#but she's worked two days in a row and earned the run out

[elvenferretots]

It's always frisbee season.

[namism]

deceiver | hange zoë

➳ categories: canonverse, commander hange, female squad leader reader, fluff, yelena loves women (don't ask)

➳ word count: 4.3k

➳ summary: It's normal for soldiers to be happily married, but when it comes to your marriage with Commander Hange Zoë, the entire regiment doesn't believe it.

➳ notes: for reference, this is wim and this is holger. also, i like to imagine that spouse hange simps for you so much that they ended up assigning you as the new squad leader of the fourth squad lmaooo

➳ cross-posted on ao3

"There you are!"

You turn around to see Hange enter the office and shut the door promptly with a loud thud. You flinch upon the sound. Curious as to what you’re up to, the Commander strides toward your station, where rows of microscopic slides sit for preparation.

Standing behind you, Hange rests their chin on your right shoulder and hugs your waist loosely. They watch you place a cover slip on a wet sample.

They hum.

"Just seven minutes ago, your squad was looking for you at the dining hall, which led me to think, 'Hmm… what could my beautiful wife be up to on this fine afternoon?'" You roll your eyes, snickering. "I would have never guessed that she'd be scholarly working at my office when she could've worked at hers."

"Oh, Hange," you say with a shake of your head. "Who am I to pass up on the opportunity of working at a larger space during my free time?"

You pipette a drop of infusion to a new slide.

"I admit it's messier here, but the Commander always has nicer things, and I happen to be married to them."

Hange pinches your cheek before kissing it.

"Ha-ha, cheeky. That's why you’re my wife."

Hange leaves you to your devices and walks around their desk. They pour themselves a glass of water before looking out the window. They watch a pair of new recruits walking in the quadrangle.

Hange smiles to themselves. The sight reminds them of when you first met, back when you couldn't even stand within three feet from them out of embarrassment. Hange was from the graduating class two years above you, and by the time you joined the Scouts, they had already earned their spot in the regiment's chain of command.

"What are you thinking of?" You appear beside them, having left your work on the counter. Hange giggles and points at the two suspecting love birds in the courtyard below. "Ah. From the 107th?"

"Yep! Looks like us, huh?"

You snorted.

"No way. They don't even seem to talk to each other. You, on the other hand"—you elbow Hange gently—"ran your mouth all day long until my ear fell off."

"You loved listening to me talk!" Hange retorts. You look at them, unamused. "Alright, I might have annoyed you at first, but you secretly loved having me around."

"Unfortunately, I did," you say with a sigh. Hange pats your head, laughing to themselves.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the door. Hange orders them to enter.

"Commander!" A soldier from the 106th Training Corps calls with a salute. “Captain Levi requests to see you.”

Patting your head turns into combing your hair. Hange continues the endearing action as they raise an eyebrow at the soldier.

“About what?”

“About a prospective meeting with General Zackly, sir.”

“I’ll be there in a few.”

The soldier salutes again. Before leaving, he sees the Commander tell you something before kissing you on the lips. When the Commander looks back at the door to see him still standing there, he runs out in a hurry and shuts the door sheepishly.

Scurrying away from the scene, he runs into a friend.

“Hey, Holger,” the soldier greets. He looks at Holger worriedly as if he’s seen a ghost. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, Wim,” he replies. He looks over his shoulder, gawking at the hallway he just came from, the one leading to the Commander’s office. “I was wondering…”

Wim squints his eyes at Holger’s mumbling. He tilts his head to the side.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I was wondering…” Holger mumbles the other half of the sentence.

“I still can’t hear you.”

Holger steps forward. Wim follows. Leaning closer to his friend, Holger whispers into his ear.

"I was wondering, is the Commander seeing someone? Maybe one of us, the Scouts?"

Wim is taken aback.

"How would I know that?"

"Because!" Holger hisses. He takes a cautious look over his shoulder to make sure that no one else is around before proceeding. "The Commander... They were with the Squad Leader of the Fourth Squad when I entered their office."

"Hmm..." Wim thinks to himself, rubbing his chin. "Why would you suspect a relationship over that?"

"Because the Commander kissed her!"

Wim's eyes widen. He stands there speechless, but he communicates with Holger through his eyes, asking for an affirmative answer to a question he never spoke: "Are you telling the truth?"

Suddenly, you emerge from the end of the hallway, humming a melodic tune as you flip through the yellowing pages of a book. The two soldiers stand there, unmoving. They cannot run to save themselves.

"Why, hello there," you greet with a sweet smile upon passing them. You close the book. "Do you need anything?"

They salute. Holger shakes his head.

"No, Ma'am! We were on our way."

You nod.

"Great! Because trust me, you don't want the Commander finding you dilly-dallying in the hallway of their office." You laugh lightheartedly, but Wim and Holger can't find it in them to laugh along as they fear their superior more than anything. "Anyway, off you go, and have a nice day, you two!"

As you walk along your merry way, the two soldiers look at each other dumbfounded before tending back to their duties.

Locomotives are great Marleyan inventions.

It turns out that locomotory wheels are conical in shape to avoid derailment when the tracks turn at a certain point. Connie remembers Armin mentioning something about centrifugal force, a concept he doesn’t understand enough to engage in intellectual discussion, but something he wants to ponder on to find out if it's worth learning in order to build the tracks from the Walls to the harbor.

The last time he checked, he doesn't really need to account for "centrifugal force" when laying steel on the ground. Connie may not be as intelligent as Armin, but he can understand that far. So really, he doesn't understand the need for Armin to ramble about "centrifugal force" under this scorching heat.

Mikasa hauls ultrahard steel from the cart to the end of the track. As she works on the welding, Armin chases Sasha around who has called dibs on the last pint of water. Connie and Jean curse behind Eren's back for suggesting they work on the railway instead of the new recruits who probably have nothing better to do.

Connie wipes the sweat off his forehead. Catching his breath, he decides to slack off for a few minutes. He watches Jean defeatedly sit on the ground panting, his fedora hat shielding his face from the sun.

Connie snickers. He finds the fedora hat on Jean funny. He looks like a rich snobby civilian from Wall Sheena.

To his left, Mikasa lays the blocks of steel neatly on the railway. Connie notices the scar she got from the Battle of Trost four years ago and the bandaging around her right arm that covers a tattoo of the Azumabito's crest.

Everyone has tiny details of themselves that normally go unnoticed, it seems.

As Connie wonders what his would be, he hears the clopping of hooves from the distance, followed by you, Hange, and Levi on horseback.

Connie helps Jean back up and they form a circle around the new arrivals.

"Ah! Working hard under the sun, I see?" Hange teases the group while Jean complains. You laugh beside them, bringing your left hand to cover your mouth. Connie notices.

"Since when did you guys get so tall?" Levi clicks his tongue, peering up at him with an irked expression. Connie continues to stare.

He doesn't know if he's seeing things correctly. For all he knows, it could be the heat messing with his brain. On your left ring finger, however, sits a metal band with a sparkling stone on its bed. Even as you put your hand down, Connie ponders on this discovery and zones out for the entirety of Hange's chattering.

He only manages to hear they cannot count on Hizuru to negotiate with other nations before staring at your hand like a creep. No one seems to notice his gawking, though, because he gets lost in his thoughts for a solid minute.

The last time he checked, you didn't wear a wedding ring, and you weren't into wearing jewelry at all for the fear of losing them at work. Although Connie isn't your closest friend, he believes he would have never missed out on this very important information about your life, given that you have survived many battles together along with the crew.

"...The world can't see our faces. Why would they ever trust us?" Connie snaps out of his thoughts and watches Hange throw their hands out. "So... let's meet them ourselves. If they don't understand who we are, we just have to teach them."

Meet them ourselves? Connie thinks to himself. We're going outside?

As the others reflect on the idea, Connie thinks of what he would do and should do upon arrival at the Marleyan mainland. He once again zones out, now staring at Hange as he does so.

Wait, what's that?

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. Beams of sunlight bounce off Hange as they wave their hands around while speaking.

He narrows his eyes. Hange stops moving. They drop their hands to their side.

He sees it.

A metal band fits perfectly on their left ring finger, slightly different from yours in design, but too similar to conclude one thing.

Hange and (Y/N) are married?!

Connie looks into the distance, wide-eyed. He begins to rack his brain for clues, idle instances and memories that could have hinted at your relationship.

He focuses too much on his searching that he doesn't even notice you, Hange, and Levi retreating to the Walls and leaving him and the squad once more.

It must have been the heat yet again when he sees Hange put a discrete hand on your waist as you pass them on horseback.

Ever since the formation of an alliance with Paradis military, Onyankopon has been running around non-stop with Yelena to speak for the Anti-Marleyan volunteers. As expected, he rarely gets a day off without running into trouble, but when he does, he makes sure to enjoy it all by the ocean, where the Marleyan chefs have set up a dine-in food service by the dock.

He's sharing a table with Yelena when he hears a familiar voice fast approaching. His face lights up.

"Hange!" he greets the Commander with his hands up in the air. Hange sits on the chair beside him. "What have you come here for?"

"I ran an errand nearby, so I decided to come." Hange waves at one of the Marleyan chefs and shouts their order. The chef nods silently, his anger for the island devils long gone. "What are you up to?"

"I was thinking of some improvements for the gear you use to move around." Onyankopon hums, thinking if it would be a good idea to bring it up now. "Although that could be a discussion for another day."

"I would love to hear it!" Hange looks at the blonde woman sitting across them. "What about you? I take it that you've explored the island by how much work you've been doing."

"Unfortunately, nobody can beat the Commander in that sport," Yelena replies. Hange laughs bitterly. "I've been doing well, thank you very much. The people at Shiganshina are surprisingly welcoming, but I prefer the ones at Wall Sheena much more."

Yelena sips on the green tea in front of her. Hange stares blankly.

"O-oh! I'm guessing it's the weather or the district architecture?" they assume. Yelena shakes her head.

"While I fancy those things, I believe Wall Sheena has much more interesting… women. Some of them I eye particularly," Yelena remarks. "Has that ever happened to you, Commander?"

"W-well," Hange stutters, unsure of what to say, "no, it hasn't."

"Oh." Yelena smirks, placing her chin on top of her hand as she leans forward, studying Hange. Suddenly, she looks at their left hand intently, making them follow the direction of her stare. "Then what could possibly explain the new band on your finger if it weren't for a charming man who sought after you in the richer districts?"

Hange mentally sighs. They roll their eyes inside their head.

Onyankopon clears his throat.

"I believe I should stay out of this," he says, leaning back on the chair.

"It's alright. This is just small talk," Hange reassures him by giving a joyful response. They look back at Yelena. "Anyway, I find the outer districts more homey than the inner ones, but to each their own. I would have to correct you on two things, though. First of all, I was never sought after. I chase."

Yelena tilts her head to the side, intrigued. It seems very Hange-like to busy themselves chasing after people.

"And the second one?"

As soon as the food arrives, Hange grabs the big glass of water and downs half of it in one go.

"I have never felt interest for a man. Surprising?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Right, I should have detected it that far. No, it isn’t surprising," says the blonde. "I find women endearing as well. I apologize for my assumptions."

"I apologize, too." Onyankopon bows his head in guilt albeit being a spectator. Hange waves their hand to dismiss them.

"That's one lucky woman, I would say. It isn't often that you meet and marry a Commander," Yelena continues. Hange doesn't know how to feel about her persistence, but they've observed Yelena to be very persistent over the past two years. Her nagging is expected. "So? If she doesn't live in the inner Walls and the Commander doesn't have the time to roam civilian grounds... do we know her?"

Hange saw this coming. They knew Yelena would be able to deduce that far.

Instead of a proper response, they shrug.

"No idea, but as perfect as she is, I can tell you that you wouldn't get along well." Hange looks at Yelena's plate, steaming with food. "She would pick at your food if she had your meal, then she would give me the rest."

Hange invites Onyankopon to take the first bite and they begin to dine. Yelena is left laughing at herself.

"You got me, Commander Hange. I'm sure she is beautiful like the ones I'm fond of from your regiment."

"Of course she is."

As Onyankopon shifts the subject into something else, Yelena eats her food piecemeal, thinking of the mysterious identity of the Commander's wife. You must be a soldier yourself, but Yelena hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary from the many people Hange surrounds themselves with. Yelena can usually tell when people are together thanks to her keen eye. It should be generally easier to find out who you are since there isn't a lot of women Hange is associated with, but her radar is still deeply challenged.

She shrugs. She'll figure it out in time.

Months later, the new gear comes in.

You open your trunk. As expected, the gear is similar to that of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad's. The main components of the vertical maneuvering gear are still there, save for the blade compartment replaced by single-use cartridges and pistols. The gas cylinder is wider than the ones from the previous gear, now attached to two axles strapped to the back harness.

You look to your right. Mikasa's equipment is missing the set of firearms in favor of blades. She stares at her trunk.

"We need you at the forefront in attacking the intelligent Titans," Levi speaks behind her. "No use in giving you stupid pistols. You can kill humans even with blades."

Mikasa nods. You look at your gear once more. No blades, just pistols.

"I'm guessing this makes me in charge of the human killing?"

Levi thinks to himself.

"Not quite."

You knit your eyebrows.

"Hange has other plans for you. Ask them."

Later that day, the Scouts are ordered to try on their gear and practice zipping around the Forest of Giant Trees to get accustomed to them. You and your squad watch as Mikasa flies around, flawlessly carrying four Thunder Spears on each arm.

A hand rests on your shoulder. You look behind you to find Hange in the new gear and the complementary black suit, their oval glasses replaced by goggles. You nod to your squad and they disperse promptly, leaving you and Hange alone.

"Looks like you've done it again, Commander. At long last, there are no major issues with the gear."

They sneer.

"It wouldn't be possible without the Anti-Marleyan volunteers. I owe half of it to them." They examine you in your uniform, eyes scanning your entire body like they haven't just done so a couple of minutes ago. "That sure suits you. Have you gone around?"

"No, actually," you tell them after muttering a shy 'thank you'. Suddenly, you place your hands on your hips as you remember something. "Hey, wait a second. Why don"t I have blades in my trunk? Are we not letting the Fourth Squad attack?"

Hange looks at you, unsurprised, as if they expected such a question.

"I need you to stay on the airship as backup," they reason.

You look at them dubiously.

"Just me?"

"And your squad."

You shake your head.

"I don't know. There seems to be a hidden motive behind that."

"Are you questioning my decision?" they challenge.

"I'm questioning you as your wife," you say, another one of your tricks to dodge insubordination. Hange scoffs. "What exempts my squad from this?"

"Squad Levi will be at the frontline if we're up against the Nine Titans. Your squad will only attack when things go astray. Until then, your job is to scout aerially and make sure that nobody intrudes."

You open your mouth to argue, but Hange hooks their gear to a nearby tree.

"Last one to get out of the forest is a loser!"

"Hey—!" Your words are interrupted by them flying away at top speed. You grumble. "Ugh, Hange!"

Launching a grappling hook on the nearest tree, you propel yourself forward as you chase them with all your might. Hange takes a sharp turn halfway through, but you predict their actions a second too early. They whiz past trees in random directions, passing fellow soldiers in the same uniforms that camouflage them all too well, but your agility allows you to keep up.

"Wow, you're getting too close," they remark upon looking over their shoulder and finding you only two trees away. "Maybe I should keep you with Levi at the frontlines— (Y/N)!"

"HELP ME!"

The operating device that controls the right grappling hook of your gear stops working the moment you dislodge the left hook from the tree behind you, sending you free-falling from 70 meters in the air. You press on the right-hand device again but to no avail. You try the left, but the steel wire is visibly stuck after immediate retraction.

The wind blows the hair away from your face as you free fall. All it takes is approximately 3.8 seconds for you to hit the forest floor, but when you protect your head and brace for impact, you are caught by Hange just in time.

"O-oh my gosh—" you try to process your thoughts as you clutch your heart.

Hange settles you down on the ground. The Scouts nearby halt their training and land on the surrounding tree branches, observing the aftermath of the incident. Members of your squad and Levi's arrive moments later, followed by numerous soldiers with inkling curiosity at your desperate shriek.

Still shocked, you tug at Hange's suit to thank them, but they look furious.

It's not your fault, but you feel small under their gaze.

Hange is a different person when mad.

"Are you okay?!" they ask frantically, one hand patting your body for any signs of injury as the other holds you tightly. Hange repeats the question, but you can't answer properly as you try to come into terms with the shock. You've used broken equipment before, but none of those instances were as life-threatening as this.

Hange notices your body trembling, and they take it as a sign to stop asking you any further.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm not mad at you, I just... ugh!"

Their face contorts into frustration once more. How is it possible that everyone else's gear is working perfectly fine, but yours isn't? Hange made sure to keep their instructions clear as the new equipment were distributed among the soldiers: keep the Fourth Squad's and Squad Levi's the most defect-free.

As Levi approaches, Hange remembers the engraving on the body of the device that should be present in everyone else's gear: a unique serial code that should differ from each one. They gently turn you on your side to check the engraving.

Their blood boils.

"Everyone, stop whatever you are doing!”

In the far distance, you can hear the soft whirs of the anti-personnel maneuvering gear coming to a halt, clearly hearing the voice of their Commander.

“Alright, now tell me which USELESS DIMWIT in the Walls decided to give MY WIFE the broken gear that I instructed MANY TIMES to get rid of before coming here?!"

The entire forest remains quiet, possibly even quieter than before. The Scouts stare at the Commander, reflecting on their words with mouths agape.

They collectively don't know which piece of information to process first: the fact that Commander Hange is fuming in anger of a possible sabotage or the fact that they had just revealed your marriage. Somewhere in the crowds of soldiers, a few gasp at the latter detail.

Albeit still trembling, your face heats up at Hange's outburst, feeling a hundred different pairs of eyes looking down at the both of you.

You shake Hange's arm.

"I-I'm okay, you were there just in time, Hange—"

"Until I find out the idiot who did it, nobody is leaving this stupid forest!"

"Oi, Hange. Have mercy on your wife." Levi points at your shaking form. Your head faces the ground, afraid to look up given the commotion. Two of your squad members rush beside you for comfort. "It could have been intentional. Don't act rashly now."

Hange inhales deeply to respond to Levi's statement, but they hesitate as rationality strikes them. They momentarily let go of you to push their goggles to the top of their head before squeezing your hands tightly.

"I'm so sorry. Change out of your gear and leave with your squad. I'll meet you later."

You find it better to follow than to disobey them. Standing up from the ground, you immediately lean in for a hug. Although not as intimate as you normally would, Hange embraces you back and you feel even more eyes peering at the two of you.

"Thank you so much. I love you."

"I love you, too."

As you leave with the Fourth Squad, Wim and Holger stare at each other, their jaws reaching the floor. They can't communicate freely in the environment they're in, but their wide eyes are enough to articulate the incredulity and satisfaction of knowing that they were right all along.

By the foot of the trees, Connie stands in between Armin, Jean, Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha, who are equally dumbstruck by the revelation.

Connie looks at Sasha, whom he has amazing telepathy with.

Did you know this? Sasha asks. I did not know this.

I think I knew this, Connie replies.

How do you 'think that you know this'? Sasha asks again. Either way, that's not fair! I didn't know!

Connie shakes his head. Nobody did for certain. Maybe except for Captain Levi.

The ride back to the Survey Corps headquarters is silent. You're too shameful to talk to your squad members as close as you may be, but you're grateful for their understanding of your boundaries.

On your way to the headquarters, you pass by the Anti-Marleyan volunteers with Yelena notably in the crowd. Her face brightens up the moment she sees you in the new maneuvering gear; she thinks you look a thousand times prettier than your day-to-day style. She makes her way to your sauntering horse, then tries to catch your attention with a friendly wave of her hand.

Before she can speak with you, one of your squad members taps her shoulder and shakes his head. Yelena slows down her pace and decides to lag behind with the man who had tapped her.

"Squad Leader (Y/N) doesn't want to speak to anyone at the moment," your squad member explains. Yelena raises her eyebrows, awaiting further explanation. "She is following Commander Hange's orders."

"What does the Commander have to do with whom she speaks to?" Yelena asks, finding it ridiculous that Hange would impose such a dumb rule for you to follow.

The man looks panicked.

"Well... she is the Commander's... wife," he replies, unsure if he should be spreading such information that was only revealed to him not more than 20 minutes ago. Yelena nearly stops walking.

What the hell did he just say?

A random memory from many months ago occurs to her.

Onyankopon, the Commander, and the Marleyan chefs. The dining service by the harbor. Yelena noticing the wedding band on the Commander's finger. Commander Hange mentioning their preference, making their interests clear.

Yelena deducing that they were married to a fellow soldier.

"Apologies, but I will be on my way," the man bids goodbye and commands the horse forward to catch up to the rest of the squad. Yelena is left by the side of the road, alone in shock.

She chuckles bitterly.

Out of all people, she thinks to herself.

At the very least, Hange was telling the truth. You are beautiful.

[saebyeokbliss]

trust me on this one. professor!saebyeok/reader

PICTURE YOU

synopsis: sae-byeok is your professor. what happens when the professional, incredibly attractive teacher you've been pining over in secret reciprocates? warnings: teacher/student romantic relationship, tiny angst if you squint

pairing: professor!sae-byeok x fem!student!reader

a/n: oh i trusted and did it. now I'm obsessed

Sae-byeok is a young, brilliant professor at Seoul National University (SNU), teaching Comparative Politics with a focus on global systems of inequality and power dynamics.

Her reputation precedes her: she’s strict but fair, incredibly sharp, and always composed. She’s also insanely beautiful, which has earned her a quiet fanbase of admirers on campus.

You’re a second-year student majoring in Political Science who signed up for her class because of her stellar reputation.

You didn’t expect her to be… this. The first time she walked into the lecture hall, her presence was magnetic. She was all sharp cheekbones, dark, intense eyes, and a voice that commanded attention.

You’re sitting in the middle row, trying to be invisible, but Professor Kang Sae-byeok’s eyes scan the room like a hawk. Despite yourself, you can’t help but be drawn to the way she carries herself��calm authority in every step.

During one of her lectures, she asks a question about the intersection of political theory and economic disparity. You hesitantly raise your hand, and to your surprise, she seems genuinely interested in your answer.

After class, she stops you briefly. “That was a good point,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “You should speak up more often.”

You start attending her office hours to ask about assignments, but it becomes clear that the two of you share a love for deep philosophical debates. Conversations flow effortlessly, and you begin to see glimpses of the person behind the professional exterior.

Sae-byeok is reserved, but the way her lips twitch into the smallest smile when you say something clever sends your heart racing.

One day, you run into her outside campus—she’s at a bookstore downtown, flipping through a thick hardcover. She looks surprised to see you but doesn’t brush you off. Instead, she spends a few minutes talking about her favorite authors. You leave the encounter feeling giddy, clutching the book she recommended.

There’s also the time you bump into her in the hallway, and she catches your arm to steady you. It’s nothing, really, but her hand lingers for just a second too long.

You start noticing the way her gaze lingers on you in class, just for a moment longer than anyone else.

She always finds a way to give you thoughtful feedback on your work, and it feels more personal than it should.

It happens late one evening, after you’ve stayed behind to help her organize papers for a conference she’s attending. The room is quiet, the golden glow of the desk lamp casting soft shadows.

“You shouldn’t spend so much time here,” she says, her tone gentle but strained. “People will talk.”

You hesitate before replying. “And if I don’t care about what they say?”

She looks at you then, really looks at you, and for the first time, her composure cracks. “You don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I do,” you insist, stepping closer. “I think about you all the time, Professor Kang.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, quietly, she admits, “You think I don’t feel the same?”

From that night on, everything changes. You and Sae-byeok begin seeing each other in secret.

She’s cautious, always reminding you of the risks—her career, your future—but she can’t seem to stay away from you.

Late-night study sessions in her office turn into stolen kisses. You text each other under the guise of “academic discussions,” but the messages are laced with longing.

On weekends, she takes you to quiet, out-of-the-way places where no one would recognize her.

Sae-byeok struggles with the morality of it all. She’s your professor, after all, and the power dynamic weighs heavily on her mind.

“You deserve someone who can love you freely,” she says one night, her voice breaking. “Not someone who has to hide you.”

But you refuse to let her go. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.”

Eventually, you both agree to keep things discreet until you’re no longer in her class.

The secrecy is thrilling but also exhausting, and it tests your relationship in ways you didn’t expect.

When the semester ends, and you’re no longer her student, she finally lets herself love you without restraint. The first time she takes your hand in public, you feel like you’re floating.

It’s a rainy night, and you’re at her apartment, sitting cross-legged on the couch while she grades papers. The sound of the rain against the windows fills the space, and she looks impossibly soft without her usual professional armor—her hair tied back loosely, reading glasses perched on her nose.

“You’re staring,” she says without looking up, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

“Well, what can I say?” you reply, and she finally glances at you, her eyes warm in a way that makes your chest ache.

Sae-byeok sets the papers aside and leans over, cupping your face in her hands. “You’re impossible,” she murmurs, but the way she kisses you says otherwise.

[crguang]

wasted with longing, part 2

You have never been so bothered in your life. Why? You refuse to admit it to yourself yet.

friends with benefits, afab!reader, gp!kafka, smut, mutual masturbation, facetime/video call sex, 6k words

A/N: after two whole months… we’re so back (im sorry). i giggled a lot writing this because the simple concept of fuckboy kafka is so ridiculous but i swear there’s a plot somewhere

part one part three

The bright light of your laptop screen starts to burn your retinas, and you blink quickly to chase away the fatigue building up under your eyelids. The words on the page stopped mattering over an hour ago yet you’re in no position to throw your work to the wind; you’ve already made it this far and this presentation is due in exactly 12 hours and 33 minutes. You’re at a stage where you blame everything and everyone that has ever contributed in leading you to where you sit against your bed’s headboard, lights dimmed low as your fingers brush over the keyboard in clicking sounds you’re deafened to. Your anxiety is the only thing keeping you awake, and if you cared about your job just a little less, you would have quit right then. You thought you’d left all-nighters in the past with boring college classes and tiny dorm rooms but life has an irritating way of repeating itself. 

You let out the hundredth sigh of the hour and take a moment to breathe in slowly through your nose, head tilted to the ceiling and eyes screwed shut, before exhaling loudly. You steel yourself for what you know is at least another hour of bullshitting statistics that you will do your best to present confidently this afternoon, but you can’t even pretend to like what you do anymore. Working in research has never been the most exciting career despite the occasional interesting discoveries you’ve been a part of. Still, you needed a job that would allow you to afford to live on your own in a city far away from your nagging parents and you were getting good at denying the fact that it is sucking the soul out of you. Your days are mundane, your routine unsatisfying, and you long for something more like most adults your age. You can’t quit until you find a better alternative that will pay you the same or more, so you bite back another exasperated groan and go back to your slides.

You wouldn’t be in this position eight days ago. You’ve had a week to come up with this presentation and instead of working on it like the diligent employee you usually are, most of your time was spent with your head in the clouds, preoccupied by someone who isn’t thinking about you. It makes you sick how bothered you are. It’s not like anything changed between the last time you talked and the one before that, and you were never as distracted by the lack of response as you have been this past week. You ignored your responsibilities, went out with friends four days in a row to convince yourself of your fake nonchalance just to find yourself in trouble that could have easily been avoided, anxious over the career you’ve worked so hard to earn.

Nothing good comes out of allowing that woman a bigger place in your thoughts than the three square feet corner she deserves, you know that. What frustrates you the most is that you don’t understand where this sudden concern for her lack of honesty comes from. Lies flow out of her like she was born with them on her lips; again, you know that. Then, what is the issue? Without identifying the root of the problem, you’re left a snowball of jumbled thoughts and insecurity steadily getting bigger as it nears the foot of the mountain until it inevitably crashes into a tree and falls apart completely. Why say things she doesn’t mean? Are you disposable? You hate her. Does she hate you? You should block her number. Why do you care? Screw her. 

…You wish you could.

Your laptop screen turns dark and snatches you back to reality. You got lost in thought again. You run a hand over your face, using two fingers to rub the inner corner of your eyes. You’re pathetic. Even now with this feeling of impending doom looming over you, your mind drifts to her and attempts to find reason behind her actions when there is likely none. Your work is important to you, she is not. Yet, you’re incapable of focusing on the PowerPoint in front of you. You start to wonder if you should lie down, rest your eyes for a few hours and finish the presentation when you wake up, right before you get ready to leave for the office. It would be cutting it extremely close, but you can’t think clearly anymore and the stress gets more paralyzing as the minutes go by. Another tired sigh escapes you. Maybe you simply need to relax a little, perhaps with some scalding tea. 

You push your laptop aside and stretch your body on the covers, arms over your head like a lazy cat. You’ll prepare a cup of tea to soothe your muscles then you’ll finish your work and go to bed. If you lie to yourself enough times, you believe you can make it. You straighten up and smooth down your hair. You’re about to stand up when a familiar ping! near you announces a new text message. You reach for your phone on your nightstand, thinking perhaps one of your friends got drunk again and needed a ride home, and tap the screen to open your notification center. 

You stare at the screen until it turns black, tap it so it lights up again and repeat the process a couple more times as your mind processes what your eyes are seeing and the implications behind it. You almost can’t believe the message you just got and have to click the notification to open up the private conversation; there, at 2:29 AM, Kafka sent you a video. You can’t make out much from the blurry cover, though the lighting seems low like it was filmed during the late evening. Your thumb hovers over it for a moment, wondering if she even meant to send that to you since she hasn’t texted or called since the last time you hooked up. In hindsight her behaviour is not so unusual, you thought you were used to her elusive ways but if the past week has taught you anything, it’s that you obviously expect something from her. Honesty, basic human decency— to not leave you feeling like a wet towel discarded in the laundry bin after she’s used it.

“…Fuck it.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you despite your self-pity at the prospect of always making yourself available for her no matter the time. It’s a coincidence, you tell yourself. The two of you have many of those. You press the play icon on the video and it expands to the full screen. The camera shakes a little, then steadies to show half of Kafka’s body from an inclined angle and part of her face, peach lips on display. She’s wearing a strapless dress, the kind only worn to impress, with a pearl necklace over her collarbone; it’s your first time seeing her in something other than casual clothes. You have to admit that you wish you could’ve seen the whole outfit, if only to… You don’t know. 

Kafka is sitting on a bed judging by the white sheets you can spot, and you blink several times at the unmistakable outline of her cock and hard nipples through the material of her dress. You watch in disbelief as she pulls the fabric up to her waist, revealing the garter belt around one of her thighs. Her hand slithers between her breasts and down her stomach to finally disappear under her clothes, but the way she begins stroking herself is purposely obvious. The head of her cock creates a tent meant to remind you of how big she is, and she pumps her shaft steadily, her lips parting slightly to let out low hums of pleasure. You stare, unmoving, unaware of your pulse’s quicker pace as Kafka jerks off on video, the erotic tone of her long moans filling your bedroom, and you don’t register turning up the volume a bit more. Her hand speeds up a touch, you think she must have already been hard before recording because she clearly won’t last much longer, but instead of rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you find yourself hoping she’ll take off that dress and give you a real show. Kafka’s breathing becomes heavier, her moans less controlled, and from this angle, you notice the movement of her hips eager to meet each stroke along her cock. Her thumb swipes over her sensitive tip and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth at the pleasant sensation. Not a single word is uttered, you can’t hear anything in the background either— not that you were listening for it— it’s just the sinful sounds of her throaty hums and her fingers around her dick. Half a minute passes before her breath hitches in a sharp gasp, and you know she’s going to come right before she does. Your thighs squeeze together at the breathy moan that spills from her mouth, her hand still gently stroking herself. Her lips stretch into that teasing smile you can picture with your eyes closed, and the video ends. 

You’re harshly pulled from the daze you were in, staring at your phone. You don’t know what to think, she ignores you for a week then sends you a video of her masturbating at two in the morning with nothing else attached. You can’t deny that it had the desired effect on you; your body feels hotter under your sleeping clothes and your thighs are still pressed together to ignore the throb between them, but once again you attempt to figure out the reasoning behind what she does and come up empty. There’s no use in trying to pry open a steel safe that is sealed shut, so why do you try over and over like you have nothing better to do? Why show up with blowtorches and lock picks when your presence is unwanted inside?

Kafka uses you for pleasure, and you use her the same. That is the nature of your relationship. So, you decide to take that video at face value and press replay. Leaning back against the headboard, you bite your cheek as Kafka’s hand travels up and down her veiled cock while your own restlessly traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. It wanders up your body to cup one breast under your shirt, thumb softly circling a stiffening nipple. You pinch it between two fingers at the same time Kafka lets out a pretty moan and you feel arousal dampening your underwear at the various stimuli. The video ends before you can move on to your thighs and you have to replay it again, and again, to properly build up your orgasm before you’re needy enough to slip a hand under your sticky panties. Your middle finger applies pressure on your puffy clit in tight little circles, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and tightening your stomach.

Eyes half-lidded, you forget all about your work to prioritize the need in your cunt, unconsciously matching Kafka’s pace and wishing she was there to take care of you the way only she knows how. Your hips move with the fingers that rub between your wet folds in a messy pattern. You breathe in sharply through your mouth when one of them finds your clit again and firmly toys with it. You’re so aroused, so wet and needy, but watching Kafka’s playful performance through a phone screen with only half of her body shown and her cock hidden from sight isn’t enough. Desperation builds within your lower belly as you inch a finger past your entrance, barely biting back a breathy moan at the feeling. It sinks in effortlessly, so you add another after adjusting to the slight stretch of it rubbing your inner walls. Your other hand holds the phone closer to your face like that will make Kafka seem more tangible. You pump two digits into your pussy, coating them in your arousal, and it feels so good, has your thighs spreading further apart, but it’s not enough. 

A frustrated sigh leaves you. You don’t think before exiting the video and pressing the video call button. The line rings once, twice, and your fingers slip out of you as you wait to see if it’ll connect. After a few more seconds, you choose to save face and go to hang up just as it connects with the other line and Kafka’s smirking face comes into view. You blame the stutter of your chest on your arousal. She blows smoke through her mouth and faces away from the camera for a moment to put out the cigarette you caught her smoking. She’s in casual clothes once again, and by the lighting, you infer that it’s likely afternoon wherever she is. That video she sent must have been filmed earlier than the time it was received, it might also be an older one from before you met. You mistake your disappointment for annoyance. 

“What is wrong with you?” Your stern voice has a shaky edge to it that Kafka definitely notices. Her smile widens an inch. 

“You look a little… flushed. Saw something you like?”

“Fuck you. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is that how late it is there? Mmm, it slipped my mind.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” you put down the phone for an instant, pulling your pyjamas down your legs to toss them onto the bed. You bring the device back up and recline on the pillows, holding it high enough for Kafka to have a view of your torso and the stiff nipples poking through your half-ridden shirt. 

Kafka’s lowered gaze unapologetically trails down your upper body. You cup your breast, softly kneading the soft mound between your fingers, and watch her eyes darken with desire.

“I can’t come over.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. Just need to hear you.”

“Cute. What if I’m not alone?” Her tone is teasing but she does look up from the screen as if someone could walk by and catch you touching yourself. 

“Figure it out.”

“Bossy… And so aroused, aren’t you? From a simple video, no less.”

You let the confident drawl of her words wash over you, ignoring her attempts at riling you up further to focus on the familiar pitch of her voice. It’s rough, intentionally slowed to keep people’s attention solely on what she has to say and control the pace of the conversation, dripping like syrup. You relax into the mattress and let your hand wander down the valley of your breasts, caressing the curves of your stomach. You’re already turned on and aching for release, each brush of your fingertips against your skin requires restraint not to slip a hand between your thighs and circle your clit. Your little show seems to give Kafka a taste of her own medicine, she observes you for a while, her gaze piercing through the veil of lust over her irises. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would if you talked me through it,” you reply, expectant, lips parting as your hand teasingly disappears below the camera to massage the flesh of your inner thigh. 

Kafka hums, amused and intrigued. You’re sure she can tell how worked up you are and is debating helping you or leaving you wanting. Then she moves, the camera following her every step, and walks somewhere you hope is a secluded room. You don’t recognize her surroundings, she seems to be inside a building but the phone is too close to her face to show anything else properly.

“Did I wake you?” She asks on the way, barely looking away from the screen to watch where she’s going and instead focusing on how your hand travels back up your abdomen, lifting your shirt and revealing more of your chest as it goes. 

“No, but it was a welcomed distraction. Walk faster.”

Kafka laughs at your impatience, the sound lighter than her usual arrogant or mocking chuckles and betraying her genuine amusement. There’s a fluttering sensation behind the walls of your heart like the wings of a panicked bird. 

“Why? You in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

Kafka enters a room drowning in sunlight, brighter than wherever she was before. You hear the sound of the door closing, then a lock turning before she walks further into the room to sit at what you presume is a desk. The phone is placed far enough from her frame to allow you a full view of her upper body over the wooden surface and the twin-sized bed behind her. The covers are unruffled, the walls barren and white, and you think she might be in a simple hotel room. She leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. The index finger of her free hand absentmindedly taps the desk’s surface, mirroring her steady heartbeat. She gazes at you like you’re the most interesting sight she’s seen in days. 

“You look so needy… desperate for my touch.” Kafka drinks in the image of you sprawled on your bed, the lower half of your left breast exposed to her hungry eyes. Her mind conjures up many ways she would touch you if she were there, feeling your stumbling breaths in the crook of her neck. “What’s the matter? Can’t come without me anymore?”

Irritation swirls in your gut, mixing with the arousal pooling in your belly at her nonchalant arrogance. Her self-assurance infuriates you mostly because it’s not entirely unfounded; you do wish she was present in person to fuck your worries away but she could be on the other side of the planet for all you know, doing Aeons know what. You don’t have a retort, and you’re in no mood to be teased any more than you felt watching that short video of Kafka stroking herself. 

“It goes faster this way,” you lie.

“Mmm… Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Her words make your pussy throb. You bite your lip, adjusting your hold on the phone and lowering the camera so she can’t see past your mouth but has a better view of your body. From this angle, the waistband of your underwear is visible just under your stomach. Your fingers dig into your pliable breast, kneading the mound like she usually does to you, occasionally toying with the nipple for the pleasant sensation that ripples through you and causes your thighs to twitch. Kafka’s intense gaze, deeply pleased at your immediate compliance, excites you like nothing else. You know she’s not as unaffected by the sight as she seems to be, her finger drums on the desk a tad faster when you twist your nipple and part your lips to exhale audibly. Your hand leaves your chest and you lower your phone further to follow its path across your torso until it reaches the band of your already slick panties. You sneak a finger under the thin material and Kafka speaks up again.

“Take them off. Let me see you.”

Hesitation takes hold of you for a second, and then you obey her sultry command, shifting to pull the underwear past your hips and down to your ankles. You angle the phone to provide her with a clear view of your wet cunt, breath hitching as Kafka unconsciously wets her lips and the drumming noise stops completely. She’s a statue of desire on the other side of the screen, her heavy stare locked on your fingers spreading your lower lips apart, puffy clit on display. You don’t wait for any other instructions, your need is too great to go unchecked a minute longer; you use your index to circle the bud in quick, desperate motions. Your body’s temperature rises a few degrees and a short, involuntary moan spills past your lips. Your eyes are tempted to close under such stimulation but you want to see Kafka’s every microexpression, every twitch of her mouth and fall of her chest, the flex of her hand against her cheek and the movement of her irises following your ministrations.

“Are you picturing me? My hands on your body, touching you just how you like it?”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to seal another soft moan. “Yeah…” 

Kafka’s fingers are skilled and precise, stimulating the most sensitive parts of you, some of which didn’t exist before she touched you. She’s learned you by heart as one does a music sheet and makes you sing in a way impossible to replicate alone, an artist missing their accompaniment. You imagine her palms brushing across your chest, teasingly squeezing one breast while her lips ghost over the skin of your jaw, trailing wet kisses up to your cheek. You imagine her slender fingers sinking into your inner thighs to keep them spread before her, drinking in the erotic sight you create under her. You swipe at your clit, each breath heavier than the one before, and observe her body language; how she uncrosses her legs and her hand on the desk disappears beneath the surface, how she tucks away a stray strand of hair so it doesn’t obstruct her vision, the apparent lust in her eyes almost turning their color a shade closer to magenta. Her attention feels like the many cocktails you drank this last week, smoldering down your throat and intoxicating your every nerve. It tightens your lower belly and makes you throb, entrance gushing even when she’s likely thousands of miles away. Your orgasm builds and builds, pleasure steadily mounting and promising salvation the closer you get to the edge. 

If her camera was positioned better, you would have seen her pointer and middle fingers drawing circles on her thighs not unlike how you’re stimulating your aching clit, slowly inching higher until they softly stroke the prominent swell over her shorts. You would have been privy to them slipping under her clothes, past her boxers, to caress along her cock from tip to base and draw a sharp intake of breath from her. You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice her next swallow as she wraps a hand around herself and masturbates in tandem with your heavy exhales. Just as you did, she pictures your wandering hands, your warm tongue licking broad stripes up her cock and the quiver of your brow when you struggle to take her into your mouth. You look up at her prettily through wet eyelashes, eager to please, and you suck her dry as she paints your throat white. 

Your camera trembles, you struggle to keep it still while you work to make yourself come, digits stuttering on your clit with quiet moans on the tip of your tongue. You’re so close that you barely compute what Kafka is saying.

“You look about ready to come. Are you going to come just from the sight of me?”

She sounds way too pleased for your liking but you can’t bother to care at this moment, all that matters is your impending release. You nod quickly.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

“Fuck…” you manage to breathe out, hips desperately bucking into your hand, chasing relief from the pressure building in your belly. 

You don’t contain your pitiful sounds of pleasure at Kafka’s request and a soft cry rips from your throat as you finally burst. You come hard, thighs closing together and trapping your hand between them, jolts of pleasure running down your body like a thousand little shivers until you’re a shaking mess on the bed. Eyes screwed shut with the intensity of your orgasm, you miss Kafka’s parted lips and unyielding stare roaming over your arching form, her thumb applying mind-dizzying pressure on her leaking tip under her shorts to tease herself. You take a minute to calm yourself, she takes in the movement of your breasts rising and falling with your chest, imagining wetting them with her tongue so they glitter stunningly in the light when she pulls away. She strokes herself faster and the sound of her satisfied hum helps you realize what she’s doing.

“Hah… This is what you wanted, huh?” You bring your phone higher, circling your areola with two cum-coated fingertips and relishing in the way her eyelids droop. “Sending me that little video to tease me so I’d call and help you jerk off?” 

Kafka’s low chuckle turns into a pleased sigh at the end as she touches herself just right, smearing pre-cum all over her throbbing cock. 

“I wanna see.”

She picks up the camera and angles it so you have a view of her cock straining against her clothes. The silk of her glove is heaven along her skin, and with the microphone closer to her face you can hear the shallow breaths she releases on her journey to relief. No doubt the friction is dulling her mind, reducing her to her urgent need to come. Your tongue flicks over your upper lip and Kafka almost groans, still watching you intently like she’s making up scenarios of you on your knees with your head bobbing up and down her thick cock. The next time she takes you is already planned out in detail, you’ll be so utterly ruined that you won’t be able to beg her for more.

“I’d get you there quicker if you were here.”

“Mmh… Soon.”

You refrain from rolling her eyes at her obvious lie. Spoken words out of her lips mean nothing, especially with pleasure fogging her mind. Kafka’s following sharp gasp lets you know she’s close to falling apart; you lift your sticky fingers to your mouth, making a show of licking them clean how you would her shaft, and this time she doesn’t suppress the throaty, blissful noise that was sitting on her tongue. She sears your performance in the back of her eyelids and pumps her cock with purpose, orgasm imminent. Her hips jerk upward as her release crashes into her in toe-curling waves of pleasure, hand stuttering around her length and cum staining her underwear and glove. She moans unashamedly, knowing what it does to you, and her eyes flutter shut only for the instant it takes to compose herself afterwards. Her hand leaves her shorts, she brings her wet fingers to the light and smiles up at you. 

“Thanks.” Without any underlying cockiness, there’s nothing but appreciation when she addresses you. 

You don’t meet her gaze, averting your eyes while you sit up and smooth down your hair. Now that the tension in your muscles has dissipated, you’re reminded of why you were up this late in the first place and the work that still needs to be completed before work some hours later. You sigh tiredly, but your mind is clearer and you feel a spike of energy to finish your presentation, invigorated from your previous orgasm. Maybe you should be the one thanking her.

“What’s wrong?” 

You look back at Kafka. “I hate my job.”

“You should quit, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“…And do what?” You ask flatly.

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at her momentarily, wondering what kind of reality she must live in where everything is available for the taking. Your studies were largely influenced by the constant pressure your parents put on you to get a sustainable income, and you were too preoccupied with your grades to ponder the what-ifs. They sacrificed quite a bit to have you enroll in one of the Intelligentsia Guild’s schools, your academic success was the least you could do to settle that debt somehow. You don’t care for mechanics but it was a relatively easy subject to study, so you picked it. You’re good at what you do, despite this job not being what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life. Now, you’re not sure if you even have dreams. You have some skills, sure, but what do you want?

Kafka’s looking at you like she’s figuring you out. You don’t know what she aims to find but a childish part of you hope she likes it. You shake your head as if the thoughts would evaporate with the movement and stand from the bed.

“I should finish my work,” you say on the way to the bathroom, flicking the light open. 

“I need to go too.” Kafka pauses, seemingly considering something, then continues, “Do you have plans on Thursday?”

The question is unexpected, it takes you a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Apart from work, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You should stay home. Skip work.”

“Why would I do that…?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” The reply leaves you before you can think about it, but it’s the truth. Kafka has never given you any reason to trust her up till now, you don’t even believe half of the things she says. Trusting her for anything would be incredibly foolish.

Her eyes narrow a bit, though that small smile stays on her lips. Your confusion must show on your face, and you have the impression that her demeanor has gotten more serious. 

“Trust me now. I have to leave, but I hope you take my advice. If not… Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wh—?”

The video call disconnects. Did she just hang up on you?!

After a quick shower and a change of sheets, you end up completing your assignment in around 40 minutes and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to leave for work. The day is long, and your anxiety intensifies with each passing hour but you present your project idea with little to no problem. The rest of the week passes quickly with no further messages from Kafka, but you stop expecting her to hit you up for anything other than sex so you get better at hiding your disappointment, enough that you’re able to focus on your job like the development of the past two weeks never happened. On Thursday, you wake up for work and sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone open on the private conversation between you and Kafka, debating with yourself whether you should ask her to clarify her last words to you. You try to recall her expression when she said them. Reading her is hard, her behavior is too well-rehearsed to be peeled to pieces by anybody— and you guess that is what you are; anybody. You feel like an idiot as you dial your office to call off work. 

With nowhere to go, you spend the day at home watching shitty TV until the sky begins its descent in the sky, catching up on shows you previously had no time for. You do go out for groceries in the afternoon to cook something nice for yourself once dinner comes around, but your day is mostly boring and uneventful. You’re lying on the couch, half-lidded eyes barely focusing on the bright TV screen as it plays the same sitcom you’ve been watching for almost two hours when your phone rings. The noise wakes you, you blink rapidly and reach for the device, accepting the call without looking at the contact ID. 

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Himeko’s musical voice sounds from the other line. 

“Hime?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

You rub your eyes with a hand and sit up to pause your show. “No, not really. How’s trailblazing going?”

“It was kinda tough the last few weeks but nothing we couldn’t handle. What about you? Last time we talked you were pretty busy too.”

“I’m good, work has been a bit demanding lately because of this secret project thing I can’t really talk about, but nothing eventful has happened, except…” You cut yourself off. 

“What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh? Now I definitely want to know. Let me guess… It’s that lady again.”

“Lady?” You repeat with a laugh, “There is nothing ladylike about the way she f—”

“Ew. I get it.” You hear shuffling on the other side, like Himeko is walking from one place to another. “You were complaining about her last time, what happened now?”

“More complaints.”

“I can’t understand why you won’t end things if all you’re going to do is get annoyed every time you see each other. Learn to walk away from unnecessary grievances, they only pollute your thoughts.”

You stand from the couch and walk towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the stuff you’ll need for dinner. “The sex is really good. Like, great. Like, mind-blowing. Toe-curling, even.” You can almost hear Himeko’s eye roll. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know why she has to be so infuriating. It’s obviously a case of big ego, but there’s something more in there. She just won’t let me see it.”

“You’re practically strangers. No wonder.”

“She’s been inside me. I wouldn’t call us strangers.”

“Do you know anything about her apart from her name?”

You pause with one hand around a carton of heavy cream. A door slides shut on the phone. You don’t have to think long to know the answer to that question, but you’re a little ashamed of it. Ashamed and disappointed, because it’s not by lack of trying; Kafka treats every attempt at getting to know her beyond the bounds of your relationship like a battlefield where she has to lie to survive. There’s a constant distance between you no matter how physically close she gets and it’s beginning to drive you mad. It was hot at first, the air of mystery around her is what drew you to her in that clothing store. Months later, it’s simply an obstacle you can’t jump over.

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh, closing the fridge and putting the carton on the counter, “you have a point. But it’s not like I haven’t tried, she just…”

“Doesn’t value you for anything other than sex?”

You don’t respond, mouth curving in a frown. That hurt your feelings, even though you know Himeko is only being honest because she hates this situation for you. She disapproved from the start, said you weren’t the type to have no strings attached, and she was right. You didn’t listen; Kafka is a splash of excitement in an otherwise pretty boring life, unraveling her takes skill and effort, and it is much more gratifying than a research well done. However… perhaps it’s time you do.

“Was that too far?” Himeko asks, voice soft. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who brushes you off constantly unless they want something from you.”

“I know…” 

There’s a sudden knock at your door and you furrow your brows as you look at the time on your phone. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re not a fan of people showing up unannounced in general, still, you start making your way out of the kitchen to the front door. 

“We had an agreement, though,” you continue, “so it’s not like she owes me anything. I’m the one asking for too much.”

“You want to make connections with people and that is a beautiful thing. If she can’t see that, then she isn’t worth your time.”

You reach the front door, unlock it and turn the handle. “You’re probably r—”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue. In the hallway of your apartment building stands a panting Kafka, coat in one hand while the other is pressed hard against her bloodstained shoulder. Her white shirt is tainted with the seeping liquid which turns her glove a deep violet color, blood spatter over her torso and some spread onto her cheek as if she attempted to wipe it off. She’s hunched forward instead of her usual straight posture and the sunglasses over her tussled hair are cracked. You’re frozen where you are, a dozen thoughts buzz inside your head like restless bees and keep you from uttering a word; dread, worry, confusion, you can’t name them all. You have trouble computing what you’re looking at. Kafka looks up at you with the small smile she wears like armor. Even now, her nonchalance annoys you.

“Hey.”

The sound of Himeko calling your name over the phone and asking you if everything’s alright shakes you from your stupor. Your movements are slow, delayed, as you turn your head towards the device close to your ear and speak, “I’ll call you back.”

You hang up without hearing the response. 

[yotogibanashi]

Even if you forget them forever, they will remain by your side.

Caution: Hit-and-run accident, blood mentioned and amnesia. Please be aware of this and read my writing at your own risk if you decide to be stubborn (those who have issues related to the caution or having potential traumatized triggered I've detailed above). Pairing: Ellen Joe, Von Lycaon x gn!reader. Genre: Angst.

Part 1: You've promised.

Ellen Joe

Just a normal day. You, Ellen's significant other—just hanging out together on a day when she had the day off from school and work—agreed to spend time with you. A date, to be more specific. Perfect weather for a walk around the Sixth Street area.

Suddenly your steps stopped, causing the young woman next to you to raise her eyebrows, wondering why. You smile awkwardly and explain to her. "Ah, I almost forgot. Since we're here I'm actually want to return this back."

You take out and held up a DVD you rented from Random Play. The problem is, you two are almost far from the video store, but you decide to go alone and saying it would be quick—is what you promised to the thiren—earned a heavy sigh but she wouldn't mind waiting for you, knowing you've always the type of person to keep your promises paid no matter how trivial, important nor out of whim those promise is—even if you somehow failed them you still keep it. Even ridiculous one.

"Don't worry, I'll make this quick!"

Your words echoed in the young woman's mind. You've promised. So... why don't you come back? She has been waiting for you for five minutes. Feeling uneasy suddenly developing within Ellen. What's this? This is a mere Sixth Street and surely you're accidentally caught up helping people on your way to return back to her. Right?

No... maybe I'm just tired. Yes, she probably a bit restless due to classes and her part time job is getting busier recently is why she somewhat feeling uneasy all of the sudden. Her teeth fiddling with the lollipop—not in relaxing way but uneasiness.

In the end she started walking towards Random Play. Wondering what's taking so long for you for a mere returning back the DVD. However, she was greeted with unexpected sight—in this supposed lovely ordinary day of her date with you.

Among the murmuring of several people gathered, you, lying motionless in Belle's arms. Blood flowed out of your head—enough for Ellen's teeth crushed the lollipop with a crack and eyes widened when she saw you in such awful and unsightful condition—a condition where she's failed to be there with you in danger.

Belle was cradling you gingerly while Wise make an emergency call, seemingly without a doubt about the accident and seeking help. The former's eyes accidentally locked with Ellen's—for the first time, Belle saw with her very own eyes. A look that was crossing Ellen's features at that time is uncharacteristic of the usual laid-back shark-tailed girl.

Ellen leaned against one of the row chairs in an empty hallway along with the two siblings. A shadow casting upon her eyes making her expression taking a dark tone. Her mind kept remembering Belle's words—the bluenette mentioned it was a hit-and-run accident. Even Wise and other people nearby gathering the scene earlier confirmed in agreement at the same thing.

Ellen wasn't always this angry. She is always calm and falls asleep easily when there is a chance. This one dared to hit you and is not responsible for your unfortunate they've caused. Intentionally or not—running away is a clear answer as the daylight. Her fingers curled into fist in pent-up anger and resentment.

Belle and Wise can feel it radiant off from Ellen's very own being as they both exchanging concern glance in the background—aware this is a real bad knowing someone is on the shark-tailed girl's bad side and how care she is towards you despite the way she is. You're Ellen's, after all and she's yours. If that wasn't the case you two won't be together more than friends like you two did today.

The door opened and a doctor came out. Ellen quickly got up from her seat as soon as she heard the door opened. The doctor approached the three and told them about your condition.

"Their condition is fine and stable." The doctor assured them that. But a frown formed upon the doctor's features. As if contemplative something and was about to deliver a bad news, "unfortunately—they ended up having amnesia."

Belle gasped as she clasped her mouth with her hands in frightened shock, Wise frown in disbelief upon the news. Ellen—her heart almost sank and dropped to the ground. A hit-and-run accident is bad enough and now you get amnesia? Whoever the culprit behind this is definitely received two folds nightmare from her very own hands.

"Their head suffered a very strong blow on something hard or possibly fell badly earned a bad concussion as the results," the doctor added. "I'd suggest you three go easy on them. Patient is important. I'm sure they'll remember everything when you guide them." The doctor's advice before stepping aside with a gesture—allowing the three to heading inside and look at your condition.

Ellen felt her heart being squeezed hard. The sight of your resting state in daze and blank gaze staring the ceiling in confusion made her chest aches.

Part 1: Bloodstained.

Von Lycaon

As promised. You two spent your free time together on your day off from the job after preoccupied with each other's own responsibility—no work and no to anything related to the former. Just a lovely day for you two having a pleasant date.

Lycaon, being the gentleman he is—never failed to make you walk beside him while he is on the side of the road, open the door for you, pull out a chair for you to sit in. He was already a such attractive, werewolf thiren you've met combination his gentleman and romantic gestures only flattered your poor heart further as if falling in love again.

After filling your stomachs, you both went out and left the cafe with your hand on his arm as usual after he'd offered it second ago. You chatted happily and he listened with a small smile on his lips seeing you always happy regardless the situation. It was something he admires about you.

Suddenly you stopped, making him stop too. He turned to you, wondering why you stopped suddenly. "Is something wrong?" His eye watching your other hand rummaging inside your pocket closely.

"Ah... my key. Maybe I accidentally dropped it back in that cafe. Wait here, alright? I promise this will be quick!" You smiled awkwardly and didn't give him a chance to protest, you turned around and ran back to the cafe. Even though it was a bit far at this point because you two had already walked away from there.

Lycaon wish to after you but since you seem obviously insists it would be a quick one, he supposed he needs to wait like a devoted man he always be.

Time moves. Strange. It's been two minutes and you still haven't found your keys that you accidentally dropped in the cafe as you claimed? Lycaon narrowed his left eye when he saw that his pocket watch had already passed the time he had set around two minutes, waiting for your return.

Being the protective boyfriend he is—he walked back towards the cafe at a fast pace. Feeling of uneasiness begin developing within him and plague his thoughts. However, his major dreads became a reality. His left eye widened as he saw you collapsed on the road with blood on your head. People gathered around and some made an emergency call.

In a few moments he was by your side who collapsed and did not move. His strong arms lifting your limp and injured form with care and unwavering gentleness he'd reserve for you all the time he's always by your side. The thiren's trying to stay calm but his composure is shattered upon seeing you like this. So fragile like a glass that'll easily shattered with a mere poke.

This feeling is suffocating. He never this helpless before—he always be there and protect you, made sure no stains nor mere scratch ruined your pristine features, not even the slightest of them to be acceptable. But this time luck wasn't on his or your side. Your head is bleeding... Lycaon doesn't even care if he gets your blood stained his own fabrics even though he always takes care of his appearance. He couldn't afford to see those priority in this moment—you are more important than some blood stains. You're hurt. His significant other.

The thiren was sitting one of the row chairs in an empty hallway, his mind busy with the residents' comments about your accident earlier when he overheard the witness mentioned it was a hit-and-run accident. That alone enough to flared up his rage despite doing whatever he can do to keep his cool.

No one can blame him. He has the right to be this enrage even though it was a pent-up one. He definitely for sure after whoever this culprit to make them pay for caused you the pain you caught up upon yourself.

The door opened and a doctor came out and approached him. Lycaon was quick lifted his weight off his seat to his feet and expecting for the doctor's words about your condition.

"Don't fret," The doctor reassured him, "their condition is stable now."

The doctor paused. As if contemplative something and it didn't take a genius the doctor was about to deliver those "but" stuff. "However, they suffer from amnesia. The impact from the accident made their head hit hard against the ground and regain a hard concussion."

That news made Lycaon's heart almost sank immediately the moment the doctor's mentioning you've suffered from amnesia. The doctor somehow easily noticed the tension from him and the way he clenched his jaw.

The doctor smile empathetically. "I'm sure that—if you guide them patiently, they'll remember everything." The doctor stepping aside and give the thiren space to go heading inside where you're waiting on the bed in daze and confusion lingered in your dull eyes—like a lost soul.

The sight enough to make his heart sank completely to the ground.

Postscript: This is my very first writing and I do hope this story somewhat satisfied all of you. I'm not really expert about medical field, however. I'm just using logical and information through Google about the possibility amnesia caused. Please criticize me if my writing is not accurate to characters characteristics, the grammar or my words isn't beautiful enough to read. I'm sure it might help me improving my writing better. I'm not really a romantic person about love—but still write this anyway. Haha... what do I have to do for the part two!? I almost losing my idea already for this one!

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Interference vs Difference

|PT1| |PT2|

JJK / Reader

{After being isekaied into Jujutsu Kaisen, you expected to be winthin the main storyline. Instead... You're in the past!? Far past...}

-

Not even caring on which horse you placed your hard earned money on, you run after the tall male.

"Train me!"

You shout excitedly, stepping closer to the bigger male.

The older man blinks at you, taken aback by your strange approach.

"Hah..?"

He smirks at you, leaning close.

" "Train you"..? Pfft-"

The, "Sorcerer Killer", laughed in your face.

Undetered, you hold up your arms, flexing them to your best abilty. "See! I'm strong!"

The elder Fushiguro sighs at your oddness, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm not training some Sorcerer brat who doesn't even look qualified to be one." Toji rolled his eyes at you, walking away further down the row of seats in the stadium.

Unwavering, you follow close behind like a duckling.

Ticked off at your presence, he sneared at you. "Quit while your ahead, I'd rather not kill some stupid girl on my day off."

"No, I wanna' be trained by you!" You sqwaked again, undetered stomping closer.

Toji laughed bitterly, taking a seat, glancing at the track. "Why's that?" He mocked, disinterested.

"Because I... I want to change the future." You state, straightening up to look more assured than you felt.

"And you think seeking me out is gonna' fix that?" Toji scowled.

"Yes!"

He laughed once again, but it wasn't as light-hearted. Tense as he sees the horses race down the track. Seeing the horse you choose cross the finish line...

"I..." You gape at the results as Toji frowns, cussing angerily.

-

Your... Mentor lazily chides your stance as you throw a fist at the air. While he was laying on his back, flipping through a magazine you gave to Tsumiki during your arrival. Not even bothering to take notice of your struggle. "Hup!" You raise your leg, losing balance and falling back. Groaning in pain, muscles tense at your horrible work out

While Tsumiki and Megumi watch on quietly. You sigh, grumbling at yourself for not doing the stance right. Sitting up to try again, not giving up.

Tsumiki pouts at Toji's laziness, choosing to go next to you and follow your actions. Megumi slowly going after her.

The elder Fushiguro eyes the three of you and smiles.

"Okay, move your foot to the side. Make sure you have enough space and kick."

He sits up, placing down the magazine as he gets up to show all three of you.

You gaze in awe at the strength, wishing you were just as much a power-house!

-

"Eh! What do you mean Shoko?" Gojo asks the brunette as she shrugs. "Hm, dunno'. I saw her talking with this older guy the other day. Seemed fine to me..."

Haibara nods along to Shoko, while Nanami rolled his eyes at the gossip.

"That doesn't sound "fine"..." Geto mumbles thoughtfully as his friend pouts. "There's no way, an oblivious-idiot like that doesn't even know what dating means!" Gojo yells out.

"And you do..?"

"Course'!"

"No one said anything about her dating.." Shoko sighs. Feeling slightly bad for her teacher.

"Maybe he's a family member or something!" Haibara puts in his own two cents.

"No, now it's time for drastic measures!" The white haired male slams his hands down on the desk.

"Gojo..." Yaga grits out, who had been reading out the missions for the day before being interupted "Pay attention!"

-

Getting ready to leave since your mission was over, you proudly glance at your hands. Less calloused, more firm. Your hard work was paying off! You should bring some pizza to the Fushiguro household to celebrate..

Nodding at the idea, you start calling in the order as you wait.

Pausing, you sensed someone close by...

Turning around quickly, you blink at the saphire eyes gazing at you in bewilderment.

"Ah.. Gojo, Hi!" You smile at him kindly. "What are you doing here? I thought I asked Yaga to give you guys the off day.." You mumble, hoping Yaga didn't lie when you asked him earlier that day.

"Oh, that... Yaga sent us out here incase you got into any trouble Teach'!"

"Hm? "Us" ?" You quickly turn your head side to side, not finding any other student.

"Yup!" "Mhm."

"Hm?" Turning around, you noticed a politely smiling Geto and a unimpressed Shoko. Who looked like she was dragged with them unwillingly.

"Woah..!" You mumble, realizing you needed more training. Along with recognizing foot-step patterns. You'd have to ask Toji about it...

Wait.. Speaking of!

"Well, I'm okay. No worries, I was just heading out anyway."

"Hm? Where too?"

Geto asks, smiling too sweetly.

"To pick up a pizza." You grin, merry at the idea.

Gojo and Geto grin viciously. "Oh? I'm a bit hungry anyway, so lets join you!" Satoru smirks, his sunglasses gleaming as Geto agreed.

Shoko takes out her pack of cigs', shrugging. "Where too?" She smiles too sweetly.

-

"Is.. This where (L/N) sensei lives..?" Gojo mumbles, kicking a stray can as Geto nudged him, glaring. "Satoru-"

Going up to the doorsteps, you knock on the door. As your students watch curiously from behind you.

A big, bulking figure stood in the doorway. A frown on his scared lip as glares at you, but you smile. Holding up the pizza like an offering.

Shoko chokes on her cigerette as Getos eyes widen, Gojo's body rigid, as trio of students tense up.

Toji sighed, yet directs the glare at your compainons.

"Who are they?"

"Oh-! These are my wonderful students!" You shrug, not seeing how BAD this was..

"Well.. Half of them!" You grin at Toji, beaming.

"They wanted to join for pizza! I bought three!"

"Yeah, I can see that." Side-eyeing the frozen students behind you, he placed his fingers on his temple.

"Augh... Stupid hang-over headache.. C'mon in." He relents, side-steping away. "Tsumiki! Megumi! (Y/N)'s here!" He hollered, not moving out of the way fully.

You pause, handing the elder male the boxes and turn to your students.

"Please be polite in Mister Fushiguros home, or I'll kick you out!" You pout, laughing it off. "He's super nice and I don't want you guys to tell embarrassing misson stories about me.." You rub your neck shyly, before herding them inside.

Settling down at the table, you hand out slices as you converse with Tsumiki about school, occasionally asking Megumi as he only nods.

The table was way too quiet...

"(L/N) sensei...?"

"Hm?" You pause, lowering your slice. Shoko sweats slightly, "C.. Can I have some water?"

"Of course! I'll be right back, I bring some drinks for everyone." Getting up, you head to the kitchen. Leaving your students to fend for themselves in the presence of your... Friend?

The trio quietly gaze at their plates, quietly agreeing. This was possibly a mistake on their part.

"U-uhm.." Tsumiki softly pipes up, drawing everyones attention. "I.. I really like your hair, miss Shoko."

Blinking, the brunette eyes the smaller girl, smiling politely. "Thank you, I.. Your hair pins are very pretty."

"Ah! M- I mean, (Y/N) got them for me!"

The suffocating air becomes less dense, letting up with the bits of small talk and you stumbling back with a pitcher of water and balancing cups.

-

"So.. You care for them?" Toji states. Idly standing beside you as he watched you put away the dishes.

Bubbles of laughter heard in living room as you saw a small ghost of a smile on Toji's face at the warm atmosphere.

"Yep!"

"... Huh." Toji sighs at your carefree nature. Though, he trusted you.. Sorta. You were his... Mentiee? Protogè would be pushing it. You were always lingering near by, bombarding into his life without any grace or lack of security. Always facing ahead, only looking back when you noticed he was nowhere to be found.

"You know, Mr. Fushiguro... Have you ever thought.. I dunno.. Maybe, teaching? At Jujutsu High? I mean, you'll be paid, and there's dorms. And Megumi can learn more about his skill set, then Tsukimi can learn more about curse energy if she'd want?" You offer up, tone akward, worrisome.

It disturbed him slightly, having been used to your constant whining to train and up-beat smiles.

You were serious.

Toji mulled it over, it wasn't a bad idea per-say... But-

"Hm.." He shrugged, playing it off.

Toji wasn't borned with cursed-energy. He was sure you knew that simple fact, even still. You treated him as if he was just fellow sorrcer or friend. It boggeld his mind to no end, you weren't the "high-and-mighty" type to care. He knew that, there was this strangeness of your presence, pesent to a fault.

Seeing his lack of response, biting the inside of your cheek in worry. You grip his sweater sleeve, gazing down at your shoes.

"Please... Please think about it." You begged quietly.

Blinking at the action, his brows furrow. He didn't understand where this was coming from. Yet... He pitied you, you weren't a Gojo Heir, Zenin'in or Kamo. Just some girl who appeared and declared she wanted to get stronger.

All for the sole reason of, "changing the future". He had to admit, he was curious of your mind-set. A pathetic pursit to higher-ups, maybe even to your own students. Even he doubted your optomistic view. Though, you wouldn't back down, clearly stuborn pride, he assumed.

Letting go, you smile reassuringly. "But I won't force you! Promise. Scouts honor!" You quickly place a hand on your chest, as he scoffed at you. While you happily grab some treats from the freezer. Pulling him along to the living room.

-

[Thanks for reading, reading, fanart, comments, likes and such are welcomed! If you have any ideas for this Au, I'd be happy to listen!]

[porcelainseashore]

Summer Solstice - Beach Episode by Night

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: My “drabble” (inspired by a music ask) for the lovely @beach-episode-by-night event. A heartfelt thank you to @mortifying-macaroni and @alibellerosetta whom I dedicate this piece to. Your encouragement made it possible.

Along the I-10 highway to Tucson, Wynter takes a detour toward the coastline on impulse, chasing the memory of a bygone summer’s day.

Content Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, references to murder, wraith, pre-canon, weird uncle/niece relationship, blame it on the Giovanni.

How long has it been?

The chime sounded as she left the car door open with her keys in the ignition, monotonous, comforting yet cajoling her to do something about it. It didn’t matter; hers was the lone automobile on the desolate street. If someone wanted this piece of junk, they’d earn the right by swiping it off her hands behind her back.

In the tepid late October air, Wynter had taken a detour off the I-10 toward the Gulf Coast on a whim, with the windows rolled down because the air conditioner wasn’t working—it never did. Closer to the basin, the smell of brine from the Atlantic hit her tenfold. She had been swimming in her thoughts, her reflexes on autopilot, as if she remembered the route by heart. That was the question, what did she remember? Why had she come here, when she had spent the last two decades running off and reinventing herself, just like her estranged sire, Violetta, taught her to?

Instead of answering, she faced away from the wind, lashes downturned and fluttering, as she cupped her hand over her mouth, lighting up a cigarette and ignoring the faint protests of her Beast. The wind was still as violent as she’d left it. Heeled boots crunched into gravel, which finally opened out to soft mounds of sand. She wasn’t in a hurry; she had time to kill, even with her battered, old Honda that was on its last legs. 

The Prince could wait. 

What was a couple of USB sticks that he desired good for? They lay stuffed and suffocated in her worn-down satchel—one she’d found while rummaging through the trash—with its straps chewed and frayed at the ends. Maybe just enough for emergency repairs and a meal or two, if she was lucky.

From afar, she could make out the salt-stripped cafes, gaudy tiki bars with their balding straw roofs, and a row of little wooden clapboard houses, paint-chipped and peeling, along the boardwalk. Weather-beaten “For sale” and “We’re closed!” signs hung awkwardly from the establishments, some on their last nail, swaying to and fro, creaking in the breeze. Her gaze trailed over the tired beach chairs, deflated pool toys, and broken surfboards. A smattering of them had found their way across the divide, acting like driftwood in the sea.

The sound of children’s giggles and bare feet pattering on the floorboards echoed in the distance. She gripped her bag tight, but did not look back. Her shoes were sinking into the wet sand now, and the air carried warm moisture which settled beneath the layer of clothes onto her skin. Her very own form of sweat.

The moon illuminated her path, but at the edge of the ocean, she was at a loss for what to do. Why was she here? What had called her? How—

“Wynter,” it whispered, balmy in the zephyr. “Why don’t you come out to play?”

She shielded her eyes, as though blinded by the brilliant sun, peering out into the vast space before her. And there he was, clear as day, in his light blue shorts and a roseate burn creeping through his tanned back, wading toward her in the water. Earlier, she had been sulking under the beach umbrella while her mother flipped through a magazine and her father chatted jovially with other men over rounds of drinks at the bar.

The wind was howling. Fine, white sand swirled in the current. She didn’t like how hot it got under her feet. Everything hurt. But for Lucien, she would bear through it all. His smile ached as she splashed into the water, salt clinging to her lips and foam gathering in the tendrils of her hair. She took a deep breath and dived, dipping under the waves of the high tide. A strong pair of arms entangled around her waist as she was drawn out of the sea, and she wriggled to break free of their grasp while her uncle chuckled. And soon, she was laughing too.

“My very own mermaid,” he murmured. 

Wynter bared her teeth and hissed, “But I will drown you and taste your flesh.”

He touched her chin, smiling sadly. “Well, it would be worth it, to me.”

She didn’t think anything of it then, bounding out of Lucien’s embrace and paddling through the waters. That day, under the cloudless sky and the sun’s rays glittering beyond the horizon, she felt how magnificent it was to be alive. Glancing over at Lucien, she paused, meeting his eyes, shifting azure blue, watching the droplets trickle down his brow. The waves crashed on shore. Seagulls crooned overhead. Time whiled away in silence. Their eyes searching for a morsel they could hold on to. Years of an unspoken bond buried in a look. He believed in it then, how pure and indescribable it was. And the curve of his mouth reflected hers.

For all the trials he would be put through, he’d gladly suffer, even if there was no end in sight. She waded closer to him, the water now reaching waist-high. But it was murky. Her cigarette butt had gone out, leaving traces of the woody scent of dark tobacco in the air, but even that too was fading. Instead of the heat of the sun beating down her back, she encountered the cool, umbral glow of the moon, iridescent on her bloodless skin. She wanted it to burn her alive.

Her Beast recoiled at the mere thought of seeing the light of day, but Wynter entertained it for a moment longer, savoring the fear, the way the light extinguished in someone’s eyes before they expired.

“Let me drown with you,” she prayed, the flicker of an unearthly sheen present in her eyes.

In her peripheral vision, a shadow flitted between the steel scaffolding of the once-grandiose pier, now in a state of irreversible decay, rusting to the elements. She remembered standing there as a child, sick from cotton candy, and the noise of the fairground rides flooding her ears. A postcard marred with heavy creases—one of the many within the bundle she had stashed in her glove compartment. She held it out in front of the pier, shutting one eye and squinting, then doing the same with the other. 

Every year, she received a blank card, the address scribbled in handwriting she didn’t recognize. Regardless of whether she stayed at a temporary residence or relied on throwaway collection points dotted across the country, they arrived without fail. “Wish you were here’s” by the ghost of a loved one on perpetual vacation. Places she had been to. Places she had dreamed of. This time, a picturesque painting of the old pier at dawn. 

It could have been a trap, but she found it strangely comforting, knowing she had a place to come back to, observing the swell and receding waves until she would be nothing more than ashes floating on the surface at the break of day. Kindred talked about death as if it were so final, but to her, death was only the beginning. A concrete structure on the pier groaned, loosening from its bolt before collapsing into the sea. The sound and vibrations were tremendous, but Wynter didn’t flinch.

How long could she drag this out? How much more could she keep on going?

For a while, she had been aware of a presence watching her, but made no sign to acknowledge its existence. It was tempting to seek it out, as was the habit of being a hunter, but she decided otherwise. The Shroud was thin here. Mortals had long since abandoned this place. Yet some remained. 

There was a deep rooted tingle in her spine. She had overstayed her welcome; she should leave, but not before—

The postcard slipped from her fingers, drifting in the stream until she lost sight of it. A featherlight kiss on the nape of her neck. She shuddered again and closed her eyes. When they opened, she checked the time on her cracked iPhone screen. 

Without a word, she followed her tracks back to her awaiting car, the chime still ringing incessantly. She hopped in and drove off, leaving whatever had happened that day behind. 

The Prince of Tucson couldn’t wait any longer.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[sinofwriting]

Distraction - Callum Ilott

Words: 1,051 Summary: Callum comes home to surprise his wife only to get surprised himself. Note(s)/Warning(s): Implied/Referenced struggles with infertility/getting pregnant. And Happy 25th Birthday to Callum! I barely wrote this in time

Masterlist | Support Me!

She was alone in their flat, alone again for the eighth night in a row and she wished it was because her and Callum were fighting and had left the honeymoon phase that they’re parents had warned them would end after they got married. But she was alone because being the new driver in the team meant more testing, more unexpected testing, and he wanted them to know that he would be an asset to them, that they wouldn’t regret picking him to fill their seat. And she had at first had wanted that as well, she was fine with him not coming home with her after the race for a day or two of development and sim work, then three, then four, but now it had been over a week. Over a week since they had slept next to each other, since she had gotten to see him with her own eyes and not on her phone screen.

Their flat felt a little empty without him there. Usually she could easily ignore it, she had work to occupy her. She knew when she’d next see him. Whether because she was flying to join him somewhere or because he was coming home.

Fishing her phone out of the hoodie pocket she’s wearing, she opens her texts and looks at Callum’s response to her asking when he’d be coming home or if he knew when, and the answer unchanged from when she first read it; no idea.

Her thumb hovers over his name, ready to press it and then call him, but she pockets it again and moves to her laptop. She was all caught up on work, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take a new client to distract herself not just from missing Callum but also the positive pregnancy test that sits on their bathroom counter.

—

Callum could honestly say that he’d been fed up with doing development and sim work after the third day of doing it non-stop, but him and his teammate had agreed that if he took the brunt of the work right now, he’d take the brunt of it the next time, in a few months. It also meant that Callum had earned himself a nice week's worth of no work, other than a small over the phone interview he had to do for a site or magazine or something, he wasn’t too sure.

Looking at his texts, he smiles at the silly picture his wife had sent him in the morning after she had first woken up and then frowns seeing that she hadn’t responded to his text telling her he didn’t know he’d be coming home. Which as the uber slowed to stop in front of their building was a lie, but he hoped that she’d appreciate being surprised rather be angry at him for not telling her.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he steps foot into their flat, shutting the door behind him. Lifting his suitcase, he carefully presses up against the wall by the closet that has the washer and dryer.

He frowns at how quiet it is, the tv isn’t on. He can’t hear anything but the hum of the refrigerator running. His eyes then catch on the time displayed on the oven and a small ah leaves him. This was prime working time for her and she was always wired in, with her headphones on. Which meant he had enough time to go to the bathroom before he wrapped himself around her and not let go for at least two days.

Taking care of business quickly, he pauses before drying his hands, staring at the weird thing on the counter as his hands drip water onto the floor. It's something like muscle memory that has his hands touching the towel, drying them off as he looks at whatever is on the counter.

It looked a bit like one of those fake drug test things that Marcus had once bought that would show positive no matter what just to freak his trainer out. It also really looked like a pregnancy test and he’s bending slightly, squinting to read the tiny screen.

—

She jumps as her headphones are being taken off her ears and her laptop is gently shut.

“Callum.” She groans, before it hits her that’s he home and she’s scrambling to stand up, throwing her arms around him. “Callum!” His arms are gentle around her. “Fuck, I missed you.” She mumbles into his shoulder. “I missed you as well.” She steps away from him, easily out of his arms, frown growing as she sees his face. Her happy mood was gone just from hearing his voice. “What happened? You sound weird.” Callum’s eyes darted around the room before settling on her. “I saw the test on the counter.” One of her hands immediately rests on her stomach. “Oh.” “Oh.” He echoes.

He breaks the quiet that had surrounded them. “You didn’t say anything.” She shakes her head, “I only took it a few hours ago. Are you upset?” “No.” He immediately shakes his head and a sigh of relief leaves her. She hadn’t thought so, not after the last few months. “I just, I was planning on surprising you and got surprised myself.” He laughs before smiling at her. “I’m happy about it, really. Just wasn’t expecting it.” “I wasn’t either. I only took it because my period was late.”

“Are you happy?” He asks her, pulling her back into his arms, though still gentle and now she knows it because he knows she’s pregnant, unwilling to hold her too tight incase it hurts the baby. “I am.” She whispers and she can feel tears in her eyes as finally lets herself think about it. “I’m really happy.” “Oh, darling.” He whispers, rubbing her back. “I thought it was going to be negative again, I really thought.” “I should have told you I was coming home, so you didn’t take it alone. I just wanted to surprise you.” He tells her, feeling a bit angry that he had lied and told her he didn’t know when he’d be home, when he was already on a plane to her. “It’s okay.” She soothes, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I liked my surprise.” “I quite liked mine as well.”

@skepvids @bibliosaurous @benstormy @boiohboii @iloveyou3000morgan @lpab @gemofthenight @topguncultleader @peachiicherries @copper-boom

[faegoddessog]

18: Oil, motors and planes

Ok loves, I've decided to try something to stretch myself creatively with this challenge. I'm gonna dribble my drabble and see if I can tie each theme into an actual story that I'll write day by day! We'll see how it goes! Wish me luck!

Here is my ongoing masterlist of this project.

My other works are here if you are interested!

Check out the fun challenge here by @slowsweetlove . Feel free to jump in too!

18: Oil, motors and planes

You walked, hand in hand, to the cafe where you are to meet up with Callum. Austin opens the door for you and places his hand on your back, guiding you  as you walk in. Callum is there, the two hug and  are all smiles. Austin introduces you.

“You must be someone special for Austin to bring you along,” Callum says, shaking your hand. 

“We just used to work together like ten years ago here in New York, and we just happened to run into one another at the farmer’s market,” you smile and shrug. Callum slips Austin a knowing smile. 

You all order and you sit back and listen as the boys talk about what they’ve done recently. Callum talks about how he just  wrapped a film about a 1930’s rowing team. 

“I thought you looked bulked up, I assume you actually rowed?” comments Austin. 

“Yeah, it was brutal,” Callum says, ” You look like you are getting ripped too. What have you been up to?”

“I’m training for these two films coming up back to back. One is a villain and I need to be built and intimidating, the other is about a 60’s bike club.”

“What like motorbikes” Callum asks, his Londoner accent distinct. 

“Yeah, vintage Harleys, Choppers. Like motor oil under your nails kinda stuff,” Austin says enthusiastically, “I’m out riding all the time in L.A. with a guy. Open road and a sense of freedom and the outdoors. It's a total adrenaline rush.

“A little different than bomber training then,” laughs Callum. 

“Bomber training?” you ask as Austin nods.

“Yeah for our WWII series we filmed, we had to learn how to fly B-17s all shoved into a cockpit for hours,” Callum explains. 

“Like for real? You flew them? Are there many left?” you ask, intrigued.

“There was I think one or two on set that could still fly. But no we didn’t actually fly them,” Austin explains, “though I felt like I could by the time we were done.” 

They go on to explain the volume with its gimbal-mounted cockpit and surround screens. 

They talk about their time together in London. Sunday dinners with someone named Ruthie. “She was like our mom over there,” Austin says.

“Yeah and you earned all those brownie points by showing up early to help her cook,”  replies Callum. 

“Hey, I like to cook and she taught me a lot,” Austin smiles, “she still texts me almost every day.”

“Do you actually text her back?” Callum teases as Austin looks down sheepishly.

credit to @saradika for the graphic!

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged by you before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

[polyamarhousgarden]

Howdy Marh ♡!!

Wanted to ask:

What is a scene you think about when you think about falling in love again with Mordecai?? I'd love to hear about it :D

Tex @tex-treasures

"How can I trust you to stay?" "I never truly left...not with you still there."

So when Atlas May was killed and Mordecai left, he and Remedios had a big fight (to be fair, kneecapping your friend slash colleague, Viktor would of course lead to a very furious situationship confronting you about it) which led to the end of whatever affections and situationship was growing between them.

Prior to this, Mordecai and Remedios grew close while Remedios was working at the Little Daisy cafe, and she would always serve him his coffee/tea the way he liked it. She celebrated his birthday the day she learned the date by surprising him with a banana bread loaf she baked at her little apartment, and though he wasn't big on it, he ended up accepting it.

Mordecai shared small holiday traditions with Remedios despite their different upbringings. Though he would never admit it, Mordecai hunted down someone capable of making parols for him to present to her as a decor she could add to the Little Daisy.

He taught her ice skating.

She didn't begrudge his almost offensive bluntness.

So when Mordecai left to join Marigold, it was a huge betrayal. That betrayal turned to anger when Mordecai urged her to abandon Lackadaisy, as if her bond with Mitzi would become nothing now that her husband was gone. Hurtful words and accusations were exchanged, and by the time the row ended, the two had said some words they couldn't take back.

Thing is, there's still some feelings from Mordecai's end. In their time apart, while Remedios did eventually stop working at Lackadaisy, she managed to open a used bookstore and some of her earnings go to help Lackadaisy no matter how small.

And every now and again, when he's sure Remedios isn't present but the little shop assistant she hired was handling the shop, Mordecai would go in and ask for any book that Remedios may have touched or read through.

After all, the memory of her reading the Snow Queen to him never left his mind.

Enter when Rocky antagonised certain pig farmers that attacked Lackadaisy the same day Mordecai cleaned out their armoury.

Yeah, finding out that Remedios was hurt in the gunfight through Mitzi was enough for him to run back to her and have her be treated by a doctor. During their recovery period, he tended to them and took care of them in between his job as Marigold's triggerman.

At first Remedios was wary because of their last interaction but we have Mordecai acting as normally as one could expect from him. Sure there's a couple more blowups between the two, especially on Remedios' end with Mordecai giving back as good as she gave. But at some point, the truth comes out on why they said what they said.

Mordecai feared for her life now with Atlas gone.

Remedios felt betrayed by him and didn't want to lose the only family she has left.

The truth coming out was the first step to falling for Mordecai all over again. The next moment was when she saw her copy of the fairytales of Hans Christian Andersen that she gifted to him tucked away in his bookshelf. The night she found it she asked him to indulge her and to read her the Snow Queen as she slept.

Despite his grousing, Mordecai did as she requested.

[yohohonabottle]

Esperia free hugs tour (Reposted from A03)

🖋️Summary: Merlin and her stand-in get into an argument at the Mystical House. The mage is still mad at Sinbad for having been tricked and almost getting killed trice...*allegedly.* Even though it was the substitute who was mostly at risk. Said stand-in calls out the Magister on the massive L's which leads to a cat-fight and the mage to cast a special type of hex, because pettiness, and then kicks the guy out. Yup, just your typical run-of-the-mill afternoon with a whimsical boss. 📖Work status: Completed, oneshot

🎧 Song reccomendations while reading: ============×=========×==========——————— ● Holistone: Dawn Winery theme/Mondstad theme ● Dark Forest: Winding through Avidya/ Nahida's aranara theme * Interlude: Pink Panther theme/The elevator - Kevin Macleod ● Remnant Peak: The vikings have their tea/Sticks and stones from httyd ● Ashen Wastes: Arabic merchants/Scorching outpost ● Rustport: Cutthroat crew/ Hymn of the high seas and Sinbad's song. Don't know why most are from Genshin, but oh well.

—"I'm taking over! You're too lenient!" –A clear mezzo-soprano barks crossly, earning a soft irritable sigh followed up by a few seconds ticking by in tense silence. 

—"Woman, you were fine with leaving me be all this time! So what's with the sudden hands-on approach?" –A low and eerily breathless tenor hisses back sharply in mild vexation as a door upstairs slams and hurried footsteps echo down the flight of stairs, followed by a set of much lighter ones. Soon a woman with chocolate-brown long flowing hair dressed in a long blue vest with checkered puffy sleeves shows up, her cape billowing behind her back. 

—"Good afternoon, Dolly!" She slides down the stairs' railing halfway down then hops off and grins up at the young woman standing behind the bar-counter in the lounge. The assistant– a green-eyed redhead named Dolly–waves back happily with a warm smile, chirping a cheery "Good afternoon, Magister Merlin!" with her sweet fruity voice, pausing her work of wiping down the counter with a rag to polish it. Hopping onto one of the high barstools, Merlin runs a gloved hand through her hair, pushing her bangs behind her ear, tone adopting a more sing-song lilt. 

"One cup of extra honeyed peppermint tea, please. Add a slice of syrup caramel cake, too while at it--Thanks Dolls!" With a nod, the freckled maid sets to work. Meanwhile, the other catches up, not letting the matter go. 

—"Ooh no. You–miss, mister, whatever–Are going to explain. No weaseling out!" 

—"He simply can't be trusted at all, alright? He's a scummy, no-good liar, who only cares about swindling people. Period." –The doe-eyed petite woman huffs with a miffed scoff, one hand on her hip before turning back to her slice of cake and taking a swing of her tea, muttering sourly under her breath– "I let him off easy, should've given him a good round of beating. Maybe I'll throw him into the sea next time. That punk." 

—"Don't tell me you haven't been set up or kept in the dark before." Pouting at those words in discontent, Merlin pointedly ignores the bat and takes another bite of her cake with a muffled 'Mmhm.' then swallows it down with a big gulp of tea. "...Merlin, come on. You seriously can't be pissy about this forever. You're being needlessly petty. Just let it go already." 

Setting her porcelain cup and fork down, the woman snaps her head to give him a pointed glare over her shoulder as she pushes off from her seat. The two little hamsters, having arrived just a minute ago and settled by the counter, look up when their owner's voice rises an octave. 

—"That man got me killed–almost–three times in a row! And not only that, but he had the nerve to not compensate us! You saw it all!" 

It's one of those days again, where seeing eye to eye with the great, legendary mage appears to be mission impossible. Pirin stands with arms crossed over his chest, back leaned on the wall next to the bar counter, watching the brunette pace as if bored. Meanwhile the assistant, Dolly, quietly shuffles behind the counter, eying the two of them uneasily. In the span of half a week, such arguments became commonplace between the owner of the Mystical House and her disgruntled new 'helper'. 

Inhaling a deep breath with a slow roll of his eyes, he smoothly sits down on one of the stools. A glass of iced water is slid on the counter gently and the mercenary swipes it off nimbly, the water sloshing but never spilling, taking a measured sip. 

—"You're speaking as if you were the one at risk. When, let's be real here, you can't get harmed or loose in any way." –He deadpans with an arched owl-like brow, unamused. This gets the mage's attention and she halts in her winded tirade to look at him mildly scandalized and bemused. Setting the glass back on the countertop, the snowy-haired lad rests an elbow on it, continuing in a flat tone. —"You know what I mean, don't give me this look. It was me who was, is, in danger most of the time. You‐" He lifts a gloved hand and gestures to her loosely then lets it fall on his knee. "are here, in the cozy confines of your spire. Away from trouble." 

—"I–" -The fair-skinned lass opens her mouth to refute, but falters and presses her lips into a thin line of frustration instead, and frowns. Her companion mutely watches her for a long moment before speaking in a quieted voice, firm but not ill-mannered. 

—"Furthermore if I recall correctly—it was you who called out and brought me to this world then proceeded to offer me the deal. You stay behind in the Mythic House to take care of 'other important matters' while I play your substitute, in exchange you'll help me find a way out once the journey's done. ...Am I wrong?" 

—"No. You're not." Her squared shoulders slump sharply, gripping her forearm with a gloved hand. "My terms stay the same." But I still hate it when I can't refute your points... 

—"Good. Then sit back and let me do my job." Neither Dolly or Chippy and Hammie speaks up, knowing better than to interfere. Well, the two hamsters actually opened their mouths to argue in their magister's defense, but quickly decided otherwise when Pirin levels them a stern look. A very clear 'Stay out of this.' 

—"Argh! You–! Snide, two-face fiend! Of course you'd play devil's advocate!" 

The room feels cold, tension pressing down like a storm waiting to break loose. The felled star remains deathly muted for a long moment, expression emotionless as he holds her angered leer evenly..coldly. —"Two-faced you say?" Chippy warily unsheathes his heavy sword from its scabbard strapped to his back, but his hands are trembling with fear, knowing it means nothing. His bravado doesn't phase the man. One hit of those razor-sharp claws, that's all it would take to disarm and forfeit his life. But he'd still fight to protect his Magister, like the loyal acorn-knight he is. Pirin calmly slides off from his stool. —"A bold claim that is, ultimately, hardly more than a baseless accusation." His steps are even and soundless graceful strides as he crosses the room leisurely. But the tone is one of cold-blood without remorse or mercy as he goes on to point out as a matter-of-faculty.

—"I never acted or claimed to be a saint, not even back in my younger days. Certainly didn't do from the start of this charade either. Quite opposite, actually. On day one, I've made my intent clear to everyone." Composed, neutral, unreadable. The woman regards him with a cautious displeased frown, following his every move. However, he makes no moves to attack, merely carries on past her, intent to leave and pauses. Brown irises meet pearly white. "It's you who's acting high and mighty whilst wearing my skin, 'my lady'. Or 'my lord', whatever you feel like being on each day." And with that he turns to look ahead. This time, his tone is reminiscing and distant, disapproving; disappointed. Sorry. —"You know...Whether or not Esperia burnt to ashes or thrived, it didn't matter to me. Back then, when you called upon me, ushered me out in the world to carry your burden–I only wanted to get out. But, somehow you made me care. Showed me the reason why. Went as far as to indirectly guide me for the first initial steps, taught me to cradle peoples' hopes and dreams like treasures...You set me an example, of not only how to carry your legacy." The magister looks away, and says nothing. That part, she still remembers vividly. When Ryeham was ablaze, people were in peril, and fire Elementals and gruglins ran rampant causing havoc through the two villages. 

Back then, the newly incarnated spirit wanted to have nothing to do with any of it, rather stay out of the matter and either passively watch or leave...Until she showed him fragmented visions of the villagers' plight, each life having great value and potential–Not just some fragile, puny bugs that only know how to be at each other's throats and devour everything around them in the process. Managed to peel back the hardened layers of ice, and stone to coax out the kind, gentle wounded soul hidden deep in cynicism. Back in those days, Merlin was the one who in the end convinced the distrustful, weary, yearning heart that it's worth it. 

Saving, helping those people, the world and journeying through it whilst holding it aloft–It's worth it. 

"Now you only care about wealth and praise, seeing others as nothing but little pawns...As though they're like you–Immune to harm and death, the world nothing, but your playground. You hold grudges, have let glory get to your head and get furious at the smallest of slights and inconveniences. You've become a righteous zealot whom merely wants to appear like a hero, keeping up a saintly mask instead of do as you preach." Turning around, Pirin fully faces the mage with a wan smile, tone soft. But the words, the ugly ruthless truth cut deep–Stirring up deep angered guilt, remorse and self-disappointment. 

—"What happened, Merlin?" 

Balling her hands into tight fists, she blinks back bitter tears, and smiles wryly, turning on her heel to face him. Beneath the sweet tone, lies a sardonic edge of pained scorn. 

—"You have a lot of nerve, friend–Talking about truth. Like some wise arbiter rendering judgement, when you yourself wear a hero's mask." That I've thrusted upon you without question. The air crackles with energy, the storm so close to breaking in full force.

A ball of light slowly manifests into the palm of her hand.

—"Since you took down mine, let me remove yours, no?" The light lashes out in an instant like a powerful blast, hitting him square in the chest–In the heart, forcing the towering walls to crumble and the frost to thaw, inner thoughts unlocked with no way to be locked up again. Not unless the spell is undone. 

In a blink, the blazing star is gone.  

.

.

Somewhere in Holistone, on the beaten down path winding through the village of Northville, a small squad is passing by. Two solders, two archers, along with two shielded hoplites and their captain. Sauntering with easy, languid strides and hands laced behind his head, Valen effortlessly keeps a discreet eye on his surroundings. It has been well over four years since the attack and attempted corruption of the crops in Southville. Everything looks to be in order, peaceful with the occasional fire caused by negligence in spite of the village chief's instructions aside, or attempts at controlled fire and junk disposal going awry. But it barely gets further than that, thankfully. 

*Thud.* ...What was that? 

—"What was that?" One of the archers looks around, hands moving to grip his bow. Nothing comes in his line of sight. The other solder tries to play it off cool by muttering with a light dismissive shrug of her shoulders.

—"Sounds like someone falling. Probably a drunkard." 

Glancing over at the others, it appears he's really not imagining things. Letting his carefree stance drop to one of slight caution, he grips Stormcaller with a hand and gives a dismissive wave before anyone could speak. Don't rush to draw your weapons. The solders nod stiffly in response.

—"I'll go check it out, I won't be long." After a nod from the heavy-armored squad giving green-light to proceed, Valen turns and heads towards the noise. The dirt quietly crunches under his boots as he approaches steadily, straining his hearing for any other sounds. Nothing moves, the sun continuing its lazy descent. Good. So far at least. The noise came somewhere here, near the waystone at the road's fork. Could it have been a crow dropping a stick? No, too heavy. A few more steps forward– The wheat on the right rustle. 

!

Scowling, the high-ranking knight unsheathes the lightning-infused blade and darts straight for the source, ready to strike in the blink of an eye. Only to immediately halt in his tracks with coarse eyebrows raised to his hairline in surprise as the silhouette gets up. Albeit having a bit of trouble keeping balance as though dazed. 

—"Pirin? What are you doing here? Hold on, let me help–" Quickly, the former mercenary steps forward and sheaths his weapon. With a faintly pained hum, said man stands still, eyes screwed shut and clutching his forehead with a gloved hand; barely registers Valen's call or approaching steps, the world still spinning for another second. And then he tries to step back with a shake of his head, or forth, but trips over a small rock–Warm, lean yet strong arms steady him. "I got you. Easy, you appear to be dizzy." 

—"Thanks, Val. The teleportation made me off-balance for a second." The knight flashes him a charming smile, and offers back with his ringing tenor holding a laid-back lilt that softens at the end. It's been so long since we last spoke. 

—"No trouble at all. I'm glad you're alright." Holding him for a few more seconds to make sure Pirin's okay to stand on his own, he carefully lets go and draws back. But still stays by the shorter man's side in case he needs help again, falling back into pleasant small talk easily after confirming to himself no threats are nearby. It's not long before Valen's tone turns chipper, peppered with friendly jests and the occasional flirty teasing, casually looping an arm around the other's shoulder. 

And steers him out of the wheat-field, back onto the road while doing so. 

—"Aren't you supposed to be on a vacation in Cedar town? The general told me you were rather reluctant to go. Did you come back because you miss me?" What Valen gets back in place of a verbal answer causes him to pause, caught off-guard: Two ice-cold arms wraps around his waist, encircling him into a tight hug as the mage rests his cheek against his chest, letting out a muffled 'hmmf.' 

Okay, something is definitely wrong. Pirin? Giving hugs? Hypogeans are more likely to turn good than him getting affectionate. 

But, the purple-eyed Solitaire readily returns the hug regardless, huffing a small laugh as he does and gives a light squeeze. It's not the worst surprise to be honest. If anything, the phantom should do this more often, same as smiling and laughing–Better than being perpetually grim or distantly pensive. I can get used to this. 

"Are you under a spell or something? You don't usually have the habit of giving bear-hugs like this." 

Squeezing back tightly, the 'Magister' remains quiet for a second then at last answers, shedding some light on the situation. Plus addressing his inquiries in a mildly miffed tone that seems to be more directed at the culprit behind this 'misfortune', avoiding his gaze. The simple honesty in his voice catches the captain off-kilter. Two times catching him off-guard in a row? Impressive. 

—"Yes–I got into a cat-fight with Merlin by calling him out on his nonsense. He put this stupid jinx on me that forces me to impulsively hug those I deem close, and also talk without filter. I already didn't want say any of this. And yes, yes I missed you–You have no idea." Followed up by an irritable mutter in a slavic tongue under his breath aimed at said mage. "...Диване."

Valen holds back a laugh at the absurdity of this, along with the mild insult per Merlin's address, skillfully maintaining his unfazed poker-face and charming smile as he hums a neutral "I see.." instead. 

—"And, I'm guessing that the more close you view someone, the more you will hug that person right away, right?" I admit–It's comforting to know you see me as a good friend. It's hard to believe just how quickly those years slipped away, and it's like general Hogan has assigned him to watch over the scrawny mage just yesterday. Back then, he'd thought it would be another tedious escort mission with a difficult charge. Only to have been proven wrong on so many levels. It was actually an absolute blast–Even made him tempted to become the magister's personal knight! The adventures they've had, from Ryeham to the Dark Forest and Remnant Peak...Time sure can be a harsh mistress, unrelenting in her march. 

The quiet uneasy hum-like noise Pirin makes draws the brunet out of his momentary reverie and back to the present moment. The response once again promptly wipes off his smirk, replacing it with a look of near disbelieving surprise, blinking down at his former charge stumped. 

—"...Yes. And I would have hugged you sooner but was too woozy. I..don't want to let go, actually. ..ugh, I should seriously shut my trap before I say something stupid." A slow smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, amethyst eyes twinkling with amusement, sympathy, playfulness, quiet joy and fondness as he regards his old pal, keeping his arms around the other's slender frame. Ignoring that last little grumble and choosing to focus on the previous words.

—"Well, then don't. It's okay to cuddle for a moment from time to time, and frankly–I don't mind it in the slightest. Not to mention you seem to need it with how stressed you must be, shouldering the Magister's mantle mostly alone." Mostly alone... Technically it's not true since Chippy & Hammie are a constant but. They're not exactly classified as pleasant company in his book, let alone 'friends', are they? And the folks who inevitably end up joining the party for the journey's duration? Strangers too fleeting to get out of the 'faceless ally or obstacle' mental category. 

Most of the time the adventure ends much too soon, not enough to get a better look at the person or group. ....And yet here this sassy knight is–Having left a lasting impression that hasn't faded since. Jumped quickly from a faceless stranger to friend and snatched his loyalty, almost as if with the snap of his fingers. Or have I softened? Become too lenient, like Merlin said..?

"Can't believe I fall so quickly...so embarrassing. You just–" Dammit, misspoke! The Graveborn-looking man clamps his mouth shut, and quickly slips out of his companion's grasp like a fish or smoke. "K, I should scurry–See ya!"

—"Vanya–!"

—"Captain Valen!"

—"Sir Valen!" Oop, out of time. 

Hurried footsteps approach, and the chestnut-haired swordsman winces at realizing he has made a slight blunder. Whoops, I completely forgot about our mission. Sure enough, a group of worried colleagues catches up.

—"Captain, we heard rustling in the wheat-fields on our way and a voice–" 

Turning to face them, he raises one hand in a reassuring gesture for the group to pipe down, running the other through his wavy strands with a mildly sheepish smile. 

—"Nothing to worry about, Sam. You probably heard a mouse, as for the latter–I ran into a friend. Turns out he wasn't feeling well and thought he'd lost something in the wheat, but lost his footing." Half-bullcrap and half-truth. The others exchange looks of curiosity and sympathy. Meanwhile Sam scratched the back of his head, mumbling a disapproving "Well, I hope he recovers swiftly..But I think he ought to ease up, mind his well-being a little more." Looks like the team's divided between assuming said friend has overworked himself, is sickly, or had one beer too many. 

—"It's alright, he will be fine. Now, how about we go finish our cursory look and go for a round of drinks at Traveler's Light?" A round of collective agreement follows and everyone moves on to make their rounds after divvying up with their superior going patrol the fields. Valen smiles to himself, making a small mental note...

-----------

Somewhere in the Dark Forest...

The teleportation wasn't kind this time either. Thankfully it didn't give him vertigo for very long, all it took was to blink his eyes and shake it off. Rising onto his feet and dusting himself off, the wintery traveler carries on, slinking through the dense foliage soundlessly. Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, Pirin slows down his gait, lifting his head to watch the skies... Each step is an old memory: Resolving the inner Thornguard conflict, curing the roots, overthrowing Eomir and restoring the Lucent tree after obtaining the Sylvan egg, witnessing Lyca's 'crowning' as the new scion of the sacred tree–

I wonder if Lily May has been let out...Still can't believe Lenya is in-charge of the Dusk patrollers. I've..completely lost track of time, haven't I? Hold on–

Up ahead, the voices of children frolicking and soft chatter flows like warm rivers. And a village nestled deep into the rainforest comes into sight, the towering weeping willow at the center standing like a proud beacon amidst the cluster of humble houses, lush gardens, shrubbery and peaceful folks going about their daily lives. The sun peers through the trees, painting the jungle village in a warm dappled light almost like giving it a halo, the soft blues, reds, pinks and yellows of dawn making the place look... Ethereal. 

Like returning home. 

Stopping in his tracks, the lone wolf finds himself suddenly breathless as he stands before the vine bridge–In the shade of the grove. There's a tightening in his chest and throat, like longing, warmth, joy and pain all in one..strange sweet nostalgia. ...My first 'home'.. How did I get to Lunadorf...? A pull deep in his heart brings Pirin out from his reverent musings and tugs him forward. 

Scowling, he huffs a faint 'Seriously?' to himself under his breath, feet already not listening and shuffling towards the village. Oh great, the spell got triggered again. There, by the willow tree–Stand two rabbit siblings, a blond stag and an avian with his trusty teal and blue-plumaged falcon. How can he ever mistake their voices? Hey, w-wait! Hold on–! But it's too late, already breaking into a jog that turns to a run despite desperately trying not to.

The blue-feathered bird perching on her companion's arm stops in her idle preening and snaps her head in alert, turning her head towards the bridge. And lets out a slight screech in happy greetings as well as signaling the approaching of another person. Perceptive as always, the blindfolded Windwhisperer tilts his head, inquisitively listening to his friend's thoughts and smiles subtly.

—"Looks like we have company." –He acknowledges in his smooth, velvety baritone voice, tone calm as ever, causing the others to give a quizzical look. A bit puzzled at Bryon and Elona for a moment, at first.

Lorsan's smug grin falters, now looking confused as he echoes "Company..?" while his older sister adopts a more contemplative stance, trying to figure out who could this new arrival be. Her unvoiced thoughts getting echoed by the towering swordsman whom also looks pensive, teal eyes sweeping over the village. 

—"Who could it be?" The group pause in their conversation, the two siblings' ears giving a small twitch, picking up on his footfalls. All four turn their heads to look at the newcomer at hearing his familiar 'dulcet' tone. Or deathly. The former Dusk patroller captain, scion of the Lucent tree and the grey-haired Windwhisperer wearing expressions of incredulous surprise on their faces, shocked to see their 'Graveborn' comrade running toward them as if chased by Glimmerblooms or angry gruglins. Except for Bryon who appears composed if not mildly amused.

—"Lyca! Eironn! Bryon!" 

—"Pirin?"–The pink-haired woman and the Stormsword question almost in perfect unison, both appearing as though startled for a second. It really is him. 

—"Hey! You left me out! What about me?" –The blue-eyed hare protests with a pout at his name not being called out. And then lets out a small 'oof!' as he and the other three Wilders get enveloped into a bone-crushing hug, almost tackled even due to the momentum. Good grief, he's squeezing like a python! 

–"Gah, I can't breathe!" –Poor Lorsan gasps out with a small grimace, squirming to get free and feeling like his lungs are being pressed. When that doesn't work, he lightly swats at the shorter man's shoulder, choking out his laments— "Vanyo–Too tight! Ease up, you'll crush us!" Meanwhile Eironn stays perfectly stiff, unsure of what to make of this encounter or what to do. Getting and giving any form of affection is still very foreign to him, plus the added fact that social interactions aren't his strongest suit...So he ends up awkwardly standing still, brain practically short-circuiting due to overthinking.

On the other hand, Lyca recovers from her initial surprise and hugs back with surprising strength, a big smile on her lips. (The pallid 'Magister' hurriedly loosens his grasp as if burnt or stung and the bard heaves a sigh of relief, then hesitantly returns the embrace as well. Bryon is merely watching the reunion with a faint smile of quiet happiness, having dodged the hug.) 

—"Welcome back to Lunadorf! We are so happy to see you again!" Forcing himself to let go and pull back, 'Merlin' offers them a sheepish smile as he steps back, mumbling a quick 'Sorry 'bout this.' (Right as Eironn seemed to have finally made up his mind and moved to hug back but stopped himself with a quiet clear of his throat.) Then clasps his hands behind his back, lightly shifting from one foot to another, embarrassed by his impulsive actions. 

—"Heh. Благодаря, и вие ми липсвахте." Thanks to having spent months together on their misadventures, the four Wilders had heard him chatter in this foreign tongue pretty often–Either when livid, exceptionally nervous or any other particularly strong emotion at the time–so it's nothing new. Although Lyca, Bryon and Eironn had managed to take to the language fairly quickly– Lorsan still struggles to grasp it or what's being said. 

—"Uhm, Pirin?" –His baffled pout remains in-tact but now a small grin plays on his features, one brow quirked with gloved hands on his hips. Effectively drawing the other man's attention, who realizes he has spoken in native again and gives an apologetic smile. "Mind if you translate, please? I couldn't quite catch that." 

—"I said 'thank you' and 'I missed you too.' Sorry for the slip-up." Lorsan, however casually waves it off, not minding one bit. It's not that he's got any issues with him babbling or singing in that language, on the contrary–It fascinates him! It's just that he can't understand very well beyond the very basic 'hello', 'goodbye', 'yes' and 'no'.

—"No need to apologize to us for speaking in your native. We all tend to slip into our default language from time to time."–The hare Wilder tosses a teasing smug look over at his old friend. "Isn't that right, Bryon?" The question bears completely different meaning. Said avian Windwhisperer jabs back in kind with that ever so smoothly light sarcasm of his, returning the favor.

—"Indeed, that is the case." 

—"See? Even he agrees." A few seconds pass, and then Lorsan's dazzling smirk quickly turns to an indignant frown– Throwing the other Wilder a surly glare as he snaps back. "Hey! I just got back from voyaging for a bit, and you're already giving me sass!" 

—"I don't know what you mean. I simply confirmed your statement." 

—"You–!!" Lorsan looks about to throw hands, Lyca only crosses her arms over her chest with an unimpressed scowl as she watches the two of them bicker. Not even a proper week since he has returned home for a brief visit, and he's already back at his childish antics with Bryon again. It's like the five of them are at the Old outpost again, back to that moment of their adventures with the mercenary. The memories flash in her mind, and a fondly mirthful smile settles on her lips unbidden. Some things never change.

"Boys." –She sighs with a shake of her head, leaving the two 'fools' to continue exchanging jabs in the background. (Her younger brother, much to his chagrin and growing frustration, keeps getting outwitted by his fellow Windwhisperer at every turn.) Meanwhile Eironn has absolutely no idea what to do with himself, so he just...defaults to idly practicing his swordplay and listens to his two old comrades with half-an ear in case the clash of wits turns to one of fists. Turning back to Pirin– The new Scion of Misarte's sacred tree gently takes him by the hand with a warm smile, earning herself a curious look. 

—"Come on, let's go find you a place to rest. You must be exhausted from your journey." Lyca barely gives him much time to answer before tugging him to come along, throwing an easy-going 'Please keep an eye on Lorsan for me!' over her shoulder at the Stormsword and gets a simple dutiful nod in return. Already her mind is zipping from one place to another as though planning a welcome back party for their short 'ghost'– Lodging accommodations, food according to his specific diet, places to tour, show what's new and improved, the whole nine yards. 

A cold gloved hand comes to rest on her shoulder, halting the woman in her tracks. The wistful, apologetic note tinting her companion's voice draws her attention.

—"Lyca. Thank you for the hospitality, but I shouldn't linger very long." 

—"Huh? But..How come? Is there a task you need to do or places to be?" Worry. The magister gives a small shake of his head, waving off her apprehension in silent reassurance as if to say 'It's nothing grave.' The magenta-eyed former patrol captain turns to fully face him as he speaks, explaining the situation evenly with a bit of humor. The boys catch up with steady strides, just in time. 

—"Long story-short, I'm still not done with my journey as Merlin, rather I...am taking a detour to regroup. Kind of. The enemies are an idea stronger than my team and I figured continuously bashing our heads wouldn't work, so the quest has been put on pause. However I got into bit of a squabble with my boss, aand she put a jinx on me." 

—"A jinx? Can you remove it?" –Lyca's younger twin brother pipes up, eying him with the same concerned look as the bow-woman is. Eironn joins in next, stony expression of dutiful stoicism betrayed by the poorly masked apprehension in his counter-tenor voice, already ready to leap into action. Bryon stays pensively muted, listening without rushing to speak up. No one bothers with the fact that the Arch mage is being a woman for today instead of a man like most of the time.

—"We can bring you to grannie Dahnie or grandpa Arden–They should know a way to lift or counter it." 

—"Exactly! We can come along with you, too!" 

Raising his hands in front of himself with a pained grimace, the spirit waves off their worries and fussing over him. All while holding back from opening his mouth to speak, not trusting himself not to blurt out something in the moment. Simply opts for signaling for the group to calm down. Finally feeling more confident, he goes on to elaborate on the matter, assuaging the Wilders' anxiety. 

—"It's nothing big–I'm okay, really! Bit inconvenient getting teleported randomly and having the impulse to run up to people and hug them, plus having a big mouth with no filter...But I can manage! ...somehow."

The four exchange looks, unsure whether to laugh–Lorsan appears to be struggling with holding back a snicker–or get even more worried about their 'faux Wilder' friend.

"But that's besides the point, anyway–She'll lift it off once I get back at the Mystical House. Should've calmed down by now." 

—"...I see." –Eventually Eironn mumbles after a long moment of pause to process the information. He still sounds reluctant, evidently voicing his companions' thoughts, getting a quiet affirmative 'mmhm.' from the much shorter male. Looking up at the horizon and the morning sun shining high, Pirin turns back to his rainforest crew with a nostalgic smile.

—"Well, I'm glad I got to see you again, my friends. I should get going." How's it that saying goodbye is so difficult now? It's Lyca who steps forth first, throwing her arms around him in a parting hug, tone a little saddened but tender as she speaks dutifully. Akin to a leader that has to make the tough call of letting go of someone dear. In a way...It is the case, for both of them. 

—"I understand. I wish you good luck on your journey, Vanya." Pulling back, she levels the incarnated star a half‐mock, half‐sincere stern look as she reminds him before letting go of his shoulders. "Don't forget to rest properly and take care of yourself, okay?" 

—"Dully noted. You too, you know?" The woman chuckles in response. His eyes flicker up at the towering stag Wilder when he takes his turn to bid farewell next, giving him a firm nod in acknowledgement. 

—"Take care, Ioan. May your travels be safe." For a second the blond pauses, as though unsure if he should keep it at that or not, before making his decision. "Don't hesitate to call upon us, should you find yourself in need of help. Even if only needing an ear and someone to talk to." 

—"Thank you, Eironn." 'The same goes for you, too.' goes unsaid but understood. The vampire's tone takes on a more lighthearted tinge as he adds on, earning himself a faint but amused smile from the graceful swordsman. "Although, I may see you again soon on the battlefield. We've still got some Dead Tide rascals to handle." 

"Dead Tide? Who are those?" 

"A fleet of pirates ruled by a Graveborn man named Hodgkin. We have an inside joke in the current team of calling him 'Davy Jones in undergarments'. It's a nod to a pirate story Pirin had told us about when we first arrived in Rustport, a coastal town in the Lightbearer Empire." 

"Darn it, I missed the adventure!" 

—"And a bigger pain in the bum than Cecia could ever hope to be." –He lazily slides in to 'helpfully' supplement, making Lorsan and Eironn glance at him. The former mildly baffled and clueless while the latter merely nods in agreement to his commentary. Finally Bryon takes his turn to offer his goodbye. 

—"Farewell, my friend. Do come back to visit when you can, you're always welcome in the Dark Forest." 

—"I will...Or, at least, I hope so. Otherwise I'll be sure to write a letter or two when things are a little less crazy." Lastly, Lorsan's turn came. Stepping forth, the bard stands before him with.. an uncharacteristically serious expression. No teasing or smug smirk, no swooping gestures or silly bravado. ...And then the hare Wilder extends a gloved hand.

There's a fond, proud look in his teal green eyes. Pirin takes the offered hand, and gives a firm brief shake with a fiery gleam. Defiance, refusal to fail or be defeated. 

—"Take care, Vanyo. May the wind guide you on your path. And stay true to your heart." The much leaner man mutely arches an eyebrow curiously with a fond smile but doesn't question aloud, not wanting to ruin the moment. Just where did this one come from? A moment of wisdom for the carefree Windwhisperer.  

—"I will. Thanks Lorsan." And with that, Pirin vanishes into thin air, teleported to the next destination. 

Meanwhile, back at the Mystical House— 

Three Hypogeans sit at one of the tables, each minding their own business, seemingly unbothered by how oddly quiet and empty the lounge is currently. No other patrons scuttle about, no chatter or utensil clatter, nothing.

Not that Phraesto or Reinier cared about any of that, actually enjoying this bland stillness and deafening quiet--The illusionist calmly and leisurely sipping away at the mint tea he was provided with a mild look of uninterested disdain but too lazy to get himself anything else. So he has simply resigned himself to this warm tasteless leaf water and puffing from that long smoking pipe of his, looking off at nothing in particular. Just look at the fool. There's not a single thought through that scorpion head!

Or maybe he's got high as a kite, off to.. nobody knows where, honestly.

Now Reinier? Ho ho ho, poor dorito-head is so busy obsessing over perfection and symmetry, that it's absolutely hilarious! 

For the twelfth time, the shadowy jester all too casually swaps the cups of the fine-china set, placing the green-ornamented one on the plate of the other cup that has green leaves and cherry blossoms on it. The symmetric sin once again fixes them up without a word, appearing composed. And of course, the mischief-maker promptly waits for a few seconds before deliberately messing up the 'balanced order' again to further annoy him. This time no immediate reaction followed from said perfectionist but the tense silence is a dead give away to his simmering irritation. Then Reinier moves the mismatched porcelain cups back on their appropriate saucers with one hand, his own cup of drink gingerly held in the other which leaves his secondary set of arms free.

Head resting in his hand and elbow propped on the table's edge, back comically slouched and legs crossed one of the other, Berial reaches out to yet again ruin the symmetry--However gets harshly slapped by his very miffed fellow Hypogean. 

—"Stop sullying the masterpiece, clown." 

—"Oh shut up, you bumbling neat-freak. It's just a tea set." -He retorts back at the other's vexed reprimanding hiss with an amused sly smirk, letting out a giggle when the four-armed perfectionist bristles at him.

—"It is not "just some tea set"! It is perfect, balanced, as it should be. Behold— the marvelous symmetry! Truly a most exquisite masterpiece! The very pinnacle of beauty." Berial merely brushes off the tirade, waving his free hand dismissively, spotted tail curled in his lap lazily but doesn't bother with messing up the set again. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Suit yourself, killjoy."

Reinier 'hmfs!' indignantly at his crass dismissal but doesn't argue further, content to gaze upon the 'masterpiece' with proud satisfaction and appraising its so called 'beauty'.

Looking around with a bored scoff, the sinister silhouette then glances over at the Magister and his two little hamsters seated on the sofa in the elevated alcove-like corner of the room. Grinning gleefully, he throws a side-glance over at the other two dark beings and slides in a quick snide jab Phraesto's way. 

—"At least I'm not a totally blundering buffoon like Stinger-head here. And I was hoping to see a good performance that day...tsk, pity." The ashen-skinned bulky illusionist glares at him from over the rim of his teacup. Pushing a little bit more, he proceeds to toss one more, not even trying to hide his sardonic mirth and quickly swaps the cups again.

"All that bark for nothing, really. I honestly thought you'd put up a fight instead letting yourself get resealed like that by a kid, Phraesto. So much for 'wanting freedom', eh?" 

—"You-! Get back here!" Berial vanishes off in a puff of smoke with a hearty cackle, suddenly reappearing next to the mage like a Jack-o-the box toy, startling the two rodents who jump back with a yelp. 

—"Aanyway~! I haven't see our delightful huffy bat all day today, Magister Merlin~." Merlin calmly flips to the next page of the book he's reading, completely indifferent to the talking head sitting in his lap and the decapitated body laying on its side on top of the sofa...curling around his head like a neck pillow, while Chippy shudders with a disgusted and mildly fearful grimace and Hammie frowns, hands on her hips disapprovingly.

"I was wondering where your little helper has gone? It's soo, woefully boring, and quiet here!" -He laments in a dramatically saddened sigh, head inching up and up on the page, obscuring the text as he does, staring at the mage without blinking with a wide gaping jagged grin. The feathery wings on his body flutter playfully and the tail swishes languidly, caressing the magister's neck under his chin.

Yup, being purposefully very creepy to rouse a reaction--Typical Berial. By now their foreheads are almost touching, left glowing pale purple orb leaking trails of 'tears' or 'blood' along with some of the substance dripping also out of his maw. 

A few moments of silence pass.

—"Done with your theatrics, Berial? I'm trying to read if you don't mind." And with this remark, Merlin grips the jester's head by the hair, and tosses it over his shoulder. Finishing up reading the page, he then adds nonchalantly, turning over to the next.

"He's teleporting around Esperia to revisit some points of his journey. I placed a spell to help him be less brooding, since he called me a pretentious coward." Oh- ho?  

Snickering, the performer slinks from around the mage like a snake, movements comically exaggerated and popping.

—"Now, now, I know you like to play games— But this is awfully devious of you, Merlin~! Color me impressed!" Makes the encounter at Mars Peak comically ironic, and so delectably potent with chaos, doesn't it? Looks like the Magister had already beat him to the nifty trick of being a 'faux Merlin' way ahead of time. 

—"He started it. Regardless, you should find him at Remnant Peak. It's the next stop of his free-hugs tour." My, my. You must truly be furious, disclosing his whereabouts so readily like this. Smirking down at the apathetic, almost bored-looking Merlin, Berial opens a portal underneath his feet and hops in. 

—"Hehehe-Don't mind if I do!~"

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

To say he was confused upon finding himself standing at the Moon temple would be an understatement. Why is the spell following his destinations according to the chronological order of the adventures he had from day one to current point? 

Merlin, what's your goal here? 

At least the teleportation was much smoother this time around. Looking up at the marble pillars and vine-covered arches of the sanctuary's ruins, the buzzing hum of powerfully potent ancient energy lightly pulls at his attention. Turning to peer up at the central podium stage at the end of the two stairways of the temple, the Pallid covenant warily takes a tiny step forward as if mesmerized under hypnosis. This magic-it's... raw, pulsating and warm, greater than any he's seen, even his own. It's almost scorching and blinding as the very sun in its intensity, somewhere within it-A tranquil knowing smile of millennia-old wisdom, humbling and overwhelming. 

The threads... so bright and intricate.. 

Somehow, all his worries are gently eased away, like swept by a tide and left aside so very far. The purest form of magic, congealed into one being of authority. Warmth, soothing and light yet fond and sonorously harmonic swirls around his form like honey. An amicable, no, affable welcome- Beckoning to walk closer. The presence nearly makes him tear up, feeling simultaneously wary, weary, vulnerable and exposed, lost and at home- chocked. 

Stopping just shy of the left stairwell's first step, Pirin slowly bows his head on one knee and closes his eyes, hands pressed together with their backs as if in a form of prayer. A form of deep respectful reverence and greeting, hands forming a symbolic union of light and darkness- two opposites interwoven into cosmic balance. Life and death. Just as mother, grandma and many generations back have taught. No matter whether one agrees, likes, understands a deity or not- Respect should be shown in his or her presence. Even more so when being in that god or goddess's domain. 

—"Venus of Dawn."

A light chuckle rumbles in the god's chest, giving a shake of his head- dismissing the greeting. His presence drapes over the exhausted soul like placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

No need to be afraid. I harbor no ill intent. 

Ever since the very first day the incarnated spirit arrived on Esperia, brought from the beyond by Merlin, he knew of the child's presence. Along with all the misfortunes and sorrows that the weathered spirit had endured across his four previous lifetimes, each having left a gaping bitter mark etched upon him... As well as what fate has outlined for him for this current cycle and the many others after it. Though, knowing this soul has willfully chosen to hold the role of martyr or sacrifice to lead and aid those around him, does pique his fascinated curiosity. A path most thorned and not easy to walk... 

—"Please, no need for such formalities, Pirin." The phantom straightens out, thoughts and emotions flowing like a jittery melody. It can't be helped, it seems. Summoning his goblet of ambrosia, Dionel raises it in a toast. "Come, my friend. Partake with me."

Another goblet appears from thin air, taking on the form of a simple wooden cup with a wavy reddish line around the rim.

A sweet memory of home, the drink being ice-cold freshwater from a mountain spring. It floats over, settling in the young man's gloved hand as he carefully steps forth and climbs the stairs. 

Thank you, Dionel. The radiant god of banquets and indulgence simply settles comfortably, choosing to respond verbally to the star's thoughts. 

—"The pleasure is all mine. It has been quite some time since I last had company." Doubt and irritation swirl, the Celestial picking up on them with ease but doesn't rush his guest to speak. A brief moment of serene silence passes before Ioan voices what's on his mind, looking into the mug of water in his hands, grey owl-like brows creased into a confused pensive scowl. Ah, yes. The current predicament and the question that had been left hanging since their first encounter. 

—"I simply don't understand, why did the mage call out to me? What is it that made Merlin think of entrusting his role to me instead of carrying it himself?" 

—"You are viewing the journey as a dutiful burden. Perhaps it would be better to change the lens and consider it from a different angle of perspective?" The star looks up, unsure. The god of song and wine doesn't elaborate on his point, letting his words sink in and be processed, knowing the person in front of him is perceptive enough to catch on quickly. Instead he swirls the ambrosia in his hand, taking a slow sip and savoring it. I see your point. However I still firmly believe it wasn't supposed to be mine to begin with. Dionel only offers a patient, knowing and amused look in turn as he calmly refutes. Look closer, child of the Eclipse. You already hold the answers that you are looking for.

—"I- It was supposed to...? Wait, so I was supposed to become a node in his reincarnations??" Frustrated, stubbornly refusing to face the truth laid at his feet. Denial and fear of failing, letting down those who look up to him.

And fear of getting attached, and the inevitable loss of it all.

The fear of old tragedies repeating themselves anew lurking underneath. The lessons of forgiveness and embracing change being uncomfortable truths for him.

Yet, the experiences and connections borne from this journey in the pursuit of holding the world aloft have inevitably already long left their marks, helped the vex grow well into his role as 'Merlin'. A steadfast kindhearted leader whom holds peoples' hopes and dreams close, uniting them together while resolving crises with a clear mind and piercing through the fog of illusion. A hero.

Such was the Magister's goal from the start-To step back from his endlessly cyclical venture and recuperate, reflect before becoming faulty, loosing sight of the mission; While giving rise to 'newer blood', ushering a new perspective to help himself further improve as well alongside the new legend... And be reminded of his own lessons as well through his observations from the sidelines.

—"Indeed." 

An unwelcome presence emerges, causing the Celestial's lips to thin. What is that vile fiend doing here? 

—"Aww come on, don't give these looks! Where's the fun, the smiles, the joy? Why so serious?" 

—"Why, are you here, clown?" Berial makes a face as though wounded, sinking to one knee with a hand over his forehead, pretending to have been greatly saddened by the mercenary's sharp hiss. Only to fall into the ground and pop back out right in front of him, still feigning being a damsel in distress as he drapes himself over the shorter man's shoulders, wings dangling limply and tail swishing slowly.

However gets zero reaction from either--Pirin because he's not impressed by the bravado and Dionel due to not wanting to deign him with any. The light disapproving scowl of cold disdain is enough clue of the gallant Celestial's thoughts on the mouthy fool.  

Oh come on! Really?? Nothing at all? Spoilsports. 

—"So heartless.. You wound me, 'Merlin', truly." Turning to look at the deity, the impish demon grins wickedly as he hurls a callous jabbing remark his way. This provocation, too falls flat. "Dionel, old pal- What happened to my warm welcome? Aren't you the god of feasts and cheer, and I your guest?" Then the jester slithers towards his old-time foe, slowly tilting his head as if it would fall off his shadowy body, voice sweetly venomous and mocking. "Or am I not special enough to be invited, hmm? To have the same courtesy as the legendary V.I.P Magister?" 

—"I do not entertain the likes of you, Berial." -The Venus of Dawn utters flatly in an even tone, meeting the rapscallion's leer coolly. Doesn't give him the satisfaction of loosing his composure and snapping, no matter how much he's tempted to wring that insolent Hypogean's neck and fling him straight back to the abyss he crawled from after spearing him at least a thousand times. Still haven't forgotten those stunts the buffoon has had pulled off back in the ye olden days. And while back then Dionel would've loved to get back at the clown, now he knows much better than to fly into ire and charge blindly. That kind of action would only feed and encourage the imp. 

—"Berial, get to the point. Why did you come here?" The jester blinks, gleeful smirk not faltering as he turns his head three hundred and sixty degrees before slowly turning his body to align and bounces over back to Pirin. 

—"Why, a little tweety told me that you're giving free hugs! So I popped by to get mine, of course~! Bet you already gave one to Mr. Sloth drunk, hm?" 

 ... I'm going to snap Merlin's neck when I get back, consequences be damned. 

—"I didn't. And I'm not giving you one either, so get lost." Aww, but I'm on your team regularly! I thought we were buddies by now!   That's because you're useful for turning the battle in our favor. Not 'cause we're 'old pals'. 

—"So much for that free-hugs tour...Tsk, my disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined. And here I was, looking forward to it. Alas, this clown gets no love today.. Pity." Taking off his top-hat and twirling it in the air, the Hypogean tosses it up and leaps off the ground to jump inside of the hat. "Well, I have places to be- Tooda-loo~! See you in the next match!" With that, the fiend is gone.

Looking back over to Dionel, the shorter pale man opens his mouth, but before he could say anything-

The spell activates. In a blink, Pirin vanishes into thin air, getting teleported to the next stop of the unintentional 'free hugs' tour throughout Esperia. 

--------

Is it just me, or is the teleportation much faster all of a sudden? —Tensing up as if hitting a bump in a road and sharply flaring his arms out, flailing a bit to maintain balance upon narrowly loosing it, he glances up at the skies. Clear deep blue still, the sun beginning its steady descent signaling afternoon is approaching...And it's beating down relentlessly with no remorse, the air vibrating with the unforgiving heat as a breeze kicks up some dust off the dry ground. Right back to square zero. 

Taking a step forward and squinting at the shifting sands, the felled star struggles to catch his breath and keep moving in search of a shade to cool off.

But every single step feels weighted down and limbs like lead, throat already parched and scratchy. It took a good three months to adapt to the harsh desert, time that isn't on hand now.

Who knows when the teleportation spell will kick in again? 

Wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and continuing to stubbornly push on ahead, the need for water starts to add up rapidly, body desperately screaming for some hydration to lower the temperature. The waypoint is so close yet so very out of reach. Just a little more... Stumbling a little, the snowy-haired vampire stops in his tracks, heaving for breath and hunched over with his hands gripping his knees firmly to keep grounded.

"This...constant...rapid change of climate, isn't doing me any favors..." -He mutters under his breath between panting and swallows before forcing himself to trudge onwards, still not out of determination to make it to the closest waystone just up ahead. The world starts to spin, vision blurring as nausea hits and making sense of his own thoughts starts to become increasingly difficult. Grimacing, he clutches at his head, barely making another step, knees going weak. A clear baritone voice calls from somewhere ahead, vaguely familiar—A figure of a bear-like Mauler approaching cautiously before moving bit more rapidly, as if jogging or sprinting to close the distance.  I...I think I might faint.. The world spins and goes out to black. 

Several minutes pass in silence and floating in the void, only somewhat aware of the distant voices conversing outside along with the shuffling of people. It's hard to make out a single word, but they do sound concerned or slightly anxious. It's less scorching in here, wherever that happens to be. Some more chattering, warm fuzzy clawed hands grip him by the scuff of his shirt then nimble footsteps, dragging his body along. A ringing feminine voice huffs, the young man replying back something which leads to a brief exchange between them until the bear relents, and the hand turns to two strong arms effortlessly hoisting him up. More dutiful quick steps accompanied by another set not far behind.

And then a very sudden cold sensation follows, water then getting sharply lifted up—

Startled at being plunged into the lake like this, Pirin's eyes snap open and he gasps for air, stiff as a plank, looking around with alarm and lingering disorientation. 

—"Soren!" -A very discontent, worried Alsa barks at her brother, making him look over his shoulder at her with a seemingly nonchalant 'what?' scowl. Putting her gauntleted hands on her hips indignantly, the blond pangolin-like young woman goes on to scold him for his callous approach to bringing their friend back to consciousness, scaly tail lowering from how it had straightened out like an exclamation mark.

"Don't dunk him in the water like this! We're trying to wake Pirin up, not drown him!" In truth, Soren was far from intending on drowning the frailer man or harming him in any way.

Problem is, unlike his foster younger sister, he's generally not one to be very gentle, steady or careful and patient to begin with—It only gets worse when he's panicked or agitated.

He had been intending to lower their comrade into the lake and hold him slightly submerged in the cool waters to help with the overheat problem, bring his temperature down...However was already worried upon first spotting the 'magister' while patrolling the clan's perimeter, then got more anxious when he saw Pirin swaying and unresponsive to his calls. The mage was out cold for fifteen minutes, going on twenty without any signs of stirring or coming back, and it made Soren's anxiety spike, fearing for the worst...and then panicked. Good thing Alsa managed to stay relatively composed and help keep him somewhat grounded. 

—"I'm not going to let him drown, Alsa. It's fine." Not one for admitting to such weakness, the ursine warrior attempts to play it off cool, act like it's nothing. When inwardly he cringes at his own poor reaction to the situation and equally poor choice of words, ears pinning back a little for a second before perking up and giving a slight twitch. One of them swivels in their friend's general direction. His sibling scowls disapprovingly up at him, and because of his stupid pride, Soren goes on to dig his grave even further. Silently kicks himself for it mentally, feeling guilty and bad for even saying those defensive words. A very indifferent 'See? Problem solved.' 

And right away, the secondary chieftain of the Uru tribe briefly tenses up as the pale magister moves like a spring in his arms, wrapping him into a tight hug. Partially out of surprise, and also of out of not wanting to accidentally drop the smaller man into the lake, grip tightening instinctively. Looking down at the fragile-looking fellow clutching onto him like a drowner and shivering, Soren blinks, completely flabbergasted and finally manages to find his voice. 

—"What's gotten to you?" Was the stroke that bad...? Probably not, his chalk-pale skin is still somewhat flushed and warmer than it should be but it's not burning or as red as a few moments ago. No sign of delirium either, looks perfectly sober. Coming to stand beside her older brother, Alsa peers down at their companion worriedly with a weak smile of relief on her round face, reaching out a small callous hand to touch his forehead. His temperature is getting back down to normal. That's good, thank the Dusk lord. It's a miracle you managed to recover so quickly. 

—"Are you alright, Vanya? How is your head? Are you nauseous?" Meanwhile Soren keeps up his usual stoic expression, hiding his lingering anxiousness behind a veneer of indifference and pretending to be unaffected. A nasty habit he still hasn't gotten rid of fully. However the furred young protector doesn't let go, a subtle clue of how shaken he is from this close call, russet-brown eyes looking over their friend's slim form for any injuries or other kinds of damage then relaxes a tiny bit at seeing none. Affirms to himself that, yes, Pirin is okay and no longer in grave peril. His own quiet and more subdued way of fussing over the delicate-appearing insomniac.

Memories of their adventures crawl their way up to his mind's eye and the tall Mauler can't help but feel a distant pang of odd nostalgia, a warmth. It was one hell of a ride from start to the very end—This outlander coming in on their clan's turf with two talking hamsters in tow, passing the three trials with his aid, be it more direct or less so at times, fighting Orson at Mars Peak and driving the fake Merlin away. Only to get slapped with three twists one after the other, that being the Merlin who had came to the desert was actually a Hypogean wearing his appearance and then Pirin's real identity...That truth in itself was a shocker and felt like a gut punch at first. The last secret was even more of a surprise, how the real Magister Merlin has chosen to stay cooped up in his home and send a double in his place. It stung. Eventually he, Alsa and their clan came to accept the blood-sucker as Merlin, as he proved himself to be well worth the title, as well as a trustworthy friend.  Suddenly it made sense as to why the man had been so insistent on being called by his name, or nickname, by them and the kids instead of 'Magister' or 'Merlin'. Sometimes they'd lark and call him 'Little finch' until the goofy nickname stuck, and became common.

As days and weeks blurred together, the little ghost became like a part of the Uru clan. Back then both Soren and Alsa, along with the other orphans had noticed how strangely nervous and fidgety he'd get aside from his general restlessness. However none of them could understand where that jitteriness comes from or why it seemed to get particularly bad around Soren specifically. As for the secondary clan chieftain himself, he had a small hunch but kept silent, figuring it's none of his business to pry and that the man would either explain sooner or later. Or not out of his own reasons.

Gradually that odd restlessness faded away, the inner conflict resolved.

It was on that night prior to leaving, that their friend pulled the two of them aside to the campfire once the kids were sound asleep in their respective tents. Turns out he had gotten a pretty strong crush on Soren the first day he had laid eyes on him, however constantly fought it off as their misadventures went on, not wanting to overstep or be even more of a nuisance.

The revelation left both siblings a bit surprised—Alsa more so than her brother who merely smiled in mild knowing amusement, hunch confirmed. Somewhere along the journey, that crush morphed into purely platonic and deeply familial love, viewing the warrior as a younger sibling and best friend just like Alsa and the clan. 

"Throughout this whole journey of playing Merlin, I didn't think I would ever find someone that I'd readily lay down my life for. Even less to find my second family in the middle of a desert, yet here I am." 

The primary chieftain had teared up with a sunny, joyful grin, restraining herself from hopping off the boulder bench and throwing her arms around the short man into a tight, warm hug. Soren, for his part only chuckled as he got up to head back— pausing to playfully pull him with an arm into a side-hug and ruffled his hair. Much like how he'd do with his other siblings. The sentiment very much being mutual. Even in present day, they and the Uru tribe got the albino's back and would jump in to fight tooth and claw without hesitation if it comes to it to protect him. "You mess with Ioan, and you'd be messing with the Uru clan.", as Alsa had proudly declared with a fiery determination. 

—"I'm.. an idea better, thank you." There's a strained smile on his face, and already both siblings could practically hear his next words. Something along the lines of 'I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you two.' or 'Sorry for worrying you.' So, before 'Merlin' opens his mouth to say those apologies and Alsa starts to dote on him, Soren decides to cut this topic short. Otherwise these two would waste half an hour exchanging pleasantries. Stepping out of the lake, he lowers the other man onto his feet and keeps a hand on his shoulder to steady him. And also prevent him from falling in case Vanya looses his balance.

—"Can you walk?" -The clan defender cuts to the point, disentangling and lightly pushing the vampire from himself.

As much as he's fine with hugs and being on the receiving end of affectionate gestures, right now isn't the time for such things.

Safety and ensuring their friend's well-being is top priority, namely preventing another heatstroke and helping with his recovery from the one he has had not too long ago.

Some of the kids look on from the sidelines with apprehensive eyes, some tentative to approach and wanting to help out as well but fear they'd more likely get in the way, and others have begun to hesitantly come over. Most get relieved and calm down when their big sister explains what happened and that their second big brother is much better now, but still needs to recover a little more. Blinking, another apology bubbles up his throat however holds it back and offers a simple, albeit slightly uncertain, answer instead. 

—"I think so, yes." Nodding in satisfaction, the second in command hums a short 'Good.' and begins to head back towards the tents, ushering the other along. Alsa soon rejoins them, only to get pulled into a hug as well. Seriously, what's going on with him today? Not that either of them mind it, it's just rather out of left field.

A look of surprise crosses the short-haired Mauler's features, which quickly turns into her iconic bright, warm grin of happy affection as she hugs back right away with a bone-crushing grip and a fond 'Aww!'

Shaking his head at the two of them with a mildly mirthful smile of reserved fondness, the bear-like toned man gently break up their group cuddling, keeping things on track, much calmer now. 

—"Alright, let's get to the tents first. Come on." Alsa quickly lets go, and Pirin flashes him another sheepish smile as he falls in-step with the two of them. It doesn't take long for the upbeat tribeswoman to begin buzzing in their guest's ear, chattering away excitedly about whatever came to mind— What she and some of the children had found yesterday while foraging, the visit they got from Brutus some days ago, filling him in on how the clan has been faring these days, talking about much her brother's cooking has improved (it really hasn't.) and how she managed to get him to sing once again. Despite knowing very well Soren's crowing sounds far more like a fierce war-cry than anything remotely close to actual singing.

It's how it sounded the first time around, and it's not about to change anytime soon for sure. But she still praises it anyways.

—"It still sounds a little intimidating, but it's getting better!"  —"Wait, really?" —"Yes! It's so much better than it was the first time I asked him!" At this Soren snorts. 

—"It's still the same, don't listen to my sister. A vulture grunts more sonorously than I do."  

Reaching the tents, the three of them settle down, picking Soren's due to Alsa's allegedly being bit of a mess and smaller. It honestly didn't matter as it's only her and the Pallid covenant who sat down on the cot, the fighter preferring to stay standing, not one for sitting down. Also in case he needs to fetch something or move around. It's then that the clan's primary chieftain realizes that the shorter man is still in heavy need of hydration, jumping to her feet as if stung and darts off, putting their catching up lively conversation on-hold with a chirped "I'll go get you some water! Be right back!"

Before the vex could protest, she's already a few steps ahead, leaving him to stare after her with a sigh. It's just how Alsa is— Ever the dotting, attentive mother hen of the clan or any group she's in. Fussing over everyone and making sure nobody is left out, falls behind or is left uncomfortable and neglected, doing all of the chores and work while insisting everyone else to sit back and relax. Even more so when it comes to visitors. 

—"It's been a long time since I last came to the desert.. I guess my body has forgotten how to deal with the heat here." -His mutter is humorous and vaguely nostalgic as he sweeps his eyes over the oasis with a soft smile, watching the clan's younglings play together or hang out while the more solitary ones wander about and keep some distance from their peers.

Glancing up at his friend, Pirin's tone turns teasing as if joking. However the dark-brown furred leader knows far better, catching onto the half-serious edge. Even long after their escapades, he's still been traveling with him frequently enough to know the other pretty well by now; what with being pretty much a near permanent member of the team besides that sassy, big-mouthed knight from Holistone and the Graveborn earl kid with the flowers along with the crafty sailor from Rustport.

Ask him or any of the other three, and you'd get a fairly long spot-on list of traits that their 'magister' has. Or, what some scholars like to call a 'psychological analysis profile'.  

—"Think I can make myself adapt quicker by getting more exposure?" The idea of deliberately standing out in the sun without a drop of water multiple times a day makes Soren scoff, making his thoughts on it evident. Shooting the nocturnal humanoid a stern look of warning, arms crossed over his chest and ears pinning back.

Sometimes, he really wonders just how does this fool's brain work-or doesn't- to come up with conclusions like this one. And many similar ones, each more reckless than the last without a single thought spared about his own safety or health and life.

...With how unpredictable the man tends to be, as well as being heavily inclined to charge right into trouble without warning, every one of the team members had very quickly learnt to keep a close eye on him and to always have at least one of them by his side. 

Don't even think about trying.

—"How about you don't push your luck for once, yeah?" Pirin gives a small humorless laugh, looking guilty as charged. 

—"Kidding, kidding. I'm not going to pull that kind of stunt." Soren however, wasn't amused nor falling for this. That's what you said the last time. 

—"Right. Sure. Whatever you say, Vanyusha." -The nickname makes one of the magister's brows twitch slightly at the corner, a tick of irritation. -"Ludovic sent me a letter two days ago, saying he won't able to make it for our next match." A pause, the gears turning in that pretty head then realization clicks in and a look of astonished surprise flashes across his delicate features, gasping.

—"Noo. Hang on, so you four write to each other to make sure I'm not alone??" Looks like it's Pirin's turn to be befuddled, scowling and fidgets with the hems of his sleeves.  —"Mhm." A frown, the bear meeting it calmly with a faint innocent smirk as he hums. Blinking twice rapidly, the albino 'false Mauler' balks, sputtering in disbelief, earning a nonchalant shrug.  —"Oh come on! I'm not that reckless! I can handle myself."  —"You brought this onto yourself, Little finch. Did you forget the last time you almost died, picking a fight with a group of fishfolk all by yourself? Or when you charged in at some Claws and narrowly got fatally hurt?"

To name a few. 

—"I-" Soon enough the pangolin-like Mauler returns with three bowls, one in each hand and the last one balanced on her head. Whatever attempts at refuting his argument Merlin was about to make die down and he gives up.

—"I'm back! Here you go!" 

Taking the offered bowl of water from her hand, he tips his head in a nod and drinks up, downing it in one go then hands the bowl back to her. Alsa gives him a slightly worried look, taking the empty wooden bowl when he shakes his head at her unspoken question of whether to go get him more. Reluctantly, the woman moves to sit down on the ground with her own bowl. Soren quietly takes his own bowl after finally relenting and sitting down himself next to her, eyes turned to his own meal whilst keeping track of the conversation, ears swiveling and twitching once or twice at times. 

—"I'll probably get teleported to Rustport any moment, but thanks for the water anyhow."  —"Teleported?" The bear-like Mauler's ears twitch twice. 'Huh?' 

—"Okay, I'll keep this short: Merlin put a silly spell on me that teleports me to the places I've visited prior along my journey, and gives me the impulse of hugging people. Also makes me be fully honest and say things I'd rather keep to myself."

Alsa frowns, bewildered and Soren pauses eating to look up, his ears moving back slightly. Both Maulers aren't very happy with the Magister's actions, and uneasy regarding the spell's effects. Reassuring smile playing on his lips, Pirin lifts his hands to brush off the siblings' apprehension, tone light.

"Don't worry, it's nothing that puts me at risk. It'll get lifted when I get back from my 'tour'."

After throwing that piece of helpful intel, the substitute looks down at his palms as he mumbles under his breath in a lamenting whine. "I really hate repeating myself like a parrot.. At least I'll have to say it one last time." 

A tug pulls him out of his musings and he smiles apologetically yet again, then hurries to get his thoughts out before it's too late. 

—"Anyway, very glad I got to see you and the kids again, thanks for hospitality— Sorry for dropping unannounced and the troubles! May try to visit again with no spell but no promises, will try to write you letters. Glad to be home for moment, love you, see you—" 

Pirin disappears into thin air, leaving the two oldest orphans in the tribe of adopted misfits to stare at where he sat seconds ago. It took them a good several moments to figure out what he said. 

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

All it took to find himself standing next to the waypoint crystal in Rustport, was a blink. The waves below this rundown poor coastal town merrily singing their song underneath the gloomy evening skies and salty breeze are a welcome change. What wasn't a nice shift, however, is the equally unforgiving humidity with the added fishy stench that simply follows around practically everywhere.

Immediately, Pirin feels a little light-headed again and overwhelmed- not by another heatstroke, but by sheer sensory overload. The screeching of the gulls overhead, the pungent stink of sewers, decay and not properly washed people, the bustle of the streets--All cranked to a thousand in his ears. The one glaringly massive downside to having a nose and hearing keener than a hunting hound's. Other than that, in a way, this rowdy crime-rife harsh sailors' town is just as stunningly beautiful as any other place on Esperia. 

Ridiculous. I spend a day and a half in more peaceful environments, and now I'm overloaded.

..I guess, that's more than enough. 

"Oohkay, let's get this silly tour done with." -He mumbles to himself under his breath, already feeling that familiar tug dragging him off to the next target on its hugging agenda.

Without a second's hesitation, his feet begin to briskly shuffle ahead and the felled star doesn't even bother with trying to resist. The legs will go wherever they want to go. Weaving through the dirty cobblestone roads and past the elevator leading to Rustport's upper district, within a few moments the town's gates come into view.

Raising his brows questioningly at the spell's pull, Pirin inwardly groans, already knowing where it leads—To Brineville. To Sinbad. 

Oof course it's him. Why did I think I'd go looking for Sonja, Lucca, Nara, or Hugin?

...Hang on a moment.

Aren't they also my allies at least? I mean, I wouldn't go as far as classifying the Carmine Whispers' leader or her guard as a friend per se..but she was a consistent ally. Also Lucca. 

Isn't that how Merlin's dumb little hex works? Yanking him around like a ragdoll to friends and family, both old and new to give them a big ol' warm hug? Oh wait, right—crushes count too. 

The hoodoo follows his heart, not who the mind deems close or as an aide.

A displeased glower curls onto his face. 

The Carmine Whispers didn't so much as grip his heart or interest, merely got tagged as 'cooperators, for now' by his brain and that was that; nothing changed those inner stances, not even witnessing the gang-woman's pains and learning of her tragedies. Same goes for her sister. For all intents and purposes, Nara only got chalked up as a loose cannon to be wary around in his mind.

As for Hugin, the engineer got pretty close to crossing off from 'ally' to 'friend', surprisingly, but still didn't quite get there by the time his adventures ended. Unlike how Alsa, Soren and their clan or Valen and Sinbad pretty much instantly yanked his heart akin to how kindred spirits would. Nevermind that three of these people have attitude, mindset and interests that are completely opposite of his own.  On a spectrum from closest to farthest to him in terms  of personalities, Soren is the most closest with Valen and Sinbad being a little further and Alsa standing on other end.  

Well, the heart sure works in strange ways. And it's so, so very greedy lately.

The clattering, humming and buzzing of Rustport soon give way to the soft sounds of natural wildlife, lanes and pavements traded for muddy pebbled pathways and damp grass. Too bad the stupid spell isn't letting up. With each step along the downtrodden trail sneaking through the dense jungle- like forest, the uncomfortable feeling grows more persistent. It's getting late, and here he is, beelining for the village like some intruder. Try with all his might to will his legs to stop or turn back, Pirin is only met with failure as Merlin's jinx keeps dragging him along without regard or remorse. 

What am I even supposed to say? 'Hey so, I know it's late but I just really had to come over here and give your son a hug. I promise I'm not crazy!'

Tch, as if this kind of nonsense would work. 

A jolt runs through the vampire like a sharp electric shock, similar to how it did upon hearing the Solitaire's voice back in Southville, and his marching strides break into a full-on sprint.

The modest small widows' village comes into view and a very familiar tall blond with it. It seems that the sailor is headed there to check on his mothers and give them what 'haul' he had scrounged up during the day's hustle. 

No, no, no, no- Wait! 

——Two cold arms wrap around his waist with a tightly squeezing embrace, making the swindler's heart leap into his chest and hammer as a strong bout of roaring adrenaline sharply flares. Out of knee-jerk impulse, Sinbad quickly reaches a hand for one of his daggers and prepares to throw a hard kick at the person glued to his back like a post stamp. Or elbow the man and give a nasty punch, anything to break free and fight back—barely stopping himself right on time as the stranger spoke in a soft breathlessly faint tenor that he'd recognize anywhere.

More like frantically yelped 'Friend! Friend! Sorry!', grip tightening in tension instinctively. Good god, a warning would've been really nice! Exhaling a huff as his racing heartbeat calms closer to normal, his squared shoulders drop.

Looking down at his pale friend peering up back at him somewhat shyly, the scarred street-rat's face lights up with a mildly confused but otherwise pleasantly surprised smile— Happy to see him again. Even though he chides the little ghost for scaring him half to death by sneaking up like this out of nowhere, earning himself a guilty look in return.

—"By Tritonus, Pirin! Don't scare me like this! I thought I'm being ambushed by a Wight, or some other thug." An apologetic hum greets him in response, the latter looking down almost like a kicked puppy, murmuring another 'Sorry..' barely above a whisper. Something feels off.

Initial spook fully worn off, the tanned orphan's smile falters, quickly noticing the mildly flushed, clammy skin and how it's warmer than it should be. What did you get yourself into this time, Vanyo..?  

Scratching the back of his head with a hand, the outlaw disentangles from the hug and turns to properly face the doll-like leaner man, brushing off his apology as he gives him a brief cursory look for any other signs of damage.

—"Nah, it's fine. You caught me off-guard, that's all." Pirin winces as Sinbad places a hand on his forehead, getting a little annoyed at being fussed over like a kid and being worried over. "You seem to be running a fever.. I'm no doctor, but it might be a good idea to get you some medicine before this gets bad. How's your stomach, does it hurt? Any leg cramps or nausea?" 

I understand that they're my friends and care about me and all, but seriously! 

—"Sinbad, I'm okay! You don't have to worry about me." -He mutters sourly with a light scowl, pushing the hand away akin to how a cat would paw or swat irritably. "I don't have salmonella, or cholera, there's no need to rush back in town for medicine." 

Great, now I feel like a jerk. 

It's not like the man doesn't have a reason to arrive at the assumption given how often he's seen him jump down in the sewers both during and after their adventures.

First time was to nab the treasures hidden in there and clear out the enemies lurking, second time was when him, Lucca and Sonja discovered the secret passage leading to the Carmine Whispers' base themselves while he had already gone through it, and the third time was to chase down the Don. Gods know what kind of bacteria are in that putrid sewage and anything else nasty, disease-inducing as well. Sighing and playing with the hem of his sleeve, Pirin goes on to elaborate, a bad taste in his mouth at the small outburst he just had.  

—"Look, Merlin and I got into a disagreement which led to the Magister putting a hex on me. And, well, it teleports me around the places I've visited previously during my journey—one of them being a desert. So I got a heatstroke and recovered for the most part but not entirely, hence why my skin is still far warmer than it should be, red as a crab and clammy." 

—"You had a stroke?" And I thought I'm a trouble-magnet!  —"It's not as bad now! I swear I didn't purposefully sit out in the sun!"

Sinbad crosses his arms with a pick in his mouth, clearly not believing his words.

"Okay, I know I've been rather reckless these past few months by charging into scuffles and running in circles around the rhinos near Century Forge. Sure, fine. But I won't deliberately cause myself a heatstroke for no reason. I'm not a masochist."

The scruffy sailor still appears unconvinced but lets the matter slide, letting his arms drop to his sides and rest on his hips as Pirin clears his throat awkwardly. Steering the conversation back to the main point, the magister's stand-in hurriedly moves on to elaborate on the spell; All the while unknowingly waving around his hands and fidgeting with anything that comes briefly into his grasp, physically restraining himself from going for another hug or potential cuddling session and blurting out his thoughts.

All tale-tell signs of being nervous, the look of self-conscious guilt and rapidly reddening face adding to it. Namely, what he's currently doing- One hand gingerly fiddling with the V-line collar of his shirt and lightly digging at the ground with a foot like how a horse would paw, looking off in a direction in their surroundings. A 'gesture' which Sinbad learnt means something like 'Wanna go for a walk?'  Kind of cute. The broke mercenary hums a simple ''mhm.'' as in 'sure', nodding along as his companion carried on speaking so to say 'I'm listening.' without interrupting.

And so they go on to saunter down the muddy path leading to the broken pier at the beach with Pirin walking at a semi-brisk gait while he easily keeps up in-step by his side. Not that the usually quiet mage notices, too caught up chattering. 

—"Anyway, the jinx also makes me impulsively run up to people and hug them, ergo the 'surprise attack' I gave you. At least Rustport is my last stop and this 'free hugs trip' is finally over with. I'm...trying not to yap a lot, although I can't seem to shut my trap, likely another effect of Merlin's spell besides being fully honest." A small, awkward chuckle. "Най-вероятно и като нищо звуча като дървен философ в момента."

Glancing skyward, the seaside savant calmly slides in a response to the comment's last part a bit absently with a slightly tired lilt to his smooth countertenor voice, mind jumping between a thousand different things in the background. Planning out for tomorrow- what potential escape routes to take if things go south and the state of the two 'job' markets, potential clients and actual jobs he can snag- mapping out scenarios...While also currently listening to the shorter man with half-an ear. 

—"You do, yeah. Both actually. No offense." It's not like he doesn't like chatting with the 'magister' or isn't excited to see him again, on the contrary. It's just that today had been particularly long and stressful, and he was sort of on his way home to check on his mothers then crash to get some beauty sleep. So, kind of being low-energy right now. Nothing personal. Eyelids feeling heavy and drooping, Sinbad yawns, covering his mouth with a hand but keeps his casual laid-back smirk intact. The way Pirin winces at noticing his off-key demeanor doesn't elude him, or the self-criticizing assumptions that practically flash across his forehead in massive bold screaming letters.

None of which are correct, by the way.

Naturally, he doesn't say any of them aloud but it's plain as day. Unlike Soren, who doesn't get subtleties and can't read between the lines or read others very well, he can.   Looping an arm around Ioan's narrow boney shoulders, he casually pulls the other into a loose side-hug and jovially taps- or more like pokes- his temple. A show of affection, light playfulness and simply larking with him. 

—"You know I can practically hear your thoughts, right Lark?" The nocturnal critter blinks up at him blankly as if stumped. Both at the offhanded comment and the nickname. On one of the more rainy days, he and the team had ducked into a 'heart-to-heart' corner near the Golden guest. Pirin had hardly noticed when he'd started to hum, then softly whistle, then quietly sing in his native. Until everyone piped down and remained quiet, listening to the last fading notes of his merry tune. Thus the nickname 'lark' sprung. And the team has been mostly using it since, switching it up with 'Little finch' here and there. A silly nickname Soren had coined up due to how "tiny and constantly startled" he is, flitting to and fro.

—"..I wasn't thinking aloud, was I?" 

—"Nope, but you're not being very subtle either." A faint 'ow' escapes from Ioan when he claps him on the shoulder, a short glimpse of a silly, flashy bravado that eases off once again as he explains his current condition. "Let me remind you that you're not an annoying burden on anyone, me included. I'm just tired and today has been rather hectic. This is why I'm not as upbeat or lively like usual. Alright? It's nothing personal."

Still not fully convinced and hesitant, however the flash of relief is a good sign. Thoroughly red-faced, the 'ghost' hurries to look away and holds back an apology, suddenly very shy again. What slips from his lips catches Sinbad by surprise- hardly above a mutter but it's there. And he heard it clearly. No doubt one of the things that Pirin would rather prefer to keep to himself, judging how he immediately tenses up and short-circuits the second he realizes he let that one tumble out like this. Huh. This explains the restlessness recently. 

—"I've gotten rather greedy these days. I've been having this crush on Val for a fortnight now or two, and then I go and develop this dumb crush on you the first day we meet. Worst part is that neither fizzled away at all! It only gets worse. ...Oh no." Guess I'm having competition then. 

"Forget I said anything. Ignore all this, it's gibberish." Sinbad blinks, casting his companion a side-glance, burly eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. A few seconds pass as his mind works to process said 'gibberish', giving the words attention rather than letting them mostly slip right out the other ear after registering like he's been doing for the duration of their friendly talk. 

A slow, teasing smile curls at the corners of his mouth, his grip around the 'finch' tightens ever so slightly, enough to keep Pirin from bolting off. Poor lad freezes up and goes redder than a ripe tomato. Doesn't even notice when or how he veered them towards a nearby palm-tree and pinned him against it loosely, one hand propped on his hip and the other leaned on the trunk over Pirin's head.  

—"Really? Didn't think you had it in you. And here I was, assuming you're just restless by default." Jesting, charmingly affable teasing tone as though shrugging the confession off. Larking in good nature, of course. It's all in good fun.

"So, me and Valen, eh? I'm curious as to which one of us you would pick in the end. The charming knight in shining armor who makes you swoon..." -His voice drops to a seductively low note that still playfully toes the fine precipice of light-hearted chaffing. Creates suspense to keep him on-edge, left to guess his intentions.

"Or would you rather get swept off your feet by this rowdy seadog?" Pirin's breath hitches in his throat, pearly eyes wide as saucers in obvious shocked, disbelieving surprise, heart doing a somersault and a skip.

A part of him knows that the roughish, hardy sailor is only merely pulling his leg and fanning the flames, toying with him to rouse a reaction.

Nothing will come out of it.

But that rational conclusion doesn't stop his heart from hammering like a hummingbird's wings or to squeak "Please do." quietly regardless. Shaking his head to shoo away the stupid fluttering, Pirin puts on a frown of half-hearted annoyance which fails miserably as he backpedals and pushes at his friend's shoulders, looking off to the waves lapping at the coarse beach. "I mean don't. Don't do that."

—"Aannywho, that pretty much wraps my tour-Gotta mousy, soo, see you--" With this sheepish, nervous small laugh and a strained smile, he looks back at the dust-blond seawolf and attempts to slip away out of his grasp like a ferret. Deeming the encounter over, and so out of his depth. Unfortunately the ice-cold hermit doesn't manage to get far, barely a meter, before a hand easily catches him by the scruff of his tailcoat and halts his steps. The tactical retreat has failed spectacularly. 

Where's that bloody hex when I need it??  Why isn't this surprising in the least. The one time the teleporting jinx can be actually useful, it refuses to kick in or stalls horribly. Makes one wonder if this was also a part of Merlin's little scheme all along. It tugs him back, careful not to strangle, his back lightly hitting against the other's chest. That light-hearted lilt of near sing-song mischief is no good. 

—"No, no, hang on. You're not slipping away so easily." Once again Pirin wrestles to compose himself and play it cool, stubbornly refusing to so much as entertain the idea. 

—"You're not into men anyways." -He huffs with a mild scoff, desperately fighting to not react to the shrugging, half-joking remark Sinbad offers him back readily. The memory of when the two of them are sneaking in to infiltrate the Water Wights' camp with Sonja, after disguising as fellow guards resurfaces in his mind's eye like smoke plumes. When bribing that last guard with his favorite fish and the crafty street-rat had effortlessly diverted the goon's attention by waving his suspicious questions off with a made-up story of how they had a round or two of drinks at the tavern in the company of pretty women. He's not interested. How troublesome to have this crush.. 

—"Well, about that. Haven't fooled around to find out yet, so I wouldn't know. We could try, though. And you do pass off as a woman, if someone squints a wee bit. A win-win if you will." Come on, he's just messing with you. 

The 'little finch' gives a wry chuckle then retorts back easily, almost as though challenging in a way, keeping matters anchored within the circle of witty and humorous banter. 'Cause that's all there is to it. 

—"Please. No, I don't. I'm as much of a lassie as you're serious with this." Immediately, a jolt of regret stabs at realizing the sailor wouldn't back down, now that he's been thrown the gauntlet. And boy doesn't Sinbad bite back. Sinbad's tone of voice turns cheekily flirtatious, smidge more daring and bold as he deliberately turns the doll-like shorter man to fully face him, chest to chest, rum-hued gaze holding a gleam of mischief.

In fact, he goes on to up the stakes, placing a tanned hand at the back of Pirin's head and leans in slightly. Throws the ball right back in his court, giving as good as he gets without so much as a hesitance. 

—"And what if I happen to be?" ...I'm cooked. The notion causes his heart to flutter, a sense of excitement and giddiness swirling but he stamps it down in favor of clinging onto denial. 

—"Sinbad, quit bluffing with me." -Is what the mage huffs out in lieu of an answer to the challenge with a stern pout, the no filter honesty having at long last worn off. Once again Pirin is back to his usually composed, somber, steely and aloof quiet self, keeping a card or three close to his chest and six more in his sleeves. Recognizing this shift as his cue to step down, the blond young man pulls back, his embrace mellowing to a loose hug. Then lets go, smirk easing up back to one of plain laid-back friendliness. Although his eyes still hold the lingering embers of vivacious and daring teasing, the flirt is relatively toned down to almost zero that's well within affable territory. And besides, the magister's disgruntled hiss wasn't a flat-out rejection but more of a diversion than anything else. Which leaves the door open to possibilities. 

—"Fine, fine. I gotcha." -He concedes, raising his hands in placating mock-surrender before letting them drop at his sides. Looking after Pirin's retreating form as the vampire begins to stalk off towards the waypoint crystal in Brineville, Sinbad gives a few moments of quiet before following suit up the path. 

Standing in front of the gloomy purple glassy stone, Pirin reaches out a hand and takes a step forward.

—"Vanya."

He pauses and turns to look over his shoulder as the rascal's voice calls out to him. The smile in it is clear.  Yep. Merlin was right to call you a punk. It feels like time comes at a stand-still, the world and everything else along with it falling into the background. Just two friends and brothers in arms standing face to face at a small distance. The adventures had ended as quickly as they had started, passed in a whirlwind blur of events, and yet they had still become each other's most trusted confidant. How funny that is.. It's almost like we beat Hodgkin and solved the crisis plaguing Rustport only yesterday. This one definitely feels much shorter than the mishaps in the Ashen Wastes. Or was I so tunnel-visioned on getting the job done that I didn't notice time go by? 

"If you change your mind, let me know. Drinks will be on me." -The disheveled sailor half-jokes with a wink and that iconic snazzy smirk of his. 

—"Don't make promises you can't keep, my friend. I already know that I'll be the one paying the tab next time we go to a tavern." Like always, given how poor ole Sinbad is always perpetually moneyless. 

Said man gives him a lighthearted 'you know me too well' look with a small chuckle and the two of the bid each other goodbye. 

Touching the stone, Pirin vanishes. 

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

Here is a translation for the word(s) and sentences/phrases in bulgarian that Pirin didn't translate: -> Диване – Rascal. It can also be used as in 'fool' or for a naïve person. However I used it here more in the context of Merlin doing or saying nonsense. -> Дървен философ - Someone who is only bark and no bite, or just talks empty words while sounding 'profound' or 'deep'. What Pirin mean with it is something along the latter, or like endless yapping. -> Най-вероятно и като нищо звуча като дървен философ в момента. - I'm probably also sounding like saying empty words right now.

[star-going-supernova]

I just thought of a banger fic idea for you.

What if Freddy is glitching and malfunctioning and the only way to combat it is for Gregory to be with him as it’s the only thing that comforts him. It ends up with Freddy carrying a half asleep Gregory around and giving everyone a red eyed glare when they look at him for too long as his systems are slowly rebooting.

Honestly the idea of Freddy, who is arguably one of the most dangerous animatronics when angry, gently holding his small fragile child while out of it hits just right.

They’re like bonded cats basically. You can’t separate them or else.

Coming at you with tumblr generated prompt number 55! We’ve got some Outsider POV in this one! 

Unspoken Things

Jamie had been a tech in Parts and Services for almost four years, and she’d earned her promotion to head technician for the band. Most days, she enjoyed her job, or at least didn’t hate it. The animatronics were fairly agreeable to work with, and it was rare for her to be faced with a problem bigger than mild exterior damage or little bug fixes. It probably wasn’t surprising that she saw Monty and Roxy more than Freddy and Chica. Dings from golf balls and dents from go karts were daily occurrences. 

But even rare errors did occur, and that was why Jamie was currently running around the pizzaplex in a growing panic, looking for Freddy. 

She didn’t know what had caused it, just that he had malfunctioned badly and in such a way that his aggression had been triggered. He’d already taken out two endos and three STAFF bots, and the last thing she needed was him going after a human next. The only reason he hadn’t gotten his hands on any of her techs was because Monty got between him and them, and was in his own repair bay now as a result.

Freddy’d taken off, literally breaking down a door to escape, before she could get him hooked up to her equipment. Which meant a strong, fast, angry animatronic was loose in the pizzaplex. 

If I was an out-of-control animatronic, where would I go? she asked herself. She hurried to the edge of the mezzanine, half pleased, half dismayed to find the atrium empty of Freddy. 

She had a small army of her techs searching as well, and the radio silence from their end meant he wasn’t in Rockstar Row or the band’s personal areas of Parts and Services. Unless he was roaming around the basement, Freddy being in a public space was becoming more likely. 

Jamie blew out an aggrieved sigh. She better not lose her job over this. 

It was just as she was turning to go check either the west arcade or Fazer Blast, other places that Freddy might be likely to visit while not in his right mind, that she overheard both the best and worst news. 

“Yeah, Eve said Gregory brought her a birthday gift. And, like, that’s sweet enough, but he somehow tracked down her cat.” 

“The one that’s been missing for two months?” 

“Yeah! So anyway, there’s a cat in the daycare today.” 

Look, if there was one thing Jamie’s job at the ’plex had taught her, it was when to keep her mouth shut and just accept things. Don’t ask questions about this, don’t point out that, just accept them. Gregory was only the most recent of those things. She didn’t know who he was, where he came from, or why the band had such an attachment to him. She never heard of or saw his parents, and he was in the building at all hours. He had the highest VIP pass known to man with permissions that Jamie was sure didn’t exist on any other VIP pass. 

And not only was Freddy Gregory’s favorite of the animatronics, but Gregory was Freddy’s favorite child. Favorite person, probably. Which meant that if Gregory was in the building, she knew exactly where to find a Freddy who was operating without any protocols or complex thought processes. 

Ambushing the two employees she’d overheard, she demanded, “Where is Gregory now?” 

• • •

Jamie’s heart gave a concerning stutter when she finally found Gregory. For Freddy had found him first. 

She hesitated, unsure if getting closer would set Freddy off—because for the moment, he seemed calm. And Gregory was fine, chatting away without a care in the world. 

He was situated in Freddy’s arms, one braced beneath him and the other wrapped around his back. He’d be dead in seconds if Freddy squeezed. 

Keeping an eye out for any hint of aggression, Jamie slowly approached the pair. Freddy, predictably, spotted her first. His irises flickered between blue and red as he watched her with an unnervingly blank stare. That the blue of his eyes had returned at all after the malfunction occurred was heartening. 

Gregory paused and frowned at Freddy before twisting to see what he was looking at. He waved. 

“Good afternoon, Gregory,” Jamie said, trying to remain calm. 

“Hi,” he said. “You work in Parts and Services.” 

“That’s right. I don’t think we’ve properly met before. My name’s Jamie, and I’m the band’s head technician.” 

“Cool.” 

She smiled. “Very cool, yeah.” 

“Is something wrong with Freddy?” he asked before she could figure out how to broach the subject. “He hasn’t said anything, which is really weird.” He frowned again at Freddy, whose eyes had settled on red. 

“Well spotted,” she said, stopping a few feet away. “Freddy experienced a malfunction earlier and ran off before we could figure out what happened.” She hesitated, not sure if she should mention that the glitch’s main side effect was severe aggression. She didn’t want to scare the boy, especially since there was nothing she could reasonably do to help him. 

Then again, Freddy was holding him carefully, not an ounce of violence to be seen when not half an hour ago, he did his level best to rip apart anything that got in his way. 

Taking a chance, Jamie said, “He was pretty unhappy earlier, but it looks like you’ve made him feel better.” Hoping she wasn’t literally dooming a child, she asked, “How would you feel about staying with Freddy while we fix him up?” 

“Sure,” Gregory said easily. He looked up at Freddy, in a calculating sort of way, before he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Freddy’s neck. 

Incredibly, some of the ramrod stiff tension in Freddy’s body loosened up. The red didn’t go away, but he stopped staring Jamie down. And when she started to lead the way back to Parts and Services via the employee-only hallways, he followed placidly. 

That was how it went for the entirety of the repair. Freddy never put Gregory down, holding him in some way or another, and an honestly terrifying growl rumbled out of his voice box the one time someone made an attempt to separate them. Gregory didn’t complain—in fact, at some point, Jamie looked up and found him nodding off, head resting against Freddy’s shoulder. 

There was a fascinating dichotomy of tension and ease in the air, everyone simultaneously worried for the boy caught in the animatronic’s grasp and less stressed because of his presence. Freddy paid little attention to anyone unless they stared too long or got too close to Gregory. 

It was blatantly protective behavior, and Jamie had no idea where it had come from or why it was so strong that even malfunction-caused aggression didn’t supersede it. 

Just another of those unspoken things. 

Finally, the manual code repairs were made, and Jamie initiated a soft reboot to enact them. As the update slowly progressed, Freddy didn’t lose his grip or his intensity. 

It was unnerving, in a way, nearly as much as it was sweet. Never had Freddy’s hands been anything less than gentle with Gregory, but that did not change the fact that his hands had inhuman strength. It was a bit like watching a lion curl around a house kitten and knowing that kitten could easily fit in the lion’s mouth. 

Jamie smiled and shook her head. And as Freddy finally cycled into a brief shutdown, she dared reach over and lightly tousle Gregory’s hair. He shifted but didn’t wake. 

“Thanks for your help today, kid,” she whispered, getting to her feet. She’d stick around just long enough to make sure Freddy was doing fine, but then she’d leave them to their rest. She figured they both deserved it. 

[maoluxury]

⚠️ Cannibalism//Theme sensible⚠️

(This is based on an hc I have of the character Affogato from Cookie Run Kingdom, I don't consider it very explicit but I still put the caution, nothing is canon)

(English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if you do not understand some parts of it

I hope you enjoy it :DD)

(OH AND I HOPE TO READ THAT YOU LIKED IT ✨)

The smell of incense wafted through the room and Affogato had his disciples separated into several rows of 5 by 5 who stood kneeling on the floor, waiting expectantly for their master's words.

- This has been a very moving meeting... The fact that you have learned so much from me fills me with pride," he said with a smile.

The disciples remained silent with their eyes a little low respecting the silence that was given to their mentor, Affogato widened his smile and went down the small staircase and walked the row in sepulchral silence, the only thing that could be heard were his steps and rustling of the fabric of his clothes, the brunet passed his eyes one by one of the young people of tender and appetizing skin... They were all so appetizing, all were like to devour them whole in the same room.

When Affogato reached the end of the rows, seeing the backs of everyone, he turned on his heels to the table of exquisite sweets prepared at each meeting, grabbed two chocolate bonbons and put one in his mouth, delighting in the sweet and full of sugar flavor that counteracted the bitter and tasteless food of that kingdom; He held the second chocolate between his fingers and went back through the rows until he stopped in front of a young disciple, no more than 20 years old, with a sharp face and the blindfold firmly fastened, he raised his face putting his finger on his chin and put the chocolate candy in his mouth and asked him in murmurs to feel and enjoy the taste.

The young man savored the taste of the sugar between his lips and still without saying a word he smiles at his master who bends down and brings his face close to the ear of the young man of dark complexion and white clothes.

- I would like to see you in my room tonight... You have earned the honor of my teaching you something very special...

The young man raises his eyebrows in surprise, he does not speak because he does not have his master's permission to do so, but his face lights up with illusion and he bows in gratitude.

- You more than anyone else have stood out from all your peers and tonight will be to take you to another level from which you will finally be allowed to remove the blindfold from your eyes.

The young apprentice felt a thrill run through him as removing the blindfold or allowing himself that luxury in front of his master only meant that he had achieved the degree of confidence and teaching that he had been practicing for years.

- Master... - the disciple began to say.

Affogato silenced him softly whispering a "shhh..." and smiled at him, then he walked back to the beginning of the rows and gave the order to get up; all like the automatons got up and bowed to their master and very disciplined and in silence they left the room one by one, a last look to the selected disciple before leaving to do their work.

Once alone Affogato uncoiled his snake tail that encircled his waist, the mere idea that the day had come to taste human flesh delighted him and provoked in his body a heat that could be compared to excitement since repressing such impulses was an odyssey for his bestial body that now had to bear the animal impulses of the desire to devour the beings that serve him and follow his orders, but could nature be blamed? Nature that did not ask to have her conceived but from which she would only please the most primitive instincts of her body.

Little by little the night was falling and the torches of the corridors were lit illuminating the icy corridors of which the icy cold of the eternal winter was seeping through the windows, the tapping of the base of Affogato's staff echoed as he walked with his look and a slight smile on his face his light steps reached the door of his room from which he took the key to open it and entered without much haste closing the door behind him, undoing part of the heavy winter coats a huge boa came out of one of the corners hissing without threats crawling to his master, slowly climbing his body and head and crawling to be greeted with a caress and a kiss from the brown who is used to greet his beloved pet in that way; The huge snake that was no more and less than four meters long seemed apparently harmless in front of the counselor and went back to his corner to rest and coil up again because he knew, like his master, that tonight was a very special dinner.

The time was agreed and Affogato was wearing a light purple gwanbok with a black bandage as a belt whose clasp in the center was his symbol, his headdress was removed from his hair and the hair was gathered in a low bun quite elegant lighting an incense on the bedside table next to his hanbok and breathing deeply inhaling the smell of his incense letting it run through his whole body and flowing in his mind the idea and desire of what will happen tonight.

They knocked on the door, politely the disciple entered and bowed in front of his master, Affogato who was sitting on his knees just turned his head to see him and nodded for him to come closer, the brunet stood up and slowly approached towards the boy who was moderately shorter than him, Affogato made a gesture with his hand and passing them behind the nape of the young man's neck he removed the purple bandage that had been carried for years, the young man could appreciate the ivory colored irises of his master and those slit pupils that were inherited from his tribe. Since the room was illuminated by candles the young man had not noticed the huge snake tail of his master that crawled with the silence of a whisper but the small reptilian scales that stood out slightly from Affogato's face to the translucence of the candles, nor did he notice the dangerous animal that was in a high corner watching him and waiting to be given the order to dine.

- My faithful boy..." Affogato began, taking the trusting young man as far as the light could project them both, "From among my disciples I have chosen you in a special way for a small celebration that I honor every month. There is nothing that fills me with more joy than to share this with someone so loyal.

The young man listened in disciplined silence, Affogato invited him to sit and they both kneeled down and sat facing each other, listening to the howling of the wolves patrolling outside the huge wall.

- Today you are my guest - Affogato said politely - let me spoil you with a delicious cup of tea, so we can have our celebration.

Affogato got up and went for a beautiful porcelain teapot decorated and painted with beautiful elderflowers and two black porcelain chatjan cups commonly used in traditional celebrations; pouring the hot tea delicately and almost ceremonially he leaves the teapot on his left and toasts to the health of both of them.

- Affogato… - finally speaks the young man as he already had the confidence to do so - I am grateful that you have considered me to spend this evening with you and continue to honor you, I have dedicated myself at an early age to follow your philosophy and serve you.

- Yes... - answered Affogato - you were a little boy when you arrived at the castle gates and I decided to give you shelter and protection under my arms, you were not even fifteen years old and I taught you to be a strong young man... Prepared for life.

- I believe that I will never be able to pay in life this debt of your kindness, my lord....

- Perhaps not in this life, my dear, but there is something special in this ceremony with which you can repay.

- Anything for you, my master - sighed the young man moving a little closer to the brunet with outstretched arms - my whole life would not be the same if I had never followed the path of your wisdom.

Affogato smiled and looks at his disciple whose eyes look crystalline as if he was about to cry from the happiness that gave him remembering every teaching and patience of his master but he had to control his impulses, he lowers his arms and stiffens again taking a deep breath and apologizing for his altered emotion, Affogato says nothing because his eyes are fixed on the delicious skin of the young man hiding under those clothes, a young and tender skin, with a taste as sweet as cake and tender as freshly made butter, the slices of meat he imagined devouring, the blood that would drip down his neck and not only stain the delicate fabrics but also splash on the floor, the thought of all that made his mouth water so he took a long sip of tea to hide the growing hunger that was pounding in his chest.

Once the tea was finished Affogato approached his disciple and put his hand on his chest with a somewhat haughty look he opened his lips to ask…

- Are you willing to let him eat you?

The young man was shocked by that question and incredulously didn't know what to answer since he was referring to... Was he really just going to devour? Like a piece of meat?

And before answering he already had Affogato on top of him, grabbing his wrists, nailing his claws and using his strong snake tail to seize his torso and exerting so much pressure that you could hear little by little the breaking of each of the ribs of the poor disciple who coughed blood and tried to scream and move from the pain, making guttural sounds and moving his head up and stretching his neck in a failed attempt to breathe but it was useless, very useless, Affogato exerted an overwhelming pressure.

- You have given me the honor of devouring your body - sighed the man in a hoarse voice - my hunger can only be limited to savoring one of you once a month and that is why tonight makes it very special... You who are my prey I will delight myself with your young body and your flesh, I will chew, tear every muscle, fiber and break the bones of such an exquisite dinner that very few times I have the luxury of giving myself such pleasure.

Small strands of saliva dripped from the corner of the brunet's lip while he smiled showing his sharp snake fangs, his animalistic intent and growing hunger made him jump straight to the face of his victim and tear off his skin with a jerk staining with blood the surroundings of the hair of the young man killed by suffocation and Affogato chewed with delight the delicious flesh of the one who once followed him loyally and followed his orders now was turned into the dinner of a counselor whose hybrid condition filled his palate with ecstasy, He licks ruby that had fallen on the neck and rips off clothes that the young man would never wear again and continues to lick the thick blood with his while his hands are placed on the chest of the youngest and with his strength he opens it exposing the cracked and almost crushed ribs over the heart and lungs, Affogato plunges his face into that open bed and rips out part of the heart with his sharp teeth and chews it organ by organ, tearing it to shreds, the heart is a small paste of guts as well as the lungs, Meanwhile the dark-haired man licked his fingers full of blood and wiped with his wrist and sleeves of his clothes the blood on his cheeks, he sighed relieved and sat down next to the corpse looking at it with a smile and stroking his arms, stretching his hands towards the dry eyes and sinking his nails to take them out of his beads and put them in his mouth like delicious candies.

Approaching the arm and between bites and bites manages to tear it and call his snake with slight hissing which did not take long to approach his master and open his big mouth to receive the food given by his owner which pushed back to swallow it and have it a good time in his stomach to digest it slowly, Affogato also decided to give his pet what was the part of the liver and stomach to the huge boa that devoured them gratefully.

His desire goes down to the torso and biting hard he takes huge slices of the young man's right thigh which he devours in one gulp just like a real snake, he loved it, the taste was so sweet, he could feel the warmth of this blood trickle down his chin and reach his chest staining his sleeping clothes and the warm dark wooden floor, he gasps unconsciously as the tingling of his nature made him get slightly hot, was devouring not a sign of passion? Even for the most elegant dinners he devours and tastes full of passion the palate desiring more and more.

It was already past eleven o'clock at night and Affogato was sitting on the ground next to the corpse of which only bones and carrion of the skin remained stuck to them, caressing with his fingertips the head of his docile pet, both satisfied with the rich feast they had feasted on beside a floor stained almost dry, the huge boa whose scales glistened in the light of the candles that had not yet burned out, rested a quarter of his body in his master's lap and the rest was rolled up at his side.

The night had gone as planned, the counselor was happy and no one would ever know or suspect the slightest of his secrets.

A good night.

Who will be next month?

[racinginchid3nt]

Happier Than Ever | Part Five

Y/N x Pierre Gasly, Y/N Best Friend x Lance Stroll

Whirlwind romances with professional athletes certainly have their perks, or do they?

Inspired by Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish

Warnings:

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

Sunday night Y/N texted to let you know that she had moved up her flight and gone home. Rushing to call her, your message went straight to voicemail, a sign that she had turned her phone off.

It took three more days before Y/N Best Friend returned your calls.

“Y/N I am so relieved to here your voice. I know that you prefer to handle things on your own, but please please never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“You’re sorry? Babe you didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to be sorry about. Are you okay?”

“Physically or mentally?” She asked.

“Both!”

“I have a broken rib and had to get stitches in my foot.”

“What do you need me to do? I can get on a plane right now! Do you need me to order you groceries to your apartment? How can I help until I get there?” You asked.

“No no don’t come! You don’t need to come.”

“I DO need to come. Someone needs to take care of you Y/N!”

“Someone already is…” She whispered.

“Y/N what does that mean?”

“Lance is here.”

“Lance is where?”

“Lance is here. In Barcelona. In my apartment right now.”

“Lance is at your apartment?” You asked, the shock evident in your voice.

“Uh yeah, he showed up Sunday night out of nowhere and he forced me to the clinic.” She replied.

“Remind me to send Lance a fruit basket.” You laughed.

The two of you chatted a bit longer, you repeatedly asking if she was sure that you didn’t need to rush to her side. Wrapping up the call, you made her promise to text you at least once a day, or you would barge into her apartment like Lance had.

————————————————————————

Sunday

The Italian GP had been incredible. While you certainly couldn’t root for Max, watching him win his tenth race in a row had been exhilarating. And the back and forth between Charles and Carlos towards the end had been some of the most exciting racing you had seen all season.

Pierre’s race had gone poorly, the Alpines both running bad. Lance has done even worse, earning himself a P16. He had avoided you all weekend, despite your repeated attempts to thank him for helping Y/N Best Friend. You hoped you could corner him after media, a task he couldn’t skip. But as the interviews wore on and he failed to show up to the media pen, you wondered if he was skipping? Could he do that? If anyone was able to I guess it would be him. He could afford to pay whatever fee the FIA imposed on him.

As you watched the rest of the after race interviews, you couldn’t help but smile looking at Charles. It had been a hard season for the Ferrari diver, and you couldn’t remember the last time he had seemed genuinely happy after a race despite not landing on the podium.

That was where Pierre found you after his press duties. He grabbed your hand and kissed you heavily, taking your breathe away. Dazed you failed to look up at him, missing the angry look on his face as he dragged you back to the paddock.

————

The two weeks between races passed in relative ease. You and Pierre returned to his home in Milan for the short break.

He spent the time working out harder than ever, cycling in the sauna and racing on the sim. Singapore was known for its oppressively warm humid weather every year, and the drivers often went above and beyond to prep for it.

As soon as you stepped off the plane you were sweating. You had never experienced weather link this, and you hoped that the fact that the race was at night would mean it would be a bit more mild.

————

Thursday

You woke up in the hotel room alone on Thursday morning. Checking your phone you saw it was already past lunch, the jet lag having taken its effect on your sleep schedule.

Pulling out your phone, you saw a text.

Replying to his text you out your phone away and made you way to the shower to get ready for the rest of the day.

You spent an hour video calling Y/N Best Friend, talking about the race weekend and what you had planned. This was the longest you had spoken to her since the last race, and it was nice to see her, even if it was through the phone.

When you brought up how she had spent the last two weeks with Lance, a small smile graced her face.

“You so like Lance.”

“It’s not like that.”

“I don’t know why you’re lying! It is totally like that. You LIKE LIKE him Y/N Best Friend! You smile whenever I mention him.” You chastised.

A blush colored her cheeks, supporting your theory even more.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to get too attached to him is all.” She replied.

“I think it’s a little late for that Y/N Best Friend. He’s obviously attached to you.”

“No he’s just being a friend.”

“Babe, friends don’t take private jets to their friends houses and move themselves in for days at a time to make sure their friends are okay.”

As you thought through your statement, a feeling of regret came over you.

“Hey Y/N Best Friend?”

“Yeah Y/N?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to Barcelona. I love Pierre and traveling and everything that comes with it, but I hate that it means I wasn’t there for you.”

“Y/N…. I know. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you that I left Saturday night. I just needed some time to really process on my own. Please don’t feel bad about it.”

She quickly turned the conversation to something lighter, discussing the upcoming race and what you were planning to wear.

————

“Babe? Are you here?” Pierre’s voice called out.

“Yeah in here!”

He walked up to you, giving you a gentle kiss.

“Did you get up to anything fun today?”

“No I’ve been hanging out in the room. I talked to Y/N Best Friend for a bit but that’s all.” You replied.

“Do you want to go do something fun?” He asked, eyes twinkling.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked.

“It’s a surprise! Change into some workout clothes.”

————

Pierre had a called for a car to bring you to the surprise while you changed. Sliding into the backseat, he closed the door behind you, before joining you in the backseat.

The car ride took about 20 minutes, going through the city and into the surrounding smaller towns. As you went further and further from the hotel, you wondered where you could be going.

The car stopped in a gravel parking lot, trees and foliage surrounding the area. Pierre opened the door from you, whispering something to the driver, before grabbing a backpack from the trunk of the car. As you looked around at the signs you saw km markers, and arrows pointing in various directions.

“Where are we?” You asked.

“We’re going on a hike.” He replied, smiling.

The hike in its entirety took only 25 minutes, only a few kilometers in length. The two of you chatted as you walked, talking about what had happened at media day and how excited Pierre was for some of the changes made to the car for the race.

The further you walked, the trees started to clear and lead to an opening. As you got closer, Pierre reached for your hand, dragging you towards the edge of the trail. You were standing on the top of a small hill, overlooking the coastline.

He stopped and opened up the backpack, pulling out a small blanket and laying it out. He reached inside and pulled out a small cooler. He had packed for a picnic, sandwiches, bottled water, and some type of cake. When you finished your sandwiches, you turned your focus to dessert.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Pandan cake. The green comes from the pandan.” He replied.

The taste was unlike anything you had ever tried. Coconuty and hints of banana flavor.

“Where did you find this?” You asked.

He launched into a story about a video that they had filmed that morning for the alpine socials, trying various foods from Singapore and rating them on a scale of 1-10.

You carried on with your chatting, watching the Sun begin to set over the horizon.

————————————————————————

A/N: I got multiple messages from people who were NOT happy with Pierre’s behavior. Do we think this makes up for it at all?

Also, if you haven’t yet read the Lance Stroll x Y/N Best Friend story line yet, you can find part one here

[neuroprincess]

Past, present and future - The Conversation (Chapter 5)

Emily Prentiss/Female Reader

Fanfic Chapter List

Summary: The agents on an old case become the target of a criminal group seeking revenge, and Emily returns after four years, thinking she doesn’t have much to lose until she learns about a part of her past that has been denied.

Warnings: A little angst, anxiety crisis, OC (original character)

Word count: +3800

Unrevised chapter

Lilibet's eyes are sweet and curious, there is depth and intensity in the gaze of such a little person. The eyelashes are long, thick and lovely, giving an even more angelic and expressive appearance. And remind Emily, they share the same shade of chocolate brown, which easily earn Y/N in just a few seconds staring at her with an adorable pout, this always makes her want to hug the little girl and fill her with kisses. In fact those eyes are the woman's greatest weakness, because she can never say no to the little princess. She is her weak point. Another thing the little girl shares with the chief is her smile, straight teeth, dimpled cheeks, and when she smiles, lips formed in a way that highlights her heart-shaped mouth. It's one of the most adorable features of the little one, along with all the other hundreds of features the mother can list as she faces her daughter about to fall asleep on her hotel bed, wrapped in a thin colorful blanket and hugging her plush teddy bear. Lilibet is having trouble sleeping after all that has happened and with the little nap on the way, it had not been long or quality, but enough. When this happens the brunette becomes sly and difficult to deal with, also a bit moody, so all that is left for Y/N to do is use her secret weapon, lullabies. "Hush Little Baby", "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", "All the Pretty Little Horses", "Mary Had a Little Lamb", "The Wheels on the Bus" and "Row, Row, Row Your Boat". She sang one by one hugging Lili, caressing her dark hair and thinking how lucky she is to have her in arms, how every second counted so she could act, not even wanting to imagine what would happen if she didn't get there in time.

So many years working at Interpol and also at the BAU have made her realize that even though she is not in a job that requires guns constantly she has decided that she must protect her small family safe from the evils that surround them, from horrible people just like the ones she has had to deal with and possible retaliation from the past. Although Clyde has given her a clean record and a safe place, she can't ignore the fact that those monsters she has imprisoned or their partners may seek revenge. So that's why she decided to keep a gun at home, making sure it was always locked up and out of Lilibet's sight. She knew that she would need to be prepared in case any kind of emergency occurred and also to ensure their safety, determined not to allow her daughter to have to go through anything like what she went through before, in the end it only served to protect them because now she knows that even at a very young age Lili will probably carry marks from that day forever.

- How I wonder what you are... - she whispers the last verse of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", the girl's favorite and sung for the third time in the night.

After two hours of fighting against sleep Lilibet finally falls asleep, her plush teddy bear pressed against her chest, face relaxed, body light and her breathing becoming calm as the minutes pass. Mother pulls the blanket over her body, covering her carefully and gently, placing a loving kiss on the little forehead before settling down beside her. But then, only after ensuring that her daughter is all right, can she deal with her own demons. Images from the day before take over mind like a movie that repeats itself several times, like when someone loses the remote control and is forced to watch the same bad channel over and over again. She sees herself running down the halls, the gun in trembling hand, the adrenaline high, the steps fast. She finds herself desperately trying to reach the room where Lili was, the panic and fear of losing her daughter consuming her, and then the familiar sound of gunshots, then red, very red mixed into the wooden floor of the foyer as the child stood there, standing. And she constantly watches herself reliving that moment, unable to change the channel, unable to pull out those memories along with all the unassimilated feelings and sensations.

Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling fan spinning at medium speed, on the city lights vaguely illuminating the dark room, attentive to the muffled noises coming from the ground floor seven stories below, and to those in the corridor where she is, memorizing the footsteps of the security guards, worrying about anyone different from them. But the dry thuds against the floor are more familiar than Y/N would like to admit, instead of knocks on the door she hears the metallic sound of keys against the lock and the knob turning next. She curls up in bed pressing the blankets even tighter against her chest, unable to look at the door and who has entered. She hears heels, but her mind refuses to believe the safe possibility and goes into another alert mode, survival speaking louder than reason. Her heart beats harder to the point where she could swear to hear it, hands sweat and she felt paralyzed, trapped in her own instrusive thoughts. When a hand touches a shoulder, Y/N trembles even more and her heart speeds up to the point of feeling almost pain, which makes her tear up, tears caught in the edges of the eyes. Y/N's hands tremble and she feels even more paralyzed against the bed, she feels helpless as if she is stuck in a maze of thoughts, unable to find a way out to free herself and suddenly back to square one, desperate. The woman still can't turn to look at who is there, but something inside her calms a little as she hears Emily's calm, familiar voice.

- Hey, hey... Relax, it's just me, Emily. - the brunette whispers taking the hand off her shoulder and moving to hold her in a tight hug, pulling the body against her own as Y/N stifles a cry in the curve of the chief's neck so she doesn't wake the child sleeping next to her - It's okay. Calm down, it's okay.

Emily has arms tightened around her, it is cozy and comforting, her touch is soft, Y/N can recognize the scent of the brunette's usual perfume as well as the shampoo as the strands rub against her face. Even though they were divorced years ago she can feel the familiarity and comfort of being in her arms, Emily still knows how to soothe her. She can feel the strength around, it somehow makes her feel protected, so her body slowly relaxes, allowing Y/N to snuggle even tighter against her ex-wife's body, hear her whispering in ear that everything is okay now while thin and gentle fingers caress her head slowly until breathing normalizes and her body stops shaking, the tears have stopped making eyes burn so much when they dry.

- I'm here, no one will hurt you. You don't have to be afraid, you're safe... - Emily's voice is clear, calm and gradually makes the woman relax, slowly the bad thoughts dissipating as she concentrates on the voice that continues to speak reassuring words, bringing her back to the present - - Are you okay now? - Emily asks gently, looking at her with a worried expression in eyes, the same expression she indentifies in her daughter every time she looks at her now and it made Y/N break into tears.

- I don't know, I still don't know. - she whispers, voice almost inaudible not wanting to leave her chest as she separates from the chief, moving quickly to check on the daughter, but seeing her peaceful appearance and in deep sleep reassures herself. Y/N looks over her shoulder to Emily, still seeing concern in her face - I don't know what was going on, but... thank you.

- You're welcome. - Emily nods, putting her hand lightly on Y/N's shoulder - I think it was an anxiety crisis. Are you ok now? If you need anything, I'm here. - she says gently, looking into Y/N's eyes and trying to give a smile, unsuccessfully, her heart aches to imagine what the former agent is going through and the child too - We can talk about it, if you want.

Y/N wipes the tears away and swallows hard, trying not to cry again. She turns to Emily, trying to keep a neutral expression, hiding her feelings of pain, fear and helplessness.

- I'm fine, thank you. - she says, forcing a smile. - Don't worry, it's nothing. I'll be fine in time. Now, let's talk about what we had planned.

- Are you sure you're well enough to talk about it? If you don't want to talk about it now, we can postpone the conversation. - Emily sighs and approaches carefully, gently trying to touch Y/N's shoulder again, but she pulls away, her hard gaze making it clear that she is not ready for contact - I understand, don't worry.

- No. No, I'm fine. - she replies, keeping a firm voice as she can, directing the topic - So, have you read Lili's entire file? Are there any questions that need to be clarified? Anything you'd like to know?

The brunette is silent for long seconds, head down as her mind fills with mixed feelings as she hears her talking about this topic with a certain distance and coldness in voice, Emily feels a combination of sadness and guilt, because if Lili is really her daughter, then she has missed important growing up years, all those first moments like first steps, word, school day, first soccer game or whatever she does as a hobby, as well as birthdays. She was not there to hold her and help blow out the candles. Emily sighs deeply, aware that she may never have the chance to make up for lost time, nor would there be any way to go back in the past and try to do something different, because if there was she would definitely do it. She raises her head, looking at Y/N, and swallows dryly settling herself on the bed. Her jaw is tense and she tries to struggle to formulate something decent, non-invasive, trying to find the right words to express her feelings, but she can't.

- I know the file tells some things about her, but... does she have something she likes to do? Something she loves? Favorite color? - the chief bites the tongue, feeling suddenly silly for having asked so many trivial questions when there is a big question in the middle.

- I thought the first thing you would do is question motherhood. - Y/N laughs and sits down on the end of the other bed facing her ex-wife - Let's start from this point.

- Okay, so, how? I left and you were already pregnant? But our last attempt was months earlier. - Emily tries to do the mental math between her going to London and Lilibet's birth, remembering the time period between their last attempt to get pregnant and her leaving, the question on her mind from the moment she read the file - And we had negative results.

- One week and a few days before you left I secretly tried one last chance, two after you left for London came the positive. I called you.

- And I never answered. - the woman completes in a shaky voice - I don't question being or not being Lilibet's mother, I believe you. Besides, she's the personification of the Prentiss.

- That's true, she has those eyes and smile of yours, the nose is clearly of Elizabeth. - Y/N squares her shoulders and turns to face her daughter, knowing she could never deny her genetic heritage when a small version of her ex-wife is lying there wrapped in the blankets -- If you want, we can do a DNA test, also, I still have all the documents of the fertilization clinic. - she suggests, with care in temper.

Emily sighs and nods reluctantly in agreement, staring at the child behind Y/N, her heart tightens and there is a strange weight in the pit of stomach. She feels the need to get closer, to know Lili's personality and way of being, to better understand who she is, who she can become. To know the little girl's world.

- I wish I was here with you Y/N, when you were pregnant with Lilibet and her growth. I wish I could have been a part of that. But, unfortunately, I can't change the past. - the brunette's body is trembling and she feels the sweat starting to run down her hands -- And I know that no matter how hard I beg you won't forgive me so easily. So I can only ask. Can you tell me how it all went? What were your symptoms when you thought you were pregnant? How did you find out? I want to know more about Lilibet.

The former agent sighs, feeling suddenly sick, everything that has happened in the last few days is simply too much, first the attack, that man, meeting her ex-wife again after 4 long years, Emily discovering their daughter and consequently probably returning to her life just as she once arrived. She looks at Lilibet behind her, eyes gazing at her baby with love and admiration, it's a little human being that she wanted so much and brought into the world. And even though Emily Prentiss didn't know it, she was a part of that process. Y/N understands that despite the hurts and events no matter what happened in the past for now, what really matters is Lili. She turns to Emily again, nodding.

- You're right, Prentiss. I won't forgive you so easily, but for me what matters right now is Lilibet and her feelings. She will never be denied of anything. - Y/N pauses, taking a breath and the courage to continue - I would never deny you the... right to be Lilibet's mother, nor would I deny Lilibet the opportunity to have the other mother by her side. She needs love and care, I just want the best for my princess. - she swallows down her saliva, still not believing that this feared moment has arrived and to go through her pride for the sake of the girl's happiness is harder than she thought it would be - I'm here to answer your questions, as apparently I won't be able to sleep. After all.

Emily opens the mouth to say something, but no words come out. She then quickly approaches Y/N and hugs her with excitement, wrapping her in arms tightly, affectionately and gratefully. Although she returns the contact the woman carefully pulls away, as if the touch is burning her, which is not entirely untrue. Where she is touched burns, leaving a lingering trail on Y/N skin, etched as well as scent of her perfume on her clothes.

- So...

- Ah! - the chief realizes she just did and practically throws herself back to where she was before - I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself. I want to think of something to ask, but there are so many things about her that I don't know where to start, maybe the basics. What is her favorite color? What does she like to do? Is she a lively child or a quieter one? That would be ironic, a quiet child was all my parents wanted. - she laughs sadly, unable to know what the girl is like even though she spends a day watching her, the guilt takes over her stomach and reaches into bile with this dull feeling.

- Well, her favorite color is green, she also likes pink tones, except for vibrant ones. Lili loves to draw and paint, and sometimes she can be quite agitated, especially on colder days, because all she wants to do is go out and play in the garden. - a bright smile appears on Y/N's lips as she talks about her daughter, and this doesn't pass unnoticed by Emily, who pays attention to every word, absorbing everything - She also loves to sing and dance, she is a little fan of musicals and Disney movies. Lili is really smart, she can already read little books, and is learning to count.

- It's amazing how smart she is for her age. - Emily comments, looking a bit amazed - You have done a great job with her. It's really fortunate that Lilibet has you for a mother. And... what else can you tell me about her? Does she do any activities? Maybe soccer.

- She is too young and small to play soccer, but she has been practicing ballet since 2 years old and wants to join the pre-school baseball league as soon as she turns 4. She loves sports, almost constantly accompanies me on walks, and when we are at home, there are the games and active play. - she smiles sadly, remembering that the girl had a day like that and was putting together her own mess when that man showed up, so she closes the eyes trying to erase it from her memory for the moment and tries to change the topic - Any other questions?

- I... - Emily was about to start asking, but was interrupted by the beep of her phone. She picks it up to see what was sent and her face becomes apprehensive - It's Tara calling me back to the BAU. There's a new lead. I have to go. Sorry, Y/N. I'd really like to talk more, but... - she gets up, already preparing to leave, putting her leather jacket against the body and the holster on her waist - Try to get some sleep, anything I call and if you need anything just call me, my number is on the nightstand.

- You can't tell me anymore about the lead?

- One of the invaders was captured. Do you remember the Petros Galanis case? - Emily feels frustrated for having to interrupt the conversation, but at the same time is motivated by finally having a useful lead about what is going on, besides that anything related to the case concluded years before has to be observed and treated with care - It's one of his former henchmen.

- Is Petros seeking revenge? Or one of his sons? - the question is practically rhetorical, Emily neither agrees nor responds - But we arrested him along with his sons, the only one who was not arrested reported him in and is in witness protection.

- He is a man with many cards up his sleeve. - the brunette says low, more to herself than to the woman, and shudders to imagine what the Greek mobster could do in retaliation, she knows he has connections with powerful people and has the ability to provide resources that many others don't have, which probably allowed him to invade the agents' house even in prison - I'll reinforce security here, Will and the boys are in the next room if something happens and I can't get there in time.

- Okay. - by now the tension has taken over the air, both feel the fear running down their spines, as much as they were protected and off the radar, the Galanis family had been one of the biggest criminal organizations they faced at that time, with a legacy marked of violence, power and intimidation, leaving a trail of corpses. When the case was closed there was the near certainty of the decimation with the arrest of the leader and his heirs, so the agents involved would be safe, but apparently not, no one is safe when there is one of them out there - Please take care.

- I will, you take care too. And of Lili. - Emily smiles weakly and approaches the child, leaving a kiss on her forehead. Then, she turns to Y/N and automatically does the same thing to her, an affectionate gesture and at the same time a farewell, something they used to do when they were married and even after years away her body still seems used to it. - Everything will be fine, try to get some sleep.

- Right.

And Emily left the hotel room with the feeling of fear in the pit of her stomach but mentally determined and ready to act on this case, to confirm if that arrested piece of shit is still connected to the greek mafia and what the hell Petros Galanis might be up to, or one of his four sons behind bars. Now, besides the BAU family, she has to protect the mother and daughter as well. She knows the danger they are in, especially Lilibet as she is an easy and fragile target, who could easily become the organization's ultimate goal of revenge. She was called Little Prentiss, just confirming that whoever goes after this sick plan knows about the maternal connection to Emily, knows about the marriage, and most importantly, knows that Lilibet Eloise Y/L/N (Prentiss) is the daughter of the two main agents responsible for the Galanis' downfall.

- Hey, we have a visitor... - Tara whispers practically running towards Emily as she passes through the glass doors of the floor, a bit distracted in her own thoughts.

- What?

- Behind me. Near the snack machine. - she points with her head to a woman in the same spot she indicated, the only person there -- Friend of Y/N and must be important to be here 3am behind her.

When looking closely at the place Emily comes across a tall woman, maybe almost or as tall as Tara, she is slim, her body is highlighted by a tailored feminine suit, she wears black Manolo Blahniks high heels, fine authentic jewelry, light makeup, her blonde hair is perfectly cut at shoulder height, her glasses perched on the tip on her thin nose as she searches for something on the machine reveals her light blue eyes, deep and penetrating. When she notices the chief's presence and directs her gaze at Emily, it is intense and inquisitive, as if she is reading her mind. Her expression is half amused, half serious, and she has an aura of authority that cannot be denied. This woman has an air of professionalism and elegance, standing out among the other people who despite wearing similar clothes seem just background in her presence. As she walks towards the women, the brunette can't not notice the beautiful pair of long, shapely legs fitted tightly into the chic skirt.

- Agent Prentiss, right? - she asks gently, holding out her free hand to the brunette, a small smile on lips.

- Chief, actually. - Emily shakes the woman's hand, feeling the firmness and confidence she conveys in just one touch. The handshake was brief but intense, as if both were evaluating and testing each other - And you?

- Dr. Helena Cavendish. - she faces her with a certain superiority, analyzing Emily from head to foot, as if she were weighing every detail of hers and analyzing it, then smiles before continuing - For closer, Lena. Y/N's girlfriend.

Note: Ladies, I present to you how I imagine the OC, for me Helena would have the same look and vibe as Alex Cabot from SVU

[kitaishi]

— “how many bags of icing sugar do we need again?” / throws rindo @ mom !

★ . ━  ❛ baking prompts // holidays with the strifes.

while tifa patiently listens to another frantic customer on the phone, she calmly writes down the latest addition to a long list of rush orders the bakery had lined up for the holidays: one cranberry pound cake, two cheesecakes ( although, it sounded like they were on the verge of adding a third ), and a dozen gingerbread cookies. as the overwhelmed client seem to debate internally with themselves on the other end of the line, tifa tries to throw out some casual suggestions in order to gently move things along. she's a bit tired after bouncing between taking phone calls, helping pack orders, and everything else that was needed to keep their business running. still, tifa couldn't quite rest yet - even if all she really wants right now is to sit in a long, hot bubble bath. sightly softly into the receiver, the woman is nearly about to suggest one of cloud's pies as an alternative dessert despite how her heart sinks a little at the idea.

tifa didn't really want to accept that the mixed berry pie cloud baked a few days ago wouldn't be hers to claim anymore. tifa had really wanted to pair a hot slice with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a glass of her favorite dessert wine... before tifa could bring it up though, she hears her son calling from the secondary kitchen adjourned to their home.

   ' moooom! how many bags of icing sugar do we need again? '

she quickly mutes her phone, shouting back from where she sat in her office on the other side of the house, ❛ about four honey ! actually...make it six to be safe! ’ thankfully, the customer is still waffling, not even aware of her brief moment away, when she unmutes her cellphone. tifa returns without missing a beat, ❛ you know, our holiday cake is another popular special that may be perfect for you! it's a strawberry shortcake that can provide a sweet but lighter alternative for your dinner guest if interested? ’ thankfully, the client seemed to love the suggestion and so the shortcake, as well as another cheesecake, got added to the order. pie saved.

pleased with herself, tifa stood and stretched her sore back before silencing her phone for the rest of the evening in order to focus on what mattered: her family. cloud was doing some finishing up deliveries, leaving her to get started on some of his orders with a bit of help from rindo. speaking of their son: the teen practically looked as if he was on death's row while he drops the last bags of needed sugar on the counter. ❛ don't look too enthused to help your uncool mom with baking. ’ she lovingly rolls her eyes at him as she enters the kitchen, snatching a marshmallow from one of the various bowls littering the kitchen's island and cutely giving him a tiny ' bop! ' on the nose with it before popping it in her mouth.

' ugh, stop it mom! ' rindo whines as he swats tifa's hands away, pretending to be annoyed by her 'lame' antics. despite his words, tifa can't help but notice ( and secretly treasure ) the small smirk on her baby boy's face - even while he desperately tries to hide it from her. ❛ let's get you started on mixing the icing. i'll walk you through your grandmother's recipe while you work. ’ rindo's already stuffing his cellphone in his pants with a bored sigh and heading over to sink - where he earns a nod of approval from his mom as he begins to wash his hands first just like she and cloud always instructed him to. tifa's tying an old but faithful, flour coated apron around her waist when a thought suddenly comes to her.

❛ say rindo... ’ she says aloud, pulling out a few measuring cups and spoons as she did so. ❛ if both your dad and i are pleased with your work tonight, i'll let you pretend to be sick tomorrow to play that game of yours you love so much alright? ’

tifa can practically hear his neck whip around towards her, his quiet voice soft but hopeful ' no way! really? ' tifa just hums innocently with a smile, popping another marshmallow in her mouth before simply saying, ❛ very way. ’ ...which earns her an immediate - and loud - groan after. she ignores it to affectionately ruffle his hair with a laugh.

❛ alright kiddo... ’ tifa punches a fist into her hand in order to pump them both up for the long, laborious night ahead. ❛ let's get to work! ’