king would have to have a dragon on the other side of the mirror from which to draw that kind of power.” The mage explained.

“Why would that make my idea invalid?” Callum asked.

“Because there is no such thing as dragons in other realms,” the mage said confidently.

“An hour ago you didn't even know there were other realms and now you are trying to convince us that in those other places dragons can't exist?” Opeli raised her eyebrows.

“Alright,” the mage sighed, “let's say that a place where Aaravos was entrapped does have dragons, how exactly does this help us with the dragon prince's wing?”

“Don't you get it?” Ezran stood up. “Nobody in Xadia can help Zym and this other realm could be full of dragons. What if there is someone who could heal Zym? What if they possess just the magic we would need to help Zym fly again?”

“You do have a point, your majesty,” the high mage of Bel Dur bowed to the king, “however...”

“However, how do we know whoever lives on the other side isn't a threat to us? To the dragon prince, to our kingdoms? Who is to say that they would be willing to help us?” The mage interrupted him.

King Ezran decided to call a meeting with the dragon queen to ask her if she could confirm their speculations and wasn't all that surprised when she told him that it was the dragon king who imprisoned Aaravos in a realm called Earth where magic works differently than in Xadia and despite Aaravos being the strongest and the most ancient of elves, he wouldn't be able to use their type of magic.

After much deliberation, king Ezran has decided to take the risk and explore the realm on the other side of the mirror.

“We have to help Zym. No one in the whole Xadia could mend his wing and we have to try. We can't have the dragon prince not be able to fly. I know it's dangerous and a lot of you will think that I am making a rash decision based on my feelings and me being a kid, but this is how I decided and I am willing to take the risk for Xadia and our kingdom.” Ezran said, his brows together in determination. “We needed years of war and conflict to unite our lands together again and if we aren't willing to help and take the risks needed to move forward then we are back at the beginning and I will not allow that to happen.”

The crown guards and the king's advisors nodded, agreeing with him, while some of the mages from other kingdoms had their reservations.

In the end, it didn't matter as only a day later were they gathering a team courageous enough to walk through the mirror and seek help.

You want to do what? Amaya was signing as fast as her fingers allowed her, frowning at the idea Gren just proposed.

I need to go. I feel that I need to go. I had the feeling about the mirror and look where it brought us. Gren tried convincing her.

You did enough, Gren. Amaya pleaded.

It's been so nice to have him by her side again after being separated on so many occasions during the war and now it will happen again and Amaya wasn't sure she can let it happen.

Soren is going. I have to try. This could be my chance to prove that I am not only good at interpreting.

Nobody is saying that Gren, and you know it.

You never protested so much before, what has gotten into you? Gren wanted to frown but his expression softened instead, looking at his best friend.

I guess I got used to the fact of you being by my side again. Amaya moved her fingers slowly as if she was hesitant to admit this.

���Oh.” Gren breathed out loud before stepping closer to Amaya and pulling her into a hug.

I know. I feel the same but please give me a chance to do this. I will be back before you know it.

Gren bestowed Amaya with one of his warming smiles to which she never could stop her lips from curving too.

Alright, but promise me you'll be safe and cautious. She playfully nudged him in the ribs before hugging him again and saying goodbye.

The next day Gren, accompanied by 5 of Ezran's most trusted crown guards – including Soren – and a mage made their way down to the dungeons once again to walk through the mirror and seek help from the other side.

It took 7 mages to figure out how the mirror works and how to get the crew through it. They warned them they will have a small window to do this that's why they couldn't take more people.

Gren was standing in front of the mirror – the last one to be transported through it.

“Here we go,” he whispered to himself, took a deep breath, and without turning his head to see his best friend one more time, disappeared.

—

“And this is where I come in.” Charlie wiggled his nose, trying to hide that he was nervous as Gren told him the story for the fourth time.

“Look, I know it sounds insane.” Gren sighed. “We found a mirror who entrapped the most powerful elf that ever lived in Xadia and then we went through it, followed the roar of a dragon, found the Sanctuary, and for some reason you were mad enough to say yes to our proposal.”

“In my defense, you said that a baby dragon... No, no, let me correct myself – a storm baby dragon – which is a myth here on Earth, needed help and then you said that you are not from Earth at all but from another realm so you tricked me.” Charlie sniggered.

“Well, my hidden talent to know when someone cares for something deeply has finally come to use.” Gren smiled proudly.

“Just don't get your hopes up. I might be a dragonologist but you said that no wizard...”

“Mage.” Gren corrected him.

“That no mage could help Zym so I am not sure how much I can do.” Charlie bowed his head.

“I know, but it is admiring that you are willing to try and I believe that you will be able to do something, if nothing else advise us what we can do to help the dragon prince,” Gren said cheerfully, looking at his friend.

He and the guards have only been on Earth for a month and they are already going back – needing far less time than Gren or anybody expected them to need to figure out how the people on Earth could help Azymondias.

They were lucky enough that the late dragon king set Aaravos' prison near the Carpathians mountains which also happened to be the secret hideout of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.

They were walking for 2 days before they heard a dragon roar and followed the sound for another day before they arrived in front of what looked like an abandoned gate. The mage tore down the enchantments and without thinking twice about it, they entered.

To say that the people working in the Reserve were in shock and not really sure what they were looking at was an understatement. It doesn't happen every day that a group of people with armor and swords walk straight through the gate.

Luckily, dragonologists are very simple and open-minded people – Gren has noticed – so it was easy to explain what was going on.

The second they said that a dragon needed help, a bunch of them volunteered but Gren knew that they can only take one person back so he asked the kind people if they could stay for a few days to observe their work and then pick the one that seemed the best suited for the job.

Charlie stood out to Gren immediately, because he was one of the few that simply raised their hand to volunteer instead of being loud and jumping in the air. His calmness suited him and he intrigued Gren the second he followed him around the next morning and saw how he handled the dragons.

The fellow red-haired dragonologist reminded Gren very much of king Ezran and how he talks to animals. The second Gren decided that this business was too urgent for him to be shy and not talk to him, he approached the dragon tamer and asked him about his ability to talk to dragons.

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at him and laughed a little, thinking the commander was joking, only to compose himself a second later when he saw just how serious Gren was.

With observing his work and asking him all sorts of questions Gren deemed him perfect for the job.

He wasn't even that surprised that he got Charlie on board without any effort.

The second the sun rose the next morning and Charlie said goodbye to the dragons and his co-workers, they made their way back to the mirror.

—

Gren, you are back! Amaya was waiting next to the mirror for them to come back and hugged her friend the second he came out of it.

I'm alright. It went pretty smoothly. Gren smiled proudly.

Who is this? Amaya signed, nodding at Charlie and scanning him from head to toe.

This is Charlie Weasley, he's a dragon tamer back in the other realm and he is here to help Zym. Gren explained.

He's cute. Amaya winked at her friend.

I thought you were in a committed relationship with Janai? Gren giggled.

I meant for you. Amaya nudged him, making Gren's face as red as a strawberry.

Without replying, Gren rushed everyone out of the room, making the excuse to see Zym as fast as possible.

Amaya sent a squad to bring Zym to Katolis so that Charlie would have the time to settle in and get some rest and that he wouldn't get too overwhelmed by his surroundings.

The second he saw the dragon prince and heard his cheerful squeaks despite having an injured wing, Charlie's eyes glowed and he felt like all his dreams came true to see a dragon that not only doesn't breathe fire but can zap you with electricity.

Gren explained to him to the best of his abilities why they call Zym the dragon prince but when he bowed to the young dragon and heard the people behind him giggle, he knew he took it too far. With his cheeks turning scarlet, he cleared his throat and asked everybody to give him and Zym some space so he could do a proper check-up on him.

Amaya, Gren, Ezran, Callum, Soren, and Opeli all watched as Charlie sat down next to the dragon and started whispering something to him. It only took about a minute for Zym to trust him which – with everything Gren saw back in the Sanctuary – wasn't surprising at all.

Zym let Charlie position him in a way to have full access to the wing, while constantly murmuring something under his breath.

“So, did you manage to find out how to help him?” Ezran asked the second Charlie stood up and walked to them.

“I...uh...” Charlie stuttered not knowing how to begin.

“What? What's wrong?” Callum put his hand over his little brother's shoulder.

“I don't want to be rude so I don't know how to say it.” Charlie was embarrassed.

“Hey, we trust in your expertise so don't worry about it.” Gren encouraged Charlie to speak.

“Well, his wing is broken, you got that right but because dragons here and on Earth are magical creatures, magic can't help them much.” Charlie shook his head.

“So, there's nothing we can do?” Ezran was on the verge of tears.

“Quite the opposite, this is very good news. I thought that we would have to mend his broken bones with magic.” Charlie said in a cheerful voice to put Ezran in a better mood.

“And we won't need to use magic?” Soren got curious.

“No. Because Zym is still so young and will need years to grow fully, we would just have to immobilize his wing as much as possible until his bones mend themselves.” Charlie explained.

“It's that easy? ” Amaya signed, looking impressed and Gren interpreted.

“Yes. Zym is still growing and like with children it's easier to have a broken bone when you are young than when you're an adult. If Zym will be a good boy and obey when I put bandages on him, he should be better somewhere from around 6 months to a year if he is like the dragons we have back at home.” Charlie couldn't hide how proud he was of all the knowledge he had on dragons and healing.

“How are you going to wrap him up?” Ezran was beyond happy to know that his friend is going to be just fine.

“With magic, of course.” Charlie pulled out his wand.

“You made a mistake of trying to heal his wing with magic directly, that simply doesn't work with one of the most powerful beings in the world. In cases like this, you have to turn to the good old remedies.”

He walked back to Zym who extended his wing as much as he could for Charlie to do his magic.

Gren and his friends couldn't quite decipher what Charlie said for pieces of cloth to start flying out of his wand and bandage Zym's wing for him not to be able to move it.

“So our mission was all for nothing?” Gren bowed his head.

“On the contrary, commander,” Ezran grinned at him, “if you hadn't brought Charlie here, we would worry about Zym for years and his bones could regrow in a wrong way, and from what I can see, you wouldn't have made a friend.”

“True.” Gren gave the words of his king some thought.

“Also, I think that mister Weasley doesn't mind meeting another species of dragon.” Opeli giggled.

Gren turned around to where Charlie was trying to make Zym hold still so he could cast the spell with bandages on him a few more times and smiled to himself.

“Yeah, you're right. It was completely worth it.” He observed his friend doing his job for a few seconds more before the heat on his cheeks became too much and he turned to Amaya who winked at him with a smug expression on her face.

Gren playfully rolled his eyes and walked to Charlie.

“So, after you do this, how long is it going to last?” He wanted to know.

“Well, Zym is a very energetic and jumpy dragon and these bandages have to be tight for as long as possible so I would have to change them a few times per day.” Charlie chuckled when Zym let out a happy squeak.

“Meaning you will stay here?” Gren tried sounding normal but was bad at hiding his excitement.

“Would that be okay?” Charlie scratched the top of his head. “I mean I don't know how realms work or if this is even allowed?”

“We can ask the mages but since we stayed on Earth for a month, I think it wouldn't be a problem.”

“Well, I love traveling and would love to help Zym for as long as I can, so I wouldn't mind at all.” Charlie couldn't believe how lucky he was to embark on this amazing adventure.

“What about the people back at home? Won't they miss you?”

In the time Gren spent with Charlie, he had the opportunity to get to know him very well and it became evident early on that Charlie was a man who would do anything for his family and his loved ones.

“They will,” Charlie shrugged, “but they are used to seeing me only a few times per year and besides, it's work-related and they understand how much my job means to me.”

“In that case, I would...” Gren cleared his throat. “...I mean we would love to have you.”

“It's settled then. I am staying. I would just like to ask if there is a way for me to send a message home?”

“I am sure that can be arranged.”

Charlie and Gren turned around to the voice and saw king Ezran smiling at them.

“I would like to thank you personally, mister Weasley...”

“Please, king Ezran, call me Charlie.”

“Only if you stop calling me king,” Ezran giggled, “my friends call me Ez and I think it's safe to say that you are now a friend. Wouldn't you say so, Gren?”

“Exactly!” Gren exclaimed.

“As I was saying, I would like to thank you for doing this. You have no idea how much this means to the magic folk, to us people, and me personally.” Ezran walked to where Charlie was kneeling next to Zym and wrapped his arms around him.

Charlie let out a suppressed chuckle, not expecting a king to hug him, but then returned the embrace before standing up.

“I will need a place to stay.” Charlie giggled nervously as they were standing in front of the castle door, waiting for the guards to let them in.

“You can stay with us,” Gren said and pointed behind him.

Charlie turned around to see Amaya signing to Gren for him to interpret.

“I think you will fit in with us just nicely,” Gren translated while Amaya sent Charlie a wink.

No amount of freckles could hide the dragon tamer's burning cheeks as he couldn't believe just how nice everyone in Katolis was.

Gren and Amaya took him to the garden the second he came from the much-needed shower from all the kisses and licks Zym gave him. They were sitting on the bench and conversing – Charlie trying to take in as many signs as he could because he was determined to learn sign language.

“Charlie, I bring good news!” Prince Callum came out of nowhere. “Ez told me that you want to send a message home and asked me to talk to the mages. They can prepare the mirror for you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Callum. That is indeed great news.” He grinned at the prince, relieved that he will have a chance to explain to his family where he has gone to.

“Now that it's official and you're staying I think we have to give you a rank.” Ezran appeared next to Callum.

“A rank?” Charlie tilted his head in confusion.

“And armor!” Callum exclaimed.

“What are you two talking about?” Gren chuckled at how excited they were and glanced at Amaya who just giggled as if she was hiding something.

Amaya, what did you do? Gren's curiosity got the better of him.

Well, since Brandon retired last year I am without my third in command so I am giving that position to Charlie. Amaya explained.

“To me?” Charlie jumped in his seat after Gren told him what was going on. “But I can't fight!”

“You are doing admirable work, worth of a title.” Gren interpreted.

“I-I don't know what to say.” Charlie was left speechless.

“Oh, I know what you could do!” Callum gasped loudly before running away from them.

Not even 5 minutes later, he came back with his sketchbook in his hands. Without saying anything he ordered Gren, Amaya, and Charlie – who were sitting on the bench – to stand up.

“We will celebrate with your official portrait,” Callum explained his actions.

The trio exchanged a look and then turned around when they heard someone clear their throat.

“Callum, you can't draw them without Charlie being in his new uniform.” Soren shook his head and handed Charlie a package.

The redhead was looking at it in awe before being rushed to the closest bathroom to try it on.

“Oh, look at you!” Soren and Ezran said together, admiring the scales on Charlie's chest.

“You look...” Gren's mouth fell open, lost for words.

Dashing. Amaya signed and winked at her best friend.

“Uhm, yeah.” Gren nodded.

Come on, Gren. Say it to him. She encouraged him.

“Dashing. Uhm, you...you look dashing.” Gren knew there was no way to hide his strawberry freckled face but seeing Charlie blush at his words too, he no longer cared.

The trio positioned themselves in front of Callum who drew them and as the crew watched him hard at work, sneaking looks at Charlie, they knew their group gained a new friend.

[imnotwolverine]

The Wolves Return - Part 2

< Part 1  | Part 3 >

Summary: Evil is meddling in the woods and bad news hangs in the air.    

Word count: 2649 (9,5 min. reading) 

Disclaimer: 16+ - Thrilling, monster hunting and gore, minor injuries and a smidge of Geralt being a soft!dad 

--

And then the White Wolf came. Fighting till his knees gave out and weakened did he bleat; Shit, Fuck, Almighty! Is death worth this good deed?

--

It was a terrible idea to go out of Kaer Morhen’s gates in this weather, with his leg feeling like a lug. But Geralt was a man of principle. And evil was evil. Greater, lesser, meddling. It stopped him from having a quiet night in, and he wasn’t having it. 

Stepping out of the gate that crashed back in its lock, Geralt squinted into the flurry of snow. The footsteps he had seen here had faded as the stormy weather raged on. 

Removing the long silver steel from its scabbard, he let his golden eyes roam over the dangerous pines. Instinctively his free hand shot out to his medallion. The magical pendant was still warm from the firepit inside and it thrummed restlessly into his palm, indicating that a source of magic was near.  

‘Come out then.’ He demanded. But nothing came. A new flurry of snow came in instead and it was almost hard to believe that hours earlier the world had been green and somewhat peaceful. 

Unfortunately for Geralt it wasn’t just snow that had arrived. A heavy gust made him stagger. It was like someone had tried to push him over, the strength so odd that perhaps he had already found his magical perpetrator. 

Raising his sword, his free hand casted Yrden. The spell lit purplish blue fires in a circle around him, illuminating the radiant storm. That storm seemed to calm somewhat within the boundaries of his spell. It confirmed his assumptions that something strange was afoot, and yet he couldn’t place whom or what it was. Was it the woman? If so, were there more? Was this an ambush? 

What a way to die that would be. 

Looking left and right he sniffed the air. That same mixture of fresh pine sap and blood hung in the air. 

A scream. 

In a rush of whirling wind that crushed a tree branch up ahead, the woman came hurling at Geralt. Her skirts were ripped and somewhere in the past minutes she had lost her cape. 

Geralt steadied his breath, ready to strike. But as the woman came near he noticed that the winds around her were off. They were irregular, like a wall of mists chasing her down. 

‘RUN!’ She belted, eyes wide. 

Geralt did not run. He only raised his sword a little higher, head twitching to the side to take that ever important decision; attack or defend. 

The woman was a few footsteps away as he made his call. With a twirl he slashed down, hacking straight through succulent flesh. 

The woman froze, gulping as a frosted grey creature fell apart by her feet. 

‘Ah!’ 

‘QUIET.’ Geralt growled, eyes focused. The Yrden flames now cast a purplish hue over his pale features. Keeping his sword in one hand, his other was held out, ready to cast another spell if needed. 

The woman nodded. With her arms grasping around some undefined wooden object in her arms she looked around skittishly. The wall of magical winds was now encircling them, causing the temperature to drop even further. Icy breaths broke from their mouths and the pinetrees above their heads went berzerkers. Whipping wildly to and fro it felt like they would soon pick up their root systems and fly off. 

‘We’re gonna die.’ The woman cried. 

‘The fuck we aren’t.’ 

The woman stepped back to get her back closer to the Witcher. Geralt snarled. 

‘Don’t make this any harder woman.’ 

She let out a little breath but kept her complaints to herself. ‘Ha..typical this is.’ She whispered. 

The winds were now inching closer, investigating the curious sign that was losing its force. Without hesitation Geralt called upon it again. The purple blue flames rose higher and as they did another creature was caught in their wake. A demon-esque, mangled face without eyes or nose reached out its claws, howling. 

‘Foglet.’ Geralt growled, shoving the woman aside to make a clear path for his sword. With a fine sweep he mowed down the creature, slashing straight through its narrow body. 

What Geralt didn’t notice was the launch of two more creatures that came from behind. And unlike their fellow packmember, they weren’t quite so distressed by the magical barrier that Yrden cast. Howling in pain they lunged forward, taking both the woman and Geralt by surprise. 

Yrden’s light flickered as the woman was thrown to the ground, taking Geralt with her. Though the ghostly lights did not harm them, they did feel the cold return as they tumbled over the circle’s border. In moments another wave of slim limbs materialized, turning the blue-hued night into a true nightmare. 

Geralt struggled to get the monsters away from them. Claws raked through supple skin and in moments the fresh white snow beneath them started to fleck with drops of blood. And not just his. The woman screamed bloody murder as one of the grey creatures found purchase on her neck. 

Not that Geralt could care. 

Swinging his sword in wild abandon he pushed away the aggressors that were toppling over him. The white world became a blood soaked nightmare. Greyish limbs went flying and though cold on his skin, Geralt felt warm blood thrum in his ears as the thrill of the fight returned. Practised stances echoed through his limbs as he cut through the foggy air. Though he did have to admit that even the adrenaline couldn’t qualm the ache in his leg. With a protective stance he kept the weight on his good leg, hoping the creatures weren’t smart enough to topple him over again. 

A new windy cloud of snow came his way and he started hacking. 

It was enough occupation to move his attention away from the dying light of Yrden. A few flickers of blue lit the trees and swirling snow before all went terribly dark. 

The woman cried out again, though this time there didn’t seem to be terror within her. A snarl came from her vicinity, closely followed by a few damp thuds. 

Bones cracked. Monsters howled. And as the foglets fell dead by Geralt’s feet, so did the howls behind him. 

The woman panted. ‘So far for a warm welcome.’ 

Geralt turned, feeling the ache in his leg worsen by the second. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to make it back to his chair without making a complete fool of himself. In the dark stood the woman, the object that she had kept in her arms now falling apart in misery. A lute, that’s what it must have been. The strings curled broken around her bloodied hands. Her eyes were bewildered as she looked around in what must be pitchblack darkness for her. 

‘Hello?’ She stopped panting to swallow deeply. 

She couldn’t see him. 

Geralt felt his lip curl up, though he wasn’t sure whether he was smiling or grimacing. The thrill of the fight was slowly seeping away with the blood that was gushing from his shallow wounds. He had to take care of that soon. 

‘We don’t have visitors here.’ He finally said, allerting the woman. She held her breath and held her broken lute a little higher. The poor instrument was beyond repair. 

‘I’ve learned otherwise good Sir.’ She shuffled nervously, still not able to see him. 

Around them the storm had returned to a quiet snowfall. No stars were to be seen and little flecks of snow were starting to stack back onto the tree branches. In a few hours the paths to Kaer Morhen would become near impossible to cross by normal footfolk. And that was all fair and game, until you have a visitor at the wrong side of the tracks. 

Geralt sighed. ‘Visitor or not. Claim your business here.’ 

The woman huffed. ‘You’re my business.’ 

‘I am your business?’ 

‘The Butcher of Blaviken? The White Wolf of Rivia?! The--’ 

Geralt started walking off. Or better said: limping off. His leg was smarting so terribly that he already felt his head whirl after just a few steps. That, or it was the blood loss in combination with the biting cold. 

‘Hey!’ The woman heard his dragging feet and followed.

Every few steps Geralt could hear her slip and slide, but she was not one so easily dissuaded. 

‘I don’t do visitors.’ He growled, clenching his teeth. His vision was starting to swim as he laid eyes on the gates up ahead. 

‘Well then count me as an old-new friend.’ 

Geralt halted, but as he wished to tell the woman off he could feel the world starting to blur. The sharp jolts of pain from his leg were starting to numb -- bad sign. 

‘I don’t even know y--’ 

--

[In perhaps a dream] 

‘Now you take good care of him, okay?’ Ciri whispered to Roach. The horse wiggled her ears as they both kept a mischievous eye on Geralt. The spring sun was streaming warm light over Kaer Morhen’s courtyard as all inhabitants stood around to wish the young woman farewell. 

Meanwhile Geralt kept a small smile on his lips. He wasn’t really feeling happy, but he had to quell the less desirable feelings that were bubbling up inside him. Ciri was leaving. She was a grown woman now. This was a good thing. This was supposed to happen, right? 

He eyed Vesemir who seemed far more relaxed. Arms folded and hip leaning into the stair balustrade, he winked at Geralt. 

‘Hmmpf.’ Geralt huffed through smiling lips.

‘Now, now. You start sounding like me there, young man.’ Vesemir grinned. 

‘It’s not the same.’ 

‘Oh I think it is.’ Vesemir raised up as Ciri skirted up the stairs to jump-hug him. He chuckled merrily as he patted the back of her shoulder. 

‘Uncle Vesemir.’ Ciri swallowed, smiling and fighting back tears. 

‘Goodbye Cirilla. Return to us soon.’ 

‘I will.’ She turned and readied herself for the poorly kept tempest that was Geralt. 

Geralt awkwardly tried to keep his lips in a smile, but looked far more malicious and mad than happy. 

‘Geralt.’ Ciri mumbled, stepping in to press her head under his chin. Like old times their arms folded around one another, their noses turned to take in each other's scents. 

‘Cir-.’ Geralt’s voice cracked and he chose silence instead. Unsure where to look he looked at the blurry cascade of mousy blond hair that Ciri had started growing out the past year. She kept it braided most of the time and it would always snag with small twigs and branches as they roamed around the grounds and forests of Kaer Morhen. 

Her time of training was over. It was time for her to set out on The Trail and carry on the knowledge and skills he had taught her. It felt odd after all these years together. 

‘Hang in there old man.’ Ciri whispered, hugging him a little tighter. The sun burned hot on their skin and Geralt wondered if he was feeling her sweat or her tears. Either which it was, he held on tight just a moment longer. 

‘And tell Jaskier he cannot, I repeat CANNOT use my flute. Don’t want his spit all over.’ 

Geralt huffed. ‘Of all the things..’ 

‘What?’ Ciri leaned back and quickly dried a tear on her cheek. 

Geralt smiled. This time a real smile. Squeezing her back into his embrace once more he pressed a kiss on top of her head. ‘Come back whenever.’ 

--

A melody. Too happy for the way Geralt was feeling. Squinting hard against the ray of light that fell exactly on his face, he woke up from a fitful dream. The melody hadn’t been part of the dream though. As he looked around he found himself laying on a wooden bench with some animal skins propped up under his head. 

The music continued to flow through the large hall where the first light had arrived some hours ago. The air was fresh with the snow from outside -- the door had been opened recently. And there was a fire. Well-kept, warm, smelling of just a tinge of lacquer. 

A figure sat there, wrapped in a worn blanket, naked feet dangling from the bench. The woman. It all came back to Geralt as he pushed himself up with a grunt. His leg was feeling terrible, but his wounds were bound. His shirt had been removed, he noted, and replaced by a simple blanket. His arms and shoulders were wrapped in blood speckled bandages and he could smell the heady aroma of some herbs peaking through. 

‘Fuck.’ He groaned, sitting up completely. 

The music stopped and the woman looked over her shoulder. 

‘Look who’s alive.’ She said, getting up. 

Geralt’s eyes shot daggers at her. ‘You could’ve killed us.’ 

It was the first time since he saw her well and true. She had dirty blonde locks, which fell away from a messy braid. And her eyes were a striking cornflower blue. Her clothes, once quite expensive, were torn to pieces. Her face. Hmm her face. He was sure he didn’t know the woman and yet she tingled a familiar sense in him. 

Grunting Geralt got up from the bench. His body was aching like he had been pummeled in a fistfight with Eskel, and he couldn’t wait to dip into his stash of potions. Potions.. With a weary eye on the strange woman he moved his attention to the cellar door in the far back. It was open. 

The woman squeaked in delight. ‘Quite a collection you have here! Are there others? There are other Witchers right? My father always --’

‘WOMAN.’ 

The woman quieted, biting her lip. ‘Actually my name is --’

Geralt stepped forward with all the power he could muster, willing the strange woman to be gone as soon as possible. He could lock her up somewhere. He could throw her out. He could.. He clenched his jaw as he realised how rapid his heart was beating in his chest. Little beads of sweat were falling down his brow and before he could utter another retort at the woman he felt the clammy cold of unconsciousness crawl back over him. 

‘Geralt..?’ 

Her voice swam like a breeze through his mind. 

--

‘I’m going to be a father.’ Jaskier sighed, staring out at the dipping sun. The sausages they had roasted on the campfire were almost all eaten by him. 

Geralt sighed. ‘You don’t know the trouble you’re getting yourself into Jaskier.’ 

Jaskier smiled dreamily. ‘And yet we wouldn’t have it any other way.’ 

--

Part 3 > 

--

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[nxrthmizu]

disappearing trick — SaguKai

━━━━━━━

fandom | magic kaito 

pairing | kuroba kaito x hakuba saguru 

genre | angst to fluff :3 

w.c | 2.1k 

━━━━━━━

It was a heist went wrong. 

So, so wrong. 

There were explosions and gunshots, all of which Hakuba was about 99.99% sure wasn’t in KID’s itinerary of the night. He remembered catching a glimpse of a torn white cape, the grimace of pain clear as day despite the lack of helicopters overhead, and men dressed in black. 

“KID—!” Hakuba had yelled, which, looking back, was not the smartest thing he could’ve done. The barrels of two guns instantaneously locked on him, much to the phantom thief’s horror. 

It seemed like it was the end for Hakuba Saguru. 

But of course, KID always loved to meddle in things that didn’t involve him. And so he did what he always did best. 

KID was a performer, after all. He specialised in attracting his audience’s attention to him. Flashing a cocky smirk towards Hakuba’s direction, even though there was a stream of blood trickling down his cheek, the phantom thief disappeared into the night with a loud bang, taking the two men with him. 

Kuroba Kaito was ‘kidnapped’ the same night. 

According to Aoko, who had been in the Nakamouri house when the teen was attacked, there had been a loud crash, gunshots, and yelling. The girl had hid under the kitchen counter in fright, hoping and praying with all her heart that Kaito hadn’t been home at the time of the break-in. 

As it turned out, he was. 

The crime scene investigators turned Kuroba’s house upside down, finding multiple signs that the teen boy had been shot, if the splatters of blood (That all had Kaito’s DNA) was any indication. It was also concluded by the investigators that Kaito put up a hell of a fight, as there were signs of his magic tricks all through the house. 

Hakuba was still being treated for shock at the heist location when Detective Nakamouri received a call from his devastated, hysterical daughter, who sobbed so loudly through the phone that the blonde detective overheard.

It was only one disaster after another. 

For once, Hakuba chose to stay out of the crime scene, instead stroking Aoko’s back as comfortingly as he could, trying not to think about Kaito’s body, abandoned in some dark alley dumpster. His coat was soaked through with splotches of her tears, but he didn’t care much, because he himself felt like crying, too. 

━━━━━━━

School the next day was eerily quiet. Practically everyone had heard of Kaito’s kidnapping, and if they didn’t, Aoko’s swollen eyes were a dead giveaway that something had happened to the playful teen. The teacher kept glancing up, as if she was waiting for an interruption, only to flick her eyes onto the empty seat at the corner of the classroom. The topic lingered like a dark cloud above the classroom, and no one dared to even mention the name ‘Kaito’ when Aoko was within hearing distance. 

“He’s alive.” 

Hakuba glanced up after a few moments of silence, realising that Akako was talking to him. “What?” 

“Kuroba.” Akako continued impatiently. “He’s alive.” 

The blonde detective couldn’t help but snort. “And how did you come to that conclusion? Did your crystal ball tell you that?” 

Judging by the glare the female shot in his direction, she didn’t appreciate his snark, but Hakuba just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. “He won’t go down this easily.” Akako stated, as if she’d seen Kaito alive with her own two eyes. Granted, the image hadn’t exactly been clear when she used her seer powers on him, but she could go as far as saying that the magician was still breathing. 

“Look. He was shot.” Hakuba interrupted emotionlessly. “Even if the gunshot wasn’t fatal, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“He won’t go out that easily. You’ll see.” 

━━━━━━━

Kuroba Kaito was pronounced dead after three months. KID went back into retirement— At least, that’s what the KID division announced after no sight of any heist in the horizon. 

After a long consideration, Hakuba decided to leave Japan behind— Along with the memories of KID and Kaito— And return to Britain. Some would call him cowardly, and he would admit, yes, it was cowardly of him to run away like that, but as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care what others thought of him. 

Sure, Aoko was a little upset, but Akako had reassured her that she wasn’t going anywhere. He did feel a little bad for leaving Nakamouri behind— All her friends were disappearing, one by one, after all— 

Disappearing. 

That was KID’s— Kaito’s last trick, Hakuba thought tearily, hastily ushering the tears away as he packed the last of his clothes into the luggage bag. A disappearing trick gone wrong— And the phantom thief KID, Kuroba Kaito— Two sides of the same coin— Dropped off the surface of the planet, never to be heard from again. 

But there was no point in crying over spilled milk anymore. 

“Saguru-kun, there’s a man looking for you outside.” His housekeeper knocked on the door, informing him monotonously. “He said he has a few things to tell you before you leave Japan.” 

A quick peer out of the window gave him a glimpse of dark brown hair— A familiar stature and height, a relaxed pose— 

Hakuba had never dashed out of his room that fast in his entire life. All composure and calamity was forgotten as he practically barrelled down the stairs, narrowly missing a few boxes of belongings he had wrapped up the days prior. The door burst open with a tremendous bang! as Hakuba hurried down the front steps of his house, hoping, praying, pleading that the face that he would meet belonged to— 

“Kudou-kun?” The tone of disappointment couldn’t be avoided as Hakuba remembered just how alike the detective and the magician looked. If he was asked, the two were definitely genetically related at some degree or another. “How may I help you today?” His tone was terribly strained; he had had expectations, and he had been let down. 

Kudou Shinichi, as the great detective that rivalled many others, took quick note of Hakuba’s inner turmoil. “Hakuba-kun. I have news that you might want to... Think about before you leave Japan.” 

“Go on.” Hakuba said bitterly. Nothing could stop him from leaving Japan, he thought. Not when every corner reminded him of the man that kept him on his feet. 

“Kuroba Kaito is very much alive.” Kudou said casually, with no prior preparation or whatsoever. Hakuba looked as if he was just hit by a freight train, stunned and dazed by the words that destroyed everything he knew about life. “He’s been staying undercover to help the FBI take down the Black Organisation, who, as if seems, was after Pandora as well. Because he’s been missing for three months, its’ going to be very hard for him to explain his absence— So he has requested for me to pass you this letter in his stead.” 

The thoughts running through Saguru’s head as the slim letter was received into his head were wild. Kaito was alive? He was involved with the FBI? What was the Black Organisation— And forget the Black Organisation, what the hell was Pandora? And why couldn’t Kaito have passed him the letter himself? 

“Well, I’m going to get going.” Kudou smiled gently. “See you around, Hakuba-kun.” 

━━━━━━━

It seems like your detective skills have mellowed since my absence, Hakubastard. Your observational ability is... Mediocre, to say the least. Anyway, I suppose I should provide you with an explanation (Although I would love to go world-hopping and leave you in pursuit of the truth for the rest of your life), but I guess I owe you this much after just upping and leaving like that. Those gun wounds hurt like hell, but they weren’t going to nuff this magician up that easily. I still had a couple tricks up my sleeve— It was nice seeing you all worried about me, though! So you do care~ 

Anyway, its still not too safe for me to appear publicly in Japan. I’ve sent a letter to Aoko, so don’t worry about filling her in. I left the meeting location in your bedroom. Exactly a month from now. Better set a reminder on that pocket watch of yours, tantei. 

With love malice, 

Kuroba Kaito

“My bedroom...?” Hakuba murmured to himself, realisation striking like a flash of lightning. A quick inspection of his room turned out with a slip of yellow paper: Rivals shall meet once more, in the romantic city people adore; When the clock strikes a quarter and by the Seine shop corner. 

Saguru rushed over to his bedroom window, eyes flicking up and down the nearby streets to find Kudou Shinichi’s silhouette, but he came up empty handed— For that wasn’t Kudou Shinichi at all... Because who else would break into his bedroom just to leave a riddle? 

It didn’t take long for Hakuba to figure out the time, date, and location— Kudou— No, Kaito had said so himself. Exactly a month from then— In the ‘romantic city people adore’— Which would be Paris— ‘clock strikes a quarter’— At a quarter of a day, which would be 6am— And by the ‘Seine shop corner’— So at a coffee shop next to River Seine. 

“Baa-san!” Saguru called out into the manor, a smile on his face. “Cancel my flight ticket and book one to Paris instead.” 

━━━━━━━

Paris at 6am was quite the pretty sight. The sun was barely rising over the horizon, little splays of light shimmying over the river surface, bathing Paris in a fine, gold threads of sunshine. Not that many cafes were open at the crack of dawn, which made it even easier for Saguru to track down his cafe. 

The little coffee shop by the Seine provided an amazing view as Saguru enjoyed his morning coffee. He had taken a seat outside the cafe, the streets silent in a peaceful, docile manner, early birds already leaving their nests for the worms that were promised. 

The latte in his hands felt warm, inducing heat into his frozen fingers. Hakuba had never felt that on edge in his entire life— Would Kaito show up? 

“Lovely morning, no?” An old man commented, plopping into the seat opposite Saguru. “I love watching the sunrise from here.” 

Hakuba raised an eyebrow, looking for details of a disguise. The fat seemed genuine— The voice was deep and velvety, a little rough and raspy around the edges— The wrinkles around the eyes looked authentic— But he had seen the quality of KID’s work, and he wasn’t taking his chances.

“Indeed,” Saguru agreed with a pleasant hum, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “Say, mister, what do you think about magic tricks?” 

“Ah, I think they’re quite quaint.” The old man replied in his deep voice, eyes forming crescent lines as he smiled. “What do you think of them, young man?” 

Saguru placed his latte back onto the cup. “I think magic tricks are nice,” He started softly, making firm eye contact with the old man, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “But I hate disappearing tricks the most.” 

“Oh?” The old man was confused, clearly missing the memo. “Why so—?” 

“Good morning, sir, can I take your order?” A voice pricked into Hakuba’s memory, triggering some sort of mechanism. It was the same tone, frequency, wavelength— The only thing different was the dialect and accent. 

Saguru looked up right into Kaito’s violet eyes, the latter dressed in a waiter’s uniform. A soft smile spread over the magician’s lips as he winked, Hakuba’s jaw dropping as his gaze returned to the man in front of him. 

“Ah, a cappuccino please. And one slice of carrot cake.” 

“Of course.” Kaito nodded pleasantly. “Right away, sir. And you?” 

Hakuba took longer to find his voice than he would’ve liked. “Just a cup of black coffee, please.” 

“Is that all?” Kaito hummed, scribbling down the orders on a piece of paper. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Hakuba laid back against the chair, a sigh slipping from his lips as he smiled continuing his conversation with the old man, who was still very much confused. 

“Ah, but I find disappearing tricks interesting,” The old man commented, chuckling slightly. “It’s always so magical when the reappearance happens, no?” 

The blonde detective hummed, watching the dark-haired magician busy himself inside the shop. “I suppose I’ll have to agree with that.” 

━━━━━━━

this thing has been sitting in my drafts for four months and its time for it to see the light of day~ 

[bruh-haikyuu]

A/N: ITS FINISHED WHAT THE FFUCKK 7000+ WORDS THIS IS A BEAST. ENJOYY!!! :DD Thank you for all your support!

Fem!MC in this is the guitarist/lead vocalist of the rock band PARANOIA! She also went to the same middle school as Konoha, but because she’s deemed as a prodigy, they didn’t get to talk so much. I hope you all enjoy the interesting take I’ve put in MC’s personality!! :))

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Coming Soon!)

ensemble. | konoha akinori

part 1 - overture.

word count: 7287

warnings: slight angst, a lil’ bit of manipulation

(n.) an orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera, suite, play, oratorio, or other extended composition

You’re not the type of person to care. Things flitted over your head so easily like they’re nothing more than a light breeze. But were you an airhead? Not exactly. President of the Light Music Club and one of Fukurodani Academy’s prized minds, people sought of you as a genius or a prodigy. But you never really understood what they meant.

Weren’t you just a high school student like them?

You just got bored very easily. That’s all there is to say. Sure, you hopped between multiple clubs and interests in your first year, but wasn’t that initial year your chance to discover yourself? At least that’s what your parents told you. And you did! Eventually. The Light Music Club was the only club you felt the most interest and where you could be your fanciful, “blunt” self without everyone else worrying about you.

What’s up with that, you asked yourself much too often to be comfortable. Worrying’s for old people like parents, or grandparents or even middle-aged women who’d found no hope for love. Exams are temporary, people are temporary, and if they’re going to last for only a while, why think so much about it? You could never get why everyone made being a high school student so complicated.

But it’s kind of frightening. Being a high schooler but not completely understanding what it means. What were you then? Maybe you were just as “alien” as everyone called you. Put yourself in other people’s shoes, was what you were often told by your bandmates when you’d told them about your woes.

“I’ve decided!” you announced today as your bandmates slash club members sat around you in a circle. “I’m going to get a boyfriend.”

“...L/N, this ain’t another one of your social experiments, is it?” your drummer Reo sighed, exasperation dripping in his voice.

“Yes, and no,” you said, crossing your arms. “Reeeooo, it’s not wrong for your little ol’ club president to find love, right? Besides, I’m already a second year, it’s only a matter of time until I graduate. So why not make full use of it now?”

Bassist Iori exchanged a glance with Reo before chuckling deeply. “Always the unexpected one, huh, Taichou*? Alright then, you have our full support, this is bound to be funny at a point.”

“What is your type anyway?” the first-year keyboardist Tsumugi (occasionally MugiMugi much to his dismay) asked. “Right now, I mean... Since you switch between interests so quickly, senpai.”

“Well it’s neither of you, if you’re curious. Reo’s got a girlfriend already. Iori-kun’s too stingy. And MugiMugi seems like the kind of guy who’d get married to his own mom.”

“Oi, senpai!”

It was true. They heavily reminded you of your three older brothers. And you were thankful to the heavens that they all decided to move away once they graduated high school. One more ounce of “brotherly defense” and you were sure you were going to run off to live in some live house.

“Still not sugarcoating your words, I see. But I’m glad you’re not going to force us to date you, ” Iori muttered, finding interest in the pegs of his bass. “Do you even have someone you like? You seem to be, uh...”

“Very much married to your guitar,” Reo followed. Your drummer and his short-cropped hair was particularly quick to catch on cues and make a humdrum comment about it. It’s very obvious that he tries (keyword: tries) to empathize with you, but the fact that you just become a deeper enigma everyday just pisses him off.

You frowned, getting up from your rickety chair. “Lennon-chan is a very valuable item to me, but I won’t stoop so low as to marry it! I’m interested in a human. Hu-man. We went to the same middle school, so if you were thinking that my affections are baseless, then think of another question for me to answer.”

How unbelievable. You didn’t understand how people thought you were less of a person than they were. You have a set of lungs, human skin without a zipper that opens up to your Martian scalp and a teenage heart for another to hold. What’s so hard to believe that you were able to like something long-term?

“So, who is it then?” Tsumugi asked.

Tapping your finger on your chin in mock wonder, you gave them an impish grin. “Konoha Akinori.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Second-year student Konoha Akinori was not a big fan of surprises. He only enjoyed them when he was surprising the person. Other way around... not so much.

Which was not aiding to the reason why he was standing at an impasse with Fukurodani’s resident free-spirited prodigy L/N Y/N.

Your eyes twinkled brightly as you edged closer to him in the school’s near-empty courtyard. “Hello, Konoha-kun.”

“H-hello, L/N-san.”

What was going on? Why was this happening? Was this some sort of prank Bokuto had pulled on him? If it was, then how unfair. To have the prettiest girl in their grade approach him so suddenly... The entire thing reeked of craftiness, and Konoha resolved that Bokuto wouldn’t have gone so far to pull his leg. But why was this happening, again?!

“L/N-s-san, you’re a bit too close,” he choked, back pressed against a wall. Much to his gratefulness, you pulled back to let him breathe. If you had advanced one more step, he’d turn into an oversized tomato soon. Konoha Akinori the Human Tomato—that didn’t look so good on his college applications...

This girl’s danger, he thought. He knew about you. Heck, he even went to middle school with you. Sure, Konoha appreciated your beauty and talent as a person, but your alleged habit of jumping around interests just because “you were bored” terrified people to no end. You were a troublesome one, weren’t you?

“Konoha-kun, is it true you have a crush on me?”

Troublesome! Konoha cursed. His first real confrontation with an attractive girl and it had to be completely direct? No frills, no shoujo sparkles? How unpleasant. At least you shouldn’t pin him to a corner wall like this! Konoha just wanted to melt into a puddle and become absorbed into the soil.

“L-L/N-san, a lot of people have a crush on you!”

“I know. But I’m asking you. Do you like me?” your poised smile was the photograph of absolute nuisance. Blunt this, blunt that, was the way people described you, but Konoha never expected you to be this plain-spoken. Was there even a right answer when it came to your questions?

“L/N-san, you can’t just ask me something like this! I-I mean you’re pretty and smart and everything, so of course I had a crush on you, but isn’t this a little too late for that?”

Konoha swore your shoulders drooped at his words. But even that slight action was enough, to form a small incision to his heart. Just how human were you to have so heavy of an effect on him?

At that point, he was sure you were going to give up and leave him alone—possibly looking for another boy to meddle with... Until you chirped again in your nonchalant manner.

“But do you still like me?”

“I-I don’t know—”

“Then, why don’t we find out?”

‘Find out’? This was getting increasingly complicated. Out of all the people you could’ve trifle with, why did it have to be him? If only you were just more cute, instead of just plain out... surreal.

“We can go out for two months. You can find out if you do still have feelings for me, and I can learn why people make high school love seem more complicated than it should be,” you explained, counting off your reasons with a raised finger in each hand. “If it doesn’t work out by then, we’ll break up and I’ll leave you alone for good.”

In the silence that followed, Konoha was registering the information that had left your lips. Your words glitched in his mind like his mother’s old computer; always loading, never processing. There were so many questions he wanted to ask you, but he’d expected you to fling them back with more perplexing questions of your own. So he said nothing. In the silence that followed, he didn’t notice the glower that surfaced on your features as he let your offer dangle in the wall of space between you.

“We can go out and you can make Bokuto-kun and KomiKomi stop harassing you about being lame when it comes to girls.”

“How—” No. He wasn’t going to ask how you had his entire case figured out. Because he knew whatever reply was going to come out of your mouth was just going to be an indifferent: “It wasn’t a difficult process”. At least, Konoha knew that much about you.

Of course, the feeling of having a girlfriend—and someone like you, surprisingly—was going to be more than enough to rub into Komi and Bokuto’s faces. In fact, they’d leave him alone for eons if he did!  It was a tempting deal, and he ached to shake your hand and get it over with. But your own motives... “Complicated,” you’d said. The way you’d said it to him was almost pitiful. Konoha guessed you really did live on a different wavelength than other people.

Still avoiding your anticipating eyes, he replied, “Give me time to think about it.”

You didn’t particularly enjoy being forced to wait—not because you were an impatient person. “Thinking about it” only blooms ambivalence in return. And the longer someone thinks, the more doubtful they’ll become of their genuine resolve. If Konoha became cynical of the truth, your little ‘investigation’ would definitely go awry. What would happen to your ‘love’ then?

“Alright, but don’t take too long,” you spoke, raising your hands to your hips. “I’ve got your number so I’ll send you a text and you can save mine.”

Watching you spin on your heel and your back slowly shrink into the horizon, Konoha did a double take, finally taking in your final words to him.

“Wait, how’d you get my number?!”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned your head. Shooting him an impish grin, you broke the short absence of noise, and all at once Konoha really felt like he was in trouble.

“It wasn’t a difficult process,” you said.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“That’s...” Sarukui rolled the zipper of his jacket between his fingers before deciding on an appropriate word, “...very unsettling.”

In the privacy of the boys’ club room, Konoha crossed his arms. He’d made a face, just enough to border between pity and discontent. “Unsettling’s right. Do you think she’s a creep for just having my number like that?”

Tapping his chin with his index finger, the lax-faced boy replied, “I mean we are in the same grade. And she was class rep in our first year too, so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if she just had our numbers kept with her.”

From the corner of the room, Washio rumbled, “She’s actually not that bad. Though I admit she’s very strange.”

Turning his attention to the burlier male, Sarukui put his hands together, “That’s right, you’re in L/N-san’s class, aren’t you?”

“I remember that time she offered to lend me her World History flashcards because I forgot mine,” Washio recalled, moving towards the center of the room. “It was great for a while since she’s the smartest person in the class... but then...”

“...Then?”

“It didn’t matter because I couldn’t read anything she’d wrote on it. There were a couple of cards where she wrote backwards and all while she kept switching between kanji, hiragana and katakana mid-word... A prodigy’s brain is truly terrifying.”

Even though the story was rather amusing, the three only let out a despaired sigh.

“Aah, but it’s true that Y/N-san’s a really nice person,” a voice piped up behind them.

Their manager Yukie silently trudged into the carpeted floor, her usual skittish smile broadening against her face. The four second-years pooled around the room, one visibly concerned, the other confused, the third conflicted and the last... slightly hungry. Drawing out her breath, the hungrier one explained.

“She doesn’t seem like she has any bad intentions to me, it’s just that she tends to look into things too much... I mean, Y/N-san always gets to the point without any reason for her actions. But that’s because she doesn’t know how to explain it in her own way. If you think about it... don’t you think she’s actually really shy?”

‘Shy’ had no business with the way you’d confidently strode up to him, asking for Konoha to go out with you. Though he was blatantly thinking of the fact that you’re just messing with his head, Yukie made a point.

You’d barely made any friends in middle school, always separated from the crowds... but you’d react like it didn’t matter. You were always on a different wavelength with the special treatment the teachers gave you, so he hadn’t bothered to talk much with you either. The whole time you were so quiet back then, was it because you were trying to understand the situation?

Now Konoha felt really bad for calling you a ‘creep’. “Geez...”

“Hey, hey, hey! G’morning!”

Like the heavens had heard his woes, they sent him Bokuto for God knows what reason. Barreling inside the club room, the wing spiker was an untamed ball of energy and mischief that Konoha didn’t want anything to do with right about now.

“Y’know, a couple of girls approached me today at lunch. I was super shocked and everything,” Bokuto trumpeted, unravelling his tie. “My chances have grown pretty big since I started using my straights, don’t you think?”

“Not bigger than your head, I hope,” the blonde scoffed.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Bokuto laughed raucously enough to make the entire room silent lest for the drop of a pin. Slinging an arm around Konoha, he poked at his sides making the boy flinch and jump.

“Heey, Konoha-kun... You don’t have to be so mean when you’re jealous~” he grinned. Konoha rolled his eyes in retort. “You’ll get your big chance one day.”

Bokuto’s attempt at being passive-aggressive was just so Bokuto that anyone in the right mind would’ve found it extremely annoying. Konoha didn’t even know if he was even “jealous” anymore; the entire concept of having the ace constantly pester him everyday for the rest of his life for being so lonely was exceptionally haunting.

And to think that he’d constantly thought the things that came out of Bokuto’s mouth could be genius... maybe it had just been provoking. Blood boiling. As the others stifled their quiet snickers, Konoha reached for his pant pocket, the stiff outline of his cellphone taking the shape of his palm. Perhaps he could humor you. Just this once.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Good morning, Aki-chan!”

Snapping his head quick enough for whiplash, Konoha’s widened stare locked itself on your beaming profile. Putting two and two together, he reddened at the affectionate name you had gifted him.

“L-L/N-san, you don’t have to call me that...”

As you bent down to slip your outside shoes from your delicate feet, the boy couldn’t help but to ogle at your tantalizing figure, but quickly averted his gaze once you smirked at his actions. Keep it together, teenage hormones! he scolded himself.

“Why not, though? I mean, we’re dating now. You can call me by my first name too if you want, you know.”

That’s right. Fueled by the frustration he’d harbored for his friends, Konoha took the action of texting you back, saying that he’d taken up your offer. Your reply was nothing short of innocent giddiness and delirium that he’d felt the searing tightness of regret in his chest.

But it wasn’t like you wouldn’t be able to see through his intentions soon enough. If anything, you’d even brought it up during your “confession”. You’ll be fine, Konoha had convinced himself. Like the rumors said, if you didn’t like it, you’d probably just leave. You knew that much, at least.

“I don’t think couples immediately start calling each other by their given names on the first day they go out. Besides, isn’t this just a trial run?”

“You’re supposed to get the entire experience in a trial run, right?”

“Well yes, but—”

“Don’t you want to get as much out of two months as possible?”

He’d almost forgotten about the limited time he’d have to use you against Bokuto and Komi before you mentioned it to him again. Two months is long enough, he thought, the effect will last even longer if they knew I was dating L/N-san.

“Right, L/N-san.”

“Y/N.”

“Um... L/N...chan?”

“Y/N-chan.”

“Anyway!” Konoha slammed the door to his shoe locker for emphasis, privy to his crimson cheeks. “Homeroom’s about to begin. D’you want me to take you to your class on my way?”

You looked up at him placidly, “Class 5 is on the end of the hallway though... Won’t that mean I’d be taking you to your class?”

Moving behind you to give you an encouraging push on your shoulders, your new boyfriend sighed hurriedly, “Yes, yes. Let’s just go already, L/N-san.”

And like it was your birthday, your face lit up like Christmas lights. Pulling the arms that rested on your arms so it wound securely around your torso, you looked over your shoulder to send the flushed second-year a grin.

“Oookay! The Aki-chan-Y/N-chan train is leaving the station, hold on tight~”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

The face Iori gave you made you think your lungs would fall off from laughing. Your light-haired classmate blinked twice before realizing that his knife was close to grazing his finger. Giving the fragrant chocolate one last slice, the bassist turned to you for affirmation.

“Taichou’s cheating on Lennon-chan... How daring...”

Veins popping from the grip on the rolling pin, you leered at him from where you were standing. “Do the three of you still think I’m married to my guitar?”

“Of course—Ow! Don’t hit me with a pin if you know I’m right!”

“Now, now, L/N-san, Tsuyoshi-san, don’t get too excited about making cookies back there,” your bearded Home Economics teacher (who’d heavily reminded you of an endearing bear) guffawed heartily, before turning to the left side of the class in utter concern. “W-wait, Shirofuku-san, don’t directly eat the dough!”

Nudging you with his elbow, Iori whispered, “So... two months? How do you know the guy’s not just using you to get back at the Volleyball Club?”

Turning on the tap, you let the cool torrent of water pool in your hands before replying to your bandmate earnestly.

“Oh, he is using me to get back at the Volleyball Club. I figured it out when he texted me back. ‘S not a big deal, though.”

Iori’s shoulder drooped in melancholy. It was sad, on the verge of plain out pathetic. You were his friend, for Heaven’s sake. Yet, he knew you were lonely. Of course, he felt eternally relieved that at least he and the rest of PARANOIA could temporarily lift that despondency from you. But due to God’s intent, neither of them were fated to completely understand your dispositions. And for that, he lamented behind the wall that the world planted around you, unable to reach out nor sympathize. If this Konoha guy was your last resort to your long-term goal of universal comprehension, then it better not be a big deal.

“People say it takes about 2 to 3 months to fall in love with a person. If these two months don’t turn our relationship in the path we want, then... I don’t care if we break up too. It wasn’t like I expected much from myself in the first place.”

“Taichou...”

In the solemn silence that followed your words, your nose perked up at a certain toasty smell coming from behind your friend.

“Iori-kun, the chocolate.”

“Don’t change the subject. You need to consider if this “relationship” will really make you happy.”

“Iori-kun, it’s burning.”

“I know despite your flaming desire for love, you—Aagh!! My chocolate! Taichou, why didn’t you say anything?!”

You scratched your nape as you watched your frantic classmate splash the bowl of darkened chocolate with a flood of cold water, kindling plumes of sweet-smelling smoke to rise softly in the class.

Happiness. You frowned back at Iori’s words (as the latter sobbed at his valiant efforts in scraping his overly-meticulous work from the steaming bowl). I’m already happy enough though.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“L/N-san... You don’t have to follow me to lunch on the first week,” Konoha grimaced at the girl trailing behind him through the staircase.

“Why not though? We’re—”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he rustled, “We’re dating. Yes, yes... But don’t you usually sit with your band during this time? Won’t they ask where you are?”

You hummed hopping down the last few steps before turning around gracefully in front of your boyfriend. “Mm... I think they’ll be more thankful they’re getting a day off from me. Don’t worry though, I won’t say anything if I don’t have to!”

Oh boy.

“L/N-chan’s at our lunch spot...” Bokuto murmured blankly.

Amongst the burly volleyball players eating their lunches in the courtyard, you seemed like a dainty flower about to be devoured by a pack of Titans—as if you weren’t the more threatening one in the bunch. While the familiar third-years gawked with their heads short-circuiting in your presence, the meek first-year setter politely bowed, his obvious ignorance of you surfacing.

“L/N-chan’s eating lunch with us...” you watched Bokuto aimlessly mumble against the yakisoba bread in his mouth.

“Bokuto! Don’t go to the light! W-we’re sorry about this, L/N-chan,” Komi shook the owl-headed spiker in his trance. Thrusting his own box of food towards you, he reddened. “P-please have some of my sausages as an apology, O’ Great Deity!”

Sarukui pulled the libero back by his blazer, sending the boy flying backwards with his bento still thankfully intact. “Hey, Komi, don’t just suddenly ambush a girl like that... Say, L/N-san, you want to try some of my tamagoyaki*?”

“Saru, you leech!”

Anyone who was passing by could indefinitely tell that this group of people was undoubtedly hazardous. An overly-excited Bokuto who had sparks and smoke coming out of his head, an apprehensive Akaashi trying to calm their spiker down, Komi and Sarukui wrestling over their lunch boxes, a bulky but terrified Washio who was slowly edging away from the crowd, a Konoha who was gradually regretting his choices and a L/N Y/N, though seemingly frail, was able to create chaos with a bat of an eye.

Watching the entire ruckus go down, you did feel a bit bored. Gaze flickering to your side, your mouth watered, “Ooh, Aki-chan, is that spicy konnyaku*?”

“Huh? Yeah, you want some, L/N-san?” your boyfriend said, offering you his food nonchalantly.

Dipping your chopsticks into his box, you flashed him a beam brighter than any sparkling night. “Thank you for the food~ Mm, not spicy enough...”

In the silence where you chewed the stinging cake, the Volleyball Club’s bedlam had finally subsided. Their star-struck gazes at you replaced with incredulous glares at Konoha who proceeded with his meal in peace.

“‘Aki-chan’...” Komi repeated. “What’s going on with you two?”

Leering in mischief, Konoha grinned. Chest puffed out like a breasted bird, he set down his food before taking your hand and raising it for the rest to see. At the warmth of his hand, you couldn’t help but redden from the blood that rose to your face. Moments like this really did remind you why you thought he’d seemed so attractive from the beginning.

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet? We’re dating,” he smirked, making sure that he drew out each syllable, prolonging his announcement as much as possible.

“Huh?!”

Dwarfing the previous catastrophe into the size of an ant, the boys went frantic again. Even Bokuto who’d seemed so shocked by your attendance, snapped out of his daze from the outrageous amount of disbelief.

“E-eh?! Konoha and... L/N-chan... no way. That doesn’t make sense... something’s not right...”

You smiled behind the soft pads of your fingers. Noticing Konoha’s worried gesture, you played along, much to his delight, “What is it, Bokuto-kun? You also have girls surrounding you. What’s so different?”

“Ehhh? Lost your chances, Bokuto?” Konoha continued, the smirk on his face growing wider.

“Dammit! The Great Deity’s going to get stained... she’s going to get stained...” Komi wailed.

“Bokuto-san stopped breathing! Konoha-san, do something!”

He felt like it had rained after years and years of a drought. Refreshing. Cool. Satisfying. The same people who’d teased him for lacking a ‘chance’ was now melted in the head from his relationship. It was exactly how he wanted it to be. And you played it out so perfectly for him. A beautiful ‘girlfriend’ with a heart of gold.

Sighing, Konoha smiled at your giggling face. He wondered. For someone so advantaged and strange, you only seemed like a high school girl to him right now. Just his ‘girlfriend’ for two months. Not the genius L/N Y/N, not the zealous musician L/N Y/N. Just... L/N Y/N.

The shrill shriek of a chime brought you to wake, as you pulled him up from his seat while snickering. “It’s getting very loud here, isn’t it? Come, Aki-chan, I’ll take you to class again.”

Tightening his grip on yours, he gave you a knowing nod before following you to escape the scene in a trail of laughter. As the bell subsided in your wake, you didn’t even realize you’d arrived at the second-year hallways. And all that while interlacing hands.

Quickly retracting your hand, you sheepishly glanced at your shoes, “Ah, sorry. You probably don’t want to have that much physical contact so soon.”

Damn, if you were already pretty with even a poker face on, seeing your blushing face took the cake. “N-no, it’s fine. Thanks for backing me up back there. I don’t think anyone would’ve believed me if you didn’t say something.”

Tilting your head sideways, you said, “It was getting a bit dull, so I was glad we made it more lively. You’re very entertaining, did you know?”

“And so are you, Y/N-chan,” he smiled, ruffling your hair.

In the light of the midday sun, Konoha Akinori was blind to his own natural appeal. It was unfair and admittedly cool of him to just ensnare you with a dazzling twinkle, all while taking you by surprise with a reposeful call of your name. Your middle school classmate who’s now your temporary boyfriend... you just wanted to have him all to yourself forever.

He couldn’t deny it. You were magnetizing. Attractive in a way that lived beyond beauty and intelligence. Konoha couldn’t believe that someone so strange would make his chest go tight. It disappointed him that it would only be temporary. Once the two months expired, you’d treat him like no more than a stranger. But just this once, he wanted to relish this quiet moment with you.

Suddenly, like an iron wall had emerged from the ground between the both of you, your phone rang. You didn’t know if you felt relieved that your embarrassment was interrupted or were you annoyed because of it.

Quickly reading over the text, you smiled eagerly. “Ooh! Iori-kun finally finished the reservations for the live house!”

Konoha had almost forgot you were in a band. A rock band that consisted of you and three other male members. Lips faltering, he bit his tongue. They’re her bandmates, Akinori! What are you so jealous for? It’s not like you’re her real boyfriend or anything...

“Got a performance coming up, L/N-san?”

“Yep! It’s our first anniversary show since we formed PARANOIA,” you said, trailing off before a light bulb flickered in your head. “Do you want to come and watch? It’s in a few months.”

And like a cupid had shot his heart, Konoha found himself with a ticket for one to PARANOIA’s Anniversary Concert by the end of the day. Concert tickets that would expire the same day as your relationship.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

If you could list down all the things that happened this past few months, you’d probably end up describing it as “adventurous”. Even for you who’d expect a couple things or two from the start, the things you could do while in a relationship took you by surprise most of the time.

Little by little, your boyfriend had opened up to your usual audacious advances. Compared to the cuter, more nervous Konoha who you approached two months back, this Konoha was more bold, and vivacious. And unbearably even more attractive than you’d hoped he’d be. But he was considerate as usual—though you wished he wasn’t, because this ‘modesty’ of his was especially embarrassing on your end.

His friends slowly got used to your presence (while Bokuto was still slightly dazed from your relationship status). You came to the Volleyball Club’s practice matches, both under Konoha’s request and your own bored intentions. And it came to your attention that he flaunted his feathers more vigorously when you were around. Fukurodani’s Jack-of-All-Trades, Master of None... was much more of a show-off than you’d thought. How amusing, you’d think.

On the other hand, your bandmates had kept hanging on to their belief that you were still easily aroused when it came to your guitar (though you were very sure that it was more of a teasing gesture than their own immature stupidity). For this reason, you’d dragged a pale-faced Konoha to your practices in the Light Music Club more often than he’d hoped. He was your stamp of proof that even you had standards—a terrified-looking stamp that flinched whenever Reo spoke to him.

“Reo, you ever thought of putting on a Precure shirt on when you talk to people?” you’d said to him one day, as Konoha’s ears perked up from your conversation.

“No,” the drummer had replied vacantly, giving his other bandmates a boiling glare when they stifled their giggles.

“Ehh? Why not? Your gorilla face is just too intimidating for the world to get used to, so if you wear a shirt from the cute anime you love—”

“L-L/N! You promised to never say I liked Precure out loud! K-Konoha-san, please forget about this!”

And that day, you’d seen Konoha laugh. A genuine laugh not laced with nervousness or pity. A laugh caused by your own honest-to-morbid humor. It had been a pretty laugh. And Konoha admitted he hadn’t laughed so freely in such a long time.

There was also countless things he’d never done in such a long time, and all that was revived in a mere two months with you in tow. Eating spicy hotpot with you until his lips grew swollen, visiting a CD shop to spam all the music players in the store to play the same song, teaching someone to serve a ball, studying together in the library (though he ended up studying much less with your intricate rambling). Your penchant for boredom made you seem brighter to him. And Konoha began to wonder if it was a crime to finally realize he had feelings for you, even when he’d used you to get his friends off his back.

She’s better off not dating a jerk like me, he’d decided.

But it hurt. It was like a thousand daggers had pierced through his heart every second he thought that it’d be over soon. It hurt to admit that Konoha thought you were funny, pretty, smart and so goddamn endearing.

He loved you. He loves you. But just because he does, doesn’t mean you do.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Thank you for your support for this past year! Please continue to give PARANOIA your love for the following years to come!”

Your throat felt hoarse from the singing, but as soon as you stepped inside the dressing room, it was all squeals and giggles again. Even the high-strung Tsumugi, forehead shining in sweat, was jumping up and down with an equally excited Iori in his embrace. And for a while, Reo seemed much softer than his usual demeanor.

“Reo-kun~ That a smile on your face?” Iori teased once the four of you had settled down.

“Shut up, ‘Ori, you’re grinning like an idiot too,” he shot back.

Tsumugi piped up, untying his tie from your stage outfits, “It’s good that we’re smiling, isn’t it? We played really well, we should at least appreciate ourselves for that effort.”

Moving towards your unsuspecting underclassman, you poked him behind his ear, amusedly watching him flinch and swat your hand away. “Ah, MugiMugi’s talking like a wise, old man, but that totally contradicts how much you were hopping around during our last song, right? Young people are cute, aren’t they?”

Blushing profusely, he scoffed, “Don’t call me cute when you have a boyfriend. That’s just troublesome, senpai.”

And like the devil had ushered for him, a knock sounded on the door. Reo, closest to the entrance, swung the door open and gave their guest a pleased smile.

“Ooh... it’s Konoha. Thought it’d be my admirers or something,” he muttered in a mock pout.

“Ehh, you have plenty of admirers out there, Mizushima-san,” Konoha chuckled. “But I’m here for your guitarist.”

When Reo, Tsumugi and Iori moved out of your way to rush to the exit to “leave the both of you alone”, you placed your hands on your boyfriend’s shoulders. “Say, Aki-chan, let’s go on a date right now.”

“Right now?! Where?”

“There’s an arcade nearby,” you chirped before leaning over to whisper flatly into his ear, “It’s our last day. Let’s make it count.”

He nodded, but his face faltered at your forced grin as you led him out the door in your typical “Aki-chan-Y/N-chan train” fashion. Last day, huh? That’s right. Konoha had nearly forgotten about it. And the fact that you’d brought it up panged across his chest. This “train” of yours could just be the last time he’d ever be so close to you. The real you.

After that, nothing.

Determination crowning his face, he grabbed your hand as you exited the live house and rushed to get to the arcade as soon as his legs could carry him. Too soon. Two months passed by too soon. Not yet. Not yet.

It couldn’t end like this.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“For someone with really good analytical senses, you suck at claw machines.”

You elbowed his side, laughter bubbling from your lips. “Look who’s talking! You looked like you were going to eat me when I scored a point in that air hockey game.”

Stopping in his tracks on the quiet sidewalk, Konoha winced at the memory. Perhaps he should’ve held back, considering you were a girl. But that would’ve been a stupid move altogether, knowing that you’d expect his moves. Konoha won anyway, much to his surprise—but only to have the game spew out a total of zero tickets before you realized the machine was faulty.

“What did you get with your tickets?”

Rummaging in your pocket, you pulled out a plastic package with a silver chain glinting inside it. “A souvenir for you. Mm, if I had more tickets, I would’ve gotten you a rice cooker or something~”

Taking your offering, Konoha raised his eyebrows. “A flower necklace? Shouldn’t you keep this sort of present? I mean, you won it and everything—”

“Keep it. It’s a gift for putting up with me this entire time.”

“Ah... thanks.”

Konoha wanted to say something. Anything to make the moment last. Alas, nothing. You didn’t say anything either—not like you could. It’s over now. Everything has ended. Did you grow to love him in the end? You didn’t know.

“It’s... getting a bit late. We should go home,” Konoha said. Though he wished he didn’t. “I guess this is goodbye... Thanks for being my girlfriend, L/N-san.”

You said nothing in reply as he slowly turned his back to you to leave. It was a temporary thing, things that come and go. And he’d used you to his own advantage against his luckless friends. But why were you so worried about his goodbye? You’d pulled off this entire thing in hopes to feel a romantic love that you couldn’t comprehend. It was supposed to be fluffy and heart-pounding like your mother and your brothers’ manga had described it to be.

But it was painful. Like a skyrocketing jolt of pain that nearly made your knees buckle. Why? You didn’t even know if you could love someone when you’ve been isolating yourself for so long... You loved your family, you loved your band, but did you love Konoha? You didn’t get it. What’s with that...

“I don’t understand...”

Hearing a quiet sniffle with a familiar lilt, Konoha spun around to be met with your teary gaze. And it was like the entire word had been sucked into a meaningless void, and the both of you were left to inhabit this desolate world.

“H-hey, L/N-san... d-don’t cry, come on,” he rushed to your aid as more tears rolled down your cheek soundlessly. Oh, how Konoha wished he knew how to comfort a crying girl. “Look, I’m here. I-it’s okay, it’s okay. Agh, I’m not very good at this... um...”

“I’m sorry I made you do this,” you wept. “I’m sorry I forced you into dating someone you don’t like. Everything’s all wrong...”

“Y-you don’t have to apologize! It was fun, everything was fun with you,” he blabbered, hands rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I-it was my fault too... I just wanted to get back at Bokuto and Komi that I—”

Crap, he said it.

“I knew you were using me for that. I’ve always known.”

Konoha froze. Of course you’d find out, he’d established that point the moment he texted you in agreement. But something about your revelation made it feel like he had committed homicide. He really just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I thought I wouldn’t mind if you broke up with me since you’d accomplished your goal... but I’m so upset. You used me but you treated me well. You used me but you made me feel loved. You don’t seem to have any feelings for me, but you made me like you... like like you. I don’t get what you’re trying to do. Konoha-kun’s so confusing...”

The entire time you’d been making him feel butterflies in his stomach... you were trying to understand him? Konoha frowned. Gutting any residual feeling of doubt, he grabbed a plastic package in his coat pocket and shoved it in your hands.

“You don’t have to understand anything if it makes you happy!”

Your blood ran cold. He’d never shouted at you. But the determined expression on his face urged you to open the package sitting daintily in your palm. It was the same chrysanthemum necklace you’d given him. Was he giving it back? No... this necklace was slightly different from the one you gave him.

“I got it for you when you were out to the restroom. I was planning to confess to you with this after our date, but you made it seem like you didn’t like me. What’s with that, huh? Of course I like you! You don’t think I regret using you for a petty revenge every single moment we went out? When you made it so hard for me to not fall for you?”

Konoha couldn’t even hear the words coming out of his mouth. Whatever they were, he hoped he got his message through to you. Good and honest. Honest and true. Panting, he watched your tears slowly subside.

Wiping the droplets with the sleeve of your jacket, you weakly punched him on the chest. “You’re an idiot for falling for me.”

Ruffling your hair, he sighed, “That makes two of us. Idiot.”

As the silence dwindled, you played with the hems of your skirt as you spoke quietly, “So, are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Confess.”

“Ha... now? Right here?” he groaned with a cheeky cadence.

“Don’t mess around. I’ll definitely cry again if you don’t do it.”

Chuckling, Konoha pulled back from you with the necklace he’d gifted you back in his hands. “Yes, yes. How bossy...”

He bowed. In the middle of a public sidewalk. But it didn’t matter, because whatever was going to happen next was in your control.

“L/N Y/N-san! I’ve always liked you since middle school when we were on cleaning duty together and you helped me erase the blackboard. My feelings died out for a while because I thought you’d be too distracted to acknowledge me, but after two months of your “trial experiment”, I’ve grown to like you again. So please! Go out with me.”

“Ehh... that was much blander than I’d thought...”

Suddenly, Konoha knew how Reo felt when he’d wonder whether or not you were giving out enlightenment or backhanded comments. Clicking his tongue, he crossed his arms. “How would you do it?”

Proudly clearing your throat, you bowed as he did. “Konoha Akinori-kun, the ignorant fool from Class 2. I’ve come to realize my feelings for you. Though I don’t remember the ‘you’ from middle school, I’m glad you were there to remember me anyway. You were right. The time we spent together was fun; I don’t think I’ll ever get bored with you around... If you will, please accept my humble feelings. I want to keep understanding things with you. That itself would bring me the greatest joy in the world.”

“That... that was actually pretty good. Though, let’s talk about the part where you called me an ignorant fool—”

As Konoha spoke, you reached into his pocket to extract the necklace you’d given him earlier. Placing it in his palm, you smiled warmly, relishing in the blush that dusted his face. “I’ll be in your care, Aki-chan.”

Slipping his own necklace into your hold, he clasped your hands together. “So will I, Y/N-chan.”

And like déjà vu, your stomach rumbled loudly. Embarrassing, you groaned.

Taking one hand in his, the both of you walked through the sidewalk. “Wanna eat? I’ll pay.”

“...Sichuan hotpot*...” you said under your breath.

“No way! I’ll end up with diarrhea like last time. We’ll just eat fast food...”

“Ehehe, Aki-chan can’t handle spicy food~”

“Y/N-chan, pick on me one more time and I’ll split the bill.”

As the two of you burst out in laughter, your arms swung back on forth against the course of the wind. Neither of you even thought of letting go.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“K-Konoha’s wearing a flower necklace... Dude. If you have a secret you want to tell us, we can always financially support you...”

“Bokuto, I don’t know what ridiculous things are going on in your head, but I know they’re absolutely wrong.”

Buttoning up the last button of his shirt, he slipped the silver chain behind the fabric, it’s steel coolness imprinting itself near his tepid heart. Noticing the faint chirps of little sparrows, Konoha turned his attention to the light streaming from the west-side window. Autumn’s here.

“Hey, are you going to eat with L/N-san again today?” the ever-smiling Sarukui called for him from the door.

“Ah, yeah. She said she wanted to show me a new song she was working on.”

Chuckling, his friend let out a long breath, “Lucky you.”

Konoha smiled. Lucky indeed, he thought as you waved at him from where you stood below. In the green of the plush fall grass, yellow, pink, red and white blossoms surrounded the courtyard where you’d first approached him. Yellow, pink, red, white, and two silver chrysanthemums to welcome the new season.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Glossary:

taichou - captain/leader

tamagoyaki - japanese rolled omelettes

konnyaku - japanese yam cakes

sichuan hotpot - a REALLY spicy hotpot with sichuan peppers

[hobicomeholla29]

Chronicle of a heartbreak Foretold - P1

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/ Lovers to Enemies

Word Count:1.9k

Warnings: Cheating/ Heartbreak/ Distrust/ Lying/ Manipulating/ Cursing

Rating: PG

A/N: Unedited. This is part of the October project for Castle Bangtan. Which was take a popular trope and reverse it. Hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Park Jimin was what you had always wanted in a man and maybe also what you didn’t want.

Masterlist

Intro

December 15th

Oh December 15, you are one hell of a memory.

Who could forget the first time Jimin had tried ‘befriending’ Taehyung?

You had barely told your best friend about the new guy in your department who had quickly turned into your boyfriend.  Gushed about him until he couldn't take it any longer.

Every waking second where Taehyung would give you an opening, you would take the chance to talk about Jimin.

“I get it… you feel like this dude is it for you.”

“He-“

“He’s not. He’ll hurt you and you know it deep down.”

And just like you took every chance to speak about him. Taehyung took every chance to shoot you down on the spot.

Now, the memories of that day had nothing to do with you and more to do with Jimin giving him another reason to despise him.

According to Taehyung’s angry phone call that day, Jimin was acting a fool.

They ran into each other at work. Now you think maybe working with your best friend and your boyfriend wasn’t the best idea. But what was done was done.

"Ay, what's up?" Just the opening of that conversation was catastrophic. It was meant to be such a disaster that people around them who had no clue about what was going on, knew that the outcome would be negative.

Taehyung nursed a hot beverage, using all of his self-restraint to avoid pouring it over the young man in front of him.

"Hey" his face remained stoic during his answer.

"I'm Y/n's boyfriend. Jimin."

"I know" no change whatsoever.

"And you're her best friend, right? Taehyung?"

"Yes."

 What was the need? What was the reason? Taehyung couldn’t quite figure it out. But there had to be a hidden agenda behind why this man -who he was sure knew he despised him- was trying to initiate a conversation with him.

 "So, I was wondering..."

 About what? He wondered. There was nothing he could ask from a stranger. Because that is what they were until then.

 "Do you think there's a possibility that I could borrow like 2k from you? I had this thing come up and really need the mo-"

The scoff and amused smile that followed, effectively cut Jimins's sentence off.

 "You must be kidding."

"I'm not..." He had the audacity to say that with a 'genuine' smile.

 "Listen here dude. I don't like you and even if I did like you, I don't know you and even if I knew you, I wouldn’t give you 2k just cause you asked."

 What pissed Taehyung off the most, was that fact that you had mentioned to him that Jimin was going on a trip to Busan in a week to visit his best friend Hoseok and they had a whole lot of activities planned. So how come if he had an emergency, he couldn’t cancel his trip and use the money for that.

Yet who was Taehyung to confront Jimin about an issue that had nothing to do with him.

 The phone call that you received that night was hurtful, a bit annoying and a tad uncomfortable.

Taehyung told you about the entire thing. Brought up the trip to Busan. Told you to end things with Jimin. That he was using you for who knows what reason. That someone who lies to their girlfriend about something so small is only hiding something worse.

 “I’m not going to stay around forever to protect you!”

“I didn’t ask for your protection or anyone’s, Taehyung!”

“Well you evidently need it ‘cause no sense is entering that thick skull of yours! Your boyfriend is using you! Bye!”

 The warnings -to you- we're unnecessary and uncalled for. But he was only looking out for you, right?

January 1st

 Some days, you just forgot about all the bad that surrounded your relationship. All the ominous air that exuded from the ground, the walls, the people, and anyone who sentenced your love to death.

You contrasted all of it with a bubble. A bubble that couldn’t be destroyed from the outside, a bubble that contained only Jimin and yourself. Keeping you both safe from the toxicity in the air.

 "Happy 4-month anniversary babe!"

"Happy anniversary Jimin!"

 You were so excited about today. Jimin had promised a day full of fun and laughter. Both of you relaxing from a stressful week at work and enjoying your 4-month anniversary.

 It all began with him picking you up —well technically going to your apartment and having you drive to the place— but that wasn't important.

You opened the door to your apartment with excitement, bouncing on your tippy toes in expectance of your loving boyfriend.

The view in front of you didn't disappoint. His blue-gray hair swept to the side, white buttoned-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slim fit slacks with a pair of loafers. His eyes crinkled as a reaction to his wide smile, his cute little teeth showing up to greet you.

In his hands, a turquoise box presented itself with a red bow around it. You didn’t expect for him to buy you anything for a 4-month celebration.

 "Aww, baby you didn't have to. What is it?"

"Open it and you’ll see."

 You both took a step inside the apartment and took a seat on the couch, setting the box on the coffee table, ready to investigate the contents of the box. Your hands shook with excitement, a reflection of the speed of your heartbeats.

Slowly undoing the bow, careful not to rip it and removing the cover for the box, you were left speechless, when did he even get the time or money to buy you this.

The gasp heard throughout the room, was a clear indication of the feelings roaming your body.

 "You did not!" Your eyes were saucers as they stared at him.

"But I did!" He smiled widely.

"No frikin way!"

"Yes, way!"

"How did you get LawBreakers Collector's edition. I thought it was sold out?"

"Not for my baby, she gets what she wants."

"You are the best!" You said, hugging him around the neck so abruptly that, you ended up knocking both of you off the couch.

“That I am!” He said in between giggles as he stroked your cheek lovingly.

 Needless to say, the rest of your day got even better as Jimin took you to a nice restaurant for dinner, later guiding you to a park for a late night walk as you both spoke about everything and nothing and back to the apartment to play with your new game for a while until he finally had to go.

  January 20th

 As per Jimin's text the day prior, he wanted some help arranging his apartment. He said something about getting rid of old stuff he no longer needed and open space for newer things, so as the dutiful and helpful girlfriend you are, you complied.

 You arrived as early as possible, meaning 10am since Jimin —and your self— slept a lot.

You began at the bedrooms and expected to finish in the living room.

You were currently cleaning the spare bedroom, trying to not meddle too much into his personal things, limiting yourself to only touch and move stuff that were necessary for cleaning purposes and as soon as you were done, you set them back into their place.

In the process, you accidently stumbled into a box, knocking out its content.

You didn’t bother checking any of it and shoved it all back in with your hands.

 "Jiminie, where do you want this box?" You yelled from the room.

"Which one?" his head popped through the door as he asked.

You shook the box slightly, showing him the one you were speaking of.

 "I don't even know what's in there"

He sat on the floor beside you to inspect the contents of the box in question. finding a ton of old puzzles and... some letters.

You picked up one that he set on the side, investigating further, and noticing that they seemed to be addressed to him.

"Who's Naeun?" You asked.

"She's my ex, the one who helped me rent out this place, remember."

You did recall him mentioning her once or twice, but not enough to think about her much. Maybe you should have paid more attention.

"And you… keep the letters she gave you?" You knew how it sounded —like you were insecure— but it didn’t matter, you needed to hear his reasons, for your peace of mind.

 "Not 'cause I wanted to, I probably forgot about them, since I moved here when we were still together. Just get rid of them."

"Ok..." The inner peace never came, but you pushed down the feeling and did as requested.

 You walked with a small pile of at least 20 letters in hand, ready to dispose of them in the kitchen’s trash. Yet you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t throw the out. Why not?! They weren’t written for you or by you. But they felt heavy in your hands. And without a second though you hid them in the backpack you had brought with you, quickly returning to cleaning.

 3 hours went by of cleaning and re-arranging stuff. Your letter misappropriation, already forgotten. You decided on ordering some sushi and sat on the living room’s floor enjoying this long-awaited break.

 "So..." You began hesitantly.

"What? What are you thinking?" he eyed you expectantly.

"What was she like?" you blurted out.

"Who?" He asked, half a roll in his mouth.

"Naeun… what was she like?"

"Oh, she was nice…  at the beginning of our relationship. She was caring and loving. We had a lot of fun together, and she was very giving. We met back in Busan and we lived together for a while, but… then she started to change… and she started coming home less and less, until one day she came home… smelling like perfume… another man’s perfume for that matter and on the following day they showed up together, just to tell me that she had to leave and could no longer be with me..."

 "No…"

It broke your heart; how could someone be so selfish. She could have at least broken up with him first and why bring the dude to his place or …well their place. Suddenly you remembered the letters and felt bad. Maybe those letters were her apologizing to him or maybe being cruel and giving him goodbyes. You were prying, you knew that, but you couldn’t fix it now. You would wait until you were home and get rid of them like you should have from the very beginning.

 "Yeah, she took some of my stuff as well when she left."

"That's so unfair, you should have fought for your things babe." how could she?

"At the time I didn't feel like I wanted things that could later remind me of her. But I guess I should have fought for them... at least the important ones."

“What kind of things did she take? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all. We used to have 2 gaming consoles; she took one. Also took away a couple of my shirts. Some Jewelry; nothing expensive. And games.”

You nodded in understanding, letting a silence fall over both of you after his last sentence.

The remaining rolls were swiftly consumed right after and in the blink of an eye, you were back to cleaning.

[rrasado]

What if MC worked as a detective before coming to the devildom ?

GENDER NEUTRAL MC

(Keep in mind I'm not in anyway experienced in writing this type of stuff or anything for that matter so bear with me)

MC at one point interned at Scotland yard and became an apprentice to a famous detective *cough*Holmes*cough*

To say that they were good at the job was an understatement.

So when they went to London and Grisella's murder happened, Mc felt giddy then went ahead and solved it in their head secretly.

"I know who killed Grisella" Mc claps their hand in delight then drags the brothers to the cart of the incident yet feeling disappointed that 'It took them this long to solve it'

MC was about to begin their deduction when Satan out of nowhere pushes them to the back pleading to 'let him take it from their'

MC annoyed reluctantly lets Satan to take the show and is slightly impressed with his deduction regarding the knife.

'His deduction isn't too bad considering he's a fan of that fictional detective he loves but still..'

MC letting Satan have their moment before coughing to get everyone's attention

"As usual... majority of people only see but do not observe"

Gets a questioning look from Satan before MC gives him a curt nod and pushing HIM to the back this time.

Satan almost yelling in protest before Hearing MC say "Everything that my friend here said was true... but I can further strengthen his case a lot more if you'd let me elaborate myself"

MC feeling giddy not realizing the smirk forming on their lips 'might as well put on a little show for them'

"if you looked closely, you'd notice the knife tilted slightly towards the left."

Satan's smile went away as quickly as it came, how could he miss such detail? He looked back at the knife and sure enough it WAS tilted to the left ever so slightly.

"If that detail were to be followed... the killer at the very least should be left handed for it to match up. I saw Noah in particular writing a check with his left hand for their food earlier when we first entered, so it's plausible that he IS the killer"

A sigh escaping MC's lips when they remembered what their mentor used to tell them

"Eliminate the impossible for whatever remained ,no matter what, is the truth... that's what my mentor told me case after case"

MC glancing at everyone taking in every little detail they could

"It'd only be fair if we investigate all three if them don't you think"

Without even waiting for an answer MC glanced at Sophia

"Throwing a knife in a dimly lit cart requires a lot of precision on not only the eyes but also your hands, judging by Ms, Sophia's gloves... I can safely say that she isn't the Killer, Her gloves are made of satin, a very slippery type of fabric, so wearing such thing during a crucial time would only hinder her success of killing off Grisella."

Satan not fully convinced buts in "But what if she removed her gloves before throwing the knife?"

MC rolling their eyes, then giving Satan a bored look. "No she can't, the lights went out for only 3 seconds so she couldn't have had time to remove her gloves"

Satan stayed quiet after that

"Lucas on the other hand couldn't have also killed Grissella because he has ADHD"

"H-how...did you know? We never mentioned my brother's state" MC doesn't even bat an eye before explaining.

"His eyes doesn't stay on one object for more than 5 seconds, and he keeps moving and squirming in his sit. He wasn't even paying attention and kept spacing out. The fact that his knee keeps bouncing subconsciously suggests that he has ADHD...am I correct?"

Lucas reluctantly nodded and finally spoke up. "Yes... you are correct"

MC finally looked at Noah with a raised eyebrow

"Noah... is it a mannerism of yours to hide your hands in your pockets?"

Que His eyes widening before MC turnes back to the others explaining further

"There's actually another detail about the knife worth noticing. The handle itself has a very grainy type of texture. If I were the killer I would've clutched the knife very tightly under my clothes waiting for the perfect time to strike... but all that clutching could lead to the handle's texture being engraved on the palm of my hand"

MC without warning abruptly grabs Noah's arm raising his left hand, him still refusing to reveal his palm

"If you are truly innocent you would've let your hand be loose in my grip"

"And if I were truly questioning an innocent man then they would've been and irritated, On the other hand if I was questioning the guilty they would've been nervous and anxious."

Noah was already about to lose it but MC kept going.

"The uncanny amounts of sweat forming on your forehead, eyes frantically looking anywhere else but me and your adam's apple abnormally moving up and down... I'd say your nervous"

MC smiling innocently as if nothing happened takes a step back from Noah.

"I...it's true... I killed her"

'Ahhhh I've always loved the feeling of getting a suspect to confess. It just proves that I haven't lost my touch'

"B...but why?" MC didn't even spared a glance at who asked and just answered abruptly.

"Isn't it obvious? He always wanted to be Grissella's apprentice. But being rejected every time allowed him to grow an unseething anger towards her"

Noah's eyes staring at MC in utter shock "H-how did you know my motive?"

"In my line of work even the simplest things can turn into a killer's motive, trust me, you aren't the first"

Satan raises a brow at this,

"What do you mean 'Line of Work' ?

Lucas finally realizing something before pointing a finger at MC

"Now I know why you seemed familiar... you're that apprentice who solved the London Heist case! Iv'e seen you on the papers before! You were only an intern at Scotland yard,"

MC still smiling while Lucifer,Mammon and Satan stood by the sidelines surprised.

The train's security guards rushing in to apprehend Noah then chewing off MC for 'Meddling with the adult's business' before pulling out their I.D. from their wallet

"I'm so sorry gentlemen I forgot to introduce myself..."

Queue the guards apologizing profusely then dragging off Noah away from the other passengers.

Then brothers finally coming to their senses

"I never knew you had such authority here in the Human world MC... It was quite a surprise"

But on the inside Satan was fanboying cause 'MC looked a lot like his idol detective when they were deducing'

Let's just say Satan didn't leave MC alone for a week after that.

[liberolove]

Our Great Perhaps

Pairing: Nishinoya x reader

Summary: You two have been dating for about 3 years. You met him in your first semester of college, and you two have been pretty strong. Now, however, taking into account each of your career paths has brought up issues. Maybe, it wasn’t meant to be.

Genre: crack, angst, college au (first part)

Warnings: cussing

Part Two || Part One: here

The drive back to your house was casual and friendly, but you could definitely sense a bit of tension.

He dropped you off and left. As soon as you were inside your home, you immediately burst out into tears.

There was no way he was waiting. Especially not for you. He needed a shot at love. You weren’t there, but she was. He’s probably happier now, too.

You curled up into bed and fell asleep from the exhaustion of crying so much.

~~~~~~~

Your first week back home flew by quickly. The new branch was getting along nicely, and everything was running smoothly. Your friends would drop by from time to time, asking about the latest details of your love life. That’s when you mentioned to them whom you had bumped into earlier that week.

“Oh my gosh!” “How’d it go!?” “Do you still have feelings for him?” “He has a girlfriend, now, by the way. They’ve only been dating for about 5 months now.”

The barrage of questions was overwhelming, but you got to each of them. And you were heavily interested in his new girlfriend. Just how much did your friends know about her?

“She’s a nurse, so she’s always busy. She met Nishinoya when one of his students sprained their ankle, while playing. Sometimes, when I bump into him on the street and he’s on his phone, I hear them arguing or something. And they never really go out, so I don’t know what they’re like out on dates and stuff.”

Wow. It really seemed like your friends did some investigating for you. It was nice to know that they’ll always have your back. But, you knew that this wasn’t something you should really be meddling in. He has his life and you have yours.

You two can be friends and all, but nothing more. No matter how desperately you wanted it. You missed everything about him. His new girlfriend was the luckiest girl in the world.

“Oh by the way, y/n!! Since we’re already on the topic... Guess who texted me yesterday, asking for YOUR number???”

“No way. Don’t tell me.”

“NISHINOYA!”

“Why would he want my number?”

“He just told me he wanted to keep talking to you and stay in touch.”

You couldn’t believe it. Was it really happening? Nishinoya still wanted to talk to you.

Your phone buzzed. All your friends stared at the screen. “Well, speak of the devil.”

The message read: Hey, y/n! It’s Noya. I hope you don’t mind but I got your number from xxx. I just wanted to keep talking and be close again like back in college (:

You were sure that your heart had completely shut down by then. Even if you couldn’t be around Nishinoya in the way you wanted, you sure as hell weren’t going to decline this.

You were so excited and nervous at the same time, that you almost forgot to reply.

“Y/N! You’ve gotta say something!!”

“Alright already! I will! I just don’t know what to say..”

“Just say a simple hey? Like you’re interested but not TOO interested, ya know?”

“Okay, got it.” You began typing: Hey, Noya! I don’t mind, and yeah of course. I’d love to keep talking (:

The rest of the night was full of the juiciest gossip of the town and exchanging ridiculous worst date stories.

~~~~~~~

As the weeks dragged on, you found yourself texting Noya more than anyone else. He was the highlight of your days. 

Every time your phone buzzed with a message from him, your heart would skip a beat. You’d still think over exactly what you wanted to say to him, being careful not to cross any boundaries. 

Unbeknownst to you, Nishinoya was feeling the exact same way. 

You two talked about literally everything in the world. Except for one topic: his girlfriend. There was no way you could bring her up in conversation casually. It would be crossing the line, definitely.

~~~~~~~

It was just another average day. You were pooped after having to work so much that week. You were looking forward to relaxing on the couch and catching up on your favorite sitcoms. 

Noya had been texting you nonstop all day. It felt great, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he texted her like this too.

What are you up to tonight?

Oh, you know the usual. Just gonna snack and watch Netflix. How about you?

Not much. Still trying to decide what I wanna do. What are you gonna watch?

I’m in the mood to rewatch That 70′s Show to be honest, lol.

I remember you watching that show every night! It’s pretty funny

Yeah, that’s why I watch it, lmao. 

You got room for one more?

Fuck. What the fuck. Was he being serious? Or joking around? You hadn’t seen him in a while, since you’re both so busy with work. But today, your days off coincided with one another. Sure, you two had hung out together before, but never somewhere as private as your home. You’d been to restaurants and bars, but that’s pretty much it. 

If he’s serious, that means he wants to come HERE. To YOUR house. He wants to be in YOUR house, with YOU. With you.. ALONE. 

Your mind was racing. With shaky fingers, you replied playfully: Only if you’re bringing takeout!

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Five minutes went by. Ten minutes. Soon enough, an hour had gone by, and no answer. 

Had I crossed the line? you asked yourself.

-BUZZ-

What’s your address? I’ve got sushi and more snacks (:

You quickly messaged him your address, with your heart ready to burst out of your chest, and your brain ready to explode. 

Another five minutes pass by. 

-KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK-

He still knocks three times.. You open the door and find him semi-dressed up in a cute red button up and dark blue slacks. He was glowing.

In his hands, he was carrying a bag of sushi and chow mein takeout. In the other hand, he had your favorite: Hot Cheetos. 

How the hell did he still remember everything about you?

“Hey, sunshine! Ready to binge watch some That 70′s Show?”

“Yeaah.” You let him in and placed the bags on the coffee table by the couch. You started setting everything up, still shaken up over his pet name for you. 

Noya quickly made himself comfortable on your couch, picking a spot right up next to you. The distance between you two shortening, every time he took a bite of his food. 

His hearty laughter made your heart flutter and your stomach flip. The show was funny, but not THAT funny. 

Before you knew it, your knees bumped into one another’s. The distance between you was nonexistent now. When your knees touched, you jumped a little, startled from the sudden intimacy.

“Oh, sorry! I guess I scooted in too close. I just didn’t want to be TOO far from you, you know?”

“Ha, it’s okay.”

The show droned on in the background, as you two fell silent. Nishinoya then grabbed the remote and muted the TV. 

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah? What is it, Nishi?” You regressed back to calling him the special nickname only you ever used, without realizing.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You meant it. You’d do anything for him in a heartbeat.

“Do you still remember the first time we met? In our psychology class, the first year of college?”

“How could I ever forget?”

“Did you feel like it was love at first sight, too?”

You hesitated. Why was he bringing this up? Right now, especially. You stared at him for what felt like ten minutes, taking him in again. He had changed physically from the last time you were with him in your old apartment. His eyebrows were well groomed, he grew a bit of chin stubble, and he had smile lines on his face.. 

But he was still the same person you fell in love with all those years ago.

The silence dragged on, until you interrupted it. “Yeah. It did feel like that, huh?”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me.” It seemed like he wanted to keep talking, but he stopped himself, mid-breath. He unmuted the TV and went back to watching, but the tension brought on by the questions still lingered in the air.

Unable to deal with the awkwardness, you started cleaning up, and stood up, right in front of him. “Why?”

Confused, he asked, “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? Why bring up the past? I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but I still have feelings for you, okay?”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the point of torturing me like this? You have a girlfriend..”

He got up immediately and pulled you in for an unexpected, sloppy kiss. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it, but you pushed him off anyways.

“Stop. Please. Don’t do this to me.”

“Kitty..” 

You couldn’t believe he was using his old pet name for you. All you could do was point at the door, baffled by his rapid change. 

He wasn’t moving. Instead, he pulled you in again, but with more force. He was restraining you while embracing you. 

“Let me go, please, Nishi. Don’t make this harder.”

You were practically sobbing at this point. Why couldn’t he understand that this was wrong? You weren’t his girlfriend, nor would you ever be. 

You felt your shirt dampen with his tears, as well. Why was he crying too?

“I broke up with her a week ago.. I’ve missed you so much.”

His hold on you loosened, and you took that as an opportunity to drape your arms around his neck, as you kissed the tears on his face away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Please believe me. I just want you, y/n. I’ve been waiting for you to come back. But after waiting for 4 years, I gave up. I started dating around, trying to find someone like you, but no one could ever compare. You’re the love of my life, y/n. Please don’t leave me again..”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“God, it’s been so hard to be here without you. I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I’ll always love you.”

“I love you and I’ll always love you too.”

That night, you two shared a bed again for the first time in seven years. Everything in the universe fell back into place. You had found your Great Perhaps.

[sugasweetsubs]

the world is cold and life’s not fair, baby [Yoongi x Reader] pt.3-1

3 | THAT’S THE TRUTH

Demon!Yoongi x Reader - Angst

Rated M (for violence, blood, strong language, mentions of death*)

*more warnings will apply in future chapters

Words: 8k

Pt.3.2 of 4 (previous | next)

As soon as her call with Yoongi disconnects, Y/N sags onto her bed. It wasn’t the most elegant conversation she’s ever had, but it got the job done. Lifting a hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose in an attempt to stem a quickly building headache.

She was going to be seeing him. Today. And that left her both terrified and relieved.

She knows it won’t be easy, but, now that most of the initial shock and anger have subsided, she also realizes that she has no idea what she actually wants to do about Yoongi.

In many ways, it was easier in the beginning, when Yoongi was nothing but the mysterious owner of a fight club. A name to be feared, but nothing more than a name.

But now… now Yoongi is someone who has let her meddle in his life for the sake of her brother; someone who nearly got stabbed for the sake of the search. More simply, and maybe more importantly, he’s someone who made her laugh--at 2 AM in a middle-of-nowhere diner no less--when no one else had been able to do so for a long, long time.

There is no doubt that he’s abrasive, hard to read, and a little too good at fighting for her comfort. But, it was the softer moments in between that kept her from calling the police then, and that keep her from being able to hate him now.

A frustrated sigh escapes her as she pushes herself into a sitting position. She shakes her head and tells herself that none of those things matter. Regardless of her personal feelings for Yoongi, good or bad, she needs him in order to find her brother. That is what matters.

With that as her resolve, she begins to prepare for their meeting.

____________________________________

Yoongi doesn’t handle waiting well. It isn’t long after his call with Y/N disconnects that the itching discomfort of impatience settles deep into his skin. The urges have been getting worse lately. He started noticing them not long before Y/N showed up at his door for the first time; it was only the brief interlude her presence had afforded that distracted him from the growing reminder. But, as history has shown, it is not something he can afford to keep ignoring. Sooner or later he will have to release the pent up chaos that is his power, the only variable is how much destruction he’ll bring when he does it. For the moment, however, the situation isn’t critical. He will deal with it after settling this investigation mess.

Glancing at his clock, he calculates the time he has before Y/N arrives. Judging it to be far too much for him to remain in his office, he takes the opportunity to rise from his chair and exit to where his assistant sits. After instructing the man behind the desk to keep an eye out for the information his sources are supposed to be sending, he weaves his way through the hallways that take him to the main practice room of the compound.

The “room” is more of a gymnasium, a large, open space sectioned off into five different areas. Each corner contains various equipment, with two set up with machines for weight training; one with lockers and benches for fighters to store equipment and rest; and the fourth acting as a makeshift infirmary with cabinets full of supplies for basic first aid, and gurneys for those who can only be wheeled out. The fifth and final area dominates the center of the space, acting as a ring for practice fights. It’s a simple setup, with mats on the ground and a few ropes marking the fighting zone, but it gets the job done.

Even now, two fighters are in the ring practicing footwork. At Yoongi’s arrival, they stop their drills and turn to watch him. One grins and gives a slight wave, the other blanches and looks away. Yoongi gives neither more than a cursory glance, though he notes their movement out of the corner of his eye when they exit the ring and start packing up. Smart people. They know that there’s usually only one reason that Yoongi himself makes an appearance in the practice room.

Yoongi searches the space. It’s a typical day for the club, and as such there are plenty of members walking around, chatting, and making use of equipment. However, a sudden hush spreads like a wave over the room for a moment as news of Yoongi’s arrival spreads, but sound surges a moment later as they begin to guess at the reason for his appearance. Most try to be discreet, but Yoongi can feel the eyes on him. He ignores the attention and continues his search.

“You," he calls out, finally finding what he is looking for in a young man who sits on a nearby bench, carefully wrapping his hand with support tape.

At the sound of Yoongi’s voice, the fighter looks up and spends a moment searching around, confused. Then he nearly pops out an eyeball when his gaze lands on Yoongi, who stands looking at him expectantly.

"Me?" He has paused his taping and now points at his chest, a bewildered look on his face.

"Yes, you. Ring. Now." The words are short, clipped. Now that the ring is in sight, the itch of his impatience has become a burn.

Startled blue eyes go even wider for a fraction of a second before the fighter's expression shifts into an eager grin, "you got it, boss."

As the man starts to tape his second hand, Yoongi readies himself. He first walks over to a small sink set into the wall near the medical equipment, and scrubs the spill of pen ink off his hand. A faded stain of gray remains, but he is no longer in danger of leaving marks on everything he touches. He then returns to one of the benches in the opposite corner and methodically removes his suit jacket and the white shirt he wears underneath. Despite the screaming need to jump into a fight, he takes the time to neatly fold the clothing and place it on the bench. He then bends to undo the laces of his black leather shoes before sliding both the shoes and the socks underneath the same bench.

Standing, Yoongi catches the roll of white tape that the fighter tosses to him. He makes quick work of wrapping his hands. While he could easily go without it, it is always good to keep up appearances. Finished with the tasks, Yoongi walks to meet the fighter in the roped-in practice ring.

"Gotta say, I've always wondered if I'd get the chance to knock you on your ass," the fighter calls out from the other side of the circle. "Everyone's so scared of you, but if you ask me, everyone has to fall some time." The words are said with an arrogance that can only come from youth. Yoongi wants to laugh.

"Perhaps," is all he says.

They both walk closer to the center of the ring. A woman, who the young fighter calls “Soojin” when she steps into the ring, takes the place of an official. Soojin quickly lays out the terms of the practice fight, accepting various tweaks from both Yoongi and the fighter--who he learns is named Joel. That done, Soojin steps out from the ring and raises an arm to signal the start of the match.

And just like that, they are fighting.

Limbs dance to the brutal grace of an unheard song, arms swinging and feet moving in time with each other. Yoongi is immediately grateful for his choice in partner, because despite the arrogance of his taunting, Joel knows how to fight.

First blood goes to Joel as Yoongi takes his time learning the bounds of his opponent. It is, of course, impossible for Yoongi to go at full strength, so instead these practice matches become an exercise of restraint; the real challenge lies in finding the right balance of give and take to make it appear an even fight.

The next blow is Yoongi’s, and it throws Joel precariously off-balance. He recovers with admirable skill, but Yoongi is already moving in for his second strike.

The match ends sooner than Yoongi would’ve hoped, but they both leave the ring bloody and grinning. The man has talent, but for Yoongi, fighting is like breathing--the human never stood a chance.

____________________________________

Y/N tries to calm her heart as she walks into the building that houses Yoongi’s club. A part of her rages against the idea. Why should she have to work with him, it yells and she is inclined to agree with it. But, the part of her not driven by pride recognizes the truth of the situation: Y/N has no leads on her brother without Yoongi. Besides, she tries to reason with herself, there will always be time to turn him in once she finds her brother.

With that unsound logic to tide over her guilt and confusion, she clenches the strap of her shoulder bag tighter, and walks past the practice ring that connects the main entrance to the halls that lead to Yoongi’s office. Through the haze of her mental pep-talk she notes that the place is livelier than usual. From the snippets of conversation she picks out of the noise, it seems some major fight just ended. If the excited yelling was any indication--it had been a good one. She even passes a man surrounded by mobs of other fighters all talking over themselves trying to ask him questions. Y/N notes, with a rolling of her stomach, that blood drips down the man’s chest onto the floor. But, he is smiling through split and swollen lips while holding a compress to what could only have been a black eye. He seems to be recounting the fight with an energy that made Y/N shake her head, a small smile on her face. She doesn’t linger long, and a short walk later she finds herself standing in front of Yoongi’s assistant.

The middle-aged man behind the desk gives Y/N a complicated look when he notices her presence, which only worsens the awful anticipation that has sweat pooling on her lower back. He turns to the computer before him and his hands fly over the keys for a moment before he returns his attention to her.

“He’s in a mood,” is all he says as he moves to open the door, his tone a warning.

She nods her thanks and ducks through the doorway, praying to whoever might be listening that this meeting won’t be a disaster.

Yoongi tries to ignore the treacherous thrill of anticipation that shoots through him at the sight of the message on his computer alerting him that Y/N has arrived. He surely should not be so eager to see a woman who looked like she was ready to call the police on him the last time they were together.

It isn’t long before there is a knock at the door. It opens to reveal Daniel, who says nothing and instead gestures for Y/N to enter.

She walks in, her hand clenched around the strap of her large black bag, and Yoongi is reminded of the first time they met. Even then, before she spoke a word, he was struck by her presence. He has always been good at reading people, seeing them. Even for one of his kind. And Y/N...Y/N is an interesting case, her aura almost palpable. It is one unlike any Yoongi has ever seen. It hovers around her like a golden halo, and something about its beauty has unsettled him since that first meeting. Over time it only seemed to shine brighter, so bright that, these days, he can hardly stand to look for more than a few minutes. Diving deeper into his memories with her, he thinks back, not for the first time, to the night at the diner. That sudden, stabbing pain with no apparent source...a part of him still isn’t convinced it didn’t have something to do with that brightness. Even now, seeing it again after the time apart makes his head spin.

“Are you just going to stare at me the whole time? Or can we get started?” Y/N’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Right. Come, sit.” He gestures to the chair across from him.

She folds her arms across her chest. “I’d prefer to stand.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, grinding his teeth, then nods. He tries to remind himself that she has a right to be standoffish. “Alright.”

There is pause. The tension in it hangs heavy.

Yoongi clears his throat, “I’m--” a pause, “I’m assuming you want me to say something.”

Y/N raises a brow. “No, no you don’t need to say anything,Yoongi, because I'm not here for you.”

Yoongi returns her raised brow.

“In the end, I’m here for my brother. And regardless of how I feel about you, I still need your help,” the words come through gritted teeth.

“I see.” Yoongi takes the time to shift some of the paper on his desk, gather them into a neat pile, and align the edges against his desk. The sharp shick, shick of the papers is the only sound in the room. Setting the stack aside, he leans forward to brace his arms against the polished edge of the wooden surface. He makes every effort to make his attention on her appear undivided, but still a part of him watches with fascination as the very other glow around her grows even more noticeable with her building anger. Interesting.

“What exactly would you like to discuss, Y/N?”

____________________________________

Y/N grinds her teeth. Again. Maybe this is a mistake after all. They’ve been “discussing” (read: arguing) for nearly an hour and have gotten nowhere. Yoongi meets her every argument with a cool retort, and while she knows he has to be just as fed-up with the back and forth, he lets none of it show. As always, Yoongi is frustratingly put-together, and it makes her feel ridiculous for being anything less than frigidly composed. Even the crisp lines of his spotless suit seem to mock her.

“So, just to clarify,” she starts, trying her best to keep the bite out of her voice, “you’re still insisting that you don’t know my brother? After I’ve explained to you over and over who he is? What he did at your club?” Y/N takes an unconscious step closer to Yoongi’s desk, her voice sharpening. “I even spoke to one of your fighters, who I know you know, and he confirmed that you have personally spoken with and fought with my brother in the ring. Broke his arm even!” She stops when she realizes her voice is well above polite volume. She forces a steadying breath before continuing, “how is that possible, Yoongi?”

“To be fair, I’ve broken a lot of arms,” is his tight-lipped response. He closes his eyes and rubs at his right temple in the first show of emotion Y/N has seen yet. “I realize the facts of the situation, but you saying it over and over again isn’t making me remember anything more than what I’ve told you.”

“Bullshit, you’re telling me he was here for weeks and weeks and you didn’t notice him even once?”

Yoongi makes a sound that is curiously like a growl, “do you know how many fighters walk through these doors? I don’t keep personal tabs on all of them.” He continues to rub at his temple and,in a startling realization, she notes the slightest flaw in his otherwise flawless appearance. There, just above where he keeps rubbing, is the faintest trace of yellow-green at the edge of his temple, where skin meets hair. It gives the impression of a healing bruise, and even while most of her mind is consumed with other, much darker feelings, another, much smaller voice whispers its concern for the small hurt.

But even her unbidden sympathy can’t hide her fury, “you keep saying that, but I don’t believe you.” There’s more to this, there has to be. “There’s no way the head of the biggest fighting ring in the city didn’t keep tabs on a fighter who was spying on him for another group.” The act of disloyalty on her brother’s part was a hard pill to swallow, but this rollercoaster of a search has taught her to separate the facts from her reactions to them.

Yoongi stands from his desk in a furious blur of motion and begins pacing the length of the room. On the second turn, she catches a glimpse at the unfocused look in his eyes and it gives her pause, but still she decides to push. “I’ve told you his name, shown you his picture, his records. There has to be mor--”

She cuts off when Yoongi spins on her and pins her with a look that makes her blood run cold and then hot. A whisper in the back of her mind says maybe it is time to go, but then he speaks.

____________________________________

“Will you shut up about your brother for one goddamn second,” the words are spit at her with such force that he might as well be yelling. The unexpected acid of them leaves her feeling like the floor got pulled from under her feet. “Don’t you understand that this is so much bigger than one missing nobody? Your brother didn’t disappear because of me. He disappeared because he got involved with the wrong people and pissed them off,” his face twists with a dark kind of amusement, “and for once I had nothing to do with it so will you back off.”

Y/N is so startled at the sudden outburst that she is silent for a moment before her face distorts with anger. “You’re a disgusting human being, Yoongi. Don’t you dare--”

And maybe because Yoongi is bored, or maybe because he has a death wish, he interrupts her with a bitter laugh. “Oh, but that’s just it. I’m not a disgusting human being, because I’m not even human. Things like me don’t play by your simple ideals of fairness or morality, how many times must I demonstrate that for you?”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Y/N shakes her head, her eyes betraying her when they start to sting, “no, you know what, at least we agree on one thing. You can’t be human, because no human would be so awful.”

Yoongi latches on to that ever-so-slight waver in her voice and takes a tiny, oh-so-dangerous step closer. Y/N takes a careful step back, not trusting the sudden wild light that enters his eyes. “No, I don’t think you understand.” Another step forward. Another step back. “I’m not human, Y/N.”

Her eyebrows sink low and she gives a nervous laugh, “yeah right, and I’m the President. Stop fucking around, Yoongi.”

“Oh, but I’m being deadly serious.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and turns in an attempt to make her way to the exit. But, faster than her eyes can track, Yoongi grabs her roughly by the arm and spins her back around to face him.

“Just think about it Y/N,” he shakes her arm, “use that detective brain that you pride yourself so much on. You haven’t seen much, but you’ve seen enough.”

She yanks her arm out of his grip and takes a big step back, “Jesus, Yoongi, what the hell are you talking about--”

“Think!” He lets out another one of those frustrated, almost-growls, “the first time you met me, your skin crawled a bit, no? And not just because you were about to meet with a criminal, no it was something more than that. Something that just felt wrong?” Yoongi knew she would have felt it. Animals are more reactive, but humans have the same kind of primal response to his kind, whether they realize it or not.

Y/N freezes at his words, thinking back to the day she first met Yoongi. The waring feelings of disbelief that a quiet well-dressed man could be the leader of such a violent organization, and the intense sense of wrongness that had filled her with irrational dread that day. Before she can process a reply, Yoongi is speaking again.

“The day that we went to the abandoned house,” he starts, edging the tiniest bit closer until her arm brushes against the smooth cotton of his shirt; the heat of him seems to burn through the material onto her skin, “I thought you would be too panicked to notice, but nothing gets past you, Y/N. You saw me get stabbed that day, and you were right, the knife went all the way through. I should’ve died, but it was nothing more than a faint scar just a few hours later. And, you would have only seen it for a moment, but I’m certain you picked up on it: the dark shadows under my eyes that day, too intense to be simple exhaustion.”

Y/N wants to interrupt, to stop whatever this is and have Yoongi go back to normal, but he continues before she can say a word. His own words are like a flood, seeming to fall from his lips without conscious control.

“And haven’t you noticed how things have a funny way of working out when we’re together? Like that postal worker who gave us an address? You don’t actually think they bought that story with the rings, do you?” His smile is mocking and Y/N once again gets that crawling sensation of warning up the back of her neck. “Surely you’ve wondered why the police haven’t shut me down, even though my business is well-known and I make no attempt to hide what goes on here?

“It’s me, Y/N. Everything has happened like this because I made it that way. One of the perks of being what I am.

“I’m sure there are a hundred other tiny things that you could list,” he makes a small flicking motion with his free hand, “all tiny pieces of evidence that you ignored,” he takes another step closer without warning and suddenly his face is inches from hers. His eyes fill her vision and she shudders at the way the dark brown of them appears black, his expression distant, “because human brains have a funny way of twisting things that don't fit their precious reality.”

Y/N can hardly breathe, let alone think, but she has a creeping feeling that she has to keep him talking, so she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “What are you?”

Yoongi’s smile splits his face so wide that Y/N flinches at the sight. To her overwhelming relief he takes a small step away. When he releases her arm, her breathing returns in a ragged rush.

“A demon.”

She freezes for a moment, processing. Then, she burns with embarrassment at the declaration. God, she can’t believe he really got her with this nonsense. “A demon? Yoongi, I’m losing my shit here, don’t you dare fucking tease me right now.”

“It’s not a joke, Y/N,” his voice is soft, but not gentle. “I’m a demon.”

She laughs, because it’s the only thing she can do. “And, what, I’m just supposed to believe you? For all I know this is your sick idea of a prank, or maybe some drug-induced fantasy world you believe in. Where’s the proof?”

Yoongi freezes in a way that sends a chill down Y/N’s back. Too still, she thinks, no one should be able to stand so still.  “You want proof? I can show you my true form, but,” he meets her eyes and she wants to bend under the intensity of them, “I have to warn you that humans have been known to go mad from the sight.”

“Wow, you’re really committed to this,” she crosses her arms in a show of bravery that is only skin deep. “Okay, Yoongi, show me your ‘true form’ or whatever.”

It is the wrong thing to say.

When the words leave her lips, Yoongi's expression changes in a way that Y/N has no words for other than "inhuman" as ridiculous as that sounds. He takes a large step back, and the distance allows her to take her first deep breath in what feels like hours. That is, until she takes a closer look at Yoongi.

The first thing she notices are his eyes. The black of his pupils expand, eating up the color of his irises and even the whites, to the point where Y/N can no longer tell if she is looking at eyes or simply dark holes in his head. The veins that sit just below the surface of the skin under those eyes have turned a sickly black, creating an eerie web of bruised-looking skin that is a startling contrast to the sudden and extreme paleness of his face. The next things to catch her attention are his hands. They look almost charred, the skin turning an unearthly black so incredibly dark that they seem to eat away at the light in the room, with the darkest black occurring at the tips of his fingers and fading into an ashy gray before disappearing under the rolled sleeves of his white button-up shirt.

The air in the room grows heavy and hot to the point where it almost hurts to breathe. It seems to roil the way heat does off a hot summer road. The sensation only builds until it is another presence in the room, seeming to crawl up Y/N's arms and down her back, tingling like tiny electric shocks across her skin. She tries to take a step back, to get away from the nightmare emerging before her, but when her back hits the office wall, she realizes with a numb sort of horror that she has nowhere left to go.

At that moment, the thing that used to be Yoongi takes a step back, and Y/N swears she sees embers rise from the ground in a short burst of red and orange. The subtle smell of smoke joins the cloying heat of the air. The thing, she can't bring herself to call it Yoongi, spreads its arms wide, an uncomfortably wide and razor-sharp smile on its face. "What do you think?"

Y/N squeezes her eyes shut, but she knows that these images are already burned onto her brain. “W-what are you?” she stammers, barely finding her voice.

“A demon.” The creature echoes Yoongi’s earlier words, except the voice coming from where the Yoongi she knew had been standing was a distorted copy of his voice. Too deep, too rough, as if it hadn’t been used in a long, long time.

Y/N doesn't feel real. Surely she is having a nightmare and any minute now she'll wake up. When she gets to Yoongi's office she'll tell him that her subconscious paints him as a demon and they'll have a good laugh.

"Sorry, but you're not dreaming.” The thing doesn’t sound sorry at all.

"How did you-"

"My abilities are stronger in this form. I usually only pick up feelings and auras of people, but your mind is shouting so loud that I'm picking up actual thoughts as well." It makes this sound like an easy, natural thing.

Y/N's legs give out without warning and the impact of her knees on the wood of the floor is hard enough that her teeth knock together, but the pain barely registers--her mind too busy trying to comprehend the impossible.

The thing--Yoongi, she forces herself to use his name--crosses his arms, "So, you believe me now."  It isn't a question.

Y/N can barely nod, let alone speak, her vision starting to go fuzzy around the edges. Yoongi's voice sounds far away, and muffled like he is trying to talk through heavy glass. "How," Y/N's voice isn't hers, it feels detached from her body, "how is this possible?"

Yoongi starts to answer, but in the same moment that he takes a step forward, something deep inside Y/N snaps. In a move so fast she doesn’t even register it, she is on her feet and running for the door. Some part of her recognizes that Yoongi could keep her here if he wanted. She had quickly realized that the overwhelming weight and electric heat of the air was stemming from Yoongi, and it screamed of power in a way Y/N only knew on instinct. But, to her surprise, he allows her to run. She is out of the door and through the compound before she can pause to think.

She only stops when she reaches her car in the parking lot. She fumbles with the keys for nearly a full minute before she finally pops the lock and collapses inside. The click of it locking around her loosens one of the knots in her chest, and she allows herself a series shuddering breaths. She wants nothing more than to drive away at speeds that would do more than get her a ticket, but one glance at the uncontrollable shaking of her hands and she knows she won’t be taking the car anywhere.

Instead, she lets her head fall back against the headrest and takes deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm the thundering of her heart.

When she can think past the roaring in her ears, she grabs her bag from the car and exits, keys in hand. She may not be fit for driving, but she also can’t stay here so close to whatever the hell just happened. She’ll walk all the way home if she has to, send someone from work to pick up her car another day. She almost hopes Yoongi has it towed from the lot.

Her thoughts are still a whirlwind when she starts passing through the market district. Even though it’s just barely into the evening hours, most of the doors she passes have their artful signs flipped to “closed.” She passes one of her favorite shops and stares mournfully through the window. A pint of her favorite icy treat really would have hit the spot for this personal crisis. She closes her eyes against sudden flashes of memory, the black eyes and the acrid smell of smoke that still burns in her nose, clinging to her clothes, her hair.

She wants to forget it ever happened, pretend it was all an elaborate prank. But her fear runs too deep, too powerful for it to have been anything but terrible reality. She can’t decide what surprises her more: the fact that demons exist, or the fact that she had almost called one a friend.

Not that Yoongi had really done anything for her to consider them friends, but at the very least she had been starting to almost look forward to their afternoons together.

On the tail-ends of that thought, she starts re-analyzing her every interaction with Yoongi. What had been the signs? Shouldn’t she have known something was so terribly wrong about him?

And maybe it’s because she’s lost in thought, or maybe her body’s warning systems had been overloaded on Yoongi, but she doesn’t notice the screech of tires besides her. She doesn’t hear the mechanical sliding of a van door opening, doesn’t register the shouts of men beside her until it’s too late.

Rough hands clamp over her arms and then her feet are no longer on the ground. She hits the metal floor of the van a second later, her left shoulder crumpling painfully beneath the weight of her body. She is quick to scramble to her knees and is just about to release the scream that had been building in her throat, but before she can make a sound, a large, gloved hand clamps over her mouth with absolute force.

Still, she resists. She kicks and wriggles, bites and even swings her bag at one of the men, hitting him squarely in the jaw with enough force to knock his head to the side. It seems to only have the effect of pissing him off, however, because he draws a sleek black pistol from his back and, in a calculated blow to her temple, knocks her out cold.

The last thing she remembers is the black clouding over her vision. Then there is nothing but black.

____________________________________

Yoongi stares at the door Y/N had run through just moments before. He should stop her, but for whatever reason he lets her go. For an inexplicable reason, he has the feeling that she won’t speak to anyone about what she saw.

Turning from the door, he takes a deep breath, settling into skin that hasn’t seen use in too long. Demons can exist in their more human disguises indefinitely without ill effects, but there’s nothing quite like the feeling of letting the power that usually sits behind walls of controls come to the surface unrestrained.

He pauses mid-step when he spies the burn marks on the floor. Sighing, he makes a mental note to order a repair and draws his power back under careful shields until nothing of his other self remains.

Just then, there is a knocking on the door and, without waiting for a response, Daniel walks in with a handful of files and a judgemental look.

“I see Ms. Y/N left in a hurry today.” A pointed look at the burn marks in the floor as he hands over the files.

Yoongi takes them and grumbles, “not today, Daniel.” The man may have been in Yoongi’s service for decades--serving out a contract that had been initiated out of desperation, in the dark days of the human man’s youth--but he continues to walk a fine line between honesty and insolence.

Daniel simply raises his hands and says, “I’m just making a statement,” before leaving Yoongi alone with the files.

Picking up the first one off the stack, he is surprised to see that it’s from Hoseok. A handwritten note is scrawled across the front of the small envelope, it reads, ‘you owe me -H.’

Inside the envelope sits a USB drive, and Yoongi wastes no time plugging it into his computer. There is only one folder on the drive, titled ‘Nephilim,’ and it gives Yoongi pause. The word itself means ‘the fallen ones,’ but beyond that it feels familiar somehow. The almost-memory of it dangles on the edge of recall.

Within the folder there are two files. Yoongi opens the first and begins to read. It seems to be an excerpt from the journal of a lesser demon who considers themself one of the few historians among their kind. The passage is a record of lesser-known supernaturals and their histories. Yoongi isn’t quite halfway through when he realizes why the word seems so familiar. Nephilim, the fallen ones, is the name given to the offspring of humans and angels.

He had actually met one, in a chance meeting near the dawn of his existence. Young and inexperienced, he had only distinguished the nephilim from the surrounding humans when an older demon had pointed the woman out. She had been old and wisened, and had appeared incredibly weak to Yoongi, but even now he could remember the dizzying feeling that had nearly sent him stumbling when he walked by. The feeling of vertigo elicited by Y/N is much weaker in comparison, but the similarities are something to note. And while the woman hadn’t had that kind of golden glow that surrounds Y/N, Yoongi also hadn’t been as sensitive to auras at the time. Interesting parallels, but nothing conclusive.

He hadn’t been much older the first time he met a true angel. They had been a very old, but low-ranking messenger, and it was only then that he truly understood the power of his celestial counterparts. Angels are, in many ways, the opposite of demons--where demons wear darkness and shadows like armor, angels have weaponized their light. The angel that day had scowled when they came within reach of Yoongi, their beautiful face twisted in much the same way Yoongi’s had been. “You taste of soured petrichor and burning sulfur, demon,” the words had been spit with disdain as the scroll was handed over.

Yoongi hadn’t bothered with a retort at the time, but he still remembers the awful light that flowed from the angel’s skin, a blinding brightness that made it impossible to distinguish anything but blazing eyes of white-gold. Even more than that, Yoongi remembers the scream of static in his ears when the angel spoke, their voice ringing with a high pitched hum that grated like shattered glass on his senses.

His reactions became less intense over time, as he grew older and more powerful, but still he made sure that his meetings with angels were few and far between.

Pulling himself from the memories, he pulls up the second file--a retelling of a folk story from almost five hundred years ago. The story tells of ‘golden children’ and of family lines who were thought to have been blessed by angels. For generations after the appearance of a golden child, members of such families were said to have powers that weakened evil and protected entire towns. Most of the tale could be chalked up to human inventiveness, but there were striking similarities between the descriptions of the golden children of the legend and the nephilim in the demon histories.

Yoongi recognizes the message Hoseok is implying by sending this particular information, but he has a difficult time accepting it. There are similarities between his experiences with Y/N and these tales of human-angel offspring, but there are also enough differences that he doesn’t make the connecting leap just yet.

Moving on to the next file in the stack, he finds it is a personnel record for Y/N’s brother. Yoongi almost skips over it, after all there couldn’t be anything in these records that Y/N herself hadn’t shared, but he pauses when he sees the attached picture.

It becomes immediately obvious that the picture Y/N had shown of her brother was outdated. The man in this photo looks to be several years older, the hair is shorter and an entirely different color, and the man in this photo sports facial hair that hadn’t existed in Y/N’s picture. Yoongi wants to hit himself when he makes the connection between the two faces. Of course this was Y/N’s brother. He hadn’t realized it when looking at the picture she had provided, but he should have known, their faces were too similar for anyone to think them anything but siblings.

More importantly, Yoongi recognizes this face. Remembers clearly keeping an eye on the young and brutal fighter, not only because Yoongi suspected him of being in contact with a rival group, but also because he had almost beaten Yoongi in a fight.

It had been a routine sparring match in the practice ring. Yoongi had been itching for a fight, and the young man had been happy to oblige. Things started off as usual and Yoongi had expected a clean win. But then, when the other fighter had connected his fist to Yoongi’s jaw in his first successful hit of the match, Yoongi remembers being startled by the rolling sense of vertigo that had disoriented him enough for the human to get in several key strikes. Yoongi had recovered quickly, ending the match in a vicious move that had broken the man’s arm, but it was the closest anyone had ever come to beating him in his entire time with this club.

It was a feeling, Yoongi thought in a moment of startling realization, that was identical to the one caused by Y/N.

His eyes drifted to where the historical records were still open on his computer and wondered at the significance of this familial connection. It’s not enough to entirely convince him, but something tells him this detail is important. He puts both the file and the envelope aside for now.

After dealing with a few club-related emails, he returns to the final file at the bottom of the stack Daniel had brought to him. A thin manila envelope with no identifying markings. He reaches inside and pulls out two things that set his blood to a boil.

The first, is a note. Scrawled in a messy hand, its message is short and to the point. ‘We have the girl.’ Below that ominous statement is an address on the other side of the city and a time for the following afternoon.

The second, is a photograph. Yoongi immediately identifies the woman in the picture. Y/N. Bloodied. Tied to a chair. Her head lolled forward in a way that speaks of unconsciousness.

Yoongi’s anger is a cold thing in his bones, but it burns hot on the surface, setting the photo in his hands ablaze until all that remains of it is a pile of ash.

He is moving a second later, exchanging his suit jacket for a rugged leather one that is less likely to show the signs of a fight. He is out of the building before he can register the decision to do so.

His only coherent thought is that the people who took Y/N better hope she is alive when he finds them, because it’s the only thing that might ensure them a quick death.

____________________________________

Y/N wakes suddenly, and she immediately regrets it when she registers the pounding in her head.

It takes her several too-long moments to remember the events of the day, but when she does, they return to her in a rush. The call with Yoongi, the nightmare of his reveal, the terror of being thrown into the floor of a van.

She attempts to blink through the pain radiating from her temple throughout her skull, but nothing she can do will clear the ache that’s so sharp it blurs her vision. She notes, with a numb sort of calm that she is alone in a dark, unfurnished room. She sits in a chair, her hands bound behind her with a tight looping of rope that bites uncomfortably into her skin. She knows even before she starts to pull, that her attempts at freeing herself will be useless. She makes the attempts anyway.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, her head making it impossible to think coherently, but it feels like hours have gone by when the only door in the barren room opens. She is blinded for a moment by the light that leaks in from the hallway, and the disorientation is enough that she doesn’t immediately register that someone has entered the room.

“Good, you’re awake,” a gruff male voice breaks the silence. She struggles to focus on the speaker’s face, but it proves to be pointless as his features are hidden behind a black mask that leaves only his eyes visible. “We have some questions for you about our mutual friend.” The masked man takes up a position on the wall opposite of Y/N, folding muscled arms over a wide chest in a black long-sleeved shirt.

Y/N stays silent.

“The shy type, huh? That’s fine,” he reaches into one of the pockets of his black cargo pants and pulls out a pocket knife, “we have ways to encourage talking.” The silver blade of it flashes in the air in a motion so practiced that Y/N feels sweat start to build on her neck.

“What--” Y/N’s voice comes out hoarse, her throat too dry. She tries again after swallowing, “what do you want from me?”

“Smart girl,” her stomach rolls at the appraising look he gives her, “we just want to ask a few questions.” He pushes off of the wall and comes to crouch before her, pulling down the mask from his face to reveal a startlingly handsome face full of clean lines and full lips. He plays the tip of the knife over the knee of her jeans, and it takes every ounce of willpower she has to remain still and silent. “Let’s start easy. Why has that bastard been looking for us.”

In this position, Y/N is almost eye-level with him and she pours every bit of her fury into her gaze. She wants to spit on him in answer, but the blade on her leg suggests that that may not be the smartest course of action. She decides instead for compliance--for now. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you and your people have been plotting his murder.”

The man’s eyes widen a fraction, then he grins--and it’s a dark, slimy thing. “Oh, you’ve got a mouth, huh?” He holds her eyes for a tense moment before breaking the contact to rise to his feet. Back to her, he continues, “And how, exactly, did Mr. Min learn about this plot?” He turns to face her, the smile still on his face, “could it be that, like brother like sister, we have a leak on our hands?”

At the mention of her brother, a guttural sound leaves her throat before she can stop it.

“Oh, sorry,” he says with mocking sincerity, “that’s a bit of a sore subject I see.”

“What the hell do you know about my brother?” Y/N snarls, the force of her anger overwhelming the throbbing pain of her head.

“I know he was a two-timing nobody who got in over his head.” He begins to walk the length of the room, his pace unhurried and even, “I know that he was a loose end. Just like you are now,” he doesn’t miss a step when he turns to shoot her a knowing smile. “I also know that my employer doesn’t allow loose ends,” he steps forward suddenly and captures Y/N’s jaw in a loose hold, “even pretty ones.” The warmth of his fingers is like a brand on her skin and Y/N struggles against his grip, only succeeding in sending a shooting pain down her neck when it twists at an awkward angle.

“Tell me,” he says, his eyes filled with an odd kind of light when he yanks her face back to his; their breaths mingle in the bare few inches between them and Y/N fights the urge to hold her breath in protest to the uninvited intimacy of the action, “would you like to meet your end in the same fashion as your brother, or shall we think up something unique for our new guest?”

Y/N’s body reacts before her mind, her eyes starting to burn before she has even processed the words, but the tears don’t fall. No. It couldn’t be.

“You’re lying,” her voice, whisper soft, is fierce in its conviction.

“Afraid not.” The man, who seems endlessly cheered by her suffering, smiles again, but this time his eyes fill with a darkness that makes her body shudder as if overcome with a sudden chill. She can feel her mind spiraling, barely focusing as he continues to speak. A large part of her absolutely refuses to believe his words. Her brother can’t be gone. She would have felt something, right? Her world couldn’t just lose one of its core foundations without crumbling, could it?

“You see, your brother was just a little too smart for his own good. Even knowing about the plan to get rid of Yoongi probably wouldn’t have been enough of an excuse to get rid of him. We knew we were at no risk of anyone finding evidence to back his claims.” A small silence where his face fell into a mockery of sadness, “no, your brother was killed because he didn’t stop there. He kept digging and found a secret that is better left buried. And for that, he had to die.”

Y/N feels beyond numb by the time he stops talking, the words falling around her without reaching her. Just like in Yoongi’s office, she has the feeling of being outside of herself, watching all of these horrible truths drop onto the slumped shoulders of a woman broken.

“Oh don’t look so down, doll.” She observes with curious detachment as her head is lifted by a finger under her chin. “If it makes you feel better--”

In that moment he is interrupted by the muted sounds of something being broken and someone shouting. Just as his head whips around to face the sound, the door bursts open and a wild-eyed woman sticks her head in only long enough to gasp out, “we have a situation,” before disappearing back into the light beyond.

The man in front of Y/N releases a frustrated yell, the unexpected loudness of it makes Y/N flinch, then sag in minor relief when he releases her chin. Only for that relief to bleed out of her moments later when, after a brief conversation with the woman in the hall, the man returns and draws his gun.

“Looks like our time’s been cut short.” He walks forward, the weight of his boots making the thud of every step fill the room. Each footfall closer has Y/N’s heart trying to claw out of her chest. “I’m looking forward to continuing this later, but, first, you don’t need to see this.”

Then, in a movement so fast that Y/N doesn’t even have time to flinch, he brings the butt of the gun down on her temple and, for the second time that day, her world flickers to black.

____________________________________

*A/N* Sweet jesus it's up. Guys, I'm never joking about taking another year to update again, because apparently I cursed myself. I hope this makes sense, I'm constantly trying to walk that line between "don't let it quite make sense yet so it all comes together later" and "this straight up doesn't make sense," so please, if it's too confusing don't be afraid to ask, I'll answer what I can or let you know that an explanation will be coming later!

Thank you so much to everyone who has been patient with this series, because I know it's taking forever and it's hard to wait. Your comments are what give me that extra kick in the butt when inspiration is there but I can't write, so thank you for the lovely words TT

Not to curse myself again, but I'm planning to finish this up before fall hits.

As of the most recent draft, there will be four main parts in total + an epilogue + an author's reflection where I plan to share some behind the scenes and deleted scenes! This chapter is actually cut into two pieces, because it was significantly longer than other chapters as one piece, so be on the lookout for that in a few days! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!

Thank you!!!

[c-e-gold]

In light of recent events involving Damian in a certain DC Comic book, I have decided to revisit my proposed line up for a Teen Titans book that I would love to read. It’s going to be similar to the one I did before, but I’m going to try to go more in depth about it. If there’s any changes or additions you would make, please let me know. My knowledge on DC is limited. Especially now since I havent read them in awhile due to how annoyed they’ve made me lately. 

Enjoy!

Core Team

Damian Wayne / Robin

Maya Ducard / Nobody

Suren Daga (He’s been staying at Carrie Kelly’s place since he’s had nowhere else to go)

Jon Kent / Super Boy

Kathy Branden / Beacon

This is the core team at the start of their tenure together. There really isn’t any designated leader among them. Instead, they opt for a rotating system where a leader is chosen for specific missions. For example, Maya be more suitable to lead a stealth mission than Superboy. 

I know he would get brought up, by Colin isn’t included because I know nothing about him and haven’t read any of the stories he’s been in. I recognized that he’s popular among some of the fans, but I wanted this list to be as true to me as possible.

Team Mother

Talia Al Ghul

In this iteration, everything about her that was written by Grant Morrison is wholly ignored. Never happened. Talia, while not as involved in Damian’s life as she would like to be due to her work, maintains a healthy relationship with her son. She takes on the responsibility of training the team in combat, language, espionage, tactics, and assassination. She also does the mission briefings for them. 

For those who are familiar with the Young Justice cartoon, she’s pretty much Batman. the events of R:SoB still happens, so her relationship with Maya and Suren are still rocky at best. Maya goes out of her way to annoy her and Suren just doesn’t like her. But the course of the story will have moments where, while not being a fan of eachother, Talia would definitely go out of her way to protect Suren and Maya and they would do the same for her. Perhaps their relationship develops from antagonistic to just playful ribbing.

Den Brother

Duke Thomas

Duke takes on Talia’s responsibilities while she’s not around due to her job and/or missions. His tasks normally include being the team’s “therapist”. Talia recruited him for this because she correctly figured that the team would be more likely to warm up to him since he’s closer to them in age. It also helps that he’s a bit better when it comes to understanding emotional children. While not being licensed, he listens to their problems and help work them threw it. On occasion he will tag along on missions with them.

Future additions to the team

Mia “Maps” Mizoguchi and Olive Silverlock

(Anyone else remember in Robin War where Damian left supplies for the Gotham Academy kids and nothing came of it? I do.)

Maps- who is by far the most excited about the prospect of joining the team- she begins early training at the insistence of Damian, much to Talia’s chagrin. Talia tries to discourage her threw tough conditioning, but Maps perservere, showing her heart and that her desire to help people isn’t just surface level. Eventually she does join the team part-time.

Olive partakes in the practice concerning the usage of metahuman abilities in order to master her pyrokinesis. Duke and Kathy helps her navigate her training and slowly teaches her to be able to call upon her abilities without losing herself to the flames. I’m on the fence about having Olive join the team, so I’m open to suggestions on that front. I’m leaning more towards no, though.

Detective Chimp

Why not? He’s not really doing anything in the comics that is worthwhile. And I think his presence would add an air of brevity. He would be in charge of teaching the team proper investigative tactics. He even has a few tips and tricks up his sleeve that even the most seasoned detective wouldn’t be privy to.

Also I want to see him and Maps interact. Not to mention the potential for a fun side adventure with Detective Chimp and all of the pets teaming up.

Temp Join/Team-Ups

Batfamily

Not having the rest of the Batfamily interact with this team would be a crime in of itself. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan, Batgirl, Spoiler, Blue Bird, Batwoman, Batwing, and Alfred. I want to see all of them interact with the team. It doesn’t even have to be serious! Maybe Stephanie shows up with Cass and kicks all of the boys out and has a girls night with the female team. Or Jason regales the team with totally not made up stories about all of the times he saved Damian and all the favors that he owes him. 

Harley Quinn

I don’t know exactly the circumstances that would make this work, but I think this would be a cool and fun crossover. They would just kinda run into each other and decide, for the sake of the mission, to work together to get the job done. 

Justice League

I mean, they HAVE to have their “Now do you take us seriously” moment. It doesn’t have to be a situation where the League is brainwashed or anything. Maybe it’s just a test. Or a friendly competiton. Or an excuse to get Wonder Woman and Maya to interact and have a proper passing of the touch and make the Tiny Trinity a for sure thing.

Robzarro and Boyzarro

They obviously like hanging out with Jon, Kathy, and Maya. So them popping up every now and then should be a given. Also I kinda wanna see how Damian and Talia reacts to Robzarro. There is so much comedy potential there.

Base of operation

The Fortress of Attitude

The base has an official named that Talia had given it upon construction, but Superboy called it the Fortress of Attitude. The some of the team just started calling it that out of being easier to remember while others (read: Maya) does it because she wants to annoy Talia. It’s very sleek with cutting edge tech rivaling Batman’s own tech. But as the team gets more and more accommodated to the hideout, they start adding their own flairs (stickers, posters, beanbag chairs, animal dens, dolls, figurines, and magazines). 

It’s equipped with a central computer that monitors the coming and going of the members, the registry, and mission files. The AI is programmed into the teams phones, offering the same protection to their personal phones that the foretress has. Using technology similar to the Watchtower and threw studying Beacon’s powers, they can beam themselves to the fortress whenever they please.

Main villains

Slade and the Hive Academy

I put Slade and not Deathstroke because I’m not really a fan of comic book Deathstroke. But Slade is Bad. Ass. Methodical. Calculating. Brilliant. Powerful. Coniving. He would make a perfect overarching villain for this team. I wouldn’t have him want Robin as his apprentice though. That can stay exclusive to the Teen Titans cartoon. In that place, he would just be the headmaster of the Hive Academy and use the team to test his students.

The Court of Owls

While theyre largely Batman’s villains, I feel they would meddle in the affairs of anyone they deem a significant annoyance. Their Talons would prove such a huge obstacle for this team to overcome. Of course it wouldn’t be the entire court after them, though. Just a small team that is assigned to keep an eye on them and steer them in the direction that best serves the Court.

 Blockbuster

I think 2 syndicates is enough for one title. Blockbuster is a departure from the cold, calculated, machinations of both Slade and the Court. He’s pretty much an immovable object that would be built up to be able to even withstand hits from Superboy.

Manchester Black

I think being trapped inside of a cow would make anyone thirsty for revenge. Also, a cow that is hell bent on revenge could be both terrifying and fun to read. No one is going to punch a cow, so the team would have to think of other tactics to take him down. Maybe Detective Chimp and the pets would have a hand in bringing him down!

I literally typed this out while working off of 3 hours of sleep the previous night and it is currently 12:37AM. That’s the excuse I’m going to go with if something is wrong here. I would want to include more villains that challenge the team both philosophically, physically, and mentally. But the longer I work on this, the more I go blank. So I’m putting a pin in this here.

If anyone has any ideas or suggestions, feel free to leave them! This is my own personal take on what I would like to see from a hypothetical Teen Titans/Young Justice book. 

[orionsangel86]

Vicious Circles - Part 3

Where things come to ahead in this alternate 15x09 fic.

(Also on AO3)

 “Do you know what I love most about humans? You’re all so damn hopeful. So desperately clinging on to this idea that you’ll get a happy ending. It pleases me. Of course, you are all deluding yourselves. I didn’t create this world, or any of the others, to be happy. Life, as I’ve created it, is tough. It’s tragic. All men must die in the end. And the best stories? The ones that really stay with you? They are full of suffering, and of men going to extreme lengths to defeat death, only to end in a poetic tragedy anyway. Because that’s life after all.

 Don’t you agree, Sam?”

 Sam had been tied to this chair for hours. His head was still fuzzy from Chuck’s mind games, but he had managed to get a good idea of his surroundings. It looked like a casino? But the scent of blood was thick in the air, and aside from Chuck’s voice, the room was filled with silence. No bells or chimes from the slot machines, no clattering of dice on the table, no shuffling of cards. Whatever happened here, it wasn’t good. Eileen still sat opposite to him, also tied with her hands behind her back. Her expression was full of concern and fear.

 Chuck was staring at Sam, impatiently waiting for an answer. Sam blinked.

 “What? I don’t care Chuck. If you want your story to continue so badly, then let us go so we can keep playing it out.”

 Chuck rolled his eyes.

 “Ah, but then you’d just keep trying to find a way to stop me. Which you won’t be able to do, because I’m God.” He smirked, and Sam glared at him defiantly.

 “If that was true, then we wouldn’t be here, tied up, having to listen to your bullshit right now.”

 Chuck’s grin dropped, and he leaned in close to Sam, their noses practically touching.

 “You ought to show me some respect. I own you, Sam. Don’t underestimate me. Or my power.”

 He stood up straight and picked up a pink-coloured drink, swirling it around before taking a sip.

 “The reason you and your little friend are here Sam is because I was hoping to talk some sense into you. To encourage you to get back on script. Seeing as you didn’t take my advice before, it seemed more forceful measures were necessary.”

 Chuck glanced at Eileen, who had been sitting quietly, watching him and reading his lips.

 “For instance, I know that you’ve taken quite a liking to this pretty lady.” He reached out and stroked Eileen’s cheek making her recoil in disgust. “Bringing her back, that was off-script.”

 Chuck sighed dramatically and took another sip of his drink.

 “You know, when I first wrote magic into the story, when I decided that it might be cool to have some loopholes, some cheat codes to my world… it was always supposed to be limited to a select few witches, and always in a way that would ultimately doom them. Like magical karma. You wanna play around with my universe, you better be prepared to pay the price.

 Some, like Rowena…well, I turned a blind eye for a long time.” Chuck shook his head, and Sam felt a chill run through him. He glanced at Eileen who was shifting in her chair, clearly trying to break free of her bonds.

 “My biggest issue was when magic started to interfere with my starring characters. Those loopholes… they weren’t for yours or Dean’s use. Especially not when it allowed you to take the story in the wrong direction.”

 Chuck was distracted with his monologue, and Sam’s eyes darted between him and Eileen, who was signalling him to keep Chuck’s attention on him. To keep him talking.

 “But surely a story with magic, and getting us to believe we can manipulate or beat the system, is more interesting? Has more depth?” Sam asked.

 Chuck nodded thoughtfully.

 “Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

 Eileen had managed to get her hands free and shook herself out of the rope bonds. Chuck wasn’t looking, instead, he was smirking at Sam.

 “But only to a point. Bringing back people for your own selfish benefit, who have no place in my story, though…”

 Eileen had managed to jump up and pull out a concealed knife. She made a run at Chuck and--

 Chuck held out an arm, freezing Eileen on the spot.

 “…that’s something that I plan to correct.” He stared at Eileen with cold, angry eyes and a sinister smile on his lips. He had known what she was planning all along. Sam yelled her name and struggled with his bonds.

 “Chuck, please! Let her go! This is nothing to do with her. Just let her leave, and you can do whatever you like with me.”

 Chuck sighed. “You’re just not getting it, are you Sam? Didn’t you pay attention to the vision? To the other versions of you that I know you saw… My various drafts, all the different ways it could have ended for you and Dean?”

 “What has any of that got to do with Eileen?! She’s not a part of this!” Sam pleaded.

 “That’s right. Exactly! She’s not a part of this. She doesn’t belong in this story.”

 Sam looked desperately between Chuck and Eileen. “No. Chuck, even if your story is about Dean and me, and us killing each other… there still has to be other people, other characters! It can’t just be me and Dean all the time! Why can’t she just be a--a side character in the story? Doesn’t it raise the stakes to have us care about other people, outside of each other?”

 “Oh Sam. That may be true, but you didn’t want Eileen to just be a side character in your story. Did you?”

 Sam glared at Chuck, but his shoulders dropped as he looked back at Eileen. She was still frozen in place, watching him helplessly. He slumped back in his chair, defeated.

 “No,” he said sadly, still looking at Eileen. “I love her.”

 Eileen’s surprise was evident, but she flashed a small smile. “I love you too, Sam.” She replied.

 Chuck frowned. “You see, this is just not working. The only love story in Supernatural is the one between the brothers! There’s no romance in Supernatural!”

 “Between the brothers?” Sam pulled his eyes away from Eileen to scrunch up his nose and stare at Chuck in horror.

 “Well, not like THAT… eww. Though I have glanced at some pretty freaky fanfiction in the past…” Chuck stared into the middle distance for a moment as if remembering something terrible and horrifying. Then he shook himself off and grinned at Sam. “No, I mean, you and Dean are my leading men, the love you share is what drives and powers this whole story. The drama of one brother, having to kill the other, and then kill himself… the co-dependency… the TRAGEDY. It’s the perfect story!”

 Sam shook his head.

 “You’re wrong. There are plenty of brilliant stories out there. Stories that end happy.”

 “That’s not how this is going to work, Sam. I get MY story. And here’s why…”

 Chuck snapped his fingers, and Sam watched in horror as Eileen instantly turned to dust and disappeared.

 “NOOOO!” Sam screamed. Chuck smirked at him. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” He cried.

 “Don’t worry, Sam. She’s not dead. She’s just… gone away.” Chuck waved his hand as if this explained Eileen’s whereabouts at all. Distraught and horrified, Sam stared icily at Chuck.

 “Bring. Her. Back.” He growled through gritted teeth.

 “Oh, I will, Sam. Don’t worry. If you comply, Eileen will get to live a perfectly normal happy little life. Just, not with you.” Chuck sipped his drink smugly, and Sam felt his hatred for the man fill his veins.

 “How do I know you’ll keep your promise?” He asked.

 “Because, when the story plays out, right before my grand finale, I’ll come to you, and to guarantee your compliance AND the compliance of your brother, I’ll bring her back. I’ll erase her memory of you, and I’ll set her on her way. She will get a fully human life based entirely on her own choices. I won’t meddle in her story at all.”

 Sam felt the tears fall down his cheeks, and he blinked through them.

 “She’ll get to be happy? You promise me that she’ll be happy. Promise me. Make sure that she lives, and she is happy.” Sam sobbed.

 Chuck grinned coldly.

 “Promise.”

 …

 Dean sat in the library, staring into the darkness. His fifth glass of whiskey was finally starting to numb the pain in his chest. His eyes were red and sore from his earlier tears, but now he sat silently. He had no tears left to cry. He didn’t know where Sam was, his brother wasn’t answering his phone, and Dean knew he had to investigate that in case something was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Everything was damn hopeless now anyway.

 The metal creaking of the bunker’s front door pulled Dean out of his trance. He turned to see Sam slowly stumble down the stairs. He could tell from his brother’s posture that something was wrong.

 Swaying as he stood up, he staggered to the war room to greet Sam.

 “Sammy?” He called out to no response. When Sam finally looked up at him, he saw that his eyes were just as red as his own. His brother’s face filled with an eerily familiar look of grief and defeat.

 “What happened?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

 “I could say the same to you,” Sam said.

 Dean found a chair and slumped into it. He clenched his jaw and fought to say the words out loud.

 “We lost, Sammy.”

 Sam sat in the opposite chair and considered Dean’s demeanour. “So did we,” He replied, voice breaking.

 “Sam? Where’s Eileen?”

 Sam looked up, and his eyes filled with tears. “She’s gone, Dean. Chuck-“

 “Chuck?!” Dean stood up in a panic. “What happened, Sam? Are you hurt?”

 “No. But we… we gotta stop trying to beat him, Dean.”

 Dean furrowed his brow.

 “Chuck took Eileen. He’s using her as leverage. If we stop fighting him and ‘play our roles’, then she gets to live.”

 Dean shook his head.

 “No, Sam. We can find a way to save her. If he’s still got her, then we can get her back… Hell, we have to try. I want at least one of us to have a chance at happiness!”

 Sam stood up and reached out to grip his brother’s shoulder.

 “Dean, he’s not holding her prisoner. He made her disappear, like… dust. She’s gone.”

 Dean regarded Sam’s tired face, his brother looked broken, like the fight had left him. He looked exactly like how Dean felt.

 “Well then, we play our roles, and when Chuck brings her back, then the two of you can be together again?” Dean asked.

 Sam shook his head sadly.

 “This only ends one way for us, Dean. Neither of us gets a happy ending.”

 Dean’s eyes widened, and he stepped back, sitting back down in the chair and closing his eyes. “So that’s it? We’ve lost?”

 Sam mirrored Dean’s movements and nodded, his eyes still teary and red.

 “Where’s Cas?” Sam asked. “We should let him know.”

 Dean’s face dropped, and he swigged back the last of his whiskey.

 “I guess we both lost something special today Sammy.”

 Sam froze, and he stared at Dean, not wanting to know the truth but knowing he had to ask anyway.

 “Dean… what happened to Cas?”

 Dean gripped the empty glass in his hand, refusing to look at his brother.

 “He’s… dead.”

 Sam drew in a breath and sat back.

 “How?” Sam asked in horror. “Are you sure? He can’t be! It’s Cas!”

 Dean shook his head.

 “It was my fault. I should’da done more to get him out of there. Damn fool sacrificed himself so I could get back.”

 “Get back from where Dean? What happened today?”

 Dean wiped his eyes and scrubbed his hand over his face.

 “Michael. He told us about a spell to trap Chuck. It needed this flower from purgatory, this leviathan blossom, so Michael created a door, and we went and got it.” He stood up while telling the story, needing to move as he felt the anger boil up inside him. “Cas was stubborn, we were both angry, we fought. Benny was there… we got caught out by leviathans, they had us surrounded. Cas managed to hold them off, but…” Dean stopped and looked back at Sam, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “There were too many. Cas used himself as bait.”

 “What if he’s still there, Dean? If he managed to fight them off-“

 “He didn’t.”

 “How do you know?”

 “Because I saw them rip him to shreds!” Dean yelled.

 Sam froze and watched as Dean visibly shook with anger and emotion.

 “I saw everything, Sammy. I saw those sons of bitches eat him alive. My best friend… and the person I--“ Dean broke off and clenched his jaw. Unable to say the words again.

 Sam felt helpless. Still dealing with his own grief, he didn’t know what to say to make any of this better.

 “and now… Chuck… and Eileen. We can’t even do the damn spell because you went and made a deal. So Cas died for nothing. He died for NOTHING!” Dean shouted and, in his anger and frustration, threw his empty glass across the room, watching it shatter as it hit the wall. Sam jumped at the sound but remained silent.

 Dean breathed deeply, trying to control his anger.

 “I’m sorry, Sam.”

 Sam shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry too.”

 “I need to be alone,” Dean said. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and headed to his room. Leaving his broken-hearted brother alone in the darkness of the war room. Sam blinked away another tear and watched him leave.

 …

 After everything that happened, Dean needed to clear his head. At least Sam was safe, even if he was in just as dark a place as Dean was now. They both had lost any shred of hope of winning, and Dean wanted nothing more than to drink himself to death. Screw Chuck’s story, screw saving the world, screw everyone else. He was done with it all. Feeling the weight of the day finally defeat him, he collapsed face-first on his bed. He breathed in deeply and tried to push down all of the painful memories that continued to haunt him.

Cas always comes back, Dean thought. He’ll be in the Empty now, and he’ll find a way back just like before… He just needs something to fight for. Dean sat up straight as soon as the thought came to him.

     I need to give him something to fight for.  

 So Dean wiped his eyes of the tears that had stubbornly kept flowing. He clasped his hands together, and he prayed.

 “Cas…” Dean whispered into the dark silence of his room. “Castiel.” Another tear fell down his cheek as the pain welled up inside him again.

 “I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… I’m so sorry, Cas. This was never meant to happen. It all went too far, got too much. And I couldn’t-- “

 Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. He needed to get this right. No excuses.

 “We’ve been through so much together. You are so important to me, I know you don’t believe it right now, and I know I haven’t shown it, but you are.

 “You were never… dead to me, Cas.” He struggled to repeat the words, hating himself for ever saying them in the first place. “I’m sorry I ever said that. And I don’t blame you for m--  for mom. I’ve been so angry. At you, at everything, at our whole, messed up shit show of a life. Where anytime I even attempt to hold on to something good, I lose it.

 “I’m scared, Cas. Because I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. You said we were real, But how do I know that for sure? Even before all that, before Chuck, before Mom… I was angry back then, at Jack, and at you for always putting Jack first. Hell, I think I was jealous of the kid…”

 Dean huffed a laugh and paused, thinking back to one of the darkest times of his life.

 “You died before, and it broke me. I don’t think I ever told you that. Your death… it snuffed out a light.

 “Then you came back, and I was so happy. I figured… I actually allowed myself some hope that you and I could – well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? But you were distant, and I was too damn scared to bring it up. Too scared I’d lose you again, that you’d get fed up with me, take Jack and leave.

 “That fear, the fear of losing you… it eats at me. And it makes me lash out, push you away like I’m trying to protect myself from feeling that way again… like I can shut off my feelings for you, so it won’t hurt when you inevitably leave me for good. And I get so angry that I scare myself. It’s a vicious circle. I can’t stop it. No matter how bad I want to, I can’t stop it.”

 Tears were falling down his face, and Dean took in a staggered breath to try to compose himself. He had to voice the one thing that scared him more than anything else, not knowing if Cas could hear him or not.

 “I love you. I love you so damn much. And I should’da told you so many times while I still had the chance.”

 Dean felt the weight of the words finally leave him, and blinked away the tears.

 “You can’t be gone Cas. You gotta come back. We’ve both gotta keep fighting, because I can’t do this without you. I can’t do any of this without you. You gotta come back to me. Please come back to me.”

 Dean bowed his head and let the tears fall freely. He didn’t know where to go from here.

 …

 Far away in a dark empty void, tear-filled blue eyes stare widely into nothingness, having just heard the prayer that set his heart soaring.

 “Well now,” A husky female voice drifted through the void, cutting into the silence. “Now that’s all cleared up, perhaps you’ll re-join the fight.”

 Castiel turned to look at Billie. Standing next to her were two people. On her left, a woman Castiel had only just started to get to know. Eileen. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears but she had a hopeful smile on her face. On Billie’s right stood someone he loved with all his heart. His son. Jack held up his hand and waved.

 “Hello Castiel.”

 Cas smiled.

 END.

[ruffiorocks]

unpopular opinion (long post)

This might be unpopular but its irking me a little bit, im actually completely OK with Lena punching Kara in the face. 

Its not so much that Kara kept her identity a secret, that on its own doesn't warrant a smack or a punch (if they had been dating then it absolutely would) because that’s beyond disturbing behaviors, 

No for me its, as i’ve mentioned before the way that Kara treated her as Supergirl, especially in season 3. 

Now yes Kara has been lovely to Lena as Supergirl, the same as Lena has to her. they have actively saved each others arses on more than on occasion. 

BUT season 3 and 4 gave us a look at what Kara can be like when she feels her authority is being questioned. Kara was instantly p**sed at Lena for daring to keep Reign a secret, no regard for WHY just accusations. Honestly why Kara was there while they interrogated Lena is beyond me, she doesn't actually have a DEO rank? But whatever. She instantly got p**sed that Lena had some leftover kryptonite (we know she made it) and immediately took it as threat, even though Lena IS her best friend. What irked me the most about season 3 was that Kara didn't really give a lot of thought to Sam, in her beef with Lena it was always Kara, Kara, Kara. The fact that Lena did all of this FOR SAM to protect her went completely over Kara’s head. 

Kara also got p**sed that Lena dared to have tech that she didnt know of or approve of. Lena literally told Kara that the force field on Reign’s cell prevented Kryptonian’s looking through it, so what was the first thing Kara does? Why she tries to look through it and gets p*ssed that it caused a bit of pain. She instantly rounded on Lena and saw something SHE personally could nosy through as a threat. I mean Lena could literally just have used this so she wouldn't be spied on in the shower by passing Kryptonian’s. Just because Kara does have X Ray vision doesn't mean shes entitled to be able to see everythong (*cough* Batgirl *cough*) This scene was basically like telling someone not to put their hand in the fire because it will burn, only for them to instantly do it and then get upset with you for built the fire in the first place. 

I was beyond happy that Lena brought Kara down a peg or two, ive said it before but Kara is rarely seriously questioned by anyone and it seems to have gone to her head. Kara’s authority is mostly what shes bestowed on herself, much like Superman. 

But anyway, Kara seems to have realized she’s been a colossal ass and jumped to conclusions, because she has a really awkward exchange with Lena and says she hopes it wont ruin their friendship. See my issue here is that Kara thinks she can attack Lena but because she has had a change of heart its still all good? yeah... no. Lena tells her what for again, poor love tells her she has friends that trust her, not knowing the very woman she is referring to is the same woman shes talking to. 

Kara then gets pissed that Lena gives Kara whats ‘left’ of the kryptonite.  I mean you were upset she had it and now you’re upset shes giving it to you? Once again the fact that this could help her fight Reign and save Sam when she and the others have spectacularly failed goes over her head and she attacks Lena again, who quite rightly tells Kara that lots of things in the world could hurt her but she goes on with life and doesn't whine about. Kara seems to think that NOTHING on Earth should ever be allowed to exist that could hurt her or any other Kryptonian completely forgetting  recent Kryptonian attacks, one of which she did herself oh and the current one. This is pretty God like behavior. She also doesnt have issues with DEO having weapons that  can hurt other aliens, as long as it isn't her.  Kara even pulls the ‘Luthor’ card on Lena. Note through all this its always Kara who has the issue with Lena, Lena has no issues with Supergirl until she attacks her. 

Kara thinks she has the authority to tell Lena she isnt coming to the dark valley to try and save her friend Sam, i mean why is Kara calling the shots here? She does redeem herself a bit when she tells Reign to take her instead of Lena, but honestly? Kara would have done that for literally anyone, this isn't because its Lena. 

Lena even returns to the DEO the moment Kara is in danger of dying. Lena has pre-made suit that even has the House of El crest on it! 

Remember also, that even after the interrogation, Alex asked Lena to just tell her why she didnt let on about Sam and Alex was absolutely OK with Lena’s explanation and didnt harp on about it, this is Alex Danvers whose life is dedicated to protecting Kara’s. 

Kara then did the ONE thing that i thought was so below the belt. She meddled in Lena's relationship and put it at risk. She quite literally went to Lena's boyfriend, a man who not long ago wasn't going to give her the time of day and wanted her in prison no matter what and Lena had to learn to trust, and Kara asked him of all people to betray Lena’s trust. Kara could have asked any DEO agent, but no, apparently James, the one person she SHOULDNT have asked to betray Lena was the only one who would do it? Im sorry Kara you dont do that under any circumstances. Kara is dumb anyway because she trusts James! He literally breaks into L Corp, then he lies to Kara and then drops her in it with Lena? There was NO reason for him to do that, he just wanted the best of both worlds. 

Kara gets pissed that Lena dared to make Harun El for anyone other than the mighty Kryptonian’s that have decreed that this substance they dont understand, arent even close to understanding and has the power to keep civilizations alive is NOT allowed to be used for the benefit of humans, but a human is allowed to  make it for the benefit of Kryptonians and only kryptonians, Yeah, Argo would be a floating city of dead people if it wasn't for Lena managing to figure something out in about a week that the entire race of advanced scientists o Argo weren't even close to doing. The fact is Kara jumps down her throat again, but this time its Alex that comes to Lena’s defence. 

The problem when it comes down to it, is that Kara is too quick to assume the worst in Lena, when she used to be the exact opposite. This is shoddy writing and OOC but unfortunately its what happened. Kara thinks she has authority over all things and the fact is she just doesnt. 

Getting James to betray Lena was the worst one for me, and the one that warrants a smack or in this case a punch in the face. If my best friend asked my significant other to betray my trust because she decided she couldn't trust me oh and then acted like she had nothing to do with it while i vented i would think about punching her and if it was the other way round she would probably think the same, and she would justified because that isnt friendship. 

Kara was Jekell and Hyde with Lena, she even looked her nose down at her in season 2 when she and Superman landed on L Corp’s balcony to talk to Lena and Lillian, the look Kara gave Lena has stuck with me because it was so superior, like because she was now standing with Superman she had more authority? Was she trying to measure up? 

Then there’s the fact that Kara has no issue letting Lena think her ass is in danger, or letting her think shes been blown up! 

Kara knows the amount of betrayals Lena has faced, but she just kept on going  and it was wrong. If she had no intention of telling Lena and letting her be the only one in her new found family that apparently wasn't trusted enough then she should never have gotten so involved with Lena in the first place. 

Kara ignored Lena after Mon El left, then only came to her when she needed her help, essentially her money and her influence. Then once shed asked for it she fobbed off Lena’s attempt to reach out to her. Lena actually does use her power and her own money to save Cat Co and Kara is just  like ‘oh ok, but i quit’. It was using Lena and it was harsh, even if Kara did say she would go back. Then you have Kara’s blatant disregard for Lena as a boss. 

The fact is Kara picks and chooses her attitude to Lena, she should pick ONE not have multiple personalities, choosing to support her on minute, ignore her the next or accuse her of misdeeds in another. 

Now think about what Lena is thinking? Kara lied about who she is, Lena is going to know a Super came to investigate her the moment she arrived in National City, this same super integrated herself into Lena's life and they got close, but Lena is probably wondering why that was now? If Lena had befriended Kara knowing she is Supergirl you know it would have been instantly treated as suspicious. Kara treated her like she was bad even after Lena helped save her and the world several times. Kara used the relationships Lena built against her. Kara acted like she had dull authority over her, she let her think her life was in danger or she was dead more than once. Yeah id be pretty p**sed to.Lena may even wonder why Kara pushed her to date James of all people, someone who wasnt a fan of hers, but then suddenly was? Oh was that so he could stay close to Lena and be used against her? To spy o  her? Lena ‘s feeling arent something Kara can just play with depending on how the mood hits her, actions have consequences and treating people like this isnt cool.

Its a lot for Lena to process, and its not like she can ask kara about it, even when Kara knows Lena knows she cant trust the explanations Kara may give her. 

If Oliver punched Barry the fans would just be like ‘ahh man! They’ll make it up’ 

Batman and Superman fight, ‘ahh man! They’ll make up’. 

But Lena punches Kara? ‘Oh my God abuse!!’ 

i dont think Lena is punching Kara because of the secret itself, shes probably punching her because of all the s**t that came along with it. 

(if you dont agree fine, but dont send hate) 

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

The Bodyguard - Chapter 8

Summary: Magnus is a dancing popstar sensation whose popularity continues to climb. Alec, an ex-Secret Service agent, is hired on as a professional bodyguard in charge of Mr. Bane’s personal security by insistence of Magnus’ manager. Despite their initial differences, Magnus finds himself falling for Alec the more time they spend getting to know each other and relies on him for more than physical security as his safety gets threatened. Loosely based on the 1992 film The Bodyguard.

Rating: M

Genre: AU, Everyone is Human AU, Celebrity!Magnus, Bodyguard!Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining

Author: holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight

A/N: You guys are much more than I deserve - thank you so much for being so patient. I am trying my hardest to keep up on writing better going forward so I can deliver the rest of this story in a more timely fashion. Thanks for sticking with me!

Click here to read on AO3.

Previous chapters on tumblr: Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7

* * * * *

Magnus woke up feeling like something died in his mouth overnight, but at least he was warm. He nuzzled into the pillow further, no desire to open his eyes coming once the head pounding kicked in.

His pillow felt oddly firm – not that he didn't like a well supported neck, but he was used to fluffier pillows at the hotels Raphael usually booked.

Consciousness gradually caught up with him, and that's when he realized he wasn't laying his head on a pillow at all.

It was the movement of the material under his cheek that alerted him of the fact whatever he was laying on was clothed, not a pillow case. And, drunken night or not, he knew there was only one man he could be tangled up with in his hotel bed.

Magnus opened his eyes slowly, peeking up to see that Alec was thankfully still sleeping soundly. He was spread underneath Magnus, Magnus somehow becoming an octopus overnight if his body curled around Alec's was any indicator. He had a leg between his, one arm stretched across him and tucked near his ribcage, and of course his head nestled comfortably on his torso.

He gently took back his enthuasiastic limbs and pulled away. Magnus couldn't help but stop to admire the man laid out in bed sleeping peacefully. His body was well defined, a light dusting of chest hair peeking up through the lopsided t-shirt, and his dark eyelashes framed beautifully against his pale skin.

He was gorgeous. Breathtaking. Lying there like the angels had carved him from marble. At least he was comfier than stone.

"Uh, what are you… is this comfortable for you?"

"Very. This okay?"

"Uh, yeah, yes. All good."

Magnus nearly groaned at the memory. Drunk him was not very restrained. He thought back to the night before, how he ended up tangled around Alec, and he was stunned by the bluntness of his desire for the other man.

How had Alec not been freaked out?

Magnus had blamed a lot on Alec being his bodyguard and his work ethic being the reasoning behind why he was kind or protective. But he knew he wasn't crazy to think there was something growing between them. At the bar last night, there was no way Alec wasn't flirting with him, showing him how to play pool the way he did. And Magnus stroking down his body did nothing but darken his gaze with desire.

His musing about all the times he maybe wasn't misreading Alec's feelings only lasted so long as he felt a sudden lurch in his stomach, and then he was running to the ensuite with his hand over his mouth before he could lose the contents of his stomach all over the hotel rug.

He closed the door a little too hard behind him, dropping to his knees as he began retching in the toilet, the disgusting regurgitation spilling out of him before he even made contact with the floor.

It didn't last long and was all liquid – his own fault for not eating enough the night before – and he shakily sat back against the wall as he recovered his breath once it was over.

"Magnus? Magnus, are you all right?"

Damn it. He woke Alec. He was hoping he could miss hearing him puking his guts out like some sort of freshly-turned-legal young adult. It wasn't exactly a shining achievement.

"I'm fine." Magnus croaked back, his throat more raw than he'd anticipated, making him sound like a long-term smoker with tar-drenched lungs.

"What can I do?" Alec asked, softer now, the concern slipping into his voice.

Magnus couldn't help but feel his heart warm at the sound. He and Alec may have had their differences, and frankly they still bickered regularly, but he knew there was no denying that Alec genuinely cared for his well being. He had made that pretty clear over the last week.

"Nothing. I'm fine, Alexander, I promise. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay."

Magnus heard him step away from the door and he took that as a win. He got to his feet and splashed some cool water on his face, trying not to groan at how the pounding in his head didn't seem to want to let up any time soon. He needed more sleep and hydration. Maybe some more cuddling wouldn't hurt either, seeing as Alec apparently wasn't opposed.

He brushed his teeth quickly, wanting to rid the vomit taste from his mouth, and headed back to the bedroom.

He was surprised to find Alec not there, but he was too tired and feeling too gross to go investigate where he disappeared to. For all he knew, he could be checking on his siblings in the other room. Izzy especially had matched him pretty closely drink for drink and he doubted she had the level of tolerance he did.

Magnus collapsed back on the bed, letting the duvet envelope him in a comforting cocoon of fluff, and he closed his eyes in the hope that the room would stop spinning so much.

He heard someone enter the room, and though he normally was more paranoid, he didn't have the energy to be anxious.

"Hey. Can you sit up for a minute?"

Alec had returned. If Magnus wasn't so hungover, he'd probably be grinning giddily at this point, now that he had some time to reflect on things. Could Alec really return his feelings?

He did as he was told, opening his eyes to see Alec holding out a cold bottle of ginger ale for him and some aspirin.

"I think you're going to need these." he explained.

Magnus nodded his thanks as he swallowed them down, the cool fizz easing his sore throat.

"Thank you, Alexander."

He watched as Alec headed into the bathroom and he closed his eyes again, ready for sleep to take him under to avoid feeling so wretched. He could celebrate his potential romantic victory later.

A loud noise made his eyes snap back open and he saw Alec flash a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. This thing isn't very cooperative."

Magnus stared as Alec carried over the obnoxious stand-up fan that was knocking against the floor every few steps. Alec turned the air on and pointed it at Magnus. He then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, running a cool cloth over his face and leaving it resting on his forehead.

The cool blowing air mixed with the damp cloth immediately helped ease some of his headache and discomfort, and Magnus found himself sighing in content as he laid flatter on the bed.

"That should help get you to sleep." Alec explained, the smile evident in his voice even if Magnus wasn't looking at him.

"You never cease to amaze me, Alec."

"Sleep." Alec murmured, running a comforting hand through his hair, and Magnus found his body obeying.

* * * * *

The next time Magnus woke up, he was feeling much more like a member of the living.

The damp cloth was off his forehead now, but the cool air blowing against his skin made it clear it hadn't been missing for long.

His headache was gone and his stomach was already beginning to grumble in protest at how empty it was. It seemed his puking earlier in the night was all it needed to clear it of the junk he had forced it to digest.

Magnus couldn't help but reach out to search for Alec, hoping to find him asleep next to him, but his space was empty and a little cooler than Magnus would like. It was clear he had left him to sleep a while ago.

He finally sat up and stretched, figuring he could use a shower before hunting down his bodyguard.

* * * * *

Alec had gotten up a couple hours prior to Magnus' second wakeup, knowing his siblings would be leaving soon. He knew Magnus would normally be the perfect host and want to make a fuss about them before they left, but he also knew his hangover was going to be rough enough, so he figured Magnus would forgive him for letting him sleep it off.

Izzy and Jace were fairing a bit better, Izzy the worst of the two, but that didn't stop her from being her usual meddling self.

"Hey, big brother. How'd you sleep?" she teased when he came back to the room after his morning workout.

Something must have shone in his eyes because her expression immediately melted from taunting to concern.

"Hey. You know I'm only teasing, right? You can tell me to screw off."

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. She wasn't one to give up easily though.

"Alec. I know I push all of your buttons, especially about this stuff. But I'm not trying to be malicious. I'm sorry if I've pushed too hard." she said honestly, squeezing his arm. "I just want you to be with someone who you can be yourself with, who appreciates you and you have actual fun with. I haven't seen you this comfortable with another person outside of family before. You just seem like… you're actually happy. That's all I ever want for you."

"I'm not upset with you, Iz. I know you're only teasing. I just… it's not like you and Jace are wrong. I have fallen for him, against my better judgment. I know I'm falling too fast but I don't know how to stop it now. The more time I spend with him, the harder I fall. I just… I'm terrified. Of how this is all going to blow up in my face."

Izzy took his hands in hers. "Alec. Have a little faith, okay? I know you're not alone in your feelings. But even if things don't work out? You are amazing. Nothing can change that. You deserve big love and you will find it someday, I know it."

"Thanks, Izzy."

She pulled him into a tight hug. "I love you, big brother. I'm so glad we got to see you even for a day."

"Same here." he agreed.

Jace chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, running a towel through his hair. "Aw, did I miss the sappy family hug moment? What a shame!"

"Oh get over here, you idiot." Izzy laughed.

Jace fake-sighed before bounding over and tackling the two of them in a group hug, the trio laughing together.

Jace ruffled Alec's hair as they separated. "Thanks for having us, Alec. We better head out since security takes forever at LAX. But take care of yourself, all right? And we're just a phone call away."

Alec hugged him solo this time, patting him gratefully on the back. "Thanks, Jace. I'll see you guys again soon, okay?"

"The tour is only a little longer!" Izzy added, slipping her sunglasses back into place and tugging her suitcase behind her. "Now let's go get some greasy airport food!"

Alec waved the pair of them out of the door before locking it properly. He would definitely miss them, but he also wasn't entirely adverse to having Magnus to himself again. He liked being 'forced' to share a bed with Magnus, but at least when they shared a hotel room it was a time when it was just the two of them, no other members of the team imposing on their space.

He figured he should go check on him but Izzy's last comment made him pause. Jace had said Izzy had been up a few times puking – if she was hungry for food now, maybe Magnus would be too.

Alec changed his direction and headed to the hotel phone, picking up the room service menu as he began to dial.

* * * * *

Magnus, feeling much more refreshed, headed out into the main area of the suite to find Alec waving off the hotel employee dropping off breakfast.

There were multiple trays on the trolley and Magnus felt his stomach grumble in anticipation.

"Feeling hungry this morning? I suppose with a body like that, you need your fuel."

Alec ducked his head at the compliment, busying himself with pushing the trolley further into the room and over to where Magnus had settled into the couch.

"It's not all for me. I figured you'd probably be hungry when you woke up. I wanted to get a jump on ordering it since I know you have such specific needs."

"Excuse me, are you calling me a diva?"

"When it comes to how you like your food, yes."

As Magnus eyed the food laid out before him, he felt his curiosity peak. "And how do you know how I like my food?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "Magnus. I've been by your side for pretty much every meal you've eaten for this entire tour. Let me prove it."

"Fine. Dazzle me with your knowledge." Magnus said with a smirk, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his seat.

"All right. First up, eggs. If scrambled, you want cheese in them. Cheddar is preferred but you'll take Monterary Jack if you can get it. Smoked cheddar is ideal. However, you prefer poached eggs. Medium, because you like a bit of a loose yolk but not too runny. If you're having toast, you want the poached eggs on there unless you're in the mood for your usual – which is sourdough toast with jam when you have a full course breakfast. Raspberry jam if you can get it. Bacon – cooked to the point where it's stiff but not crispy or crunchy. You want a little give to it, a little flexibility. Hashbrowns are always a must – you typically eat them with ketchup unless you have egg yolk to dip them in. And then of course freshly squeezed orange juice as you like lots of pulp. And coffee. With far too much cream and sugar for my taste. Unless you're half-asleep and it's a lighter roast or flavoured then you like it black."

Magnus simply stared at him, taken aback at Alec's detailed summary of his breakfast preferences. It was a little scary how accurate he was, down to his cheese preferences and ideal choices for bread type and jam flavour.

"So. Do I get full marks?" Alec asked, biting into his toast.

"Yes. You continue to amaze me, Alec." Magnus admitted, taking a drink of his coffee before moving to dig into his eggs.

Alec shrugged one shoulder, looking a little bashful as he continued eating, and Magnus knew this man was going to be the death of him.

"So. Plans for today?"

"I figured you'd be sleeping off your hangover." Alec told him.

Magnus blew out a breath. "To be honest, I'm feeling much better. Was thinking about getting Raphael to book me some time at a local studio, get some rehearsal in. I have to make sure I bring the final tour performance to the next level. Can't be rusty after these few days off."

"I don't think a man with your talent and dedication gets 'rusty' but sounds good. I was thinking I should get the team together for some more training, so I can always keep busy with that if I can get an adjacent room. Don't want you too far away just in case."

"Works for me. I'll text Raph."

"We have to leave tomorrow for the next tour stop, don't forget. So don't work yourself too hard and put yourself out when you do have to get back on stage."

"Yes, Mom."

* * * * *

It was a few hours later when Alec finished up with the security team and set them free so he could go track down Magnus. He had received a call from Raphael regarding their flight changes and wanted to make sure Magnus wasn't planning on a repeat of the night before with the extra time they were allotted.

He hoped the fear of another hangover after the rough one he endured was enough to keep him away from binge-drinking. It probably helped he didn't have special company to entertain as well.

Still, Alec wasn't getting a response to his texts and he couldn't help feeling a little uneasy at the fact that, room apart or not, he had left Magnus alone without backup. It was unlikely that his stalker would show up to the rehearsal space they only had booked earlier that day, but Alec hadn't ruled out the fact that it may be someone on Magnus' team who didn't have his best interests at heart.

He could hear the music pumping through the door so he figured Magnus was still working away.

Alec slipped unnoticed into the room, unable to help the corner of his mouth upturning at the sight of Magnus moving in front of the mirror. Not many people had the pleasure of seeing him practice unrestrained, without an audience to woo or play off that he's perfect. Instead, his face would furrow in concentration as he tried move after different move, trying to find the one he liked. Redoing certain choreography, replaying the song or parts over and over again until he found the thing that worked.

Although Alec had been reluctant to be personal security for a celebrity, it was because he had assumed it would be a spoiled airhead who had just been blessed with talent and the kind of personality that attracted attention. Instead, he discovered just how much work and how many hours were spent making things seem effortless. It wasn't just Magnus' design team, who plastered him with make-up, hair products and spent hours having him try on every clothing item they had come across to find the right combination. It was the hours of sound checks, rehearsals, choreographing, vocal work, from sun up to sun down day after day and then full on nonstop live performances night after night. Every waking minute for Magnus was spent perfecting his image, his showmanship, or travelling and Alec was rather blown away by all of the little things that went into making him successful. He felt exhausted just watching him sometimes.

But he also saw the exhilaration and pure joy on Magnus' face after a performance or a great rehearsal in a new venue. The way he lit up like a thousand suns as soon as he stepped out onto stage and had the audience lose their mind.

The few days off they had had been used productively, outside of Izzy, Jace and Catarina's visit. Magnus had squeezed in a few more interviews on both TV and radio, but the last tour performance was in a few short weeks and Alec knew Magnus would bring his all to it for the fans.

"Like what you see, Alexander?"

Magnus' coy voice interrupted his contemplation.

Alec's smile widened, stepping further into the room now that he was caught. He couldn't help the small chuckle from escaping him. "Just thinking about how exhausted you look."

Magnus pouted, but Alec could see the hint of a smile threatening to break out. He picked up his towel and wiped off his face, making his way over after turning off the music.

"Well you try doing these moves without breaking a sweat."

Alec laughed fully. "I don't dance, thank you."

Magnus grinned. "I could make you."

"Now that sounds like a nightmare come true." Alec teased, rolling his eyes at the foolish man.

Magnus looked him up and down, a hint of suggestiveness in his eyes. "Not for me."

Alec chewed his tongue, trying not to read into anything too much. He knew Magnus was like that with people. Automatically flirty. It didn't have to mean anything. But he couldn't help the swoop in his gut from the flattering attention, hoping he could rely on the genuinity in Magnus' eyes and the encouragement from his siblings.

He knotted his hands behind his back and let out a breath. "Magnus… I came here to let you know that the flights got moved tomorrow to a later time so we've got some time to kill in the morning. I wasn't sure if you had anything you wanted to do while we wait. Raphael mentioned he could likely set up another interview or two."

"Hmm… I think I'm interviewed out for now. I have a better idea – I want you to come with me somewhere."

"All right, where are we heading? I'll need to figure out where to station the others…"

Magnus interrupted, sly smirk gracing his handsome face. "Oh, no. Not everyone. Just you."

"Okay…. Now I'm afraid." Alec admitted.

Magnus grinned. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

* * * * *

"You know, I can't ensure your safety if you don't give me a warning for where we are going." Alec reminded him as he followed Magnus through the streets of LA.

"Oh lighten up already. It won't kill you to be spontaneous." Magnus threw over his shoulder.

"But it might kill you." Alec reminded him.

Alec didn't have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes. "Now who's being dramatic?"

"You're insufferable."

"And yet I'm right." Magnus quipped.

Alec looked up at the blinking sign before following Magnus through the door – Pandemonium.

Leave it to Magnus to take him to a busy night club.

There were people packed on the dance floor and many seated at different booths around the place. There were multiple bars to buy drinks from, and Alec knew immediately where he'd be spending his time.

"Now this… this is exactly what I've been looking for." Magnus said, spreading his arms widely as he took in the scene.

Alec looked sideways at him to see him beaming, trying not to roll his eyes at how different they were.

He may be feeling something for Magnus, something he was trying to bury until he was positive Magnus returned his feelings, but it was times like these he wondered how he ever imagined they'd work when they were so opposite. Where Magnus saw fun and a good time, Alec saw a headache and claustrophobia.

Still, it was worth it to see Magnus so excited.

"Drink?" Alec asked, placing a hand on the small of his back to tether them together as they wove through different bodies.

"Mm I like the way your mind works." Magnus purred, leading him to the more empty of the bars towards the back.

Alec followed obediently, keeping his hand glued to Magnus even as he leaned against the dark wood.

"What's your poison?"

"Uh, beer, usually."

"Well we can't have that. Can we get two Singapore Slings?" Magnus asked the bartender when he came to their end, flashing a brilliant smile.

Alec sighed and accepted the drink that was passed to him, trying a sip.

"All right?"

Alec was surprised by his own answer. "Uh, yeah, it's actually really good."

Magnus beamed. "I had a feeling you'd like gin."

Alec took a deeper drink, enjoying the flavours mixed together.

"So. You got me here. Now what?"

"Now we dance." Magnus beamed.

"Oh no, no, no. I told you already I don't dance."

"Now, now. Remember who your partner is. I won't let you make a fool of yourself. You tutored me in pool—now it's time for me to return the favour."

"How about I stay here and keep an eye on things and you dance? I can already see several interested people watching you. I'm sure they won't step on your feet."

The song changed to an upbeat dance song and Magnus sighed.

"Fine, I will start without you. But only because I refuse to waste this Selena song."

Alec smiled, happy with his victory, and slid onto the bar stool. He swiveled to face the dance floor, eyes only leaving Magnus to make sure there were no impending threats and to signal the bartender for another when the time came.

A group of young girls, likely only recently of legal age, were down a couple paces clinking shot glasses and chatting animatedly.

Their eyes kept sweeping the dance floor and then glancing at Alec while they whispered to each other, and Alec felt his discomfort rise. He really hoped he wouldn't have to turn down yet another request to dance, this time from those very much not his type.

A blonde man stepped forward to order a drink, putting a barrier between Alec and the girl group. It wasn't until he accepted a very full beer from the bartender that Alec's luck declined and one of the girls bumped into the man, causing him to lose his footing and stumble backwards, accidentally sloshing his beer onto Alec.

Alec could hear the girls giggling and apologizing and the man dismissed them politely before turning to him with apologetic eyes.

"I am so very sorry. Can I do anything?" he asked with a strong British accent.

Alec accepted a couple paper towel sheets from him that the bartender had given him to help clean up the mess.

"No, no, I'm fine. It mostly landed on my shoes, and they'll be fine."

"Can I buy you a drink? It's the least I can do."

He was certainly good looking, with a megawatt smile and smooth voice, but Alec's heart was already well and truly stolen.

"I appreciate it but I'm really fine. Still nursing this one." he added, gesturing to the drink in his hand that only had a few swallows out of it.

"So are you drinking alone?"

"No, I just lost the person I came with to the allure of the dance floor."

The guy chuckled, eyes following the line of sight Alec kept returning to, and he held out a hand.

"I'm Sebastian."

"Alec." he replied politely.

"So why aren't you out there? It looks to me like you're in impressive shape so I bet your body knows how to move."

Alec didn't miss the purr to his voice as he said it, and he tried not to blush at the attention. He wasn't used to being outwardly flirted with by men. The odd woman, sure, but they were far less intimidating. Usually he let off such an unapproachable vibe he was left alone.

"I was born with two left feet."

"Oh dear. Did you see a podiatry specialist for that?"

It took Alec a beat and then he laughed despite himself. "I suppose I should have. Now it's too late."

Sebastian moved closer, sitting in the stool next to him. "I could always try to teach you. Can't say I'm any better of a dancer though."

Alec opened his mouth to reply then shut it, not sure what to say to that.

Sebastian smiled for a moment, looking like he was about to say something, but a body pressing into Alec's and an arm snaking around his waist interrupted the private conversation.

"Okay, I've been patient, but you really need to come dance now." Magnus whined, leaning his weight into Alec before turning to the blonde. "Who's this?"

"Sebastian Verlac." the British man explained, reaching out a hand to shake.

"Magnus Bane." Magnus said, arm tightening around Alec, and Alec tried not to smile at the possessiveness in his hold and the fact that he didn't lift a hand to reciprocate.

Sebastian clearly had picked up on the tension too, hand lowering slowly. "I had just been apologizing to Alec for my clumsiness. I managed to spill some of my drink on him."

"It wasn't your fault. You were bumped into. And you barely got any on me." Alec reminded him.

Magnus' eyes darted between them, narrowing at the soft smile on Sebastian's face at the defence.

"It was nice to meet you, Sebastian. Magnus, shall we?" Alec said, steering Magnus away without waiting for an answer.

It was hard to keep the grin off of his face, and Magnus' glare once they were alone made it clear that he was failing miserably at doing so.

"Why are you so amused?"

"I didn't take you for the jealous type." Alec admitted.

"I am not jealous!" Magnus exclaimed. He then seemed to catch on to the hysterical edge to his voice and pouted.

"It's flattering, really. A celebrity like yourself…" Alec teased.

"You know, your smugness is not an attractive quality."

"Mm I don't know. I think you find me plenty attractive anyways." he grinned.

"Oh, shut up and dance already." Magnus grumbled, twirling away from him as he started moving to the song. Alec recognized it as a popular single by Camila Cabello that Izzy used to sing around the house.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system or the ego boost from Magnus' obvious jealousy at another man stealing his attention away, but Alec was feeling more confident that he was right that there was something growing between them.

Alec reached for Magnus' waist, tugging his body flush to him, and he saw Magnus' eyes darken immediately.

"I thought you wanted to dance together?" Alec murmured, hands clutching Magnus' hips to keep their pelvises snug as they moved in rhythm.

Magnus' body responded immediately, grinding against him, and his hand slid up his chest to cup Alec's neck.

"I thought you said you don't dance." Magnus breathed into his skin, nosing along his collarbone.

"I said I don't–not that I can't." Alec replied, palming across Magnus' lower back and slipping under the hem of his shirt to stroke his skin.

It was like it was just the two of them in the room. A fight could break out inches away and they'd be oblivious, far too focused on the feel of being so close after so long of denying themselves.

Alec rotated Magnus so they were entwined back to front, Magnus' ass nestling into the contour of his hips. Magnus grinded back into him, groaning at the feel of Alec's arousal trapped between them and feeling his own spring to life.

"Alexander…" Magnus whispered, head falling back to his shoulder so he could speak against his cheek, intentionally letting his lips brush the soft skin. "We're going to have to move this or this is going to get very embarrassing for me soon."

Alec knew he wouldn't be alone in that, and that Magnus must be able to feel his body responding to the friction they were creating between their bodies.

"Let's go." Alec said huskily, separating them and heading towards the door.

Magnus interlaced their fingers and let Alec lead him out of the club, the shiver that went through his body having nothing to do with the night air.

* * * * *

Continue to Chapter 9