#but i went into this game intentional pretty blind so i could have that sort of blank slate approach to all of them

[j-whirl44]

In other news my brain is in entirely Neve Gallus lock down so jot that down.

[ptn-imagines]

Hi there! Glad to see another PtN focused blog. Do you have any romantic sfw and nsfw headcanons for Sumire and Chief!reader? I feel that Sumire is a great partner but she gets overshadowed by the more popular Sinners paired with Chief, so I’d love to see her get more, well, love! Thanks!

You're absolutely right! I've loved Sumire for a long time and this ask finally got me to do her interrogation. I love her even more now! I feel like she's up there with Cinnabar on the list of potential perfect partner candidates!

NSFW below the cut.

Sumire x Chief (SFW+NSFW)

Even after everything, Sumire has a habit of being distant, watching Chief from afar with a wistful gaze in her eyes. They weren’t blind to it, and were more than aware that she was still protecting them from threats in the shadows.

They also, as time went on, began to understand that Sumire viewed them as more than just a friend. There was a certain fond adoration in the assassin’s eyes when she looked at them,  and her smile always seemed to turn brighter when she saw them.

It was… cute, if the Chief was being honest with themself. Sumire’s behavior was very charming indeed, and… well, she was pretty. Sumire didn’t seem to think much of herself and her scarred, worn body, but the more Chief gazed upon her, the more they found themself appreciating her as if she were the moon itself, or a particularly breathtaking piece of artwork.

Chief considered their options. It was very much against rules for them to be in a relationship with a Sinner, but Sumire was an assassin, after all; subtlety was the name of the game for her. Surely she could keep a relationship clandestine.

Chief wasn’t sure how to express their feelings in words, though, so they resorted to another language they knew Sumire would understand: flowers. Using the guise of a minor dispatch mission, the Chief brought Sumire to an Eastside park underneath the full moon and presented her with a bouquet of seven red roses, three sunflowers, and a medley of primroses, violets, and, of course, cherry blossoms.

Even if Sumire hadn’t understood their meaning (she had, of course; what sort of Garden assassin wouldn’t?), receiving a bouquet in a setting such as this can only mean one thing. Her eyes widened, and the Chief couldn’t help but focus on the shocked ‘o’ her lips formed, beautiful even when surprised.

The pale moonlight showed the blush emerging on Sumire’s pale skin as she accepted the bouquet – and with it, the confession. She held the flowers close as though afraid she might drop them, and the two stood in silence for a moment, the night breeze gently playing with their hair.

“Chief, I never thought…” Sumire stopped, seeming to reconsider her words, before continuing. “I’m honored that you’d pick me above all others. My feelings for you… I have loved you for a long time now.”

The rest of the night is spent innocently, the two laying in the park watching the night sky and talking in hushed voices. The only sign that something had changed was when Sumire returned with the Chief’s jacket around her shoulders – her explanation was simply that the Chief had given it to her, worried that she might catch a chill (which, in all fairness, was true).

As Chief had expected, Sumire expertly kept their relationship hidden – she acted much the same as she always did around the Chief, and her lingering close by but also at a distance was simply her normal, so nobody questioned it.

Well, Coquelic and Garofano noticed. Still, their primary concern was that Sumire was happy, so they didn’t make a fuss out of it, aside from some teasing remarks and well-wishes (and threats towards Chief when Sumire wasn’t in earshot. Chief was very, very glad they had no intentions of breaking Sumire’s heart.)

While affairs at the Bureau contained business as normal, a discerning eye might notice that the Chief was taking Sumire as an escort on a staggering amount of “nighttime dispatches.” These mainly consisted of walks (in well-lit parks) and visits to the theaters of Eastside, as most of the nightlife was not to their liking, but the day held too much risk of being caught.

Still, occasionally they’d find a 24-hour cafe or some such that they’d both become enamored with; they’d become regulars at those places, albeit not too regular just in case.

Overall, while their relationship was quiet and fairly lowkey, both Chief and Sumire were happier than they had ever been. Each saw the other as a break from the hectic bustle of their daily lives, and both couldn’t imagine parting from each other. Theirs is a relationship that is likely to stay together, even if official marriage isn’t in the cards for a relationship such as theirs.

They don’t often have the opportunity to have sex, but when they do, Sumire is entirely focused on Chief’s pleasure. The Chief attends to her as dutifully as they can, of course, but the simple fact of the matter is that the Chief’s pleasure is Sumire’s pleasure; usually she reaches her own climax not long after they do.

Sumire doesn’t enjoy penetrative sex very much, and much prefers to orally pleasure the Chief. Inexperience means that it can be messy at times, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Sumire’s devotion makes up for any shortcomings.

Sumire’s instinctive nature is gentle sex, but if the Chief asks for it rough, she will oblige with a surprising fierceness that serves as a reminder that every rose has thorns.

When it comes to kink, Sumire is very vanilla. She’s willing to try some of the tamer stuff if Chief wants it, but it’s very much not her thing, and she’ll gently but firmly assert her boundaries on this.

That being said, she enjoys the artistry of shibari and is in fact very skilled at it; apparently, in addition to finding the end product beautiful, it also calms Sumire’s mind. When asked by the Chief about how she got so skilled with the ropes, Sumire admitted that she had been practicing on herself for quite a long time.

Aftercare with these two is usually a shared bath, washing each other’s hair and bodies. Afterwards, they have a tendency to fall asleep in each other’s arms, comfortable and blissed. It’s probably this that poses the biggest risk of exposure to their relationship, but hey, they haven’t been found out yet…

[riddlerosehearts]

okay, i've got some things i wanna say about twst EN's translation of scarabia's story that i was originally typing out as part of a response to an ask, but then i realized i was going off on a bit of a tangent and was like "this could basically be its own post"--so now it's going to be its own post!

i'm a twst EN player, and for the most part, i do really like the localization. i don't speak japanese but i love learning about language and the process of translation and localization, so at one point after finishing books 1-5 i went and reread them all (and 6 as well, once it was fully released on EN) with a fan translation and the localization side by side to compare them. and from what i could tell as someone who isn't a japanese speaker, i honestly thought it seemed like they usually did pretty well? sure, there were a few mistakes like cater claiming to be an only child (this one, i think, has actually been fixed recently), or how in book 2 they removed a small mention of falena making it seem like he's never mentioned at all until leona's flashback and they also removed the numerous times that he said "be prepared" (at least they finally properly translated it in book 6, though!!). but i thought most of these mistakes were somewhat minor and could be forgiven... until book 4 (well, and book 5, mostly in regards to vil and epel's conflict and i'm not talking about them here, so).

see, i actually realized that something was off about the localization when i first played through book 4, because i have a weird memory and have picked up a bunch of random words and phrases from being into japanese media and reading so much about the localization process. and i also play twst with the sound on because i love to hear the voice acting. so sometimes i would hear jamil speak, i'd pick out the words "shujin" and "juusha" for "master" and "servant", and then the subtitles wouldn't include them at all. so i'd guess certain things about the actual intent behind the story based on that. take this message i sent to my friend when i was sharing my blind reactions to the game:

and she ended up telling me that apparently, what i thought he should say essentially IS what he originally said!! according to the fan translation on wiki.gg he said this instead:

i had wondered if maybe i was reading into things and assuming too much, but it turned out i was completely spot on! but most people who play EN would not be able to pick up on this and realize that jamil was born into servitude to kalim and has no escape, because as i later discovered almost every single mention of him being a servant at all was removed, in events and vignettes as well. which is actually really weird to me because they don't remove it entirely, they do in fact bring up the fact that jamil has to test all of kalim's food for poison during book 4 and they also left in a line where he says he "works as kalim's servant". but they only really mention these things once or twice and then they try to sort of play it off as jamil being a paid employee or something most of the time... seriously, during beanfest there's dialogue where jamil says it would be rude to refuse an order from his boss but i've read that that line was originally him saying a servant couldn't disobey his master. and in the scalding sands event he calls himself "a dedicated employee" of kalim's... what, am i supposed to assume he works as a butler by choice or something? yeah, no. also, one of his birthday vignettes, which are fully voiced so i could TELL he said, with a devious smirk on his face, that if he had a parrot the first word he would teach it would be "shujin-sama". "master". what did EN change this into?

the person i was originally writing all of this in response to said that sometimes people's takes on jamil make them wonder if people are reading a completely different story but also that part of that can probably be blamed on the way EN completely changed the context of his situation with these translation choices. and yeah, i fully agree with that assessment: more casual fans or people who just aren't that interested in the scarabia duo could be said to be reading a different story with this whole "boss" and "employee" thing that has jamil make it sound like the worst that could ever happen to him if he got in trouble would be getting a really stern lecture from his parents.

and it makes me sad because i really do love both jamil and kalim so much and i think their dynamic is so tragic and complicated and interesting to think about. i think they're both really complex characters who are trapped in an awful situation. kalim is so kind and loving and would never wanna hurt anyone but he hurts jamil just by existing as part of the fucked up society they live in. kalim thought he and jamil were best friends, he had no idea of the toxicity of their dynamic and the pain jamil was in, and people say jamil should've just talked to him about it earlier... but jamil's first memory as a child is of seeing his parents bow to the asim family. being a servant is practically all he's ever known and he's had it drilled into his head since they were both small children that he can never be himself around kalim, can never just treat him like a normal person because he's a servant and kalim is his master. and even if he did accept kalim's offer to start over as equals and be friends, what would happen when they had to go home to their families? they won't be at school forever.

and i just. augh. i hate what the localization does with them. if you try to water them down to just an employee who's super mad at his obliviously crappy boss, or just two childhood friends who needed to communicate better or something like that, then you take away from the complexity of both characters. you also lose extremely cool writing choices like how jamil is a character who was born into servitude but has the power to make himself the master with his unique magic. i see so many takes about how jamil is just a jerk who betrayed his best friend and how kalim never did anything wrong in his entire life and i hate it but i'm sure the localization's choices are in fact to blame for a lot of this.

so anyway jamil and kalim's actual dynamic is fascinating and lives rent-free in my head, no thanks to how the EN version gutted it.

[poppy-metal]

"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex. 

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me. 

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is. 

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much. 

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?” 

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move” 

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No” 

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway” 

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class” 

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’ 

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all. 

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you. 

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option. 

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you. 

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours. 

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again. 

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was. 

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there. 

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn. 

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green. 

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves- 

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes. 

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for. 

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you. 

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in. 

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it. 

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen. 

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.  

Oh god. Oh no. 

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief. 

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one. 

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now. 

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when- 

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it. 

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell. 

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat” 

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today. 

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..” 

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too. 

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed. 

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at. 

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet. 

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?” 

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them. 

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed. 

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!” 

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling. 

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving. 

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level. 

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps. 

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if. 

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so. 

. 

[athyathye]

The 3 definitions of stupid 

Author’s note 📝: This is mainly in 3rd pov. Also here's a fun game, take a shot everytime you read stupid lol

1.2k word count

Warnings ⚠️: kinda cheating¿ implied s3xu@l relations but not really explored, toxic!rindou, like 1 or 2 curse words~

In hindsight, to other Bonten officials you were smart, level-headed and assiduous. But when it came to a certain someone, they all bet you’d go stupid for that person no matter what. 

Your profession was not ideal. Your profession required you to do all sorts of things a normal moral person would abhor. You could no longer associate with the ‘normal’ crowd as a result. Left only to the hands none other than you bloodied ones, and to people with the same amount of blood on theirs.

But even so, no matter how much you’ve seen the light leave people’s eyes you couldn’t help but glance at a soulless pair. No matter how ruthless they were, no matter how much they held hate or how much they’d glared at yours.

Violet, like the color that blinded your vision when you fired a shot. Like your favorite scent that could never fail to calm you. 

You were a puppet with strings. And he was a damn good puppeteer.

But you see, even if you weren’t that stupid, he was. 

The glint in his eyes told you so. The glint that only appeared when a certain equally stupid girl entered the vicinity.

The kind of stupid girl who jumped into rivers for kittens who fell in. 

It was a ridiculous pairing that came straight out of the imagination of a naive little girl no older than 7. Even so, you couldn’t deny it. You envied the light he showed her, the effort he tried to give her. Hers and only hers you could say.

Even if all her actions came with more cons than the good she meant to do. But that’s not to say it was excusable. Good intentions alone aren’t exactly enough you see. 

No good person would boast about the good deeds she does. No good person would go around preaching about morality to a group of criminals.

Better yet, no sane person would even hang around the most wanted criminals. If she deemed herself as good why hasn't she called the police yet?

Not only were you hard-working, you were observant as well. Though a better term would be, you had eyes. You saw things no reader, no sideline character could see.

The way the car that the heroine jumped in front of to save her kind, a lamb going straight to the slaughterhouse, hit a tree with the person inside just barely escaping. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t escape the bullet that went straight for him after, much less expect it.

Or like the man she pleaded to save, all because she believed in second chances. Who ended up killing a group of teenagers because of driving under the influence. 

It seemed as if you were the only person to notice that as well. Everybody else saw her as this righteous, upright and incorruptible female figure that made their days brighter.

You were the complete opposite. Not that you minded, you could care less about what they thought of you. You were way past the line of caring. Not even when those ruthless death-trapping blank eyes narrowed at you. 

Only he could make use of those eyes like that. The power that makes them so lovable and able to convey a deep meaning even when they were used only for the most gruesome sights, a look into what he was thinking. And more often than not, you knew he wasn’t thinking about pretty things when looking at you.

“See? I told y’all a sadistic b*tch like she could handle things without me.” He tried to excuse himself from the glares that he was thrown with after you had reported how your mission went to your boss.  A mission that was meant to be joint with him. But you could guess why he ditched. After all, it was a special day for a special someone. 

As for yourself, you could have said a lot of things. In fact you did have a lot to say. But you stayed silent. Already feeling tired even when you’ve yet to talk, let alone glance at him. 

Why won’t you? you ask. Because who knows what kind of expression he’s making. You could only have one of his looks directed at you after all. Everything else was reserved. Hers and hers alone.

You don’t think you could take it either. Not when you were hopelessly pining. Why? Why was it like that?

Well, not even you could figure it out. After all, there are a lot of  things you can’t explain to anyone, even when you feel it again and again, or when they’ve been explained. Not everybody has the privilege of being able to explain things.

But oh, how he was stupid. Absolutely moronic, foolish and dumbwitted. 

But so were you.

You find yourself thinking that at the deepest depths of the night. On his bed. 

You couldn’t even cry anymore from how much shame you felt. You could only chuckle as you imagined what you looked like at that very moment. How he convinced you to join him as he practically spelled out for you how he was never going to get tied up with the same girl he ditched you for.

“Our lives are a heck of a lot different, you already know that” Hands behind his neck, a cigarette in between his chapped but sultry lips. You couldn’t help but admire the way it moved, the way the shape of your name was displayed on his mouth.

“I wasn’t really gonna’ like, tie the knot with her. Just a one-time thing.”

But you tried to fight back your desires. “And suddenly that falls under my business, how?”

One of his hands trailed over the top of your head, to the apple of your cheek. He caressed it which made you lean on the warmth that was radiating off of it. You tried to gaze into his eyes as he did so but before you could he had already slammed it to the wall behind you. 

Trapping you in between his predatory gaze as he said “Because I’m not stupid enough to pass on a beatiful woman like you who noticed a no-good man like me.”

How irrational you were. How incredibly desire-driven you were. Stupid.  

You couldn’t help but be curious how he knew, your desire was undeniable. However, it was silent. As silent as the pleading of your group to stop the crimes all of you cause.

And now you bear the consequences of a reckless decision. 

Staring at the object in front of you that could potentially change everything you’re doing in life. You couldn’t help the bile that rose to your mouth. 

What was even more nauseating was the scene occurring in front of you now. It was tormenting.

“You’re different.” He brushed her hair back. Wiping away the tears that continuously poured out of her lively eyes.

You couldn’t help the utter laughter that bubbled out of you. “Aww Look at you comforting people with the words you wished someone would say to you.”

Clenching his teeth at the interruption, all the attention was now on you. Stoic and calm, that’s what your posture said. But the madness and disappointment oozing out of you was loud.

“I take it back. You’re not stupid at all. The line was crossed 50 kilometers ago, you’re unable to even think for yourself.” You breathed out. Shaking your head as you left. Possibly everything. 

To other Bonten officials you were smart, level-headed and assiduous. But when it came to a certain someone, they were all correct in believing that you’d go stupid for a person no matter what. 

You were stupid for burying your head underwater.

[godoflobsters]

The Brothers and Dateables With a Tattoo Artist MC

My own MC was a tattoo artist before she came to the Devildom, so I thought I’d write up some head cannons with a tattoo artist MC.

MC is gender neutral!

Mammon

Nobody can convince me that the “Brothers Under a Pact” squad wouldn't be the first ones to get tattoos from MC, and Mammon would definitely be the first

Definitely likes to brag about it too

Don't remind him that there are countless people in the human realm that you tattooed before him or he will pout

People tend to think that Mammon is cheap and would try to talk you into giving him free or cheap tattoos, but he couldn't stand to be like that towards you especially regarding something that you’re so good at

Our first man works his butt off every time he wants to get some new ink from you

Likes to give you a big ole tip every time

Gets fidgety when he has to sit still for too long so you two have to take breaks often

Prefers small/medium sized tattoos rather than really big ones

One time after he started getting tattoos from you, he was at a modeling gig and they tried to make him cover them up with makeup, he quit and that magazine went bankrupt not too long after...dont fuck with the avatar of greed

Once your shop starts taking off in the Devildom, he and Asmo try to convince you to do a shoot for Majolish(They definitely didn't pull some strings to get Majolish to do a whole segment about you and your business)

Beelzebub

The second brother to get a tattoo from MC

Refuses to get any food related tattoos: he doesn't want to accidentally take a chunk out of himself when he gets blinded by his hunger

This man has a very high pain tolerance and sits like a rock while you're tattooing him and you love him for it

He definitely needs snack breaks during longer sessions though

Has a memorial tattoo for Lillith over his heart that matches with one on Belphie

While making this list I was randomly blessed with the mental image of Beel with abuncha old school American traditional tattoos and you can pry that headcannon from my cold, dead hands

Mammon likes to brag that he has the most tattoos from you, but Beel might give him a run for his money, he doesn't mind Mammon’s bragging most of the time though, so he just lets him believe whatever he wants this time

Simeon

But Simeon has never been all that great at following the rules that they set for him

The first of the dateables to get a tattoo

He wasn't actually planning on getting a tattoo at first, but one day he overheard Luke trying to scold you for all of your tattoos(definitely before the incident with Beel and Lucifer in the underground tomb) and that was the only push he needed to jump on the “tattoos from MC” train

There is a lot of rhetoric in the Celestial Realm about how “Your body is a temple and you should not mark it”

He’s still not willing to stray too far from his roots though, so he’d probably get something with vaguely religious undertones

Absolutely delights in the shocked look on your face and the sheepish questions on whether angels are allowed to do this

Once he’s finally convinced you that you're not damning him to fall by tattooing him, the process goes by very easily

He is very easygoing and open regarding designs and he handles the pain very well

He absolutely loves to show his tattoo off, even when he goes home to the Celestial Realm and receives his reprimands from Michael

Leviathan

The third brother to get a tattoo from MC

Didn't want to get a tattoo at first, all of that physical contact and pain on top of it? No way

But then Mammon, Beel, and even Simeon all got one and he got jealous

You're HIS Henry, why are THEY the ones who get to wear your art? He might’ve been able to deal with his dumb brothers, but SIMEON TOO?

You gotta sit down with him and have a nice long chat about it, making sure this is something that he would actually want to do and not just his envy talking

Spoiler alert: It was definitely just his envy talking

He realises that he is actually oddly attached to the idea of getting a tattoo from you now though, so he comes up with designs and draws them on himself until he is certain that he won't regret it

Would get something tiny and probably gaming related

Definitely very squeamish about the pain aspect but the design that the two of you came up with is very simple and small, so he is able to make it through without fainting

He absolutely loves his new tattoo...but he is never doing that again

Belphegor

Fourth brother to get a tattoo

Has wanted to get one ever since Beel showed him the tattoo he got in memory of Lillith, but things were very...not good...between the two of you at that point

Finally worked up the courage to at least ask if you would be okay with it after the two of you made a pact

Beel, forgetting his super high pain tolerance, told him that it getting a tattoo doesn't hurt at all, so he was in for a big surprise when he went under the needle for the first time

Whiny at first, but he manages to stay very still for you

Has a memorial tattoo for Lilith over his heart that matches with one on Beel

Will definitely start to doze off during long sessions

Convinced Satan to get a matching Anti Lucifer League tattoo with him(definitely doesn't try to convince you to get one too)

Make sure that he does not, under any circumstances, actually fall asleep while you're tattooing him. He did once and he rolled over in his sleep, almost ruining an entire tattoo

Ever since that time, Beel has come with him to his sessions so you could focus on your work and he can focus on keeping Belphie awake

Satan

Gets his tattoo not long after Belphie

One of those people that think every tattoo needs to mean something so he takes forever trying to pick out something that he wants

Would probably get some sort of quote or design inspired by his favorite book, something that really resonated with who he is as a person

Was somehow convinced by Belphie to get an Anti Lucifer League tattoo

Does he regret it whenever he realizes that he now has a portion of his skin dedicated to Lucifer of all people? Possibly, but he definitely won't say anything about it to you

Loves to look at you and just admire your tattoos, asking the stories behind each and every one of them that he can see

He might be a bigger fan of literature than the fine arts, but that doesn't mean that he has any less of an appreciation for your work

Definitely pulls some strings and gets one of his friends who owns an art gallery to display some of your work there

Can set you up with all the connections that you need to make your mark on the Devildom art world

Lucifer

The last of the brothers to get a tattoo

In the beginning he has no intentions of getting a tattoo, he does have alot of respect for your talents and how hard you work for them though

As an art lover and artist himself, he will most certainly commission you from time to time and hang your work in his study

He won't admit it, but seeing your art and thinking of you when he's stressed with work is very soothing

He eventually decides to let you tattoo him only if it’s in a place that is easily covered by his clothes, considering how he dresses that leaves you with pretty much his entire body to work with

Sometimes when he has some time off he will grab a sketchbook and join you if he finds you in the common room working on a design, you share a comfortable silence, with the only sounds be the crackling of the fireplace and the scratching of pencils on paper

The kind of person that wants a tattoo but has no idea what he actually wants, but hes picky as fuck so he will turn down every single idea that you give him for weeks

He is lucky that you love him

Whenever you two talk about placements, if you mention anything on his back to cover up the scars from his wings he will almost back out entirely

Almost

Afew months later he’ll put his pride aside come back, admitting that your ideas would be perfect and that he wants to go through with it

During the session he has way too much pride to admit that he was feeling any pain

That is until you have to start going over the scars

As soon as the needles hit scar tissue he starts to fall apart; tears, shaking, the whole nine yards

It takes you quite a few sessions to finish since he cant handle such long sessions on that portion of his back

The summer after his new back piece is finished, he goes with you and his brothers back to Diavolo’s beach, this time he takes his shirt off in front of everyone for the first time since the fall

He wears your art with such pride that he lets everyone keep the memory, he even lets Asmo keep the pictures he took of all of them up on Devilgram

Diavolo

Wanted to be the first to get a tattoo but Barbatos said no

If you want to continue your career in the Devildom for the duration of your stay, he will buy you a building to work from and any supplies to get started since you had to leave your stuff in the human realm

Diavolo has rooms in the castle filled with the art that he's collected over the years, so when he sees that you're an artist he gets so excited

Before he finally gets tattooed by you, he buys a lot of your artwork and hangs it up around the castle

It takes a few years to propose the idea again to Barbatos in a way that wont make the butler’s hair fall out from stress, but he finally relented under one condition: it has to be in an area that is still hidden while he’s in his demon form

He decides that his legs would be the perfect place to indulge in your artistic talents while also keeping Barbatos’s controlling side at bay

Hes another one that knows he wants a tattoo but no clue what he wants to get

Unlike Lucifer though, he is a true open canvas

He truly adores your art so he wholeheartedly trusts you with his body and knows that he will love anything that you do for him

He knows that this is most likely very nerve wracking for you considering his position so he tries to reassure you and make the process very easy for you

You still put everything into designing him something fit for a king

He’s the type to prefer large pieces that span over entire sections of his body rather than abuncha small/medium sized ones

Another fidgetter, he’s really not all that accustomed to pain so he doesn't have a high tolerance for it

Likes to treat you to dinner at Ristorante Six after each of his sessions

Tips like the absolute king he is, you could probably pay a couple months of rent back at your apartment in the Human Realm just from his tip

Once his tattoo is finally finished and healed, he will find every excuse that he can think of to invite you and the brothers on outings to places where he is free from scrutiny to wear shorts and show off your artwork

Barbatos

The last of all of the boys to get a tattoo

It was a complete shock to everyone when he came to you and asked if he could make an appointment to get tattooed by you

“Everyone” being you, Diavolo, and Lucifer because nobody else knows that it happened and he would like to keep it that way

Another member of the “I’ll get one as long as it’s somewhere nobody will see” club...so basically not his face

Before the two of you get to talking about designs, you expect him to go with something small and simple, maybe an elegant little teapot or something along those lines

Then this man comes to his consultation and throws you for a loop talking about a sleeve

Very picky, he has high standards for himself and what's on his body

Knows exactly what he wants but does his best not to stifle your creativity during the design process

You learn ALOT about just who lurks behind Barbatos’s mild-mannered butler facade during his sessions, he’s surprisingly upfront and honest whenever you have him under the needle

Solomon

Can't get a tattoo

This man has pact marks for 72 demons all over his body, there is simply no more room

Any open space he has is being saved just in case any other demons *cough* Lucifer *cough* ever decide to come around to making a pact

Collects your flash and hangs it up around his room

If you take Diavolo up on his offer to set up a shop in the Devildom, he will make sure to tell all of his pact-mates about you, hype up your work, and get you a lot of business in the door

Sometimes he will commission art from you and use magic to make your art temporarily appear on his skin over the pact marks

Once you become a sorcerer and have a better grasp on your magic, he helps you experiment in creating magical inks and enchanting tattoos

Asmodeus

The only one that actually doesn't want to get a tattoo

He doesnt think that tattoos would fit in very well to the image that he has for himself

And not being able to show off every inch of his beautiful skin while its healing is a no from him

Since he likes to test out his new makeup and skincare products on you, sometimes after he has had his way with your face he will let you draw on him with skin safe markers

would definitely be a wimp about the pain

Will spam pictures to his Devilgram of his fancy new temporary tattoos and you drawing on him

Will definitely try to bring you some of his flings to get his name tattooed on them, you will have to reprimand him every single time and eventually he will stop

If you're not the type to keep up with social media, he’ll offer to keep up a Devilgram account for your shop

If you're ever attempting to draw and you have a very specific pose in your head that you can't find a reference for, he will not hesitate to get up and start posing for you

Luke

He is baby and cant have any tattoos until he's older

His mind frequently bounces back and forth between the whole “your body is a temple” rhetoric that he was taught growing up and “wow that's so cool!”

After Simeon got his tattoo Luke became a lot more enthusiastic and curious about your job though

Will occasionally ask if he can have one of your flash sheets so he can color your pictures

These very often end up on the fridge in Purgatory Hall

Sometimes they even make their way to the fridge in the House of Lamentation too

Will this make the brothers jealous? Yes. Do you care? No.

Luke loves you and looks up to you so much that he goes through a little phase of wanting to copy you, yourself and the entirety of Purgatory Hall can expect loads of temporary marker tattoos

[glitxhwayventeen]

The Sickly One

Wonwoo

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: mentions of war, mentions of health issues, mentions of blood, mentions of sexism, mentions of misogyny, lying, self image issues, let me know if I missed any because I write these chapters during different days and I forget!

Author’s Note: Wonwoo’s will also have a part two just because I didn’t want to make one super long chapter for him either.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Paved With Good Intentions Masterlist

Tag List @babyminghao

🥀 & ☁️

Bold- Dialogue Italics- Thoughts Pink- Native Language

The Sickly One Part 2 & Part 3

It seemed like every other day: the trees were blowing gently in the breeze. The birds were chirping their usual harmonious song.

The grass was its normal green color Wonwoo was so used to. He had no idea his entire world would be turned upside down in a matter of hours.

——

The pack was outside playing. San was absolutely determined to show all the boys he was the best at soccer so most of them were on their make shift field letting him show them up. After his injury, they had all been babying him to no end to be sure he healed properly. That included letting him win every soccer game. The less energetic boys were sitting on the sidelines, watching the whole thing take place when a taxi stopped in front of their driveway.

Which was weird: they normally never had taxis stop in their neighborhood, let alone in front of their home. Yet immediately, Wonwoo felt a type of feeling he had never felt before… a sort of euphoria maybe? It didn’t make sense.

Not really anyways because when he looked around, his brothers looked curious whereas Wonwoo was positive the powerful feeling he felt must’ve made him look incredibly confused. It wasn’t until the back door to the taxi opened that he understood what was happening.

San ran up and whispered something in another language into his mom’s ear, who was coincidentally sitting on Chan’s lap beside Wonwoo. Whatever he said caused the older girl to jet up from her place and head towards the opening taxi, much to her mate’s dismay.

A girl that seemed to be around Chan’s age stepped out of the vehicle with clothes a bit too warm and pretty for the weather and social climate they currently had, and immediately, Wonwoo was hooked.

Your features were similar to that of Chan’s new mate: darker hair, strangely bright eyes, small form. And when you fully got out of the taxi, Omi hurriedly opened her arms to give you the biggest most bone crushing hug she could and you gave the brightest most dazzling smile Wonwoo had ever seen.

Your figure seemed to was surrounded by an array of heavenly light he hadn’t even known existed. He tried to rub his eyes in an effort to erase the glow surrounding you, but when he opened them again, he realized that not only did the light just get more defined, but the colors of objects around him seemed to have almost dulled by comparison.

He gulped only loud enough for the few boys next to him to hear. They gave him a knowing look, like they already understood everything that was going on with only Wonwoo’s doe eyes as a clue. Whoever you were, you were his mate.

“______!” The smallest mate shrieked, “I’m so glad you’re here! But You told me you were coming in tomorrow!” Omi pouted at you in an almost scolding tone.

You just grinned back with a blinding grin, “Yeah I know. Sorry!” You apologized with an accent behind your Korean similar to Omi’s as you went to the trunk of the car and attempted to pull your big luggage out from it, “They moved my flight and my phone died before I could let you know,” You tried to tug at your suitcase, “I hope that my earlier appearance isn’t-” You tugged again, “an issue…” You finished without actually being able to grab your bag.

Omi sent Chan a look and he went straight to you to grab your things, much to Wonwoo’s relief, “No no! It’s fine! We’re just surprised is all!” She replied to you before standing next to her mate, who had managed to pull your suitcase out with ease, and lovingly grabbed his arm, “And this is Chan, my… boyfriend! Chan, this is my sister ______!”

She had spoken to you about him already. You knew he was a werewolf only a little older than you that he lived with his pack. She also mentioned that she and San now lived with them since it was safer than the two of them living alone.

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” He exclaimed as he held his hand that wasn’t holding your bag out to you.

You gladly took his hand in yours before speaking again, “It’s wonderful to meet you! Omi’s told me much about you and your friends! I hope my coming here doesn’t cause you too much trouble or inconvenience you all in any way.” You bowed your head politely, seemingly apologizing in advance for your abrupt appearance, not that Wonwoo was complaining about it personally.

Chan just simply waved off your concerns, “Not at all! I’m glad to actually meet some of Omi’s family members who don’t hate me!” He half joked, which caused you to giggle slightly.

Your brother had told you a little about your sisters new boyfriend too in a not so wonderful light. It wasn’t even necessarily that he didn’t like or approve of him once he understood the situation. He was just concerned for your sister and your nephew’s safety.

“Yes… I apologize for my brother,” you slightly winced out in reply, “He’s… just very overprotective. He still feels bad about that whole situation if it’s any consolation.”

The pup quickly paid the cab driver for his time and then lead both of you to rest of the boys just up the sidewalk.

“Hey guys! This is _____, Omi’s little sister.” He informed everyone while he gestured to you and your sister, who was glued to your side like a tick.

San also took it upon himself to charge at you while yelling your name in the cutest way possible, causing your already giant smile to get bigger in size as you bend down to pick up your little nephew and smothered him with kisses, which of course practically made Wonwoo melt in place.

“Hi _____! I hope you made it here okay. I know the airports here can be nuts sometimes.” A bulky dimple faced boy you had been told was the alpha spoke to you first, “I’m Seungcheol! Chan let me and the others know you were coming. You’re more than welcome to stay with us as I know your probably want to be with your sister,” Cheol repeated the same movements Chan did only moments ago and you reciprocated them.

“Thank you very much! I appreciate the offer,” you stated as you repositioned your nephew in your arms, “But I’m sure with so many of you living here there’s not much room for me. And I would not want to impose so I suppose I’ll just stay at my sister’s old house down the street till the lease is up while I search for an apartment!” You chirped, seeming a bit sad at the thought of staying away from your sister after having been far from each other for so long, but nonetheless grateful at the older male’s hospitality.

Before Wonwoo could even register his own thoughts, his mouth seemed to have a mind of it’s own, “You can take my room. I’ll stay downstairs or room with one of the others.”

This definitely took you for a spin, I mean, what grown man would willingly give their room up to some girl they don’t even know?

But just as you were about to politely decline his offer, you met his eyes and it felt as if time itself stood still. Like the only two people around were the both of you. Like the only thing that mattered was the cute bookworm looking boy speaking.

You found yourself having to blink up at him a few times to regain some composure, “I- I umm- that’s- that’s very kind of you….?”

“Wonwoo” Your sister, who had picked up on what had happened after Chan gave her a nudge, oh so mischievously let out with a slight giggle.

“Wonwoo! Yes right, I knew that!” You exclaimed with glee, making Wonwoo’s heart flutter in his chest at how excited you seemed to be that you remembered his name.

Your sister had given you brief descriptions of the boys and had even told you of some stories involving them. You remembered all the kind things she had to say about the pretty boy with the glasses. About how soft spoken, shy, and smart he was. But she left out just how downright gorgeous he was.

“That’s really kind of you, but really, I couldn’t take your- your room from you. That wouldn’t be very nice of me as a guest…” You ducked your head down and held the back of your neck with your free arm to try and hide your shyness/embarrassment and rosey red cheeks.

Seungcheol would’ve intervened to let the both of you know that he had already made arrangements for some of the boys to share a room to accommodate you, but he ultimately decided not to. Usually, Wonwoo was quite quiet and reserved to strangers. This situation gave him the perfect reason and subject to break the ice with you, so he just left it and let the sweetly awkward encounter play out naturally for his younger brother and his new mate.

Wonwoo’s eyes never failed to leave your angelic face, even as you struggled to lightly pull your nephew from you so you could properly speak with him, “Please, I insist. You should get to be around your sister and nephew as much as possible.”

As the battle of where you were going to stay was raging on between you and your new found mate, not that you knew that small detail yet, you noticed that your dear sister was whispering and laughing quietly to her own mate.

You knew that your encounters with boys usually didn’t end so well because of your upbringing, but you didn’t think you were doing a laughable job at attempting conversation with the tall guy.

If anything, you actually felt semi-comfortable speaking with him, which was completely unusual for you since you crashed and burned every conversation you’ve ever had with others. But Wonwoo’s aura was a nice shade of lilac and his voice was incredibly deep. Both were calming to you. It was just the audience around you that made you a little nervous. You never were one for public speaking.

The conversation ended with Wonwoo not backing down and his brothers and your sister backing him up on his proposition. So it was decided you would stay in a crowded house with them whether you liked it or not and that you would be staying in Wonwoo’s room while he stayed with one of the other boys.

Once everyone went inside, the whispering began. It made you feel… strange? Almost as if they were trying to hide something from you.

Now you were used to men not keeping you in the loop and basically treating you as if you didn’t exist as in your home country, women were basically just objects with zero power now because the war empowered boys to do whatever they wanted. Women had no say in anything and the males could do whatever they wanted like literally everywhere else in the world, except now there weren’t any repercussions when they went too far. You were used to the whispers and the secrets. But what you weren’t used to was being the center of attention and being talked about in a country that was supposedly free. You just didn’t get it.

-

It had been a little over a week of staying with the boys now. You still got strange whispers and looks, but you soon realized they didn’t feel malicious, just more so… childish? It felt like they were keeping some sort of crush’s secret from you on a playground and were giggling amongst themselves about how you didn’t know about it. It was kinda funny if anything, so you didn’t even mind it much anymore.

They seemed to do the same thing when Wonwoo was around too which… also confused you to say the least. But again, it wasn’t your place to mention it or stop it in your eyes. He didn’t seem to care, so you didn’t. You figured they just thought you had a petty school crush on him and were trying to tease you both about it. Which you felt bad about, because it wasn’t like they were wrong…

You couldn’t really explain why, but you really liked being near him. There was something about him that was just so… pulling. You couldn’t really place or name the feeling. You just knew what you felt whenever he walked into a room.

It felt like the world was spinning at light speed and all the oxygen had gotten sucked into a whirlpool around you leaving you dizzy. Like you had been lost in a sea of darkness and solitude then he came around and showed you what light and happiness was. It was truly the most intoxicating thing you’d ever experienced. But you’d never tell him that. You were 4 years younger than him after all, what would a guy like him possibly see in a girl like you?

In another world, you’d love to be with someone like him. He seemed thoughtful and caring, he never seemed to get angry or upset, and he was incredibly smart. He tutored his packmates because he didn’t want them to get behind on their studies and he was amazing to your nephew who he played with constantly and made sure he was always taken care of. He’s everything you could’ve ever prayed for in a significant other. And before you came to Korea, your hopes of being able to find that yourself were practically nonexistent.

Now you had the ability to do what you wanted whenever you wanted and it was amazing. But at the end of the day, you and Wonwoo just weren’t meant to be. He was a werewolf who was apparently destined to find a mate one day and you… well you already knew you weren’t gonna be it for… several reasons.

It sucked, but it was what it was and you were who you were. There wasn’t a thing you or anyone else could do about it.

Still, you knew they shouldn’t tease him like they did, it wasn’t his fault you were apparently bad at keeping your fondness for him in check. You made a mental note to yourself to try and talk to Omi about it to see if she could get them to stop. They did after all listen to her quite a bit more than anyone else. You figured it was because she was a mother and acted the part all the time. But truthfully, that was just how your sister had always been since your mother passed away.

As you were walking downstairs to go to the kitchen for breakfast, you heard voices talking and the conversation seemed to catch your attention. So you stopped moving your feet and started to listen. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you also didn’t want to walk in and intrude on their conversation.

“Just admit it!”

Admit what? Someone needed to admit something? Who needed to admit something?

“Shut Up.”

That voice sounded familiar… Wonwoo…? Who was he telling to shut up? Hell, WHY was he telling someone to shut up? That wasn’t very like him…

“Oh come on dude, just admit it and all your pain and suffering will be over!”

Wonwoo was suffering? Why was he suffering? What happened to him?

“No. I won’t do it.”

What won’t he do? Why don’t he do it? And what could possibly be happening to him that was so bad he was suffering?

“Well if you won’t tell her, I will. She’s basically my sister anyways now. It’ll be easier coming from me.”

Channie? Who was he talking about? He said her. There were only two other girls in the house other than you, and he was mated with one of them, so you highly doubted she would be who he referred to as a sister. That left you and Sam, Seungcheol’s mate. But she mainly kept to herself and she seemed closer with the quiet ones in the pack and as much as you loved Chan, he definitely was not quiet. So that left one person. You.

“I don’t want her to know. End of discussion.”

Could he have been talking about you? He couldn’t have been. You hadn’t done anything to upset anyone… right?

“Yeah well what are you gonna do if she can’t find a place soon huh? Then you’re gonna be stuck eaten a rock and a hard place. LITERALLY.”

Yep. They were definitely talking about you. But why WERE they talking about you? Had you upset Wonwoo without realizing it?

Just as Wonwoo seemed to want to speak again, you heard movement behind you signaling someone was about to come down the stairs. And as you didn’t want anyone to catch you was dropping on their conversation, you continued on.

“Hello everyone!” You announced to everyone as you made your way downstairs into the kitchen/living room, quickly noticing Wonwoo’s toned form sitting on the couch.

There he sat next to Jeonghan and Chan looking worn out. Yet when you made your way to his line of vision, his eyes immediately darted to you, squinted as if he was looking at something that disgusted him. You couldn’t tell if he was actually mad at you or if he just plain couldn’t see you because he didn’t have his glasses on. Poor boy was blind as a bat.

You were hoping for the last option though. You didn’t want him to be upset with you, you liked him too much. You’d hate to have actually done something to hurt him at all.

When your voice rang out, all the boys in the living room turned to face and welcome you with various hey’s, hi’s, and morning’s. But all you could focus on was Wonwoo. Maybe the others were within their right to tease you for your not so itsy bitsy crush on him.

You finally took in his appearance in full. He was sitting with an uncomfortable face while holding his neck as if it were hurt with one hand and cuddling a blanket with the other. His eyes looked blood shot and he had deep gray bags under them. And that’s when it hit you like a brick through a window.

Holding his neck, tired and sore looking eyes, blanket on the couch, the conversation from earlier. Oh no. They WERE talking about you. You took his room.

You were an intruder in his space and all but forced him to sleep on the couch every night since you’d been there. He was too sweet to tell you he needed his bed back. He was too kind to tell you that you were overstaying your welcome. He was too caring to even let his brothers do it for him. He probably thought it was wrong for him to ask you for it back given that everyone basically thought you were in love with him.

You felt as if all the heat had been drained from your body and had gone straight to your eyes in hot painful tears as they began to form at your waterlines. You tried to blink them back as best as you could, but you were sure at least Chan and Wonwoo picked up on it as your practical brother in law came over to you asking you to “help him with something” and Wonwoo quickly fixed his posture and demeanor to be straighter and in less pain.

You felt bad. You felt awful. You felt sick to your stomach. You took away a sweet guy’s bed and for what? Because you missed your sister? Because you were too scared to be left alone in a house given your current circumstances? You could’ve came to see her anytime you wanted, she lived down the street. You could’ve told your sister and explained the situation to save Wonwoo the trouble of losing his room.

But you didn’t. You were a selfish coward. A stupid, lovesick, selfish coward.

By the time Chan brought you back up to your sister’s room, the tears were pouring down silently from your eyes. You couldn’t help it. You were already an emotional mess, hurting someone you really kind of liked (even if you had no shot with him) was really the icing on the shitty cake that was now your life.

Omi had Chan take San downstairs to play with the boys and to eat a little something the second she saw the water running down your depressed face.

“What’s wrong ______? I thought everything was okay. Did something happen?” Your sweet sister cooed at you and held you as you sobbed into her shoulder.

She was always your rock. You had lost your mother when you were little and ever since, Omi had taken care of you as if you were her own. Your father disliked the both of you as you were daughters and not sons. She protected you and your brothers as the oldest and always found ways to make you feel like you weren’t alone. You were one of the few family members to stand by her when she ever so bravely went against tradition and defied her husband to save herself and your nephew.

Now here you were wailing like a baby to her after all she herself had been through. What you were going through was nothing in comparison to what she had gone through in your mind.

She survived literal hell and you… well you just had migraines and a sad heart. You couldn’t bother her with your real problems. So you decided to hide some of the truth from her to save her the trouble of having to listen to them.

“I- I am okay. It’s just- just so different from home here,” you spoke to her quietly in your native language. You knew the boys couldn’t understand you even if they could hear you, but you knew your nephew probably could as he was bound to be a wolf someday and no doubt already had the super hearing abilities of one.

Your sister chuckled at you adoringly, “Aya, I know _____, but it’s really better for us here. There’s no war, no plagues or famines, and we can actually have a good family life here.”

Right. SHE could actually have a family. A good one. A better one than the one you had both been born into.

The most human part of you hated her for it, but the sister in you knew she deserved it more than anyone else you had ever known. She deserved to know the happiness you always wished you had. She deserved a family just like you had always dreamed of. She deserved love that neither of you had ever known growing up. She deserved the world.

You lightly laughed along with her while batting the newly formed scorching tears away with your eyelashes, “I know, I know. I’m sorry for crying. It’s just- it takes some getting used to is all.” You lied.

You were already used to it. You loved it. But you refused to let your sister’s newly formed life disappear. You couldn’t have it all come crumbling down for you, which you know she would let happen if she knew the truth. It was best she be kept in the dark. She’d forgive you eventually. She wouldn’t have a choice. She’d have to.

“Oh I know sweetie. But don’t worry, the boys and I will help you as much as we can!” She informed you.

Right. Focus ______. You had to fix your wrongs. No chickening out now. It wasn’t fair for the others to have to take you in. It’s not fair to your sister to have to take you in with how your life was going. They needed free from you.

You gripped onto the sleeve ends of the sweater you were wearing and balled your fists tightly, “Oh right- about that…” You trailed off before taking a deep breath in, “I think- I think it’s best I stay at your house until I can find an apartment for myself…”

She was clearly taken back by your statement as she all but jumped up at the mention of you leaving, “What?!? Why would you do that? You’re staying here! Why would you want to leave?”

“B- because,” you stuttered, “Because I- the boys they-” was all you could get out before she cut you off.

“The boys? What did they do? Did one of them make you feel uncomfortable? Did one of them hurt you or do something to upset you? I swear if they did I’ll-” She interrogated you at lightening speed.

You could tell very well by her angry face that if you let her questions go on much longer without interruption, she’d go downstairs and tear each boy a new one till she found some sort of problem.

“What- no no! Down girl! It’s nothing like that! I just- I- I feel bad. They shouldn’t have to put up with me. I’m not related to any of them or anything like that. I’m just your little sister. And you shouldn’t be responsible for me either.” You didn’t want her to be. Not with what was to come. She needed space from you. She had to have the space from you. It was the only way, “I just- I would just stay over at the other house until I could save up some more money and get a steady job. I feel sorry for even asking to stay there but I wasn’t allowed to bring much with me when they signed off on my visa-”

“You don’t need to feel bad for that ______.” You sister sweetly scolded you as she played with a lock of your hair that would no doubt be gone before the months end, “You’re my sister. I’ll always help you. But I don’t want you to feel that way and I’m positive the others don’t either. We’re happy to have you here.” But others were suffering for you.

People that shouldn’t have to deal with it have to because they’re too polite to put you out. You had to be the bigger person and do it for them before you ended up seriously screwing up one of their lives by being there as an extra mouth to feed. Not to mention, you wouldn’t be so easy to have as a roommate soon.

You gulped down the lump forming in your throat. You knew your insistence on leaving was hurting your sister, her natural glow was turning a gray color, but you had to think about everybody in the house as well as her future mental health, “I just- I think that it would make more sense for me at the other house. Plus that way, no one would have to deal with me being up in the middle of the night with my weird hours or have to give up their room for me. It’s better this way.”

“Wha- what do you mean? If you’re worried about Wonu I can assure you he’s fine just where he is-” You could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke. You could hear the pleading tones in her voice. You just got each other back after years apart. You knew she needed you around to make up for lost time.

But it was better for everyone for you to be gone. The clock was ticking and time was running out.

“It’s not about Wonwoo.” Liar. It was about him. Well, mostly about him anyways.

You wanted to leave so he could have his room back sure, but that’s not the only reason. You were also worried for your bubbling feelings for him on top of his comfort and your sister’s well being. You were already so screwed up, you couldn’t afford to have a broken heart too. And he shouldn’t have to put up with it just to spare your own pathetic feelings.

She huffed loudly with glossy eyes, “Then I don’t understand why you don’t want to be here. Am I- am I spending too much time with Chan? Am I- am I neglecting you too much? Is that it? Because _____, I’ll stop.” She promised you with tears now sliding down her face, “I’m such a bad sister I know. And I know I get too caught up with him sometimes but you’re always a priority to me.”

No. You couldn’t let your sister think she was a bad sister. If anything, YOU were a bad sister.

You had come all this way, jumped through all these hoops and loops just to get here to a free country to be with her when in all reality you were gonna just… no. You couldn’t have her think that.

You pulled your older sister into the biggest tightest hug you could muster with your lack of strength, “No Omira. Listen to me.” You mumbled into her soft hair as you held back a stream of tears that would no doubt never stop if you let them fall once you opened your inner Pandora’s box of feelings, “You are- you are the BEST sister ANYONE could ever have. I don’t EVER want you to think any of this is on you. Remember that. It’s all me okay?” You sniffled, praying your sister heard your words and would remember them when things went bad, “It’s just me. I don’t want anyone to worry about me s’all.” It was true. It was all you. You didn’t want anyone to worry about you, especially her, “And I don’t want you to stop spending time with Channie for me. You deserve the happiness. Don’t ever let anyone take it from you. I’ll be alright.” You pulled back and wiped some of the water that had made its way down her face, taking in every inch of your loving sister’s pretty face and hoping that you would never cause her beautiful smile to falter for too long.

It was better this way. Everyone would be better off. No one would be inconvenienced now. Now one’s feelings would be messed with. And no one would be hurt for longer than they had to. You were making the right decision for everybody involved. You just prayed that one day, no matter how mad they’d be at you for everything that would transpire, that they’d all see you were only doing it for the greater good.

-

It took some more convincing, but eventually she understood that your mind was made up about the idea and agreed to let you leave. And you all but had to beg Chan to make sure she stayed at the house with him so he wouldn’t be separated from his pack.

You hated people being separated from loved ones. You had been for most of your young life and it killed you. You didn’t want to be the cause of your sister staying away from her mate that made her unbelievably happy. And you definitely didn’t want to be the cause of a wolf being separated from his pack, especially when that pack was kind enough to take you in without hesitation.

So that night, right before everyone got home from their classes, you grabbed what little personal belongings you had with you and drug them over to your sister’s old house.

You figured it was best you did it without most of them knowing. They’d just try to stop you. They didn’t even fully really know you but you knew that because you were a mate’s sister that they’d refuse to let you leave. But you had to, for everyone.

So you left a small note thanking Wonwoo for letting you use his room and another for Seungcheol, thanking him for his hospitality, before you left. You knew that it would probably be best to stay away from their house for a few days to hopefully give some time for Wonwoo to enjoy his room guilt free.

Sure It was scary being at the other house all alone, but to you it was scarier to have to stay with the pack. You wanted to be sure your sister wouldn’t get too used to having you around again. You wanted to not burden anybody.

And really, above all else, you just had to be sure your feelings for Wonwoo wouldn’t progress any further for your own sake. Everything would be okay. You just kept repeating the phrase to yourself over and over like a mantra, everyday, in an attempt to convince yourself that everything would, in fact, be okay one day.

But little did you know, everything would very much NOT be okay.

(Edited 10/30/2022)

[amiedala]

Something More (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 1: INTO THE STARS

Rated: Explicit (not this chapter, but future chapters will be)

Warnings: light descriptions of violence

Summary: Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

Or, a slow burn love story across the stars featuring you, Din, and your little green baby. With love, angst, lust, and everything in between following you across the galaxy.*this deviates from canon for the most part, the plot begins at the very end of season 1 and will deviate for about half of season 2! there is LOTS planned for this (i already have 19k words written & will be posting regularly) so i hope you all enjoy!! <3 muah*

this is 1000000% completely inspired by the incredible behemoth SUPREME Mandalorian fic Rough Day by our lord & savior @no-droids but it will have its entire own plot & more of a slowburn in both love & smut, specifically for suffering long haul romance lovers like myself!

i already have 19k words written & will be ATTEMPTING to post updates regularly (and if i get excited about getting new chapters up, they might come early. i'm gonna try to post Saturday evenings every week, extenuating circumstances notwithstanding <3

hope you enjoy!!! more to come VERY SOON!!!

Meeting the Mandalorian was like colliding into the rest of your life at a moment’s notice. Like oh, there you are. It was both jarring and familiar at the same time, like stepping into a minute with no intentions and stepping out of it in deja-vu. You had always been told you made too much out of everything, that you blew up every circumstance to fit some kind of grand destiny, some huge significance. If anyone asked, you’d swear up and down this was different. It was different. The Mandalorian sweeping you off your feet and out of your back alley haunts and narrow escapes was something kismet. Something cosmic. Something more.

You met him on Nevarro. You weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be back in the Mid Rim by that point, long gone from your last mission gone sour. Your ship had broken down and you narrowly escaped a crash landing, and you’d hiked for hours through the unyielding lava fields for the closest town, with nothing but a handful of credits and the clothes on your back. Somehow, miraculously, you were able to grab the last of your water and your mother’s necklace from where it was hanging on the dashboard before the magma had bubbled up and claimed the better half of the old X-wing before you could go back in for more.

“Dank ferrik,” you seethed, and the curse felt alien under your tongue. There was no one out here to hear it but yourself, the lava, and the sulfuric air, anyways, so you grumbled out a few more before the ship fully sank into the magma in front of you.

The ship itself wasn’t a big loss—you’d only gotten it because it was the cheapest after you lost your own to that smuggler, but being stranded on a planet that was so aggressive towards any sort of survival wasn’t the best circumstance in the galaxy. But here you were, stuck, unmoored, anchorless, on a planet not known for anything except its rivers of lava and a bounty hunters’ guild you’d heard about and tried your best to stay away from. That town was the only landmark you had, though, so you begrudgingly trekked across Nevarro’s molten surface in search for any form of civilization.

The sky had started to slip off into darkness, and the small flecks of the other Outer Rim planets glistened lightyears away from where you were hiking when you stumbled over something and nearly fell into what you assumed was a dormant vat of lava. It was only when you scrambled away from the hot pocket of ground that you realized it was a stormtrooper helmet. A stormtrooper helmet with a head still in it. You gasped and skittered away, pushing off the heels of your hands to get upward as fast as you can, not even registering the heat eating through the skin of your palms. You didn’t have a weapon—the old blaster you’d carried for the last few years had been eaten up with the X-Wing—and as your eyes adjusted to a collection of white armor and bodies on the ground, you kicked yourself from not prioritizing the gun over getting out unscathed.

You didn’t scare easy. You grew up on a slowly abandoned Rebel base back on Yavin, and even after your parents’ deaths, you were surrounded by a legion of people who took care of you and taught you how to fight. Really, you were good at getting out of sticky situations that looked too dire to survive—take the crash landing an hour back for example—but you had a giant blind spot of earnestness to believe the people you went into business with were being sincere. That’s how the ship had crashed in the first place, you exchanged a repair of your original starship with providing Alderaanian liquor to a smuggler and his droid back on Dantooine who had both cut and run with it before fully repairing the vitally broken control panel. It was a rookie mistake, which you definitely weren’t, but he had just seemed so earnest in his need for the alcohol, and your fatal flaw was that you always trusted people who needed help. Even to your own detriment.

It had been your downfall back home, and at least twice when you were adventuring through the Outer Rim, and when you narrowly escaped a Deveronian when you had first started out on your own, because you were too close to a scumbag in friend’s clothing who fumbled the bag and left you for dead. He even stole your ship, then, and you had to make a series of sordid deals to get off Polis Massa, let alone find a place where you could crash safely for weeks before you could work up enough credits to get the X-Wing, which was, quite ceremoniously, dead now.

You shivered with the realization that you might be in danger, too. There were so many bodies scattered across this ridge and the next, and a handful of crashed TIE fighters. The sight of them didn’t strike fear into you—they never really had, you were raised in the Alliance and you could outfly the Empire since you were six years old—but they made you feel uneasy. Nevarro didn’t have a Rebel base, and you had never met someone in the Alliance who was from the planet. With the obvious show of Imperial affiliation and the bounty hunters’ guild, Nevarro was seedy enough that it kept you on edge as you walked, hopefully towards a town with people who didn’t want anything more from you than an easy job.

It must have been near dawn when you finally made it to the edge of the town. It was at best shot to all hell and at worst absolutely obliterated. Your heart sank. There were more dead suits of white armor scattered across the dirt and sand. There were helmets on pikes that looked far too fresh. Your hand twitched near your thigh where your blaster was usually strapped. All of this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have left the blaster in the ship. If you were really playing the game of regrets, though, you never should have helped the smuggler. You should have paid the fifteen more credits to get the X-Wing fixed on Tatooine instead. You should have stayed on Yavin after your parents died and shouldn’t have been so earnest to make it on your own and—

“Hey.” The voice came from behind you, and you whipped around so fast your hair fell from where the clasp had been hanging on to nothing but a prayer since your crash landing. You shook it away from your face, eyes squinted at the figure that seemed to materialize behind you. “Where are you from, pretty thing?”

“Coruscant,” you lied through your teeth. The name of the planet you’ve been trying to avoid for years burns a hole through your belly.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” He stepped into the light, and he wasn’t human. You didn’t know what he was, exactly, but his tone made your skin crawl. You held your ground.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m looking for a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Like hell he was. You clenched your jaw, trying to look menacing. The grease and sweat from the hike there was smeared on your face, your pants had gotten ripped while climbing out of the crash. You didn’t like how his eyes fixated hungrily on the flesh of your exposed thigh, and you had to shake the thought away while you walked into a voice much more brazen than your own.

“Do you know how to fix an X-Wing?” You stepped forward, and the Rebel insignia on your necklace glinted in the low light. Around these parts, after the fall of the Empire, you’ve heard Rebels strike fear into the local folk. Suddenly, the guy took a step backward, and you reveled in your menace for a split second before you realized someone was standing behind you.

He didn’t speak again before he took off. You stuttered, the sudden appearance of the figure behind you catching in your chest, and it rose to a cut off yelp when a red blast knocked the one who had hit on you off his feet, spiraling over a stormtrooper body, falling to the rocky floor. Dead. He was dead. You spun, praying that your heart hammering in your chest was just leftover adrenaline and not a signifier of a new threat.

Standing behind you, outfitted entirely in silver reflective armor, was a Mandalorian. “Nevarro doesn’t have mechanics.”

You squinted. You were completely taken aback by his presence, his hulking realness, but suddenly his statement overpowered your revelry. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That X-Wing crashed out there is yours.” It isn’t a question. His voice is deep, a baritone that spreads warmth even blocked by the modulator in his helmet. You’d only heard of Mandalorians in stories, legends, around the campfires growing up. You didn’t expect one to ever materialize in anything other than myth, let alone stand in front of you, electric.

You nod. Did he follow you all the way to town?

“You aren’t looking for a mechanic.” His voice is so sure, so big. Your world spins on its axis, the feeling foreign and familiar all at once. He had spoken three sentences to you, and already, you felt that dizzy, magnetic pull that you tried to convince yourself was there much more often than it was.

“I…” You trail off, staring up at his visor. He seems larger than life, much larger than you, at least, and for some reason, the hugeness is cutting off all of your words before they can fully form. “No. I need a way off this planet, though.”

“Can you fly?”

You balk at his question, annoyed—obviously, you could fly—and then remember the only track record you have in the Mandalorian’s eyes is your ship, crash landed and then immediately swallowed by lava. “I’m a pilot. A runner. I’ve been flying since I was six years old.”

He takes a minute, completely silent. The noise of the scattered stormtrooper bodies around you suddenly seems deafening. You aren’t scared of him. You think. Your heart is still hammering, but it’s nothing like the fear that rushed through you when the alien talked to you a few minutes ago. It’s different—not adrenaline, exactly, and not fear. You place the feeling when it washes over you again, warm and unexpected—Excitement.

“Okay.” He moves, and you startle. You didn’t realize the conversation was over.

“Uh,” you stammer, “Do you… do you need a pilot?”

“No,” he says, over his shoulder. His strides are long. You step forward, almost pulled after him, then stuttered to a stop. “But I might be your only ride out of here.”

“Oh,” you manage, and then follow him. The dim light spreads over the horizon as you walk, stunned into silence by his own, trying to mimic his step, his quiet. It doesn’t happen. You’re clunking along beside him, the noise made even louder by the silence in his gait. “I’m not picky, where we go, you know—I was heading away from the Outer Rim, so I’m in no rush to get back there, but—I mean, I’m thankful that you’re taking me anywhere—”

“I can’t pay you. But you don’t have to pay me, either.”

You blink, feet stuttering to a near stop, buffering before you remember to keep following him. “I’m sorry?”

“You can fly, right?”

You blink, eyes darting up to the back of his helmet. It might just be the modulator, but there’s no air in his voice, no struggle to cross the hard, hot terrain. It’s impressive. “I can, but you thought you didn’t need a pilot—?”

“You were a rebel.” His voice is curt. Quick.

Your eyebrows furrow, looking down at the insignia on your necklace and then back up at him. There’s a dry breeze over the molten moors, and his cape catches in the wind. It flutters. It’s the first sign of something gentle about him. It’s the memory you take with you for months later, savoring it for when he’s leaving you on the ship while he goes and catches his bounties, one by one. You cling to it in the long lapses of time where he doesn’t offer you anything but silence. You’ll hold onto it, a butterfly of a memory, for weeks—until he offers you something softer, something warmer. Something real.

You don’t know that in the moment, though. Right now, he’s asked a question, and you’re struggling to answer it honestly. “I was.”

“You don’t scare easily.”

It’s like he’s putting together these impossible puzzle pieces of your life. How is he guessing this? He’s known you for maybe ten whole minutes. It swells in your chest, a thunderbird of a thing, and you don’t know why.

“I’d like to think so,” you manage, as he tilts his helmet back to search you for your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of his eyes on you, and you wonder what color they are. Maker. Where did that come from?

“Good.”

A ship seems to materialize out of nowhere, but it seems more likely that you were so caught up in the mystery of the Mandalorian and keeping your gaze locked on him that his ship was in the periphery of your vision. You follow him, still confused, up the descended gangplank. Sitting in the middle of the ship is a tiny green baby, with eyes ten times the size of its nose, with peach fuzz lazily dusting the top of its head. It’s holding a tiny silver ball in its three-fingered hands, looking up at the Mandalorian with outstretched arms.

You watch, in stunned silence, as the giant hulking silver figure crouches down to pick up the baby, meeting its little coos with soft words right back. It’s as soft as his cape fluttering in the wind, an unexpected, fleeting feeling of warmth. You don’t know what to do with yourself. The warm breeze buffets the small of your back, ruffles your loose hair. You just stand there, entirely enamored with this tiny green baby in the Mandalorian’s arms, speechless.

“You don’t scare easily,” the Mandalorian repeats.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He holds the baby up to you. “How about now?”

You blink, confused. “Am I supposed to be scared of it?”

“Him.”

You take a tentative step forward, gaze flickering between the two of them, wondering what would have happened if you had crash landed literally anywhere else, at literally any other time. Something big and ceremonious swells somewhere deep in your chest.

“I’m not scared,” you finally say, and when your eyes find his visor again, you hope he knows you mean you’re not scared of either of them. You could be—most people with common sense are struck with fear at the sight of meeting a Mandalorian, especially one associated with such a widespread bounty hunters’ guild—but fear just keeps getting pushed away as the seconds pass. A small voice in the back of your head whispers that this is another mistake of being too trustful, but the larger half of you knows how to handle yourself if you find trouble. Besides, he has a tiny alien kid, and something tells you the Mandalorian wouldn’t put the baby in a situation that he deemed unsafe. As the door zips shut behind you, you step forward into the ship—into the place you’ll eventually make your home—heart still hammering on and on, thrumming as the three of you lift off of Nevarro’s surface and into the stars.

[fyeahbatcat]

There’s not much about him for Catwoman to like so the attraction comes off as superficial.

i actually think it was supposed to? considering her girlfriend had just been killed, i'm pretty sure she was just using batman (a masked guy who offers no information about himself, with whom a relationship seems very unlikely to lead anywhere) to not think about her. i got very much rebound vibes from them, which i'm not against for a first meeting

(also, i very much agree with you on bruce not having a personality outside of batman. everyone seems to be loving emo raccoon bruce and i'm sitting here with the scene where the mayor said he didn't do any philanthropy playing on loop in my head. i've seen people say his public persona - and i guess responsibility as a ceo - simply 'hadn't been created yet', which i can reluctantly accept, but not doing any charity???? at all???? meaning he went as far as discontinuing the charity projects his parents had surely set up??? and i'm supposed to believe he's a good person???)

Yeah. Yeah, yeah that’s a good point. It could be that Selina was trauma bonded to him because he was present when Annika went missing and turned up dead, so he was the only person she could sort of turn to at that moment rather than attracted to him. I know some people felt the same about batcat after season one of the Telltale games where it was kind of a whirlwind relationship and ended up being more like a fling so it could similar to that.

I’m not sure anything that had to do characterization was intentional. It just seems like to me they didn’t put that much thought into it. It was like they were doing standard a Batman and Catwoman romance because it’s what you do. They make out a couple of times because that’s what they do and we’re not supposed to think about it that much. Which is fine; I’m not going to complain about Batman and Catwoman getting together in a movie, but lmao they do this all the time. They’ve been making out for over 80 years. This isn’t some new groundbreaking concept. If you want me to get really excited about it I need more depth.

I’m trying my best to give Reeves the benefit of the doubt that this is all part of the plan, but accepting a Bruce Wayne that isn’t involved in any charities, turned a blind eye that allowed the mob to loot the city renewal fund that his parents set up, and let the orphanage become a crack den is kind of a big ask.

I try not to compare movies to previous films, because I don’t think it’s fair to the film-makers, but it really got me thinking about Batman Begins. One of my favorite scenes in BB is when Bruce goes to confront Carmine Falcone and Falcone tells him that he thinks his life is hard because his parents were murdered, but he’s never had to suffer like others have, and Bruce is like “damn he’s right, I don’t know shit” so he temporarily gives up his wealth to understand what people go through. What he learned is that most people commit crimes because they’re desperate and trying to survive, and he takes that lesson with him when he goes back to Gotham. When Gordon meets “Batman” for the first time he asks him if he’s one man, and Batman says “No, we’re two.” I think that’s what he meant. Batman and Bruce Wayne are seeking to help Gotham City in the way that it needs through two different methods of addressing crime. The philanthropic route and the vigilante route. 

Anyway, I’m just trying to Trust the Process™ and believe that this is all part of Reeve’s plan for Batman/Bruce’s character development and evolution as a hero, but I need to see where this is going.

[meanhoeforcb97]

Guess Who [Pt.1]

Pairing: Bang Chan x Minho x Felix x Fem!Reader

Genre: Kinda suggestive

Warnings: Series contains smut but not this part, swearing, hickeys (I think that's it???)

Requested: Nope

Words: 1,5k (I think this is my shortest one so far lmaoo)

Note: This is the fastest I've ever worked on a piece OMG xD This hasn't been proof-read so I'm sorry in advance lmaoo (also this is my first ever foursome so it might get a little messy in the 2nd part djdjdb)

You were drifting off to the sound of your earphones' music on the living room's couch when suddenly you were shaken awake by none other than the sunshine of your life Lee Felix (note the sarcasm)- that little fucker always bothered you in the worst times possible. Groaning and turning your back to him you tried falling asleep once again but with no avail since he was still shaking you rather harshly and whining at you to wake up.

"Felix I swear to God if there isn't a fucking fire I'm gonna fucking murder your for waking me up." You groan as you turn to look at him with your sleepy and blurry eyes only to see him looking at you with sparkling puppy eyes and pouty lips. You felt flustered by both his expression and by the close proximity of your faces-mere inches apart.

"I-I.. what i-is it?" You asked as you begun to raise your body to sit on the couch properly.

"I was bored and wanted to play a game with Channie hyung but the game he suggested needs at least three people.. I didn't mean to upset you, sorry..." He said as a sad expression covered his once bright face. He stood up from the floor in front of you where he was previously kneeling and started to walk away. Feeling shocked and guilty for yelling at him you reached out and grabbed his hand in yours.

"No wait!" You said and he slowly and very dramatically turned around to look at you- exaggerating his pout in the process. "I didn't mean to tell at you, I am just tired and grumpy.. sorry Lixie.." You said also pouting. After a moment of silence and just starring at each other you spoke up again.

"..So.." He raised an eyebrow implying you should continue "what game were you guys thinking about?" Just as those words left your lips he immediately smiled so wide that his eyes disappeared and his pearly white teeth were blinding your vision. "Let's go and you'll see!" He exclaimed as he pulled you up and basically dragged you to Chan's room. When inside the bedroom, he let go of your hand and motioned you to sit down so they could explain the game. "So basically, we're going to play 'Guess Who'. In this game one player guesses is blindfolded and the rest take turns in doing things like touching them, holding their hand and so on. If the player guesses right they take the point and the rest a penalty if the player fails to guess correctly they take the penalty and the rest of the team the point." Chan explained and you nodded, it was pretty easy. "So who wants to start?" Felix said looking at you and then at Chan. You didn't answer feeling a bit nervous, Chan sighed slightly and stood up, "I will" he said as he went into his closet and disappeared for a minute or two. He came back with a black blindfold in his hands. Your eyes widened at the sight of silky fabric and your mouth fell agape. You decide against asking him why he even had such a thing in his closet since you figured you weren't ready to hear the answer.

However that didn't stop your brain from going other places wondering what else he had hiding in that closet or his. Your cheeks flushed and the heat travelled down but you quickly snapped yourself out or your trance and focused on your BEST FRIENDS that's all they were, just your best friends. "Y/n?" Chan called out to and you quickly snapped your head to look at him. "Yes?" You gulped and Felix smiled and cooed at you reaching out to pat your head. "Awww look how nervous she is to touch Channie hyung! Can't wait to see how flustered she'll be when it's her turn!" He said, the last part making your eyes widen and you gasped. "I-I'm not!" You huffed without thinking. "Oh?" Chan said surprised, "okay... help me put the blindfold on." He said a michivieous smile threatening to appear on his plump cherry lips. You stood up with no hesitation evident in your actions but your mind was screaming at you at that very moment. "Turn around." You commanded and Chan with a slight curve of his lips did as instructed. You took the silk out of his hands and very carefully and slowly placed it over his eyes after folding it in half to make sure he couldn't see through the material. Tying it tight enough to be secure you asked if it was too tight and the elder shook his head negatively. You took a step back to look at him and he looked so fucking ethereal at that moment. His pale skin complemented the dark shiny piece of fabric really well and his brown hair fell elegantly over his eyebrows. You helped him sit down at the chair in the middle of the room. When he was seated comfortably you and Felix looked at each other trying to decide who would go first. You shrugged your shoulders and he and he motioned you'd do rock paper scissors, in the meantime Chan was sweating in anticipation. Who would touch him? Where? How? Everything was overcrowding his brain and making him feel light-headed. Suddenly he felt a hand in his hair caressing through his soft locks affectionately. He hummed lowly in enjoyment and he hoped no one noticed. "Felix?" He said and you clapped twice meaning correct. "What do you want the penalty to be?" You asked and he hummed deep in thought. "Erm, for every penalty you owe me one snack of my choice?" He asked and you all agreed. Felix stepped back and you guys started faking footsteps around him to confuse him before Felix went closer to him again and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Chan gasped shortly before smiling smugly "Felix again. Y/n would never do this, she's too shy" Chan said in a tone just as smug as his smile and you clapped twice again but much more irritated than before. And you were lowkey offended. He was right but still! You were tired if them thinking of you as some sort of saint virgin-which you definitely were not. You faked steps again and came closer to Chan holding your hair back with one hand, you gulped slightly before diving into his neck. You left a wet, open-mouthed kiss there and bit the skin right after, and lastly you topped it of by sucking slightly. This time chan yelped loudly and almost moaned, you felt the vibrations traveling from his neck to your mouth, and even though you know it wasn't intentional you couldn't help the heat from growing in your pelvic area.

"F-felix again?" He asked, you smirked and sucked on his neck harshly (not enough to leave a mark) before stepping back. "Wrong." You said boldly right next to his ear, almost grazing it with your lips. "Too shy my ass." You mocked and Felix whistled "Damn girl! Wow, just wow" he said speechless before approaching you and Chan, "My turn." He said taking the blindfold away from Chan. The eldest helped him put it on and Felix looked just as pretty with it on making heat pool in your underwear for nth time that evening. His silver hair stood out well with the black fabric on his beautiful face and even though majority of his freckles were covered up the few that were still visible made a huge difference on how innocent he looked even when he was blindfolded. Once again you found yourself going down the unholy lane and had to quickly snap yourself out of it for the second time in the last 20 minutes. You looked at Chan and he smiled showcasing his dimples before he motioned you to start. You frowned at him as you walked up to Felix. You leaned don and placed a hand on his chest before kissing his cheek—trying to keep it PG13 this time. Felix laughed slightly "Nice try y/n I'd recognize Chan's lips anytime." He said making you slap his shoulder in embarrassment. "Your lips are so soft though! One more? Please?" He whined and you laughed before kissing his cheek again, he smiled wildly and you stepped back. The game went on and it was finally your turn.

As you were taking the blindfold off Felix the bedroom door opened. "What the..." Minho let out before he smirked. "Having fun I see?" He said and you blushed deeply "N-No! Its not what it looks like!" Chan just laughed and explained the game to him. "You guys are fucking boring, wanna enhance the game a bit?" He said with a mischievous cat-like grin and you gulped as the boys all nodded in agreement and you hesitantly did the same.

[fallen029]

Poison

They'd been dating, off and on, for about six months. Laxus had been laid up some, from a rough job, but also had the misfortune of running through most of his usual dates. Which was fine. Left with all the time in the world to heal up, he was more than game to find more, well, game.

But this didn't necessarily come to fruition.

It was weird.

Mirajane Strauss was quite clearly attractive.

Only a blind man would deny it.

But there were many attractive women in their guild. Too many, almost. And while he liked to flirt around the edge with some of them, most weren't really worth his time.

Or, uh, well...interested in him, if he could allow his ego to admit it (he typically couldn't).

Still, Mira was someone that he had something of a rapport with, a thing he lacked with many of the other women. She seemed to be feeling rather disappointed for him, saddled with a broken bone, and intent on brightening his spirits. When she had a break in her work, she would frequently linger around his table, making their same small talk as usual, and Laxus found himself enjoying it more than he usually would.

Things were nice in the beginning.

But the beginning was over too soon.

He stuck around too long one night, drinking, and Mira insisted he stay the night at the guildhall, else he risk, in his drunk stupor, injuring himself further on the walk home with his crutches. This was innocent enough and Laxus was sure that she had no real intentions behind it, but that left him up at the hall with her, alone, watching as the barmaid closed down for the night.

"C'mon, demon," he insisted with a bit of a drunken edge to his voice. "Have at least one more shot with me, eh?"

She refused his first offer, but luckily (or un, perhaps), he made multiple.

And it only took one shot to convince Mira that yes, she should do more.

The next day was awkward, but the following wasn't nearly as much, and Laxus made some sort of a jest, over the woman taking advantage of his state, considering his broken leg and all, and Mira thought that was so very funny and maybe he got too drunk, again, to go home, and what would Mira be? Leaving a crippled man all alone in a big guildhall?

They didn't want anyone to know about them. Which was hard. Because they slowly became all either could think about. Laxus was around the hall constantly then, not just from boredom from his injury now, but with a vested interest in the head barmaid, while Mirajane seemed to suddenly find time to take a vacation day or two, and oh, didn't she deserve it? Everyone thought so.

Especially Laxus, who very much appreciated every second they were given alone together.

The woman still, for some reason Laxus couldn't quite grasp (being an only child, he found the idea of siblings frightening, especially the way the Strausses dealt with one another), lived with both her siblings. Which severely limited the places where they could go to be alone. If it wasn't the hall after hours, then it had to either be one of the seedy motels that he didn't quite want to admit the woman he might have frequented at one point in his life (or she him) or, as much as Laxus hated it, the best option of all; his apartment.

"Getting to see how the great Laxus Dreyar lives?" Mira whistled low, the first time she was welcomed to messy apartment. "Wow."

"Yeah, well, I do what I- Hey, are you mocking me?"

Mira only giggled in reply and it was fine, honestly. The more the woman found herself around, the more the apartment found itself rather clean and Laxus lost some of his reserves over keeping his bachelor pad all bottled up to himself.

Time felt different in those days.

In a way he hadn't felt it since he was a child.

He had a routine again, one that wasn't adherent to a strict training regimen or rigorous job schedule, but rather the standard workday.

When he was a boy, he would sit up at the hall, listening to stories from all the old members, waiting for his grandfather to finish up his masterly duties for the day so that they could go have some fun. It wasn't that different with Mirajane. She stopped taking double shifts and would be finished up by mid to late afternoon, with Laxus only lingering around a short amount of time after her escape, finding his own on a hobbled trek back to his apartment, where the woman would be waiting.

They weren't out having adventures. Or spending the fleeing daylight by doing anything too exotic. But it felt so, to him at least. Adventurous and exotic in it's own right, allowing such a connection, such a bond, to begin to form.

For what could have been the worst months of his life, Laxus had to tack them up there with some of the best.

It felt absurd to say, but sitting around his apartment, eating takeout and talking to Mirajane, seriously just talking sometimes or listening to her toy at her guitar… It was the most fun he'd had. The most free he'd felt.

For a man that had all the power in the world, the ability to tackle any job posted, travel the continent at will, someone being confined to the guildhall and his apartment supplied him with some actual fresh air. Or at least perspective.

He almost felt robbed of something, when it was finally time for his cast to be removed.

This wouldn't be the obvious end to things, as he would still need some time to fully regain the mobility in his leg, deal with the conditioning that he now lacked, being out of action for so long. His training, which included the Thunder Legion, now made spending time with the woman more tricky and maybe, if they were better people, they could have stopped it there.

Seen where things were headed.

But Mira always seemed to have her head stuck in the clouds and Laxus, for once, found himself too attached for once, and though the bandage had begun to be peeled back, there was still some adhesive holding fast.

So he'd just have to suck it up and finish the job.

Their time together was tight already and Laxus put it off for as long as he could, honestly, but one day when Mirajane arrived at his apartment with dinner for the two of them, he didn't have nearly the same light behind his eyes that he had in recent months. When she questioned him a bit, over dinner, when she talked a mile a minute and he just sat there, gloomily, back to his old self, maybe, only offering up nods and sighs.

The man, as was becoming rather obvious, was anything but coy.

Still, he found that he didn't quite know how to express to the woman what was eating at him. These weren't exactly the kind to seek a woman out, just to end things with her. But Mira was different. Not even necessarily from the standpoint of his feelings, but also due to her proximity whether they continued to date or not.

She was a part of Fairy Tail. At times, it felt like more so than he was. One of the main reasons for avoiding such relationships up at the hall (again, ignoring the outright disdain he cultivated among other members at time) was due simply to the fact that it would be awkward.

When things were over.

And with him things, inevitably, would find themselves coming to an end.

He wasn't a good person.

Or at least he very infrequently felt like one.

To a mate, at least.

Laxus knew for certain he was a changed man, following the events of his excommunication. Seriously. His whole outlook on life was altered. It went further than just learning to respect his grandfather or guild or the members that dwelled there. Laxus now saw the world from a perspective he'd originally rejected; everyone else's. He wasn't the only person in the guild, in the world, that mattered and while he was a big hole to fill, everyone could be replaced.

So you had to appreciate what you had while you had it.

But...he had difficulty carrying this over into the dating world. Opening up to someone was difficult and caring when someone did so to you was even harder. This was easily excusable for the man, as he found many of his faults were, because clearly he just didn't want that sort of relationship. Didn't need it.

He had the Thunder Legion. For his emotional support. They felt far closer to him than any woman ever could be. All three of him. Knew more about him than any partner ever should.

Friends were enough.

His best friends were enough.

Until...they weren't.

Those past few months, with Mirajane, well, he just hadn't felt that sort of exhilaration in a long time. He'd closed himself off to it, maybe, been so convinced he didn't need it that he never gave himself a chance to experience it.

Sometimes he saw the same woman. A lot. And then he'd just stop. Wouldn't come around as much. Go out on a long job. Not write. Avoid her when he came back to town. There weren't these big moments.

He wouldn't be able to summon up the energy for them, honestly.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," Laxus found himself reply, eventually. "About… You know, I'm pretty much healed up now."

"Oh, I know." Mira smiled over from her half of the table, still picking at her meal. "I'm so happy for you. I'm sure it's been torture being cooped up all this time."

"Not torture, no, but-"

"You're so used to traveling though," she cut him off. "It was hard for me, when I had to take a break for awhile. Hang around the bar. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love it now, but at first… It can just be a big adjustment, you know?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I know."

Still, Mira only eyed him again before asking simply, "Are you sure you're okay? Lax? Is there something else?"

"I…"

He swallowed and almost balked. Backed out and decided not to tell her. Before he left. And come back from his job and pretend like this never happened. He imagined Mirajane, who was used to playing many different roles in her life, would give into that rather easily.

But there was something in him that didn't allow this. Something he didn't quite understand. The time he'd spent with Mirajane meant something, he knew that, and maybe for that reason he felt a duty to her, to insure that he'd at least accurately explained himself.

If only to spare her feelings all he could.

"I'm going to be gone," he decided. "For awhile, probably. I want to take a long job. And I know that we've spent a lot of time together, but-"

"Laxus," she intervened before giving him a bit of a smile. "I know."

"I- You what?"

"I," she insisted. "know. I get it, okay? We don't have to do this."

"This?"

She frowned, not quite getting why he was now the one pretending to be confused and only explained, "You're breaking up with me."

He sat there for a moment, considering what she'd said before asking, "How do you know that?'

"Because I'm not stupid, Laxus." Mira sighed some before going back to her food. "It's not like I haven't been thinking of it too."

"Thinking of what?"

"Laxus-"

"Thinking about what, Mirajane?"

"About this. This...time." She dropped her fork just to gesture vaguely with both hands. "Together. It's been...something else, but I'm dumb. I know that you're going to go back on the road and that it's over. It's okay."

"No." He felt like she'd pulled the rug out from under him. How could that be, huh? That the woman was one step ahead of him? "You can't just… I had so many things I wanted to say and-"

"You can still say them." She even shrugged a bit, but it was sadly now and he'd zapped it right out of her, that joy she'd had before. Distantly, he wondered it was all an act with him too. The whole time. Another pretend character like what she played up at the bar. He'd felt that he was getting the real her, this whole time, as he gave himself in return, but now he just felt duped. Even as she insisted, "It's not like you're leaving tonight."

Swallowing some, Laxus looked down instead, at his own meal, before asking, "What would you have done if I didn't say anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't say anything, tonight, and then left next week," he questioned, "would you have still felt this way? How you do now?"

Mira was the one to pause then, but again, he could only get that sad, pitiful shrug out of the woman as she said, "I know you, Laxus. Even before this time that we've spent together. You're poison. And to a certain extent, I guess I am too. Things don't last, with others, when it comes to the two of us. I didn't have to worry about how you felt because I know, just the same as me, you get it. If anything, I'm a little disappointed you thought I'd be crushed over losing you."

The night never picked back up and Mira didn't spend it with him. Instead, they parted in his living room, not with their usual, sensual kisses and hugs, but rather the woman pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and him glancing away, somehow feeling more exposed, in this final night, than he had the entire length of their romance.

Someone else was on shift when he came by the bar, that following week, to pick up his first job back.

Just as he'd intended, it was a nice and long one. The Thunder Legion wanted to go with him, either as a group or at least one of them, individually, to scope out his readiness, but Laxus rebuked them and instead headed out alone.

It was a much a step back into his old life as it was a funeral for his former.

Or at least it started out that way.

He wanted to be sad. Over Mirajane.

At first.

And then he wanted to be angry.

To which he got really close.

Finally, he wanted to just move on.

He really seriously did.

That was the original idea, anyways, to be able to come back and for their relationship (or whatever it had been) to be old news. For Mira to go back to serving him drinks and the occasional sass while Laxus admired her, or at least her strength, and they could be friends.

Distant ones, but still closer than he was with most others in the bar.

It should have made it easier, right? That Mira seemed content with this idea too? She'd been resound, before he even got his words out, and that was just the best. For the best too. They were on the same page, even in a breakup.

This was literally the most amicable a split could ever be.

And yet…

The Thunder Legion was waiting for him, up at the guildhall, when he returned from his just over four week journey. He should have immediately set into berating them, as he was certain they'd been derelict in taking their own jobs, just to hang around, to be there for him when he got back, but he didn't have time.

He hardly even noticed them.

Honest.

Mirajane was working, back on her normal schedule actually. Which would be no off time ever because where else would she go? Than the bar? All her friends were there. Periodically. A rotating door of them, one leaving for a job only for another to appear, returning.

Lucy, in fact, was around that day, seated up at the bar. Mira had spent most of her shift there, honestly, as the celestial mage had much to share with her, after being away for a week.

She'd just been called away though, Mira had, by a waving hand and a drunk request for a refill, and she left Lucy with a smile in place of excusing herself, rushing right over to take care of the patron. It was while she was refilling the mug though that she caught it, sensed it, could feel it.

Him.

Laxus had an air about him that was difficult to dismiss, last half of the year or not.

She'd been prepping for this. Had her plastered on smile down, knew exactly what she'd say to him. Ask him politely about his trip, ask if he wanted his usual, and then use the man's no doubt unease to slink away from the situation. It would be that easy.

It should have been that easy.

Because she was banking on Laxus behaving how she envisioned. He did most of the time. The man thought that he was deep and complex, but honestly, he was just moody and predictable.

He should have wanted away from her just as much as she did him. To have avoided speaking to her, outside of the necessary first conversation, and then they could just begin hedging their lives away from one another.

But he approached her.

First.

As she was backing away from the table she'd just served, he walked right up to her, bypassing the curious Thunder Legion, and instead coming to a stop before the barmaid.

"Laxus." She wasn't that flustered and only began on her intended small talk. "How was your first-"

He kissed her.

He just took her face in his hands, stopping her predetermined greeting in a gesture that made that entire guildhall stop what they were doing. Everyone was staring, something that both Mira and Laxus were used to, when it came to magic, but neither were too public about such excessive affection. And when they broke apart, this showed by the slight tint in Laxus cheeks and Mira only turned her head from him a bit, thoroughly stumped.

"You shouldn't," she finally whispered in the otherwise silent guildhall, "kiss someone. Laxus. Like that. It's invasive."

He blinked some, the man did, but didn't take a step back. Instead, he only whispered back, "I'm sorry." When she looked ready to reply though, he only continued, "About it all. Mira. I… I shouldn't have tried to break up with you. I shouldn't have let you break up with me. Well, at least not without countering some things. Because yeah, you know, things are going to be different. From the past few months. Fine. But...why do they have to go back to how they were? Huh? Why can't they just keep being different? From then too? And we just...try? I'm not saying that I want to, like, be together forever or anything, although I'm not saying I don't want that either, I just…"

"Laxus," she tried to intervene. "We don't have to-"

"Let me finish." And he huffed a bit. Because he'd floundered before, been uncertain of the words he was looking for. Back at his apartment. But maybe that was because he wasn't meant to say them. They weren't mean to come out. He couldn't find something didn't exist. But now, ruminating for over a month on these words, this set, he knew, finally, exactly what he wanted to say. "I'm poison. Fine. If that's what you think. And maybe you are too. But… I liked being with you. More than I've liked being with literally anyone I've known in the past decade. More than I like being alone, even, and you know how much I like that! I just… I don't think we can throw something away, say that it's tainted, that it's poisoned, before it's gone bad. Why would we ever want to do that to ourselves?"

He'd felt impassioned, before, but as he let out that final breath, his chest heaved a bit. It had been so quiet in the hall, with only him speaking, that it was almost easy to pretend like they were back in those few months, when they were all alone, in the empty guild. But it wasn't empty, right now, and for once, the heavy gaze of all his guild mates was almost too much to bear.

"I was going to say," Mira began then with a bit of a frown, "that maybe we could go somewhere in private to talk this over."

Laxus blinked. Then he frowned as well. "Then why didn't you?"

"You told me to talk!"

"Mira-"

"I'll have to think about this, Laxus."

"Yeah, well-"

"Okay!" And she bounced some, having taking just a moment to turn and tap a finger against her lip before pouncing on him, the man just barely catching her in his arms as the woman decided, "I guess we can do this till we die."

"I said I didn't want to be with you forever," he complained as their dimwitted guild mates, still not entirely sure what they were witnessing, cheered, at least some of them, as this seemed like a happy enough resolution. "Demon."

"You said," she remarked simply, "that you weren't sure. And thinking that your dying signifies forever is a bit conceded, don't you think? Dragon?"

"What?"

She released him instead of explaining, remarking simply in a more hushed tone, "We talk. Alone. After hours."

The man eyed her for a moment before nodding because it was true enough. They did need to speak. Honestly. Alone.

And they would. In a few hours. When there were no other eyes and it was easier for Laxus to explain in a way that wasn't so preachy and Mira didn't have to put on her dim facade, not necessarily challenging the man, but confirming with him, in a way they'd yet to do, just how serious they each wanted this relationship to be.

Considering he'd more than outed them to the guildhall, Mira felt as if he was leaning towards very.

And as she'd given hi the fairy tale ending (at least in front of the others), Laxus imagined she wanted the same.

He slunk back off, the softening of his character not one to be trusted by any other. Only the Thunder Legion chased after him, when he left the bar for the time being, intending to return hours later, and it was just as well. It wasn't him that all the others wanted a piece of.

"Mira," Elfman complained over most everyone else. "What was that? Huh?"

But she didn't answer him, instead heading over to the bar, becoming used to the gazes it seemed, and instead only leaning over it with a sigh as she looked the blushing Lucy in the eyes.

"U-Uh, so…" The celestial mage began. "You and Laxus, huh?"

Mira nodded, but only insisted, "I wanna hear about the rest of your job. Natsu did what to the town?"

"Destroyed it," Lucy said more concisely. "But Mira-"

"Well," Mira offered with a bit of a shrug. "He is known for that."

And Lucy, still wanting all the same juicy information that all the others did, only gave in a bit, nodding as she said, "But maybe one day he'll change."

"Yeah," the barmaid agreed. "Maybe."

.

This is the last thing I got planned for Miraxus week. I know I got all the days jumbled up, but hey, we can only try.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.4 (BAON)

Summary:  Jeff doesn't know where they are or where they're going, but he knows one thing. It's probably not good.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time the van came to a stop, Stretch still hadn’t woken up. Not that it mattered very much, there wasn’t a thing Jeff could have done to change their situation. At the moment, they were very much outnumbered, overpowered, and even if he’d had a clue where they were, it wouldn’t have done them any good. Before they dragged him out of the van, one of the thugs yanked a bag over his head. Blinded, he struggled to stumble along as two guys pulled him out, trying not to cry out as they led him barefoot across crumbling asphalt into a building with rough carpet.

He kept as quiet as he could, trying to not only listen in case they said anything useful, but also for Stretch, praying to a God he hadn’t spoken to since he was fifteen and his father threw him out that they didn't hurt Stretch. Jeff could survive a few bumps and bruises, but he didn't know how much Stretch could withstand. Intent was key when it came to Monsters, he knew that much, and these guys seemed to have plenty.

At first, he tried to keep track of where he was being led. An impossible effort when the twists and turns of being dragged along left him too disoriented to know his way up or down. They seemed to walk forever until his captors suddenly stopped and Jeff was shoved down into a chair. Rough hands grabbed at him, rope suddenly binding his wrists and ankles. He didn’t struggle as he was tied, only tried to tense his muscles as much as possible, some shitty internet meme he vaguely remembered reading said that it could help slip free later.

Turned out memes weren’t the best source for escape plans. When they were done, Jeff subtly tried to move and the best he could manage was a painful rope burn. The ropes felt like they were wound through the slats in the chair and unless Houdini decided to make good on his possible return from the other side, Jeff was going nowhere fast.

He could hear their captors moving around, muttering too low to be understood and the other sounds might have been more rope. Tying up Stretch, maybe, he hoped that’s what it was; at least if they were together, that was something, hell, that was everything right now.

The bag suddenly getting ripped off his head made him gasp, flinching from the glaring light pointed directly into his face. Squinting, he could barely see the shadowy figures standing behind it, but he was sure he could see a cell phone pointed in his direction.

“Say your name,” a rough voice demanded.

“Andy—” he began automatically. “No, Jeff, I’m sorry, Jeff! My name is Jeff!” There was nothing else and Jeff shifted, grimacing as the ropes dug in. It was on the tip of his tongue to go on, to blurt that he worked in public relations, that he was nobody important and not worth ransoming. He bit the inside of his lip to keep those rambles from pouring out. Partly because it was probably stupid to tell kidnappers your value or lack thereof, and partly because of Edge. He’d always told them to never offer more information than was necessary and yeah, he’d been talking about board games at the time, but Jeff doubted that Clue was where Edge learned that particular rule. If these assholes wanted more info, they could damn well ask.

Either his name was all they wanted or they already had whatever other info they needed. Jeff didn’t even have a chance to try squinting through the too-bright light when one of them came towards him and yanked the bag back over his head. He sat there, sweat beading on his face and his own breath threatening to smother him as he listened to their captors moving around next to him.

“He can’t talk,” one of them said disgustedly. “He’s still wasted.”

Stretch. That meant he was right next to him, thank fucking god.

The rough sound of a slap made Jeff tense, protests bitten off when the same voice cursed and there came the sound of someone rubbing their head, “What the fuck, man!”

“That’s exactly how we want him, dumbass! He doesn’t need to talk, all they need is a good look at him. Come on, they’re waiting.”

Footsteps and then the sound of a door closing. Jeff strained to hear if anyone was still in there with them around his own breathing loud in his ears, his pulse thundering. There was nothing, no shuffle of feet against the floor or the creak of a chair. Jeff waited a little longer, curling his chilly toes against the rough carpet.

Nothing. Jeff took a long, slow breathing, trying to calm his racing pulse. He needed to be cool right now so he could try to think of something. Even if the Embassy was willing to give these assholes whatever they wanted, they sure as hell couldn’t count on that saving their lives. He was no strategist, his degree was in sociology, for fuck’s sake, but. Stretch always called him Handy Andy and it made him feel like someone different, someone braver who could stand up to a violent asshole on a bus and help Stretch with crazy experiments involving swinging bottles of Diet Coke rigged with automatic mentos dispensers. Jeff might not be the best for this situation, but Andy was sure as hell gonna try.

“Stretch,” Jeff said softly. He waited for someone to shout or a slap followed by a demand that he shut up. When none came, he went on, soft and urgent, “I know you can't hear me, but, just in case you can. It's gonna be okay. I know you're big on promises and I'm promising you right now we're getting out of this. I promise you." If he could glean anything of what Jeff was saying, he hoped he could hear that much. At least maybe he wouldn't be afraid.

"i sure hope so, i didn't get this far in life to get dusted by a low rent group of third rate scooby doo level villains. seriously, they tied us up with rope, were they out of packing tape at ‘kidnappers ‘r’ us’ or were they just eager to try the knots they learned in boy scouts before they got kicked out."

Okay, that wasn’t quite the last thing he’d expected, but it was close.

"Stretch?" Jeff gasped out. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the bag, but he could hear a muted popping sound. Suddenly, the bag was gone, far gentler than before and then he was blinking up into Stretch’s smirking face.

Jeff looked around a little wildly and next to him was another chair, the still-tied ropes hanging from the rungs in loose coils.

“yeah, sorry. i woke up back in the van, didn’t want to tip them off. wherever they buy their roofies must not have given them a dosage chart.” Stretch settled his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “hold still, this is a lot easier than fighting with knots.”

It was the gentlest and shortest teleport he’d ever felt. Only a brief disorientation and when his vision cleared, he was sitting on top of the ropes that had just been binding him.

Jeff scrambled to his feet, swiping his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. Holy shit, maybe he should take up praying again more regularly, this was the fastest service he’d ever gotten. “Can you get us outside?”

His heart sank as Stretch shook his head. “that's gonna be a no. with the bags on our heads, i couldn't see where we are. shortcutting is tricky, it's dangerous to teleport blind. that's how you end up stuck in walls or halfway inside a table or some shit.” Stretch waved a slender hand at the chairs. “dangerous, not impossible. a few inches above where i was sitting was a pretty safe bet to get out of the ropes, but anything else is more likely to get us dead than on the street.” He frowned, glancing around the room thoughtfully. “plus, i'm not going anywhere without a little intel. they’re fucking idiots, but they knew enough to drug me and how to do it. that's not information you can just look up on a wiki-how.”

“Okay,” Jeff took a deep, steadying breath. "So, what do we do, then?” He glanced at the door. “Can you pick locks?"

"sure,” Stretch said absently. He was looking around the room. It was a storage room of some sort, there was more dusty furniture aside from the chairs, including a rickety desk, and metal cabinets lined the walls. “but i can't do much about the door being barred. i heard something get braced against it when they went out.

"Oh. Right."

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, “at least one of them has a brain cell or two rolling around up top, enough to get them this far. but the road trip is over and it’s time to pay the tolls.” Stretch shook his head disgustedly. "first rule of kidnapping is never leave the kidnappees alone. seriously, i'm getting my cues from netflix and even i know that.”

His eye lights paused in their survey of the room, brightening. Jeff followed his gaze and saw in one corner there was an honest to god old-fashioned rotary telephone pushed into the far corner of the desk, nearly buried under the clutter.

"can't be that easy, can it?” Stretch marveled. He picked it up the handset and held to his skull, then sighed unhappily. “nope. no dial tone, no surprise there, no one has a landline anymore. don’t you worry though, little phone.” Stretch gave it a soft pat. “you’re gonna be real useful in just a minute. seriously, this is just embarrassing. my first kidnapping attempt and they locked us in a room with an entire arsenal.”

“I must be missing the vendor in the corner willing to hand over gear if we do a mission for them,” Jeff joked weakly.

“everything is an arsenal if you’ve got the skills.” Stretch rummaged through the desk and came up triumphantly with…a paperclip? He set it on the desk, adding a pencil, some scotch tape, and what looked to Jeff like an old tube of superglue. “kidnapped by the ebott equivalent of the america’s dumbest criminals, fuck me. edge is going to be up my ass for a month.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” It was easier to be calm in the face of Stretch’s ease. “I think six months is the bare minimum.”

“i really wish you weren’t right.” Stretch glanced around the room again, this time directing his gaze upward. “hm, that’ll work.” Tall as he was, the ceiling was still out of reach even for him. Stretch pulled one of the chairs over, ropes trailing behind it like tentacles, and stood on it, reaching for the smoke detector. Jeff could only blink in confusion as he yanked it right off the ceiling.

"You're going to burn down the building?” Jeff asked. Not that he didn’t trust Stretch, but, uh, that seemed extreme for a first escape attempt. “That’d get us out, but I don't think we'll be any more alive."

"nah, just need some parts,” Stretch jerked his head towards the door. “keep an ear on the hallway, will ya, in case they remember that leaving us alone is probably stupid."

“Got it.” Jeff went to the door but before he could press his ear to it, Stretch called his name.

"hey, kiddo, i'm gonna get us out of this." Stretch offered him a familiar, lopsided smile. "i know i don't look like much, but i've been known to keep my head in a bad situation."

"You already saved me once,” Jeff said honestly, "why wouldn't I believe you now?"

Stretch’s pale eye lights flickered with memory, his expression briefly tightening. How did he remember that horrible night in that parking lot, Jeff wondered, what nightmares haunted Stretch’s sleep? He knew something happened after the ambulance took him away, but he’d never heard the entire story. After he’d been released from the hospital, he’d been wrapped up in healing enough to start his new job at the Embassy and as time passed, he hated to ask, didn’t want to dredge it all up again, not when everyone was slowly getting past it. Besides, the others had their own shit to deal with, what with the attack in California and everything happening in Ebott. His trauma was his to handle and that was the end of it.

At the desk, Stretch got to work, humming the ‘mission impossible’ theme under his breath as he dissected the phone and smoke detector with a makeshift screwdriver made from a bent paperclip taped to a pencil. His hands were as deft and easy as any demonstration he’d done for the local kids and Jeff could only marvel at his ease.

“How can you be so calm?” Jeff blurted, wincing even as the words escaped. He hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t want to distract him. Stretch only flicked a glance his way, both browbones raised.

“me?” Stretch snorted, “i am not calm. beneath this gorgeous cookie crust exterior is a honey pie of a person who would start shitting themselves if i could grow the prerequisite equipment. but we're gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?” Jeff hated the faint pleading in his own voice, he shouldn’t be distracting; Stretch was as stuck here as he was and with his HP, it was even worse. He was supposed to be the one helping Stretch, he’d promised, and the best he could do was lookout.

“you seriously think red isn't already on it?” Stretch asked and as terrifying as Red could be, thinking about him right now eased some of the aching fear that was settled in Jeff’s stomach. “all he needs is a clue and we’re gonna get him one. i only hope he can keep edge from razing the city and salting the earth beneath it until then. people might be a little tetchy about that and i’m not even sure you can come up with a press release that’d cover ‘sorry about starting city-wide armageddon, my bad.’”

Before Jeff could think of a reply to that, either an agreement, or a protest that a little chaos could be excused considering the circumstances, he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. Panicked, he hissed out, “They're coming!”

“fuck, okay, okay.” Stretch scrambled over and set some kind of contraption on the floor near the door that was all waggling wires and circuit boards. He grabbed Jeff by the wrist and dragged him along. “over here, come on, this a harder trick, but you can do it. i need you to hold as still as you can. if you move, they might see you, you get me?"

Jeff managed a hasty nod as Stretch shoved him into a corner, cramming them both in tight, out of the way. "don't move, don't talk,” Stretch reminded him, a low murmur close to his ear. The slim, bony arms around him were comforting and even knowing that Stretch couldn’t physically protect him, having him towering overhead as he caged Jeff against the wall felt oddly safe.

Then something happened. He didn’t know how to describe it. It felt like a heavy curtain fell over the world, everything going distant and muffled, even his vision greying like he was about to faint, only he’d never felt so awake. There was a sudden popping explosion as the door swung open and collided with Stretch’s contraption, but it sounded miles away, the kidnappers’ curses as muffled as if they were speaking from another world.

He didn’t move, held perfectly still even as that curtain slowly grew claustrophobic, nausea starting to churn. Jeff closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively and just went he thought he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, that he either needed to move or he’d start screaming, it was suddenly gone and Stretch was stepping back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Stretch was pale, sweat showing visibly on his skull. "are you okay?" Stretch asked.

“Me?” Jeff blurted. He caught hold of Stretch’s arms to brace him as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m fine, what about you!”

"i’ll be okay.” Stretch wiped his face on the sleeve of the crummy shirt he’d been forced into with a grimace. “i pulled us halfway into the void. it works, but it burns a lot of juice. the assholes booked it out of here, but more importantly, they left the door open."

The door was opened, they could leave, and yet, Jeff found himself blurting out, “They’ll get away!”

“no,” Stretch said grimly. “they’ll look for us first, thinking we couldn’t have gotten too far. these guys aren’t gonna ditch and run that fast, they know too much. think about it. drugs work on monsters but how do they know what kind and how much? lucky for me, skeleton monsters are different. our systems are finicky, we’re hard to drug. whoever tipped them off about how to roofie me didn’t know that.”

His sockets narrowed suddenly, Stretch turning away to look in the rusty cabinet next to them. “oh, honey,” he said gleefully, “jackpot.”

Jeff joined him, peering into the cabinet as Stretch cautiously wrenched it open. “What did you find?”

He held up a bottle of bleach and said, smugly, “just some nice, normal household chemicals. they can be lots of fun if you know how to mix 'em up and i'm a one hell of a bartender. but first.”

On the desk was another little contraption that was mostly wires and tape. Stretch picked it up and walked over to squat next to a wall outlet. Carefully, he pushed it into the socket. There was a sputtering spark and a tiny red light blinked to life.

“there we go.” Stretch stood, dusting off his hands. “i don’t even want to think about how pants-shittingly angry edge probably is right now, but we can’t let them get the ransom that asgore is probably going to pay and we sure as hell can’t let them get away.”

He grinned then, wickedly sharp for all that his teeth were blunt. “so, how’s about we have some fun, yeah?”

Jeff nodded determinedly. Fuck, yes. If he was going to add to his repertoire of nightmares, he was damn well going to make sure someone else paid for it, in spades.

tbc

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (10/ ?)

word count: 6k

AO3

part 1   / part 2 / part 3  / part 4  / part 5 / part 6  / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 11

Slowly, the snow began to thaw as winter melted into spring.

Dandy had only asked him to stay for the cold months. There had never been any talk of Geralt staying any longer than that.

He did it anyway. No one mentioned it and maybe it was just Geralt’s imagination, but when the first flowers bloomed and Geralt was still with the troupe, the smiles they gave him were warmer and when Nadine hugged him one morning, before he went away for a bit for an easy contract, it felt like a hug that welcomed him to the family.

It took a while to convince Dandy that the contracts Geralt took while the others performed, were nowhere near as dangerous as his fight with the skullwarg. It took even longer until Dandy’s worry for him turned into giddy curiosity.

Dandy kept insisting that Geralt had to give him all the details of his hunts, so that he could stop worrying about him. Geralt gladly obliged.

There was a fluttering in Geralt’s chest like a bird’s wings, when Dandy first announced that he was going to write another play, this one about monsters and witchers.

Watching him work was like watching the sky change colours when the sun rose. Breathtaking, no matter how often he got to witness it.

Sometimes, Dandy dictated the lines his mind created to Geralt or one of the other players. Other times, he wrote them down himself, in a scrip that Geralt had never seen before. The rest of the troupe knew how to read it though, for Nadine read over Dandy’s scripts with a critical eye and gave suggestions where she saw fit.

More and more often, Dandy also asked Geralt for his opinion on what he was writing. His mouth formed a surprised “Oh” when Geralt reminded him that he didn’t know how to read what Dandy wrote.

From then on, Geralt spent most of their evenings after the performances or the fight scene rehearsals with Dandy, who taught him patiently how to read the way he did.

“Here,” Dandy said, when he was satisfied with Geralt’s progress on recognising individual letters. Out of a pocket in his coat, he produced a single sheet of paper and handed it to Geralt. “This was the first thing I ever wrote.”

Geralt hesitated, before unfolding the paper carefully. “You always carry this with you?”

Dandy hummed in affirmation. “I almost left it for my parents to keep. They were so proud when I finally learned to write and read. My mother actually cried and my father hugged me so tightly I thought he was going to break my back.”

A soft smile spread across Dandy’s lips and his fingers gently ran over the paper, tracing the word he had written there decades ago.

It did something strange to Geralt’s chest. “Why did you keep it then?”

“As a reminder. Of my parents.”

Geralt’s hands clenched and unclenched, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, placing one hand over Dandy’s. “I know you never mention them, but…if you want to talk about it…”

Dandy’s sudden laughter startled Geralt.

“Oh, no no, they aren’t dead or anything like that.” Dandy turned his hand to guide Geralt’s fingers to the thing he had written there. “Here, read that.”

Geralt did as he was told. “Leon Nowak, Baron of Whitecoast?” Geralt looked up at Dandy to see if he had read it correctly. Dandy beamed and pressed a kiss against Geralt’s cheek. It was a fleeting little peck, nothing more, but Geralt wished it would linger, wished he could just lean down and steal a real kiss from Dandy.

Instead he ran his fingers over the name again.

“Who is that?” Geralt asked.

“Oh.” Dandy waved his hand around, accidentally – or perhaps not so accidentally – swatting Geralt’s chest in the process. “That’s me.”

Geralt’s brows shot up. “You’re a baron? I thought you said you weren’t rich?”

“Well, it’s true. I’m not. My parents are.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched. “They didn’t disinherit you, did they? Because you’re…”

“No. Gods, no they would never do that.” Dandy looked affronted by the very notion. “If I wrote them a letter asking for money, they wouldn’t hesitate to send me a small fortune They even offered the troupe their patronage, should we ever be in need of it.” He let out a small, content sigh. “But I don’t want that. Don’t get me wrong, having money is nice and I love visiting them and not sleeping in a wagon or an inn for once. But I like earning my own coin. Even if it’s not nearly as much as they could give me.”

Geralt gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re good at acting. You seem happy when you’re on stage.”

“I am.” Pride tinged his voice that made Geralt’s heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. “It’s really important to me being able to do that.” He let out a short laugh. “I can’t say my parents weren’t worried when I announced that I wanted to travel, but they have supported me every step along the way until I could support myself.”

Geralt ran his fingers over the bumps and dots that were Dandy’s name once more. “They taught you how to write.”

“Eh, not exactly. They had no idea that this kind of script even existed. But they have wealth and influence and they love me enough to use it to get me the best tutor they could find. A sorceress, if you can believe it.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. “What? Sorceresses don’t just become tutors. They are at court or work for the lodge or –“

“Yeah, believe me, I have no idea why Philippa agreed to teach me.”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat and his blood turning cold. “Philippa Eilhart?”

Dandy drew back in surprise. “You have heard of her?”

“I know her.” I asked her if reincarnation could be possible. I asked her if you could still be alive.

A strange expression flickered over Dandy’s face. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. She talked about you a lot. I always wondered by she kept insisting that should I meet a witcher I should go with him.”

Geralt’s mind was racing, unable to grasp what Dandy was saying.

“She said…that’s why you reacted like that when you found out I was a witcher.” The realisation hit Geralt like a punch, leaving him breathless. “When I told you who I was, you said you needed to think, but you didn’t hesitate to ask me to come back.”

Dandy scooted closer again. “I did. But, Geralt, believe me, I didn’t just ask you to come back because Philippa had told me to. I mean, that was a part of it, sure, but I also wanted to get to know you. And I’m glad I did.”

“I-yeah. I’m glad too.” His thumb caressed Dandy’s knuckles, a soft, soothing motion that was more for Geralt’s benefit than Dandy’s. There was too much to think about, too much he didn’t understand. How long had Philippa known that Geralt’s theory of the reincarnation had been true? And why had she agreed to tutor Dandy without telling anyone who he was?

Knowing that the sorceress had a hand in Dandy’s life, perhaps even orchestrating the way his life would go, left Geralt with a sense of unease. Especially since it was Philippa. The sorceress had never done him any intentional harm, but not once in the long time they have known each other, had she been open about her goals, always playing a different game than anybody else.

“Geralt?” Dandy asked tentatively, when Geralt had been quiet for too long.

Geralt forced himself to snap out of his crushing thoughts and put as much teasing as he could in his voice as he said, “I just have one more question. Why Dandy? Out of all the new names you could have chosen for yourself, why this?”

Dandy let out a bark of laughter, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder. “I know. It’s a terrible name. In my defence, I didn’t exactly come up with it myself. Technically.”

Geralt chuckled. “It’s not a terrible name. I think it suits you.”

Dandy poked a finger in Geralt’s side with a little growl. “Don’t let Mika hear you say that or I’ll never get to hear the end of it.”

Geralt gave a questioning grunt to which Dandy replied with an overly dramatic sigh.

“You see, when I joined the troupe, I wanted to give myself a stage name.”

“Naturally.”

“Exactly! Good to know we’re on the same page.” Dandy stopped poking Geralt, instead sprawling his fingers across Geralt’s side. “I wanted to call myself Dandelion. You know, sort of as a little wink to my given name. Dande-Leon, as it were.”

Geralt didn’t even try to supress the snort. “That’s a terrible pun.”

“Ah the others agree with you there. No one appreciates my remarkable wit and humour.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “They kept teasing me about being all posh and a dandy when I first joined and somehow that name stuck. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how indignant I was when they started calling me Dandy, but…it was also nice. I’ve never really had friends that would tease me before. Maybe it was because no one wanted to piss off a baron or maybe they thought they needed to be extra careful with me because I’m blind. But the way the troupe talks to me and teases me…it makes me feel like I really, truly belonge.” He nuzzled closer into Geralt and Geralt wasn’t sure if he imagined the stifled sniffle. “And to be fair, Dandelion probably wouldn’t have been the best name.”

“I think it would be a fitting name,” Geralt said softly, stroking Dandy’s hair soothingly. “It’s always the yellow flowers with you, isn’t it?”

The words escaped him without thinking. Dandy’s brows furrowed in confusion, but then he snorted.

“I wouldn’t know about that, now, would I?” He tightened his hold on Geralt.

Geralt hummed in contemplation. “It still fits. My friend always used to wish on Dandelions. Just small things that would come true anyway. ‘I wish for the next performance to go well.’ Or ‘I wish that Roach will start recognising me as a friend and stop trying to bite my fingers.’”

Dandy’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Those sound like great wishes. Did they come true?”

“Hmm. He always said they did. But I am pretty sure he just snuck Roach treats behind my back until she started liking him.”

“Sounds like a wise man. If Roach didn’t already love me, I might have tried the same thing. But why would Dandelion be fitting for me then?”

“Because being here with you is everything I could have wished for.”

“You did it!” Dandy beamed with pride. “You read your first play!”

Geralt grunted, but Dandy’s joy was contagious. “With a lot of corrections and help from you. And it was a short play.”

“So?” Dandy nudged Geralt with his shoulder. “You still did it. I can’t believe you really learned to read like that for me.”

“It’s important to you.”

“It is,” Dandy agreed softly, before a sly grin spread over his face. “Now that you’re able to read my scripts, you will be able to learn the lines for your first role.” Mirth brightening his voice and he twirled his cane in excitement.

Geralt made a noise not unlike a startled horse. “My role? I don’t think so.”

“Ah, but my dearest Geralt,” Dandy drawled his name and leaned forward with a shit eating grin. “You promised me you’d play with me if I joined your lessons.” That cheeky bastard.

“I meant the lute.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I don’t have a lute.” He nudged Geralt playfully. “Now come on. I’d love to see you act.”

Geralt put up some more token resistance, but he still joined one mock-rehearsal the players put on, all of them cheering for Geralt to join them and read the lines of the witcher-character.

He felt ridiculous, trying to mimic the actors’ dramatic gestures and way of speaking. It hadn’t taken long until everyone agreed to never have Geralt act on an actual stage, but between his laughter, Dandy assured Geralt, that that was the funniest performance Dandy had ever had the pleasure to listen to.

From then on, the only times that Geralt read lines and tried his hand at acting, was when he helped Dandy practice his own lines by reading the other parts.

Geralt closed his eyes and hummed softly, as Dandy played with his hair.

It was a peaceful moment. Had anyone told Geralt a couple of months ago that he would get to have such moments again, he would have laughed in their face.

And yet, here he was, with Dandy, the man he fell in love with more with each day they spent together. Every morning when he woke up holding Dandy close, his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Every time, Dandy laughed at Geralt reading his lines, Geralt wanted to taste that laugh with a kiss. Every time Geralt practiced reading the script Dandy had taught him and Dandy squeezed his shoulder with pride, the words ‘I love you’ burned on Geralt’s lips, begging to be spoken. He thought maybe, Dandy already knew.

It was moments like these, that Geralt was sure that he knew Dandy felt the same way, telling him with each touch he gifted Geralt and each word spoken softly between them.

It felt simultaneously strange, so familiar and right, lying with his head in Dandy’s lap, as if he belonged there.

The soft tug on his hair was soothing and nearly enough to lull him to sleep, but Geralt fought his heavy eyelids, unwilling to let this moment be taken away from him by sleep.

Softly, Dandy hummed the melody of the lullaby Geralt had taught him. It was a little off, since Geralt himself hadn’t been able to sing it right, but the melody was just as tender and tearing at his heart as it always had been.

Eventually, the song faded.

“What’s on your mind?” Dandy asked quietly, his fingers never stopping.

Geralt hummed quietly. “Who says that something’s on my mind?”

“There always is.” Dandy’s voice was full of fondness.

“Thinking about you.”

“A very good thing to think about,” Dandy teased and he tugged lightly on Geralt’s hair for emphasis.

Geralt didn’t know if it was the comforting feeling of Dandy touching him or the tone of his voice that loosened Geralt’s tongue and make him ask the question that had been burning at the back of his mind for months.

“Where did you get the inspiration for that play? The one about the pirate?”

Dandy’s hands stilled.

Months ago, Geralt would have begged him silently, please, remember me. Please remember that you loved me.

Now though, that voice inside his head was quiet. Geralt awaited Dandy’s answer with mere curiosity and not that desperation from before. Dandy didn’t need to remember his former feelings for him. It was enough that he was trusting Geralt and holding him dear enough to lie with him as they did now. Even if it turned out that it wasn’t what it had been before, it wouldn’t be any less perfect for it.

“I don’t know,” Dandy said finally. “It just came to me. Sometimes you just start writing and have no control over what comes out and it just felt right, writing that.”

Strangely, Geralt’s heart didn’t sink at that admission. Instead, he gave an acknowledging hum.

“Inspiration is a strange thing,” Geralt repeated what he had said once before, decades ago, when Jaskier had tried to explain to him why exactly it was so inspiring about watching Geralt fight.

Dandy let out a quiet laugh and resumed his ministrations.

“It sure is. And lately, I’ve found that I am chockfull of inspiration.”

Celebrating Belleteyn with the troupe was even more opulent than the festivities Jaskier had always dragged him too. And yet, it was nothing compared to the celebration that came about a week later.

The players pulled all the stops to make Dandy’s birthday truly unforgettable. With food, music and wine to spare, it would have been hard to believe that they were not-so-humble actors instead of nobles, if it weren’t for their total disregard of manners as they celebrated.

Dandy was blossoming in the attention like a flower in the sun. He was filled with so much palpable happiness that Geralt didn’t have the heart to refuse when Dandy grabbed his hand and asked him for a dance. It wasn’t one of those complicated danced with far too many steps to remember, that Jaskier had loved so much. It was but two people swaying in place, holding each other close. Geralt wasn’t sure if Dandy had chosen this dance because learning the steps to any of the elaborate dances was exhausting work for him, or because he liked holding Geralt close just as much as Geralt loved being near him.

That feeling in his chest was warm and fuzzy while they swayed and when Dandy rested his head against Geralt’s chest, he was sure he must hear his heart fluttering. Dandy’s hands on Geralt’s shoulders wandered a bit, playing with his hair and Geralt’s hands on his waist twitched in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

They slowed until they were barely moving anymore. Geralt couldn’t tell which one of them brought the dance to a halt first. All he could focus on was Dandy’s closeness.

Ever so slowly, Dandy lifted his head off Geralt’s chest, one of the hands leaving their place on Geralt’s shoulders and wandering up to cup Geralt’s cheeks.

Geralt leaned into the touch, like a drowning man leaning onto a piece of wood to keep him afloat. In this moment, he knew Dandy’s touch was the only thing keeping him from drifting away, from drowning in the miserable life he had led before Dandy.

“Geralt,” On Dandy’s lips, his name sounded almost like a plea, like a whisper of awe. “Thank you. For being here with me.”

“No place I’d rather be.” He had never meant anything more in his life. A soft smile spread across his lips. “My Dandelion.”

A small gasp escaped Dandy. His hand slowly trailed down until his thumb brushed against the corner of Geralt’s lips.

It wasn’t enough. Geralt wanted more, more, everything. He wanted Dandy. He wanted him to know that he was everything to Geralt.

Had their faces always been that close or had one of them moved closer?

Geralt’s heart sped up when Dandy tilted his head up a little. He was so close. All Geralt had to do was lean forward and capture Dandy’s lips in his.

“Geralt.” This time there was no mistaking that it was a plea.

They were so close that their breaths mingled. Geralt leaned forward and –

He froze, just before their lips could touch. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not like this, with Dandy trusting him so openly to not even have his cane with him, just Geralt to guide him. But he couldn’t trust Geralt. Not when he lied and kept secrets and pretended that they were nothing more than two men who had found each other out of pure chance when there was something so much bigger and more terrible going on.

He pulled back and pretended that his heart didn’t shatter when Dandy’s face fell.

“I think we should join the others again,” Geralt said, his voice rough. “I’m sure Kara is sick of playing that slow song by now.”

“Oh,” Dandy said, his lips pressed into a thin smile that couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Yeah. You’re right. Still got a birthday to celebrate.”

Geralt led Dandy the few steps back from the makeshift dancefloor to the other players.

It shouldn’t have hurt when Dandy let go of Geralt and grabbed his cane again. The ache in Geralt’s chest dulled to a numb throb as Mika whisked Dandy away and brought back the smile that Geralt had stolen from Dandy.

Seeing Dandy happy again – singing and joking with his friends, letting them show him how much he meant to them – was beautiful, but Geralt couldn’t keep dark thoughts from creeping up at him.

He did his best not to let them show, to put cheer into his voice or not speak at all when it became too much, but Dandy noticed anyway. Of course he did.

Dandy didn’t mention it in front of the others, but he did take Geralt’s hand in his, holding it tightly and running his thumb over Geralt’s knuckles in a comforting gesture that soothed Geralt’s whirling thoughts, even though it wasn’t enough to fully keep them at bay.

“Do you want to get away for a while?” Dandy whispered, while Mika and Kara challenged each other to a drinking contest under the shouts and hollers of the others. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just don’t want you to feel bad.”

Geralt’s throat grew tight. “I don’t want to ruin this for you. This celebration is yours, you should enjoy it.”

“I’d enjoy it much more if I knew you were comfortable too.” Dandy squeezed his hand. “It’s fine if this is all a bit too much for you. I don’t mind going somewhere quieter. You know I love being alone with you just as much as I do being the centre of attention.”

“It’s not- it’s not that. It being too loud and too much. I-“ His voice broke off. He couldn’t say it. Not here, not while his friends were cheerful and happy.

Dandy let him take his time but Geralt could read the burning question on Dandy’s face. If it’s not too loud and too much, am I the reason why you’re miserable?

When Geralt didn’t continue, he tugged lightly at his hand. Geralt followed without any resistance, as he always would.

They didn’t walk far, simply putting some distance between the celebrating actors and themselves. They were still close enough to hear the cheering and singing, but it became background noise, same as the wind in the trees or the birds flying up above.

They sat down in the grass, Dandy laying his cane across his lap and pulling Geralt close, until his head leaned against Dandy’s shoulder.

A tremble went through Geralt’s body, as Dandy put an arm around his waist and held him tightly. So often, it was Geralt holding Dandy protectively, whether it was in his sleep or when sitting next to each other while talking. So rarely did Geralt get to feel like he was the protected one, like he didn’t need to carry the weight of the world on his own shoulder. But here Dandy was, offering to share the weight or at least have Geralt tell him just how heavy it was.

And so he did. The words came haltingly, as if a rope around his neck grew tighter with every attempt to speak. Dandy waited patiently for him to gather the courage to share his burden.

When he finally did, it felt both like he could breathe again freely for the first time that day, and as if the words were cutting into his own flesh.

“Today is the anniversary of a…friend’s death.”

Dandy stilled, his only movement came from his free hand plucking out grass nervously.

“Jaskier?” He asked, hesitating.

Geralt blanched. “How do you know that name?”

Dandy’s hand on his waist twitched. “It’s the name you said when you were hurt.” His voice was tight, but soft. “I don’t know if you recognised anything around you, but that’s the name you called out then.” He hesitated. “You say his name in your sleep too sometimes. Did you know that?”

Geralt’s mouth went dry. “I…what?”

A strange smile appeared on Dandy’s lips, too small to be a real one. “Just before you fall asleep. And sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, because you pulled me closer. You always ask me not to leave. And you always call me Jaskier.” The smile was still on his face, but now the stinging scent of salt pierced the air. “He must have been really important to you.”

“He was,” Geralt said quietly. “So are you.”

“But not like him.” Dandy let out a strained laugh that held no humour. “I don’t… I shouldn’t say that. Especially not today. I’m sorry. I should be comforting you. I didn’t mean to…to make it about me.”

“It’s always been about you.” Geralt only realised how his carelessly spoken words must have sounded, when Dandy winced and his hand retreated. Geralt’s hand shot out to stop him from pulling away. “Not like that. It…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Geralt’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not Jaskier who died that day. Not exactly.”

Different expressions flickered over Dandy’s face, as if he couldn’t decide which reaction to settle on. Finally, the uncertainty and confusion won out.

“What do you mean?”

An iron fist enclosed Geralt’s heart, squeezed until he thought he would burst. He couldn’t tell Dandy. He couldn’t put that knowledge, that burden, that pressure on him.

But with every second that Geralt hesitated, something crumbled in Dandy’s expression more and more. Geralt couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on in Dandy’s head, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything good.

Jaskier had sometimes cried in Geralt’s arms, thinking he wasn’t good enough, he was too loud, too much, too annoying for anyone to like him enough to stay with him for more than a night.

Yarrow had sounded so broken when he had asked Geralt to be his friend and then he had died alone.

Dandy was his own person, with his own struggles. And with his own doubts and the doubts of all the lives before pressing down on him. Geralt ruining his birthday, the day that should be a celebration of Dandy and nothing else, must have only made things worse.

The only thing Geralt could do to try and make this right, was tell him the truth and hope he didn’t destroy Dandy’s life with it.

He took a shaky breath.

“There was someone else. His name was Yarrow. He was…” Jaskier. You. “someone I met on Belleteyn.”

“Oh.” Dandy’s brows drew together. “You met during the feast of lovers. Is that what he was to you then?”

“No. I think he could have been. Or maybe we could have just been friends. Anything would have been better than what really happened.” When Geralt broke off, trying to find the right words, Dandy remained quiet, giving him all the time he needed. Time. The one thing Geralt hadn’t had with Yarrow. “We met in prison. I- We were both alone. He asked me to be his friend. I gave him some light and – I said we weren’t friends.”

Dandy’s breath hitched.

“Geralt,” he said slowly, a palpable tension in his voice. His body was rigid, not daring to move a single muscle. “You asked me about my first play. Geralt, why did you ask me about that play?”

Geralt closed his eyes, focussing all of his attention on Dandy’s hand in his, praying it wouldn’t be the last time that he would get to hold it, knowing that there was little chance Dandy wouldn’t tear it away when he knew what Geralt had hidden from him all this time.

“Because Yarrow and I were friends. In a different life.” His smile turned bitter as he quoted the final line of the play. “Long before I ever met Yarrow – lifetimes before – I was friends with Jaskier.”

“Friends?”

Geralt winced. “First and foremost friends. But also so much more.” His voice broke and he was sure Dandy could feel the tremor of his hand. “And when he died… I couldn’t let go of him. Somehow he came back to me, only the gods know why. He wasn’t the same, but he was. Yarrow wasn’t a bard. He was an artist. But he was Jaskier.”

When he opened his eyes again and glanced at Dandy, afraid what he would find, he saw Dandy’s lips tremble. “Geralt. Why did you call out Jaskier’s name when you were hurt? It was… it wasn’t just you being delirious, was it.”

“No.” Geralt’s throat grew tight, the noose around his neck becoming tighter with every word and yet, he kept going. “When I woke up, I thought I saw him. It was you, of course, but…”

“But it was also him.” Dandy’s voice was completely void of emotion. “Geralt, you don’t think that I’m Jaskier, do you?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered.

This was it. This was when Dandy would pull away his hand as if burned and tell Geralt to leave.

Instead, Dandy’s hand tightened its hold on Geralt, clutching him almost hard enough to hurt.

“What are you sorry for?” Dandy asked carefully.

Geralt looked away, unable to watch Dandy’s face twist in anger.

“I’m sorry because I couldn’t save them. Jaskier, Yarrow, all the other ones. They…they all died. I could have prevented it, I could have done something, but I didn’t even know who they were and then I saw you and –  I couldn’t let you die. Not again.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated. The hand not held in Geralt grasped his cane so tightly that Geralt could see the white of his knuckles.

“Geralt, please answer this honestly. Why did you agree to stay with me?” He blinked furiously, but the salt smell only got stronger. “Is it just because I look like him? Because a play I wrote was similar to something that happened to you? Because while you’re with me you can imagine that I’m someone else, someone more important to you?”

“Dandy.” The name tasted like a storm on his tongue, waiting to get unleashed. “You are important to me.”

“Then why? If you think I’m Jaskier and you loved him – if I am important to you, why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Because I love you.”

There was no storm. Only the frightening calm, the fear of what was to come, the terror of having already destroyed all there was.

Geralt’s breath came ragged, while Dandy stilled completely.

“I love you,” Geralt repeated, his voice breaking on the last word. “Which is why I can’t kiss you and lie to you.”

“Because... you only love me because I am him?” Dandy looked so small, so helpless.

Geralt closed his eyes, letting his face fall. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of. That you would think that.”

“It’s not the truth then? You didn’t love Jaskier?”

“I did,” Geralt said sincerely. “I always will. I would have loved him in any lifetime. But I also love you. For being you.”

Geralt shifted so that he was no longer sitting next to Dandy, but facing him.

“I love watching you go on stage and silence an audience with your performance. I love listening to you sing with your friends, as if music was more beautiful to you when shared. I love that you still hum that lullaby for me all on your own, even if you still get the melody wrong.” His voice became thick with emotion, but he couldn’t let himself stop. Not before Dandy knew it all. If he still decided to leave then, at least he would know what Geralt saw when he looked at him. “I love that you fiddle with your cane when you’re nervous or content. I love that you wear ridiculous hats and curl your hair. Jaskier did none of those things. And I love them still, because they are a part of who you are, my Dandelion.”

He prayed Dandy would still be his after this. His friend, if nothing else. Because no matter what, Geralt would always be Dandy’s.

Hesitantly, his free hand came up to Dandy’s face, hovering just above it, close enough that Dandy would be able to feel its heat. For a terrifying moment, Geralt thought Dandy would jerk away, but then he leaned into the touch, turning his head just enough to press a kiss against Geralt’s palm.

“Dandelion…” The name was naught but a breath on Geralt’s lips. A breath like the one a drowning man sucked in when he realised that he was saved.

“Are you sure?” Dandy asked softly.

“That I love you? I have never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“That I’m Jaskier. I- please, Geralt, I need to know that you are absolutely certain.”

“I am. I’m sorry.” Even while he said it, he could see Dandy think of every interaction they ever had, viewing it all in a new light. Dandy’s lips parted and Geralt could practically see the pieces of Dandy’s life slot into place, creating the same picture Geralt had seen since he had met him.

Philippa telling Jaskier to go with Geralt, should he ever meet him. The inexplicable burst of inspiration that had driven him to write his first play. The nearly immediate trust he had put in Geralt. The rhythm he sometimes tapped out and that Geralt just so happened to recognise.

Perhaps there were more puzzle pieces that Geralt had never seen. Strange memories that Dandy had never shared with him but that made more sense now than they ever had.

Whatever details of his life Dandy was thinking about, Geralt could see the moment the uncertainty changed into total conviction. For some reason Geralt couldn’t dare explain, Dandy didn’t draw back, didn’t yell at him, didn’t push him away. Instead, something soft and warm spread across his face; the sun breaking through the stormclouds.

“And you love me.”

“With all my heart.”

“And when I die, I will come back to you again?”

Geralt’s insides went cold. “Dandy, don’t- I’m not going to let you die.“

Dandy’s quiet laugh interrupted him. “That’s sweet, but I’m afraid it’s inevitable. Just, tell me. Will I come back?”

A muscle twitched in Geralt’s jaw. “I think so. I’m sorry, I don’t know why or how, but somehow we are bound to each other. You always come back and sooner or later I find you.”

“That’s good. I would hate for the man I love to be alone again.”

“Dandy –“

He never got to finish what he was going to say, for Dandy let go of the cane, finding the back of Geralt’s neck again and bringing him closer to him.

Their first kiss was little more than a tentative brush of lips against each other, Dandy searching him and Geralt not quite believing what was happening, not yet understanding that he could have this.

Dandy pulled back again, just enough to be able to speak. “Geralt? Just to make this clear, I love you too. I love that you saw me at my most vulnerable but you still don’t think that I need help in everything I do. I love that you are a terrible storyteller and an even worse actor. I love that you tell me of your contracts and help me with rehearsals even so. I love the way your scars feel beneath my fingers and I love the way you don’t let me go in the mornings, even when you wake up first.” He drew in a breath and pressed their foreheads together. “I love that you can love me for me.”

Geralt let out a wet laugh, unable to blink back the burning in his eyes or fight down the tightness in his chest.

“You just had to make a better declaration of love than I did,” he said, too full of emotion to even attempt a teasing tone.

“Of course.” Dandy darted forward, stealing another kiss that felt more like a gift. “You know I can’t let a chance to be dramatic pass by.”

Geralt hummed, his hands tracing Dandy’s face, his thumb caressing his bottom lip.

“And that’s another thing I love about you.”

“Careful,” Dandy said teasingly, pressing a kiss against Geralt’s thumb. “If you keep making such dramatic declarations yourself, I might consider putting you on stage again in the role of a lover.”

“The point of theatre is that it isn’t real,” Geralt repeated Dandy’s favourite opinion. “This is real.”

Dandy surged forward, pressing a sweet kiss against Geralt’s lips.

“It’s better than any play I could ever write.”

[saturnwritings]

freeze your brain

—after a disheartening start to the evening leads you to hide under a table at a party, a chance encounter with kenma leads you to have one of the best nights of your life. | based on a pov by a cosplayer on tiktok (@/sea.kaninchen)

pairing(s): kenma x reader, past/brief daishou x reader 

word count: 3993

warnings: cheating, hints to sexual themes (only briefly)

a/n: i think i should mention that I DONT HATE DAISHOU!!! i think hes a complex and interesting character and ppl shit on him a lot but i did need a villain for this so im sorry for being basic he doesnt deserve this 😪also i was honestly really excited to do this?? like tiktok cosplayers’ povs are not bad i love cosplayers its just straight tiktok’s povs im sorry 😔 

9:32pm.

You let out a sigh as you glance at your phone for what seemed like the thousandth time that night, the numbers moving slow, in almost a mocking way. The blinding, multi-colored lights dancing around the room kind of made your eyes spin, and the air around you made you wonder if it was possible to describe air as ‘sticky’ and what… questionable ways it could get to that state. There were bodies moving all around the room, most likely all around the house, doing a multitude of things: dancing, talking, loitering.

You had been coerced by your friends, as well as your boyfriend, Daishou, to come to this party, with promises of letting loose and free food. As reluctant as you were, your boyfriend had assured you that he would personally make sure you had a good time; said boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

As you leaned against the wall, you raised your phone screen to your face as you mindlessly scrolled through various social media feeds and such, trying to pass the time. Ultimately, there’s only so much you can do constantly refreshing pages. On top of that, it might have just been your imagination but people seemed to stop and sneak looks at you, probably wondering why you were staying by yourself in a corner for so long.

Putting your phone away, you decided to approach some of Daishou’s friends - after all, the least he could do was to hang out with you at the party he kind of forced you to go to. Taking a quick look around the room, your eyes landed on a group of boys hanging out on the couches, you recognized them as your boyfriend’s friends. You greeted them as best as you could over the loud music, almost pounding your eardrums.

“I was just wondering, have you seen Daishou anywhere?” As soon as you mentioned his name, that atmosphere within the group grew tense. They all seemed to avoid eye-contact and some even started fidgeting. Suddenly, one of the boys spoke up.

“I- uhm, I think I saw him go upstairs?” He was met with pointed looks from the rest. Confused, you thanked them nonetheless and located the stairs.

Maneuvering your way through the many bodies on the stairs, you start searching through the many rooms of the house as you think to yourself: Who’s house is this? Why are there so many rooms? You must’ve looked through the first 4 rooms of the hallway (bathroom, storage closet, bedroom, bedroom) before reaching another door.

When you opened the door, thankful it wasn’t locked, you immediately saw two figures in a bed in the middle of the room. Upon closer inspection, you saw that they were very much not having a nap together but instead moving in tandem. You were about to exit before they could see you when one of the figures, a girl, locked eyes with you. She immediately fumbled and pushed the other figure, a boy, off of her and drew the sheets to cover herself. Feeling awkward and frozen in place, you started to spew out apologies. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I, uhm,” you hands out in a defensive motion “I didn’t mean to walk in! I was just…” You trailed off when the boy turned around and you got a good look of his face. It was then when you had realized it was your boyfriend in a bed with his ex-girlfriend, Mika. 

“Suguru…” Your face morphed into a disheartened expression, “You’re…” you couldn’t finish your sentence though, your eyes frantically shifting between Daishou and Mika, who you had just realized the identity of, in confusion as you opened your mouth to say something, but the words lay stuck in your throat. Fat tears welled up in your eyes, eventually falling down your cheeks, but you had yet to move. 

“y/n! It’s not what you think!” Your boyfriend started as he moved off of the bed and towards you, fumbling for an explanation, but his lack of clothes told you everything. No matter what excuse he came up with, the intentions were clear. 

You choked up and you pushed him away. “Save it! We’re through!” Your voice wavered as you turned and ran out the door, covering your mouth with your hands in an attempt to stifle your crying. Unfortunately, you moved to hide in the bathroom to gather your thoughts, gripping the door handle and pushing when you realized it was locked. 

You looked around for something, you weren’t really quite sure what, but you knew you needed to be away from your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, you reminded yourself) no matter what. In the heat of the moment, you stumbled your way downstairs and into the dining room. It was completely empty, which came as a surprise, but you realized it was probably because the living room was big enough for everyone to do what they wanted and the food was spread out in the kitchen and living room. 

You managed to take a second to catch a break. You were about to take your phone out to call an Uber when you heard Daishou calling your name. In a moment of panic, your eyes landed on the dining table in the middle of the room. Swiftly, and with less gravitas than you’d like to admit, you crawled under the table, thanking the lords above that it was covered in a table cloth that reached the floor. An interesting style choice? Sure, but you were thankful nonetheless.

Holding your breath, you heard your name being called before you heard footsteps leave the room. So there you were, crying under a table at a party. You could still hear the loud techno and pop music from the other room, albeit muffled, and let it drown out your sorrows. 

You thought of calling an Uber now, but you figured it would be smart to take the time to let your thoughts regroup so you at least stopped crying hysterically. 

***

“Please, Kenma?!” Kuroo pouted as he clasped his hands together, “C’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad, it’ll be really fun!” Kenma sighed. He looked down at his paused game of MonHun and took note of the time.

3:51pm.

It was nearing 4pm and Kenma still had yet to clear this level. “I already told you, I don’t wanna go,” Kenma started, “I don’t like parties.” That had Kuroo bouncing and flailing around.

“But Terushima always throws the best parties, they’re fun for everyone!” Kenma grunted in response, he had started playing his game again, Kuroo narrowed his eyes and pouted even harder. “Pleeease?! Everyone’s gonna be there, it’s gonna be great! But it won’t be fun without you,” Kuroo pleaded. Kenma scoffed at that, he considered agreeing just so shut Kuroo up, but he wanted to know what he was getting into first.

“Who’s gonna be there?” Kenma asked, not looking up from his PSP.

“Everyone!” Kenma thought it was almost comical how Kuroo immediately perked up. Kenma shot him an incredulous look. “Uhm, okay, so I know Bo’s gonna be there, which means Akaashi’s gonna be there… You can hang out with him!” Kenma hummed, only partially listening, “No, you’re right, you’re right! What was I thinking? Obviously Akaashi’s gonna hang out with Bokuto, which means I’m gonna have to third wheel!” He tuned Kuroo out as he went on.

Just as Kenma had lost another round, Kuroo seemed to have finished his rant about being a third-wheel and the dynamics between Bokuto and Akaashi.

“Um, well, I mean pretty much all of the Volleyball teams are gonna be there, Terushima really wants this to be epic! Uhm, other than that… Oh! Isn’t there that girl? I forgot her name but she’s dating… Daishou…” Kuroo shudders, Kenma hummed in response. “She’s in your class isn’t she? What’s her name, you can hang out with her!” 

“y/n.” Kenma offered, still not looking up from his game. 

“Yeah, that’s it! Ugh, she’s kinda strange… like, Daishou? Really? Last time I saw him, he was wearing that ugly sweater…” Kenma tuned him out once again. 

While Kenma continued his game, he subconsciously pondered on your relationship. You guys had never really been close, save for the occasional group and partner projects you guys did together, as was expected, you were in the same class after all. If Kenma was being honest, the only time he paid you any mind was when Kuroo brought up how Daishou was most definitely blackmailing you into dating him or something or the sort.

Fed up with Kuroo’s whining, Kenma spoke up after another round lost. “Kuro, I’ll go to the party,” Kuroo’s eyes widened as he gasped, sporting a surprised smile, Kenma continued, “But if I get bored or stressed, I’m leaving.” 

Kuroo nodded.

***

Needless to say, Kenma wasn’t having a good time. While he did enjoy seeing his friend, Hinata, again, the loud and, quite frankly, annoying music was starting to hurt his ears and the food provided was decent at best, meaning fast food pizza and about a million different bags of chips.

“Kenma! C’mon, get over here! We’re playing beer pong, I need a partner!” Kenma sighed as he heard Kuroo call out to him. From where he was leaning against a wall, he could see Kuroo, Bokuto and Miya Atsumu setting up red solo cups on a table. 

This had been happening all night, Kenma minding his own business, occasionally engaging in conversation with Hinata or Akaashi if they crossed paths, with Kuroo swooping in to try to get him to play some sort of party game with him. The first was Just Dance, which Kenma avoided by saying he was hungry, next came truth or dare, Kenma used the bathroom excuse on that one, and so on and so forth. The cycle continued, Kuroo hunting down Kenma and Kenma finding any way he could escape. 

That led Kenma to this moment: leaning against a wall in the kitchen playing on his PSP, with Kuroo struggling to maneuver around everyone to get to him. Kenma checks the digital clock on his PSP. 

9:46pm.

That seemed like a good time to leave, Kenma thought. As he was pocketing his PSP to get ready to make a dash for it, Kenma panicked for a moment, realizing that to get to the front door, he would have to pass by Kuroo and the beer pong table. Contemplating for a moment, he concluded that he would much rather wait it out and leave a bit later than have to explain why he was leaving. 

When Kenma came to his senses, he realized Kuroo was even closer to him than he thought. Scanning for options, he ran the only direction he could, through the arch connecting the kitchen with the dining room. 

In a moment of desperation, he ducked under the table cloth.

***

You checked yourself again in your phone camera. Thankfully, you had calmed down and stopped crying hysterically, and were only left with the occasional sniffle. Unfortunately, the redness was still very much present, as were the tears when you thought too hard about Daishou. Despite all the nasty things other people, especially in your school, would say about him, he was a kind person, passionate about many things and was very caring towards you: always cheering you up and lending an ear when you needed to vent. 

I guess he just… really liked Mika, then, huh, you thought to yourself as you hugged your knees close to your chest.

Deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the frantic footsteps making their way towards you. You only realized something was off when the table cloth rustled and was lifted open, only for someone to slip in and under the table with you.

The boy seemed to be catching his breath when you made a startled noise of surprise. Hearing it, the boy snapped his head up to meet your stare. You were both just staring at each other with wide eyes, after a moment you both started fumbling out uhms and i’s, glancing around to avoid eye contact. 

After accidentally looking up at each other at the same time, you realized who the boy was.

“Wait… Kenma?” He blinked.

“y/n?” He responded with a tilt of his head, “Uhm, I’m sorry, I was just… trying to get away from someone…” You shifted in your spot, casting your eyes away in embarrassment hoping he wouldn’t see your red face and stray tears. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Your eyes widened in confusion.

“Why are you, uh,” he paused awkwardly and gestured around vaguely, “What’re you doing under a table?” You didn’t really know how to respond to that.

“Uhm… well,” you felt tears welling up in your eyes again, “I-” a sob wracked through your body. Completely overwhelmed with emotions, you burst into tears. Kenma’s eyes shifted frantically before he regained his composure, he had never really been good and expressing emotions or helping others with theirs.

Kenma thought to himself: What would Kuro do in this situation? Sure, Kenma had gotten upset lots of times, and Kuroo always knew how to help. He realized that one thing that Kuroo did was ask him if he wanted to talk about what was going on - of course, Kenma never did, but for some strange, unknown reason, it made him feel just the tiniest bit better. In the back of his mind, Kenma thought that it made him feel better because it told him there was someone who cared about him.

“Do you, uh, wanna talk about it? Maybe?” He winced at his awkward delivery, his hands fidgeting.

“Is that,” you sniffled, “is that okay?” Kenma tried his best to give a reassuring smile, he was sure it came off as strained.

“Yeah, sure.”

You told Kenma about your relationship with Daishou; how it started, all the ups and downs, and finally how it ended. How you kept having chance encounters: at school when you were out shopping and even late one night at a public library - that was the night he asked you out for the first time, and you couldn’t have been more smitten. 

During your relationship, he was so kind and considerate to you, and he never failed to make you laugh. You told Kenma how he even said that despite going to different schools, there was no one else he'd rather be that: that apparently didn’t stop him from hooking up with another girl.

After you went silent, Kenma found that you were finished. Despite only thinking of you as ‘that other girl in his class that was dating a volleyball player Kuroo hated’ until recently, seeing you cry and pour your heart out gave him a strange, internal attachment to you.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Kenma asked suddenly, turning to you and planting a hand on the floor, learning towards you ever so slightly. You blinked.

“What?” Surprised by his own outburst, Kenma decided to roll with it.

“There’s an arcade a few blocks down… sometimes when I get upset, I go there and it always cheers me up?” To be perfectly honest, Kenma wasn’t really expecting you to say yes. He expected you to brush him off, say you were feeling better and ready to go home. 

Kenma himself didn’t know why he asked, he usually didn’t really like spended excess time with people he didn’t know that well, but subconsciously, there was a part of him that wanted to help.

“Oh, uhm, yeah! Sure, why not?” You metally cursed yourself for your stuttering, it was bad enough you were info-dumping and completely oversharing, you didn’t want Kenma to think you were that weak. You sniffled again, realization dawning on you.

“We gotta find a way out of here first, thought.” You said. Kenma cringed. 

***

Long story short, you and Kenma managed to escape the table without anyone seeing you. You were extremely thankful, as it would have been very awkward if someone saw the two of you crawling out from under a table. 

Getting outside was another thing, thought. Kuroo and the beer pong table were still very much blocking the way out, and there was always the risk of bumping into Daishou again. After a bit of asking around, you found out that there was a backdoor in the kitchen, so you and Kenma were able to make your escape. 

Now you were playing away to your hearts’ content to some random racing game at an arcade. You both were playing side-by-side, versing each other. To no one’s surprise, Kenma was beating you. Deep down, though, Kenma was a little impressed you were able to keep up with him so well, being a religious player of Mario Kart himself and all. 

You both fleeted from game to game, playing almost every game available from shooting games to claw machines to even a Space Invaders-esque game. You had managed to earn a good amount of tickets, all thanks to Kenma’s membership card and the loose tokens he found in his wallet.

Eventually, you had played until the arcade was empty and one of the employees came up to you to tell you they were closed. They did mention that you could still buy some prizes if you wanted to, to which Kenma turned to you.

“Do you want to?” 

Over the time you had spent playing games together, you had gotten to know Kenma better than just ‘the quiet boy in your class’ in between passing conversations and empty, teasing threats, some of your favorites had been: I will steal your kneecaps and If you play with that character you don’t deserve rights.

“Yeah, sure!” You replied, a genuine smile crossed your face. 

In the end, you had gotten a keychain with a mini funko character on it and Kenma settled on a cute sticker that, with much encouragement from you, he stuck on the case of his PSP.

After exiting the arcade, Kenma took a moment to glance over at you. The empty street illuminated by semi-faulty lampposts, and he found it showed your face more clearly than all the neon lights of the arcade. Your tears dried up, although there were still hints of red in splotches on your face. 

As he watched you talk excitedly about your new keychain, he couldn’t help but feel a strange way, an unfamiliar feeling he had never felt before. It was warm in a way, something akin to stepping home for the first time after being away for so long. It was weird, in all the years he had known you, or been partnered up with you for whatever, he had never thought of you as anything other than a random classmate. However, after everything you had both gone through together that night, something new was forming.

Little did Kenma know, you were thinking the same. You noticed the little things about him; you thought back to how his nose would scrunch when he would mess up in a game or you would surpass him in something, or how his eyes lit up and almost sparkled ever so slightly when he was picking out stickers. Now that you were outside, you could see how his dyed hair swayed gently in the crisp November wind, or how his eyes would somewhat crinkle as he laughed when you made a joke.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. 

“Hey, so, I didn’t really get to eat at the party… Do you maybe wanna get something to eat nearby?” You asked, turning your head to Kenma. Realizing how that sounded like you were asking him on a date, you quickly stuttered out “Of course, you don’t have to! We can just get a small snack or, or maybe we don’t have to get anything!” You laughed awkwardly as Kenma showed no obvious emotions, however his eyes were slightly widened and his cheeks growing more red, but you chalked that up to the colder weather and surprise. 

Kenma suddenly remembered how he didn’t get a chance to eat as well, but in all the games you guys were playing, he didn’t get a chance to feel hungry. Realizing he had not responded, he quickly thought of a place to get food, his mind immediately wandering to 7/11.

“Oh yeah, sure. There’s a 7/11 down the street, if you want?” He said, and you were off.

***

Sitting in the 7/11 with Kenma under the fluorescent lights was oddly comforting. You were happily eating your warm soba noodles (topped with tempura) as Kenma ate his apple pastry (having already eaten half of an egg salad sandwich and wrapping the rest for later) as you engaged in mindless conversation, Kenma periodically pulling out his PSP to either play or check on things. 

During some random conversation about a new game Kenma was playing, you noticed him occasionally glancing behind you. Eventually, you looked behind you to see what looked like a newly installed slushie machine, touchscreen and all. Realizing Kenma wouldn’t speak up about it, you decided to take charge.

“Do you wanna get slushies?” You said with a grin. Kenma looked surprised for a second before lightly laughing.

“Sure.”

Over the machine, you tapped the screen to get a strawberry lemonade slushie, while Kenma opted for cherry one.

Slushies didn’t exactly pair well with warm soba, but tonight was apparently a night full of surprise, what with finding out about your boyfriend (ex, you reminded yourself), not to mention these spontaneous adventures with a random boy who was, you thought, not so random anymore.

“Wanna have a competition?” Kenma’s voice interrupted your train of thought, “Let’s see who can drink theirs the fastest.” You grinned.

“You’re on!”

After Kenma counted down, you both tried to down your slushie. Halfway through, though, you had to stop.

“Ah! Brainfreeze!” You exclaimed, clutching your head with one hand. Kenma also stopped drinking and laughed, “My head feels so numb, argh!” You hummed. “At least now I won’t think of Daishou anymore… My brain feels like it’s pounding like, like it’s having a rave or something!” It was getting late, meaning you were dangerously close to your stage of drowsiness that caused you to infodump like crazy. Kenma’s smile dropped every so slightly. 

“Hey, uhm,” he looked as though he was looking for the right words to say, “I’m really sorry about what happened, uh,” he scratched the back of his head nervously, “Sorry, I’m not great at… feelings… but, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.” 

You blinked for a second before smiling. 

“Thanks, Kenma.”

As you were finishing up the rest of your slushie, you turned to Kenma.

“Hey, uhm, I know this is pretty random but do you want to be my partner for the project we’re doing in science?” Kenma looked up from his PSP and stared at you, as if trying to remember what you were talking about, “The one about incomplete dominance and sex-linked traits? The teacher said you had to find a partner of the opposite gender so you could create a ‘hypothetical baby’, which, honestly, I find kinda dumb… Like, if the baby’s just hypothetical, then you could partner up with anyone, right? It’s not just me that feels that way?” 

Kenma remembered what project you were talking about, but he really enjoyed when you would continue on these rants. Being one to not talk that much, he liked how you were able to fill in the silence, although the times when you would be eating and he would be playing in silence were not as awkward as he thought, they weren’t awkward at all. 

“So… Do you want to pair up?” Kenma flushed, realizing he was mindlessly listening to you talk.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, sure.” You beamed.

bonus: you did your project on incomplete dominance and sex-linked traits and learned about the wonders of co-dominance in blood types. also kuroo was very worried about kenma leaving and thought he got kidnapped by a van that said ‘free games’ but it was all cool when he learnt kenma left with a girl ;)

[nekojitachan]

Hmm. So... the last week or two (two?) have been... interesting. Work go kablewy (that a word?) because of... things... (nothing bad for me, just... things... life is strange), head has been very owwiie, and have had some not very good days, to be honest.

But getting a lot of writing done! Including this - another part of the Raven!Andrew soulmate story that doesn’t exist.

Uhm, past sexual abuse is referenced, Nathaniel/Neil’s past is vaguely referenced/hinted at, Andrew’s past is vaguely referenced. Think that’s it for the warnings. Oh, and Andrew’s violent thoughts.

I should come up with a title for this at some point.

Oh, and rest of the story can be found here.

*******

Andrew stared at the visage on his laptop’s screen; the smile on Nathan Wesninski’s face was slightly smug as if he knew a secret that he wasn’t willing to share, his glacier blue eyes devoid of emotion. According to various internet searches, Nathan was a self-made man who owned several businesses in and around Baltimore, who gave regularly to charity, and had a wife and a son.

He also had persistent rumors of being connected to some unsavory individuals, but nothing that could be substantiated. Most people put it down to simple jealously – Wesninski was a man who’d built his own fortune, married his soulmate and had a talented son. People loved to find something wrong with a man so ‘blessed’.

Except he was somehow tied to the Moriyamas, whom Andrew was slowly learning weren’t entirely on the up and up, his lovely soulmate had a dead look in her eyes which Andrew knew all too well, and his son bore multiple scars, had a strong distrust of soulmates and was being treated as chattel.

‘Blessed’ wasn’t the first word which came to Andrew’s mind when he thought of Nathan Wesninski.

He closed the browser and forced himself to work on his class assignments; university wasn’t much of a challenge, but one of Tetsuji’s assistants checked to make sure he (and the rest of the Ravens) turned in their work and that they weren’t failing any classes.

There was almost half an hour of ‘study time’ left when he finished with assignments for the day (for the rest of the week, actually); he got up from his desk, which made Ben look at him. “You done already?” his partner asked, tone a bit envious.

Andrew nodded as he headed toward the door; Ben appeared surprised that he’d received some sort of answer and turned back to his statistics book with a slight smile.

There weren’t many people wandering about the Nest at that time since the players usually took advantage of any break they were given, so Andrew wasn’t surprised to not run into anyone along the way to the Black Hall nor to find Riko and Kevin all snug in their room. Kevin opened the door when he banged on it, expression confused when he saw Andrew smiling out in the hallway.

“Uhm, is everything all right?”

“I came to chat,” Andrew said as he shoved his way inside. “Not with you, #2.” He ignored Kevin calling him an asshole and strode toward Riko, who was reading an economics textbook. “With the man who can make things happen.” Or so the prick liked to think.

“Hmm, now that sounds interesting,” Riko drawled as he set the book aside and sat up straight. “What does white trash like you want? An early taste of Nathaniel?” He tsk’ed while waving his right index finger about as if chastising a naughty child. “Not until you live up to your end of the bargain on Friday.”

Andrew had to focus on Aaron, on keeping his brother safe, to prevent himself from bashing the bastard’s head in with the book on the bed. “It’s about the game on Friday,” he said as his grin widened, as he thought about using his racquet to eviscerate Riko and a good bit of his own team. “I want you to turn a blind eye to something for me during it.”

It was Riko’s turn to appear confused as he studied Andrew. “What? The refs can’t ignore you pulling something stupid out on court.”

“Not them.” Andrew reached into the right pocket of his track pants to pull out the bottle of his detested pills. “I’m going to play unmedicated,” he said as he gave the bottle a shake.

“That doesn’t sound like a good-“

“Why?” Riko asked as he cut off Kevin’s protest, his gaze intent on Andrew.

Andrew’s lips twitched even wider as he rattled the bottle some more. “Because it’ll make me play better, make me fight harder to win.” Because he wanted a few hours where he could feel his own emotions without the manic taint of the damn drugs, could be free of them, even if it was on an Exy court.

An Exy court with his soulmate nearby.

Riko studied him for a few seconds then grinned. “I’ll be disappointed if Rutgers scores a single point in the second half on Friday,” he said before he laid back down on his bed.

And Andrew would be disappointed if the prick didn’t get his throat crushed by a racquet to the neck during the game, but one couldn’t have everything, could they?

Taking that as a sign of both approval and dismissal, Andrew turned around to leave without saying another word. While he was in the Black Hall, he stopped by the break room there and snagged the good granola bars (chocolate chips) and a few energy drinks.

Moreau was back to full practice that day, but Andrew didn’t get a chance to talk to him; the backliner was never far from Nathaniel’s side, lately. Andrew suspected that last Friday night had something to do with it, especially when he was given virulent looks by the French bastard. He’d be offended by the obvious dislike, but he didn’t give a damn what Jean Moreau thought about him.

He didn’t give a damn about much, and wished he could include a certain redheaded backliner in that statement as well.

Still, while he spent too much effort studying the Scarlet Knights’ statistics and past games (any effort was too much), he noticed that the bruises on Nathaniel’s too pretty face were fading and that the rest of the Ravens (except Moreau) were giving the young backliner adequate space.

Hmm, it seemed that no one wanted to end up like Lev Federov.

Andrew also noticed the narrow looks Nathaniel cast his way from time to time, as if his soulmate was trying to figure him out. Every now and then he would grin widely at Nathaniel, which would make the redhead mutter something in French and stomp away with his dour shadow trailing along. There would be a pain, sharp and deep, inside of Andrew’s chest as he watched them leave together, until he reminded himself that Nathaniel was his soulmate, not Moreau’s.

Then he’d be so disgusted with himself he’d stalk off to the exercise room so he could hit a punching bag until the urge to destroy something finally eased.

Friday arrived, and Andrew made a game out of thinking up a different ways to kill everyone he saw wearing a #1 Ravens jersey as he went to his classes; he considered it a worthwhile mental exercise. He was distracted from imaging the guy in front of him two rows down in Biology class being slowly whittled away by razor sharp vegetable peelers when Aaron interrupted him by dropping into the seat next to him.

“Hey, real quick, hope you win tonight and Nicky sent this along for you in the monthly care package. Give him a call, okay?” He dropped a plain box in front of Andrew then left, headed to where his friends were seated.

Andrew frowned at the ‘care package’ since Nicky sent one to each of them (and why did he have to talk to the pest?), ready to throw it at his negligent brother until he picked it up and sensed the contents sloshing about inside. Finally, Aaron had come through for him; he slid the box into his backpack then proceeded to ignore the lecture.

He made sure to stash the two bottles of whiskey (cheap, but beggars weren’t about to complain) in his closet when he got back to his room and Ben was distracted, then joined the rest of the team for ‘game-prep’ (going over stats yet again, Tetsuji’s wonderful ‘win or be known forever as scum’ speech, endless warm-up and drills, and then the damn game).

He was half-tempted to drain one of the bottles dry first.

Instead, he clenched a hand around his bottle of pills before he took half a one, just enough to get him through the next couple hours, for the manic buzz in his veins to fade before the start of the game. He wished that he could flush all of them down the toilet, but he’d already tried in those first few months to go without them and failed miserably.

There was no coming off them while locked up in a bathroom for a few days, like he’d done with Aaron.

He didn’t feel the insidious, awful artificial euphoria begin to bleed away until well into the first quarter of the game, as he sat on the bench and watched the Ravens run the Scarlet Knights ragged out on the court. Rutgers might be one of the better ranked universities, but they were late in putting together an Exy team; they had a few good players, but not enough yet to be a serious contender.

Ivanova was able to keep the score low, especially when she had Hebig and Moreau helping her with defense. As much as it annoyed Andrew that the tall Frenchman was Nathaniel’s partner, the man was a good backliner and meshed well with the others, and was near perfect when Nathaniel was out on court with him.

Andrew had hoped that as the drug burned out, he’d be less fascinated with his soulmate, would realize how foolish he’d been to be drawn to him, to think that he could- to think anything about Nathaniel. Yet as he sat there, slightly numb but no longer filled with false emotions, he couldn’t help but be conscious of the lean figure dressed in black and red a few seats way on the bench… conscious of his presence and how the young man made him feel.

It was something so powerful yet fragile at the same time, such a protective, overwhelming urge, and it was all for Nathaniel.

Andrew was so fucked.

He sat off by himself during the halftime break, mentally reviewing how Rutgers had played during the first half, while Tetsuji berated players for their mistakes on court and reviewed plays for the last two quarters. Feeling the sensation of being watched, he glanced up to find Nathaniel gazing at him; his soulmate turned his head when Andrew met his eyes.

Riko clapped him on the shoulder before he stepped out on court and nearly got a racquet smashed down on his head. “Remember, shut the goal and he’s all yours.”

Andrew bit back on a retort that his memory was fine, mostly because he couldn’t help but add ‘unlike yours, you useless prick’.

Rutgers must have spent their break being yelled at, too, since they came back on court determined to redeem themselves, not that it did them any good. Andrew thought of Nathaniel bruised and held down, about him being a ‘reward’, then let his world narrow down to the ball and who had control of it. As that person approached his end of the court, his memory, usually a curse, pulled up their stats and playing style to help him prepare to defend the goal.

That was, if he needed to defend it; Loiseau and Bautista did a decent job of driving away the Rutgers players in the third quarter, then Moreau and Hebig took over for the last one. As always, Moreau put his size and strength to good use to block the opposing players from reaching the goal, and coordinated the defense with Hebig. Andrew didn’t exactly relax for the last part of the game, but he allowed himself a deep breath and the thought that his deal with Riko might not have been so insane after all.

That he could actually keep Nathaniel safe.

He was exhausted by the end of the game - exhausted, sore, covered in sweat and beginning to feel the first twinges of withdrawal, but he’d held up his end of the bargain: Rutgers hadn’t scored a single point in the second half. The crowd roared in victory as the final buzzer rang, and all he wanted was to go shower then find someplace quiet to curl up.

First he had to suffer through the stupid post-game handshake (touching all those people) then the locker room; at least Tetsuji saved the game review for the next day and everyone already knew that Riko and Kevin would do the post-game interviews. All he cared about was washing off the stink and some of the soreness with a bunch of hot water, and was one of the first in the large wash room.

When he came out, it was to find Riko talking to an upset Moreau (with no Nathaniel in sight); Riko flashed him a ‘thumbs up’ gesture before the prick sauntered away. Intent on reaching his locker so he could change, Andrew figured he’d deal with the backliner later and went to walk past him, only to lash out when Moreau grabbed his shoulder.

“Listen, if you touch him I’ll-“

Andrew spun around and fisted his hands into Moreau’s sweaty jersey then slammed him into the nearest wall; he had to yank on the material to pull the tall bastard down to somewhat face level. “Did I touch him last time?” he gritted out in a low voice so none of the Ravens gathering around them would overhear. “Did I?” When Moreau gave a reluctant shake of his head, Andrew tugged some more on the damp, black material. “I’m doing this so no one else gets him.”

Moreau appeared stunned by that claim, then quickly resumed scowling. “I will gut you if you hurt him.”

There was a slight bit less venom in the words that time, so Andrew took that to be a general warning for show.  He clicked his tongue as he pushed away from the backliner. “You’re spending the night in my room,” he called out as he walked over to his locker to get dressed, aware of the other Ravens staring at them.

For once ‘glad’ of the attention, he figured let them find out that Nathaniel was ‘his’ so he wouldn’t put up with anyone disagreeing on that front.

He was given a lot of sideway glances while he changed then walked out of the locker room, but no one said a word. He pushed aside the growing sense of nausea from withdrawal as his body clamored for another pill, for a hit of artificial mania, determined to face Nathaniel as himself.

When he reached Nathaniel’s room, he knocked twice then entered; Nathaniel sat on the bed in a defensive huddle, his arms wrapped around his long legs, dressed in one of Moreau’s jerseys and an impressive scowl on his face.

“And you said you’re not like the others. Liar.”

Andrew arched an eyebrow at the amount of scorn and hatred directed his way right then, impressed despite himself. “All I did was walk through the door.”

“You made a fucking deal with Riko for me!” Nathaniel shouted as he unfurled enough to snatch up a book from his nightstand and throw it at Andrew; of course he had good aim, Andrew barely managed to bat it aside in time. “For every week!”

“Every week I manage to nearly shut down the goal,” Andrew confessed.

Nathaniel produced a ragged laugh as he tucked himself into the corner of his bed. “Yeah, now you take playing seriously, when it gets you something, huh? When you get to act like the mark on your arm means you own someone when it doesn’t, it doesn’t mean anything other than you’re an asshole and the Fates hate me and I wish I could just burn it off and have everyone leave me alone!” He’d started out yelling at Andrew but ended up practically tucked into a ball with his arms wrapped around his head, his tone one of misery.

A misery which Andrew understood, considering all the times he’d wished much the same about his soulmate mark, after all the grief Drake had caused him over it, after believing no one would want him because of Drake and the others. Then what did he find? A lovely young man bearing terrible scars on his body and soul who was so much like him that it hurt.

Andrew had hoped he wouldn’t feel anything as he stood before Nathaniel with the drug (temporarily) out of his system, but he’d been deluding himself on that front. The protective urge he’d experienced earlier returned so strongly that he moved before he became aware of it, was kneeling on the bed before he could tell himself to stop.

Nathaniel reacted to his presence immediately; he began to sit up, to move his arms (to lash out), but stilled when Andrew cupped the back of his neck, his blue eyes wide with a mix of panic and fear.

“Nothing but this,” Andrew assured him, angry at himself for causing that fear. “I swear. Okay? Yes or no?” He just wanted to calm Nathaniel down.

His soulmate was quiet for a couple seconds, enough to make him begin to pull away. “Yes,” Nathaniel breathed out, his expression now wary as if he waited to see what Andrew would do next. Despite the strain on his tired muscles from leaning forward, despite the urge to sink his fingers in Nathaniel’s thick hair, despite the growing sense of nausea and dizziness, Andrew remained still and focused on the slowing pulse beneath his thumb.

“Why are you here?” Nathaniel eventually asked as he continued to gaze up at Andrew. “What do you want?”

He ignored the second (dangerous) question. “If I’m here, the others aren’t.”

“Are you serious?” Nathaniel scoffed, then frowned when Andrew remained quiet. “You’re really going to try to shut down the goal every game then come here and only sleep, just to keep Riko from handing me off to the others?”

He didn’t need to sound so doubtful about everything; if Andrew was the sensitive type, he’d be offended right then.

“You don’t snore like Ben does,” Andrew drawled as he forced himself to let go of Nathaniel and move. As he walked away from his incredulous soulmate, he motioned toward Moreau’s bed. “Tell your partner to get a spare set of clean sheets for me so I don’t have to sleep in his smelly bed.”

It took some effort, but he managed to make it into the bathroom without walking into the door or tripping over his feet; once inside with the door closed, he fumbled for his pills and choked one down, then slumped against the sink with the water running until the nausea was under control. He hated having to take the damn medication again, but Nathaniel might object if he spent the night puking his guts out.

When he finally left the bathroom, it was to find Nathaniel beneath the covers and facing the wall, and what appeared to be a set of clean sheets folded on top of Moreau’s bed. Andrew only spent a moment regarding what he hoped was a peace offering of sorts before he worked quickly to strip and remake the bed, tired and more than willing to fall asleep.

Maybe it was from working so hard during the game, maybe it was because his soulmate was nearby, but Andrew slept without any nightmares that night. He woke up when Nathaniel rose early and left the room, then got half an hour more sleep before he had to get up for another ‘fun’ day at the Nest.

Moreau caught up to him later in the day, when he was fixing a coffee to take back to his room after their morning practice; the other Ravens in the break room (including Ben) were quick to leave, obviously expecting some sort of fight between the two of them.

Andrew gave him a grin as he hopped onto the counter to sit. “Got any croissants on ya, Valjean?”

Moreau sighed as he fetched two mugs from a cabinet. “Do you try to be so annoying or is it natural?”

Andrew gasped and clutched his free hand to his chest. “Me? Annoying? I guess I’ll have to really lay on the charm now.”

“God forbid,” Moreau muttered as he glanced toward the door as if to ensure they were alone. He was quiet as he made two cups of tea (hmm, who might the other be for?), then approached Andrew with due caution. “You’re protecting Nathaniel,” he said, his deep voice quiet and expression serious.

“Why would I do a thing like that?” Andrew asked as he kicked his feet back and forth, uncaring about the heels of his sneakers hitting the lower cabinets.

Moreau frowned then set the mugs down so he could tug on the left sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal the fleur de lis and wave pattern of his own soul mark – the mark which was only revealed when he showered. “Because it’s what we do, we protect them.” His black eyebrows drew together as his frown deepened. “Well, most of us.”

Hmm, not people like Nathaniel’s father, maybe? But one thing at a time. “You know your soulmate,” Andrew accused as he held his mug of coffee beneath his chin, curious to see if Moreau would tell him the truth.

The backliner was quiet for a moment then nodded. “He plays Exy,” Moreau whispered with a gleam of fear in his eyes. “I can’t let Riko know.”

No, or Riko would use Moreau against the man, much like he’d used Nathaniel against Andrew (had he suspected they might be tied together because of their pasts?). “What does Riko have against you?” Andrew asked as he leaned forward. “You and Nathaniel? Who’s Nathan Wesninski, really?”

Moreau shook his head as he tugged down the sleeve of his shirt. “Not here,” he hissed out as he once again glanced toward the door. “That’s… not here.” He picked up the mugs and stared at Andrew as if searching for something, then nodded. “But if you’re serious about Nathaniel….”

“I want answers, so tell me where ‘not here’ is,” Andrew commanded as he poured his lousy coffee onto the floor while he held Moreau’s gaze.

Moreau nodded again as if answering an internal question. “Later. Riko and Kevin will be gone to play for their professional team, and Nathaniel to work on translations. I’ll let you know when to stop by.”

“Ooh, it’s a date,” Andrew drawled as he jumped to the floor and splashed coffee everywhere. “Just so you know, I don’t put out, I’m not that kind of guy.” He sauntered out of the break room to the sound of Moreau muttering in French.

They were going to be besties, he just knew it.

*******

Oh boy is Jean in for it now.

So... I’ve being going back and forth on this, but I’ve set up a discord channel (have had it for a while, actually). Don’t know if people would be interested in it as a place to get a look at fics, stuff in progress and things like that?

[rabble-dabble]

The Cancer King's Court ~ The Rightful Heir

This version of Feferi Peixes hails from a timeline where Karkat went to Eridan’s planet to drag him away from killing all the angels so he can actually help the team. Once there, he gets injured by one of the angels and Eridan kills him for being a mutant. Eridan reports the death, claiming the angels did it, so now the team needs a new leader.

Feferi steps up, ready to guide the group as best as she can. She… hits a few stumbling blocks. Vriska doesn’t really care and just does what she wants, leading to some friction when Feferi tries to make her play nice. This is not helped by her blowing off Terezi’s advice on how to deal with Vriska.

Feferi is well intentioned, but she has the same problem Karkat had: an “I’m right, you’re wrong” attitude. But, unlike Karkat, a Blood player who knows how to get people to get along, Feferi doesn’t have that same charismatic chutzpah. Karkat owned the room and dominated the conversation, he made people follow him. Feferi tries, but she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She just lacks the perspective he had to understand and work with the others. 

This manifests in various ways. She tries to protect Tavros because he’s the weakest member of the team, but she ends up coddling him, coming across as condescending and making him less effective. She tries to shut down the Sollux and Eridan rivalry by making them go on missions together, but she just ends up making them both more angry at each other. She tries to help Terezi with her blindness, but Terezi already has that in lock and feels insulted that Fef thinks she needs help with it in the first place. And so on.

Feferi goes God-Tier to try and get a handle on things, but, by then, it’s too little to late. Most the team has left to win the game on their own, so people start dying pretty quickly. Eventually, it’s discovered that Karkat was supposed to be the one to find the ectobiology labs, to which Eridan lets slip this little gem:

“oh, please. the mutant probably wwould'vve screwwed it up anywways.

”……)(ow did you know )(e was a mutant?“

Eridan spills the beans and Feferi kills him in a rage, quietly berating herself for ever putting up with him to begin with.

With little choice left, Feferi turns to the Horrorterrors, pleading with them for the chance to fix this doomed timeline. They agree to help, thanks to her being the favorite of Gl'bgolyb, but they can’t really do much. What they can do is let her into the dreambubbles so she can search across Paradox Space for an answer. There, she comes across the Cancer King. The two talk for a while. Feferi apologizes for messing everything up in his absence, claiming Karkat’s the better leader, but Karkat dismisses this and points out how he himself has fucked up. Karkat explains his mission and asks her to join him, explaining that he can fix her timeline once he takes control of the narrative. Feferi reluctantly agrees.

Feferi takes awhile to adjust to the Court’s modus operandi. What they’re doing to people is simply horrifying and she’s almost disturbed enough to quit on the spot the first time she sees the King absorb a crowd of people. It’s only under the reassurance that all this can be undone once Karkat controls the narrative that she sticks around, but she’s still reluctant to go on any missions.

Aradia, Terezi, Tavros, and the rest comfort her, understanding where she’s coming from. The Holy Prince tries, but, well, Feferi has had her fill with Eridans recently. Gamzee takes it upon himself to “enlighten” her. 

Slowly but surely, he nudges her into the Court’s line of thinking. The quicker we get the power we need, the faster we can get this done, and the sooner we can undo all the damage. It’s like ripping off a band-aid. So, Feferi eventually agrees to gather a sacrifice. She gathers a group of god-tiers together for Karkat to suck the life force out of. She’s… still horrified and disgusted by what she’s done and she isolates herself to think about it for a bit. Again, Eridan approaches her and offers to let her just fight against the Condescension’s forces. Feferi agrees, happy to distance herself from the “dirty work” of the Court.

She and Eridan bond over time and, eventually, Eridan confids his past to her. 

“W)(ale, your Feferi mig)(t not forgive you… but I do.”

Feferi also takes the time to buddy up with the other troll members of the Court, hoping to get to know them better so she could apologize to her friends back in her own timeline.

On the field, Feferi is the team healer. She keeps her comrades going when they’re fighting a losing battles and keeps Gamzee’s cult in top shape. That said, she’s usually alongside Eridan in the battlefield, becoming one half of an unstoppable duo that the Condescension’s army slowly learns to fear. Even with her compassion in tact and her loyalties split, Feferi proves herself to be The Rightful Heir to the Condescension’s Throne.

okay one FUCK YOU FOR KILLING KARKAT that’s an instant heart hurty for me

two, feferi learning about how it just Isn’t That Easy to lead a team and that Karkat’s leadership (if it was that even) was an essential point just because it kept everyone together is *CHEF’S KISS*

okay your art

feferi that looks SAD but like a matured sort of “heir” to the throne - I kinda digged into the homestuck symbolism (if you can see it) but kept it to her “theme” while still just trying to make it stylish