#can anyone guess who our blonde thief is?

[honeyjaez]

Maze of Miroh- Chapter 12 “Old Memories and New Problems

Minho cracked opened his eyes to the dark lit room surrounding him. His senses were still dulled from just waking up, but the soft lulling snores from Felix’s side of the room could no longer being heard. His roommate must have gone to train early in the morning in order to  avoid Woojin’s scolding about being on bed rest.

 He knew he should get up and get ready for the day, but after his episode with Jisung last night, Minho had gotten back to his room, falling into the deepest sleep he has ever felt. For the first time in his entire life he didn’t have his sleep disrupted by endless nightmares, faceless shadows. There was no screaming. No dead bodies.  And more so than that, he woke up without the immense pressure of despair on his chest that he so often felt.

For the first time in his life he felt better about things.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he still very much has issues within him. The thought of taking on The Order terrified him shitless. He still hurt from the loss of his family. Jeongwoo. Hyunjae. Grandma Yoo. But the fear seemed more manageable now, and part of him believed one way or another, they were doing the right thing. 

Minho groaned and groggily opened his eyes back up, reluctantly begging to get up while yawning loudly in the process. He winced as his joints cracked in the cold room and lethargically grabbed his towel, heading to shower,

__

After the longest shower in existents and felt like he was thoroughly clean, Minho wrapped his naked body up, heading out and allowing fresh steam to roll out of the bathroom.  He wandered up to his dresser that was filled with clothes that the other boys had graciously given him when he first joined. Slowly, he began to pull out a jeans and other garments to put on for the day.

And that’s when he saw it.

He had almost forgotten about it. Hurt by Hyunjae’s betrayal, Minho all but discarded the wayward gift that day, the envelope that had been entrusted Grandma Yoo to pass along to him.  But sure enough, like a virus, his eyes landed on the small parchment of paper slipped in between the clothes in his dresser.

Minho stood still, eyes carefully scanning the object.

He had half a mind to throw the thing out, feeling an overwhelming need to expunge anything Hyunjae out of his life. But still, Minho found himself with no self-control and his finger slowly traced the smooth paper. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he should move on. Whatever Hyunjae wanted to give him was unneeded in his life. 

But Minho couldn’t help himself, curiosity filling him too much, and he quickly found himself opening the small envelop with shaky hands

No note...

Minho tried to swallow his disappointment. Out of anything in the world, Minho wanted a letter the most, but alas, there was nothing. Nothing that would explain his friend’s betrayal or a hint to what was happening. 

Instead all there was, was a small golden object that slid out onto his hand. Minho carefully eyed the object and realized that it was a small golden locket with a golden chain to match. With shaking hands, he opened the locket and had to stop himself from letting out a silent choked sob, eyes fighting back tears.

Inside the locket was a single picture. It was of him and Hyunjae, their arms wrapped over each other’s shoulders. Hyunjae giving the camera a toothy grin, while Minho, he realized, was looking at Hyunjae. A hand slapped over his mouth and Minho realized he was crying. 

He remembered this day.

It was right before that day in the factory. The day everything went to shit. 

Hyunjae hadn’t been feeling well and so Minho made it his own personal mission to cheer his hyung up. He showed up at his apartment, movies and snacks in hand and asked if he could keep Hyunjae company.

It was all very out of character for Minho.

And Hyunjae had known this too.

But still, they stayed together that whole day, Minho trying his best to be a caretaker, but failing epically. Hyunjae didn’t seem to mind, actually being receptive to Minho’s failed attempts at comforting him. Eventually Hyunjae had admitted to Minho that day that he wasn’t actually sick that day. He had just had one his rare moments of depression and wanted to be alone that day. He confessed to Minho however that that soon changed once he saw Minho’s smiling face. “You have a face that makes everyone feel better. Makes them feel happy and safe.” he had said to him that day. Minho remembered it so clearly.

 They looked so happy in this moment. He looked down at his own face, seeing the soft, fond smile he was given the older. Hyunjae’s smile looked so authentic that Minho almost forgot it wasn’t real. Once again he found his stomach twist into tight little knots as he looked down, a common feeling when he looked at Hyunjae and Jisung’s words suddenly rang clearly through his head.

“Did you love him?”

A single tear slid down Minho’s cheek but he made no movement to wipe it off.

This sucked.

All of this sucked.

Suddenly of knock at his door broke him out of his trance and his head snapped up.

“Minho”

Minho’s ears perked, hearing Jisung’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Chan’s called a meeting” his voice was muffled by the door but Minho could hear the slur of his words and knew he must have just woken up. A small, half smile broke across his face and quickly wiped his tears, grabbing a sweatshirt on his way out.

“Hang on. I’ll be right there!”

___

They held the meeting in the living room, countless of sleepy faces already inhabiting the room. Minho sat on the end of the couch, with a groggy Jisung taking the spot next to him. Woojin sat off to the side, his black hair tussled to the side and….was he not wearing pants? Hyunjin was sprawled on the chair next to him, blanket still in hand as he yawned loudly and his hair in a fluffy heap. Changbin laid on the bean bag chair that sat on the floor, his back hair all ruffled from his sleep and Minho stifled a laugh because the usual cranky mercenary almost looked too adorable in that moment.

Chan was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed and heavy bags under his eyes. Seungmin was also standing off to the side, his body leaning up against the book shelf as his eyes seemed unfocused and his teeth tugging on his bottom lip, deep in thought. Concern coursed through Minho’s body. What had happened?

“Now I’m sure you are all wondering why I called you this early…” Chan started to say.

“Wait” Changbin mumbled quickly while looking around “We aren’t all here. Where is Felix and Innie?”

Minho nodded wordlessly, noticing the younger missing and heart did a quick jump suddenly. Was this about Felix? Was he okay?

Chan shook his head, eyes closing “I sent Innie to get Felix, they should be h-“

As if on que, the door swung open and a familiar tuff of red hair poked into frame. “Sorry I’m late!” a light voice sounded. Minho immediately sighed in relief and turned his head, locking eyes with a rather sweaty Felix, with Jeongin right behind him.

This seemed to catch Woojin’s attention too and the elder hissed in exasperation, glaring at the ginger headed boy. “Lee Felix I thought I put you on strict bed rest until that gunshot wound healed. Why the hell are you all sweaty?!”Minho flinched slightly at Woojin’s angry tone but Felix seemed unfazed and gave the older man a big smile.

“Ahh sorry hyung.” He said while sitting on the arm of the couch next to Woojin “If it helps I didn’t push myself too much!”

Woojin grit his teeth and stared at the younger boy. Finally he just threw his hands in the air and sat back down in annoyance. “Whatever. But if your wound doesn’t heal properly and you can no longer walk don’t come crying to me.”

Minho turned his gaze back towards Chan and noticed the older boy giving them a small, amused gaze, despite the bags under his eyes. He caught Minho’s gaze and without missing a beat winked at him like he was giving him a hidden message. “Right” Chan coughed suddenly “Well anyways, you are probably wondering why I called all of yo-“

“It’s about the canister you had Minho steal yesterday right?” Jisung interrupted while yawning noisily. Eyes wide, Minho looked to Chan for confirmation and the elder boy just nodded once, unfazed by Jisung’s outburst.

“And? What about it?”  Changbin grumbled, still trying to wake up.

“Yeah wasn’t it just some information on The Order?” Felix added. 

“That much is true” 

Minho ear perked up as Seungmin finally joined in the conversation. However an awkward silence fell upon the group as they waited for the Strategist to continue. Minho noticed with a twist in his gut that Chan’s gaze was grave. Whatever was going on, Chan was not happy.

 Seungmin sighed and pushed himself off the shelf behind him, gaze serious. “Rather than it being information on The Order, it was actually containing a new biological weapon for them.”

Silence.

Minho felt his eyes go wide knowing what this meant, and he felt his heart beat quickening. “It’s a…. chemical?”

Chan nodded, face grim.

Changbin seemed to mirror Minho’s shocked expression and looked towards Seungmin “What kind?”

The younger shook his head, frustration clear as day on his face. “I’ve been up all night with Chan hyung and Jin but we aren’t any closer to figure that out then we were when we started.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Woojin asked, a pinch of hurt laced in his voice. “If it’s a biological weapon, you should have had a doctor look at it as well.”

Chan turned and looked sadly back at Woojin, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple I’m afraid. I know your skills better than anyone Woojin but trust me when I said this is just simply out of our area of expertise.”

“Even Hyunjin hyung’s?” Jeongin pipped up from the side. Minho turned and looked at the black haired boy in question and the chemist just shrugged his shoulders casually. “I’m more of an explosion kind of guy. Once you get into biological stuff I’m pretty useless.” He muttered

“Says the guy who uses his bombs to put people to sleep” Changbin grumbled under his breath.

Hyunjin’s ear twitched and Minho knew the younger had heard the comment, but he made no notion to it. He was being all nonchalant about the whole thing but Minho could tell Hyunjin was rather troubled about the whole situation himself.

“So what do we know” Chan started while lifting a finger. “One. The Order is experimenting with some kind of biological weapon to use for whatever reason. Two. We have said weapon. And Three. The Order knows we took it.”

“Thanks Minho” Changbin muttered.

Minho opened his mouth to defend himself, but Jisung was quicker and rounded on the smaller boy “I mean who else was going to take it hyung?” he challenged “Is The Order supposed to think the little old lady down the street took it?”

Minho gaped his mouth at the younger, surprise written on his face. This was very different than from the scolding Jisung gave him yesterday from the very same thing.

Chan nodded “Jisung is right. This is no one’s fault. We are the only ones in Spector that would take it, so it’s only natural for The Order to assume it was us.”

“But what is IT exactly?” Felix interjected.

Chan shook his head and pulled the small canister out of his pocket, looking down “I don’t know….” he trailed off, pausing. Minho could tell from the tone of his voice that he was contemplating something. But what?

His question was answered when Chan gave a long sigh and turned back up towards the group.

“I don’t know what it is….” He started again “But I know someone who might…”

Minho only stared at him, questioning, but unbeknownst to him, the original members of SKZ all stared at Chan with a horrified gaze.

“Hyung” Jisung said slowly “You can’t mean...?”

Their leader nodded, expression solemn. Minho could feel Jisung tense up almost immediately and noticed Seungmin face darken. What was going on?

“You can’t!” Changbin growled suddenly “You promised him!”

“Yeah hyung!” Jisung’s tone was desperate but dark. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?! If you bring him back here he will just be in dang-“

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Chan hissed back.

The room fell deathly silent at Chan’s outburst. Both Changbin and Jisung backed down almost immediately while the rest looked at one another awkwardly. Whatever this was, it was obviously a secret held between the original members. Minho knew that much. He didn’t even know they kept secrets. Minho sighed, knowing it was his turn to act like a member of the group.

“Look” he said while standing up, hands in the air “Whatever is going on, it’s obviously needs be discussed by you four. Let’s leave you al-“

“No” Chan said almost too harshly “No more keeping this a secret.” He turned his gaze back up and gave Minho a grateful look before looking at Jisung and Changbin in turn with a harder gaze. “I know I promised him I would never speak of him to anyone but this is bigger than us.” He said the last part with a waver in his voice, almost like he was getting emotional and he lifted up the canister to the group. “We have this strain, but who is to say The Order doesn’t already have clones of it? The fact that Hyunjin couldn’t figure out its effects means it’s something big…..and that scares me to death.” He paused, letting out a long sigh and lowering the canister back to his side. They all held their breath. “Spector might be in serious trouble. Whatever this strain does…. We NEED him.”

As he finished his speech, Chan looked back at Seungmin, a silent conversation passing between the two. Minho watched as the tiny boy in gasses stared evenly at Chan, finally nodding in agreement. He then in turn looked back towards Jisung and Changbin, the same conversation passing between them. Both boys hesitated before sharing a look and begrudgingly nodded in agreement.

“Fine” Changbin muttered “But if he yells at us, I’m blaming you”

Chan smiled weakly at this and gave the younger an appreciative smile “I will take the blame.”

“Does anyone wanna explain to the rest of us who you are talking about?” Minho heard Hyunjin whine.

Chan let out a long sigh before turning back to the rest of the group. “His name is Dowoon and he is the only one who might know how to stop this.”

 ___

“So you’re saying that you, Seungmin, Changbin, Chan hyung all knew about this Dowoon guy? And you kept it a secret from the others to protect his identity?” Minho whispered hushed to Jisung who seemed rather annoyed with the elder’s bombardment of questions.

“We did” he hurriedly whispered back “Dowoon was the only one who survived that day when The Order killed Sungjin, Younghyun and the others and that was only because Chan nearly killed himself to save him!” he paused and let out a sigh, sensing his own agitated tone. “He didn’t die that day, but The Order knew his face after that. Being the only survivor from Sungjin’s group, we all, including himself knew he couldn’t stay above ground. As a Scientist, Dowoon knew a lot about The Order. He was a threat to them” he explained, a sad look on his face. “So all agreed he would hide out the rest of his days in The Under and we wouldn’t tell a soul. For all the world knew, the man named Dowoon died that day with the rest of his members….”

Minho contemplated his words while looking back ahead, peering passed Chan’s head. Fast forward a few hours from Chan shocking confession about a secret ex member, amd Minho currently found himself, along with Jisung, Chan and Woojin heading down a corridor, hidden deep in Spector’s underground. The walls surrounding them were cold hard stone and Minho knew the aesthetic matched the name.

The Under

___

*Few hours earlier*

“Dowoon is alive!?” Hyunjin gasped, fully awake now. ”You mean THE Dowoon?” his eyes were wide with awe, like he was admiring the name. “Chan! Everyone in the chemist world knows that name. He is a legend!”

Chan nodded, shame twinkling in his eyes. “It’s a long story… but all you need to know is that he is alive….”

“Where?!” Hyunjin’s eyes were sparkling now, the sheer thought of his hero coming back from the dead.

“The Under….”

Minho watched as Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly lost their sparkle, his face falling.

“You mean…..?”

Chan nodded, knowing full too well what that name meant.  But the name was foreign to Minho. He had never heard it before. The rest of his members however seemed to know the name well. He turned and saw Jisung look at him with a grim face, shaking his head slightly. Minho then looked up and even saw fearless Felix’s eyes wide slightly at the name. Only Jeongin seemed just as lost as Minho.

“What’s The Under?” The younger piped up, voice curious.

Woojin’s face darkened as he stood up, walking until he was next to Chan, his turn to overlook the group now. “All you need to know is that it’s off-limits Innie.” He said Jeongin by name, but Minho couldn’t help but feel like Woojin was addressing them as a whole.

“Trust me” the eldest continued “when I say I’d rather deal with The Order than The Under I mean it.” Woojin then spun on Chan, his face severe “If you are going down there, then you are taking me.”

“Wooj…” Chan started to say but was interrupted when Woojin raised a hand in the air to stop him.

“I know more about The Under than any of you. This is NOT up for debate. I’m going”

Chan knew better than to argue. He didn’t like it, but he knew better. Begrudgingly, Chan bowed his head in response then turned to the rest of the group. “Well there you have it. We have to go down to The Under and find Dowoon who is our best bet at finding out what exactly this chemical does. I will personally lead this mission myself…” he trailed off, looking at his members, a grave look on his face. “My first choice would be Felix but since you are injured…”

The red head stood up, determination on his face “I can still go hyung! It doesn’t even hur-“

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!” both Changbin and Woojin hissed in unison, both giving the younger boy hard glares. Felix opened his mouth like he was going to argue but quickly shut up as he took one more look at Changbin’s furious gaze.

Chan nodded in agreement “Sorry lix’ but they are right. You need to focus on healing that gunshot wound.”

Minho could see Felix pout but didn’t argue as he sat back down. “Changbin-”

The younger tore his gaze from Felix’s brooding face and turned to their leader.

“I’m going to ask you to stay here as well.” He started “We are going into neutral territory and I’m afraid having my trigger happy gunner might make negations a bit tense.”

“Hyung I don’t reall-“ he began to argue.

“Besides” Chan added with a smile “I need you to watch Felix and make sure he doesn’t go running off.”

Changbin shut up and quickly stole a brief glance at the moping boy much to Minho’s amusement. If Felix heard his name, he made no notion to it and Changbin turned back around, nodding once.

“Neh hyung what about me?” Hyunjin pipped up from his chair. Minho knew Chan had to pick Hyunjin. If he wasn’t taking Felix or Changbin, Hyunjin was their next best line of defense.

But to Minho’s confusion Chan shook his head at the younger. “I need you here Jin. There is no guarantee that Dowoon will know what this strain does, and if that’s the case I need you to be here and continue to pick at it. I don’t want to lose time if we have it.” He paused and looked off to the side at Jeongin who seemed rather disinterested at this time. “Have Innie help you.”

“Hey!”

Minho expected Hyunjin to argue as well, but surprisingly the boy nodded his head in compliance without saying a word.

Seungmin stepped forward, pushing the glasses up on his face up. “So that means the 5 of us-“  

“4 Seungminie” Chan interjected “I need you here as well.”

Minho’s eyes shot wide. Was Chan seriously not going to take his best guys on such an important and dangerous mission?

Seungmin seemed shocked by this and spun on their leader “W-Wha?!” he exclaimed, flabbergasted. “You mean to tell me you expect to get down there and find Dowoon without me?! How exactly do you plan on dealing with Zico and his thugs Hmm?!”

Chan smiled and placed a comforting hand on Seungmin’s head, ruffling it. “Seungmin, with me gone, I’m putting you in charge. The Order knows we took their canister and while I know they probably won’t find our hideout anytime soon, I don’t want any chances. I want you to stay here and work with Changbin on an emergency exit plan in case worse comes to worse. Do you understand Minnie?” he added “If anything happens to me down there, you are next in charge. You need to take care of your members here” Chan finished with a fond gaze.

Seungmin’s ear burned bright red as he quickly shoved Chan off, embarrassed. “Whatever. If you die I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that” Chan let out with a chuckle. He then turned back to the group and eyed the remaining members, his gaze lingering on Minho’s a moment longer than the others. “That leaves Jisung, Minho, Woojin and myself as the lucky winners.”

“B-But” Minho suddenly spurted out “I thought I was taken off missions until Jisung said otherwise”

Chan tiled his head in confusion and he heard Jisung mumble beside him. “It’s cute that actually thought I was serious about that.”

Minho rounded on the younger with a look of shocked betrayal. He playfully shoved the younger lightly “You butt! I actually believed you! “

“Shh” the younger hushed him “Chan is still talking.” Minho rolled his eyes knowing the younger just said that to avoid Minho’s scolding but complied and turned back to Chan who looked at the pair with a fond glint in his eyes.

“Meeting is over. I want the three of you to meet back here in exactly thirty minutes so that I can debrief you on the mission. The rest of you, get to work!”

___

*Present Time*

Now with that being said, Minho still knew nothing about The Under, nor why everyone was so afraid of it. Both Chan and Jisung had been there before, that much was known. But to Minho, Woojin seemed the most familiar with the area. The entrance to The Under was supposedly the most mysterious thing in the city of Spector, eluding The Order grasp for years now. But Woojin found it with ease. And on top of that, he just so happened to have a key laying around that opened said entrance. When he asked the older about it, Woojin just got very quiet and claimed to have found they key randomly in the streets.

Minho wasn’t stupid. Woojin obviously had some sort of past with The Under, but he wasn’t about to pry.  

“Neh Jisungie” he whispered again “What’s The Under like?”

Jisung didn’t tear his gaze from in front of him but sighed quietly in response.

“It’s a very dangerous place” Woojin answered for him, obviously hearing Minho’s question.

“Dangerous how?”

“It’s lawless down here.” Woojin explained “Like you think The Order is bad. The Under is led by a ruthless and cruel man who goes by the name Zico.” Woojin spat the last part out, almost like the name itself left a bad taste in his mouth. “Zico is……well…..let’s just say Zico is more often than naught the one pulling the trigger against your head.”

Minho gulped. He did not like Zico already.

“The Under are for the worst of the worst. Criminals. Murderers. Thief’s” Chan explained “They refuse The Order like the few of us, but unlike us who do it for the greater good, The Under exists only for anarchy.”

“If they had their way, The Under would destroy all of Spector just to make a statement” Woojin added.

Unknowingly, Minho began to fiddle with the locket that was now hanging around his neck feeling the anxiety setting in. He knew he should have thrown it away, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. He felt drawn to the object and the memories it gave him, even if most of them were false.

Jisung noticed this and eyed the small pendent. “What’s that?” he asked.

Minho’s hand froze almost immediately and he let the locket go, hands falling to his sides. “Oh it’s nothing…..” He knew he should feel ashamed. After all, Hyunjae was their enemy. Why should he cherish something that was given to him by him?

But yet he did.

While Minho was trapped in his own thoughts, the others began chatting quietly. “We are getting close” Woojin warned. “Stay on your guard” he hissed “Everyone down here is either looking to rob you, or kill you.”

 But of course Minho did not hear this, nor did he notice the flash of blonde rushing at him from the side. Jisung did, but it was too late. Suddenly Minho felt pain explode on his side as he got knocked sideways. Someone had just kicked him and his body went flying, hitting the cold hard wall behind him.

“Minho!”

Jisung’s words were drowned out as he groaned in pain.  His eyes shot opened and he looked up to see a strange blonde overlooking his slumped body, a fox like grin etched on his face. The stranger opened his palm to reveal a small golden object dangling from his hands and Minho’s heart sank.

His locket.

“Finders Keepers” the boy sneered, his fox smile getting bigger and bigger.

“Hey!” Minho yelled, quickly standing up. “Give that back!”

The fox boy looked down at the locket, then turned back to Minho, eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. “Ooooo tempting…but I think I’ll pass. Think of this as payment for not killing you guys on the spot.” Despite his severe words, the fox like grin seemed to be permanent on his face and he gave Minho a cheeky wave before dashing off in a blinding speed.

Minho let out a small growl and shot up, chasing after him despite his members yelling at him to come back. He locked eyes with the strange blonde who noticed Minho following him and begun running faster, almost catching up to him.  The thief noticed this and gave Minho a playful look

“Alright” he could hear him say “You wanna play? Then let’s play pretty boy.” His voice was light but Minho could hear the homicidal tone to it “Let me welcome you to The Under.”

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

[minsyal]

The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

Feedback is always appreciated

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@ambiguous-g @ren-ni @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @lgbtomatoes

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Random Thoughts: A Dark Past

This came into mind; the Male reader is a prisoner of war and is taken back to the mainland. As usual, me and @softboy5393 fanboying over this.

I went overboard with this.

You were taken by a Titan with a long face, like a horse into its mouth. You fell unconscious during the whole time.

When you woke, you were in some room. You looked around to see where you were, you noticed you had a red armband on your left arm. 'What the... where am I?'

Then the door opened. "Ah, I see you're awake." the unknown person said along with others. He had blonde hair and an undercut style which was pushed back. [This] He also had an armband on, but his was more of a lighter red.

You took the people that walked and noticed that Reiner was there. "YOU DAMN TRAITOR!" you attacked him. You didn't do that much damage before getting pulled off of him.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! DON'T TOUCH ME!" you yelled trying to get away from them.

"So, you're the guy that Pieck took? You island devils are sure are something." The one with blonde hair said, sitting down. Reiner was dusting himself off.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves? I'm Pieck. You already know Reiner. The one with glasses is Zeke and the one next to you is Porco." The girl- Pieck said. She had long, disheveled shoulder-length black hair, a Greek nose, and relaxed dark brown eyes.

"You probably have questions as to where you are?" you calmed down a bit to respond.

"Yes. And why am I here? Why did you take me from my home?" you said, backing away from them.

"You're in the nation of Marley. And it was Reiner's idea to take you."

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

It had been 4 years since you were captured. You've kind of gotten used to the new environment. 'So, humanity didn't die after all?'

You were shocked by the outside world. There were these flying ships in the skies, a cart that was driving without horses leading it. The food you have never seen before. A picture that was too detailed for any person to draw.

"That's a blimp, that's a car, and that's a photograph," Zeke said, showing you everything.

You also got to meet others. "That's Gabi, Falco, Sophia, and Udo. They are the next in line to inherit the Titans."

Gabi looked at you with mistrust. She had hatred in her eyes. "Don't mind her, she hates anyone from the 'Island of Devils.'" Zeke whispered into your ear.

It has taken a while for Gabi to get used to you but in due time.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You were walking with Pieck, Reiner, and Porco in the Liberio Internment Zone. There were stands everywhere and colorful decorations everywhere. You were amazed.

"Today's the festival, M/n. Ambassadors and famous families from all over the world are going to be here for Willy's speech. Of course, since you're with us, you'll be joining too." Pieck said she was your favorite out of all of them.

"Let's go try some things. Try this." she gave you some kind of dessert with a cone?

You gave it one lick... "WHY IS IT SO COLD?!?!" you said, others were looking at you weirdly.

"What's this?" You picked some triangle-shaped food with toppings and cheese? "Mmm, this is good! I never had anything like it!"

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You had a fun time at the festival but now it was time for Willy Tybur's speech. You sat with the others but Porco, Pieck, and Zeke were requested.

Then the sounds of instruments began to play and Willy came on stage. He bowed before starting. "Allow me to tell you a story."

(This is the entirety of Willy's speech)

"Approximately one hundred years ago, the Eldian race ruled the world with the power of the Titans."

"Between the appearance of the Founder, Ymir, and the present day, Titans have stolen the lives of so many people that the present population of the world..." showed Titans eating people. "Could die thrice over and still not compare."

Then the lights turned red, people appeared covered in blood and screaming. "Because of Titans, and an extraordinary number of races, and the cultures ad histories thereof, have been stolen from the world."

"That slaughter has defined human history and the history of the Eldian Empire. And when the Eldian Empire ran out of enemies, it turned to the killings of its own kind."

You were shocked. Was this the history of your ancestors? Were they like this?

"Thus began the Great Titan War."

"Houses holding eight Titans shed blood in combat among themselves. In these desperate times, one Marleyan saw a path to victory. He was our hero, Helos."

"By artfully waging an information war, he led the Eldian Empire's biggest threats to turn against and kill one another. By joining hands with the Tybur family, they forced the unbeatable King Fritz to flee and retreat to Paradis island." the crowd began to clap. You were awestruck.

"But even exiled to the island, the king still held power. Tens of millions of Titans are capable of crushing the world flat still slumber on that island." the crowd gasps at the revelation and fear.

"The fact that our world still exists undisturbed to this day is pure luck. That is the only explanation our Titan experts could muster up. My fatherland, Marley, decided to take the initiative against the island and sent four Titans to neutralize the threat, but that plan failed and only the Armored Titan returned."

'That's why Reiner broke down the walls.'

"In other words, the Eldian Empire, the scrounge of human history, is alive and well."

"Now, the story up to this point consists of facts known to everyone. The truth, however, differs slightly. From here on, I'll discuss the memories passed down in my family alongside the Warhammer Titan."

"The complete truth will be revealed here and now for the first time. Approximately one hundred years ago, the one who ended the Great Titan War was neither Helos nor the Tybur family." Two people standing side by side to him.

One was represented Helos and the other, the Tybur family.

"The man who brought an end to that war and saved the world was King Fritz. He came to regret the Eldian Empire's savage history and the infighting among his own people."

"Above all, he grieved for the Marleyans and the oppression they lived under. When he inherited the Founding Titan, he and the Tybur family devised a plan." The lights turned blue with King Fritz and the Tybur family shaking hands in agreement.

"To establish a single Marleyan as a hero in the war. His name: Helos. After that, King Fritz moved as many Eldians to Paradis as he could. Erecting the great walls around them."

"He left a warning if anyone threatens his peace, countless Titans would be unleashed in retaliation. However, he never intended make good on this threat." Things began to add up to you. That's why the world hates Eldians. 'I'm not what they say we are!'

He continued. "King Fritz made a vow of renouncing war and bound his successors to uphold it, just as he had. Thus his ideology was passed down to each new King of the walls and the Titans with the power to crush the world remain dormant."

"Marley didn't stop Eldia and pure luck hasn't kept the world from being crushed, it was the king of the walls, Karl Fritz, a man who yearned for peace. That's it. That's all he wanted. He said if Marley grew strong someday and came in force to shatter his peace and seize the Founding Titan, he would accept it."

"He believed the sins his people committed were so horrific that they could never be atoned for."

"When the day of retribution finally comes, I will accept it until then let me enjoy this walled paradise, free from strife and conflict. I ask for nothing but a brief span of peace."

"Those were the final words the king left us with." King Fritz stood next to Willy bowing.

The crowd erupted into chatter. "What does this mean?" Gabi was shocked to along with her friends. You were twice as shocked as they were.

"If what he saying is true..."

"So, Marley and the Tybur family didn't save the world?"

"Willy wouldn't lie..."

"That means Paradis doesn't actually pose a threat, right?"

Willy spoked, the crowd went silent. "It's true, to secure our own safety, my family joined hands with King Fritz and became heroes to the world. While our fellow Eldians became devils but plainly, we Tyburs are petty thieves, growing fat on honor we did not earn."

"I stand before you willingly parting with my false glory because I have come to understand that the world we share is in grave danger" the crowd began to chat again. The drums began to ring.

"With the Founder's might, King Fritz erected three walls, using a great host of colossal Titans..." the background changed to colossal titans conjoining arms. "Counted together, the walls surely contains tens of millions of colossal Titans."

"They guard the King's peace as his shield and his spear or they did, but now, that peace is being threatened from within. An uprising has taken place on Paradis, the king has been deposed, the Founding Titan stolen."

The background changed to a devil. "The thief is an enemy to every man, woman, and child outside his island. An enemy of peace, his name... IS EREN JAEGER." Your eyes widen...

"If the colossal of Paradis are ordered to walk, the rumbling will be felt across the Earth and death will follow. Until now, only royalty has had the power to wield the Founding Titan and King Fritz's vow has kept his descendants from using it, but this Eren Jaeger has found a way to use the founder without having royal blood."

"Which means he could begin the rumbling at any moment. Once the walls of Paradis begin to walk, there will be nothing we can do. Except flee in vain from the sound of Earth-shaking steps that will herald our doom." your face turned into a worried one. Was this going to happen?

"These monsters will crush every city, trample every tree and flower, they will literally flatten our world. I have always hated my blood and more than anyone. I have wished that my race would disappear."

Willy sounded like he gonna burst into tears. " However, I confess that I want to live. That despite everything, I believed this world is my birthright just as it is yours."

"The people gathered here may belong to different races, different nations but if we're to survive this crisis then for the first time in history, we must join as one. SO PLEASE, if you wish to live and lend me your strength, help me protect our world's future!" The cameras began to flash. The crowd erupted into cheering.

"If we work together, we can overcome any obstacle, any threat! I ask each of you to join me as I go to fight the devils who would plunge our world into hell! HELP ME DEFEAT THEM!"

The crowd continued to clap and cheer. "Here and now, as a representative of Marley's government, I send this message to the devils of Paradis!"

"CONSIDER THIS, A DECLARATION OF WAR!" As Willy said that, a Titan erupted from the building behind the stage. A Titan you knew very well.

"Eren..."

[ikleesfiction]

Miss Americana

Fandom : Crossover Hawaii Five-0 x Chicago PD TV Word count : 5,610 words Pairing : Steve McGarrett x Danny Williams; Jay Halstead x reader

Summary :  You met Williams-McGarrett family in Los Angeles and they introduced you to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Your boyfriend, Jay Halstead, doesn't know anything about this. Yet.

Author's note :

This is the fourth one shot of "Will you follow through if I fall for you" fic continuation. It would be better if you read it first. But if you don't, here's the quick summary.

This happened after I listened to a few podcasts (1  🞂  2  🞂 3) of Scott Caan and Alex O'Loughlin, passionately talking about Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. 

This fic does not comply to the canon of Hawaii Five-0 or Chicago PD. So if you don't follow one of the other, it should not be a hindrance, I think. Here's hoping that I'm right.

Disclaimer

◢◤

"Would you like another cup of coffee?

You look up from the book in your hand to the waiter addressing you.

"Oh, I would love to. But it's already my fourth cup of the day," You grimace at him. "Maybe I'll take a bottle of water, please? Cold, if you have one."

The waiter grins at you, "Sure thing," then leave with your empty cup of coffee.

You are supposed to meet your friend, Tim, at his house on The Bird Streets to work on a song. However, he got a sudden appointment and asked you to wait for his call to reschedule. So here you are, sitting at a Cafe/Bistro somewhere in Los Angeles, drinking too much coffee.

You check your watch and your phone. It's almost lunchtime, but your phone is still showing nothing. Alright then, you thought to yourself, back to the book. Your eyes immediately find the last paragraph you read on Astrophysics for People in a Hurry.

Five pages later, the waiter puts a bottle of water on your table, "Here it is. You sure you don't want another cup of coffee?" He jokes with you.

You laugh in response, "No, really, thank you."

The waiter leaves with a smile and turns to the table across from yours. That's when you notice somebody's sitting there.

"Good afternoon. Only for two?" The waiter lays two menu cards on the table.

"Four. My husband and daughter are parking the car." The man answers him with a smile. He has a little boy sitting next to him. His son, you guess, since both of them have blond hair. Their noses look similar too.

"Danno, can I have ice cream for lunch?" The boy begs his father, pointing at one of the delightful pictures on the card.

"Hmm, maybe." The father hums his reply. He exchanges a knowing glance with the waiter.

"Do you want anything to drink while you're waiting?"

"Soda!" The boy yells from his chair, who laughs at his father's glare.

"How about two glasses of orange juice?" The father checks to his son before confirming it with the waitress.

"Okay, be right back with your drinks."

After the waiter leaves, the boy begins to prattle about everything to his father. About giraffes at the zoo ("They are so tall like Dad!"), about his favorite ice cream flavors ("Cookie Dough. But I like Kame's shave ice better, Danno"), about swimming at Venice Beach ("There's a lot of people there, Danno. I like our beach more")

The boy doesn't even look like he needs to breathe. You can't help but let out a chuckle. His father looks up at you and shares a grin. "That's great, Charlie," He comments to his son.

You let their conversation become a white noise while you read your book.

At your periphery, you see someone passes by. However, you don't expect a hand to suddenly sneak your phone from the table. Your hand instantly grabs that wrist, trying to stop it from stealing your phone. But the thief forcefully pulls his hand out of your reach and moves away.

Unfortunately for the thief, he runs straight to the father at your neighboring table. The man has no problem flipping the thief over and pushes him to their table. When the thief squirms away from his clutch, the man lifts the thief's elbow high up and turns it behind his back in a very painful lock. The unpleasant sound coming out of the thief's mouth proves how excruciating it is.

The man's eyes wander. Many shocked faces are staring at him, including yours. "It's okay, I'm a cop," He explains.

In contrast to the crowd, the boy looks at his father in awe, gleefully clapping his hands.

"Charlie, why are you clapping? You're not supposed to clap at this. Oh my god, you are just like your father! Happy to see any aggression," The man rants as he takes out a cable tie from his trousers' pocket. You don't even know why he got cable ties in his pocket. He efficiently ties the perp's hands behind his back and forces him to sit.

Only then, the man addresses the crowd again, "Has anyone called 9-1-1?"

"I did. The police are on the way," One of the cafe's staff squeaks from the door, with a phone still in her hand.

"Excellent! Did you hear that? Your ride would be here soon," The man tightly squeezes the thief's shoulders. The thief could only reply with an agonized grunt.

Everybody else resumes their activities with a sporadic look to their table.

The boy picks up the stolen phone from the floor. It fell near his foot during the short scuffle. "Danno," He hands your phone over to his father.

"Ah, thanks, Charlie," The man ruffles the kid's hair and kisses the top of his head.

"I believe this is yours?" The man returns the phone to you. "Hope it's still working?" He cringes at the spiderweb marks on the phone screen.

"Thanks. Probably not. But it's alright." You smile at the man and offer to shake his hand, "Y/N Y/LN, thanks again for helping me,"

The man takes your hand, "Hey, no big deal. Danny Williams. And this is my son, Charlie," Danny brings Charlie in front of him. You extend your hand to Charlie as well.

All of a sudden, you hear voices yelling from behind you. "Danno! Charlie!"

You look back to see a tall, dark, imposing man and a beautiful teenage girl rushing in your direction. Charlie shouts back at them, "Daddy! Gracie!"

So you guess they must be Danny's husband and daughter.

This new man drops down to Charlie's level and checks on him, trying to see if he's injured. "Are you okay? Charlie?"

"Dad! Dad! Danno was soooo cool! He pushing and then flipping and then that man went aaargh!" Charlie re-tells the scene to his father, holding his elbow behind his back to show him.

Couldn't really understand his son's story, the man asks his husband to elaborate, "Danny, what's happening here? Why are you arresting this man?"

"I'm not arresting anybody, Steve. We don't have jurisdiction to make an arrest, you know? Since we are in LA, not Hawaii? I'm just holding this man until LAPD shows up," Danny clarifies to his husband, Steve.

"But why?" Steve is still confused.

"This guy here, what's your name?" Danny barks at the thief. But his mouth stays glued. "Really? Would you prefer my ex-SEAL here asking you the question?" Danny gestures in Steve's direction.

Steve stands tall. His hands are folded in front of his chest. His biceps bulge in his tight t-shirt. The thief's face turns green, looking fearful. Steve's scowl was probably not helping either.

"Danny?? What's going on here?" Steve begins to lose his patience.

"What?? It's no big deal, babe!" Danny yells back at Steve. "This guy here tried to nick this woman's phone. I'm just helping her," Danny motions in your direction.

"Y/N, here's my husband, Steve McGarrett, and our daughter, Grace," Danny continues to introduce you to his family. You shake their hands and exchanging simple pleasantries.

"As I said, I just helped Y/N to get her phone back. Now we are waiting for LAPD," Danny ends his explanation.

Shortly a police car comes, and two officers quickly take their statements. Initially, the police officers are bemused to find the thief already sat with his hands tied behind his back. After Danny explains that he is a Detective from Honolulu PD and how he prevented the attempted theft, the police officers understand the situation. They ask if you'd like to press charges on Tom Norris, that's the thief's name according to his ID. Considering you're not hurt, you decline on pressing charges. The police are gone with the thief sooner than you expected.

"Can I treat you lunch for your trouble? Shoot! A super late lunch?" You corrected after checking your watch.

"Hey, don't worry, it's no trouble at all," Danny says to you with a big smile.

"No, no, seriously. You guys were on holiday, I guess. But still bothered to help me. Lunch is the least I can do."

Before long, they arrange to get a table for five and talk a lot during the meal.

◢◤

"So you guys are from Hawaii? That's nice!" You tell the family.

"See, Danno? That's what you're supposed to say about Hawaii. You're the only one who describes Hawaii as a pineapple-infested hell hole," laments Steve to his husband.

"I'm just telling the truth, babe. How about you, Y/N? Where are you from?" Danny tries to find out.

"Originally from The Netherlands, Amsterdam. But I moved to Chicago last year," You reply.

"Now that, Steve, is a city that would appreciate seasonal changes," Danny nods his approval of Chicago.

"Only you, Danno, who whines about constant sunshine." Steve grumbles.

Grace and Charlie don't react much to their parents' bickering. Too used to their silliness. But you still find it quite funny.

"So you guys are here for vacation?" You ask the family.

"Kind of. We are on holiday. Also, we are visiting the colleges here for Grace, who will graduate high school next year," Steve throws his right arm around Grace's shoulder.

"Yes, we are on an excursion to prove to Grace that LA universities are not better than the University of Hawaii," Danny quips from Steve's left.

Grace whines at his father, "Danno..."

"Danny here doesn't want his children to be far away from him," Steve enlightens you. "But I think going to school in LA would be better than The Netherlands. Wouldn't it, babe?" Steve winks at Grace.

"Do not joke about that, Steven!" Danny elbows his husband hard.

Grace looks thoughtful for a moment, "Y/N, did you go to college in the Netherlands? What do you think my chance to study there?"

"Gracie, can I come with you to This Otherlands?" Charlie innocently chirps to his sister.

Steve is laughing so loud, even after Danny punches his arm.

"What about you, Y/N? What are you doing in LA? Are you on vacation too?" Danny questions you after the laughter receded.

"I'm here for work. Most of the time, I'd do it remotely from Chicago. But sometimes I have to make the trip here or to Amsterdam," You tell them.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a music producer," You give a simple answer.

"What instruments do you play?" Steve is curious. "Guitar?"

"Mostly piano and synthesizer. I do play guitar, but I'm just an okay guitar player. I wish I could play better,"

"Dad plays guitar too!" Charlie happily declares as he points at Steve.

You cheer at Charlie's enthusiasm, "Does he? That's great!"

"Yeah, he plays very well. Maybe Dad can teach you to play better," Charlie directs you.

"Oh, yes, that would be awesome," You wholeheartedly agree with Charlie, as the rest of the table laughing at the idea of Steve teaches music.

◢◤

"Danny, I was wondering if you could explain something to me," You turn to the man.

"Shoot," Danny nods as he puts down his juice glass.

"The arm lock that you did to the thief. Where did you learn that? Did Steve teach you that?" You ask him, genuinely want to know.

"Well, even though Steve here was the Navy SEAL," Danny glares at his husband, who replies with a smirk, "I have been working as a cop for more than 20 years now. I know some moves too,"

"But that's not a cop's move," You contradict him.

"How do you know any cop's moves?" Danny confronts you back.

"My boyfriend is a cop in Chicago," You give Danny a sheepish smile.

"Ah, I see. Did your boyfriend teach you self-defense?"

"He did. I'm nowhere near good as Jay. But it's a start," You answer Danny.

"Of course. If he's not good at it, then he's not a good cop," Danny comments without sounding too arrogant.

"Jay also taught me about guns. Personally, I don't like it, but he needs me to know about it, especially gun safety. So..." You shrug.

Danny nods his understanding, "Yeah. Be glad that he doesn't bring home grenades or other explosives," Danny gives Steve a stink eye. "Unlike some Super!SEAL here,"

Steve is immune to that look. It doesn't seem to affect him anymore.

You smile at their interaction, "Jay was an Army Ranger. After he came back, he went to Police Academy,"

"Really?" Steve looks interested.

"Oh, here we go," Danny sighs at his husband.

Steve grins but decides not to comment on it any further. He goes praising Danny instead.

"But Danny is being too modest here. He is a great fighter. Sometimes he's even better than me. Which lots of people find it surprising, considering I was a SEAL,"

"and don't you forget it, babe," Danny smirks at Steve, who returns it with a chaste kiss.

You sigh internally. Looking at the lovely couple made you miss your boyfriend, Jay.

"In all seriousness," Danny begins, "I practiced Jiu-Jitsu since high school. That's where the moves come from," He pauses to sip on his drink.

"I got my Blue Belt when I entered The Police Academy. For me, I think, I learned how to fight better in Jiu-Jitsu than what they taught us there," Danny continues.

"Do you also teach it to Grace and Charlie?" You ask the parents.

"Yeah. Danny taught them both as early as possible. Grace already got her Yellow Belt when we first met. Now she is working for her Purple Belt," Steve brags. Danny also looks so proud. Grace, though, tries so hard not to roll her eyes at her parents.

"Me too! I will get my Yellow Belt soon! Right, Danno?" Charlie exclaims.

"Of course you are kiddo. After that, you surely can beat your Dad here," Danny ruffles Charlie's hair. Steve offers his palm for a high five, but Charlie punches it instead. He giggles when Steve is faking to be hurt by Charlie's tiny fist.

"Do you think I could learn it too?" You inquire to Danny.

Danny and Steve look at each other. You're waiting for their answer, hoping that they will agree.

Before they decide anything, Grace interrupts, "We can go check out the place that Sensei Egan told us, Danno."

"Yeah, that's a great idea," Steve agrees to his daughter's suggestion. "We can check that dojo for Grace, meeting the instructor. Maybe could show some moves too for y/n,"

"Okay then. Grace, share the dojo address with y/n. We can meet you there tomorrow morning, what do you say, y/n?" Danny asks you.

You're supposed to fly back to Chicago next afternoon, but what the hell, you are very interested in this offer. "Yes, sure. If you don't mind me crashing your holiday plan again?"

"No, not at all. We need to check out that place anyway." Steve waves off your worry.

Grace passes her phone to you. "You can puy your number there. I will forward you the address,"

You tap your number to Grace's phone before groaning when you remember that your phone is dead. "Could you e-mail me instead? I don't think I could replace my phone soon,"

Danny doesn't even try to hold his laugh at your poor luck.

◢◤

The next day, you take an Uber to the gym. No, it's The Dojo. You correct yourself. When you step in, Charlie is shouting at you from across the room. "Y/N!" Standing next to his sister, Charlie crazily waves at you, worried that you could not see him.

You remove your shoes, placed them accordingly at the remarked spot. Walking towards Charlie and Grace, you see the Williams-McGarrett clan wear similar outfits with other people in The Dojo. The only differences between them are their belts. Danny wears a Black Belt with a red stripe, while Steve wears a Brown Belt. Grace has Blue Belt, and Charlie has a White one. Knowing that you will do some workout, you wear a black t-shirt and training pants. Definitely a contrast in a room full of jiu-jitsu outfits.

Danny and Steve are talking to a guy on the other side of the room. This guy has a Black Belt with more stripes than Danny's, indicating that he is the instructor here.

"Hey, guys. Good morning," You greet Grace and Charlie. They reply with a big smile.

"Just out of interest, do you guys always bring your uniform on your holiday?" You gesture to Grace's clothes.

Grace laughs at your question, "It is called Gi. Yes, we are always bringing them along on holiday," She laughs again at your shocked face. "No, I'm joking. It's because we know we will visit this dojo, so we have our Gi with us,"

Soon Danny and Steve come over to your side. "Hi, y/n. So I talked to Sensei Marcus there," Danny gestures to the guy he spoke to. "We are going to follow their training for today. You can watch from the side if you're not sure you want to do it. The first hour would be the class for Kids and Teens,"

You see Grace and Charlie lining up in the center of the room with other children. They seem to be divided by belts instead of age.

"The next hour would be the adult class," Danny pauses for a moment. "If you want my suggestion, I encourage you to join the Teens class. I hope you don't feel insulted by that."

You chuckle at his words, "Not at all. I understand,"

"If it's too much, don't hesitate to stop and move aside. Everyone will understand," Steve adds.

You exhale softly, readying yourself, "Okay," before joining the line.

The first fifteen minutes, they start with stretching. So far, you have no problems with it. You practice Yoga for the last few years. You know how to stretch.

The next one, they teach you how to fall correctly. Which turns out to be a hard thing to do. At first, an instructor's assistant helps you. After a few moments, she moves away to help others. But you're still not doing it right. So Danny pulls you aside and teaches you privately for the rest of the hour.

You fall so many times until it tired you out. You cannot even get up from the mat. Your shoulders would have been bruised with so many times you landed incorrectly.

"Still interested to learn this?" Danny grabs your hand to help you get up.

Even though the lesson exhausts you, you feel great. You learn a lot, even from doing the same thing over and over again. "Hell yeah!" You grin at Danny.

"Crazy woman!" Danny pats your shoulders. Right where it hurts the most. You can't help but flinch away.

"Hurt, wasn't it? Why don't you go sit down on the outside of the mat with Charlie?"

Charlie sits on one side of the mat, a bottle of water in his hand. He is watching Grace, who has her hands on Steve's Gi, trying to throw Steve down.

Danny silently pays attention to his husband and daughter on the mat. But you can see his hands slightly move as if he's the one sparring.

Shortly, Grace has a chance to push Steve. Steve lost his balance for a moment before countering her attack. Grace would've fallen down hard if Steve didn't hanging to Grace's Gi so tight to slow her fall.

"That's great, Grace," Steve says to his daughter as he helps her up. They bow to each other to end the spar. Danny is clapping from outside the mat, "Good job, Monkey,"

Of course, you and Charlie follow Danny's example to cheer for Grace.

You still sit on the side of the mat, now also accompanied by Grace. You watch the next class practice, where Danny and Steve spar with other students for about an hour.

After the class is done, Steve taps on Danny's shoulder, "Danny, could you help me with this move?" He nods in the direction of the mat.

Danny responds with rolling eyes at his husband's antics.

Grace runs commentary in the background, "Dad didn't actually need help from Danno. However, you're not allowed to ask a higher belt to spar with. It's a sign of disrespect. But Dad and Danno often work differently between each other,"

You see Danny and Steve taking place at a ready position. It takes time before anybody falls, or one locks each other. They move fluidly. When one throws the other, they quickly bring them down along then keep them in a lock. The locks are soon countered, and they back up again. The great thing is they look like they enjoy sparring with each other. They share a laugh whenever someone throws the other or someone holds the other in a lock. You find that very interesting.

The sparring ends when Danny makes a grappling move that Steve cannot counter, so he has to tap out.

After the sparring, Steve sits back with you and his kids while Danny goes over to Sensei Marcus. Steve asks your opinion about Jiu-Jitsu, whether you're still interested to learn it.

"Very much, yeah. The first thing I will do once I'm back in Chicago is to find a Dojo," You excitedly tell Steve.

"Well, lucky for you, Sensei Marcus here knows a lot of Jiu-Jitsu instructors," All of a sudden, Danny joins your conversation. Sensei Marcus stands beside him.

"Sure, if you want to keep learning Jiu-Jitsu, I will give you some references of my fellows in Chicago," Marcus informs you.

"That would be awesome!"

Marcus shakes your hand, "Good luck!" and moves to shake hands with the rest of the Williams-McGarrett family. "Thanks for visiting our dojo. Please come again whenever you're in LA,"

They all look tired, but their smiles beam as bright as Hawaiian sunshine.

◢◤

Two weeks later, in Chicago,

You see your boyfriend's truck parked in front of your house as you walk home from the bus stop. You walk much slower than you used to. Your body is hurting all over the place, but you feel elated.

The day after you came home from Los Angeles, Jay was caught in a hard case. He had to fly out to New York and liaised with NYPD SVU to solve it.

You missed him a lot, for sure. Jay called you whenever he could for these past two weeks. Texted you every day too. But you have not got the chance to tell Jay about your new interest in Jiu-Jitsu.

After your last trip to LA, you promptly checked out the Dojo that Sensei Marcus referred to you. You were thrilled to find out that it's only fifteen minutes bus ride from your house.

You met with one of the instructors there and asked for a private class. Because that's what Danny advised you to do. "After you have a better understanding of the lessons, then I want you to go train with other people at the dojo. But for the first five or six months, you might've been better with one-on-one lessons,"

The instructor, Professor Louisa, is delighted to provide. You work on a schedule three to four times a week. The professor initially suggested only two meets in a week. But considering your occasional trip abroad for work, you prefer to do more lessons when you're in town.

This is the third week you've been learning jiu-jitsu in Chicago. Scraps and bruises are inevitable. Jay would freak out if he saw them before you could explain to him.

Jay's flight back from New York landed about two hours ago. He must've been coming directly to your place from the O'Hare. The house smells amazing when you enter the room. Following your nose leads you to the kitchen. You find your boyfriend pulling out what seems to be garlic bread from the oven, "Hey, babe. You're back!"

"Hey, you! Perfect timing!" Jay secures the tray aside before stepping closer to you. He puts one hand on your waist, the other one on your back. Moving even closer to kiss you.

His passion makes you forget your bruises for a moment. When Jay pushes you playfully, your shoulder hits the nearest wall. You instantly cry out in pain. "Argh!"

"What's wrong?" Jay stops everything he's doing to you right away.

"Nothing, I just got some bruises," You rub the pain from your shoulder.

"How come?" Jay begins to take off your t-shirt to check on the bruises, but you move away from his grasp.

"Hold on. Let me take a shower. I must've been rank from sweat. Then I'll tell you everything," You kiss Jay one more time before going to the bedroom.

As you eat the pasta primavera that Jay made, you ask him about his case in New York, "How was it?"

"It's done. We did what we have to do,"

Not interested in talking about his case, Jay interrogates you instead, "So, where did you get the bruise? I swear, I only left the city for two weeks, and you're already in trouble," Jay shakes his head.

"I'm not! I just joined this gym. Dojo, I meant. I'm taking Jiu-Jitsu lessons!" You cheerfully tell Jay.

"You what?" Jay pauses from drinking his wine.

So you told Jay the whole story. About how someone tried to snatch your phone when you're in LA. How you met the Williams-McGarrett family from Hawaii. How they got you into jiu-jitsu.

"It's so fun, Jay. Yeah, sure, I got bruises and scraps. But whenever I got stuck with my work, I go have a practice at the dojo, and then I come home feeling energized," You confess to your boyfriend.

"Really?" Jay looks at you, disbelieving.

"Uhuh," You nod as you swallow your spaghetti. "You know what, you should come and see the dojo. It might interest you too,"

"I know about martial arts, babe. I taught you how to punch, remember?" Jay reminds you.

"Yes, you did," You say in giggles, "Professor Louisa said she won't teach me how to punch,"

"Of course, Jiu-jitsu has a different approach than other martial art, say karate. Or boxing," Jay puts down his fork on the empty plate. "You sure you enjoy it?"

You hold Jay's hand and look into his eyes, "I am. This is something I want to do seriously, Jay. I admit part of it comes from you and your job. Like you always said, I need to be able to defend myself. Because you think I could get drag into your case one day,"

Jay puts his other hand on top of yours, looking somehow regretful, "Babe..."

"No, no. But I also do this for myself. Even though my body hurts, I feel great about myself. I feel more confident. It's really inspiring,"

Jay brings your hand to his lips, "Okay then, as long as you're happy with it. But I'm still going to take you to the gun range,"

You roll your eyes in response, "Of course, you will,"

◢◤

A week later, Jay walks up to The Dojo on the second floor. Someone greets him at the entrance, "Hey, man. Can I help you?"

"I suppose to pick up my girlfriend. She is training with..." Jay tries to remember the instructor's name. "Louisa?"

"Ah, yes, Professor Louisa. You must be y/n's boyfriend. I'm Professor Andy, the head of this dojo," The man offers his hand.

"Jay Halstead," Jay shakes Andy's hand.

"I think she will finish in ten minutes. You wanna see her practice?"

"Sure. If it would not be disturbing?" Jay hesitates.

"Not at all. Y/n is the only one in there right now," Andy directs Jay inside the dojo. He asks Jay to remove his shoes before stepping into the room.

Jay watches his girlfriend silently. He winces a couple times when you fall down. But he is amazed to see you immediately stand up again.

"She's resilient, your woman is,"

Jay chuckles at Andy's remark, "Yes, she is,"

Shortly after you bow to your instructor, you see Jay standing on the side with Professor Andy.

You walk towards them with a smile, "I see you met my boyfriend, Prof,"

"I did, yeah," Andy nods. "I don't think Jay would be interested in jiu-jitsu, though," He comments.

"Correction, I'm not interested to see you got thrown down repeatedly," Jay points out.

"Hey!" You hit Jay's arms as both Professors laugh at you.

"But that's how we are supposed to learn. If you don't know how to fall, you won't get back up again," Louisa says serenely.

Andy hums his agreement before ushering you out. "Alright, get out of here, you lovebird,"

When you're in the locker room, changing your Gi, Jay approaches Andy again. But before Jay could say anything, Andy hands a leaflet to him.

"Y/N told me you're a police officer. You might be interested in these classes,"

Jay takes it with a laugh, "Thanks, man. I'll check it out," He puts the leaflet on his jacket pocket and pulls out his card.

"If anything happens when Y/N is here. Or if you need anything I can help with, please give me a call," Jay sounds solemn.

Andy takes the card, "Don't worry, man. We take good care of our students here,"

"I know," Jay nods.

Soon you come out with a gym bag on your shoulder. "See you next week, Prof!"

Andy waves to the couple, "Bye, y/n. See you again, Jay!"

◢◤

Two years later,

You step out of the record store in Pilsen empty-handed, failing to find the vinyl you're looking for. You start walking west to the bus stop when you hear a commotion ahead.

You see a guy pushing people out of his way. He keeps looking behind his back like he's running from something.

"Police! Get out of the way!" You hear other voices shouting.

So this guy seems to be running from the police, you thought to yourself.

The man tries to shove you aside, but your reflex is much better. Your hands instantly grab the front of his shirt. When he tries to push you away, your right foot finds his inner left calf and sweeps him down.

When he tries to move away from your grasp, you lean down and grip his right wrist tightly with your right hand. You put your right elbow beside his right ear while your left elbow is placed underneath his elbow. Your left-hand moves to hold your right wrist from below his right hand. His arm is essentially locked when your left bicep snugs against his right tricep. You raise your elbow slightly from the surface. The more he wiggles his way out, the higher you raise his elbow from the surface, the more painful the lock is.

You hear an impressed whistle from above. When you look up, you find Jay and Hailey standing in front of you. Jay gets a huge grin on his face while Hailey is sporting a shocked look.

"Nice takedown, babe," Jay compliments you.

"Thanks. You might wanna take over from here, though," You say to your boyfriend as you hear few more steps rushing towards you.

You loosen the lock after you are sure Jay gets his hand on the perp. He grabs the suspect up from the floor and pushes him towards the wall.

You find a hand extends in front of your face, offering to help you stand up. You look up to see it was Hailey. You take her hand with a soft thanks.

Once you're back on your feet, you look around to see the other members of the Intelligence Unit staring at you. Adam, Kim, and Kevin are mirroring Hailey's initial look of surprise. Jay's boss, Hank Voight, looks impassive as always. But you catch an amused twitch at one corner of his lips.

"Man, at least give me time to feel my hand again! That bitch could break my arm, you know!" you hear the perp complaining when Jay prepares to cuff him.

Without saying anything in response, Jay folds the perp's wrist inside. The perp yells even louder because of the wristlock.

Kevin moves to take the man away from Jay before any further damage could happen. He ushers the perp right away to a nearby cop car.

Jay turns to check on his girlfriend, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." You nod back at him.

"I didn't know you could do that, Y/N," Hailey tells you. "You never tell me that your girlfriend practiced any martial arts," She continues to slap Jay's shoulder.

You answer with a sheepish smile, "It's kinda new,"

"Blue Belt in Jiu-Jitsu is not "kinda new" babe," Jay elbows you playfully.

The team boss pats your shoulder once before walking back to his car, "Good job, Y/LN,"

Kim, who's partnered up with Voight today, quickly follows. But not before inviting you for drinks, "You have to tell me all about this over drinks!"

"See? Even Voight agrees. We'll make a cop-out of you soon, Y/N," Adam offers his fistbump to you.

You meet his with your fistbump but shake your head, laughing, "Not in a million years, Ruzek,"

He only replies with his laugh and walks towards Kevin and the perp.

Jay puts his arm around your shoulders with a huge smile, "C'mon, Kev and Ruz can take care of the perp for a while. Hailey and I will drop you home."

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me 💖💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy! 

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him. 

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape. 

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking. 

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands. 

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red. 

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love. 

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt. 

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment. 

He nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly. 

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain. 

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier. 

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window. 

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared. 

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything. 

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After. 

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

.

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

[purrsonaimagines]

i love ryuji requests sm... he’s literally my overall favorite. tysm for asking! and unless specified in my bio, requests are always open!! ryuji brain rot time :)

-

The amount of nights you’d be up late, staring at your bed tiredly, were endless. Where the sheets wrinkled, and your arms rested. The lack of warmth in that spot made your stomach churn, as you feared the worst for your lover.

He was a Phantom Thief, and the amount of times he’d come home with that small limp in his step, or an arm on his sore shoulder.. You worried. Anyone would, right? What if one day he gets worse than a sore muscle, what if he wasn’t able to be patched up. What if he never even got the chance to say goodbye, or speak to you one last time—

Knock Knock

You jolted under the sheets and looked around in shock, before hurrying over to the door. You assumed it was your guardian, but when you saw the familiar yellow tee you were shocked.

“Ryu—“

Thump.

“—Ji...?”

Your hands wrapped around the still teen who rested his head on your shoulder, taking deep but slow breaths. Your right hand shifted to his hair, lightly threading through the blonde spikes on his head.

“Are you okay, ‘Yuji..?” You mumbled softly to him in concern, stiffening when he lifted his head to reveal his soft stare.

“Better now.. Sorry about that, I needed a second.” He admitted looking down, avoiding your concerned stare.

“Hey, don’t apologize for being vulnerable.” You chastised lightly, kissing his cheek.

“Was it a rough day?” You asked, stepping back. As you gave him space, you already shifted to your bed and laid down lifting the sheets for him to join.

Steadily he slid under too, laying in front of you with a dejected frown.

“I just.. I dunno. I feel like I’m not doin’ good with this Phantom Thief gig.” Ryuji huffed, shrugging his shoulders.

“Whys that?”

“Akira’s the leader... Anns cunning, Makoto is the brains, Futaba’s our tech wiz, and Haru is the kind one. Yusuke is talented as hell, and super strong.. Morgana is our guide in the metaverse, and as much as I hate the guy.. Akechi is super good too.”

“So where does that leave me..?” He finished in a soft voice, causing your heart to drop.

“Oh, babe...” You cooed, grabbing his cheeks with your hands.

“Don’t compare yourself so much to them, it’s.. not healthy.” You whispered, shaking your head.

“As a Phantom Thief you don’t need to have unspoken skills. If anything, you describing everyone just proved your point wrong.”

“How..?”

“You’re observant, and brave,” you started kissing his lips lightly, “and you’re caring, and considerate.”

“You’re fast, and athletic. Plus you’re charming. Ryuji, you should be glad you aren’t just the smart guy, or the leader... Because you’re all of them in one.”

“You’re so busy focusing on everyone else you never noticed, but... You’re the glue. You keep them running, and happy and motivated. Because in a sense, you’re all a mix of their traits you idolize.” You explained, combing your hands through his hair.

“I-I am...?” He stuttered out, eyes wide in surprise.

“Heh.. Yeah.. I guess I am...” He reaized, thinking back with a shy smile.

“See? It feels nice to step back and realize, all your adoring traits. I mean, think about all the people who’ve idolized you at some point.”

“I don’t think anyone really has, babe.” He admitted with a bashful chuckle.

“I have.” You admitfed with a tender smile, causing Ryuji to look up in shock.

“Y-You?! But you’re perfect? You’re literally my dream.. Why would you idolize my personality traits like that..?”

“Because, you inspire me. You make me want to fight for change, and grow as a person. You have helped me grow as a person, actually.” You elaborated, your laugh causing your shoulders to bounce.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Ryuji said with an adoring stare, causing your face to warm up.

“You have, but... I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” You said with a teasing grin, causing Ryuji to let out a breath.

He gently pressed his lips your nose, before moving to your lips. He pressed multiple quick, rapid pecks to them with a wide smile as his arms looped around you

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Ryuji repeated each kiss, causing a giggle to escape your lips

“‘Yuji! C’mon.” You laughed, teasingly nudging him as he tugged back.

“I mean it, babe. I love you so much, to the moon and back. Thank you for making me feel better tonight.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your hair.

“It’s my job. You’d do the same for me, love. Just remember I’m always here, alright honey?”

“Always.. Now let’s get some sleep... Promised Akira I’d meet up with him at the shop.”

“Mmm, really?” You whined, giving him a look.

“You can come with, if you want.” He offered looping his hand with yours as he drew you closer.

“That sounds nice, yeah okay.. Let’s get to bed, Ryuji.”

“Sounds like a plan... Goodnight, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ryuji.”

-

I hope this was okay! It actually helped me get outta my writing stump! Thank you so much for requesting! 💖

[auncyen]

chasing dumb ideas from work lol

-

Ren’s Palace takes the form of a video game world, bright and zany.  The Shadows have their silhouettes color-coded according to difficulty, the cognitions are NPCs repeating stock dialogue--Mona pops up surprisingly often, considering he and Ren haven’t really hung out since May--and some of the logic used to progress is worthy of a click-and-point game.  Which means it’s lucky they have Futaba with them, since she’s the only Phantom Thief who understands the logic of click-and-point games.  Still, it’s such a breeze that it takes only three hours to reach the center of the stage, and Oracle complains they never even left the hand-holding tutorial.

Ren’s shadow smiles at them when they arrive, and hands Ryuji a controller for the P4Storm his parents took away from him and sold after his arrest.  “Wait--is this the Treasure?” Ryuji blurts.  “We didn’t give you a calling card, though.”

“Hmm...we did talk with him about what he thought the distortion might be, though,” Futaba muses.  “He’s the NPC who knows the most about our methods, so that might have accidentally triggered the effect.  Good thing we moved fast.”

The shadow nods at Futaba’s explanation.  “I didn’t want to give you guys too much trouble.  You’re my friends, after all.”

“Dude, you gave us no trouble at all,” Ryuji says with a laugh.  “You’re way too nice for your own good!”  Still, in this case, he’s relieved it’s not coming to a fight.  Ren’s a friend, and he hasn’t seemed all there lately--they might have curbstomped his shadow if it’d come to that, and wouldn’t that feel awful.

Ren’s shadow smiles shyly, and waves them off before disappearing in bright light.  The PT make their usual escape.  The Palace crumbles.

So does the controller in Ryuji’s hands.

-

Despite the alarm the crumbling treasure causes for the entire group, Ren seems to take his change of heart just fine, doesn’t even throw himself a week-long slumber party like Futaba did.  He stays home from school one day, Futaba reporting that he seems a bit sleepy but nothing too serious, and then the next day, Ren gives Ryuji a fist-bump and smile outside Shujin.  Ryuji grins and tackles him into a headlock.  He’s so glad the change of heart didn’t hurt Ren.  Ren’s his best friend.  The Phantom Thieves might have given Ryuji a reason to stay at Shujin and not drop out, but Ren’s pretty much an honorary Thief anyway, and he’s been running with Ryuji, and helping him deal with the track team’s problems, and he’s just so good at knowing exactly what to say to make people feel better.  Ryuji’s thrilled he could help Ren for once.

And then, days later, he gets a text from Makoto during class, which he knows is urgent because Makoto texting during class: “Ren is still logged in the MetaNav on my phone for some reason.  The location and distortion have been erased, but his name is still there.  Is anyone else seeing this?”

Yusuke starts typing.  Futaba and Ann chime in well before him that yes, they see it too.  Ryuji opens the Metanav on his phone.  Ren’s name is glaring on the screen, a partially-complete entry that shouldn’t be there at all.

“Class was that bad?” Ren asks when Ryuji trudges out of his classroom, prompting the blond to immediately shove the phone in his pocket.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryuji mutters.  “Hey, Ren, can we talk about the--uh--you-know-what?”

“The completely unsuspicious you-know-what, yes, what about it?” Ren answers, because oh good the change of heart gave him his sarcasm back.  Actually--that would be good news.  It means the change of heart worked and the Metanav’s got some random glitch.  “Let’s get off school grounds first.” 

Ryuji manages to only jump a little when his phone buzzes.

When he checks, the Metanav has accepted “school” as the distortion’s location, even though the Palace was actually at the scramble in Shibuya and, more importantly, doesn’t exist any longer.

They go to Leblanc, where Shiho and Futaba are both waiting to talk to Ren as well, which helps Ryuji with the conversation ahead.  It’s...kind of hard to muddle through ‘hey, we were trying to help you with your heart, but something might have gone wrong and we don’t know what’.  It both helps and doesn’t that Ren stays calm the entire time, doesn’t get worried or pissed off that they might have screwed up.  Wouldn’t a distorted person get mad?  Wouldn’t a normal person at least be nervous?

Then again, Ren’s always had nerves of steel underneath the nerdy glasses.  It never made sense to Ryuji why he didn’t awaken to a Persona when Ryuji and Ann and Shiho all could, not until they found his Palace.  He’s got the guts for it.

Futaba openly prods Ren on how he views the school, and he shakes his head.  “This must be a glitch.  You guys have already helped me.  I feel better, and everyone else has only needed their heart changed once.  Why would I be different?”

Shiho purses her lips but then agrees.  Ryuji feels a little antsy, wants to push but also wants to trust Ren, and even if the change of heart didn’t work for some reason, his friend is pushing back now.  Ren’s not hurting anyone.  His heart is his call just like Futaba’s was hers, and even the hacker, for all her curiosity, respects that.  They gotta drop it.

But it stays on the back of Ryuji’s mind for weeks as the entry stays in place, 2/3s complete, and everyone else is worried too because they all like Ren and something does seem a little off about him--like he’s trying too hard to be normal, to convince them everything is fine--and then apparently one morning, right before class starts, Ren startles Ann by leaning over her shoulder and drily reciting: “Ren Amamiya, Shujin Academy, theater”.

The keywords work, Ren supplying them is taken as an implicit request, and there’s a good chance their calling card timer is already running just like the first time, since Ren knows how they work after tagging along for most of the first Palace and helping them with supplies for later ones.  So they go.

-

Ren’s second Palace is a theater.  It’s completely different from the video game world, with dark, muted, traditional colors, yet unmistakably Ren’s, and Makoto has to get their navigators back on task several times because Morgana and Futaba are going nuts theorizing (because who has a second Palace to begin with?).  Luckily Shiho doesn’t have much trouble leading the group through anyway.  Once again, Ren’s Palace is weirdly easy.  The Shadows aren’t color-coded any longer, but they also don’t seem to care about the Thieves as long as they don’t interrupt the show on stage.  It’s...an improv show, Ryuji thinks?  Yusuke says it might be an avant garde direction on a play.  (Ryuji has no idea what the difference would be.)  What happens is Ren’s shadow is always acting, and sometimes a cognitive audience member will leave their seat and join him.  All of the Thieves are there, even Morgana, which the cat seems touched by, plus Mishima, and Ms. Kawakami, and Ms. Chouno, and Ryuji is about to question why Ren has the hots for so many teachers when Ushimaru gets up and that thought becomes cursed, and the newspaper club girl, and that cute gardening club girl, and actually, Ryuji still thinks Ren has some kind of bias for hot girls going on here.  Even if the (former) stalker girl is pushing it.

That’s probably nothing to do with the Palace distortion though, since Ren’s interactions are always a simple back-and-forth with the cognition: they request something of him, even if it’s just to talk, and Ren obliges them admirably, or sometimes he acts as though he’s ignoring them at first, only to swoop in at the last second and give them something even better than they asked for.  It’s interesting maybe the first couple times?  Morgana stands out again because his cognition nags Ren to study and make infiltration tools, something Morgana says he’s never done, which makes sense because Ren is one of those aggravating people who never needs to study to ace exams and Shiho’s always made the infiltration tools just fine.   After Morgana, though, it just falls into a predictable pattern, and the only reason to keep watching is to see who else comes up to stage.  And once cognitive guest stars start repeating, the Thieves are out.  Every improv act has been slightly different, but the flow is so obvious that it’s become mind-numbingly repetitive anyway.

They sneak past security into the back halls and find a dressing room.  Futaba and Morgana both detect the Treasure inside.  There’s a white-and-black domino mask sitting on a vanity in a dark corner of the room that both navigators swear up and down has to be the Treasure.  It almost seems appropriate for a Thief mask.  Maybe because Ren’s seen most of the team’s?  It fits the theater setting, at least, but...

“Are we just...taking this?” Ann questions, with an uncertain look around the dressing room.  “Seriously?  His Shadow’s not even going to talk to us?”

“I would not complain about us being proper thieves and going undetected for once,” Yusuke points out.

“Okay, point, but it just...feels like I understand Ren less than I did before the video game place.”  Ann sighs.  “I thought he was just a quiet guy, but he saw part of Tokyo as a game?  Now he’s acting with everyone at school?  I wish I got what it actually meant...”

“We can ask him about it later,” Shiho reassures her.  “Right now we just have to take the Treasure.”

That suits Ryuji.  They take it.  The Palace collapses.

The mask crumbles in Shiho’s hands as soon as they reach the real world, and she makes a small noise of distress.  Morgana and Ryuji spit out the same curse in a rare moment of heartfelt unity.  Futaba, on the other hand, just whips out her phone.  “Hey-hey,” their navigator says, “Guess who doesn’t want to leave the Metanav?”

-

Ren is sympathetic with his thief friends not being able to steal a Treasure, which feels wildly inappropriate to Ryuji because it’s Ren’s heart in question here.  Ryuji thinks in his shoes, he’d be losing his mind.  Ryuji’s in his own shoes and he’s still losing his mind a little, because the only answer the group can come up with for what’s going on is that Ren’s somehow got three distortions.

No, sorry.  It’s that he has at least three.  Three may not be the magic number.  Ren doesn’t seem to think it is, anyway, because now he puts down his foot.  “I’m not hurting anyone.  I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you weren’t even down for a day like last time,” Futaba mutters, giving him such a suspicious look that Shiho nudges the girl.  Ren is their friend, and he’s been helping them be Phantom Thieves.  They’ve got no good reason to antagonize him.

Ren gives her a long, silent look before shaking his head.  “You guys should be figuring out your next target.”

They should be.

They do.

Ren helps them less with supplies this time.  Ryuji wonders if it’s because of the distortion, and then he catches himself and realizes he’s been wondering if everything with Ren is because of a distortion or not.  It’s probably not even Ren’s fault.  They’re just not talking to him about Thief business as much, since...yeah.  The only upshot might be that Morgana has been making some effort to get to know Ren better.  Because Morgana was a jerk when they first found him--he’s still a jerk sometimes, but even Ryuji would say he’s gotten a lot better--and he pretty much brushed Ren off in favor of people who were actually awakening to Personas, like everyone else.  They never really argued or anything, though, and apparently judging by Ren’s Palace...s, Ren’s fond of him, and Morgana seems to have finally realized that sometimes, making friends is its own reward, even if they can’t wield kickass Personas.  So that’s a thing, now, Shiho passing Morgana off to Ren so they can trot off and do whatever people do together when one of them is a cat (apparently watch movies, get food, fish, and just talk).

And that’s why when Morgana says “I think I know Ren’s keywords” at the start of a Phantom Thieves meeting, Ryuji blurts out “I thought you stopped being an asshole” with a disappointment so deep that it kind of surprises him, because, wow, he really had been expecting that Morgana was just trying to be nice and not obsessed about Palaces and Treasures for once, huh?

Morgana blinks at him across the table.  “I have never been an asshole,” he says, outright lying.  “Though there are a few things I could say about you--”

“Morgana,” Shiho says, heading off that argument.  She looks upset, too.  “We don’t have any reason to pursue Ren’s Treasure.  He’s not hurting anyone.  He...seems to be doing all right,” though the hesitation is audible in her voice, and quickly followed with, “and even if he isn’t, it’s his heart.  You’re not getting a unanimous vote here, and if this is why you’ve been friendlier to him lately, I... don’t know what to say, except that I thought you were better than that.”

There are two Phantom Thieves who can scold Morgana and actually make him feel ashamed: Ann and Shiho.  Sure enough, she lands a critical hit; Morgana’s ears pin back, and he nearly ducks down under the table to escape her stare before stopping himself.  “I’m not asking for a vote,” Morgana says.  “If we took his treasure it’d probably just crumble again.  But I want to check if I’m right about the keywords.  It could be critical information.”

There is a long moment of silence.   As much as Ryuji’s still pissed off at Morgana, he can’t deny being curious.  If they at least knew the keywords, even if they didn’t go in, they’d understand Ren better, right?  Though...after how the last two distortions went...

As it turns in, they go in anyway, because Makoto taps on her phone to open the Metanav, places it in front of Morgana, and when he utters “Tokyo, Metaverse,” the app responds “beginning navigation”, and--

“Fascinating,” Yusuke says.

“That’s not the f-word I’d use,” Ryuji says.

“Huh, Kaneshiro’s Palace is here,” Morgana notes, because that is indeed an effing bank flying through the sky, narrowly avoiding a blimp.  The cat continues getting down to business despite the absurdity of the situation he just launched everyone into.  “That means both that he’s seen it, and that his mental map of the Metaverse isn’t accurate.  It might be based on his most recent memory?  We never brought him in the bank, though.  What do you think, Or--”  He stops when he actually turns to Futaba and sees her face.  She’s paler than usual.  “...Oracle?  Are you okay?”

“My Palace is there,” she says, pointing in the direction where Yongen Jaya would lie.  The golden tip of a pyramid gleams over dozens of other riotously colorful, stylistically mishmashed buildings.  “How does he know what my Palace looked like?  How does he know about any of these?  There’s at least two hundred--maybe three!”

Three hundred palaces is a stupid number of Palaces for anyone to personally remember, but it’s especially stupid for a guy who doesn’t even have the Nav on his phone.

-

the idea: “if persona users simultaneously having a Palace can be justified with wildcards having multiple personas (for one to turn into a shadow while the others remain to use), what kind of shitshow would Ren create if all his Personas just--” and then ng+ shenanigans wandered in

[aquietwritingcorner]

Writers Month Day 13: Night/Flowershop/tattooshop AU Word Count: 4236 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: Vato Falman, Olivier Mira Armstrong, Major Miles, Captain Buccaneer, Doc, Neil Warning: NA Summary: Vato Falman works at a quiet, little (run-down) flowershop next to a tattoo parlor. He never expected to nor wanted to meet the owners of said tattoo parlor. But typically whatever Falman doesn’t want is exactly what he gets. Notes: Because if this was going to happen to anyone, it would happen to Falman! AO3 || ff.net

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 Night/Flowershop/Tattoshop AU

 When Vato Falman took the job at North City Flowers, it was with a few understandings. One, he wouldn’t bore the customers with talk of what the flowers mean. Two, he would have to work nights sometimes. Three, he wouldn’t have to interact with the proprietors or customers of the tattoo parlor. Four, this job was in a run-down part of town and awful, so he would be surreptitiously looking for another job in the meantime.

North City Flowers was located in a part of the city (not named North City, ironically enough. Apparently, it had been part of a failed chain of flower shops from North City, and no one had ever bothered to change the name) that was not considered the best part of town. During the day people watched themselves closely. During the night people scurried from place to place as quickly as they could, and only if they had to go out—which few people ever wanted to. In fact, Falman had been certain that he was going to be jumped in the first few weeks of work.

It wouldn’t be too bad, if his boss would just pitch in. His boss was a greasy looking man who clearly didn’t want to be here nights either. Every day before the sun set, he’d make sure Falman was there, take most of the money from the register, and leave. Falman, no matter how much he didn’t want to, was left pretty much every night to finish the day, clean up, and lock up. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t like he could quit. If he didn’t need this job, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Next door to North City Flowers was the Briggs Tattoo Parlor. Falman had never been inside and had no plans to. He had seen the owners, though. A big, strong man who looked like he could crush Vato just by thinking about it; a tall, Ishvalan man, who seemed unreadable; and the beautiful, blonde woman whose glance looked and felt like ice. They were each terrifying on their own, but together they were more so. Sometimes another woman was there, with short hair and glasses, and while she looked friendlier, she didn’t look like someone to cross either. Falman had no idea what to make of the guy with the cigarette and the loud shirts that often came, usually with grease somewhere on him. The clientele wasn’t much better. Most consisted of a lot of men who looked like they were not people to cross—and Falman had no intentions of doing so.

(They didn’t seem to accept just anyone, though. He had watched them kick out a man dressed in a white suit once, in a very rough fight. There had been a lot of shouting, but he had decided that he was probably better off in the back, and so hid there for a bit, supposedly cleaning it up.)

The Briggs Tattoo Parlor seemed to do a lot of work at night. In the evenings, when Falman was cleaning up, he often heard loud thumps coming from the other side of the wall, and yelling. Sometimes there was music as well. Falman had no idea what was going on over there, but he had decided long ago it was in his best interests not to find out.

And so, Falman lived out his workdays like this. Helping customers pick out bouquets that sent the wrong message, staying late at night in the shop, searching for another job, and avoiding the Briggs crew next door.

Until tonight.

The night started out like any other. He helped the customers, his boss took the money, and Falman was left to clean and close up. The days were getting shorter, which meant it got dark quite a bit earlier. Falman always tried to clean up as quickly as he could, figuring that the less time spent here at night the better, but today had been busy, and there was quite a mess in the back room. It took him a few hours to clean it all up, and by the time he did, it was already much later than he wanted it to be.

With a put-upon sigh, Falman gathered up the garbage, tied it up, and headed out the back to throw it away. There was a dumpster in the alley behind this row of shops, and he headed out to it, moving quickly, hoping to not draw any trouble.

This meant, of course, that he did.

He was just past the back of the Briggs Tattoo Parlor when out of nowhere he was grabbed, pushed up against a wall, and a knife pressed to his throat.

“Gimme all your money,” a voice sneered in his ear.

Falman paled. “I-I-I don’t have any!” he stammered out.

“Don’t gimmie that crap,” the man said. “Gimmie your wallet.”

“I don’t—I left it in the shop!” Falman said.

“Yeah? Then let’s go back to the shop and get it and whatever money is there, flower boy.”

Falman paled more. Either this man saw him coming out of the shop, or he had been casing it out for a few days, at least. “Th-there’s nothing there! My boss—he takes the money when he leaves!”

The pressure on Falman increased and the knife pressed harder on his neck. “I think you’re just making excuses,” the man growled. “Guess I gotta show you I’m serious!”

Before Falman could even start to panic to that, the man was suddenly gone, pulled back with a squawk. Falman, startled, turned to look.

The big man from the tattoo shop had Falman’s assailant by the collar, pulling him back and up. “What do we have here?” he asked.

The Ishvalan man stepped up. “It looks like we caught a thief.” His face was impassive, eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Falman wondered how he saw with the night this dark.

“I’d say so too,” the big man said, giving the thief a shake. The man tried to protest, but the big man brought him closer. “Bold of him to try on our turf.”

“Perhaps we should take him inside,” the Ishvalan said. “We can let her deal with him.”

Falman saw real fear break out on the thief’s face. “No!” He still had his knife and brought it up quickly. The big man didn’t let go but intercepted it with his other arm. Falman cringed at that, but the man didn’t seem to even notice. He just grinned a feral grin.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he said.

The thief looked thoroughly freaked out, and the Ishvalan took a step closer and jerked the thief’s jacket down, looking at something on his arm. He slid his glasses off to reveal his piercing, hard, red eyes.

“Tell your bosses not to come near Briggs again. This is our territory, and we protect it. Understand?”

The thief nodded, and the big man let him go. The thief scrambled back and away from them, and towards the edge of the alley. The two had already started turning around, when the thief apparently gained one more moment of courage. Falman saw him reach into his belt and pull something out. His eyes widened as he realized it was another knife, and he was about to rush the two men.

“Look out!” Falman called out and, quite without thinking about it, flung the garbage bag full of flower stems and leaves and various other plant-parts that he still somehow had in his hand, right at the thief. The thief saw it coming and ducked, just in time for it to hit a man that was coming up behind him and knock him to the ground mid-stride The thief cursed and scrambled away, leaving the four other men in the alley.

“What the—what was that all about?” The man who had been knocked down was the one with the loud shirts that came to the tattoo parlor. He was sitting up, pushing the bag of trash off of him. “Why did I just get smacked in the face with a garbage bag?”

“Nice save,” the big man said to Falman. “Thanks.”

“Are you alright?” the Ishvlan asked him.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” the man in the loud shirt said. The other two ignored him.

“I…um… yes?” Falman said.

The two men glanced at each other. “Why don’t we get you back inside,” the Ishvalan said. “Buc—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got Neil,” the big man said.

Falman, still quite shaken up, just nodded, and followed the Ishvalan. He only realized that he hadn’t meant the flowershop when he opened up the door to the tattoo parlor. Falman, not sure what else to do, entered nervously.

It was a surprisingly clean and well-organized back room, well-lit and seeming quite pleasant. The Ishvalan man escorted him through it, and into the main room. It was well lit, with several chairs that looked like they could fold down into beds each contained in a small cubicle like area with tools and equipment, and lots and lots of art and examples of tattoos hanging on the wall.

The blonde woman sat in one of the chairs, while talking to the short haired lady that sometimes came by, who was sitting on a couch in the waiting area. Both looked up at the entrance, and both frowned at Falman. He broke out in another sweat.

“What’s this?” the blonde woman said. “Miles?”

“We ran into a little trouble out back,” he said. “Buccaneer’s collecting Neil.”

“Was he hurt?” the short haired woman asked.

The Ishvalan—Miles, apparently—shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He nodded his head at Falman. “He threw a garbage bag and hit Neil in the face and knocked him down.”

The blonde woman raised an eyebrow and looked at him. Falman thought he might pass out. “He did what?” she asked.

Falman parted his lips, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. “I didn’t mean to” and “it was an accident” didn’t seem like they’d be acceptable to this woman.

“Actually,” Miles said. “It was in defense of us.” The woman clearly wanted more, so he continued. “On our way back from getting Neil, we saw this man getting robbed in the back alley. We stepped in and stopped it, and, after a warning message to take back to his bosses, we let him go. He apparently didn’t give up, though, and must have done something. This man yelled a warning at us and threw the bag of garbage he had. The robber ducked, and Neil happened around the corner at the time. It smacked him in the face instead.”

“Kid had a knife,” the big man—Buccaneer, Falman guessed--said, coming in with the man Falman presumed to be Neil. “And was trying to turn back on us. At least, that’s what the shop across the street says.” He looked over at Falman. “He saved us some trouble, it seems.”

“He stabbed you in the arm!” Falman blurted out and was a bit embarrassed that it was the first thing he said.

Both women looked at him alarmed, and the short haired one rose from the couch to hurry over to him, taking his arm—the wrong arm, Falman noted, and wondered why she had picked that one.

“Aw, Doc, you don’t have to worry,” Buccaneer said. “It wasn’t that arm.”

“Wait—your other arm got stabbed? Let me see,” Neil demanded.

“It’s fine. If it can’t hold up to that—” Buccaneer started.

“Let me see anyway,” Neil insisted.

“You had better have him look, just in case,” the blonde woman said.

Buccaneer sighed, but let himself be guided over to a chair, shedding his coat on the way. Falman blinked in surprise when an automail arm was revealed. That certainly explained a lot.

“You,” Falman jumped when the woman addressed him. “Let Doc look over you as well.”

“Oh—no, I’m, um, I’m fine, really, and I, um—”

“Uh-uh,” the other woman, Doc, said, and gently bullied him into a chair. “Let me check you over, free of charge!” she said with a grin.

“Do you usually charge?” Falman asked.

“When I’m at the clinic I do. Gotta make a living somehow. And usually whenever I’m called over here.”

Falman wondered how often that was, but he was distracted by the sound of Miles and the woman talking.

“—had a Drachma tattoo, General.”

“They’re getting bold. We’re going to have to prove it to them again.”

“I know.”

“General?” Falman murmured under his breath.

Doc must have heard him, because she responded. “Yep. That’s what she’s called around here. But that’s because she’s earned it, to be honest.”

Falman wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he said nothing.

The woman—Doc was all he learned of her name—was quick and efficient, and told him that he wouldn’t have anything to worry about, except maybe some residual soreness. He was taken from there back out into the waiting area of the tattoo parlor, where the others had gathered and some sort of drink was being passed around. He felt it would be rude to refuse, so he took a cup and, after he finished it and thanked them for helping him again, he went back to the flower shop to finish locking up. Buccaneer went with him, just in case, and asked Falman some questions about the shop and the flowers while Falman worked. He seemed genuinely interested in learning about the flowers, and Falman gladly shared his information. Not long afterwards, he locked up and headed home, bidding a farewell and thanks to Buccaneer.

The next day Falman said nothing to his boss, and his boss didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. But, on one of his breaks, Falman used what flowers he could to make a bouquet of thanks and delivered it next door. The general was busy with a customer, but Miles took them and put them in a vase where they could be seen.

After that, odd things began happening. There was an uptick in traffic in the flowershop. Men were coming in for various bouquets, usually wanting Falman to fulfill their order. More than once Buccaneer dropped by with some lunch for Falman, or Miles with some coffee. After the General dropped in, they received a few orders from some fairly well-off individuals.

Odd things also were happening with Falman. He usually waved to the Briggs artists, but he somehow often found himself over there at night, hanging out with them after he had locked up. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but it did. He learned that the Briggs Crew—as they called themselves—kept watch over this neighborhood. They weren’t quite a gang in the traditional sense, but they did keep a group called Drachma out of the place. Drachma wasn’t happy about it, but facing down the General wasn’t a good idea, it seemed. Most of the stores and businesses around either knew about this and were grateful, or, as Falman had been, had no idea. The Briggs Crew didn’t care either way. All they wanted to do was keep their area safe.

The crew seemed to consist of the tattoo artists, the doctors and nurses from Doc’s clinic, the mechanic shop across the street, the automail shop next door to the mechanic’s shop, A restaurant called “the cafeteria” that served awful food but somehow stayed in business, an electronics repair shop, a delivery service, a gym that had some pretty intense training, and several individuals who’s places of work weren’t affiliated in any way.

And somehow, for some reason, Falman had been adopted into them. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be, and wasn’t even sure it was a good thing, if he were honest with himself. But they seemed like decent people who just wanted to keep their neighborhood safe, so he went along with it.

It wasn’t until some months later that he had to prove his loyalty.

Falman was on his way home one night when it happened. He was walking down the sidewalk, nearing the edge of the neighborhood when he thought he heard voices. Not wanting to deal with a confrontation, he slowed, and listened in.

“—can’t let her keep bullying us around like this.”

“Yeah. The boss said we’re gonna make a move. Specifically, on her.”

“On the General herself?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty bold. What’s the plan?”

“We cased it out. She usually sends her two right hands home before she goes. That Ishvalan, he heads out sooner, and the bear, he usually sticks around. But about once a month he leaves a little earlier. She’s alone then.”

“Not totally. Someone usually comes by.”.

“Right. That’s why we’re part of the distraction.”

“Distraction?”

“Yeah. All over. It’ll stop anyone from getting there. And that’s when she gets taken out. She’s gone, and then it either all falls apart, or they go crazy and end up getting arrested.”

There were murmurs from the group, and Falman, who had stopped, slowly began to back away. Unfortunately, he was so caught up in what he had just heard that he neglected to see the garbage can behind him and ran into it. It fell with a clatter, and Falman froze, his eyes widening. He could hear the talking stop and then—

“Hey! Who’s there?”

“Ice ‘em!”

Falman bolted.

Falman liked to think of himself as being fairly in shape. He wasn’t going to win any contests or anything, but he could hold his own, generally speaking. But with his slim physique and prematurely gray hair, most people underestimated him, which he was fine with. He didn’t usually set out to impress. However, tonight he wished he were in better shape, and he could only hope that he was underestimated. Shouts followed him, and he was half sure he saw a couple of guns being pulled out. He veered into a side road, heard shots, and knew he was right.

Heart pounding, Falman zigzagged between the streets and alleys, hoping to lose his pursuers. It and out and around he went, until he finally found a hidden area to duck into. He hid there a moment, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath.

He had to tell them. He had to let them know. He had to make sure that the Briggs Crew knew a set up was coming for the General, a plot to kill her.

But… was he brave enough?

He hadn’t meant to be involved in this in the first place. He could just walk away, call the police, let them deal with it. He could have nothing to do with this, just like he should have since the beginning.

But the whole reason the Briggs Crew was a thing was because the police weren’t doing their jobs. The police wouldn’t interfere. And could Falman really walk away knowing about a plot to kill someone and not doing anything about it?

No. No, he couldn’t.

His breathing had calmed, and he was less winded than before. Looking around carefully he slipped out of his hiding place. He had to go back to the tattoo parlor and warn them.

“Hey, Flowerman.”

A voice from behind him spooked Falman, and he whirled around. A man stood there, not far from him, knife in hand and smiling at him. It took Falman a moment to place him as the guy who had tried to mug him a few months back. Falman took a nervous step back.

“Remember me?” the man said. “I think it’s time I got that money from you.”

The man lunged at him, but Falman jumped back, putting himself out of the man’s reach. The man lunged again, and Falman retreated once more. He glanced back behind himself nervously. There was another exit to this alleyway, but it was covered in junk and trash. Still, it might be his only escape. The man lunged again, and Falman backed up once more. Again and again, until Falman was close enough to the trash that was piled up—parts of boxes and crates and full trash bags—that he could feel how unsteady the whole pile was.

Which, actually, gave him an idea.

It was a terrible idea, but it was an idea.

The man lunged again, and Falman had no where to go but forward. He twisted his body so that, hopefully, he could avoid the knife, or at least avoid the worst of it, but he pulled on the stacked garbage as he did, yanking it hard and bringing it crashing down on the man. He wasn’t sure exactly what he felt in his side—could be the knife, could be some debris—but he wasn’t about to let that slow him down. He pulled himself out of the edge of the pile of trash, put a hand to his side, and sped on as fast as he could manage. He ducked in and out of alleyways, doors, and any place he could hide, until he finally was throwing himself against the front door of the tattoo shop. Startled heads whipped up to see him. He was relieved to see that both Miles and Buccaneer were still here, and his relief made his knees week. Miles opened the door, practically catching Falman in his arms.

“Falman?” both the General and Buccaneer were looking at him alarmed. “Buccaneer, go get Doc!” she ordered.

“No!” Falman gasped out. “No, wait! I have to tell you—” He paused as he tried to catch his breath the concern of the three didn’t fade. “I heard… heard a plot… they’re gonna wait for a night when you’re alone, General. Then they’re… they’re going to cause disruptions and keep you alone… and then they’ll kill you. Drachma that is. I heard it!”

He still hadn’t gotten his breath back yet, and his knees felt like they were growing weaker. Was the fading adrenaline affecting him that much?

“Had to tell you…”

“Alright, easy, cub,” Buccaneer said, easing towards him. “You told us. We’ll be prepared. Now let us take care of you.”

“Huh?” Falman looked down, and suddenly realized that it might not be relief that was making him weak at the knees. It might be blood loss. “…Oh.” He suddenly felt very weak and felt himself slipping more towards the floor.

“Buccaneer. Pick him up. We’ve got to get him to Doc now,” The General said. “Miles, after we get him there, start the alert. No one is to go anywhere alone. Be on the lookout. Use our contacts.”

Miles nodded. “Right, General.”

Buccaneer came over and took a hold of Falman, lifting him up. Once he was secured, the four of them set on their way to Doc’s which wasn’t busy this time of night. As they moved, the General looked over at him.

“Thank you,” she said.

Falman didn’t have time to say more before they were heading into Doc’s clinic, and she was taking over, issuing orders and clearing people away. Falman actually wasn’t that sure of how long he was under her care, but Doc fussed at him about how even shallow stab wounds could kill and needed to be treated properly even as she cleaned him up, stitched him up, and laid him back with a unit of blood. She left him resting with the remote to a small TV in the corner. He had spent about thirty minutes in there when the door opened again. Falman looked over at it.

The General walked in a book in her hands and a stern look on her face. Falman looked at her nervously.

“You risked your life for me tonight,” she said without preamble.

“I, uh, I think they were going to kill me either way,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You could have gone to the police.” She pointed out.

Falman shook his head. “They wouldn’t have done anything about it. There’s a reason they’re not here much.”

She nodded, “You’re right. Still, you risked your life tonight for mine—and for all of Briggs. That isn’t something I take lightly.” She put the book on his lap, and Falman had the distinct impression that, if it hadn’t been for Doc, she would have thrown it at him. “You’ve proved yourself,” she said. “When you find one you want, it’s free of charge and by my hand.”

Curious, Falman abandoned the remote and opened the book. It was a sample of dozens of different kinds of bear paw tattoos. He blinked at it, then looked back up at her.

“If I do this, does this mean I’m part of a gang?”

She laughed. “No more or less than a biker gang.” He wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not. “Pick one or don’t—it’s of little consequence to me. But just know, you’re in. You’re Briggs.”

With that she turned and walked out of the small room, leaving Falman there with the book. He looked down at it. How had he, a man who worked in a flower shop, ended up involved in all of this?

Well, there was no turning back now.

Grinning to himself, Falman opened the book to pick out his bear paw tattoo.

[fiadhulresims]

All outfit descriptions for Annabeth Chase

hi i'm weird so i decided to reread all of the books in which annabeth appears to transcript all the times her clothes and items are described.

i hope this can help someone out there in some way, like drawing her!

Observation: I might have skipped something

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

The Lightning Thief

“From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring.”

“The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.”

“Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.”

“Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve.”

“Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens.”

“Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads.”

“A few minutes later she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, obviously stuffed with more goodies.”

“Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts.

‘That pine-tree bead’, I said. ‘Is that from your first year?’

She looked. She hadn’t realized what she was doing.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year’s bead. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress — now that was a weird summer...’

‘And the college ring is your father's?’

‘That's none of your —‘ She stopped herself. ‘Yeah. Yeah, it is.’

‘You don’t have to tell me.’

‘No... it's okay.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn’t have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her...’”

“At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads (...) The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.”

The Sea of Monsters

“She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bandanna.”

“She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she’d just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts.”

“She was wearing a sleeveless silk dress like C.C.'s, only white. Her blond hair was newly washed and combed and braided with gold. Worst of all, she was wearing makeup, which I never thought Annabeth would be caught dead in.”

“She undid the golden braids in her hair.”

“‘S'okay,’ I grunted, though I'd never really wanted to know what Annabeth’s sneaker tasted like.”

“One grabbed Annabeth and Grover by their T-shirt collars.”

The Titan's Curse

“Her blond hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean.”

“She used to wear no jewelry except for her Camp Half-Blood bead necklace, but now she wore little silver earrings shaped like owls — the symbol of her mother, Athena. She pulled off her ski cap, and her long blond hair tumbled down her shoulders.”

“I thought of some harsh things to say, and I might've said them too, but then I looked down and saw something navy blue lying in the snow at my feet. Annabeth's New York Yankees baseball cap.”

The Battle of the Labyrinth

“She was wearing jeans and an orange camp T-shirt and her clay bead necklace. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.”

“He slung a leather satchel off his back, unzipped it, and produced a sleek silver laptop computer — one of the ones I'd seen in the workshop. On the lid was the blue symbol ∆.”

The Last Olympian

“It's not that she tried to look good. We'd been doing so many combat missions lately, she hardly brushed her curly blond hair anymore, and she didn't care what clothes she was wearing — usually the same old orange camp T-shirt and jeans, and once in a while her bronze armor.”

“He brought out a bronze shield and passed it to Annabeth. It looked pretty much standard issue — the same kind of round shield we always used in capture the flag. But when Annabeth set it on the ground, the reflection on the polished metal changed from sky and buildings to the Statue of Liberty — which wasn't anywhere near us.

‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘A video shield.’”

“My brain started seizing on little random details, like the fact that she was still wearing those silver owl earrings from her dad, who was this brainiac military history professor in San Francisco.”

“She wore her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange because that should have made her invisible.”

“She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder — ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.”

“The girl had tangled blond hair and was wearing flannel pajamas.”

“Annabeth was wearing new clothes — jeans and an oversize army jacket.”

“She had pulled her owl helmet low over her face, but I could tell her eyes were red.”

“Kronos whirled to face her and slashed with Backbiter, but somehow Annabeth caught the strike on her dagger hilt.”

The Demigod Files: Percy Jackson and the Bronze Dragon

“She bumped me with her shoulder, which I guess was supposed to be friendly, but she was wearing full greek armor, so it kind of hurt. Her gray eyes sparkled under her helmet. Her blond ponytail curled around one shoulder. It was hard for anyone to look cute in combat armor, but Annabeth pulled it off.”

The Demigod Files

The Heroes of Olympus

The Lost Hero

“Two teenagers stood in the chariot — a tall blond girl maybe a little older than Jason, and a bulky dude with a shaved head and a face like a pile of bricks. They both wore jeans and orange T-shirts, with shields tossed over their backs. The girl leaped off before the chariot had even finished moving. She pulled a knife and ran toward Jason's group while the bulky dude was reining in the horses.”

The Mark of Athena

“She took out her camp necklace, strung with her dad’s college ring and a colorful clay bead for each year at Camp Half-Blood. Now there was something else on the leather cord: a red coral pendant Percy had given her when they had started dating. He'd brought it from his father's palace at the bottom of the sea.”

The House of Hades

“She'd tied her blonde hair back with a strip of denim torn from her jeans, and in the fiery light of the river her grey eyes flickered. Despite being beat-up, sooty and dressed like a homeless person, she looked great to Percy.”

“In his massive hand, the white shard looked like another toothpick, but when he offered it to Annabeth she realized it was a sword – a blade of dragon bone, honed to a deadly edge, with a simple grip of leather.”

The Blood of Olympus

“Piper and Annabeth were disguised as lovely Greek serving maidens. Even in their white sleeveless gowns and laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating the rocky path.”

“She looked uncomfortable in her serving-maiden outfit. She kept hunching her shoulders to keep the dress from slipping. Her pinned-up blonde bun had come undone in the back and her hair dangled like long spider legs.”

“Annabeth slung her own amphora off her shoulder. She, too, had a concealed sword, but even without a visible weapon she looked deadly.”

“Annabeth re-adjusted her golden belt.”

“She ripped through her supply pouch and unwrapped a piece of godly food.”

“She fingered the red coral pendant on her necklace – a gift from Percy when they started dating.”

The Demigod Diaries: The Diary of Luke Castellan

“As soon as I lifted the sheet of tin, something flew at me — a blur of flannel and blond hair.”

“Her ribs were bony under her flannel pijamas”

The Demigod Diaries: The Staff of Hermes

“She was wearing her regular orange camp T-shirt and shorts, but her tan arms and legs seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her blond hair swept over her shoulders. Around her neck hung a leather cord with colorful beads from our demigod training camp — Camp Half-Blood.”

“She wore a dark green sleeveless dress that showed off her long blond hair and her slim athletic figure. Her camp necklace had been replaced by a string of gray pearls that matched her eyes.”

Demigods and Magicians

The Staff of Serapis

“At the moment, her most deadly weapon was her backpack, which was loaded with heavy architecture books from the public library.”

“She pulled out something she hadn’t carried with her in a long time: her battered blue New York Yankees cap”

The Crown of Ptolemy

“I'd never actually seen her wearing her Yankees cap before, since she vanished every time she put it on, but there she was — wide-eyed with surprise, caught in the act of sneaking up on Setne.”

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard

The Sword of Summer

“She was dressed more sensibly in snow boots, jeans and a parka, with an orange T-shirt peeking out at the neckline.”

“She was better dressed than me — orange North Face ski jacket, black jeans, lace-up winter boots — but if people saw us together they would've mistaken us for brother and sister.”

The Hammer of Thor

“Annabeth was there before me, standing on the platform in jeans and sandals and a long-sleeved purple shirt with a laurel-wreath design and the letters SPQR: UNR.”

“Her blond hair was loose around her shoulders today. She seemed to be growing it out.”

The Ship of the Dead

“Her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her dark blue T-shirt was emblazoned with the yellow words COLLEGE OF ENVIRONMENTAL DESIGN, UC BERKELEY.”

[alison-anonymous]

what the hair?! ♡ varian

What the Hair ♡ Varian Imagine

Requested: noootttt exactllyyy, but @technolilly gave me the idea. Darling, if you're reading this, let me know what you think!!! 😉😁

Warnings: lovestruck Varian😍

Summary: basically the first episode of the Tangled series, but I weaved the reader in and tweaked a couple things!

♡♡♡

Your life was incredibly complicated.

Like seriously, if someone were to give out an award for Most Complicated Life, you would win the title, hands-down. 

You were Y/n L/n, daughter of the infamous L/ns, or, as they are better known among the criminals as, the Kingdom Snatchers. Not a very creative name, but then again, their title was given to them by the puny-minded brains of burglars, thieves, and murderers. Your parents were villains who would weave their way into a perfect kingdom with the perfect Queen and King, and take over their kingdom before they reached dessert. They would murder the real Queens and Kings, imprison the citizens, and then leave the kingdom in ashes. They were driven to practical insanity from their corrupted, power-loving minds and became known and feared in all of the lands. Wanted posters littered the forests, offering generous amounts for their capture. But of course, anyone who tried to get close to them ended up dead.

And of course, after they had you, they tried to teach you their ways to become a Kingdom Snatcher so you could take over once they got old and withered. You were supposed to become a vicious, kniving, power hungry, and insane mass murderer/dictator/whatever the hell you want to call it.

There was only one problem.

You didn't want to be the bad guy.

Of course, your parents were furious. If you weren't willing to become an evil thief like them, then of what use were you to them? To have the ability to watch you grow up, living a happy and healthy life, making them proud that their daughter was able to find her own source of happiness in life? Ha! Your parents were killers! If you didn't want to join them, they might as well kill you and keep trying until one of their kids decided they loved the evil life.

And so, you did the only thing you really could do.

You ran away. You were only 7, hardly a child.

And as time went on, you learned how to fend for yourself against the treacherous ways of the world. You were alone for most of your life. And after a while, you began to fear that it might just stay that way. Until you met a certain blonde princess with seven feet of hair, and everything changed.  

♡♡♡

It was a bright, shiny morning; a morning that Rapunzel would fall in love with. You were out looking for the certain blonde herself, and lucky you to have found her sitting next to the fountain with her favorite Lady in Waiting.

“I was thinking about your hair,” Cassandra said as you walked up to them, pressing your hands on Rapunzel’s shoulders. She gave you her signature bright grin and motioned for you to join them. “Maybe we can find a way to get some answers discreetly, just us.”

“Ooh, mischievous,” you giggled. “I like it.”

Rapunzel nodded and leaned her head on your shoulder. “I mean, I still think you’re being a bit unfair about the Eugene thing, but what do you have in mind?” 

Cassandra’s features grew a little more excited as she used hand gestures. “Well, I’ve heard stories about this guy named Varian. Apparently, he’s some kind of wizard.” 

Your eyes raised slightly at the sound of his name. Varian... where had you heard of him before? Probably from some of the little off-their-rocker villagers. Rapunzel seemed pretty excited too as she clapped her hands together like a giddy child. “Wow! A real wizard? Like with a pointy hat and casting spells and stuff?” 

You couldn’t help but snort. “Those only exist in fairy tales. My money says he’s selling something. Probably laxatives.” 

Cassandra did her best to hide her laugh, but was still smiling as she continued. “No, girls we have to be careful. Very little is known about him and what is isn’t that good. He’s dangerous.”

“But if we want answers, he’s our best bet right?” Cass nodded. 

“Looks like we have a wizard to visit!”

♡♡♡

It didn’t take long to make it to Varian’s house, which was in Old Corona. The house looked simple enough, had it not been for the dark and foreboding feeling that apparently only existed in Rapunzel’s brain as the three of you approached the door. It was actually a quaint little thing, simple colors, no broken boards or cobwebs, and was decently larger than the other houses you had passed by.

“It looks nice,” Rapunzel spoke nervously. “In an I-wish-I-said-goodbye-to-my-loved-ones-before-I-left sort of way.”

Cassandra pushed open the door just before you could warn them about the importance of knocking and you all proceeded into the dimly lit house. The shadows seemed to crawl towards you as you help up the caboose of the line, Cass leading the way through the halls of the house until you finally pushed through a door surrounded by some very suspicious looking fog. 

“Geez, I guess those laxatives must really be working,” you joked as you propelled yourself through the cool mist. It passed through the soft fabric of your pants and your combat boots as Cassandra pushed open the door revealing yet another dimly-lit room covered in fog. Who was this guy? Just as you were about to speak, Cassandra’s boot made contact with some sort of string on the ground, triggering a myriad of complicated reactions that ultimately ended up with some sort of magenta ball being launched at your feet. You let out a shriek as it exploded into a goopy substance, gluing your feet to the ground. The three of you struggled to get yourselves free.

“A booby trap? Really?” Rapunzel grunted. 

“Everything’s going to be fine, Raps, we just need to-” Suddenly a very scary, very robotic looking figure emerged from the shadows. Your heart began to pound faster inside your vest-covered chest as your eyes widened in terror. 

“W-who... is...that?” You could barely muster as the figure got closer. Two, electric yellow orbs were all that you could see as Rapunzel held an arm out protectively in front of you. 

“What do you want?” The voice boomed throughout the halls, striking terror into your heart. Your mouth fell open as you stared, slight PTSD forming from all of the moments you spent witnessing your parents torture innocent people. 

“U-um, hi, sir, I really hate to bother you, but I was just wondering if I could get your help about my hair,” Rapunzel did her best to hide her stutter. “Because you’re such a magic exper-”

“Magic?” The metal laxative man robotically asked. “I do not work with magic!” He suddenly lifted the helmet off of his head to reveal someone a hell of a lot less intimidating and, dare you say, kind of... insanely cute. “I mean, technically, it’s alchemy but...” He drawled off the moment he laid his adorable blue orbs on you. It was almost as if though he had gotten lost in a trance as his eyes looked over every inch of you before finally resting on your face once again, a twinkle in his eyes that, the more you looked at it, reminded you of the way Eugene looked at Rapunzel. 

A little butterfly flew around in your stomach. 

“Um, hate to interrupt, but um what is this stuff?” Rapunzel awkwardly chuckled, breaking whatever just happened between you and this supposed “Varian.” Your cheeks held a tinge of pink to them as he quickly regained his composure, a bit of a blush to his own as well.

“Oh! Um, this is a chemical compound of my own design. We have a little bit of a beautiful- I MEAN critter problem,” he chuckled, glancing at you as he pulled out the “neutralizing particle” and sprinkled it over all of your guys’s feet. You watched with an amazed expression as the compound instantly dissipated before your eyes. Varian smirked slightly at your reaction. 

“I am so, so sorry, Your Highness.” He bowed to Rapunzel. 

“Your Highness?” Rapunzel asked in confusion. “You know who I am?”

“How could I not? Look at your hair!” He suddenly realized the error in his exaggeration and quickly apologized. God, how could one person contain to much adorableness?

...Wait, what?

“Rapunzel is just fine,” Raps smiled at him. “And this is Cassandra, and Y/n.” Cass gave him a firm nod and you offered him a polite smile. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.

“Y/n... okay! Anyway, so fantastical stories about your hair have spread throughout Corona. Most people think that it’s magic, but as you’ve probably learned by now, I don’t believe that.” You couldn’t help but smile at his boldness, the pride that he took in his work. He seemed to have something that you only wished you could have: pride. 

“Listen kid, we’re kind of in a hurry here, but let’s just get one thing straight here. Everything that happens here stays here, you got-”

“I don’t think we need to threaten him, Cass,” you quickly removed her hand from Varian’s shirt and gave her a reassuring smile. “He seems pretty harmless. Right?”

He quickly nodded his head, like a love struck puppy as he stared at you. After figuring out that Rapunzel’s hair no longer held its fantastical healing properties, Varian stuck her in a machine that he apparently made himself to determine the entire chemical makeup of any substance. 

“Woah,” you breathed as you stared at the great machine. “This is... amazing, you built this yourself?”

“Y-You think so?” Varian giggled, a bright crimson tinting his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I did.”

“It’s incredible.”

“You’re incredible.”

“What?”

“What?” You were both staring at each other with wide eyes until you finally started giggling. 

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, shaking your head slightly and turning back to watch as the machine tried taking an axe to her hair. Little did you know that he was still staring at you the entire time. Time seemed to practically fly by as Eugene came in and then a bunch of Varian’s underground machines suddenly became radioactive or something. Cass and you went out to find him and before you knew it, Old Corona was in near ashes. 

You slowly approached Varian after his father had talked to him, and by the looks of it, it hadn’t gone well. You stopped when you were just behind him, trying to debate whether or not you should put your hand on his shoulder. 

“Varian...” You began, but stopped, trying to form the right words in your brain. He turned to look at you and instantly became flustered once again.

“Y/n, I am so, so sorry for this, I swear that I-” 

“It’s okay, Varian,” you assured him, flashing him a smile and tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “I mess up too. But that doesn’t mean that we’re any less amazing.” 

A small smile grew onto his lips at your words and he let out a soft chuckle. A short, comfortable silence fell between you two as you stared into one another’s eyes until he broke it. “Hey... I know we just met, but would you want to... umm... hang out sometime?”

“I’d love that,” You couldn’t help but grin.

♡ a.a.

[maulthots]

Read in July (1/2)

Alice by Christina Henry  Category: Has a one-word title In a warren of crumbling buildings and desperate people called the Old City, there stands a hospital with cinderblock walls which echo the screams of the poor souls inside. In the hospital, there is a woman. Her hair, once blond, hangs in tangles down her back. She doesn’t remember why she’s in such a terrible place. Just a tea party long ago, and long ears, and blood…Then, one night, a fire at the hospital gives the woman a chance to escape, tumbling out of the hole that imprisoned her, leaving her free to uncover the truth about what happened to her all those years ago. Only something else has escaped with her. Something dark. Something powerful. And to find the truth, she will have to track this beast to the very heart of the Old City, where the rabbit waits for his Alice. ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner Category: Something that makes you feel good The king's scholar, the magus, believes he knows the site of an ancient treasure. To attain it for his king, he needs a skillful thief, and he selects Gen from the king's prison. The magus is interested only in the thief's abilities. What Gen is interested in is anyone's guess. Their journey toward the treasure is both dangerous and difficult, lightened only imperceptibly by the tales they tell of the old gods and goddesses. ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Bird Box by Josh Malerman Category: Listen to an audiobook Something is out there, something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse of it, and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from. Five years after it began, a handful of scattered survivors remains, including Malorie and her two young children. Living in an abandoned house near the river, she has dreamed of fleeing to a place where they might be safe. Now that the boy and girl are four, it's time to go, but the journey ahead will be terrifying: twenty miles downriver in a rowboat—blindfolded—with nothing to rely on but her wits and the children's trained ears. One wrong choice and they will die. Something is following them all the while, but is it man, animal, or monster? Engulfed in darkness, surrounded by sounds both familiar and frightening, Malorie embarks on a harrowing odyssey—a trip that takes her into an unseen world and back into the past, to the companions who once saved her. Under the guidance of the stalwart Tom, a motley group of strangers banded together against the unseen terror, creating order from the chaos. But when supplies ran low, they were forced to venture outside—and confront the ultimate question: in a world gone mad, who can really be trusted? ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 

If They Come for Us by Fatimah Asghar Category: Something from Adult Non-Fiction in the 800s Poet and co-creator of the Emmy-nominated web series "Brown Girls" captures the experience of being a Pakistani Muslim woman in contemporary America, while exploring identity, violence, and healing. In this powerful and imaginative debut poetry collection, Fatimah Asghar nakedly captures the experiences of being a young Pakistani Muslim woman in America by braiding together personal and marginalized people's histories. After being orphaned as a young girl, Asghar grapples with coming-of-age as a woman without the guidance of a mother, questions of sexuality and race, and navigating a world that put a target on her back. Asghar's poems at once bear anguish, joy, vulnerability, and compassion, while exploring the many facets of violence: how it persists within us, how it is inherited across generations, and how it manifests in our relationships with friends and family, and in our own understanding of identity. Using experimental forms and a mix of lyrical and brash language, Asghar confronts her own understanding of identity and place and belonging. ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Red Queen by Christina Henry Category: Has a color in the title The land outside of the Old City was supposed to be green, lush, hopeful. A place where Alice could finally rest, no longer the plaything of the Rabbit, the pawn of Cheshire, or the prey of the Jabberwocky. But the verdant fields are nothing but ash—and hope is nowhere to be found. Still, Alice and Hatcher are on a mission to find his daughter, a quest they will not forsake even as it takes them deep into the clutches of the mad White Queen and her goblin or into the realm of the twisted and cruel Black King. The pieces are set and the game has already begun. Each move brings Alice closer to her destiny. But, to win, she will need to harness her newfound abilities and ally herself with someone even more powerful—the mysterious and vengeful Red Queen... ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah Category: Autobiography The memoir of one man’s coming-of-age, set during the twilight of apartheid and the tumultuous days of freedom that followed. Trevor Noah’s unlikely path from apartheid South Africa to the desk of The Daily Show began with a criminal act: his birth. Trevor was born to a white Swiss father and a black Xhosa mother at a time when such a union was punishable by five years in prison. Living proof of his parents’ indiscretion, Trevor was kept mostly indoors for the earliest years of his life, bound by the extreme and often absurd measures his mother took to hide him from a government that could, at any moment, steal him away. Finally liberated by the end of South Africa’s tyrannical white rule, Trevor and his mother set forth on a grand adventure, living openly and freely and embracing the opportunities won by a centuries-long struggle. Born a Crime is the story of a mischievous young boy who grows into a restless young man as he struggles to find himself in a world where he was never supposed to exist. It is also the story of that young man’s relationship with his fearless, rebellious, and fervently religious mother—his teammate, a woman determined to save her son from the cycle of poverty, violence, and abuse that would ultimately threaten her own life. ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

[new-tella-us]

The Child

Alright! This is a story I’m currently making on Archive Of Our Own. I might as well try to promote the story here.

If you wanna see past Chapter 1 (I’ve done 3 chapters) click the link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550474/chapters/67383730

It was just another normal day; well... as normal as it can be. The group was sitting in the cafeteria, just waiting; waiting for Teruteru and Hajime to finish cooking. As the Ultimate Cooks, they often insist on cooking. Today though, they’re taking a bit longer than usual. The group wasn’t particularly worried but, it did get their attention.

“I wonder what’s taking Hajime-chan and Teruteru-chan so long” Ibuki mentioned.

“Maybe they are preparing a feast for us” Sonia said.

As if on cue, the cooks finally reappeared in the cafeteria with food in hands. A very normal amount of food. So that eliminates Sonia’s suggestion.

“My apologizes for the delay, folks. Perfection takes a long time” Teruteru said in his usual cocky attitude.

“He means some of the cooking utensils were missing, he freaked out for five minutes then, we had to make do with the rest of the supplies left” Hajime corrected. He was already done with Teruteru’s bs. Teruteru looked back and gave Hajime an exaggerated glare, Hajime just smirked back. They set the food down on the table and before they could even set down the utensils, Akane got up and ran towards the food; Imposter, or so they called ‘him’, quickly followed.

“Akane, wait! You know I must always test the food to see if anything is amiss.” Imposter scolded.

“Ah shut it! We all know the food is safe, plus I’m hungry!”  

Teruteru tried to get the food away from the greedy girl but, it was already too late, the chicken had been torn into and the Impostor went for the soup.

“ALESSIA CARA! What are you two doing?! Stop acting like heathens and take a serving like the rest of the class! This food is a work of art and should be treated and eaten as such!”

This soon became a game of cat and mouse as Teruteru ran away with the food and Akane chased him. Hajime sighed and the rest of the class laughed. Nagito and Hajime decided to serve the rest of the food. Grabbing plates and utensils, they gave every student their own serving and saved two servings for Teruteru and Akane. Hajime got the last two servings for himself and Nagito and put them on the last table to the end; they usually ate together, mostly because the class insists they do, now that they’re officially a thing.

“Hajime, help me! I can’t outrun this beast forever!” Teruteru pleaded from the hallway. Hajime facepalmed before walking towards the hallways. Nagito giggled before going to take a seat but, when he got to his chair, he noticed that Hajime’s plate was gone.  

“What? Impostor, did you steal Hajime’s food again? Haven’t we said that the food was safe?” Nagito asked.

“What?” Impostor seemed confused, “No, I didn’t. I was right here the whole time.”

Nagito looked at Impostor then back at the missing food, “That’s strange. Then who took it? It wasn’t Akane, she’s chasing Teruteru.”

“Oh OH! We have a food thief on the island!” Ibuki said a little too excitedly, “We gotta be detectives and find out who dunnit!”

“Can that happen after breakfast?” Kazuichi whined, “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“You guys can eat, I’m going to search,” Nagito offered.

“Nagito, you know Hajime isn’t going to like that, you’re probably the one that needs to eat the most,” Of course, Mahiru is right but, Nagito didn’t feel comfortable with that. Guess that comes with caring about someone. Besides, Nagito wasn’t hungry.

“It’ll be fine,” is all Nagito said before leaving the cafeteria to search. If they have a thief, it would be the person without an alibi but, everyone was in the cafeteria. That means, it’s possibly someone that shouldn’t even be on the island. As Nagito looks around the first island to find anything, he instead sees a ship docked on the main island, this often means Makoto and company had arrived.  

Nagito went to the main island to greet them. When he got near their ship, he saw Makoto and security, they seemed to be looking for something or someone. He approached Makoto and tapped him on the shoulder. Makoto yelped. Right...he doesn’t like being approached from behind.

“Oh, Komaeda! It’s just you. Uhm...could you not do that?” Makoto asked, still a little shaken up.

“Sorry”

“It’s fine, actually, I’m glad you’re here! Have you seen anything or anyone strange?”

“Actually, yes.” Nagito confirmed, “Someone stole Hajime’s food. I’ve been looking for any evidence that could show me who it is.”

“That could be her.” Makoto mumbled to himself.

“Who?” Nagito questioned.

Makoto didn’t answer, he seems to be deep in thought about something. When he snapped out of thought, he looked at Nagito and asked, “Can you help me find her?”

“Uhh...sure?” Nagito responded confused.

Makoto smiled and started to search around the main island again. Nagito decided to search a different island. Something was telling him to search the fourth island and so he did. The once carnival themed island was now turned into another eatery. Nagito searched the booths to see if someone was there. By the time he made it to the last booth, he heard scuttering; as if someone was running away. He followed the noise, trying be as quiet as possible, until he heard rustling. He looked behind him to see a little girl with an empty plate in one hand and a teddy bear in the other.

The little girl had dark brown skin and bushy near-black hair up in two puffs on the sides of her head. She was wearing a baggy, plain white t-shirt with a dusty pink skirt and dark pink shoes and an out of place, purple bow but, her most noticeable feature was her deep red eyes and her dead stare; it reminded Nagito of Izuru. He, slowly, approached the young girl and kneeled down to her eye level.  

“Hello, my name is Nagito Komaeda, what’s your name?”

She didn’t respond. She just continued to stare at him. It was kind of creepy, though Nagito of all people had no right to judge.  

“Were you the one that stole the food?” Nagito asked while pointing to the plate.

The girl didn’t answer but looked at the plate in her hand. She then held out the plate to Nagito as if she was giving it to him. Nagito took that as a confession and took the plate. He got back to his feet and started heading back. The girl didn’t follow.

“Come one,” he said, waving his hand in a gesture that meant follow.

When he noticed her walking towards him, he started to leave once more. He made sure to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t fall behind, she didn’t. He made his way to the main land where now everyone was, including Makoto.

“Ah! There they are.” Makoto said, relieved, “I told you he was fine.”

“Nagito! Where were you?” Hajime asked. It seemed he was worried. “And who is this?”

Nagito gestured to the girl now hiding behind him. “She’s the food thief. I don’t know what her name is. She won’t talk to me. I was hoping Naegi-kun would know.”

Makoto sighed, “Sadly, I don’t. She won’t talk to any of us.”

Akane told one good look at the girl and laughed.

“Akane, what might be so funny. I do not believe this is a situation to L O L about.” Sonia commented.

“Y’all are idiots! Look at the girl, she’s not Asian. She’s not even Afro-Asian! Of course, the girl was silent, she probably doesn’t speak Japanese!”

Akane walked up to the girl and spoke a different language. The girl’s eyes lit up and she started to talk back. Everyone else seemed confused expect Hajime and Sonia. But that made sense, Hajime was the Ultimate Everything and thus the Ultimate Linguist and Sonia is a princess that knew thirty different languages. Nagito could somewhat understand but, wasn’t as great at translation. He could only tell that the two were speaking English.

“What are they saying?” Kazuichi asked, completely lost.

“Introductions. Akane is introducing herself and the rest of us to girl.” Sonia responded a little coldly.

Akane then turned to the group again.

“Okay, pretty much; the girl speaks English, she’s from an island named ‘Dominica’, she’s 10 and her name is Anna spelled A-n-n-a.”

Makoto piped up, “So she speaks English...I wouldn’t know that since we found her just wandering around Tokyo. We actually brought her here to see if you guys could take care of her. I, unfortunately, don’t have the time to.”

The group fell silent, did they actually want to take care of a random child that they don’t know?  

“Why not?” Akane said, confidently, “It’s be nice to get some kids around here for once. Plus, she got nowhere to go.”

“It does seem like the right thing to do,” Hajime said, “But, are all of you fine with it?”

One by one the group slowly nodded their heads; no one objected, surprisingly.

Akane spoke to Anna in English, Hajime translated for the rest of the group.

English is in Bold, Japanese is not.

“Do you want to stay with us Anna?”

Anna replied, “...Are they nice people?”

“Of course.” Akane said, chipper as ever.

“...Sure then. I trust you.” Anna smile.

“Yay!”

Akane looked back at the group and started speaking Japanese again.

“Well, I do have a mission soon but, Sonia and Hajime understand English so, it should be fine. We can set her up with one of you.”

“Would you wanna stay with the Blonde girl or the Brown spikey haired boy?”

“Why can’t I stay with you?” Anna asked?

“Cause I’m going on a mission soon and I won’t be here to talk to you.” Akane points to Hajime and Sonia, “Those two also know English.”

“Oh.” Anna took a look at Hajime and Sonia and pointed at Hajime, “He seems nice.”

Hajime smiled. Kazuichi snickered.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard someone say that Hajime seems nice”  

Hajime didn’t even need to glare at Kazuichi because Nagito did it for him. Kazuichi rose up his hands in defense.

“Really? The girl doesn’t seem nice?”

Anna paused, “A blonde lady took me away from my mommy...”

Silence.

Sonia and surprisingly, Hiyoko seems pretty uncomfortable after hearing that.

“Oh... well, I promise, Sonia is not a bad person. She’s a very nice blonde lady!” Akane reassured, “But, if you feel uncomfortable with her then, Hajime it is.”

With the living arrangements settled they all went home to bask, in wonder, at this very interesting day.

[littlemisslol-fic]

Varigo week continues!!! @alistairwrites these prompts are so fun omg

Day Two: First Kiss 😘😘

They said that if you wanted a favor, you could always go ask the Witch of the Iron Wood.

 Varian’s sure it’s bullshit, of course it is. Witches aren’t real- the only magic that he’s ever come across is from artifacts and space rocks; things that, no matter how you looked at it, are already goddamn weird to start with. Magic is just a type of power they have yet to harness, something celestial and ancient- but within the parameters of science.

 He’s never believed the rumours, that if you went to the woods bordering Corona and the Iron Kingdom and walked so deep into the woods you risked getting lost, you might come across the esteemed witch. For a price, they said, the witch would grant you a single wish and be done with you. Your debt would be paid, and you’d wake up in your own bed without a clue as to how you got there, with your wish fulfilled. Varian’s never believed it, never wanted to believe it- he’s a man of science, damn it, and he’ll stick to science, thank you very much.

 But…

 Then his dad had gotten sick.

 Something in Quirin’s lungs- potentially too many cold mornings working in the field, maybe too long trapped in the amber, or perhaps just a stroke of bad luck- had festered and eaten away at him, leaving the man nearly bedridden in a matter of weeks. Varian, only twenty, had been forced to listen as the doctor recommended that Quirin start writing an airtight will, just in case, to assure that Varian would be taken care of in case… in case Quirin didn’t make it.

 Varian had worked himself into a tizzy, refusing to leave his father’s side, brewing medicine and other alchemical solutions in an attempt to find a cure, a fix-it, something, anything, to save his father. But nothing had worked, and Varian was at his wits end.

 So when someone had spoken of their own failed trek to find the witch, Varian- desperate as he was- had packed a bag and started running.

 It was a long shot, longer than he liked to think, but if there was even a semblance of a chance that this Witch of the Iron Wood could help his father… then Varian was willing to try. So he’d packed a bag, left his father in the competent care of Old Corona’s best physician, and had started the three-day trek to the Iron Wood.

 The forest was ancient, and it wore its years well. Grand trees stood nearly thirty meters tall, gnarled and drooping with ivy and vines, covered every inch of the woods in a way that suffocated light and sound. Standing at the threshold Varian had nearly turned back- what good was he to his father if he ended up lost in the woods… or dead?- but the memory of Quirin’s pale face and limp chest spurred him forwards, allowing the woods to swallow him whole.

 He’d wandered for a two days, tripping over twisted roots and sleeping in trees to keep himself away from curious wildlife. It’s on the third day, when Varian’s well and truly lost, that he stumbles upon the cabin. It’s plain, humble. well kept but obviously old in the way the creeping ivy had grown close around the building, digging deep into the stone over the course of years.

 It's set in a small clearing, surrounded by a lush garden of herbs and plants Varian has no name for- he’s never been one for the apothecary side of the sciences- and a prim, well built fence. It’s a modest cabin, made of cobblestone and thick wooden timbers, with a single chimney merrily spitting a small plume of smoke. The windows are large, and Varian can catch sight of rows of plants poking out from under the curtains inside.

 The cabin is warm, inviting.

 Suspicious.

 Varian approaches with caution, walking forwards with a tenseness to his shoulders. He can’t be sure if this the cabin, or just a cabin, but it’s best to approach as if it were a trap- better to be wrong and look strange, than be too casual and end up dead. Birdsong rings through the calm clearing; sunlight beams down in shining pillars that sets the grass aglow. He doesn’t trust it for a second.

 There’s a little stone path that leads up to the front door. Varian follows it with a measured step, ignoring the happy little bees that gently float between the flowers. For all he knows, this is a trap. The Witch of the Iron Wood could be a con artist, a thief, hell, even an actual witch who wasn’t super into the idea of helping people so much as sacrificing them for weird witch-spells.

 Magic bullshit. Can’t be too careful.

 Still, Varian wasn’t raised in a barn; when he reaches the oak front door he still knocks like a normal person, and waits for an answer. It doesn’t come. Curiously, he raises his hand to knock against the old door again, only for the door to swing wide open by itself with a long, drawn out creak of old hinges.

 “Oh, that’s creepy.” Varian mutters to himself, peeking into the dark interior of the cabin beyond. “Super creepy.”

 He peeks behind himself, looking back down the path with a grimace. He could just turn around, go home… but then what if Quirin wasn’t improving? What if he was worse, and Varian had turned away from an option to save him because he was scared? Varian’s hands clench at the thought, so tightly he can feel his nails through his gloves. He turns back around and gazes into the darkness in front of him.

 Teeth grit, Varian walks forwards into the cabin.

 The interior of the building is just as well maintained as the exterior. The room Varian steps into is a great room of some sort, a larger space with a small kitchen pushed to the side and a series of mismatched, but well loved, couches and chairs surrounding a large fireplace in the very center of the room. Hanging above the fireplace is a large cauldron, filled to the brim with a smoking, bright purple concoction. The light from outside filters through the wall of plants Varian had noticed while outside, keeping the interior relatively dark.

 “This place just keeps getting creepier,” Varian grumbles into the empty air, approaching the cauldron with hesitant steps.

 “Well, thank you, I built it myself.” Comes a snarky voice from behind, startling Varian into flinging himself forwards, hiding behind the cast iron cauldron. For a brief second, he considers making a break for the door-

 Which slams shut of its own accord.

 Perfect.

 Varian risks a peek up and over the edge of the cauldron, the steam hazing his vision over as he crouches on the floorboards. Before him stands a blond man, looking at Varian with an expectant expression. It tugs at his pale face in an attractive way, tilts his glasses askew in a way that compliments the choppy blond hair and pony tail the taller boy sports. He’s dressed in green, a similar shade to his honestly stunning eyes and-

 Wow. Wow okay time to tone that down.

 Varian peeks over the lip of the cauldron a little more, sizing the taller man up. The other stands between Varian and the door, he’d have to get around him to get out-

 “So, what is it that you want?” The blond asks, and Varian realizes how out of place he is.

 “I- sorry!” Varian crows, stepping back from the cauldron as if it’d burnt him. “Sorry, the door was open, and I’m actually looking for someone that lives out here, and-”

 “Listen.” Blondie cuts him off. “I know that you’re here to ask your favour, so. What is it? Gold, immortality, love? I don’t have all day, spit it out.”

 “I-”

 “Wait, no, I bet you I can guess. You look like a nerd, something to do with fame? Glory?”

 “No!”

 Blondie raises a brow. There’s a brief second of pause, before Varian finally fully creeps out from behind the cauldron. He takes a breath. For dad, he thinks.

 “My name is Varian,” He starts. The blond man raises a brow, looking rather confused to be given a name. “What’s yours?”

 “H-Hugo.” The blond stutters a bit, like he wasn’t ready to be asked that. Varian smiles.

 “Hugo,” He repeats. “Nice to meet you. Are you the one everyone’s been calling a witch?”

 “Sure am.” Hugo replies, taking a step forward. Varian feels his face light up, even as he’s passed by in lieu of the cauldron. Hugo begins to stir the liquid, looking at it judgementally. He twists around towards one of the plants on the windowsill, plucking a leaf off it and tossing it in. The mixture goes a shade of green, not unlike pea soup.

 “Great!” Varian chirps, “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me?”

 “Yeah, your wish, right?” Hugo mutters, “That’s all anyone ever cares about. So what is it you want?”

 “I- that’s a little sad.” Varian says, “No one ever just visits you?”

 “Nope,” Hugo says, popping the p. “And neither did you, so spit it out.”

 “My… my father is sick.” Varian finally says, looking to the floor. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to help him get better, but nothing works.”

 Hugo pauses in his stirring, looking back to Varian with a calculating look. “You realize you could ask for anything, right?” He says, “Eternal life, endless fortune, riches beyond your wildest dreams.”

 “I didn’t think that was real.” Varian replies, frankly. “I thought you would just be a skilled healer. That’s all I was looking for.”

 “Just medicine.” Hugo says, as if he thinks it’s a joke. His face twists into something confused when Varian nods.

 “Just medicine.” The shorter of them says with conviction. “Nothing else. Whatever your price is, I’ll pay it; I just want my father to be well again.”

 Hugo looks to Varian like he’s grown a second head. Varian looks at him with a schooled expression, choking back the anxiety boiling in his gut. If this didn’t work, if this Hugo couldn’t help him, then Quirin would surely not have long left-

 “Fine.” Hugo says, “I think that’s a stupid wish, but who am I to stop you from throwing it away?”

 Varian’s expression must do something stupid, because Hugo laughs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” He mutters, reaching forwards towards Varian with a grin. The shorter of them feels his face heat up in a blush, going red at their sudden closeness, but winces when Hugo reaches up and tugs a single strand of hair from his hair.

 “Ow,” Varian whines, rubbing at the spot the hair had been tugged from. “Why’d you do that?”

 “Ingredients.” Hugo chides, “And unless you’re going to stop asking stupid questions, you can go wait outside.”

 Varian pauses at that, quietly taking a seat on one of the chairs. Hugo looks at him with another questioning expression, but eventually the blond shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He mutters, and goes back to his work.

 Varian watches with rapt attention as herbs and other ingredients get tossed into the cauldron in precise amounts, the mixture going every colour of the rainbow over the next hour. Hugo works quickly, focused on his… potion? Elixir? Varian’s not sure what to call it actually. While Varian keeps from asking questions, that doesn’t stop him from watching with a keen eye as the mixture continues to bubble. After an hour, it eventually turns a rather pleasant shade of lilac purple and stops smoking. Hugo looks smug about it, so Varian assumes the mixture must be finished.

 Hugo takes a small pipette from a nearby shelf of strange looking glass instruments- Varian would kill to be able to know what they all did, though Hugo doesn’t seem apt to share- and uses the tool to transfer some of the mixture into a small, glass vial. He does this three more times, making a total of four, before placing them into a small bag.

 “And done.” Hugo says, more to himself than to Varian. He twists around with a smarmy grin, holding the bag out. Varian looks at it with a sense of wonderous apprehension, reaching out a hand but stopping himself before he can touch the crushed red velvet. He stands from the couch, pursing his lips.

 “What’s the trade?” He asks without malice, but with a hefty amount of suspicion. Hugo’s smile draws wider, and Varian brings his hand fully back to his chest. Always a catch, with magic, something cynical in him groans, absolute bullshit.

 “Well,” Hugo muses, “There’s always things that I need from around, though to be honest I’m pretty stocked up on anything I could want.”

 “Surely there’s something?” Varian says with a hint of panic- Hugo wouldn’t make the stupid potion only to refuse to trade Varian for it, right? The previous anxiety rears its head again; stupid magic, honestly, always being so contrived.

 “There is one thing,” Hugo muses, eyes trailing on Varian’s face. The shorter man feels himself blush again as Hugo steps close, cupping his chin in a way that feels scarily intimate for someone he’s only just met. “One, tiny thing…” Hugo says, trailing off. Varian can’t help but feel a little thrill, pressing closer, unconsciously, to the extremely attractive man in front of him.

 “Anything.” Varian says with a small grin of his own, having half an idea of where Hugo might be going with this from the way the blond’s gaze lingers on Varian’s own lips. He’s not against it, not at all; Varian’s not the type, usually, but something about the blond in front of him draws him in. Hugo’s smile widens at the permission, leaning forwards.

 It’s a chaste kiss, a little too soft and sweet for strangers, but one that Varian can say he enjoys. He’s never been kissed before, but if this is what it’s like- the smooth press of lips against his own, the soft feeling of a body pressed up against his front- suddenly all those romantic ballads make a lot more sense.

 Varian’s eyes slip closed, barely registering as the bag is slipped into his hands. After what could be hours, or merely seconds, Hugo pulls back. Varian keeps his eyes closed, hoping to entice the blond to come back and kiss him again.

 “Have your father drink that twice a day, every twelve hours.” Hugo says, his tone somewhat sad. When Varian opens his eyes again, he is standing in his bedroom, alone. He brings up a dazed hand to lightly touch at his lips, blinking in shock.

 The sudden silence rings in his ears.  

 BANNER

 “Well, Olivia.” Hugo says to his beloved pet, “Another few hours to go, and then we’ll break for dinner.”

 He’s out in his garden, weeding. Nimble, long fingers deftly pull undesirable plants from his herbs, tossing them into a nearby pile. Oliva, small little mouse that she is, does her own work of yanking out the smaller plants, working on her own pile. Hugo smiles as she chirps her assent at his idea, plopping a rogue dandelion on her pile with a squeak.

 It had been nearly a week since Varian had come to ask for his favour from Hugo- the blond couldn’t help but miss his company, to be honest. After the few hours they’d spent together, Hugo found himself to be a little enamoured. Hugo’s had dealt with every thrill seeker in the book, those who came to his cabin demanding fame, or glory, or riches, but he’d yet to encounter someone who had been so willing to make the dangerous walk to Hugo’s home for the sake of a family member. Varian had asked his name before asking for his help, had commented that it was sad that no one visited him. He’d been… genuine. Nice. Treated Hugo’s skills like they were less something to be demanded, and more like a gift to be asked for. He had been sweet, and it made something in Hugo bitter.

 It was a lonely life, out in the woods, but a peaceful one. Hugo was willing to live alone if it meant he was mostly left to his own devices, though times like when Varian had arrived, he couldn’t help but feel the sting of the isolation creeping in. Perhaps that was why he’d asked for the kiss, though now Hugo felt rather stupid about it. What else could he have asked from Varian? Something more useful for sure. Supplies, food, anything really to save him a walk. But instead his stupid brain had seen a pretty boy and gone totally blank. Hugo can’t help but be a little concerned at that- if he started giving things out for free, he’d surely be in trouble when winter rolled around. 

 Oliva squeaked again, this time something that sounded concerned. Hugo looked up from his plot of dirt to see her rush over to him, the little mouse scrambling up his shirt to perch on his shoulder. He looked up to where she had come from, seeing a familiar figure standing on the edge of the grove.

 “Hi, Hugo!” Varian said with a grin, holding up a small basket. “I was wondering if you wanted some company?”

 Hugo… short circuits. “What?” He asks dumbly as Varian walks towards him. The shorter man pauses at the gate, his face asking to be let in. Hugo nods, still stunned as Varian- Varian had come back????- lets himself in and strides over to Hugo with a smile.

 “Well, you said no one ever came to visit.” Varian said softly, “So I thought I’d change that.”

 “You… don’t want anything?” Hugo asks, struck stupid.

 “Well, I mean, I want to talk to you.” Varian flushes, biting at his lip. “And I wanted to thank you. And so does my dad! He helped me make this for you.” Varian shoves the basket at Hugo with a sudden motion, as if embarrassed to have it now that he’s dragged it all the way here.

 “He’s doing better, then?” Hugo says, taking the basket without thinking. It’s got some weight to it. A peek under the lid shows about four loaves of fresh bread, tucked away and kept good by a thick towel.

 “Much, thank you.” Varian says earnestly, “He was up and walking the day after I came to see you.”

 “That’s good.” Hugo muses, lost in thought. No one had ever come back to see him after they’d gotten their wish, let alone to thank him and bring him another gift.

 Varian nods with a smile, one that’s bright and happier than the one he’d worn before. Hugo likes it on him. “It’s fantastic.” He breathes, “I owe you more than you could ever know.”

 “Nah, we’re even.” Hugo says, flushing at the memory of Varian’s lips on his. “Your debt’s been paid.”

 “Oh,” Varian says, looking sideways. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure you don’t want to- uh. Again. Never mind.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “Hm.” Hugo muses, catching on quick, “Actually, you know, I think something went wrong the first time.” 

 Varian perks up at that, looking to Hugo with a small grin. “Oh?” He asks, “Should we- maybe…”

 “Sorry, goggles.” Hugo shrugs, leaning forwards, “Looks like we’ll need a second payment.”

 “Aw, shucks.” Varian rolls his eyes, leaning forwards with a smirk, “Whatever am I going to do?”

 “Eh, we’ll figure it out. Put you on a repayment plan.” Hugo grins, teasing for just a second more before Varian grabs him by the collar and drags Hugo down into a fiery kiss, their smiles melding together in the quiet of the grove. When they split for air, Varian smiles.

 “I can live with that,��� He says, and Hugo can feel the grin splitting his face as he leans back down.

 Their third kiss is the best one yet.

[free-pool-trash]

Ghost - Four x Reader (6 Underground)

REMEMBER WHEN I ASKED IF ANYBODY WANTED THIS BUT THEN DIDN’T CARE AN DID IT ANYWAY? HI IT’S 2:23 AM.

Hi, I’ve not read through this but like it was in my head so I had to do it, enjoy xoxo

Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 4.5K 

"What do you mean he's dead?" You asked dumbly, eyes searching the man across from you for any sign that he was lying. You know how lads do, they take the piss for fun, to get a reaction, you really wished this was one of those times. You knew something was off from the second Billy's brother showed up at your doorstep, since your best friend ran off to who knows where to do who knows what you'd fallen out of contact with his family, especially his brother. God that guy was a wanker. So his appearance definitely left a sour taste in your mouth from the get-go. 

"Don't play dumb. You heard me, love." You knew then he wasn't lying, he wasn't very good at hiding things anyway, that much you knew from how red hot he acted around the police.

Billy's brother was just like him, a thief. The only difference between the two was that his brother was older, slower and more of a prick. Still, you shook your head at him, Billy was reckless sometimes, sure, but he was smart, there's no way he could have gotten himself killed. His brother sighed before piping up again, "You know better than anyone our Billy handled some risky jobs. He bit off more than he could chew and it caught up to him. You were the one who tried to convince him to stay, there's nothing more you could've done for him, darlin', don't beat yourself up, right?" He stood up and placed a rough hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze and making his way out of your living room and towards the front door, stopping in the doorway and speaking up one last time before showing himself out.

"Funeral is on Sunday, he'd want you there."

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing about what was happening felt real. 

You'd shown up to your best friend's funeral, only 4 other people had bothered to show their faces. His mother, his brother and two of his old "work friends", neither of the two so called 'friends' even stayed until the end. 

It made your heart ache, made you feel sick even, Billy was into some sketchy shit but he was good and kind and he deserved better than this. 

His mother held onto your hand tightly as she cried, watching her son's empty coffin, as no body had been recovered from the accident he'd been in, was lowered into the ground leaning on you for support as her eldest son stood in the distance acting as if he had some place better to be.

Once the ceremony had ended, Billy's brother left quickly, leaving yourself and his mother at the boy's grave. You hadn't cried yet, you guessed that you were just in shock, your body was numb and your brain was a mess, you couldn't even remember if you'd eaten anything in the last three days. But as you took a proper look at the fresh grave and the gravestone above it with the name of someone who knew you better than yourself, a boy who you had made some of the best memories of your life with, when you finally took in what exactly it was that you were looking at your lip began to quiver and you couldn't stop the sob that ripped from your throat. Billy's mother was quick to wrap her arms around you and let you cry into her shoulder, for all the years she has known you, since you and Billy had taken a shine to each other back when you were both sixteen, she'd known you to be quite the fighter, the kind of girl who kept her negative emotions to herself and the kind of girl who always tried her best not to let a single tear slip unless nobody was watching, she knew today would be different though.

 "You know, he'd be really happy that you're here, you were always his favorite person, apart from me." She told you softly trying to lighten your mood at the end, her hand running up and down along your back, your frame was shaking as you cried and the older woman continued. "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this but he really did love you, (Y/n)."

 You nodded into her shoulder sniffling in an attempt to calm your crying, you'd known he loved you, he told you before he'd ran off away to Europe. "Yeah, I love him too. Wish he wasn't such an idiot though." You whispered, pulling away from his mother and wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your black jumper, the same jumper Billy had told you he loved seeing you wear a few months ago before he left.

His mother smiled a sad smile at you, "I know, love, me too. At least we have each other to talk to about it, yeah? No more of this falling out of contact business." She chided softly, giving your arm a small squeeze. "I'll be around this time I promise." You told her, no hint of a smile on your face, just guilt in your eyes that you'd drifted from her in the first place after she'd been so good to you during your teenage years, but just like her son, she was sweet, understanding and she didn't hold anything against you.

 "Good. Now I'm gonna sit in the car, you stay here and say whatever it is that you have to say to him, okay? After that me and you will chat over a few drinks." She gave your arm one last comforting squeeze and headed to her car to wait. 

Heaving out a sigh and attempting to regain control of your breathing you looked up into the cloudy grey sky and started to let your thoughts spill out from your mouth. "I'm so fucking sorry, Billy." Your voice was uneven, shaky.

 "I should have tried harder to make you stay, should've slashed your tires or something."  You said laughing dryly.

"I know you were probably scared, I really really fucking hope you're not anymore." You started to cry again, your breath now coming out in high pitched wheezes. "I'm going to try not to think about that part too much. I just-" 

You took in a deep breath and wiped your face with your sleeves again, trying your best to compose yourself, he wouldn't want to see you like this.

 "I love you, Billy. I'm not gonna say goodbye right now, because that's too final and I'm not sure if I can accept this just yet… so I love you and I'll talk to you later, yeah?" Deciding that was all you had in you for the day, you kissed your finger, pressed it against Billy's gravestone and then made your way to the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One watched as Billy, or now Four, let tears fall down his cheeks as he listened to the girl, and out of all the fake funerals he'd had to watch so far, this was definitely the worst and not just because of the girl.

One, no longer being able to keep his curiosity at bay opened his mouth, "So what is she to you exactly?"

Four didn't look at the older man but he did answer, his voice shaky and uneven, just like the girl's had been, "My best mate. Name's (Y/n)." 

One raised an eyebrow at his response, something wasn't adding up. "Not your girlfriend?" Four let our a dry laugh, shaking his head but not tearing his eyes away from you. 

"No. Not my girlfriend." He turned to look at One then added, "Do love her to bits, though." One nodded in understanding, he could tell Four would gladly get into the topic of this (Y/n) girl had One given him the opportunity to, but he felt like he knew enough and it was time for Four to move on.

"Looks like the shows over, kid." One stated as they watched her walk towards the graveyard car park.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You think you could give me a hand going through his things? His room is still as he left it, didn't bring much with him when he went away." Billy's mother asked you, as you both finished up your drinks, you nodded your head in reply.

 "You looking to do it now?" You asked her, knowing that she probably wanted it over and done with, she'd never been the kind of woman to wallow in the time you've known her. "If you don't have any other plans for today."

 "Course not. M'all yours." She smiled gratefully at you and beckoned you to follow her as she got up, heading towards her car again. You'd only had a drink each and the house wasn't far so she got into the driver's seat, you rode shotgun beside her and you soon arrived at what used to be Billy's house, but now it was just his mum's. 

Going through his things felt surreal, surreal in the most gut wrenching way imaginable, deciding what of his things to keep or throw out was the stuff of a nightmare you wish you could wake up from. 

His mum sent you down to the kitchen to make tea for the pair of you as she needed a minute alone, which you completely understood and got busy boiling the kettle and preparing the two cups of tea. 

Slowly you headed back up the narrow stairs of the two story terraced house, careful not to spill the tea you were holding in each hand.

On arrival back in Billy's room, his mum was placing things into a cardboard moving box that hadn't been there when you had left to make the tea nearly ten minutes ago, setting her mug of tea on the nightstand  and receiving a nod of appreciation in return, you took a sip of your own tea, sitting on the edge of Billy's bed and cradling the cup close to your face as you asked, "What's that one for?" 

In response the blonde woman stood up from her place on the floor, the fairly large box between her arm and hip, and sat beside you on the bed, the box in-between the both of you. 

She smiled kindly at you, her smile was exactly like his, they were so alike it almost made you want to cry. "This one's for you, love."

When you only looked at her she nudged the box closer to you, "Go on, open it."

With care you lifted the boxes cardboard tabs and began to look through it, willing yourself not to cry, no matter what she had placed in the box.

As much as you tried, as soon as the scent of one of his jumpers hit your nose you knew there was no way going through this box was going to be a tear free endeavour. 

First you pulled out a few items of his clothing, a few jumpers and a few of his t-shirts that you already knew you'd be sleeping in until his scent was replaced with your own. 

Second was a framed picture from his 18th birthday, it was of you and him, the both of you absolutely sloshed and hanging out of each other. Despite how drunk you were when that picture was taken you remembered it so clearly, Billy had wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you'd thrown both of your own around his neck, Billy being the most chaotic drunk ever had the buttons of his shirt almost completely undone as his free hand pulled one of your legs over his lap, you'd thrown your head back in drunken laughter and Billy had the brightest smile on his face. You laughed looking at the picture now, it was the messiest thing you'd ever seen but it was absolutely perfect. 

Placing it on your lap you dove your hand back into the box, more clothes were pulled out and his mum had thrown in trinkets from around his room along with jewelry he'd stolen and at the very bottom there were two things in particular that made your heart break and flutter simultaneously. 

Before you'd even fully recovered it from the box his mum spoke up, "Found those in the back of his wardrobe." 

The item you'd pulled out first was in an envelope that looked like the kind to hold a birthday card, but it weighed more than a regular card and felt like there was something inside it, it had your name written on the outside in the sloppy handwriting that you knew belonged to Billy. You figured it was a birthday card he'd gotten you before he left and didn't get a chance to give you since he left before your birthday and was MIA during it. Gently you opened the envelope, trying your best not to rip the paper as you did. You took out the card first the weighted item sliding to the corner of the envelope, it was indeed a birthday card, one of those stupid novelty ones with the joke about how old you were getting on the front of it. Giggling at the stupidity of the front of the card you opened it up to have your giggles hushed as you read the card,

 "Hi, love. 

Got you this card way too early but doesn't matter because at least now I won't forget to get one.

Hope you like gift (check the envelope if you haven't already ;)) stole it specifically for you, knew you've been wanting it for a while… 

Hope you're having the best day and if you're reading this it means I'm with you and it's about to get so much better ;) 

lots of love from Billy x" 

God, you really did think that you'd be sick after reading his card, he wasn’t with you while you read it and he’d never be with you again. You’re head was spinning at the thought, your heart threw the floor. Slowly you reached over to your side to pick the pink envelope up again. For the millionth time that day a cry left your lips as you picked the necklace out of the paper casing of the envelope. 

You had been wanting it for a while but it was too expensive and you'd made peace with the fact that you'd probably never have it. Billy really was something else. 

"Here. One last thing." His mother told you, not letting you get too caught up in your own thoughts as she handed you another picture, this one wasn't in a frame. 

It seemed that yourself and your best friend only took decent pictures together when completely wasted. This one was taken by a mutual friend at a house party, the summer before he left so not all that long ago. 

You'd both gate-crashed a party, neither one of you had been invited to, in one of the posh suburban neighborhoods, not that anyone had noticed, the place was full with people in their early twenties, all of whom way too high or drunk to notice that you and Billy were uninvited guests. 

Whoever was hosting the party, you couldn't remember, but they had a poor and from the picture you remembered that Billy was having the absolute time of his life drunk as fuck and half naked, his shirt nowhere to be seen in the photo. 

You weren't much better, arms wrapped around Billy's middle in a side hug, chin on his shoulder, looking up at him with a smile you hadn't seen yourself sport since he'd went away. He had the same smile looking down at you, though. His curls sticking to his forehead and green eyes almost glowing as he gazed at you. Black ink stained the undeveloped side of the photo, again it was in Billy's messy handwriting, "Me and my best girl 22nd July" 

You really weren't sure how you were supposed to go on knowing that you were never going to see him again. It wouldn't be easy, that's all you knew. And to be completely honest? You were shit scared thinking about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-4 MONTHS LATER-

Things definitely hadn’t been easy for you since Billy’s funeral. Not too long after sorting through his stuff you’d started having nightmares, they were always the same. You’d see him get himself killed without being able to help, you could never move, never scream, they were pure torture and they were every single night.

You’d spoken to his mum about it, she had them too so you didn’t mind telling her. It was when you started seeing his face everywhere you went that the trouble really started, you remembered calling his mother in a panic of tears and breathless cries telling her that he was everywhere, that he kept disappearing whenever you tried to follow, how you wanted it to stop, how you couldn’t take it. 

She’d practically dragged you to the doctor’s office the next day, he gave you a renewable  prescription for hallucinations, claiming that what was happening to you was “perfectly normal” after a traumatic experience. You did as he said, took the pills every single day and after a while you stopped seeing him everywhere, but that was only half the battle.

You still felt him everywhere. Every place you passed sent you right back to the thoughts of him. 

After a month of this you made the decision, after discussing it with his mother first, to move out of the city and go somewhere else for a little while, to get some headspace and to figure yourself out. She agreed that it would be for the best and even drove you to the airport when you were actually leaving.

New York City was where you ended up, you’d been there three months already and your head was better for the change of scenery, things were still rough, sure, but they were slowly getting better. You’d gotten a job in a 24 hour cafe as a waitress, it didn’t pay great but it kept you busy most days, you rented an apartment not too far from the cafe, the place was shitty and came with a roommate but it was better than nothing. Your roommate was sweet and she was a college student so you only really seen her in the evenings if you weren’t working.

Your work schedule for the next few days was chaotic, you were working nights in the cafe four days in a row and considering your inability to sleep during the day- or night for that matter, these next few days weren’t going to be easy, you just hoped you’d be sharing your shifts with one of your more tolerable co-workers.

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“You ever been to New York, Four?” One asked eyebrow raised as he looked at the excitable blonde who was sitting with his feet thrown up on the table.

 “New York? Nah never been, always wanted to, though.” He responded, the older man nodded, “Must be your lucky day, I need you to steal something for me. I’m sending Seven with you in case it goes south. The rest of the team will catch up with you in a few days.”   

Four smiled happily, excited to see the big city and get back to his favourite hobby, stealing shit from rich people. 

Seven had never gotten the chance to see NYC either as he joined the army when he was pretty young, although he wasn’t as excited as Four was to get to the city, despite his excitement he still managed to fall asleep on the flight there, mouth hanging open and eyes only barely cracking open as the plane landed. He reminded Seven of a toddler, and if the man didn’t know any better he’d think the kid in front of him was harmless.

Their solo mission had gone surprisingly well, Four was good at what he did, that much was for sure, no alarms were triggered, he was in and out and surely nobody would notice anything was out of place until the next morning rolled around. They headed back to their hotel, a hotel One was paying for, and placed the stolen item in the safe that was in their room, before heading out into the night to find someplace to get a decent coffee.

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It was 2AM, you’d been working for two hours, only six more to go until you could go home and try to catch some sleep. The cafe was empty apart from you and your co-worker, David. You were grateful it was him you were sharing your shift with and not some of the other idiots that worked at the cafe. David was around your age, pretty chatty, kept you awake and he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either which was definitely a bonus. 

Currently, he was sweeping the floor while you sat on the counter across from the till, picking at a blueberry muffin you hadn’t paid for and you didn’t plan on paying for it either. 

“So, do you ever miss the UK?” David asked, still sweeping but clearly getting bored.

“I guess so, more so the people than the place yanno?” You told him, popping another chunk of muffin into your mouth as he nodded his head in understanding.

“Why’d you leave?” He asked, stopping his sweeping to look at you. You laughed softly tilting your head back, “It’s a very long and very depressing story.” As he went to speak again you cut him off, “One for another night.” 

The brown haired man let out a surprised laugh, “Damn, my questions are getting too predictable, I bet you killed someone of something.” He joked and you jumped down off the counter and threw your muffin wrapper in the bin, “I guess you’ll never know.”

Not too long after that, the bell above the door of the cafe rang out signaling you had a customer, looking at the door you smiled at the man who walked in, the very definition of tall, dark and handsome.

“Hi, what can I get you?” You asked nicely as he walked toward the till. “Two coffees please. For here.” He told you, a small smile on his face as you punched his order into the till. “No problem, take a seat wherever I’ll have those out in a few minutes.” You told him, throwing in a wink for good measure, you weren’t interested in dating at the minute but flirting with the attractive ones was good for passing the time. 

The man sat down at a table for two speaking up while you waited for David to make the coffee, “I like your accent, you’re English?”

You smirked at him, “How deceptive of you, yeah from London.” 

“Funny I’ve got a friend from there, he’ll be joining me in a few minutes actually.” He told you casually, leaning back on the chair.

“Maybe we’ll know each other.” You said not really thinking as you brought him his order.

As you set the cups down on the table, the man’s, whose name you didn’t know, phone began to ring, walking back to the till you busied yourself with wiping down the counter while the stranger talked on the phone, the conversation he was having in hushed whispers.

David leaned over to you, “What’d you think that’s about?” He asked looking at the man curiously, you only shrugged not really caring about the conversation. 

The man hung up his phone and looked between you and the door nervously, you hadn’t noticed anything was up, only looking up when the bell above the door rang out again.

To say your heart sank at the sight would be an understatement, he was there, Billy. For the first time in months you were seeing him. Your heart was beating erratically, to the point you thought it’d break your ribs if it kept up much longer and your face turned white, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, telling yourself he’s not really there, it’s just your tired brain playing tricks on you, you’ll open your eyes and he’ll be gone. It’s not real. You repeated it to yourself until your heart beat had gone back to normal.

Opening your eyes was something you almost wished you’d never done. He was still there, eyes glassy and staring right at you.

“Hey David…” You called out meekly, your voice getting caught in your throat as you maintained eye contact with Billy, if he was even really standing there.

“Yeah?” He asked concerned, glancing between you and the guy who had just walked in.

“Can you see a tall, blonde guy standing in the doorway, green eyes, very very alive?” The question was almost a whisper but you were sure, the three men in the cafe had all heard it. Raising an eyebrow David nodded his head, “Yeah?”

At his reply you felt as though the wind had been knocked out of you, you swallowed dryly. Eyes never leaving Billy’s you walked around the counter you were stood behind and slowly, cautiously, made your way toward the boy you hadn’t seen in almost a year, the boy you thought you’d never see again.

Once you were close enough to touch, you reached out and pressed your hand to his chest, and when you felt him, solid, with his heart beating as frantically as yours you couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. His larger hand reached up and covered yours, your eyes still locked. 

“Hi, love.” He spoke softly, fucking terrified he’d scare you away.

“You’re alive.” You stated, lip quivering as his gaze fell to the necklace hanging around your neck, a small smile finding his face when his eyes met yours again. 

“You’re wearing the present I got you.” You smacked him upside the head with your free hand, ripping your other away from him, anger replacing your shock. He rubbed his head, letting a small “ow” slip from his mouth.

“Yeah, I’m wearing the necklace you got me! The one I found when going through your shit with your mother because we thought you were fucking dead!” He was still smiling at you, he felt like shit for putting you through so much, but fuck he missed you.

The only reason he had the balls to come in was because Seven promised he wouldn’t tell One about it, but fuck was he glad he did.

“Why are you smiling?” You asked him, agitated that he wasn’t taking your outburst seriously.

Without another word he stepped forward, cupped your cheeks and smashed your lips together, trying his hardest to communicate his feelings through the kiss, his guilt for lying to you, his sadness for leaving you, his happiness to have you back right now. He smiled wide when you began to kiss back, way too soon he pulled away to answer your previous question.

“Because I fucking missed you.”