#considered silver but after getting a second opinion we liked the gold more

[morninkim]

what if a guy was really really fast

unmasked version under cut

[conundrumoftime]

Galadriel and Celeborn in earlier drafts of LOTR (part 1)

Since Twitter is getting closer to unusable I'm going to try to collect up more of my various scattered-thought meta-y threads from there into more coherent form on here. So first off: Galadriel's first appearance in Tolkien's early drafts of LOTR, and what I find so interesting about it! (This is all from The Treason of Isengard, the seventh book in the History of Middle-earth series.)

Beginning by throwing in this delightful little footnote in which Tolkien considered making Galadriel x Elrond canon :)

A second rejected note was written at some time later against Haldir's words 'they bring me a message from the Lord and Lady of the Galadrim': Lord? If Galadriel is alone and is wife of Elrond.

Anyway!

So this is the earliest appearance of Galadriel in any of Tolkien's writings, and Tolkien's writing process and approach to his whole mythology and the characters within it is so evident from the way he so clearly creates her, looks at what he's created, and thinks "oh she's got to be important" and then starts to weave her into all the earlier First and Second-Age stories.

As the notes and drafts of the Lothlorien chapters evolve Galadriel's role becomes more important and Celeborn's less. Some of the lines she gets in LOTR were his in earlier drafts, eg "your quest is known to us, but we will not speak of it openly"; Christopher Tolkien's notes say of one change that Galadriel ‘expresses the opinion previously given to Keleborn, and more decisively’. (It's funny to me in this context that the line Celeborn is best known for after the films, the "where is Gandalf" one, is Galadriel's in the book.)

Intriguingly the Mirror is in the earlier drafts & notes Celeborn's - it first appears as the 'Mirror of King Galdaran' (an earlier name for him) - and he's apparently the one who tells Frodo and Sam what it shows. Then it's his mirror, but she's the one who uses it; then finally it's just hers.

The earlier draft of their introduction:

On two seats at the further end [of the room] sat side by side the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. They looked tall even as they sat, and their hair was white and long. They said no word and moved not, but their eyes were shining.

Compared to the LOTR version:

On two chairs beneath the bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side by side, Celeborn and Galadriel. They stood up to greet their guests, after the manner of Elves, even those who were accounted mighty kings. Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord; and they were grave and beautiful. They were clad wholly in white; and the hair of the Lady was of deep gold, and the hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright; but no sign of age was upon them, unless it was in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.

That draft names them as 'Keleborn and Galadriel', but JRRT's earlier notes give other names: Tar and Finduilas -> Aran and Rhien -> Galdaran and Galdri(e)n -> Galathir and Galadhrien. Celeborn also appears randomly as 'Arafain' at one point. (Interesting that Tolkien dropped the Gal- entirely from Celeborn's name in the end but named his brother 'Galathil'; in my head they're twins.)

In this early draft Celeborn also has quite a detached and thoughtful approach to the news of the Balrog in Moria, compared to his eventual dialogue in LOTR which reads more like "the dwarves woke up a fucking what?"

Early draft:

“Tell me the full tale,' said Keleborn. Ingold [= Aragorn] then recounted all that had happened upon the pass of Caradras and afterwards; and he spoke of Balin and his book and the fight in the Chamber of Mazarbul, and the fire, and the narrow bridge, and the coming of the Balrog. 'A Balrog!' said Keleborn. "Not since the Elder Days have I heard that a Balrog was loose upon the world. Some we have thought are perhaps hidden in Mordor [?or] near the Mountain of Fire, but naught has been seen of them since the Great Battle and the fall of Thangorodrim. I doubt much if this Balrog has lain hid in the Misty Mountains - and I fear rather that he was sent by Sauron from Orodruin, the Mountain of Fire."

and LOTR:

'I saw Durin's Bane,' said Gimli in a low voice, and dread was in his eyes. 'Alas!' said Celeborn. 'We long have feared that under Caradhras a terror slept. But had I known that the Dwarves had stirred up this evil in Moria again, I would have forbidden you to pass the northern borders, you and all that went with you. And if it were possible, one would say that at the last Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net of Moria.' 'He would be rash indeed that said that thing,' said Galadriel gravely.

Both versions have Galadriel's giving a similar-ish description of who they are and how she knows Gandalf, but you can see how much more significant her role in the events of the Third Age has become by the final LOTR version:

Early draft:

'Your quest is known to me,' said Galadriel, [?seeing] Frodo's look, 'though we will not here speak more openly of it. I was at the White Council, and of all those there gathered none did I love more than Gandalf the Grey. Often have we met since and spoken of many things and purposes.'

LOTR:

'Your quest is known to us,' said Galadriel, looking at Frodo. 'But we will not here speak of it more openly [...] I it was who first summoned the White Council. And if my designs had not gone amiss, it would have been governed by Gandalf the Grey, and then mayhap things would have gone otherwise.'

Her description of who she and Celeborn are, coming right after this, is also interesting to compare.

Early draft:

The lord and lady of Lothlorien are accounted wise beyond the measure of the Elves of Middle-earth, and of all who have not passed beyond the Seas. For we have dwelt here since the Mountains were reared and the Sun was young.

LOTR:

For the Lord of the Galadhrim is accounted the wisest of the Elves of Middle-earth, and a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings. He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years uncounted; for ere the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin I passed over the mountains, and together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat.

Some things I find interesting about this:

the implication that they are both Noldor in this earliest version;

the change from both of them being accounted 'wise' to just him, lol Galadriel what happened here;

'a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings', especially reading this in the context of the Unfinished Tales versions of their 2nd Age story where they knew Sauron as Annatar, Lord of Gifts; sometimes you just get these intriguing insights into their marriage is what I'm saying.

this note!

An addition to the manuscript after the words 'for we have dwelt here since the mountains were reared and the sun was young' reads: 'And I have dwelt here with him since days of dawn, when I passed over the seas with Melian of Valinor, and together we have fought the long defeat.

This is definitely written after Tolkien had created the idea of the rebellion of the Noldor and of Melian and Thingol. So having Galadriel come to Middle-earth before the rebellion, with Melian, is presumably a way to separate her from being one of the exiles, in a way Tolkien later returned to with his very late conceptions of Galadriel and Teleri Celeborn setting out for Middle-earth separately. But I am so fascinated by the idea that this version of Galadriel just upped and left Valinor, along with one of the Maiar, because she... fancied a change?

Doubly fascinating to me if Tolkien was already thinking of Celeborn as Sindar in that version, because that means both Melian and Galadriel married Sindar royalty after coming to Middle-earth. And Melian's husband fell in love with her and got enchanted by her presence enough that he stayed in place for two hundred years as the forest grew up around him and caused all his people to abandon their journey to Valinor while they searched for him. The idea of Galadriel watching this La Belle Dame Sans Merci type of fairy tale unfold before her and then deciding she wants one too feels both somewhat terrifying and also like the sort of thing she might do.

Anyway, leaving this here for now because I have some fanfic to write and it's getting long enough already. Next time: Rings and the Mirror!

Part 2 is here

[saradrewitt]

The Six Demons of Elsewhere

CON “SILVER  JAW”

Fun facts and just little things I thought of when I began writing for IMIE (Copy and pasted from the IMIE Docs) Visual character design notes Edition!!!

Con is the only character if the official series that we do not see, his only appearance is in the spin off comic Chlorine and for good measure. In my opinion I thinks that if he managed to survive events in Chlorine it would no doubly be a quick resolution for IMIE. Not saying he’s op but that man, this fucking beast is one who takes revenge and power very personally. The one thing about characters I write for stories is that I always hope I leave more than enough room for readers to come their own conclusions. To me as a writer it just makes it more fun for those who are invested. 

When I began working on Con, it was just a matter of what was more important to share than what exactly his purpose was. Con was a character that appeared in the Hourglass music video by Set It Off sporting a grey suit, black bowler hat, and a weird obsession with selling Cody some weird shit in his coat, eventually handing Cody a old watch and disappearing. The man looked desperate, hungry for a sale, and borderline chaotic, and I thought that “yes, make this man fear death and in doing do selling his soul in desperation for immortality.” Con is a representation of the fear of death, the slip into eternal sleep, thus selling his soul in order to stay among those who are living.

In the beginning Con was just another Elsewhere resident that was forever devoted and loyal to Nox, ready to drop anything for his maker’s wishes. But after a certain amount of drafts of Chlorine he turned into another soulless human turning his life over for immortality. Con is a character that personally battled death nonstop. Inevitably meeting his eventual reality in a life he deems much better than before. 

Written character design notes from the doc, most of these were after writing and the initial (somewhat) release of his design on my instagram. His first design release here. After releasing that I went back to design and write more for him. These were the design notes I wanted to add before working on him again.

In the mv he constantly had a toothy grin, so replace the human teeth with sharp teeth, some teeth with gold and silver. Consider that he may like to bite people who knows he’s good them teefs.

Likes to sell pearls, watches, and jewelry second hand so perhaps this could be a habit from his past life selling secondhand goods to people as if they were new. 

Main color pallets range from silver, rustic gold, copper, and black (grey, disgusting whites, and faded blacks).

Consider using steel/metal/iorn elements for his character. 

1910-1930s impression, consider historical events involving the great depression for backstory.

Gerard Butler Voice claim????

Here are his official notes for his character! Enjoy!

Con was originally from Scotland before he moved into the United Sates, in around 1910. 

Escaped death from mobs and accidents in the vehicle assembly lines too many times to count.

He hates the idea of death he completely rejects the idea that one day he will fucking die (everybody dies babe you ain’t special).

He gotten himself into too much trouble when it came to some of the mafia clans in his city, he was known to con them out of money and supplies in order to survive.

Con played may roles in groups as the eyes and ears, he was loyal to no one so him having constant and sensitive information was dangerous. He still managed to get himself out of trouble by constantly double-crossing his superiors.

Weirdly enough despite his accent, he can mimic any male voice and accent he can hear, which was perfect when he wanted to mess with people or fool for his advantage. 

No one could trust him but at the same time he also never lied to them either. 

One time he was tortured by a mob member and got one of his K9s ripped off, he didn’t say another word unless he wanted to eat mushed food for the rest of his life. 

Never knew his father because he died before his birth, his older brother died in a accident, his half sister died during her birth, then after Con became a young man, his mother died. Con was constantly surrounded by death, thus he wondered why he was subjected to remain alone. One of the reasons why he emigrated to the States was because it seemed he may have a better chance of survival. 

No one really knows how he met Nox, he tells a different story all the time. From pocket-picking him at the pub, to him saving his life, all the way from him telling people that Nox was so impressed by him that he begged Con to join (”Well that’s a fucking lie” -Nox, probably at some point).

After his contract, Con just decided to just be 100% more unhinged since no none was really going to stop him. Finally he can be himself and not get arrested for biting people. 

He’s more animalistic since his death, he growls, snarls, and cackles demonically, not for show but just because he’s been given the freedom to so.

Absolutely LOVES Elsewhere, he loves everything about it. The food, the people, the atmosphere. He misses Elsewhere when it was in constant Midnight, but he loved current Elsewhere as well when the new look was pitched to Nox. Did he suffer from constant eyestrain yes but beauty is pain. 

Honestly despite him dying (weird how he had to die in order to live forever), this was the best thing that happened him and he does not regret it one bit!

He gets along with the rest of the demons well but he really likes keeping to himself, it’ hard having to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. When he does spend time with the others it will most likely be with Ego or Lux. 

Con, Lux, Ego, and Lady Luck have never had the displeasure of having/being imprisoned in Nowhere.

Honestly this man has never been better now that he can’t die. Yay, no death! Crisis averted! Well for now at least but that’s future Con’s problem. 

Con likes to steal, he can’t keep his hands off of shiny things to save his life, this is mainly why he managed to join mafia groups because of his sneaky fingers. 

Still steals in Elsewhere but it’s petty theft because he’s spiteful like that. He’ll steal your entire stationary set if you so much as forget to give him his favorite pen back-  “IT WAS A GIFT FROM NOX YOU FUCK’EN DICK’EAH, GIV’ET BACK!”

As low on the profile he is in fieldwork, this man is the most unhinged out of the six. If Nox is so much as lightly irritated one word would set Con to completely destroy his targets. Man is unhinged he’ll bite and rip out your jugular if you were so much as an inconvenience. 

Nox offered immortality and Con gave his soul away, forever loyal and grateful for the devil who granted his only wish.

Out of all his demons, Con was the only one that Nox trusted when it came to loyalty, he won’t admit that he might have grew attached to him because of it. But this is Nox we’re talking about after events of Chlorine he doesn’t even want to entertain, “human emotions”.

[zaph1337]

Monster Hunter Rating 39: Silver Rathalos, the Silver Sun

I got Monster Hunter Stories 2: Wings of Ruin for Christmas, and that was the spark I needed to start working on these again. With how long it’s been and with how much more experience I have with the games (I hadn’t even played Rise outside the demo when writing the previous ratings, and since then I’ve beaten Magnamalo in Rise), don’t expect my opinions to necessarily stay consistent with the reviews I’ve posted thus far. Other than that, though, these’ll be more of the same reviews you saw before, so I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you didn’t think Rathalos would get a second subspecies after Rathian did, then I don’t even know what to say. I mean, that might have been a possibility if Rathalos wasn’t basically the series mascot, but we don’t live in that timeline. I’m getting off track, so let’s just move on to talking about Silver Rathalos!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Freedom 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter World: Iceborne)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise: Sunbreak)

Appearance: The problem with silver as a color is that unless you deliberately make it look metallic, it just looks like grey, and what should be flashy then becomes boring. From what I’ve seen, whether this is the case with Silver Rathalos or not depends on the game. Unfortunately, not only does it compete with Gold Rathian’s impressive appearance, it also competes with Azure Rathalos, which, in my opinion, beats it without even trying. Even the regular variety of Rathalos looks better than the silver kind unless the latter is shiny enough, so I’m going to give this a 7/10.

Behavior/Lore: Much like Gold Rathian, Silver Rathalos are the apex predators of any habitat that doesn’t have Elder Dragons in it, and even then, they’ll fight such godlike beasts without fear, and sometimes even to a draw--and that’s just when they’re fighting on their own! Silver Rathalos can call their golden mates to their side with a single roar, and the two together can send an Elder Dragon running for its life--if it hasn’t lost it, that is.

It’s not surprising that Silver Rathalos are such a threat--they’re not only stronger and more aggressive than other Rath subspecies, they’re smarter, too; they kinda have to be, considering the monsters they compete with for living space. Yet, for some reason, the Hunter’s Guild (of which region, I don’t know) looked at such a dominant beast and decided “hey, we can make a killing by making people fight these things in special events,” so they go out and capture Silver Rathalos to make Hunters fight them in an Arena. Now, all this is coming from a single sentence on the Silver Rathalos’ wiki page, so its credibility is dubious, but if it’s true. then the people who decided on this course of action are either dumb as dirt or very, very prepared for a dragonic tantrum.

Normally I wouldn’t be a big fan of a subspecies just being “the monster you know but stronger and meaner,” but the fact that Silver Rathalos can hold off Elder Dragons, the legendary Pokemon of the MH world, leaves an impression that earns it some points. The guild’s potential dragon-napping is also interesting, though I still have some doubts about it. I’m giving this category a 7/10.

Abilities: Like the Azure Rathalos, Silver Rathalos have stronger versions of the normal variety’s attacks, but their attack patterns are unique; they prefer to use their tail for grounded attacks rather than bites or tackles, but prefer to attack from the air with agility that their red and blue versions can’t match. This allows them to corner their prey/opponents very quickly before unleashing a triad of fireballs. Interestingly, they can also use an ability once thought unique to Rathans: fiery explosions--though obviously the ones created by Silver Rathalos’ are much more powerful.

Thought they are intelligent, their aggressive temperament leads them to enter a rage more often than the other varieties, but they can also go even further and enter a mode called the “incandescent state,” which is marked by even more heightened aggression in their attacks. While this should leave them more open to attacks from smart opponents, the scales on a Silver Rathalos are incredibly tough--perhaps even metallic--so they can afford to get a bit sloppy. As durable as these scales are, they ironically may be responsible for the Silver Rathalos’ one shortcoming compared to the other subspecies (at least in the earlier titles): a heightened weakness to Thunder-element attacks, especially on their wings. God help this thing if it ticks off a Rajang (which is unfortunately very easy to do, to my knowledge).

As I said with the Azure Rathalos in this department, I appreciate how Silver Rathalos’ attacks aren’t so similar to regular Rathalos’ as to be identical. Their better understanding of tactics allows them to more effectively use the tools at their disposal, and said tools were already impressive; their specialized rage state and superior defense doesn’t hurt either. 7/10.

Equipment: As you’d expect, many of the weapons made from Silver Rathalos parts also have some Gold Rathian in them. Since I’m biased, we’ll start with the Insect Glaive from MHG/U--the Blossomajesty:

This makes good use of the gold and silver parts. I like how the “blunt” end of the glaive looks like a Gold Rathian’s tail, and the fact that the blade has little silver dragon wings is a cute touch to a weapon made from some of the most dangerous monsters in the series. The description reads “A legendary Fire Wyvern Insect Glaive. Fly through the air on golden wings of fire,” and with how the Insect Glaive plays, I think that tracks. Next up is another example of a gold and silver weapon, the Expert Hammer, also from MHG/U:

Okay, so there’s more Gold Rathian than Silver Rathalos in this, but still. I question why the chains are there, considering the halves of the hammer are screwed into the handle and the chains don’t look like they do anything stability-wise, but the weapon overall still looks cool. Finally, it’s about time I show off a weapon made from only Silver Rathalos parts, but since I like to have at least one really weird weapon in these things, you get the Hunting Horn from Frontier. The Rathians had bells on a flute, while the Rathalos’ have:

A saxophone. A freakin’ saxophone made out of the scales of the MH mascot’s ultimate incarnation (to my knowledge, anyway). It even has parts of it that are directly modeled after Silver Rathalos just to hammer that fact in. God, I love this series sometimes. Onto the armor, let’s start with the Blademaster set from Freedom Unite:

It’s okay to make comparisons to Shredder, we all thought it too. These are both cool, and really let the wearer give off the powerful vibe you’d expect from someone who killed a massively powerful dragon to make them. I guess I also can’t complain about the chestpiece the woman’s wearing, since it doesn’t stick out much farther than the one the man’s wearing, so overall, these are a success. As for the Gunner set:

It’s... alright, I guess. It just doesn’t look as imposing as the Blademaster set. I actually can’t think of much more to say than that. The colors remind me too much of the standard knight armor to really help here.

Admittedly, rating these all is hard. The standard and azure equipment all look cool in their own ways, and to be fair, so do these! But the colors just don’t work for me as well as the others do. I feel like I’m supposed to like the equipment more than at least the ones for normal Rathalos, but I just...don’t. It’s not bad, it’s just not as good. It still gets a 7/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: For something that’s so much more powerful than the garden-variety Rathalos, my feelings on the Silver kind aren’t very different. I guess that’s to be expected from something so similar, but I feel like I’m wrong to not be more awed by these guys. Guess that’s an ish-me and not an issue, though; there’s nothing wrong with being a different flavor of the same cool. 7/10.

[giuliafc]

Why a Pinocchio ending to Miraculous wouldn't be right

Now...as you may know, I fought for a long time a battle with the acknowledgement that Adrien may have been a sentimonster. I didn't understand why at the time, but as the evidence kept piling in and especially after watching Ephemeral and Gabriel Agreste, I had to give in and admit that i too was convinced now that he indeed was a sentimonster. Risk has just proven me and all the people who had been convinced about it right eventually.

Now, one thing I have noticed among some people who have been shocked yesterday by getting the full confirmation that he was a sentimonster: people hoping that Marinette may manage somehow to save him and change him into a human being. Basically changing Miraculous into a modern life Pinocchio.

However, while Pinocchio is a beautiful fairy tale (almost a symbol of my country, which makes me love it even more), having Marinette do that would, in my personal opinion, destroy the message that Miraculous is trying to convey with the very fact of making Adrien a sentimonster.

I have read and seen pictures of the fact that Adrien, at the start of his conception as being ADRIEN and not Félix, had been depicted as disabled. He was walking with a stick, which when he transformed became his baton, and of course as Chat Noir he wasn't limping or needing support but when he wasn't transformed, he needed the stick to go around. This concept was rejected by the production because they felt that the writers wouldn't be able to handle it. But I think that what Astruc decided to do at that point was to change a physical disability into a MAGICAL disability. By making Adrien a sentimonster he has created for him an invisible disability and a vulnerability, which works in my mind because it's a metaphor.

First of all, based on the rules of Astruc's universe, there's NO DIFFERENCE between Adrien and a human. He's been made to be like a human and he is, indeed, that. The ONLY difference is that his living essence (soul or how you want to call it) is stored outside his body into an amok that has possessed his mother's wedding band (or at least this is what we think currently). This means that, as Astruc said, Adrien will be able to live a full life, grow up, get married, have children, grow old with the woman he loves and all. However, like Superman with cryptonite, Adrien has an Achille's heel. He's a sentimonster, which means that he needs to be VERY careful to what happens to the Peacock Miraculous AND to his mother's wedding band, because the first can cause his death "with the snap of a finger" and the latter can cause him to become a marionette in the hands of the person who holds it, and breaking the wedding band would mean for his amok to get out of it and him disappearing, again. Tricky, right? Have your life being held by such a delica--, uh, well, hang on a second.

Have you ever tried to break a ring? I had to (my wedding band had got too tight on my finger) and I must tell you that it's HARD. You need specialised items, and depending on what metal the ring is made of, you could need a bolt cutter and a professional intervention. Even classic rings made with gold or silver are hard to cut; you CAN cut them with household stuff like a small steel circular saw blade, but it's still not very easy. You could melt it (Lord of the Rings docet), but even that's something that usually only a professional would do. So a ring is *not* a delicate object. Yes, it can get lost, it CAN potentially be cut, but it's not something that can happen by accident. *Whoopsie* sorry, I broke your ring. Nope. Not gonna happen.

Besides: there's the problem of the Peacock of course and the fact that, in order to consider Adrien safe, the Peacock MUST be safe, either with him (so make him a double holder) or permanently inside the Miracle box and making sure it NEVER gets lost again, at least during his lifetime. Well, yes, there is, but keeping the Miraculous safe should anyway be Marinette's first priority as the Guardian: Fu lost the two Miraculouses once, but there's a reason why Su-Han wasn't impressed to find out that he had lost the jewels in the first place. They're objects that hold immense power, not toys! So keeping the Peacock safe should be a priority INDEPENDENTLY from whether Adrien is a sentimonster or not. Him being a sentimonster AND Marinette's love interest makes it even MORE important and so is choosing the RIGHT holder for it, because by giving it to ANYONE she would put Adrien's life at risk.

Now, as I was saying before, there have been theories around and some think that it would be beautiful if Marinette was going to change all of that and either use the wish or use her power of creation and love and make Adrien become human. Sweet in appearance, right? Not in my mind.

Now, here I need to let you know a little about my life. 9 years ago I had my first son. i was so happy, and like any mother in the world, from the second I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test i started having all those dreams about a normal life for my child, him studying, getting a diploma and a degree, finding a good job, maybe finding love in any kind or shape he chose (woman, man, alien...? whatever, as long as he's happy I don't care and I will respect his choices and love and make part of the family whoever he will decide to love), maybe if he chose to love a woman, have kids of his own...you get the drill. Two mere years later, I was faced with the massive rock on the head of a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder. I felt DEVASTATED. It took me A LOT of thought, and time, and reading about it, and talking to specialists and such to slowly starting to accept it. I still loved my son, and I've never stopped loving my son. But I had to face all stages of grief and deal with the fact that the idea of a son that I had created in my head when I saw the two lines on the stick wasn't REAL. That my son was different from what I thought he would be. I thought I had accepted it eventually and kept going on, until I was talking on the Internet with a person who was autistic, asking them how their life was, to get reassurance that maybe my son's life would be similar. And I was there telling this person that sometimes I wished that I was waking up one day and my son wasn't autistic anymore. That a magic spell could take his autism away and set him free.

That person told me off, not harshly, because he could see where I was coming from, but still told me off. We spoke for a long time and the essence of the conversation was that AUTISM IS PART OF WHAT MY SON REALLY IS. Autism isn't a parasite that has possessed my son and that needs to be cured or taken away. My son was BORN like that, and autism is the essence of his being. You can't take the autism away because you would CHANGE what my son is, you would MAKE HIM BECOME DIFFERENT. The way that he behaves, the way that he reacts, the beautiful and funny cherry bean that he is, all the things what make me LOVE him to bits, also come from the fact that he's autistic. By rejecting his autism I was REJECTING HIM, I wanted to change him. If one day he woke up and he wasn't autistic anymore he WOULDN'T BE HIMSELF anymore, he would be a different kid.

Being told that hurt me in the deepest. I got out of the conversation and had a very good thought about it that night, because I knew that this person was right. To love my son I had to accept him with all his baggage, including his autism, because his autism MADE HIM HIM.

Now you may be wondering why I'm saying all this stuff in a blog about Miraculous, taking about a cartoon character? because it's the exact same thing! Adrien is a sentimonster. That's part of his essence, it's who he is, he can't be detached from being that. If Marinette "used her love to make him become a human being" she would literally changing him. Change his essence and make him become something different.

No, I think it would be much more powerful if she didn't do that. It would be much more powerful if she was accepting him for what he was and loving him for what he was. let's say he would sacrifice himself for her and she would need to make him come back, as people say, using her power of creation and the "power of love always so strong". Wouldn't it be a fantastic message if, instead than making him become a huma being, she used her power to recreate his amok and ring and made him come back exactly like he was? And if someone (Gabriel? Félix?) told her that she was stupid, that she had had the opportunity to really make a change in his life and set him free by making him become human, she would answer saying that no, loving him by changing his essence isn't real love? That she loved and cherished him for what he really was and that meant also accepting him for being a sentimonster, and work the rest of her life to protect that, and protect him? Because he's perfect as he is, amok included, and it would mean making violence to his whole essence to change him into something that he's not? Wouldn't that make Adrien love her even more thinking that she's grown to accept him with his difference, as he really is, letting him BE who he really is, rather than doing what everybody else seems to be wanting to do and just try to make him be what THEY want him to be?

Now excuse me but I go cry in a corner. And I go nourishing this massive plot bunny that has started screaming in my dungeons since I accepted this reality, and maybe one day I will write this story, especially if this won't be the message that Miraculous will want to portray.

[jackoshadows]

what i don’t understand is sansa stans who insist that she learnt from the best (cersei ans littlefinger) and so she’ll be an amazing ruler and player. first of all, when did she learn about the game from cersei? she was a hostage in kings landing, she wasn’t sitting in on small council meetings or anything and cersei definitely wasn’t telling her about all the moves she was making. the only time cersei really gives her ‘advice’ is during blackwater when she says that ‘tears/sex is a woman’s weapon’. regardless, cersei isn’t someone you want to be taught from, she makes terrible decision after terrible decision in affc. (since we’re on this topic, dany is the younger and more beautiful queen who foils cersei).

as for littlefinger, he’s definitely not a leader or ruler. he subtly manipulates things here and there and gets away with a lot of it because he stays under the radar. he’s not someone who inspires devotion for sure. nothing about the vale arc in affc puts sansa in an actual leadership position.

I agree it's best that no one learns how to be a ruler from Cersei Lannister, considering how much she messes up in AFfC.

And yes, it’s my opinion that Sansa's arc is leading towards outwitting Littlefinger and understanding how to play the game rather than ruling. And with two books left to go, she still has a lot of learning to do and being able to process the information available to her, analyze it and connect the dots and use the data to her advantage.

I just finished my ADwD and TWoW sample chapter re-reads so a rather long essay under the cut.

Sansa did acknowledge early on that unlike Cersei, if she were to become queen, she would prioritize getting the people's love over their fear - like the Tyrells did. But unlike the majority opinion of fandom, I think that this points to Sansa giving more importance to PR than to actual ruling. That it was better to be a loved monarch than a feared one.

It’s funny that Sansa stans often point the finger at Dany as being narcissistic, entitled and arrogant, when the few comments that Sansa makes about being queen revolve around her.

“Go ahead, call me all the names you want,” Sansa said airily. “You won’t dare when I’m married to Joffrey. You’ll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace. ” - Sansa, AGoT

“ If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.”  - Sansa, ACoK

Compare her quotes to those of current leaders/rulers in the books:

A good lord protects his people, he reminded himself. - Bran, ACoK

“Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?“ - Daenerys, ASoS

“And I know that a king protects his people, or he is no king at all.” Davos, ASoS

I was trying to win the throne to save the kingdom, when I should have been trying to save the kingdom to win the throne."  - Stannis, ASoS

“I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord— what are these wildlings, if not men?”  - Jon Snow, ADwD

The other leaders in the quotes are putting the people first, prioritizing the people’s needs first no matter how much it affects the rulers themselves. Jon’s decision to let the Wildlings through the wall is necessary, but highly unpopular among his men. And ruling is more than just being beloved by the people -

"Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel,” the old man had said, “the same council that I one gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took the ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill boy and let the man be born.” The old man felt Jon’s face. “You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.” - Jon Snow, ADwD

This is the hard part of ruling be it in the middle ages or now. It’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler. It’s complicated and it’s hard.  How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about  the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. - GRRM

In this context, Sansa’s quote about being queen comes off as naive, ignorant, fairy taleish, like the queens in her stories - where everyone loves the queens and that’s all that’s necessary to be one.

It’s easy for Sansa stans to nitpick and criticize each and every one of Dany’s decisions and then praise future best queen Sansa - who has done absolutely nothing as a leader and has instead thus far served as an uncritical narrator to events around her. We don’t know what kind of leader Sansa would be because she has never been put in those situations or even shown an aptitude for strategic thinking.

Let me use an example I came across while recently re-reading ADwD and TWoW sample chapters. TWoW spoilers - if you don’t want to be spoiled on TWoW, please read no further.

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

In ADwD, Jon is confronted with food shortage if they let the Wildlings through the wall:

“If we had sufficient coin, we could buy food from the south and bring it in by ship,” the Lord Steward said. We could, thought Jon, if we had the gold, and someone willing to sell us food. Both of those were lacking. Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. - Jon Snow, ADwD

I have already written extensively on Jon’s political know-how of the North and using it in his strategizing and planning of Stannis’ campaign. But here we see that his knowledge extends to the south, where, knowing that the Vale stayed neutral during the WOT5K and it’s geography of being fertile, he sees it as a possible source to buy food for the Wall.

Now let’s go to the Vale in book 6, TWoW, Alayne’s sample chapter. After being called a bastard by Harry the Heir, a hurt Sansa goes looking for Littlefinger and chances upon a scheme of price gouging:

Near the bottom, she heard Lord  Grafton’s booming voice, and followed.

“The  merchants are clamoring to buy and the lords are clamoring to sell,”  the Gulltowner was saying when she found them. Though not a tall man, Grafton was wide, with thick arms and shoulders.  His hair was a dirty blond mop.  “How am I to stop that, my lord?”

“Post guardsmen on the docks. If need be, seize the ships. How does not matter, so long as no food leaves the Vale”

“These prices, though,” protested fat Lord Belmore,” 

“These prices are more than fair. Wait. If need be, buy the food yourself and keep it stored. Winter is coming. Prices must go higher.”

“Perhaps,”  said Belmore, doubtfully. “Bronze Yohn will not wait, ” Grafton complained. “He need not ship through Gulltown, he has his own ports. Whilst we are hoarding our harvest, Royce and the other Lords Declarant will turn theirs into silver, you may be sure of that.”

“Let  us hope so,”  said Petyr. “When their granaries are empty, they will  need every scrap of that silver to buy sustenance from us. And now if  you will excuse me, my lord, it would seem my daughter has need of me.”

“Lady Alayne,” Lord Grafton said. “You look bright-eyed this morning.” ” You  are kind to say so, my lord. Father, I am sorry to disturb you, but I  thought you would want to know that the Waynwoods have arrived.”

We are now in book 6 territory, this would be the point where a future queen/leader Sansa reflects on what she just saw - Littlefinger is hoarding grain and letting Royce and others sell theirs so that he can later increase the prices for demand from a starving populace and have the rest of the Vale Lords be dependent on him and with winter coming, there is currently much demand for the grain.

This would be where, if GRRM is writing for the future leader of the North, Sansa would wonder what is happening in the North with respect to the food situation since she just heard that merchants are clamoring for grain and winter is coming. Or she would think on LF’s scheme - is it a good plan or a bad plan? Does she think that Yohn Royce is right to sell his grain? What is her view on hoarding all the food for price gouging while people possibly starve elsewhere? What does she think of starving the populace for profit? Does she approve? Or does she think it’s ethically wrong?

We get no answers to these questions to give us a hint of what kind of ruler future best queen Sansa will be. It’s a blank slate because while Sansa acts as a narrator here and describes one of LF’s little schemes, she herself as no opinion on it. Instead Sansa’s immediate concern when speaking to Littlefinger is that Harry the Heir called her a bastard in front of everyone. Meanwhile Dany in ADwD:

Skahaz had been named Warden of the River, with charge of all the ferries, dredges, and irrigation ditches along the Skahazadhan for fifty leagues, but the Shavepate had refused that ancient and honorable office, as Hizdahr called it, preferring to retire to the modest pyramid of Kandaq.

Mounted men were of more use in open fields and hills than in the narrow streets and alleys of the city. Beyond Meereen's walls of many-colored brick, Dany's rule was tenuous at best. Thousands of slaves still toiled on vast estates in the hills, growing wheat and olives, herding sheep and goats, and mining salt and copper. Meereen's storehouses held ample supplies of grain, oil, olives, dried fruit, and salted meat, but the stores were dwindling. So Dany had dispatched her tiny khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, under the command of her three bloodriders, whilst Brown Ben Plumm took his Second Sons south to guard against Yunkish incursions.

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need …

The sea provides all the salt that Qarth requires, but I would gladly take as many olives as you cared to sell me. Olive oil as well."

"I have none to offer. The slavers burned the trees." Olives had been grown along the shores of Slaver's Bay for centuries; but the Meereenese had put their ancient groves to the torch as Dany's host advanced on them, leaving her to cross a blackened wasteland. "We are replanting, but it takes seven years before an olive tree begins to bear, and thirty years before it can truly be called productive. What of copper?"

Sansa does not come anywhere close to Dany and Jon in terms of leadership and that she’s so often pushed as this future queen in fandom, including by bnfs and so called asoiaf experts, is baffling, frustrating and hilarious.

What, if any, attributes does Sansa have to even be a peacetime ruler? After the war means rebuilding from scratch, making deals, hard bargaining, strategizing, using political tools, rebuilding the economy for war torn lands, get in the food, grow the food - precisely the kind of thing Dany is doing in Meereen. Or Jon thinking of building green houses in the Gift to grow food.

But Sansa building a snow model of Winterfell means that she’s the best qualified peace time ruler? Reddit dudebros and so called tumblr feminists united in wanting female characters who wield soft power and uphold the patriarchy as future rulers.

Even when it comes to personal growth, while Sansa has come a long way from her AGoT days, she still has some catching up to do with her peers. After getting hold of LF, Sansa complains that Harry is a horrible person for calling her a bastard.

Come,” Petyr said, “walk with me.” He took her by the arm and led her deeper into the vaults, past an empty dungeon. “And how was your first meeting with Harry the Heir?”

“He’s horrible.”

“The world is full of horrors, sweet. By now you ought to know that. You’ve seen enough of them.”

“Yes,” she said, “but why must he be so cruel? He called me your bastard. Right in the yard, in front of everyone.”

Now, personally, this is the point where I would like some introspection from Sansa. Remember when Sansa called out Jon as a jealous bastard in front of her friends in AGoT and Arya defended him?

Sansa sighed as she stitched.  “Poor Jon,” she said.  “He gets jealous because he's a bastard.”

“He’s our brother,” Arya said, much too loudly. Her voice cut through the afternoon quiet of the tower room.

“Our half brother,” Sansa corrected, soft and precise. - Arya, AGoT

Considering the way Sansa ignored Joffrey’s attack on Arya, it’s a good bet that if Harry the Heir had called out Jon Snow as a bastard in front of everyone in AGoT, Sansa would not have an issue with it. Now that she is being insulted as one, she gets to experience the hurt that Jon felt everyday growing up in Winterfell as a real bastard.

But even here, she refuses to scrutinize the situation more than simply getting angry at being called a bastard. Sansa is often held up as this compassionate, kindest person, ‘beacon of hope for the future’, a queen who cares for the masses etc. But where is her questioning why the classist prejudice against bastards is in itself wrong?

She is angry that she is being called a bastard, she is not angry that bastards are treated as less than. She doesn’t question the societal prejudice against bastards, only angry that she has to pretend to be one and be insulted as one. She doesn’t spare a second reflecting on her bastard brother Jon Snow or question her low opinion of bastards:

Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother had been common, or so people whispered. Once, when she was littler, Sansa had even asked Mother if perhaps there hadn’t been some mistake. - Sansa, AGoT

And that’s the difference I see between Sansa and characters like Dany, Arya, Jon, Brienne and even with Tyrion and Penny. While GRRM interrogates Westerosi society prejudices, feudalism, classism, sexism, slavery, ableism, bigotry, the effects of war on the small folk etc with these other characters, Sansa rarely reflects on these issues. That’s why it makes no sense when epithets like ‘embodiment of hope for the future’ is used to describe the character. Hope for whom? The small folk? The patriarchy? The feudal lords?

Sansa being nice to people like the stuttering Ser Wallace is held up as her being the kindest ever. But Jon is nice to Shireen, Arya is kind to Weasel, Jaime is kind to Tyrion. Why is kindness and compassion only highlighted for Sansa, like some unique feature of hers when many characters, even the villains, exhibit kindness?

This is Jon Snow in ADwD

“I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?” He laughed. “If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood.”

“My name is Snow.”

“Bastard.”

“Guilty. Of that, at least.”  - Jon Snow, ADwD

This is Sansa Stark in TWoW:

Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. “Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger’s bastard?”  

“Yes,” she said, “but why must he be so cruel? He called me your bastard. Right in the yard, in front of everyone.”  - Alayne, TWoW

Sansa in TWoW is as hurt by the bastard moniker as Jon Snow was in AGoT when addressed as such by Tyrion. She’s emotionally where Jon Snow was in AGoT, while Jon has matured enough to not care for such insults anymore. And this is book 6! I guess it makes sense considering Jon is 16 -17 and Sansa would be 13 - 14 years old, making her younger than him in AGoT. But this is why the whole ‘Jon should take Sansa’s advice to rule because she’s the smartest ever!’ trash the show pushed to hype up Sansa is complete nonsense.

I don’t know how many chapters GRRM will be devoting to Sansa in the Vale in TWoW, but there’s still a lot of growth and character development pending for book Sansa. As I have always said, Sansa has a lot of information but she rarely if ever introspects on what she has heard and seen. She knows that LF last had Jeyne Poole but at one point wonders where Jeyne Poole is... Just ask LF dammit! She knows that Lysa had Jon Arryn poisoned on LF’s say so and knows that SweetRobin is being dosed with dangerous levels of Sweetsleep and that LF is banking on his death and yet thinks that SweetRobin will be okay. She needs to start putting two and two together to come up with four and I suspect that in itself will take up the whole of TWoW.

So will Sansa become any kind of queen or ruler? No. If she survives the books, I can see her being Lady of the Vale and be moving the chess pieces around. I can see her gaining agency and maybe even be the real power in the Vale aka Littefinger. Just like Jon, Arya, Bran and Dany I think Sansa will be a darker character in TWoW. The game of thrones cannot be played honorably and she will need to get her hands dirty to outwit LF and take him down at his own game.

The point where Sansa simply stops narrating what she sees and actually starts analyzing what she sees in her POV chapters is when the student will become the master and I am excited to see that happening.

[squishmallow36]

Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Twenty-one

Word count: 2.2k

Tw: canon-typical violence

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @ichor-on-my-hands @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @snowflakewolves @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @books-over-boys @florida-llama-46 @when-wax-wings-melt @k00laidcrush @bowlcut-boyfriends @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizznee @jamesdeangf

On Ao3 or below the cut!

    “Why do you think I would know what to do?”

    “I don’t know! I just thought you might have some idea of what he just did!”

    “Maybe you shouldn’t have knocked Alvar out!”

    “You should be glad that he’s only unconscious!” 

    Another tremor shakes the ground as another building collapses. 

    “Wait a minute…” I mutter. 

    “I don’t think we have a minute!” Fitz argues, running toward the building.

    “What are you doing?” I demand, chasing after him. 

    “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

    “I don’t know! Trying to get yourself killed?” 

    Fitz stops abruptly, and I almost run into him. 

    “Care to explain?” I ask, and Fitz points to a silver vein running through the building ahead of us. 

    I brush my fingers against the silvery metal and, thankfully, it doesn’t spontaneously combust.

    I see a small piece on the ground, and, so, to try to figure out what it is, I pick it up. 

    One of the best ways to identify an unknown material is using its density. I’ve done it a few times in the store when I happened to forget to label something.

    This is much easier when I can measure the mass and volume using measurements other than ‘this feels kinda heavy’ and eyeballing the size. 

    Yes, I know the difference between mass and weight. But considering that gravity will pull on an object with more mass more than an object with less mass, I think it’s safe to assume that using weight as a measure of mass while staying on the same planet will not be too problematic.

    I walk over to a building that has already collapsed nearby and break off a piece as similarly sized as I can manage. 

    The silver piece, which I know is not made of silver, because that is basically half as dense as gold, is heavier than the gold, but not significantly so. If an object is heavier than a similarly sized object, then the former object must be more dense.

    Because that’s what the equation says.

    “Fitz?”

    “Yeah?”

    Giving him the two pieces, I ask, “Which one is heavier?” 

    I know he isn’t going to be a perfect scale, but a second opinion is better before I start formulating.

    “I don’t know. They almost feel the same,” he replies, with minimal time to even consider it.

    “Which one is heavier?” I ask again.

    “This one, I guess,” he responds, “why?”

    “I’m thinking that, assuming it is a pure element, like the gold from which it must have come, it must be an element that is more dense, which I think there are I want to say six. Iridium and Osmium are both debated as to which one is the densest, and the elements in that row of the periodic table are the densest ones. That means that this could be hafnium, tungsten, rhenium, osmium, iridium, or platinum. Not all of them are more dense than gold, but they’re some of the closest, and I don’t have a periodic table to check their densities.”

    I stop when I notice Fitz’s confusion and when I take a breath, he says, “Let’s pretend I know what that means.”

    I mentally take a few steps back, possibly a little too far, but, just in case, I start at the beginning.

    “In your alchemy class, there is a periodic table with about a hundred forty-seven elements, give or take a few depending on the version. It usually hangs on the wall and is in the textbook most of the time.”

    “I’ve seen that. Don’t humans have one?”

    “Yeah, just with a few less elements. We probably gave Mendeleev the idea. Anyway, the middle part, known as the Transition Metals, starts with Scandium, Titanium, Vanadium, and so on and so forth. The third period of it has the densest elements.”

    “I think I know what you’re talking about.”

    “The third period of the transition metals, not including the lanthanides because nobody cares about them, has the elements Hafnium, Tungsten, Rhenium, Osmium, Iridium, Platinum, Gold, and Mercury.”

    “How on Earth do you remember that?”

    I look at him incredulously before saying, “My dad’s literally an alchemist. I could draw a periodic table in my sleep at six. Considering that this is both silvery and a solid, that means it can’t be gold or mercury.”

    “That...actually makes sense.”

    “Now, the question is what happened. There are a few ways to transmute one metal to another, but most of them require alchemical means. Think Ruckleberries purifying iron.”

    A smile flicks across his expression before simply stating, “I’m not sure how helpful this is, but I thought it looked like Alvar used telekinesis.”

    “That’s what I thought too…” I trail off for a second, the beginnings of a hypothesis swirling around in my brain before it clicks. “Wait—would that even be possible?” I whisper.

    “Fitz. If my brain is correct—”

    Fitz interrupts, “Which is more often than not…”

    “That’s debatable.” I retort, “But we have to get out of here.”

    “What?” 

    “You heard me” I snap, grabbing Fitz’s wrist and running.

    I’m not the most athletic person, and Fitz manages to release his wrist from my death grip and pulls ahead of me.

    I channel more energy into my legs, trying to keep up, but my foot catches on a loose paver and I narrowly avoid falling on my face by levitating myself half an inch above the ground.

    Thanks, Exilium! 

    “You okay?” Fitz asks, apparently having been keeping an eye on me.

    “I think so” I reply, climbing back up to my feet.

    I shift a little bit of my weight onto the foot that got caught, and it groans in protest. 

    I hobble a few more steps forward before conceding that I’m not going to be able to keep up this pace. 

    “I’m not leaving you here,” Fitz says as I lower myself back down to the ground, leaning against the remains of an already collapsed structure, which, in hindsight, was probably not a great place to stop considering that there was a large silvery vein running through it.

    Fitz pulls out his home crystal, and tries to create a beam of light, muttering “Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” 

    The key word there is ‘tries’ because the sky has become too ashy with particles of pretty much everything you would rather not breathe to allow enough light in for a reliable beam. A nexus would probably work, but light poisoning would still be a significant possibility, and I don’t have one nor any idea of how to make one. 

    Fitz, putting away his home crystal, asks, “So why did we just have to run?” 

    I’m still trying to catch my breath. What can you say? I don’t go outside much. 

    “There’s only one form of transmutation that fits the description.” I pause, taking a breath, which was apparently enough time for Fitz to ask another question.

    “Which is...?”

    “Radioactive decay. It isn’t covered much in class because it is the most dangerous and one of the most limited forms of transmutation”

    “Never heard of it,” Fitz replies, to no one’s surprise. 

    “It was probably a passing reference somewhere in Second or Third Level alchemy. No matter, there are a few different ways it can work. First up, alpha radiation. Releases an alpha particle, basically a Helium atom without any electrons, and can be stopped by something as thin as a piece of paper. Then there’s beta radiation, which can either be a positron or electron launched from the nucleus, which I think occurs because a proton or neutron is changed into the other one because of one of the weak force carrying bosons. I don’t remember which one.”

    “Wait, what?” Fitz asks.

    “There are four fundamental forces of the universe. The weak force is carried by specific particles known as W plus or minus and Z. I really hope that that answers your question because it’s all I know. There’s also gamma radiation. This usually occurs after one of the other types, when a gamma ray is released when the daughter particle falls from a higher energy state to a lower energy state.” I pause, letting that sink in for a few seconds. 

    “That’s a lot of information,” Fitz remarks. 

    I smile evilly. “But wait, there’s more. Because I don’t know how gold usually decays we get to cover the other two I remember, which are less common. First, there is proton emission, which should explain itself. And finally, there is electron capture where an electron falls into the nucleus, changes a proton into a neutron and an x-ray is released as it goes back to where it should be.”

    Fitz rubs his temples before muttering, “Why do you know all of this?” 

    Before realising that it was a rhetorical question I reply, “I had a lot of free time in Level One and I ate lunch with my alchemy mentor. I picked up a few things.” 

    “I have a dumb question. If gold can do this,” he waved his arms around, referring to the city, or rather, the lack of one, around us, “why is the entire city built out of it?” 

   “Because normal everyday gold isn’t radioactive. But, there are so many different rare isotopes most of which are radioactive—“

    Fitz interrupts, “Another dumb question. What’s an isotope?”

    I bury my head in my hands. How did Fitz ever pass alchemy? No, really. How in the world did he ever pass?

    I take a deep breath and explain, “Isotopes are atoms that have the same number of protons, so they’re the same element, but differing numbers of neutrons. As I was saying, most isotopes of gold are radioactive, considering the fact that the average atomic weight is pretty close to 200, which is heavy for an atom, and heavy atoms tend to be less stable. The radioisotopes probably have really short half lives for the most part, but there must have been some small traces of some of them, and, well, apparently something made normally stable gold do this.”

    I wave my hands around to refer to Gulidingham crumbling around us.

    Fitz’s jaw clenches, and he growls, “That something was named Alvar.”

    I whisper, “yeah,” not wanting to get Wonderboy angrier.

    It”s more or less drowned out by the sound of another building coming down.

    Fitz says, “Tell me if this is wrong. Alpha radiation loses two protons, and the other forms lose one, right? So isn’t the silver the element before or the one before that?”

    “Take note that it is not actually the element silver. Except for one of the beta decays, which actually gain a proton, you got the idea. It would make sense, but there could be a chain of short-lived isotopes, so it may or may not work that way unfortunately.”

    “That sounds worse,” Fitz remarks.

    “That’s because, in general, it is. Not only is gamma radiation more likely in a chain like that, but, with each step in the chain, it releases more energy and, or, particles, and the more things flying around, the more damage is done to our DNA every second that we stay here.”

    Fitz tries pulling out his Imparter, which has no signal, unsurprisingly.

    “Can you Technopath around and fix this?” he asks after attempting to fix it himself.

    Which is smacking it until it works. It isn’t a very successful method. 

    “Yes, let me clear the sky so that it can connect to the rest of the system.”

    I hadn’t noticed how much darker it had gotten since Fitz tried to leap us out of here, and how much more often buildings are collapsing.

    As I’m thinking, a building very near to us collapses, blocking our path out of here. I’m sure Fitz is cursing colourfully in his head right about now.

    After halfheartedly kicking the debris from that building a couple of times, Fitz sits down next to me mostly because he has no better options. 

    Attempting to put his legs out in front of him, his left leg obviously protesting against that, Fitz pulls it in and starts massaging his knee. 

    I take my jacket off, partially because Fitz is mere inches from me and thus I am blushing from head to toe, but also because I’m trying to be helpful. Mostly that. 

    I take all of the different gadgets out, finding and eating a slightly melted hershey kiss, much to Fitz’s dismay, because now he probably thinks I eat my gadgets. Once I double check there’s no more candy, or gadgets, I guess, in there, I fold it up and offer it to Wonderboy.

    “Here, cushioning will probably help, just don’t ask me to spell it.”

    Fitz takes my jacket begrudgingly and places it under his knee. When he tries to straighten his knee again, I can see the tension in his face relax, although I’m also fairly sure he’s trying to hide it. 

    An idea has started coalescing in my head, and I usually talk to myself when that happens, so I ask, “Do you mind if I think out loud?”

    Fitz replies, "Why not. You’re going to have to explain whatever it is you’re thinking to me eventually.”

[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[a-simple-imagine]

Look Pretty

Requested by anonymous: “Would you please write something with Hermione x reader where they are at slug horns party and the reader is trying to help Hermione escape Cormac and the two are dancing around their feelings for each other or something?”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 4k

A/N - I’m not sure how i feel about this one tbh but I hope you enjoy it

You had never been one for parties; large social gatherings where people just stood around and talked? What exactly was fun about that. You'd much rather spend your evening in the common room but alas you find yourself stood before a full-length mirror inspecting your outfit for any imperfections. It was considered a privilege to be invited to Slughorn's Christmas party; it was only for esteemed guests and high achieving students. Each student was also supposed to bring a date; this could be anyone the student saw fit. High achiever or not. After some convincing from Hermione, you had agreed to attend the party but now your nerves had you feeling like you could throw up. Outfit number five was beginning to look worse by the second and you wanted nothing more than to just snuggle up in your bed. Y/E/C eyes stare back at you and a defeated sigh slips past your lips. How you wished Ginny or Hermione were here to fight your doubts with their uplifting compliments. Maybe you should change? The first outfit you tried on had been nice.

"How much longer are you going to be?" An impatient Harry Potter calls out to you; it was surprising that his voice carried so well from the common room. Then again, it was rather quiet this evening. With one final glance over your chosen items of clothing, you reluctantly commit to outfit number 5. With a quick spray of something flowery as a finishing touch, you descend the stairs to join your fellow wizard.

"Calm down, Harry. I didn't know you were in such a rush."

"I'm not," He turns around just as you reach the bottom step, his smile beginning to fade. "I just never expected you to take so long- you look nice."

"Really?" You look over yourself with a grimace. It didn't feel nice. "I'm not too sure I like it anymore. Maybe I should have worn something else."

"I honestly think you look lovely," He assures you with the kindest of smiles. Such a genuine boy, you have no reason to doubt him.

"Then thank you," It was hard not to feel a little embarrassed. "You look... rather dashing yourself, Mr. Potter," His dress robes were nothing to write home about but they suited him well; sleek black paired with a reddish shirt and a black bow tie.

"Shall we head out?" Harry holds out his arm in offering to which you gladly accept. Looping your arm through his before leaving the Gryffindor common room together.

It was a pleasant evening as the two of you wandered through the corridors. The quiet corridors a stark contrast to the normal hustle and bustle of Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry. You rather liked how peaceful it seemed. The looks of strangers, on the other hand, you didn't appreciate. Don't these students have better things to do?

"So who did you end up inviting to the party?" Harry asks, relieving you of your increasing self-consciousness that came with the silence.

"No one," Your first choice hadn't been available so why bother with another. It just seemed like an unnecessary task. "Everyone had dates already- Who did you ask?"

You knew whoever it was they were just a substitute for who he really wanted to go with. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have agreed to let you tag along. "Luna,"

"Loony Lovegood?" It was a nickname that often drifted around the castle for the unique Ravenclaw. And not always with the nicest intentions but she welcomed it like it wasn't supposed to be an insult which you found rather intriguing. "interesting choice."

"I wasn't sure who to ask, honestly." He defends his choice. Harry Potter was the chosen one, he could have invited just about any girl to this party and they probably would have said yes. Not to mention that you had overheard that Romilda Vane was hoping he would ask her. She's basically obsessed with him. "And she's my friend so why not?"

"Oh it wasn't an insult- I actually adore how weird she is," Perhaps Harry had been wise to bring his eccentric friend; she'd surely liven up any dull party with her unique tales. "She's like the perfect dinner guest."

You look to him from the corner of your eye wondering what exactly he is thinking. You probably would have asked him if he hadn't already arranged to go with Luna. "You should have just asked Hermione," Harry says after a moment bringing a sour taste to your mouth. Your relationship with Hermione could be easily summed up in one word; Complicated. She was one of your best friends and you wouldn't change that for the world but you also couldn't deny that you had begun harbouring feelings for her as well. "She would have said yes."

With a heavy sigh, you let your arm drop from around his. From the moment you heard about the Christmas party, you had been under the assumption that you'd go with Hermione But when the time came to actually ask her, Harry informed you that she had a date already. Which was fine. She was allowed to go with whomever she likes. "How do you know?"

You hadn't expected to sound so bitter but it couldn't be helped. His shoulder bumps against yours and you weren't sure if it was intentional or not. "Call it a feeling."

"You know what potter? I don't remember asking for your opinion," you huff defensively, storming off just a few steps ahead. "You can't talk anyway- why isn't Ginny your date tonight?"

"Why would Ginny be my date?" You have to stop yourself from laughing. He couldn't be serious. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that he had a thing for the Weasley girl and honestly who could blame him; Ginny was a talented young witch, very smart and beautiful.

"It doesn't take a genius to work out you have a thing for her." You continue with a roll of your eyes. "I know it. Hermione and Ron know it. Everyone knows it- even slug club thanks to you making a fool of yourself during that dinner party."

"I didn't make a fool of myself."

"You did though," You chuckle, thinking back to the night in question. It was a slug club dinner party and Ginny had shown up late. She may as well not have come at all considering you were eating dessert by the time she arrived. Hermione suggested it was because of Dean and you wouldn't be surprised if that was true. "You basically leapt out of the chair, Harry. It was really awkward to watch."

"I was just being polite," You highly doubted that. "And she is with Dean anyway so I suspect they'll be attending together."

"I guess... Dean's cute but Hermione says they're always fighting," Extra emphasis on the always. It wasn't really any of your business but as a close personal friend to the youngest Weasley, it was hard not to get involved. "You two, however," you glance towards the chosen one in all his glory. You come to a stop before him, adjusting his crooked tie so it sat perfectly straight. "Would make quite the pair."

All talks of crushes were lost among the wind as you rounded the corner almost crashing into the young Ravenclaw that stood waiting patiently. Catching yourself before the collision, you take a few steps back. "Hey Luna," Her outfit could not scream Luna Lovegood more if it tried; it was silver and reflective. "Don't you look... shiny."

"Thank you," Had you meant that as a compliment? You weren't too sure but she took it as one. Falling behind, you listen to Luna’s ramblings during the short walk left to Slughorn's office. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings which resembled a tent. There were way too many people here for your liking which made it awfully hot and stuffy. You almost instantly found yourself alone within the crowd feeling terribly awkward.

When with friends like Harry, Ron and Hermione, you could talk forever given half the chance. But being put into a situation surrounded by complete strangers and you'd freeze up; it was hard talking to people you either didn't know at all or only saw in passing. Hiding away in the corner of the room, you search the room for someone you knew. You spotted Neville walking around offering drinks to the guest from his silver Tray. Ginny was halfway through a conversation with Dean; thankfully she seemed to be smiling. Meanwhile, Snape was looking very bored as Slughorn drones on about one thing or another. You never expected to see Snape here but apparently he had been a past member of the Slug Club. No surprise there considering he went on to teach potions. After what felt like a lifetime of standing awkwardly on the sidelines, you finally spotted Mr. Potter just outside the makeshift walls. "I told you not to leave me alone with these people," You whisper-yell as you push the fabric aside. Harry seems surprised by your sudden interruption but all attention has turned to his companion. It was none other than Hermione Granger in a little pink dress; she looked beautiful even as she shoved something into her mouth. "What are you two doing?"

"Hermione is hiding from Cormac," Harry answers, signalling towards the other girl with a flick of his wrist.

"McLaggen? That's who you came with?" Cormac McLaggen, in your less than favourable opinion, was as sleazy as they come. He had shown interest in Hermione but she had never shown any in return. So why had she chosen him over you?

"I didn't have a lot of other options," you share a look with Harry who looked almost sympathetic towards the situation. He was the only one who knew that you had planned to ask her and was also the one to crush your dreams. "Oh god, he's coming over here," She quickly reaches for your hand which brings heat rushing to your cheeks. "Come with me,"

Following her lead, you crouch down and allow her to drag you back into the crowd leaving Harry to deal with McLaggen. "Why are you here with him if you don't even like him?"

"Because he actually asked me." Her words felt like they were directed at you but maybe you were just trying to make something out of nothing. You wanted to tell her that you had planned to ask her from the start but you don't. Now safely on the other side of the room, her hands slip away from yours. "But he's so bothersome. I don't think I can put up with it much longer."

It was her fault but again you keep that to yourself. "Why did you drag me along? I'm not trying to avoid him."

"As a distraction so look pretty." Look pretty? Before you can ask what exactly she meant by that, her hands are against your arms, spinning you around quickly to face a rather irritated McLaggen. This didn't feel right but it was too late to pretend you hadn't seen him now.

"What am I supposed to say?" Your whispers for advice are ignored or more accurately unheard. This conversation was destined to be very awkward.

"Where'd she run off to now?" He comes to a stop before you, running his hand through his dusty blonde hair.

"Who?" He had obviously meant Hermione. But it seemed you were running on autopilot as the word drifted off your lips before you even had a chance to think. He probably thought you were rather idiotic now but then again did you care what this slimeball thought about you?

"Your friend?"

You swallow a lump in your throat. Guess the plan now was to continue playing dumb in hopes of him giving up. With your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, you pause in thought for just a moment. "You mean Harry?"

"I'm obviously talking about Granger? She was just with you?"

"Was she?" Surveying the room, you pretend to search for the girl in question. Luckily enough she was nowhere to be found so your act must look rather convincing.

"So where did she go?"

"Who?" Fighting back a smile, your attention returns to McLaggen; his growing annoyance was evident in the creases forming across his forehead. If it had been anyone else, you'd probably feel bad for them. Although, you will admit that it was rather harsh on Hermione's part to be leading him on like this instead of making her intentions clear.

"Hermione Granger?"

Your shoulders rise in a quick shrug. "I don't know what to tell ya mate."

"Nevermind- I'll find her myself." With a sharp spin, he morphs back into the crowd finally leaving you in peace. You let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding as the pressure to cover had been elevated.

"So where is Hermione," This time the source was none other than Harry Potter; who was now standing by your side watching the party unfold. Neville seemed to have bumped into someone who was now causing quite the stir.

"No clue, she ran off somewhere," Stopping a waiter as they pass by, you take a small glass off his silver tray. The contents were golden yellow and you weren't quite sure what it was exactly.

"I don't understand why she agreed to come with him anyway." Sure, he had asked her but that didn't mean she was required to say yes. That had been her own choice which no longer made sense considering she was actively running away from him.

"Who knows," Harry muses aloud. "maybe it's because Cormac doesn't try to hide his interest in her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You look to him with a scowl. You had never tried to hide your feelings for Hermione but the same could be said about trying to show them. It wasn't exactly something you went around announcing to everyone.

"Nothing," He offers you a flash of a smile as he slinks away to save himself from the upcoming argument. "If you'll excuse me."

Harry scurries away leaving you alone at the party once more. It seemed only fitting for you to take your leave now and head back to the dorms; you hadn't wanted to come in the first place. Plus you didn't feel like having to deal with Hermione and Cormac anymore. The commotion drew your attention for a moment but with a heavy sigh, you head for the exit. Why on earth would Draco Malfoy of all people gate crash such a lame party?

"Thank you," Remnants of your drink now spilt down your chin as you coughed in surprise. Hermione Granger has suddenly appeared once again bringing with her an aura of sweetness.

"Don't- do that," you swat her arm playfully, wiping away your flavoured drool. "You- almost- killed me."

"You're being a little dramatic," a gentle smile paired well with a roll of her eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"Cormac? I decided to play dumb and act like I had no clue."

"Must have been rather easy for you then," You raise a brow; was that a joke?  

"You do realise that agreeing to be his date, has probably given him the wrong idea?" You muse, placing the now empty glass down. It was feeling sticky between your fingertips, "And as his date, you shouldn't be running away from him. It's awfully rude, miss Granger."

"I had to bring someone," Hermione looked away from you, a heavy sigh drifting into the crowd. It seemed whatever had happened regarding Draco had sorted itself out. "And he just so happened to ask me."

"You can't avoid him forever," You wonder where the man in question has wandered off to. He couldn't have gone far. Catching Luna Lovegood's gaze for the first time since arriving, she gave you a little wave.

"That's part of the problem."

"Maybe you shouldn't have come with him in the first place, Hermione." You insist sharply, glancing back at her. "You always had other options."

Had you not spoken about the party beforehand than perhaps you wouldn't be filled with such bitterness.

"I would have said yes," Hermonie gently takes your hand in hers. Her thumb dancing delicately over the back of your hand; your entire body seemingly relaxes. "If you asked me, I mean."

Her words felt invasive; as if she had somehow managed to read your mind. Recoiling from her touch, you step away. Crashing into a rather tall lady with deep dark brown hair. She shoots you a less than favourable look before moving on. "Who said I even wanted to ask you?"

"Harry," Seems Mr. Potter had decided to try and play Cupid where he wasn't wanted. You make a mental note to talk to him about it later.

"You could have asked me," you throwback sourly. "Instead you chose McLaggen- someone you don't even like," A harsher tone but you remain quiet in order to avoid drawing unwanted attention. Heading for the exit, Hermione trails after you like a little lost puppy. Why couldn't she just leave you alone? "Maybe next time you should stop playing games."

"Who did you come with?" Hermione asks softly. It's almost drowned out among the noise. 

"No one." Your head drops. "I thought about asking Ron but he was busy with Lavender." The sound of the party grew distant as you stepped into the empty hallway. "Stop following me 'mione, go back to the party."

"I'd rather stick with you," Hermione brushes up beside you, falling in line. It was cooler out here and you were grateful for it.

"What about McLaggen?"

"All the more reason to leave," An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you as you head back to the dorms. You never realised how eerie this place was when it wasn't full of students.

"Did you know Lovegood sleepwalks?" A harmless question to fill the void. "So she sleeps with shoes on although I think slippers would be the smarter choice."

"What?"

"She's an odd one," you smile softly at her. "But interesting,"

Speak of the devil, Miss Lovegood rushes past the two of you. Her dress twinkling in the moonlight.

"Heading back too, Luna?" You call out bringing her to a stop. The blonde turns back to the two of you.

"I am," She nods offering up a tiny smile as she waits for you to catch up. If it wasn't already awkward before it definitely was now. Nobody was speaking to each other so it was just like some weird silent adventure back to the dorms.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Luna?"

"It was alright," The blonde responds quietly. "I did manage to lose Harry a lot."

"Typical Potter," you shake your head in disapproval. "I was thinking..." You bump your shoulder against Luna's. "we should have tea together sometime?"

"Tea?" She muses out loud, "That sounds lovely."

"Great. I will send you an owl," Then Luna just up and turns down the corridor to your right. That wasn't the way to the Ravenclaw common room but maybe she wasn't heading back? With a little wave, you watch her skip away.

"You can be quite forward it seems,"

"What?" Your brows furrow.

"I just don't understand why you didn't ask me? We could have gone as friends?"

"I don't see why you're so mad at me when you're the one who had a date," you fight back.

"You're so oblivious,"

"Enlighten me then,"

The girl comes to an abrupt stop making you slow down. Turning to face Hermione, she seems unable to meet your gaze. "I wanted to ask you but I heard that Zabini was going to,"

"Zabini?" Never, in a million years, would you have thought that Blaise Zabini was interested in you. It was not a bad thing; Blaise was very cool and mysterious but also like too cool for you. Way too cool. "I wonder why he didn't."

"You would have said yes?"

"Better than going alone." You shrug a little.

"There you go then," Hermione huffs, storming past. Was she angry at you for considering another date when she herself attended the party with someone else? "Next time you need a date, go with him."

"Passive-aggressive much,"

"Forget I said anything,"

It was a silent walk back to the common room other than the moment Hermione had to say the password for you to get inside. The problem now was that you happened to share a dorm room with Hermione so there was no way to escape her judgemental eyes. After getting changed, you decided it's best to just retire for the night.

"I would have liked to have attended with you this evening had you actually asked me," Hermione expresses quietly. "When you didn't, I made other arrangements."

"I don't understand why I have to be the one to ask?" You respond. "You're perfectly capable of doing it. And besides, you didn't have to go with McLaggen, Hermione. That was a choice so you clearly didn't want to go with me that badly."

"You can't be serious," She groans loudly. "Why should I have to go dateless because you can't be bothered to ask me unless you don't have any better options."

"That's not even accurate," you growl back. "You're just making stuff up now."

"Will you two shut up," Ginny Weasley interrupts, leaning against the doorway. 

Heels held in her hands suggesting she had also just returned. "Everyone can hear you arguing."

"It's-" Ginny glares at you; shutting you up. Falling against your bed, Hermione sits upon her own as the youngest Weasley enters the room. "It's not fair that you insist on playing games and then get mad at me."

"It's not fair that you're mad at me because I found another date when you didn't ask me,"

Ginny sighed loudly. "Hermione. She didn't ask you because by the time she worked up the courage you already had a date. She was always going to ask you, she just thought you'd wait for her." Then her eyes fall to you, she looks very unimpressed. "Hermione on the other hand, heard you'd be attending with Zabini and so she was planning to make you jealous by going with McLaggen okay? you both like each other so either sort this out and go to bed or go argue somewhere else."

Ginny leaves you alone with Hermione and neither of you seems to know what to say. You were just a little surprised she would go out of her way to make you jealous, it seemed a little childish which wasn't her style. "Who knew Ginny could be so scary?"

The two of you share a smile which transforms into gentle and very quiet laughter. "You were scared to ask me?"

"I wouldn't say scared just... I didn't know if I had to ask officially. I kinda just expected us to go together but then Harry said you had a date." You shrug, fiddling with your hands. "You tried to make me jealous?"

"Don't," Hermione buried her face in her hands. How sweet she was. "I'm embarrassed enough."

"I still think you should have asked me," you lay down against your bed, snuggling against the sheets. "But I'll make you a deal. Next time I need a date, we shall go together okay? No matter what it is, you will always be my first choice."

"Alright, deal," you try to look at her but it's hard from your position. Listening as she climbed into her bed and switches off the light.

"You looked really pretty tonight."

"Thank you," she mumbles. "As did you."

[hopelessromantic727]

Michael Clifford- Forever and Always

Author’s Note: Double post for my birthday <3

Word Count: 2296

Pairing: Michael Clifford x Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Pure fluff

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Michael's POV

She was my reason to live. Even after all this time, she could still make my heart race and make me feel butterflies. I loved her more than I loved anyone else. She makes me feel things I've never experienced before. She's my whole world. I only felt safe when I was around her. Heaven was anything involving her. She helped me restore my faith and made me believe again.

I remember the first time we met. I was at a party with the boys, celebrating the release of our debut album. I was talking with Calum when I heard her laugh. I turned around and felt chills run down my spine when our eyes met. I was starstruck. She was so beautiful. She had this look in her eyes that made me want to get to know her. I felt such a connection to her it was hard to look away as Calum tried to get my attention. I never believed in love at first sight, but I knew I had found it when I looked at her.

I got her number afterward. Our relationship progressed since then and my feelings for her grew even more. We had made things official after going on a few dates and confessing our feelings for each other. I knew we were meant to be together when, after four months of dating, I took her to Sydney to meet my parents.

Me and Y/N were outside my parent's home. She hugged both of my parents, thanking them for the dinner they made. They smiled at her, telling her that it was lovely to meet her. She looked at me and smiled, walking away from us, giving me some space to talk to my parents.

I looked towards my mom. She smiled and said, "can I give you some advice?" I nodded.

"Please don't let her go," my mom said. I smiled, leaning down, giving her a hug.

"I won't mom, I'm planning on keeping her forever," I said while hugging her.

"I know she's the one," I said, pulling away, looking at both of my parents.

"I'm happy for you Mike," my dad said, looking over my shoulder, "you deserve to be happy."

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Y/N standing a few feet from the car, looking at us while smiling.

I felt my mom nudge my arm, and I turned back around. She smiled at me before saying, "go after her."

I nodded while smiling. I hugged both of them again, promising them that I'll be coming back soon.

I walked towards Y/N, grabbing her hand and intertwining our fingers together.

"You ready?" she asked, looking at me with adoration in her eyes.

"Yeah," I said, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.

* * * * * *

After almost five years of dating, I knew it was time to propose to her. I spent many weeks looking for the perfect ring for her. Many of those days, I was with the boys who were there to help me find the ring and for moral support.

We found the ring on a Sunday evening.

"This is probably like the fifth store we've gone to today," Calum complained.

Luke and Ashton scolded him as Ashton smacked Calum on the shoulder.

"Don't pressure him," Ashton said.

Calum rubbed his shoulder, muttering a small "sorry."

I felt Luke put his hand on my back while I looked at all the engagement rings.

"Found anything yet?" Luke asked, looking at the rings with me.

"Not yet," I muttered.

"Can I help you guys with something?" We looked up, seeing a girl that looked to be in her 20s.

"I don't know, maybe," I said, looking back down at the rings.

"He's looking for an engagement ring for his girlfriend," Luke replied, looking at the younger girl.

"Do you want a silver or a gold band for the ring?" she asked, looking with us.

"I think silver. She's always preferred silver over gold."

"Okay, come with me."

We walked with her towards the end of the counter.

"Here they are," she said, pointing at them.

I looked at each ring closely. I stopped my search when one particular ring caught my eye.

"Can I see that ring?" I asked the employee.

"This one?" She asked, pointing at it. I nodded.

She slid the glass door and grabbed the ring, handing it to me.

"This is a vintage-inspired ring," the girl said while I looked at the ring more closely in awe.

"Instead of having a traditional diamond, it has a sapphire stone."

I continued looking at the ring. It was perfect. Y/N loved anything vintage-inspired, and she's always loved the color blue because it was the color of the diamond in the necklace, The Heart Of The Ocean, from one of her favorite movies, Titanic. She'd always tell me how much she loved the necklace every time we watched the movie.

I smiled, "this is the one."

* * * * * *

After buying the ring, I asked Y/N’s brother for his approval of our marriage when he and his family came to visit.

"Hey Y/B/N, can we talk for a second?" He nodded, kissing his mother's head and joining me outside.

"What's up, Mike?"

"I want to ask you your opinion on something," I said, turning to look at him.

"Sure," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"What would you think about me marrying your sister?"

He looked at me in shock, "wait, really?" I nodded, getting nervous.

He looked away for a second, whispering "wow."

I was about to speak when he turned towards me again.

"You want my honest opinion?" I nodded again.

"I think that'd be great," he smiled at me, "you would have all of my support."

I let out a breath of relief as he patted me on the back.

"When are you proposing?"

"After I ask for your parent's blessing," I replied.

"Good luck with that."

I chuckled nervously, "thanks."

"Don't worry, they'll give it to you."

* * * * * * *

A few days after getting Y/B/N's approval, I asked her parents for their blessing.

Y/N's phone buzzed, disrupting our conversation.

"I'll be back Mikey, I'm gonna go answer this call," Y/N said, kissing me on the cheek before going outside.

I faced the kitchen where Y/N's family was. I entered and looked at them.

"Hey, umm, can I speak with you guys for a second?" I say, scratching the back of my neck.

They all looked at each other for a moment before Y/N's mother turned towards me.

"Sure," Y/N's mother said, signaling her husband and son to sit down before sitting down herself.

Y/B/N gave me a knowing look. I nodded at him, and he nodded back understandingly, giving me a small encouraging smile.

I sat down while the three of them looked at me.

"What do you want to talk to us about?" She asked.

"Well as you know, me and Y/N have been dating for five years now." They all nodded, urging me to go on.

"And I respect you guys a lot, and I consider you all family by now-"

"Okay, cut to the chase Michael," Y/N's father said, cutting me off, "what do you really want to talk to us about?"

I tried looking for the right words to say. "I..." I sighed, going for it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, may have your permission and blessing to marry your daughter?" I asked, looking at them nervously.

They looked at each other for a moment. Y/N's mother looked at Y/B/N, who nodded at her.

She looked at me, nodding, "you have my permission. I wouldn't want anyone else to marry Y/N but you." She stood up, opening her arms for a hug.

I let out a short breath of relief while standing up to hug her.

"You know you can call me Y/M/N no need to be fancy here," She said while hugging me.

I laughed, nodding my head, "okay."

I sat down again and looked towards Y/N's father, "Mr. Y/L/N?"

He looked at me for a second before leaning towards me from across the table, "you know I actually like you."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. He nodded, continuing, "you're a great person Michael, and you've proven that as time passed by."

"So..." I began.

"So you have our blessing," he said before smiling.

I felt my heart leap with joy. I stood up, extending my hand for him to shake, "thank you so much Mr. Y/L/N, I won't let you down."

"You can call me Y/D/N," he said, standing up, hugging me instead of shaking my hand.

I nodded, hugging him back before sitting down with them.

"Have you gotten the ring yet?" Y/M/N asked.

I nodded, smiling, getting the velvet box out. I opened it, turning it around so they could see.

I saw Y/M/N gasp in shock, tears welling up in her eyes as she took the box into her hands.

"Oh my god, it's beautiful," she said softly, "she's going to love it."

"I hope so," I said, smiling at them.

She handed me the box back when we heard the front door open.

I put it back in my pocket as Y/N entered the kitchen.

"Hey, sorry I took so long, Y/F/N was freaking out for no reason, you know how she is." We all laughed.

"Well, now you're here," I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, smiling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her parents exchange a glance while smiling.

* * * * * * *

Everything was ready for the proposal. We were on a beach in Greece.

Y/N was standing in front of me, looking at the sun that was starting to set while smiling. Y/N had always told me how much she loved sunsets. Every year on our anniversary, I took her to Greece, knowing how much she loved that place, to celebrate our anniversary, and every day we saw the sunset.

I looked around at all the people with us, each of them giving me a small smile while my bandmates, my family, and hers gave me a thumbs up.

I saw Calum mouth "good luck" to me. I nodded, silently thanking him for his words of encouragement.

The box in the pocket of my pants started feeling heavy as I approached her.

"It looks so beautiful," she said, looking at the sky, while I wrapped my arms around her.

"Not as beautiful as you," I said.

She smiled, turning to look at me, "thank you for bringing my family out here with us."

"No problem, besides, I know how much they mean to you. I had to bring them out here for our fifth anniversary," I said, kissing her bare shoulder, nuzzling my face in her neck.

"Also, I love them like I love my family."

"It seems like my family loves you too," she said, looking over my shoulder seeing her family. I turned, seeing them looking at us.

"Yeah, your dad too," I chuckled.

"Shockingly," she said while giggling.

"Hey, look," I said while turning her to face the front, "the sun is about to set."

We looked at the sunset in awe.

After a while, I saw the sky darkened, and I knew it was time.

I gently turned her around to face me. She looked at me a bit confused as I grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes.

"Y/N, I love you more than words can describe, but I'll try. You're the only girl who can put a smile on my face even when I don't want to. You can make me laugh even in my lowest moments. You've been there for me during my ups and downs, my highs and lows. I'm kind of surprised you've still stuck around," I said, laughing softly.

"The last five years have been the best years of my life because I spent them all with you. I want to be with you forever and for the rest of our lives. I want to grow old with you and have kids that look like us, running around our home. I want us to be together through all that life has us face. I want to love you every single day like I have for the past five years. There's so much more that I could say, but we have more than enough time for me to tell you. So Y/N, " I said, grabbing the blue velvet box from my pocket. I got down on one knee, looking up seeing tears in her eyes, with her hand over her mouth in shock as I opened the blue box, "will you marry me?"

She looked down at the box for a moment and looked back at me. She looked into my eyes.

"Yes, a million times yes," she said, tears leaving her eyes.

I let out a breath of relief, standing up, hearing our friends and family cheer as I placed the ring on her ring finger before kissing her.

"I can't wait to make you happy forever," I whispered against her lips after pulling away.

"You already have love," she said, looking into my eyes.

I pressed my forehead against hers, smiling while looking into her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered lovingly.

My smile widened, "I love you too, forever and always."

and they lived happily ever after

~the end~

-----------

this is what I was thinking of for the ring

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

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Present Mic x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Verbal abuse

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

One of my readers made a tiktok of a scene from this chapter!

Chapter: 9/16 (all chapters)

BZZZZT

BZZZZZT

You scowled and reached under your pillow for your phone, wondering who on earth would call you at this time of day.

BZZZT

BZZZT

You patted the usual spot under your pillow, but your phone wasn’t there.

BZZZZZZZZZT

You sighed and sat up, rubbing your eyes and staring at your surroundings, realisation slowly dawning upon you.

This wasn’t your room.

It wasn’t your phone.

It definitely wasn’t your bed.

You reached under the covers, tracing your fingers over your exposed skin. You had nothing on but an oversized shirt and even that wasn’t yours.

In which case...

You glanced over at the man beside you, who was equally annoyed at being disturbed.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, planting a kiss to your forehead before wriggling out of bed to hunt for his phone.

You wrapped yourself in the covers and watched him fumble in the dark, memories of the past few hours coming back to you all at once.

~~~~~

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER

The weeks after the sports festival passed by in a blur. You had been right to spend so long adjusting and readjusting your schedule, for without such meticulous planning you would never have been able to keep up with queries from agencies and students alike.

You felt a little guilty for thinking it, but it was almost a relief once the internships actually began and you didn’t have to focus so much on open office hours. You had to keep some degree of flexibility for students struggling under the pressure of their new responsibilities, but very few of them came in. They were too busy giving it their all at their respective agencies.

You weren’t the only one to feel a weight off your shoulders. Midway through the week, Nemuri and Hizashi stepped into your office.

“(Name),” said Nemuri, “are you busy?”

At the time, you were browsing the web for techniques and activities to best support students with the pressures of exams. It was a relatively minor task in the grand scheme of things and you motioned for the pair of them to make themselves comfortable.

“How can I help?”

You had a perfectly good set of chairs, but they disregarded them, instead perching at opposite ends of your desk.

“Tonight, listener,” said Hizashi. “Clear your schedule! We’re going for beers!”

It had been weeks since any of you had visited the izakaya and you were more than a little excited at the prospect of finally being able to catch up with your colleagues in an informal setting. It seemed like all you had talked about lately was agency work, examinations and sports festival related matters. Unfortunately, that enthusiasm swiftly transformed into guilt.

Today was the day you had agreed to meet Akira for dinner and you were reluctant to rearrange it. He had already arranged the entire evening around your schedule, despite having work commitments of his own.

“Ahhh, sorry,” you said, “I have dinner plans tonight. Maybe some other time?”

You didn’t know it at the time, but Hizashi and Nemuri had asked only one person out for drinks before you and that person had also declined. Shouta’s arms and face were both finally healed and he was more than a little conscious of how long he had gone without training. He had plans to throw himself back into the action after school and, as such, had also declined.

Shouta had been telling the unabridged truth, but your revelation made them wonder if perhaps he hadn’t been completely honest after all. He wasn’t the sort of person to go out for dinner, but these were unprecedented times.

“Could it be,” said Nemuri, reaching for your hand, “our precious (Name) has a date?”

It wasn’t a date, but you blushed anyway. It was, after all, the same restaurant you had frequented as a couple.

“No, nothing like that,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed. “Truthfully, I bumped into my ex at the sports festival and he invited me out for a meal. It’s just a catchup, nothing else! A lot of things have changed since we broke up.”

“Is he involved in the hero industry? He must be if he was at the sports festival.”

“I guess you could say that...he’s one of the higher ups at Silver Edge.”

Silver Edge was well known to people with even the most basic level of knowledge of hero agencies and naturally Hizashi and Nemuri knew about it.

“Silver Edge??” Nemuri gripped the hand she had taken. “(Name), you have to tell me everything.”

“There’s not really much to say. We met at college and he took on a job there after we graduated. His uncle is on the board, so he had a lot of recommendations.”

“Maybe I’ve heard of him,” said Nemuri. “What’s his full name?”

“Masayama Akira.”

You hadn’t considered the possibility that your new colleagues might have known your ex in a professional capacity, so it came as something of a relief when Nemuri shook her head.

“Ahhh, it doesn’t ring a bell. Is he taking you somewhere fancy?”

“ Les Papilles ,” you said. “It was our favourite place before...y’know.”

“I’ve heard of that place,” said Hizashi. “They charge 2000 yen just for bread and olives.”

“Think of us while you’re helping yourself to gold leaf,” said Nemuri, cradling your hand and planting a kiss on the knuckles. “I want all of the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you said, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said anything.

Nemuri pulled out her phone the second they left your office, Hizashi following with his hands in his pockets. Against all of his better judgement, he had decided to continue looking for the woman from Ego . You getting involved with your ex should have been a good development, but it didn’t feel like one.

“Hello,” said Nemuri, pressing her phone to her ear. “Is this Les Papilles ?”

She pulled open the door to the faculty lounge and sauntered inside, seeming not to notice Hizashi’s gestures of confusion as she took a seat on the couch.

What are you doing? Hizashi mouthed, waving his hands to get her attention. She winked as she caught his eye, clearly unperturbed by his panic.

“Yes, hi,” she said. “I have a reservation tonight, under the name of Masayama Akira. I was wondering if you could confirm the time? Mhmm. Mhmm. Thank you so much! I’ll see you tonight.”

She hung up the phone with a satisfied smirk.

“What are you doing?”

Hizashi still had no idea that Nemuri’s objectives were so different to his own. His immediate assumption was that she meant to take the opportunity to make the night even more romantic and encourage the pair of you to reunite. He couldn’t have been any more wrong.

“ We ,” she said, “are going to Les Papilles .”

~~~~~~~

That night, you spent hours rifling through your wardrobe, trying on dresses and then discarding them, unsure of yourself in ways you never had been before. Akira had been your boyfriend for years, but you didn’t want to presume his intentions and risk sending out the wrong signals.

You managed to narrow your selection down to two: a modest dress you had picked out for a dinner party and the one you had worn to Ego .

As tempting as it was to wear the dress from that night, you decided against it. It was strange, but you felt strangely sentimental about it, as if you were betraying Shouta by wearing it around Akira. You knew it was irrational- that Shouta likely didn’t have much of an opinion either way- but even so, you set it back inside your wardrobe.

The group chat you shared with your friends had exploded at the news that you were going out to dinner. Almost everyone agreed that it was a terrible idea, that going out with Akira would reignite old feelings and undo everything you had achieved over the past few months.

You were confident, though, not only in Akira but yourself. If things got weird you would leave.

You took a deep breath and adjusted your clothes in the mirror, just as you had on the night you went to Ego . This time, though, you didn’t pull your dress down to tease your bra. Instead you pulled it down to cover your knees.

~~~~~~

Les Papilles was far, far out of Hizashi’s comfort zone. He shifted in his seat and watched the string quartet at the other side of the room, considering just how little he belonged there. Nemuri seemed not to notice, turning the pages of the menu and sounding out the specials in broken French.

They had dressed up for the evening in their Sunday best, Hizashi in a black dinner jacket and Nemuri in a burgundy dress. They didn’t look like themselves and he had mixed feelings about it. Ordinarily, he might have concocted a backstory for the pair of them, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Instead he stared at the menu in front of him as if it held the secrets to the universe.

He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to watch you eat dinner with another man.

Shouta had the woman from Ego , you had your ex. It felt like everyone had somebody except for him.

“Hizashiiiiiii,” said Nemuri, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Hizashi…”

He blinked as if coming out of a trance.

“S-sorry, what were you saying?”

“Over there,” she said, holding up the menu to hide where she indicated. “Be subtle.”

He turned to where she pointed, mouth going dry when he saw you, laughing and smiling as your ex pulled out a chair. As far as Hizashi knew, this was the first time he’d ever seen you dressed up, and he couldn’t look away.

He watched as you slid down into your seat and laughed off a joke from your server, crossing your legs and tucking your hair behind your ear.

Nemuri kicked him under the table and he jumped.

“Subtle,” she whispered.

“Right,” he said, sitting up straight. “Of course. Subtle. I can do subtle.”

~~~~~

It was strange to be back at Les Papilles . In a lot of respects, it felt the same as coming home from college at winter break. Everything about it was the same, from the positioning of the cutlery to the servers and orchestra, but you were completely different.

Even Akira was the same. He made the same jokes to the serving staff, ordered your meal from memory, waved to the cellist at the front of the band as he always did. You realised as one of the servers arrived with your favourite vintage that the last time you had been here was the day of the breakup, back when you believed your life was over.

It was strange to be there so soon, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened.

Conversation flowed easily; you caught up on the antics of old friends and his family, his successes at work, his current projects. You didn’t ask if he had started seeing someone else, nor did you offer up any information of your own. It felt inappropriate under the circumstances.

After you finished off your starter, you dismissed yourself to freshen up in the bathroom, fixing up your makeup and checking in on the group chat.

>>How is everything?

>>It’s fine...better than fine. Did you know his sister got married?

>>Has he said anything about getting back together?

>>Of course not! We’re just catching up like old friends! It’s nothing like that.

>>Sure...

~~~~~~

“Oh my god,” said Nemuri, setting aside her fork.

“What is it?”

Hizashi turned back to your table, where Akira was having a conversation with the violin players and table staff. He thought nothing of it until he spotted what Akira was holding: a small black box, which almost certainly contained a ring.

He turned back to Nemuri, looking almost as horrified as she did.

“Is he...surely he isn’t…”

Unfortunately, you returned to the table only a short time later, long before they could intervene.

~~~~~

Akira was taking a sip of wine when you returned and got up from his seat to help you into your chair.

“I already ordered mains,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you said, making yourself comfortable. “Thank you.”

Akira sat down and cleared his throat, eyes darting from you to the band to the table.

“The truth is, (Name), I didn’t call you here just to catch up.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached for your hand across the table, just as he had when he broke up with you. It was a small gesture, but an unwelcome one, unearthing memories and emotions from that night that you had refused to acknowledge for well over half a year. You remembered how excited you had been back then, so close to the only serious goal you had ever had. All of your hard work and sacrifices would finally pay off and you could become the perfect wife and mother. You could raise your children with a smile on your face, safe in the knowledge that their childhood would be nothing like your own.

“I miss you,” he said, squeezing your hands. “I thought I knew what I wanted but...I didn’t. Back then, I just...I don’t know...I felt like I was stuck in a rut. I wanted something, but I didn’t know what it was.”

He let go of your hands with an expression of pity.

“I slept with another woman,” he said. “I don’t want to hide it from you. I’m sorry...I know it must come as a shock. Promise me you won’t get upset.”

“Akira,” you said, weighing up the pros and cons of being honest with him about your own bedroom antics.

“No, don’t say anything,” he said. “I know this must be hard for you.”

It wasn’t, but you decided to humour him.

“I slept with her once and all I could think about was you,” he said. “I missed the perfect lunches you’d pack for me, the way you’d greet me after work with a glass of wine and listen to what I had to say. I knew I could tell you anything and you wouldn’t judge me.”

“Akira,” you said again, but he reached for your hands again.

“I understand now,” he said. “That other woman? She didn’t care about me as much as you did. I don’t think anyone else ever will...not even my mother. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I never wanted to break your heart…and now that I’m higher up in the business I understand where my priorities should be. My new coworkers are older. They’re settled down with families and always talking about their wives and children. Their wives are friends, their children play together...”  

He waved at the orchestra, who swiftly began to play a rendition of the track he decided was your song several years ago. You barely had a chance to register it before he got out of his chair and dropped down on one knee.

“(Name),” he said, holding up a small, black box. “Marry me.”

“Akira…”

“We can be together,” he said. “We can have everything we’ve always dreamed of.”

You stared at him, speechless. Not so long ago this moment was everything you had wanted. You had planned it in your head, had practised saying yes. Now that it was truly playing out in front of you, though, you realised you didn’t want it.

You weren’t sure when, exactly, but you had stopped thinking about weddings and babies. You had stopped thinking about him .

“I…”

“I know,” he said, lifting the ring from the box and towards your finger.

You glanced around the restaurant, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. The other patrons had realised what was happening and turned to watch, no doubt waiting to clap.

“Akira, I don’t know what to say...I…”

You couldn’t turn him down without making him look like an idiot in front of this roomful of strangers. Why, oh why, had he decided to make this such a spectacle?

“Just say yes,” he said.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, thinking back to the old you, who would have by now.

“Can we please talk somewhere private?!”

You got to your feet before he could answer, snatching up your purse as you strolled towards the front doors. Akira gave everyone in the restaurant a thumbs up before following you out into the night air.

You hadn’t realised how stiflingly hot the restaurant had been and took a deep breath.

“I have to say,” said Akira as he closed the restaurant door behind him and followed you into a side street. “Whatever skit you’re pulling-“

“ You dumped me ,” you said, turning to face him. “ You told me I was the problem in our relationship. You don’t get to just change your mind about something like that and come back into my life like nothing happened.”

It was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Listen,” he said, “if this is about that other girl…”

“It’s not,” you said. “I slept with someone else too. Twice, actually.”

He took your hands in his, clasping them against his chest.

“Then you understand,” he said. “All of the time I was with her, all I thought about-”

“When I was with him I didn’t think of you at all.”

You hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but nothing else seemed to be getting through to him.

“You’re confused,” he said. “I get it. All of this stuff with UA...it’s just a phase. You’ll move on from it one day.”

“Maybe so...but even then I wouldn’t want to marry you.”

Akira didn’t say anything for several minutes and when he did it was to laugh out loud.

“You’re joking, right? This is a joke.”

“It’s not a joke. I’m sorry, but-”

He snatched his hands away from yours and gripped onto your shoulders.

“Who else is going to want you?”

“I...wh-”

“Look at you,” said Akira, looking you up and down. “You aren’t all that pretty, y’know. You should be grateful someone like me would even look at you, let alone ask you to marry them.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, keeping your composure, “but...I’ve moved on. You should too.”

He shook his head with a tsk, pushing you away with such force that your back slammed against the wall. He took the ring out of his pocket and threw it down onto the floor before going back inside the restaurant. The ring clattered as it hit the ground and you watched, crushing your hands to your face to try and stifle your tears.

All you could think about was the cooking classes you had taken; your instructor’s explanation about adding and subtracting ingredients. It was always possible to add extra later, but adding too much was the point of no return. You had experienced too much now; had seen your life from an outsider’s perspective and didn’t want to return to it. You no longer placed your value in tidy stitches and perfect pastries.

Even so, you considered, kneeling down to pick up the ring from the floor, you were as far from habanero as you were vanilla.

You had no idea who you were anymore.

~~~~~~~

In your absence the restaurant had fallen silent. The band had stopped playing as the door closed behind you both, the serving staff standing a little further back from the table with a cake in their arms, awkwardly exchanging glances with one another. The cake was quite clearly custom made, with bright red icing on the top that read “Congratulations Mrs. Masayama”.

Hizashi chewed his bottom lip, Nemuri cradled her wine glass. They didn’t need to speak to know what the other was thinking. They had seen the expression of horror on your face and the oblivious one on Akira’s. They knew it wasn’t going to end well.

When Akira finally returned, he was alone. He shook his head at the orchestra and serving staff, who swiftly carried on with their duties as if nothing had happened, smuggling the cake back into the kitchen area and resuming their ordinary track list.

Hizashi watched as Akira kicked at his seat before sitting down and turned to Nemuri, who gave him a nod. If he was kicking at chairs, they worried what he might have done to you.

Hizashi got to his feet and left the restaurant, shoving open the front door and rushing out onto the street. You weren’t directly outside and he headed off to check the side streets, heart shattering into pieces when he finally found you.

He could think of little else but the first time he saw you when you came to UA. The original guidance counsellor had been there for years, including when many of the faculty members studied there themselves. She had candies and a pat on the head for just about anyone and losing her was like losing a grandmother. That’s not to say they weren’t excited about the replacement, though.

He and Nemuri had spent hours hypothesising not only what the new person would be like, but the kind of person they hoped they would be. They concluded that they both wanted it to be a cute girl, the type of person they could take to the izakaya and influence in all of the wrong ways. Having you join the staff was like winning the lottery.

He and Nemuri had high fived the first time they saw you, opening the staff room door by a sliver and watching as Nezu took you on a tour. He would never forget his initial impression; that you were pretty and sweet and reminded him of a kitten. His opinions hadn’t changed even now that he knew you better. You held no ill will towards anyone, bent over backwards to help out students and colleagues alike, forgave just about anyone who wronged you even slightly.

Seeing you in tears hit him hard, simply because it was you.

He walked over, stomach churning at the prospect of what might have been said or done to upset you so much.

“Hey, little listener,” he said softly and you frantically rubbed the tears from your eyes.

“S-sorry,” you stammered, fumbling with your purse, “I’ll be right there…”

“Little listener,” he said again, reaching for your shoulders. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him and squinted, recognition slowly sinking in. Very few people recognised him outside of his hero costume and you were no exception to the rule.

“Hizashi? Wh...what are you doing here?”

You blushed a bright red and immediately started rubbing the tears away even harder.

“Saving the day,” he said with a smile.

“Sorry,” you said, though your eyes didn’t meet his. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Hizashi sighed and touched his fingers to your chin, lifting your face towards his. You didn’t have any visible swelling or other marks on your skin that pointed towards a physical attack.

“Don’t apologise,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you said, tears welling in your eyes and voice beginning to break, “I’m fine. I’m completely fine.”

You still whispered that you were fine as he lowered his hand from your face, as you buried your face in your hands and began to sob. You still tried to murmur them when you choked with tears and could manage little more than single syllables.

Hizashi stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair as you buried your face in his chest and began to wail.

“That’s it,” he said, stroking your hair, “I got you. Just let it out, little listener.”

He reached into his jacket pocket for his phone and typed out a message to Nemuri.

>>I’ve got (Name). You handle him.

>>  ( ˘ ³˘)♥

~~~~~

Nemuri set down her phone with a grin and picked up her purse, making sure to swing her hips far more than was necessary as she approached Akira’s table. The servers, unsure what to do, had brought your main meals to the table, leaving Akira to glare at them in silence.

She slipped down into your chair, taking care to tease her low neckline.

Akira looked up at her and she picked up your abandoned fork, helping herself to a carrot from your plate. She made sure to run her tongue over it, licking off the honey glaze.

“Can I join you?”

~~~~~

You weren’t sure how long you sobbed into Hizashi’s chest, only that you couldn’t stop. You forgot where you were, so overwhelmed by misery and his warm body that the world seemed to stop.

When the tears dried and you came back to earth, you felt more than a little embarrassed. You’d smudged makeup and snot all over his shirt and likely made a scene in the process.

“Oh my god,” you said, stepping back and rubbing your eyes. “I’m so sorry, look at the mess i’ve made…”

Hizashi looked down at his shirt and shrugged.

“What, this? Please. I’m a teacher, a celebrity, a hero and a catch. Believe me, I’ve had worse.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and he stroked his fingers across your cheeks.

“Ahhh, there it is,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Much better.”

“I don’t understand...what are you doing here? I thought you and Nemuri were going to the izakaya.”

“Uhhhhh, well,” Hizashi scratched his chin, “the thing is…you kinda put us in the mood for French food…”

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have been mortified at the realisation that they might have seen everything. Right then, though, you were exhausted and numb.

“Ahh, whatever, it doesn’t matter,” you said, reaching into your purse for your train card. “It’s been a long night...I should get going.”

“What are you talking about, cute listener? The night’s just beginning! Didn’t you know? This is the best time to view the city!”

He was trying to cheer you up, but you knew that not only was your makeup ruined, but you could never show your face in Les Papilles again.

“I can’t go anywhere looking like this,” you said. “I look like...like…”

Hizashi shook his head and reached into his pocket. He rummaged for a couple of seconds before grinning and pulling out a set of star shaped sunglasses.

“Now look at that,” he said, slotting them onto your face, “you’ve got stars in your eyes.”

It was such a corny line that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you just... carry spare sets of sunglasses everywhere?”

He reached into his other pocket by way of an answer, pulling out a set shaped like flowers, then another shaped like hearts.

“You never know what might happen,” he said. “Sometimes the mood calls for something a little different.”

“What’s the mood today?”

He lifted up both pairs, weighing up the pros and cons of each before switching his plain glasses for the heart ones.

“Now, then,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on you. “Have you ever been in a movie?”

“Have I what ?”

It was an absurd question, but he looked as dead serious as anyone could in novelty sunglasses.

“Pick a genre,” he said, reaching for his phone. “You’re the heroine now. What movie are we in?”

You considered it, thinking about the past year.

You didn’t know if you were vanilla or habanero or anything in between, but you knew what you’d like to be given the choice.

“It’s a romance,” you said, blushing scarlet, “a sickly sweet, cliched romance, where everyone falls in love with everyone else and no one’s alone at the end.”

Hizashi nodded, giving you sounds of approval.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he said, fastening earphones to his phone and slipping it into the inside pocket of the jacket he had put on you. “Here…”

He held out the earphones and you picked them up, putting one in your ear and holding out the other, meaning to share. Hizashi shook his head.

“No, no,” he said. “It’s your soundtrack, not mine!”

You put the other one in and listened to the music he had loaded, taking in the wistful melody as he reached a hand for yours. You reached to take it and followed him along the street, gazing up at the street lamps and signs overhead.

You knew these streets better than most. Akira lived nearby and between going to his place and visiting Les Papilles , you had done a lot of walking here. Perhaps it was the sunglasses, the music or the fact that you were holding onto Hizashi’s hand, but it didn’t look the same. You spotted details you had never noticed before, like the dancing wisterias overhead and the glow of fairy lights in the windows. You spotted chalk drawings on the ground, smiling strangers who passed you with cups of coffee only to disappear from your life moments later.

You wondered how long you had walked these streets without really looking at them; how many years you had spent looking at your feet instead of the sky.

You didn’t let go of Hizashi’s hand as you got onto the train, peering out of the windows at every station you passed. You admired every piece of graffiti, the careful hand movements of the musician busking at the station entrance. You couldn’t hear him over the music playing through Hizashi’s earphones, so pretended he was the one playing.

You got off at a station you’d never been to before, listening to the gentle swell of the music as you climbed the stairs out onto the main square. Food vendors lined the streets and the scent of fried foods filled the air. Hizashi guided you along the street, pointing out a carousel. In the daytime it would have looked mundane, but at night it was beautiful, illuminating the night with a golden glow.

Hizashi guided you towards it and slipped the owner a couple of notes, motioning for you to choose a horse the moment he let you pass through the rope barrier. You picked one out and climbed up into the saddle, waving Hizashi over to sit behind you. He climbed up into the saddle and wrapped an arm around your waist, using the other to hold onto the rail.

You watched your surroundings as the ride began to move and your shadows hit the ground.

You had lived in this city for years and walked the earth for thirty. You had never known the city could look like this, that it could fill your heart with warmth and love until it shone as brightly as the carousel. You wanted to stay there forever and never come down, enchanted by the world and its infinite details.

~~~~

You hadn’t gotten around to eating dinner and spent more money than you normally would on warm doughnuts, corn dogs and yakisoba. The pair of you sat down at the end of the pier, taking off your shoes and dangling your feet down towards the sea.

By then, you had turned off the music and handed Hizashi his jacket back, relishing the sound of the waves hitting the shoreline and soft sea breeze through your hair.

“So,” said Hizashi, taking a bite of one of the doughnuts, “what’s the story with your ex?”

“There’s not really much of one,” you shrugged. “We dated at college.”

“And?”

“And...one day he took me out to dinner and said he wanted to play the field, live a little more, that sort of thing. He didn’t want to commit to a relationship, he wanted to get out there and have fun,” you said, poking at your noodles. “I thought it was the end...but...actually...I think I agree with him now. I’d spent so long in a relationship that I forgot who I was without it.”

“And are you any closer? To figuring out who you are?”

“No,” you said, sighing deeply. “I thought I was, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well,” said Hizashi, dusting off his hands. “If this is you at 25%, I can’t wait to see what you’re like at full power.”

You turned to Hizashi, blushing at the way he had turned to look at you.

“I...I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, of all people.”

“Hey!”

You giggled at his outburst, thinking back to Shouta’s words at your apartment.

Purple socks, studded leather, zombie movies, horror games, candles that smell like desserts, cheap sunglasses, expensive shampoo, eighties rock and dubstep mashups, light beer…

All of the things Hizashi liked.

Shouta had taken a step back and said he was rooting for you. Akira was no longer in your life. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to hide your nerves.

“Hizashi,” you said, somehow managing to blush an even darker shade of red.

“Hmmm?”

“Did you...uh...that is. Would you like to…”

You hadn’t propositioned anyone since Shouta and even then he had filled in the blanks. You prayed Hizashi was just as good at taking a hint.

“...wouldyouliketogosomewheremoreprivate?”

You didn’t dare look at him. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“(Name),” he said at last, “are you asking what I think you are?”

“Probably,” you squeaked. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I-you must think I’m...”

He cupped your face in his hand, though, grinning like a cheshire cat.

“You worry too much,” he whispered. “Just let it happen.”

“Okay,” you said, heart fluttering as he stroked his fingers across your jawline and combed his fingers through your hair, touching his lips to yours with a softness you hadn’t expected from him.

One kiss turned into two, two turned into three and before you knew it you were gasping into his open mouth while he stroked his fingers from your ribs to your hip. You were grateful for the sunglasses he had given you; you dreaded to think how dazed you looked. You felt as if you were floating, head and shoulders above the clouds.

Hizashi broke the kiss before you did and got to his feet.

“Are you ready,” he asked, putting one hand on his hip and quite deliberately guiding your line of sight to his crotch, “for this jelly ?”

It was such an absurd thing to say that you burst out laughing.

This, this right here was what you expected from him.

~~~~~~~~

You’d been to Hizashi’s apartment before during the recording of Support Mic . Every time you went there, you made the same observation: that its walls were plain and its furniture simple, completely at odds with the man who lived there.

“You wanna see something cool?” he asked as he closed the front door.

“Okay.”

He reached out to flip a light switch and at first you believed he was going to leave you both in the dark. You wondered what was cool about that, only for your jaw to drop a moment later.

It was a light switch, but not in the conventional sense.

Hizashi, as it turned out, had blacklights installed in his home and every corner of every wall shone with otherwise invisible colours. Some areas had portraits and galaxies painted on them, others had patterns and handprints.

“W...wow,” you said, staring up at a ghostly milky way as Hizashi brushed your hair to one side and planted a kiss on the back of your neck.

Your dress hit the ground with a whisper, his belt fell at your feet. You had nothing on but your underwear by the time you reached the bedroom and stared at the sapphire hue of your skin. Somehow, even your own body felt foreign.

You glanced over at Hizashi, at the musical notes tattooed on the left side of his ribcage and stud through his right nipple, really seeing him for the first time. The Hizashi you had known before this was goofy and sweet. This one was a piece of art on par with the galaxies and flowers on his walls. You didn’t know why it surprised you to learn he too had layers of complexity.

He noticed you staring at him and almost looked bashful, though it lasted only a fraction of a second. He dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear, shimmying them down to your ankles and planting a kiss on the soft flesh below your belly button. You sighed into it, stomach fluttering, and kicked them off entirely.

“Now then,” he said, getting to his feet and planting a hand on the small of your back to draw you closer, “check you out, little listener! You look good enough to eat.”

Heat rose in your cheeks and you giggled, accepting the kisses he peppered across them. He kissed your lips and squeezed your butt, using your gasp to explore your mouth with his tongue.

His bedsheets were soft against your skin - almost as soft as his kisses. You crushed your lips against his without any kind of hesitation, trembling as he stroked a hand over your collarbones, breasts and then stomach before slipping a finger between your folds. You gasped as his fingertip grazed your clit and he chuckled, propping himself up on his other elbow and admiring the view as he traced his finger around the outside of your wetness.

“Look at that,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed, “you’re so wet already!”

He pulled his hand away from your slick and held it up so you could see, rubbing his finger and thumb together to show the wetness you’d left on them. You fell silent, feeling oddly bashful as he sucked on the finger he’d used to touch you.

You had no clue how you were going to look him in the face at work after this, but his touches felt so good that you didn’t care. You tasted yourself on his lips when he kissed you, shivered as he lifted your leg up onto his waist and shoved his hand between your thighs. He scissored his fingers inside of you and rubbed his thumb over your clit, laughing whenever a particular touch made you moan and buck your hips against his hand.

“Let me hear you,” he said, peppering your throat with kisses and drawing moans from your lips, relishing every vibration.

He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them before lifting himself up onto all fours, rolling you onto your back in the process. You stared up at him, heart racing, taking in the silvery hue his hair had taken in the dark. He trailed messy kisses from your lips to your collarbone, crawling down the bed as his kisses travelled south. You closed your eyes the second his tongue crossed your nipple and let out a sigh of pleasure, which only seemed to spur him on.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, settling on his stomach and spreading your legs wide. “Sing for me.”

This was the first time anyone had gone down on you. You had no point of reference, no idea what to expect. You gasped at the strange, wet feeling, reaching down to stroke his hair as if by instinct. Every touch of his tongue sent your insides to jelly and you bit down on your fingers to stifle your gasps.

“No, no, no,” he said, “I want to hear you.”

He held your hips down and sucked at your clit so forcefully that you lost all coherent thought. It still felt wet, but the strangeness had gone, making room for a growing tightness deep inside of you. You wanted nothing more than to break.

He eased up, swirling the tip of his tongue against your clit so gently that you caught yourself bucking your hips against his mouth and arching your back from the bed, trying and failing to meet him halfway.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, reaching for his hair. “Please, please don’t stop.”

You were so close to unravelling and it felt like a matter of life or death.

You had no point of reference and no way of knowing how good Hizashi actually was at oral. All you knew was that his touches left your arms and legs numb. You finally understood why he had painted so many of his ceilings to look like outer space. The more he touched you, the more it felt like you were floating, watching your own body contort with pleasure from a distance.

He knew the exact moment you teetered on the brink and chose that one to loosen his grip on you and plant a kiss on your thigh. The anticipation faded and you could have cried.

“Hizashiiii…”

“No, no, no, not yet,” he said, sitting up onto his knees and wagging his finger. “I want to make you scream.”

You’d never screamed in bed before and just the thought left you feeling a mixture of embarrassed and morbidly curious. Exactly how good would you have to feel to scream? How dirty could Hizashi get?

You smiled, cheeks flushed.

“I’d love to see you try.”

“Those are famous last words, (Name).”

“At least I’ll go with a smile on my face.”

Hizashi grinned and adjusted his position, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his waist, spreading you wide and slipping a finger in you, snickering as your toes began to curl. It didn’t take long to build you up again this time and you grabbed the bedsheets, bracing yourself for a peak that never came. Hizashi let you get close enough to taste freefall, only to drag you back to earth.

He rolled across the bed and fumbled in his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and something else that you didn’t recognise in the half light.

“Say, (Name), do you wanna see something... really cool?”

“Go ahead.”

He thrust the condom towards you, motioning for you to take it. You did, turning it over in your fingers and squinting at the print.

“Are these…”

“Present Mic condoms! Designed, approved and beta tested by yours truly! Guaranteed to make your partner siiiiiiiiiiing.”

You knew that there was a lot of Present Mic merchandise. You’d seen shirts, alarm clocks, pyjamas and more and that was without deliberately seeking them out. There was almost certainly more on the internet, though it had never occurred to you that condoms would be one of them.

“I,” you said, “I don’t know what to say.”

You passed it back to him, watching as he wriggled out of his underwear. You licked your lips at the sight of his dick, unable to stop yourself. Where Shouta’s dick was wide, Hizashi’s was long and you didn’t know what to say of the fact that you had seen enough of your colleagues naked that you were able to make such a comparison.

He dragged the tie from his hair and wrapped it around his wrist, flicking his hair over one shoulder with a wink.

“You like what you see?”

Yes.

Yes, you did.

Between the blacklight, his naked body and long, golden hair, he looked like a painting.

“Come here,” you said, waving him over.

He stayed there, though, pouting.

“But you haven’t seen the cool part yet,” he said.

“You mean...there’s more?”

What else had he trademarked? Was he about to show you Present Mic lube?

He opened the condom wrapper, though, and you soon had your answer. It wasn’t any ordinary condom and, retrospectively, you regretted not realising it earlier.

Present Mic’s condoms were glow in the dark and shone green under the blacklight.

“It’s...it’s a glow stick,” you gasped, watching as he pulled it on. “Oh my god.”

“It’s awesome, right! Not sure how you’d wave them at a concert, though…Not without getting arrested, anyway...”

He said it so sincerely that you couldn't help but laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your giggles.

“You think that’s funny, eh?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, laughing harder.

“Hon, what are you apologising for? I could watch this all day.”

You looked up at him, taking in the tender expression on his face that was completely out of place in your current surroundings. You remembered the way he had cradled you in the alley, just as gentle then as he was now.

You would almost certainly feel embarrassed in the morning, but you knew that none of this was a mistake.

He leaned over you, kissing your nose as he reached out to the mystery item he’d put on the bedside table. You inhaled sharply when you realised it was a vibrator wand, something you had never seen in person. It looked like something from a science fiction movie.

“You okay, doll?”

“Are they...always that big?”

Hizashi sat up onto his knees and set the vibrator aside for the time being.

“Nope, but this one is especially powerful! I accept only the best, ya dig?”

You glanced from the vibrator to him, trembling from the anticipation. You had followed Rei and the others into sex stores, though stared at your shoes the entire time, too ashamed to look, much less join in their conversations. They bought you a bullet vibrator for your birthday once, just to see the horrified expression on your face.

Tonight you were well and truly diving in head first.

“Put your hands up,” said Hizashi, lifting your leg over his shoulder. You obeyed, slowly raising your arms above your head and onto the pillows. He licked his finger and slipped it between your folds and back inside you, stretching you out a little more before pulling it out and inching his dick into the gap. You gasped, relishing both the feeling of being stretched to accommodate him and the way he closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure.

“What the hell, (Name),” he whined, “you feel so good.”

“S-so do you,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks.

Hizashi bumped his hips against yours, both of you gasping at the sensation.

“How’s that?”

“Do it again.”

He obeyed, squeezing onto your thigh as he thrust back into you. You reached down a hand, meaning to stroke your clit, but he clapped you away.

“No, no, no, put your hands up,” he said and you rested them back onto the pillows. “The party’s not over yet.”

He took up a slow pace initially, changing it up whenever you got remotely close to coming. He’d go faster only to stop the moment you begged him to keep going and keep fucking you that way. He’d go slow and deep, brushing the soft spot inside of you, only to pull out once your moans got more frantic. You knew from the satisfied look on his face that he was doing it on purpose.

“S...stop teasing me like this,” you said, “I’m going to…”

Truthfully, you had no idea what would happen when you came. You’d never been teased this much before. Hizashi laughed, though, perfectly dodging the pillow you launched at his head.

“Are you suuuure? I said I’d get you to scream, remember? Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes! Yes I can handle it!”

Hizashi smirked and fell still, reaching for the vibrator next to him. He spat on his fingers and rubbed them across your clit before flicking the on switch. You had never heard a vibrator so loud, but you were so focused on the tension inside of you that you didn’t care. Hizashi touched it to your clit and held it there, sending you over the edge in a matter of seconds. You gasped in delight, body twitching and full of warmth. Hizashi started to thrust, moaning at the feel of you tightening around his cock. He held the vibrator in place and you squirmed, tension building inside of you again, just as unbearably tight as before. It was overwhelming and you cried out at the feel of his rapid fire thrusts and hum of the vibrator, overstimulated to the point of no return.

He turned up the vibrator and you screamed in delight, losing all self consciousness as your body quaked.

He kept going, over and over, dragging orgasms from you until you lost track of the peaks. They started to bleed into one another, leaving you flustered and desperate. He went deeper and harder, praising you for how loud you were getting.

“Are you going to give me one more,” he said, switching off the wand. “One more, I know you can do it.”

“Mhmm,” you whined, watching as he set aside the vibrator and slipped himself out of you. “Hizashi…don’t stop…”

He lifted both of your legs and motioned for you to hold them open, planting a kiss on your slick folds before pushing himself back inside of you. You bit your bottom lip at the change in angle, his hips crashing into yours so deeply that you felt the bed rocking beneath you.

“Sssshit,” said Hizashi, “I’m going to come.”

“Me too,” you said, digging your nails into your thighs to keep them spread, “I’m going to…hnn!”

You arched your back as you came, the added twitching sending Hizashi over the edge with you. You watched in curiosity, wondering what would happen if he cried out, only for him to lean over and crush your lips with his own, moaning into your open mouth as he continued to thrust.

“You ready for the money shot?”

You nodded, placing a hand on the small of his back and feeling him thrust into you.

You watched as he sat up to straddle you, dragging off the neon condom and frantically pumping at his dick. He bit down on his own fingers as he came across your belly, covering your skin in a layer of hot cum, which glowed luridly under the light.

You reached out to touch it with trembling fingers as Hizashi got up off the bed to get rid of the condom, admiring the way it shone against your skin in the same way as the paint on his bedroom ceiling.

Before this, you felt your body had been as barren and plain as the white walls of his apartment. Perhaps it was the happy hormones flooding your body, but you felt just as transformed and ready to confront just about anything.

“You okay, little listener?”

Hizashi came back towards the bed, taking a seat beside you and combing your hair off your sweaty forehead. Both of you laughed when all you could muster was a shaky thumbs up.

“Well, lucky for you, the party isn’t over,” he said with a wink. “I am going to run you the warmest, bubbliest bath you’ve ever had in your life...if you’re lucky, I might even join you!”

~~~~~

PRESENT

“I got it, I got it,” said Hizashi, reaching up to answer his phone. “Hello? Hello…? Ah...Eraser, what’s…wait. Slow down. What do you mean?”

Something about his tone made you anxious and you pushed back the covers as he sank down onto the edge of the bed. You could hear Shouta’s voice, though not what he was saying.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up the phone and set it down on his bedside drawer, breathing a heavy sigh.

“That sounded serious. Is everything okay?”

“We have to go to UA,” he said, getting up to pick up the TV remote.

“Hizashi it’s...it’s three in the morning, what-”

You fell silent the moment he switched it on, taking in the stony faced news broadcaster and burning buildings, the video footage of Midoriya at the feet of the hero killer, Stain.

“Oh my god,” you said, hugging yourself.

“Yeah,” sighed Hizashi. “Guess there’s not gonna be a round two.”

[kryptsune]

Souly Damned Saturdays!~

🌼 Hello everyone! Welcome to another SD Saturday! Today is going to be another character profile, a timeline, and some info on one of the stories within the world! As always if you are interested in my original work please reach out! I love answering questions about all this work. Let’s get into it! 

~Prince Profile:~

True Name: Saketh Alias Names: Costello Nicknames: N/A (he usually rarely even uses his true name as he prefers Costello far more) Soul Flower Type: Rose in Full bloom          Color Type: Fire Gold mix with Burnt edges Infernal Hierarchy: Crowned Prince of Lust Age Order: 2nd Oldest Familiar Form: (Raven) - A large black feathered bird with eyes and talons of golden fire. True Form Appearance Description:          ~Skeletal in appearance          ~Prominent fangs (spiked teeth in true form)          ~White horns similar to an antelope (more twisted)          ~Fingers with black clawed tips          ~Golden eyes          ~Pointed gold tongue          ~ Stereotypical spaded tail with a black to white gradient          ~ Two sets of wings                          ~White to black gradient and edged with blue fire                     ~When in enraged they are fully engulfed in blue fire

Human Form Physical Description:       ~Hair Color: warm tone Platinum Blonde       ~Hair Style: Short, falls to ears, whip dip       ~Glasses or Contacts: From time to time, more Rectangular frames       ~Eye Color: Fire Gold       ~Skin Tone: Pale       ~Contract symbol mark placement: His left side, junction between neck                                                                        and shoulder.       ~Height -- 6’3”

Special Abilities or Powers --

        ~Mind reading         ~Can pull out deepest desire            ~Dream walking         ~Veritas (forces those under his influence to tell the truth)         ~Trust (will gain the trust of those touched)          ~Mental Suggestion         ~Lust Touch            ~Levitation          ~Teleportation         ~Fire/Dark element         ~Conjuration (more below cut!)

~SD Q AND A (These are all questions from you! Specifically those in my server):~

1. What was Costello like before he became an infernal?

💛 Costello used to be a Celestial of love just like Val. If you split love into two separate entities it would be the passionate romantic side and the side that is all about protection and devotion. These types also reflect in both Costello’s and Val’s Infernal sides. Costello is more about seduction and Val is about possession and obsession. As brothers they tend to work together in their celestial sides. When they fell they split a bit.

2. When he isn't busy what does he do in his spare time?

💛 Oh thats easy! During his time in the Mortal Realm he spent a fair amount of time in the 1920′s era. It is where his style comes from mainly and why the Lust kingdom appears to have that kind of influence within it. He used to be a charismatic bartender during prohibition and that has kind of stuck with him. He enjoys crafting new drinks both for mortals and Infernals (since they can’t get drunk off regular alcohol). He is also an avid reader.

3. What kind of stuff does he read?

💛 Hilariously he enjoys supernatural romance novels because they fascinate him. Why would mortals be interested in a being that could literally end their life easily? As one such being he finds it both amusing and curious. He also reading them to see what mortals are uh... "into". Other than that he likes reading anything supernatural/gothic fantasy based for “research”.

4. Does Costello share the same view on humans as Val?

💛 Val and he at one point help similar enjoyments fo mortal kind. They found that they were were entertaining and rather sweet to observe when falling in love. When they fell all they saw was darkness not just from mortals but also themselves. How lust overwhelms your thoughts and drives you to commit certain acts. Their opinions grew apart when Val was corrupted by their father, Darrius. They only were both brought back due to their brother Nas and the mortal they meet later in time, Evelyn Rodgers. Their nickname for her is Starlight.

5. Does Costello like animals?

💛 Yes he does! He has a specific affinity for the raven. 

6. Does Costello have a favorite drink? Alcoholic and non alcoholic.

💛 He enjoys most drinks but specifically a Galaxy Cocktail but with an Infernal twist. When it comes to non-alcoholic I would say that he is more of a coffee connoisseur so things like Mocha. He enjoys sweet things but not to the level that Val does. (btw that cocktail looks like this)

7. Would Costello be willing to befriend humans?

💛 Before the fall, absolutely but after the Fall and before Eve? No. Humans are just tools for his amusement and entertainment. I should mention that Costello while his father is in power goes off the rails... and is extraordinarily dangerous only when Nas pulls him back from that does he mellow out. During the 1920's he still has a superiority mindset and a master of emotional manipulation. He is however far...FAR more mellowed out at this time which is why he humors Eve the first time they meet.

8. What are Costello’s responsibilities in his kingdom? 💛 It really depends on when in the timeline you are asking about. If we're talking before Nas ascends to the throne of the realm? Then Costello's duties were much less. He assisted Nas who was High Prince of Lust at the time. He studied and learned, ready to take over for Nas if the other needed to leave or otherwise. Now that he is High Prince himself? His duties include the hefty amounts of paperwork ensuring every soul is accounted for. New souls that hold purity to fall under Nas' new ruling, getting where they need to go if they landed in his kingdom. He also handles some punishments for the wicked. He has to run the entirety of Lust kingdom. Valentine... yanno... somewhere... X’D (trust me he probably isn’t the best one to ask)

~Souly Damned Timeline~

Creation of the Realms: The Celestial, Infernal, and First Mortal Realm come into being. The Infernal realm is closed off leaving the Celestials to guide and shape humanity. There are intermittent wars with the Infernal beasts and Imps when they manage to break their gates. The garden of Paradise was also created at this time which houses those most loyal to their “gods”. It is also a fact that the Celestial blooded creatures were created at this time (unicorns are a good example, light fantasy creatures). They were placed in the Garden.  

The Celestial Civil War: Darrius and his sons rebel against the ways of the Silver City only to be stricken to the Infernal Realm. After this event the gates to the Celestial Realm are shut and mortals are forced to fend for themselves. 

The Rise of the 12 Princes: The now fallen Celestials begin to corrupt the souls of the mortals present being known as the Seven Deadly Sins. The mortals are easily swayed by their new rulers dubbing them King and Princes. Each one with its own people and territory to preside over. In this time the Princes begin to succumb more deeply to their darker sides, now shunning their once Celestial blood. 

Blood Moon: A period of time in between the rule of the Princes in the First Mortal Realm where 4 Princes began to experiment cruelly with their own corrupted blood and the mortal soul. The Infernal blooded hybrids come from this part of the timeline such as vampires, werewolves, and the fae.

The Vinculum Infernalis (Witches/Warlocks): With the Celestials gone the mortals were now forced to fend for themselves. In desperation they plead with their Fallen overlords to aid them. A blood binding contract was struck between them giving them magical abilities and a new tie to the Infernal Realm. This was also the creation of the first covens.

Maintaining the Balance (Hunters): Enraged by the tilt of the balance of the universe in Infernal favor the Celestials decide to form a similar bond with mortals creating the first Celestial blooded humans. They would eventually be called the Hunters as their “divine” task was to eradicate the First Mortal Realm of the Infernal Blooded abominations now that the Princes favored the newly created realm.

Long Live the King no more: After millenia of creating havoc and bloodshed without consequences the Princes begin to doubt the leadership of their father. They have slowly changed their mindsets about mortals all together after so much time. Instead of destroying everything in sight and soaking the earth with blood they begin to have an attachment. Their fathers' ways are despotic so in response to this Nasaros, the eldest, usurps his throne.  A second war is waged between those of Infernal and Celestial blood turning the First Mortal Realm into an almost apocalyptic wasteland filled to the brim with monsters and ruins. The Princes lose the war doing substantial damage to the Celestial Realm. It was no longer habitable and so a new balanced realm was created for the mortals to live in peace without fear of Celestial driven war or demonic influences.  

The Locking of the Gates: The gates of the three Realms are shut and locked in the beginning of the birth of the New Mortal Realm. The Princes are forced to make a new Kingdom within the Infernal Realm to which they have been banished. This forms “Hell” in which the decisions of a mortal's life determine where they go. If they revel in the original 7 sins then they are placed in the kingdom in which they over indulged in. The silver City was once again open to those of virtue but only after death. With no direct interference from either side the humans evolved and advanced on their own. This is what we know as the world today while the First Mortal Realm was now labeled as an in between realm. One that would eventually be called Purgatory, the realm of beasts, monsters, and the supernatural.

Bloodswap: A story set after the time frame of Blood Moon and the creation of the Hunters. It is about 2 brothers that become infected with a vampiric blood that is now turning their town to shambles. The gates have been sealed and those forced to live in Purgatory struggling to survive. The mortals have progressed slowly despite being an older realm. They are currently in what we would consider the middle ages with the help of Celestial technology. Once the gates are unsealed for the New Mortal Realm a new world order begins to form. (Crimson would be proud of his new vampiric race that has slowly taken over Purgatory, now more civilized as the rulers).

The New Mortal Realm and Purgatory: Purgatory remains in ruins though there are mortals that live in this apocalyptic wasteland of a world. That also includes monsters and hunters. Over the Centuries cracks within this forgotten realm have released some of its inhabitants into the New Mortal Realm (NMR). The original bloodline of the first covens also were able to make it into this new world fleeing from Purgatory with the help of their Infernal masters. The Mortal Realm is now in the modern day where many of the Infernal or Celestial blooded mortals or beasts hide in plain sight. Even some of the most vicious have adapted to this new apparently “magic-less” world.

Note: The gates are no longer locked indefinitely for either of the two main realms; this is why demons are able to make contracts with foolish mortals. The Celestials have been forbidden from interfering for fear of repeating the past but that does not mean that they do not do so. It is rumored that around the world are organizations created to combat in secret those Infernal blooded that lurk in the dark. Meanwhile the covens are more focused on their own material pursuits having been persecuted for centuries (Salem Witch Trials as an example).

Ossibus Inferni (1920’s; NMR):

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

Main Plot Synopsis: During the era of the 1920’s a young lady named Evelyn Rodgers finds herself thrown into a Hellish Civil War. She is a small PI (Private Investigator) hurting for cash and jobs in a place wrought with problems. In an effort to make a better name for herself she begins to investigate the rise of crime and strange occurrences happening in her city. There are suspicious disappearances, missing persons reports, and extra violence that couldn’t be missed by human eyes, right? It just does not seem to add up. Determined and with nothing to lose she is able to put together a series of connections by using some none to savory contacts. 

She finds out that the potential epicenter of these events are tied to owners of one of the swankiest and popular clubs in town. It is suspected that it is a speakeasy but that is not what has drawn her attention. It would appear that the family running the place have been a mystery to nearly everyone even though they have been around longer than they can recall. No one knows what the owners look like due to usually having their signature fedoras on. Ones that she can place all around the city through various photographs. It could be anyone, right?

Regardless of the information that she has collected she decides to go undercover to the club, Ossibus Ignem (Fire and Bone), in order to confirm her suspicions. She decides that auditioning for one of their most prized gigs is a good way to get into their inner circle and perhaps get a glimpse of her potential employers. Eve wants the truth and nothing but the truth though this plan is incredibly risky. Even if the brothers, as she finds out later, are not the cause of these events they could still be nefarious. No one likes a spy, especially one that’s gained their trust.

As she enters she realizes that it is packed like the rumors have told her. She does not get out much due to her job but she is dressed to the 9s in a beautiful dress of the time ready to put her plan into effect. Instead of waiting around she heads to the bar where she is spotted by the seemingly charismatic bartender which she manages to strike up a conversation with. She tries to pick his brain over a drink that he generously slides her way. It would seem that the establishment is already breaking the laws of Prohibition. That much is already confirmed.

He seems like the friendly sort, platinum blonde hair and a dazzling smile. Eve being a PI calls into question how perfect he actually looks but puts the thought off. She could have sworn his eyes were far more vibrant than what was humanly possible too. When she glances at him again however they appear to be a light brown instead. Things are already strange as she continues to speak with him only to find out that he is in fact one of the brothers that work at the club. It turns out to be a family business. He introduces himself as Costello -. 

Eventually their conversation is cut short by Costello taking her to the back of the house where presumably his brother is waiting for her to do her little gig. She paces back and forth nervously in her dressing room only to not watch where she is going, running into a tall individual. His pinstripe suit, fedora, and bright red tie cause her to pause only to be greeted with a shiny golden toothed smile. The strange thing about it is that it is shaped into a fang/ canine tooth. It is a little off putting but the stranger introduces himself as the younger brother of the group, Valentine -.

This is someone that she had no doubt is in all the photographs that she had collected. Ultimately he seems nice enough telling her that if she needs anything to let him know and to take her time with her audition. He does appear to have a mischievous flirty side to him especially with her which she tries to distance herself from. He does not make that easy as she can tell he has already taken a special interest in her. 

She performs and it would seem that she has a pretty singing voice that leaves the entire crowd roaring in applause. This obviously catches the eyes of the brothers and she gets the gig. Other than a few of the accidental slip ups the boys seem fine with her being around them. She doesn’t pose any threat. After all, she is only human. 

Eve begins to enjoy her undercover position but finds herself slipping further and further away from her original objective. The - family puts her up in the loft above the club and treats her well. She learns more about them and more about the family itself. They are pretty open with what they do not even hiding the crime lord status that they are under. Being associated with the brothers is dangerous and therefore they want to make sure she understands what it means to be under the name of -. 

She is surprised by their honesty and immediately they gain her trust and vice versa. That is until she realizes why she is there in the first place. After one of her performances she manages to get into Valentine’s room, snooping around. Only to find something she wasn’t expecting of a bunch of crime mafiosos. Instead she finds arcane symbols, tomes, and various other occult items that would lead her to the conclusion that they are in fact dealing with something far beyond the mortal realm. At least that is what she thinks. 

The concern only grows when she finds a secret room with even more devilish items. One such item is a series of documents showing the various victims she had been investigating. On top of that information she finds even darker dealings then she suspected and papers scrawled with a script she has never seen before. As she turns to leave the room she freezes to hear Valentine’s voice. He is none too thrilled as he interrogates her but she can’t see his face. All she can feel are skeletal like claws at her shoulders. It’s all in her head right?

When he turns her around she is faced with him looking quite human explaining to her the predicament she now finds herself in. As her confusion grows he keeps her cornered only to be given two choices. One is that she binds her soul to him in the form of a contract and the other, death. Obviously she chooses to live. After this event she is able to see the true forms of all the Infernals in the club, having a panic moment seeing them mingling so easily with unsuspecting humans. Valentine, Luciano, and Costello are the most terrifying in form as they are skeleton looking Infernals. From then on she works in the club learning more and more about their true selves.

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[doomstypewriter]

would u do forbidden love, secret relationship moceit? i was thinking a pseudo-historical au, ideally with homophobia as the motivator for the forbidden/secret part but if u absolutely dont wanna do that janus being an outlaw would also work i suppose. just some whacky bois sneaking through windows to hang out, nearly being caught smooching, funny hijinks, then! sudden melancholy about how in love they are & never being able to show it

Finally, anon, I am done!!!!  I gladly present to you the final chapter, just in time for Valentine's Day (call that timing (once you read the thing you'll get this reference)). 

 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the chance to write something this cool! 

<< Chapter 1                                       AO3

We call it an affair because it's a forbidden romance 

Word count: 9376 

 Summary: Janus is dumb. He may be intelligent, but intelligence isn't at odds with poor foresight. So he makes a mistake that can get him killed. Romina is very gay and very angry. Patton is confused but does his best. Virginia is the only one with a functioning brain cell. Or, how a chain of misunderstandings almost ruins everything. 

 TW: Seemingly Unsymphathetic fem!Roman (not really, she is just feeling very hurt and angry and it is all resolved eventually), mild transphobia, mentions of blood, mentions of violence (there is a sword fight), mild misogyny, internalised misogyny, internalised homophobia, homophobia, mild threats of violence (again, the sword fight), swearing... I think that's all, but if you spot anything else tell me. 

Chapter 2: The rest of their lives 

The light raised above the darkness and it was morning again. In two days time, Patton would be meeting the countess, just so he could start properly courting her, not because his father wanted to get a title and land for his son. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. Scandalous even!

Reputation ruining…

Janus got up from his cot, unfit for the heavy silks that covered it, some stolen, some gifted by Patton. He looked at the things surrounding him. His house wasn’t so bad. It was in fact bigger than the places inhabited by most peasants, and a palace compared to the things in which people like him had to sleep… the things where he had had to lay in. The house consisted of one room, like most, but the size made up for the lack of divisions. 

This was a cave reimagined as a home. The walls had been lined with timber and thoroughly coated with stucco, the curving grooves of its application were not that noticeable, Janus was not a professional but he had certainly done his best. Aside from the absence of windows, it didn’t resemble a cave. There was a section of rock he had left uncovered at the very back, where water seeped out of the wall and provided him with a steady source of the thing. He would prefer not drinking watered-down stucco. 

He began to get dressed. All of his clothing was stored within a small but beautifully carved cupboard he had stolen from a manor in Bohemia. He had plenty of garments from here and there, five outfits in total! Stolen as well. 

In the house, what he hadn’t crafted himself he had stolen. Perfume bottles from France, boots and gold from the Kingdom of Aragon, a stiletto and a medium-sized silver mirror from the Republic of Venice… he even had two tapestries. 

But, even then, it was nothing compared to Villa Morandi. He surrounded himself with opulence to quench his thirst for wealth, the easy life of those above. His home was an illusion, a taste of richness, in which a poor man could pretend. This was not a place where Patton could live, let alone want to. 

If he was to spread rumours, then what? A plan of keeping Patton to himself would not succeed and his lover’s life would be as good as done. 

After packing his fanciest clothes and putting on the ones he used for travelling, he set to leave. He carried his stiletto, a grappling hook and a sword, all three perfectly hidden under his cape. 

Using a hidden pulley system, Janus moved the boulder that hid the entrance to the cave, returning it to its place afterwards. No one would find his home no matter how long he left.

The path down the slope of the mountain twisted and turned. Janus was in no disposition to waste time, so he went across the forest. Half-lost in the trees lay the cabin of a woodsman’s family. A while ago, Janus had left them a steed along with one florin. The family cared for the horse, not knowing exactly what to do. As the horse appeared and disappeared, bringing them thirty soldi each time, they began to get the gist.  Upon reaching the cabin, he headed for a well-built timber shed where his horse waited, fed and rested. 

He left thirty soldi on a small stool at the corner of the shed, mounted his horse, and galloped away. 

The Regio county manor was two days away by horse. 

Patton left yesterday, as his carriage would take longer to get there, stops and all, than one man on horseback. 

Janus paused at the base of the mountain. With one whistle his hawk surfaced from the sea of trees to land on his forearm-length glove. 

“You are to find Signor Morandi’s and Patton’s carriage. Follow them without drawing attention to yourself, find me and report to me at dusk. If anything urgent were to happen, come to my side immediately”.

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

His room at the inn felt quiet despite the muffled sounds from down below, where people chanted and told stories. 

The cool breeze wouldn’t be half-unpleasant if he wasn’t leaning on the ledge of a wide-open window. I also didn’t help that he was in his underwear. Father would certainly scold him for letting himself be seen in his linen undershirt. Some may think he was waiting for some disreputable company. 

It was more hoping than waiting. Also, Janus couldn’t possibly be disreputable. Out of costume, he had no reputation whatsoever. He liked to keep it that way. His real identity had no friend nor foe, in that he found safety. It had been hard to trust each other. Believe a criminal could be good. Let the son of a merchant become a friend, form an opinion of Janus, the original one. A part of him felt so proud, to see him grow, believe him, love him… another part found it sad for people to miss on such a wonderful person. 

Nights like this made him nostalgic. The first floors had tallow candles cast their diffuse glow onto the streets. Cobblestones seemed softened by the warm tint. Darkness rendered malleable to the light. It all made him miss Janus even more. 

The touch of his palm, holding the weight of his lazy head, a poor substitute to Janus’ hand. 

On such a night they had met. How scared he had been! A bit angry too… captivated as well, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time. 

Patton smiled in contemplation. 

He had spotted him right there, sitting out of the adjacent window, ready to jump and make a run for it. 

“Stop! You will get hurt, good sir!” at first he did not realise the true nature of what was happening. 

To think Janus could be harmed by jumping off a window! He knew better now. Balconies were his true weakness. Thankfully, the only balconies he climbed now were his. 

“Oh, I’ll stop at once. Care to join?” Janus said as he pulled a stiletto out of his cape. 

“You are stealing!” 

“I would never!” he feigned indignation.

“Then what is it that you are doing, good sir?”

Oh, Patton could still hear the laugh that had followed, velvety and insincere. It brought a chill up his spine. 

“Stealing, of course”. 

“That is vile!” 

“Is it? You’re all allowed to provide for yourselves by buying fabrics and goods created by others. Am I not doing as you do? Are merchants not thieves? How can you tell a vile man from another? What do you know of this world, dear?” 

“Well… I... I know for certain that the woman in that room, the one you are stealing from, sir, is not wealthy. She may look the part, but that is thanks to heirlooms. Her family has been impoverished for two generations”. 

“Does it make you virtuous to spread the secrets of others? Isn’t gossip frowned upon by those of…” he lifted his gold rosary from under his shirtfront with the tip of his blade “your inclination”. 

“I am merely explaining so you may be persuaded to accept my gold in exchange for returning her possessions”. 

“Why shouldn’t I just take your gold and keep her stuff too?”

“We may be allowed to provide for ourselves in ways others may view as vile, but should we condemn those who cannot on the account of not wanting to express vileness or having no means to? I do not mean to intrude, sir, but the thoughts behind your words betray your stance in this dilemma. You shall find more satisfaction in stealing what you believe was already stolen. A poor woman is not worth your pride, nor ridding you of the chance to make me lose mine”.

Janus frowned as if he didn't expect him to say something like that. Later he would confess to him that what shocked him was hearing him say something smart. It keeps on surprising him whenever he does.

"Quick, hand me your gold and I might consider it". 

"No, sir, I expect you to leave what you have taken first". 

He did try to hide his eagerness. But, how his cape rustled, once inside, betrayed him. What kind of thief was so noisy? He thought to himself. Once they had built trust, Janus explained that he had been quite shaken up by his offering. He neglected to mention the reason why. Patton imagined it was because he found his disposition to put himself in harm’s way for others ridiculous. 

The thief’s half-concealed face emerged from the window. 

"Will three florin do?" Patton asked, pulling his coin bag. 

Janus looked at the rich embroidered fabric almost in awe. If only, for a second. 

“I suppose…” 

“Well, then, there you go, sir”. 

His hands pried the bag open, ready to pull the golden coins. 

“Hmm…” 

“What is the matter?” 

“I could always just go back and get all the stuff”. 

“Is it not enough for you?” he showed him the three pieces of gold in his open palm. 

It was as if he could almost feel him licking his lips. The part of him, dark, often chastised, made him shake and quiver. His knees felt weak, somehow. This hunger in the thief’s eyes, almost akin to wonder, at the sight of gold, as if he had never seen so much before, it made him want to… dear Lord, no!

“To put such a price on mending the error of my ways” he laughed, staring right through him with those green eyes. Patton’s knees threatened to buckle for real.  “It isn’t very much, now, is it?” he leaned forward, and if Patton leaned as well maybe he could… what? Fall from this height for a pretty thief?

“What do you want, then?” 

That had been a first for Janus, Patton was certain. He didn’t quite get his reaction, but, picturing it again some days later he figured the thief was taken aback. 

“Uh… tha-that fancy coin bag of yours will do. Consider me a gentleman, I wouldn’t want to fleece you completely, the first time”. 

“Oh, I’m sure”. 

“Ha”, Janus stared at him in disbelief. 

Patton felt mortified. 

“I-I mean…” 

“Are you always this eloquent or is it just poor skill when it comes to existing?” the sentence did not sound as condescending as it should have, more like borderline flirtatious. 

Words would not come to him. 

“The coin bag, please”. 

His arm moved on his own, careful to avoid touch. It would be a bad idea to give this man a chance to tip him over the ledge. For a moment, he hesitated. This bag had been gifted to him by his father, he had two made for the two of them. It was two of a kind. But… the woman next door’s wellbeing was far more valuable than any piece of fabric. No matter how treasured. 

Janus dangled the bag from his pointer finger, right next to his face. Side-eying his price, he spoke again: 

“Looks like the virtuous are also the most stupid”. 

The thief readied himself to jump. Patton knew he had to say something, because, this moment, it told him he would regret it if he didn’t. 

“It is not about virtue, but goodness”. 

For a moment he thought he had heard him stop breathing. Then, he jumped. Patton jumped in his place as well. He couldn’t help but bring his entire torso out of the window. 

There he was! Running. He had made no noise in his landing. 

Just when he was about to disappear into the shadows, this weird new acquaintance looked at him one last time. 

Back then, Janus vanished for a while. Patton had come to learn that he would always return one way or another. 

Like now. 

A shadow moved, carefully, on the roof tiles at the other side of the street. Patton whistled, trying not to be too loud, not that anyone below would hear him. Knowing it had been spotted, the shadow flew to his side. 

“Hello, big guy”. 

After a rustle of feathers, the hawk landed at his left. 

“Why the grumpy face?” Patton laughed. “I know it’s just your brow feathers.  You’re so handsome” he caressed the top of the bird’s head with one finger. 

“He sent you all the way here. You must be tired. I don’t have any food for you here, but I’m sure I can get you something to drink”. 

Patton poured some water into a basin and carried it to the window, he placed it on the floor. 

“There, it’s supposed to be used to wash your face… I guess you can do that too if you want”.  

The hawk flew inside and drank it all dry. 

“You ought to tell Janus”, he began saying as he bent his knees, “to stop worrying so much. I am okay. I know he is concerned, but it will all be fine. Also, when you get home, ask him when is he going to let me visit, I’d love to go”.

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

The carriage clattered over the stone pathway. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but a pang of curiosity made it so Patton moved them, ever-so-slightly, aside to take a discrete look. 

Big was an understatement when one tried to describe the Regio manor. It was a three-storey building comprised of a first floor with a rusticated facade that had four small windows on each side, the centre being interrupted by a wide mason staircase presided by a classic structure of pilasters, then followed by an entablature and a pediment with the most ornate of tympanums. He imagined the staircase lead to the primo piano nobile. To both sides of the main entrance were two sets of four architrave windows built in perfect symmetry. Above it all, was the third floor, which mostly mirrored the second, but had a total of ten slightly smaller windows, as there wasn’t another central element to interrupt their flow. 

If this marriage agreement moved forward, one day, this would be technically his. It will be his wife’s, but, as spouses, they are supposed to share it all. Villa Morandi will be hers as well, it was only fair. 

A part of him felt bad for not having had the chance to keep contact with Lady Romina Regio previous to now. How was one supposed to feel when they get no say in who they marry? Father, at least, had asked him. Yes, he risked disappointing him, but, ultimately, the choice was his.  Will this woman, on the account of her status, be allowed such a choice? He feared her parents were the only people who would decide. Father too. Does she even want the father of her fiancé to take this from her? Is it right to deceive themselves like this, to have God bind them when no love is to arise from this union? Is a potential friendship worthy of the sacrament of matrimony? 

Patton knew two things with certainty: he wanted to be a good friend to Lady Romina Regio and he could not sacrifice his feelings for Janus to achieve it. 

They were guided inside by Virginia Fusco, Lady Romina Regio’s personal servant.

The entrance consisted of a corridor, divided into three naves, by two rows of ionic columns made of rose gold marble. Above that, there was a straight ceiling with five rows of twelve coffers, all richly painted with floral and geometric motifs. His boots looked cheap in comparison to the flooring they walked on. Big and polished terracotta tiles in a diamond pattern covered the ground, the corners were clipped to accommodate small white marble accents. 

Once they passed the entrance, this father was led upstairs by another servant, while Virginia instructed him to accompany her elsewhere. 

“I am glad you arrived here safely after leaving Villa Morandi. Has everything been well?”

She stilled for a moment. 

“Uuh… thank you for the kind concern, sir. Things in the house have been… busy due to the news of your engagement to her ladyship” she began walking again. 

“I was asking about you”. 

“Pardon?”

“When I asked, before, I wanted to know if you have been doing well. It must be stressful to be sent back and forth between the palazzo and Villa Morandi during the last weeks, especially being a personal maid to her ladyship, it is uncommon for someone like you to be used as a messenger”. 

“I shall do anything her ladyship requires. Any task”. 

“Oh! Sorry! I did not intend to say you would not”, Patton stopped dead in his tracks. 

Virginia turned around and stared at him in confusion. 

“I… when you first arrived I did not expect her ladyship’s personal servant to be at my home. Her ladyship’s maid is supposed to stay with her, so I thought something bad might have happened… The trip in between is not too long but done enough times it can prove to be energy-consuming”. 

Patton was met with even more confusion from Virginia, so he kept babbling in hopes of fixing his mistake. “Not that you would not be willing to put up with it for her ladyship, I am sure. I did also not mean to assume anything, that is why I asked in the first place, I only meant it kindly…” 

“Sir, it is alright”, she began saying. 

If Patton had not been as worked up with the conversation as he was he may have detected the slightest hint of amusement coming from Virginia. 

“Her ladyship is--”

“Oh! Oh, that too! I did not mean to not inquire about her ladyship’s wellbeing, part of me dared to hope I could meet her today and ask her in person…” 

“Sir, please, follow me. I am afraid we cannot keep the person I am taking you to waiting, you see, her ladyship finds it upsetting”. 

Patton laughed. 

It caught Virginia off guard. People were not supposed to behave so… openly within these walls. At least she wasn’t used to it. 

“You must excuse this man’s oblivious nature, I should have realised where you were taking me earlier”. 

“Sir, I am undeserving of your apologies. But, if we keep stalling, her ladyship will require one”. 

“Of course, lead the way”.

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

His horse reached the palazzo just in time to see the Morandi’s carriage passing by. 

Unlike his dear Patton, he did not have an invitation. Sneaking past the guards, an easy task if you asked him, had to suffice. 

The place was huge, it was to be expected from such a family. Janus couldn’t care less for the grandeur, not when he couldn’t get his hands on it, and that wasn’t the reason why he had come there. 

It would seem the Regio had it going on. The palazzo was relatively new, built, at most, fifty years ago. If you checked the list, all of the items relating to appearance did justice to the status of the family. Looking closely though… 

There were only two boys and an old man tending to the gardens. Gardens as big as everything else, mind you. So, clearly, they were understaffed. Which was precisely why Janus had been able to hide between a set of unkempt bushes to change into today’s costume. As long as he managed to avoid getting any leaves of brunches stuck, it would all be fine. 

Back to the Regio, though. If one was as much of an expert at judging other people’s wealth as Janus was, save that one time with a woman at an inn, it became obvious that the counts were missing on the money. Firstly, the manor had been built recently, but most certainly not after the war. Secondly, the guards were as many as one would expect, but not as… on guard -curse Patton’s sense of humour- as they should. This just told him they weren’t being paid that much. Then was the matter of understaffing. 

And, of course, Patton’s presence here. 

Janus had not forgotten Signor Morandi’s words. Patton could only afford to marry a countess because the Regio could not afford anyone less wealthy. 

The clothes were on and he was inside the house. 

Why did these people never put any sort of vigilance at the servant’s entrances? It never occurred to them that even if people wouldn’t steal their laundry, perhaps they would get in with the laundry. Pathetic. 

It made his life easier, though. 

He was in. 

He was in and he was going to… what? 

For starters try to find any dirt on Patton’s dear future wife. Maybe any belongings that could give him some leverage. Just to be safe. 

Janus knew Patton would keep his word, even if it destroyed him, and it would. Nobles always wanted offspring. Janus just wasn’t sure if Patton would be up for the task when someone did not have his pretty eyes and his masculine figure. 

Causing troubles for his beloved was the last thing he wanted. But, if it came to it, Janus would do anything. Whether that meant creating accidents, blackmailing or appointing a convenient kidnapping during a wedding night. 

He went up the servant’s stairs and reached a second-floor gallery, open to the courtyard below. 

Just when he was about to leave, his ears caught some hushed shouting coming from above.

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

“How could she do this to me!?” 

Romina stormed the third-floor corridor, without any bearing nor destination. 

“Your ladyship, please, we must go back!” Virginia ran behind her, speaking between her teeth. 

“Did you see him, Virg?”

“Yes, I did, your ladyship”. 

“I-- this is outrageous!” 

“I beg you, can we not have this conversation here, your ladyship?” 

Despite Virginia kindly pointing out that the third-floor gallery was hardly an appropriate location for such or any kind of discussion, Romina did not heed her request. 

“I was going to become a princess! And because of this, I am deprived of royalty! Because my sister fancies herself a man!” 

“For the love of…, you know what, no. I am tired of this. She dresses like a man, she talks like a man, she looks like a man and she feels like one. In which way is she, no, he, not a man?” 

Romina grimaced at her own words. Still, she was far too angry to let go of her resentment. 

“In the fact that he has no honour. He lied to me, several times. First by promising we’ll stay together. Then he did not care to tell me I had a brother, didn’t even trust me for that, and now he has abandoned me. And what for? He saw that pretty ‘scientist’ or whatever he calls himself and decided to follow him to the end of the world. How come he gets to be a pirate when I have to become a wife?!”

“Romina, please, shut your big mouth before anyone overhears us” Virginia warned. 

“So now I must be quiet!”

“Yes! For your sake, you dumbass”. 

“Well, I will not be quiet, you… you sonnetist of elegies!” 

“That’s not even a--” Virginia placed her hand on the bridge of her nose. 

As if to make her point clearer, Romina kept walking into the gallery. 

“I don’t care! You know why? Because now I have to replace him in a destiny none of us wanted, but at least he had been prepared for! What am I going to do?” 

“How about you begin by coming back--” 

“He leaves me like this, to be mocked and compared to him,--” 

“Oh Lord, why do I even bother--”

“--who ran away. How could he be so selfish!? Let me ask you this instead, how can a man surrender his word and his honour so readily?”

Then, Virginia stilled completely. 

She didn’t know whether she felt angry or deeply saddened.

“What wouldn’t any of us do to seize the freedom that we have forever been denied? And, who wouldn’t cast away honour to be free and loved? Can’t you identify with that, or are you a liar too?”

“I…”

“Is it Remus who you’re angry at?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I am still going to have to get married to some random person--!”

“Oh, shut up! At least he’s nice! Do you know what he did when he met me? Because he came to personally receive me, you see. He asked for my name! Not only that, but he remembers it. Just when I was taking him to see you, he asked me how had I been! Have you any idea how many people do that? You are so privileged you cannot get your head out of your stuck-up ass, Princess. Nobody ever cares how people like me are doing!” 

“Oh, so that is what this is about! Well, sorry I can’t pepper you with attention every waking moment, love--” 

“Fuck off, I already know that, stop making this about you!” 

“But it is about me!”

“You’re so lucky you get to marry a kind man! Any other person would just use his status to be a self-righteous narcissistic asshole, yes, Princess, like you, but not young Signor Morandi so quit mopping!” 

“Well, if you like him so much, then why don’t you marry him instead?!” 

Her hands gripped her apron tightly. Virginia could not bear her gaze at the moment. She bit her lip as if that could help her to cope with the backlash at the sheer stupidity of Romina’s words. 

“I am sorry”. 

“You… at least you’re… hmm…” she took a deep breath. In part to give herself time to consider what to say carefully, but, also, to calm down. “Male-inclined. I… your ladyship, if I did not serve you I fear I would only be any good left in a nunnery. You must understand, if I could choose who to marry, well, kind and considerate is not much of my type, as you must be aware. Neither is Signor Morandi”. 

“If…” 

Romina returned to her side. 

Her hands, littered with all sorts of rings, made Virginia’s hands give up on holding the apron. The labour-stained pair were squeezed safely. 

“Please, please look at me”. 

The request made Virginia want to refuse. But, aside from her position, these were the kind of situations in which Virginia could not deny Romina. 

“If I could choose who to marry, it would be one who would make me a princess, not on the account of status, but with word… if you know what I mean”. 

Virginia rolled her eyes. 

“The only one that dense here is you”. 

“The mouth on you. I am going to have to keep you by my side”, she paused for a second and then whispered, “my love”. 

Her gaze was most intense upon hearing that. The pair of dark brown eyes opening in a way that could be described as feline. 

“No nunnery could be at your level when it comes to sarcasm and bossing other women around. I, at the very least, can hold my ground for longer until you get me to do your bid--”

Finally, Romina was quiet. 

Virginia gripped her shoulders, squeezing the puffs of her dress’ sleeves, with the tips of her fingers touching against the golden netting that covered Romina’s chest. It was as if she was trying to drink the life out of those lips. Her very being was buzzing with want and anger. 

The bejewelled woman became pliant, yet passionate, under the touch. Bravery, whenever it surfaced in Virginia, was something to behold. Even more of a thing to experience. 

“Fuck” Virginia covered her mouth with her hands as she abruptly parted. 

“Likewise. Oh, I feel dizzy” she smiled. 

“No, not that way. I… shit… I just did...that! And here!”

“Now, now”, Romina grasped her hands. 

She caressed the base of Virginia’s thumbs with a devoted look. 

“Ro…”

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a voice came from the other side of the gallery.

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

The room was quiet. 

No. 

The room was completely silent and Patton had no idea what had gone wrong. He never intended to say something that could harm anyone’s sensitivities. It just never occurred to him that someone could be offended by a pun about the weather. 

This first attempt at friendship had not been… great. 

His father would certainly laugh at Lady Romina Regio’s decision to storm out of the room upon hearing a silly joke. He would make nothing of it. He’d say womanly outbursts were to be expected. Darn it, most people would say so.

Ignoring it would be simple. 

Patton could not ignore it. 

Firstly, it became clear to him that her ladyship had no say in her marrying him. Not only that, but she might feel strongly against it. Secondly, and most important, he intended to build a friendship with her. 

Considering the circumstances, the best he could do would be to find her and speak from the heart. If he explained to her that he meant no ill by making a joke, or to be insensitive by indulging in frivolities in the face of such a serious matter as their first meeting, she might feel better. And, if she still refused him, he could offer to call the entire thing off. 

Except that would be a terrible idea. Her family needed the money and going back on his choice would make her chances even more difficult. But, maybe, she wanted that. Her reaction pointed to it. Father would be very disappointed, the last thing Patton wanted was to be a bad son. But wasn’t it worse to force a woman into a marriage? Also, Janus. He’d be free to remain with him for longer. 

What was he going to do? He didn’t know what the right answer to this was.  

Talking to her. Patton could start by doing that, but first, he needed to find her.

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

This wasn’t the kind of dirt he had expected to find, but only a moron would look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

The servant girl’s passion came out of nowhere. He almost wanted to take notes. 

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”, said the countess, still entranced at the sight of her maid’s hands. 

She had just given him his cue, so Janus could not help but oblige. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said leaving his hiding spot. 

Instantly, they turned to look at him. The countess let go of the other’s hands in a jolt. Her demeanour changed in a second. So, not only was she a countess, but also a terrific actress. 

“Oh! Good day sir! Are you, by any chance, lost? My servant can…” she looked at the aforementioned. 

Her maid was having none of it. She eyed him suspiciously, ignoring how her mistress’ body language asked her to calm down. 

“Were you coming to see his lordship? I am afraid he is busy at the moment”. 

“Oh, well yes. I was sent by Marquess Sanders to inquire about a series of matters relating to war expenses” he said as he took off his cape. 

By revealing his outfit he hoped to gain some credibility. Looking rich always got people off your back. Especially when you carried a sword. 

The countess’ eyes lit up in recognition of his dusack. Dusacks were one of the main weapons sent by Marquess Sanders during the war, this one so happened to also have the family crest attached to the scabbard. 

Normally, he would have covered it to avoid getting Thomas into trouble. 

“Well, in that case--” Romina began to say. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I am sure her ladyship would first like to see the letters that his lordship always has his people carry”. 

“Is your maid often allowed to talk over you, your ladyship?” 

“I...uh…” Romina looked at her maid for help. 

“Well, that is to be expected, as she is allowed to do much more than that, is she not?” 

The maid squinted at him. 

“Oh, that thing? It was a… a token of friendship!” the countess proudly proclaimed. 

While she may be a fantastic actress, she surely was a terrible liar. The maid scoffed in the way Janus could not, whether it was due to hearing her lover say something that ridiculous or because of the awful lie he could not tell. 

“If that is how I treated all my friends I am certain my lovers would be confused”. 

Both women caught their breaths. 

“I would, of course, not be so indiscreet as to say anything, for a price, that is”. 

“What is it that you want?” 

“I’ve heard you are soon to be married--” 

The maid looked at him even more intensely, and then…

“Your ladyship, this man is deceiving you”. 

“Yeah, I can tell, we were just discussing--”

“You dense ass, not now, all the time! His money bag over there, it’s Signor Morandi’s!” 

Oh, fuck. 

Well, it couldn’t be helped. 

Janus unsheathed his sword and pointed it to the maid’s neck. 

“I suggest we keep this matter quiet, or else I’ll have to keep it quiet forever”.

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

Patton’s efforts to find Lady Romina Regio or her servant, Virginia, had not been successful so far. He had explored the main areas of the house, now finding himself at the first-floor courtyard. 

The smells coming from the kitchen, where the staff worked in their earnest to prepare tonight’s dinner, danced in the air. Patton sat at a stone bench, wondering what else he could do. His only chance would be waiting until both families dined together. He’d wish to apologise to her ladyship before that, so they could indulge in the dishes without any looming over. 

Then, the faint sound of a voice coming from above called his attention. 

It was barely hearable due to the clankings of nearby cooking. But there was no way he wouldn’t recognise it. 

“I would... be so indiscreet … price...” Patton could make out. 

Indeed, it was Janus’ voice. If that and the words ‘indiscreet’ and ‘price’ were anything to go by, he was blackmailing someone. 

Her ladyship was nowhere to be found and Janus was being Janus nearby. It didn’t take too much to put two and two together. 

Patton moved around the courtyard while staring upwards. 

There they were! He only had to find a way to…

Oh no. 

Janus was pointing his sword to Virginia’s neck. 

Before Patton could realise what he was doing, his feet were already running upstairs.

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

This would have been a great time for both of them to bail, hadn’t a sword been pointed at her. But, that's life. Some days you wake up next to your lover in her chambers with a deep feeling of dread over, well, everything; other days you are about to get basically beheaded, what can you do. 

For starters, Virginia was going to fight, because she didn’t feel particularly inspired to think at the moment. 

“Please, do not hurt her, I beg you”, Romina said. 

Wonderful. Virginia was either about to get hurt or be very lucky on her own accord. 

She quickly leaned back and ducked, taking advantage of the man’s attention being redirected at Romina’s plea. 

Definitely, she was getting hurt, not lucky, as the sword fell down on her with a swift swoop. 

That was it. 

Then, Romina pulled another sword from the pocket opening of her dress, crossing blades with the thief, but, most importantly, saving her life. She was going to be really cocky about it, if they made it out in one piece. 

“Well, this was a lovely surprise”, the thief said as Romina and he circled each other, edges sliding in a sharp sound, “but if you don’t give it up, you’ll end up maimed and, after that, let’s say… your maid may take a nudge downstairs”. 

Romina slid the sword away and twirled it back to strike. The thief had enough reflexes to put his dusack across his face before it got cut in half. 

A strong clank echoed all over the gallery and the courtyard below. 

“You foul fiend! You may be brave enough to threaten me, but your overconfidence in thinking you can get away--” she struck again, “with endangering her--” Romina turned them, making it so Virginia was behind her, as if to underline her words, “shall be your downfall”. 

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness” the thief began to say. 

He overpowered Romina by twisting their swords. She collided against Virginia’s chest after the villain shoved her away. 

“This has, clearly, proved how friendly you are. By all means, tell me, are you also willing to die for all of your friends?” 

His next move was more successful now that he had gained more range of attack. The thief plunged forward in a piercing motion. Romina stopped it with a backhanded sweep, then turned on herself, making it so his blade pointed to the ground. 

“I would die for her, any day”. 

Virginia did not have the right to feel as flustered as she did, not when they were in mortal danger. Somehow, Romina’s best romantic lines happened whenever she did not speak them directly to her. Seeing her look that fierce when fighting may also factor into it. Why did Princess always have to be so intense?

“Is this a confession? Scandalous!” 

“It is a promise”. 

There was a delicate balance between each other for a moment. Their eyes locked in a stare. 

It was so strange, Virginia thought. This man keeps on threatening them, but he hesitates. What was holding him back? Also, why steal a coin bag when you plan on blackmailing someone? Yes, it had to be planned, otherwise, the marquess lie made no sense, too much preparation involved for that to be a coincidence. Could he actually be sent by the marquess? But, why? The Regio and the marquess had had a wonderful relationship over the years. 

Something didn’t fit. 

The thief moved ever so slightly. Romina, clearly, wasn’t taking any chances.

In a display of quick reflexes, she side-kicked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards. 

While the thief struggled to regain his footing, Romina sliced through the cord keeping Signor Morandi’s coin bag attached to his waist. She smiled playfully. 

“For someone so smug, you are surely a clumsy opponent”. 

“I’ll give you clumsy” he replied stepping forward and thrusting with the sword. 

Romina blocked his attack effortlessly, but, soon, Virginia realised that wasn’t the thief’s intention. His right foot was just in front of the bag, ready to move it towards him like a hook. 

“Ro, the bag!” Virginia warned. 

She looked down and smirked. 

“This the price of greed”, Romina mocked as her sword turned to strike the thief’s right leg. 

The dusack crossed blades, again, with Romina’s before it could do any damage. 

“Your willingness to lose a leg over some gold only proves the worth of your lot”.  

He leaned closer to Romina, looking at her in the eye as he twisted their swords to get the upper hand. 

“You know nothing about me or what I stand for”, he said in a deep and menacing voice. 

Romina laughed in between her teeth. 

“I may not, but I know one thing”. 

“Oh, and what is that?”

“You just got distracted”. 

Romina’s foot slipped past the thief’s, kicking the coin bag away from him. He ran to his left while blocking Romina’s attacks at his right. 

What was so special about a coin bag anyway?

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

Patton began to hear sword fighting noises just before he reached the entrance to the stairs. 

What was Janus thinking? Engaging in a face-off with Lady Romina Regio, who not only was a countess with an apparent disdain for weather puns but also a remarkable swordswoman, had to be one of his worst ideas to date. 

While he had faith in Janus’ skills, he also knew that her ladyship’s fencing instructor had been fired, as a lesson, after she stabbed a man on the shoulder during a ‘casual’ duel.

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

The coin bag was kicked and pushed from one place to another by the thief and Romina while they dodged attacks.

“Is it the gold you are fighting for or is it your pride, villain?” she said, smirk reflecting on her blade. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to project your desires onto others? So honourable protecting her frail maiden!”, he pushed forward. “Still… it would almost seem, not because of the self-indulging banter, that you only duel to flatter yourself”.

“The one who is so set in getting a stolen coin bag dares to lecture me on selfishness!” 

Romina used her weight to stop him from making her retrocede any further. Her grin widened, satisfied in this victory. 

“Takes one egoist to know one”.

Right then, the thief made a sudden move. 

“Romina!” Virginia exclaimed. 

“I’m fine!” she said, wiping the bleeding cut on her jaw. 

The thief looked at the prized coin bag that he now held in his hand. 

“Loved beating you, but I think I will take my lea--” 

He was interrupted by Romina’s scream. Her sword wooshed several times in front of his face, barely leaving him time to bend backwards to avoid it. The dusack clancked against the floor. 

“Shit” the thief cursed. 

Things looked dire for the thief. With his sword out of reach, there was little he could do. Romina’s sword flashed by one more time, slashing through his left upper arm. Despite the painful burn of the cut, his left hand did not let go of the coin bag. Nevertheless, he fell on his knee, clutching the wound with his free hand. 

“I will make you an offering, villain”, Romina pointed at him with the sword, gloating over his tilted gaze. “Return Signor Morandi’s coin bag to me, and I shall let you go”. 

“Your ladyship, kindly get stabbed in the chest”. 

She turned his back on him, twirling her sword while at it. 

“As you wish”. 

Time froze before Romina could even think about delivering the killing blow. 

Virginia saw the thief reach for his boot, pulling out a stiletto. He stood up and positioned his knife pointing upwards. Because of this, Virginia panicked, already imagining the tip breaking through Romina’s lower back and into her chest. 

Immediately, she ran in front of the thief, head empty of thoughts, only consuming fear. At the same time, the thief began a descending motion, making Virginia realise where he aimed for. 

‘He’s going for her leg!’, Virginia thought. 

This would not help. When they crossed, the thief’s knife was at the height of Virginia’s gut. 

Virginia looked at him in terror. 

The thief looked at Virginia in panic. 

The fabrics of Romina’s dress could be heard twisting in the air, as she turned around, only to see the back of Virginia’s head. 

“No!” Romina cried. 

In yet another display of quick reflexes, the thief let go of the stiletto, just before it could do any damage. 

Romina only heard the blade fall as she shoved Virginia aside. 

She punched him on the left cheek, leaving the outline of her rings imprinted on his skin, red and slowly swelling. 

The thief’s boots staggered backwards. 

He fell face up in the middle of the gallery corridor. 

Faster than ever, Romina’s sword moved and settled its tip at the base of the thief’s neck, sort of mirroring how he had threatened Virginia. 

Virginia brazed herself against the wall. Her breathing heaved like the bellows trying to get the fire back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Signor Morandi emerging from the path that connected to one of the third-floor staircases. 

“Please, do not hurt him, I beg you”, he said while catching his breath. 

Romina looked upwards to stare at him. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Do you know this man? Did you send him?!”

Sometimes, Romina could outmatch Virginia when it came to reaching conclusions. This just so happened to be the worst possible moment. 

“I--” 

Only Virginia saw how the eyes of the thief went wide at hearing young Signor Morandi’s voice, his frown when Romina accused him. 

“Look at me!” the thief shouted. 

“Trying to protect your master, villain?” 

“That is not quite… this is a complete misunderstanding, if we talked--” young Signor Morandi began to say. 

“Shut up!” both Romina and the thief replied in unison. 

“Stop talking nonsense, your highness”. 

“Oh, so it is nonsense! He seems to know you, how do you explain that?” 

Virginia squinted at them, getting the sense that she was missing something more than ever. 

“Janus, please, let me tell them the--” 

“We now have a name for our thief!” she announced triumphantly. “So you do know each other! Let me tell you, Jolliest Caesar, he has betrayed you. Whatever you paid him seemed to be less than enough, so he stole your father’s coin bag”. 

Young Signor Morandi’s eyes went straight to said item, lighting up in recognition and some other emotion much harder to identify. 

“Is this the outcome you desired? I thought you were silly, I was... persuaded to believe you were kind. But, this? Do you owe your father so much disrespect?” 

He grimaced in response, looking away. Meanwhile, Janus pursed his lips in a thin line. 

‘Why does it matter to him?’, Virginia wondered. 

“Signor Morandi is an upright man, someone who carries himself proud and virtuous. I will not insult him by denouncing you to my family, but I hope you learn to have--” 

“Oh, poor and noble Signor Morandi! Rid of a coin bag, whatever will he do?!” Janus shouted.  

The gazes of all people present turned to him.

“It’s not as if he could buy another. Are we to pity him?! He is so good! You defend what you think to be the property of a man who would gladly pull any pair of lovers apart. Gift his son to a stack of classist swine in exchange for a title! What an estimate of his worth!”

One could almost marvel at him having the nerve to spit his anger even under the point of a blade. Romina frowned, taken aback.  

“But he’s so upright! Admit it, you couldn’t care any less about this ridiculous coin bag, you just want to use it as an excuse to keep your affair with your servant hidden. Am I the one you wish to kill or does it make you feel less powerless to pretend you’re stabbing another man? None of us gets a choice”.

Young Signor Morandi held his breath. 

Virginia let hers out. That was it! Of course! How could she not have realized earlier?

“Spilling my blood won’t change that! I may not be good, but I can at least see through the lies, and you aren’t good either. You’re as selfish as I am and you won’t get to keep her, we never do”. 

“What?” Romina answered. 

She looked at Virginia, then at young Signor Morandi, then back at him. 

“Are you seriously doing this? I could make these your last words! What is wrong with you! This is madness. I am about to die” she began to mock him, “let me make this moment into a speech about society and another man’s stolen money. Who does that? I know I am dramatic, but, at the very least--!” 

“Princess, shut up!” Virginia shouted. 

“Excuse me, I was only trying to give some fair critic--”

“Not the time. Also, you are completely missing the point! 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how we always talk after dinner?” 

“That is not what we do after…”

“Yes”. 

“So what is your point? Oooooh!” 

“Now you get it…” she closed her eyes. 

“They also talk…” Romina smiled.

“Hmm”. 

“And he is actually…!” she pointed back and forth between the two with her sword. “They are…!”

“We are, and if you would” Janus flattened himself against the floor. 

“Your ladyship, please, my Janus has had enough of sharp objects for…” young Signor Morandi looked at him. 

“For forever, put the sword away”. 

Romina did as requested and promptly offered a hand to help Janus get on his feet. 

“You are one menace of a woman”. 

“Thank you”. 

“What is going on?!” 

A large set of rushed footsteps accompanied the question. The four turned around to see his lordship, Count Regio, his wife, Signor Morandi and a myriad of servants. 

“Oh, father, mother!” Romina exclaimed. “Signor Morandi”, she greeted more formally. 

“Romina, what is the meaning of this?” said Count Regio. 

“Your lordship, your ladyship”, Janus spoke after a bow. “I was sent by Marquess Sanders”. 

Romina turned to look at him. His attire was mostly back in place, a part of her couldn’t help but be impressed. After spotting the family crest on Janus’ dusack, the counts’ expression changed from confusion to shame. 

“Romina, did you duel this man? Apologise this instant!” Count Regio looked livid as he spoke. “We already had to be rid of her fencing teacher, do not worry, Signor Morandi, we will also dispose of her swords”, Countess Regio reassured. 

In the scandal, Virginia was the only one to notice the coin bag forgotten on the floor. She stepped to the side, knowing no one would pay attention to her, as per usual, especially with such chaos. The coin bag disappeared under Virginia’s skirts, dragged by her foot. Young Signor Morandi walked past her and nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude. Perhaps one person did notice. 

“Your ladyship, that will not be necessary, I come as a new fencing teacher, an early engagement present of Marquess Sanders”. 

“But how did he know…” Virginia muttered. 

Janus did hear her and went on: 

“He was very impressed by the letters sent by your daughter. Marquess Sanders believes that someone with such impeccable diplomacy, and a disposition to secure the future relationship of her family, should not be deprived of outstandingness. To preserve such remarkable, dare I say, rare, qualities on a lady, he sent me. Marquess Sanders hopes my instruction can further her skills and aid her to grow more accomplished than ever before”. 

“Oh, that is fantastic to hear!” Count Regio said, looking a lot more uncomfortable than her tone would suggest. “But, Lady Romina, as you already are aware of, is engaged now. We ought to hear young Signor Morandi’s opinion on the matter”.

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

All eyes turned to Patton. 

“Actually…” 

For a moment, he doubted himself. 

Lying, as he had always been told, was sinful. But so was ignoring the struggle of the weak, breaking your word and not honouring one’s spouse. 

Most importantly, Patton had to honour his heart. 

If lying was the price to pay… well, so be it. 

“I asked her for a demonstration. I have always harboured a burning admiration for her dexterity with the sword. Her ladyship is truly heroic and radiant when duelling”. 

Romina turned to look at him.

It would seem he had managed to become friends with her after all.  

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

The moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. This was, once again, a clear summer evening, but it marked the end of an insane day. The sounds of dining and chatting had died out. Everyone, gradually, left for their rooms. Janus, crossing the gardens, intended to do the same. 

Climbing with a wounded arm made his ascend harder than usual. Luckily, the ostentatious facade of the palazzo gave him countless points to anchor himself to. Slowly but surely, he got to Patton’s open window. 

 As what felt like always, Patton held him by the lapels of his cape and pulled him inside. 

Rather than saying hello, Patton kissed him. It was gentle, devoid of the despair that had marked all their meetings during the last weeks. Patton pulled apart just as softly. 

“Here”. 

Janus stared at the coin bag in his hand and smirked. 

“Dear, if you keep on offering me your money you’ll turn into the worst noble ever, and I, the worst thief”, he said with no real smugness. 

Patton laughed. 

“Virginia retrieved it when nobody looked”. 

“I’ll remember to thank her”. 

“Please, be nice this time”. 

“You saw that?” 

“Yes. Janus, pointing at someone with… that thing… don’t do it again”. 

Janus shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again. A pair of hands pulled on his cape, that fell on the floor, forgotten. 

“I don’t think” Janus half-laughed, “I could get away with it again”. 

His bandages were fresh. The bleeding had stopped, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Patton stared at it and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I could have lost you today”. 

“You saved me again”. 

“Well, that isn’t entirely true”. 

“Oh, why would that be?” 

“You managed to stand your ground until I could save you”. 

“Call it good timing”. 

Patton smiled. 

“What’s so funny?” Janus smiled as well. 

“I’m happy. We… we are going to be together after this. I even gained two friends”. 

“You keep meeting the strangest people, dear”. 

“I’ll have to make sure that you kids don’t get hurt”. 

“We’ll try to be in our best behaviour”. 

Patton got closer and whispered:

“Liar”. 

Janus swallowed and stared at him, suddenly feeling defeated, yet happy about it. He loosened his belt, letting it fall to the floor with his dusack. 

It made an awful lot of noise. Patton looked down, almost in disbelief at Janus’ newfound capacity to make a sound. 

“Hmm. Where did you really get that sword? Romina could get in serious trouble if…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas won’t mind covering for me”. 

“Thomas? You know the marquess?” 

“Let us sit on the bed, I think that you deserve to know this secret”. 

Both of them got comfortable on the ridiculous wall of pillows placed against the headboard of the canopy bed. 

“I used to work for the Sanders family. Ever since I was a boy, I tended to the horses, which is how Thomas and I became friends in the first place. As we grew, he decided to make me his personal servant, and, aside from learning to lie as easy as speaking, I also learned I hate rich people. Thomas is okay though. I think you and Thomas are the only rich people I tolerate”. 

“Well, that’s rich”. 

“Patton! I’m telling you my tragic story!” he said, not at all bothered. “Anyhow, I decided that wasn’t for me, so I told Thomas. He was sad, but he respected it. Before I left, he gave me his own sword, I guess as a safe-conduct of sorts, maybe to remind me I could always come back”. 

“That is… a lot”. 

“I know. He’s a good friend. Believe it or not, I’ve never used it until today. I… couldn’t let you get caught in any of my… shall we say, activities, so I figured…” 

Patton grabbed him, mindful of his wounds, and pulled him close. 

“You need to let other people in, Janus. I know I’m kind of silly, but I can still help. I wish you could see that when you let people know you they want to be on your side. You are someone worth knowing”. 

“And you are more of a bastard than people give you credit for”. 

His laughter made them shake a little. Janus stared at Patton’s joyful expression feeling satisfied. 

“I guess I am”. 

“Pity you don’t want to do anything wicked with it”. 

“I’ll leave that to you, just, tell me beforehand”. 

“How else would I be saved last minute, dear?” 

They stared at each other for a while. It hadn’t fully hit Janus until now that this, this thing right now, would be his life from now on. Thinking that, perhaps the world wasn’t as cruel as he had always made it to be. 

“You are so good”. 

Patton kissed him again. 

“Only when nobody’s looking”. 

“Jan, name’s Patton, not nobody”. 

“You think you’re so funny”. 

“Am I not, when I make you smile like this?”

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

Taglist: @joylessnightsky , (the following interacted with my tagging request post, so I assumed you wanted to be tagged, if not, please tell me) @jerasings , @daemoade , @grandhairdofarmgoop . 

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Mermay - Dilliam - Operation Renovation!

While working on Mark and Celine’s house, William has the bright idea to bring Damien inside to help give him a second opinion. It’s another chance for both to learn more about each other, and for William to realise he caught feelings for the cute merman.

Word Count: 2,046

-

William and Mark mutually agreed to stay away from the Rockpool that night, bar Mark briefly hurrying down with dinner. Whatever happened between the siblings would stay between them. William had a hunch that Damien felt isolated from his family - and even his sister he adored - because it seemed difficult to find middle ground, but William kept that to himself. 

As he went to bed that night, William was drawn to the window to look out over the sea. A glimmer of light could be seen at the Rockpool, seeming to only emphasise the distance between the house and the coast, as well as between the twins. If there was a way to help them re-establish a connection, he would.

Opportunity arrived two days later. William had spent the entire of the first day painting the living room to freshen it up, and was unexpectedly left alone to handle the redecoration part on the second. Celine, who was supposed to be there, was called into work urgently. William always preferred having a second opinion on matters like this and was nearly about to abandon his plans for the morning when the breeze hit the chimes just outside the kitchen window. He turned to see the garden and… Of course!

-

"Damien!" William scrambled down the rocky steps, screeching to a halt just beside the water. "Damien, you here?" He could see small bubbles popping on the surface just beside the large rocks. Then, after a few moments, Damien's head slowly rose over the water. His eyes were half-lidded as he peered up at the source of the loud voice.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't think you would be asleep. I can come back-"

"No, it's alright… What's wrong?" Damien pulled himself out of the water to sit on the path. He began stretching to undo the effects of being curled up all night. William couldn't help but stare at how toned the merman was. Damien's body had more bulk to it to help keep warm in colder climates, but it was well defined between the lack of patterns on his body and his current stretches. William had to quickly snap himself out of it before he was caught staring in a daze of awe.

"I'm trying to rearrange the living room space and have been trying to decide where I should… what are you doing?" With his back still to William, Damien interrupted the other's train of thought by lifting his hand and turning the palm up.

"Pass me your phone."

"What?"

"Show me the photos and I'll tell you what I think."

"I never said anything about photos."

"Then I can't be of help."

"Poppycock. You're coming back up with me." William's suggestion had Damien finally turn to face the human. Even with what William could only describe as 'merman bed hair', Damien's accusatory look was sharp.

"I cannot walk, remember? I'm not of the species that can magically shapeshift -" Now it was Damien's turn to trail off as William let out a snort of laughter.

"You know, for someone who is so smart, you're awfully fond of jumping to conclusions and thinking you know what I'm going to say, huh?" William put his hands on his hips as he grinned. "No, no, dry your tail! I'm carrying you up! And no - I know that look from Celine - don't try and argue, I've made up my mind. Unlike Mark, I've spent years in the army. I'm a strong man. Have you even had a chance to see the house yet with your own eyes?"

William’s observation stunned Damien into silence. William was right - why did he keep assuming the worst of William? Was the simmering anger from yesterday influencing this, or was Damien really expecting the worst of humans?

"Only in photos…" He finally answered after a short pause. Damien was bewildered that William was even considering this after how Damien had behaved yesterday. "But you must know my tail is -"

"You won't know until you try. Come on, chop chop!"

Damien sat on the picnic bench, shaking the tip of his tail of extra moisture while William properly examined the merman's body to decide how best to carry it. At a glance, his tail was longer than his torso, and the eye-catching tip was large and potentially awkward if handled wrong. But William’s thoughts briefly strayed as he admired the colours. Damien was rather handsome. Not only that, he had such a wonderful personality (when he wasn’t jumping to conclusions) that William genuinely enjoyed the other’s company. But right now, he needed to focus. The last thing he wanted was to make the merman uncomfortable. Hoisting Damien over his shoulder was rather undignified, so it would need to be bridal style at a higher angle. 

He grunted at his decision. It caught Damien’s attention and he lifted his head in time to see a smirk peeking out under William’s moustache.

"I'm starting to think that is the 'I have an idea' look Mark had warned me about," Damien muttered as the soldier approached. Establishing how best to pick up Damien was a little awkward - "We'll get the hang of it!" William insisted - but they managed it. Damien wrapped both arms around William's neck and held on for dear life with such strength he was sure he’d leave marks on the skin. One of William's hands was at the base of the torso, while the other arm had the tail draped over it. To Damien's amazement, there was no sign of struggle from William once they settled.

"I can carry twice my own body weight," said William with a wink, like he read the merman's mind. With that, they made their way up the steps. William's eyes were on the ground to watch his footing, while Damien needed time to recover from that damned wink.

-

The initial reason for William bringing Damien into the house was ignored as Damien was taken aback by a moment of awe upon seeing the house for the first time. William decided that Damien absolutely needed the 'grand tour'. It was the right choice, as Damien was curious to learn more about the house beyond the photos he had been shown. William was able to point out the various jobs he was required to do while here until, finally, it brought them to the chaos that was the living room. Damien could see why William wanted a second opinion. All the furniture was grouped together in the middle of the room. It was quite a sorry mess of eccentric items that needed to somehow find new homes within the room.

Damien was sprawled across the couch - the end of his tail casually dangling across the far arm of it - as William set to work moving items to and fro as Damien instructed. Neither homeowner being there was a blessing, as William discovered that Damien had a very good eye for object placement and how to make a room look nice. Damien laughed and admitted that it was probably due to the natural merfolk love of beautiful things combined with a human awareness of furniture and ornaments.

The pair chatted throughout the morning as William completed the heavy work (not that Damien minded that he had to watch the human flex his muscles and show off that strength). This was how William learned that merfolk are not as materialistic as humans. A normal human home would be too 'cluttered' for them. There was little need for 'the latest and trendiest goods' in a merfolk's life in the same way as humans needed them, but those that had trinkets or ornaments knew they would never be stolen since they only have sentimental value.

"Is it true that merfolk like jewellery, since those are pretty valuable?" William asked as he showed Damien a mermaid figure before he could put it on the shelf.

"It is. It's purely aesthetic. The value of the materials mean nothing. I once met a young mermaid who had one of those bright, plastic bracelets a human child would wear. She valued it so much that when it went missing, the entire community banded together to search for it. I realised that an item imbued with sentimentality should be the most important value in my life, not how much money is used on it. Though there is a natural draw to gold because it isn't as unpredictable as silver in the water."

"At least the movies get something right. So what about the nesting-whatchamacallit - they aren't 'homes', right?"

"Right. Merfolk communities normally have a shared 'living space' that we call 'nesting grounds'. These are areas that are sheltered, mostly shallow, and open. It's a communal area, so it's ideal to have enough room for everyone to socialise without the danger of being swept away by storms. There are small nooks and crannies that are used for nests, which are a merfolk's personal spot for sleeping. Everyone knows to leave another's nest alone. Messing with the nest or the items near it without permission can land you in a lot of trouble." Damien paused, eyes drifting to one of the seascape photos on the wall. "The nesting ground I've been welcomed into has our distant relatives in it. Their home is situated amongst the coral reef. There's always colour there, along with whatever 'souvenirs' are brought to either share in the communal space or for a personal nest."

"Huh....Sounds like the dorms in the barracks I'd stay in. We'd have individual beds and lockers, but that's it in terms of 'personal space'. Everywhere else is communal." The comparison, though not perfect, was close enough to help William gain a better understanding of Damien's world, and of the setting for Celine and Mark's home. "So… Would that make the land part of the Rockpool the nesting grounds, and the small section under the water by the rocks your nest?"

"Yes, I consider it as such. I like it as it is. I don't see why it needs to be changed."

Realisation dawned on William. That explained Damien's offense at the mere thought of the space being changed. If everything was fitting for a merman, why humanise it? There was a solution to this, he was sure of it!

The pair took a break in the afternoon to bring Damien into the bathroom to get some moisture back into his body - the handheld shower head made this a lot easier - and have some lunch. Then, as William was asking Damien his opinions on which colour would better suit one of the empty rooms, Celine returned. She thought William was merely talking out loud as usual and was pleasantly surprised to see her brother lounging across three kitchen chairs, waving innocently at her.

-

And that was how the pair spent the next week. Each morning, William would set up and go on a long walk to strengthen his leg and explore the area, then fetch Damien so they could spend time together while William worked. Mark had gotten his hands on a wheelchair, which William then spent half the night refurbishing it to support a long, heavy tail instead of two feet. It gave Damien a little more independence when in the house… As well as the ability to ram into William with it when he was fetching items. The three humans agreed that it gave Damien a new lease of life once he was able to be involved in a way that was suitable for him. Some days he would ask William to bring him back to the Rockpool so he could spend the afternoon alone instead, and that was a request that was always respected.

However, as the week went on, William found he would spend his evenings at the Rockpool, regardless of whether or not the others joined him. He found Damien to be such good company… and feelings had taken root. But with how adamant Damien had been in not wanting to be humanised, he decided it would be best to keep it to himself. 

It didn't help that Mark gave him a knowing nudge one night when they were heading back into the house and seemed to be blissfully oblivious to William’s threat to keep it to himself.

[alexadru]

White Knight - Pay & Play to Win (Fate Grand Order edition)

Weiss had often wondered what made Ruby waste so much of her time on her scroll and when she had asked the question one day, her leader had simply shown her.

Fate Grand Order. 

That was the title of the mobile game Ruby was sinking at least a couple of hours a week. Time which she could have spent improving her grades and becoming a better leader. The young girl was the face of team RWBY, after all, and Weiss would not settle for less than the very best.

That said, she did not have any particular complaints about her progress over the months, but she disagreed with all the time she was wasting pointlessly on a silly game. 

A fact which she voiced without any restraint and which incurred another childish (in Weiss' opinion) argument between the two girls.

Ruby: "It's not childish! It's based on the greatest heroes from Earth's history, their stories and it has many life lessons. Plus, it's fun."

Weiss simply shook her head at the absurdity of her argument. She found it hard to believe that some fictional characters and their half thought out stories could ensnare people into playing that game for hours.

Ruby: "Why don't you give it a try first before you say it's childish? I bet you'll change your mind."

Another absurdity uttered by her partner, but, against her better judgement, Weiss, decided to give the game a try. If nothing else, but to prove Ruby wrong. 

After an entire week and a lot of wear to her scroll's battery, Weiss would have an epiphany and would, begrudgingly, agree with Ruby. This game was fun.

From the intriguing story, the likes of which Weiss had never seen or read to the beautiful art of the characters, the heiress could say she was hooked. She continued to play regularly, enjoying the experience as she continued to make progress through the story.

Weiss had not reached the point where she would spend money to get certain characters like she had heard from Ruby that some players did. That was until she saw him and she literally fell in love.

After spending a substantial portion of her allowance to get him when he was in the gacha, her joy could be heard across campus as she literally screamed like a fangirl when he answered her summons.

Her object of adoration? The servant Saber, King Arthur. He was everything she dreamed about. From his kind, loyal and slightly playful attitude to his charming, soft looks which made her blush every time he'd give a smile when she would level him up.

These were all traits that she had voiced quite often to her team, which was present in the room on the day the Weiss alarm rang for the first time. Weiss talked so casually about the game these days that it showed just how much she was sucked into this world.

One Saturday, as Weiss was farming like mad for materials to make her prince perfect, Ruby said something that changed her perception on life.

Ruby: "Hey, Weiss. Don't you think that Arthur is kind of like Jaune?" The girl commented as she busied herself leveling up a well known red Archer.

The innocent remark was met with the heiress looking up from the device abruptly, ready to refute the claim and defend the knight. However, Weiss stopped short to consider her words for a few moments. Moments which turned into seconds which then turned into minutes. Her eyes widened as if she reached a revelation. 

Ruby... was right! 

Abruptly, she jumped on her feet and walked out of the room with hurried steps. The rest of team RWBY heard her knock on JNPR's door. It opened moments later.

From the other side, Jaune had answered with a bit of apprehension. It wasn't often that someone would knock so loudly on his team's dorm room, except for Nora when she'd forget her scroll. What he didn't expect to see in front of his eyes was the familiar figure of his former(?) crush which he was trying to move on from with little success.

Jaune: "Weiss? Is everything alright…" The boy didn't get to finish as her hand grabbed his wrist, earning his full attention.

Weiss: "Come with me for a bit!" 

Unable to resist, he was dragged away by the small girl. Weiss had surprised him by how strong her grip was as she led him somewhere. The poor boy was caught so off guard, he couldn't do anything.

30 minutes later, Jaune found himself in the changing room of a store. It wasn't an ordinary store, however, but one that specialised in cosplay. Outfits belonging to famous fictional characters were sold here and for some reason, he found himself ready to change into one.

Of all the places in Vale, he did not expect the girl to bring him here. Nevermind the fact that she had given him an outfit and was told to try on, something from a game Ruby played if he remembered correctly. 

It was very unusual from the normally serious Weiss he knew. Still, he begrudgingly started undressing and putting on the outfit, having a new-found appreciation for the people who enjoyed cosplaying.

Weiss waited outside the changing room for 10 minutes, her mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. All ranging from curiosity about how Jaune would look to her slightly panicking that she acted so out of character and dragged him without giving a single explanation.

Looking at her feet she considered her thoughts about the boy and found that she didn't know how to feel about him. Given what occurred in the last few months, Weiss genuinely didn't know the nature of their relationship. She never thought of him much before and only recently started noticing him.

Her head snapped back up when she heard the door open.

Jaune had exited the changing room looking awkward. His steps were hesitant as if he didn't know how to walk properly in the extravagant armor. Oddly enough, despite having more layers on him, he felt a lot more exposed as if a lot more eyes were on him. Which could very well be the case, the store was huge and packed with other customers.

In his personal opinion, when Jaune checked himself in the mirror before exiting, he found that the look suited him. The blue went well with his eyes and while the silver armor was not that special, the gold accents brought everything together, matching his hair as a bonus. 

However, he looked nervously at the girl who had dragged him here. Jaune didn't know why, but he felt that she had done this for a reason and while she didn't share that reason, he hoped that he didn't disappoint her.

Weiss was quiet. Almost unusually so, despite her normally verbose self. She had seen the boy exit the changing room, donning the clothes she had picked for him and her mind came to a halt.

Baby blue eyes danced around, drinking in the sight of Jaune cosplaying the prince of her dreams. The boy who had both annoyed her the most and had been the kindest to her.

Weiss: "Jaune, would you smile for me, please?" She requested quitely.

Jaune: "What?" He didn't have a good feeling about the situation. Not with how quiet Weiss was being, her previous scrutinising gaze only adding to his nervousness.

Weiss: "Just… just give me your best charming smile."

And her weird requests kept coming. Jaune was smart enough to not question them, so he did as she requested. He tried to smile once, but it felt shaky, so he stopped, took a deep breath and tried again, his thoughts on how the beautiful girl in front of him made him feel before.

Weiss' breath hitched in her chest as she looked at him. It was impossible how well he fit the look. Everything from the blonde hair, his tall and lean physique to his boyish face was a near exact match to the Saber Servant. The only discrepancy was the eye color, deep blue instead of aqua. No less perfect in her vision.

Her face burned.

The old saying turned out to be true. The clothes did make the man and in this case, they made Jaune into her dream.

Jaune: "Weiss?" He stopped smiling and was a bit worried that she had yet to say anything. 

His words seemed to have been a wake up call as she acted almost immediately. Abruptly, her small hands pushed Jaune back until he was inside the changing room again. The surprise gesture made him trip and fall on his butt inside the small room.

Weiss had followed him inside with no hesitation. After closing the door, she wasted no time in straddling him by sitting in his lap and giving him a deep, hot kiss, catching him completely off guard.

They broke it off after nearly a minute. The two panted as they struggled to regain their breaths, Weiss managing to do so much quicker.

Jaune: "W-weiss? Why di…?" To say he was shocked was an understatement. This went beyond anything he expected to happen when she had dragged him with her.

Weiss: "Where have you been all my life?" Her purring voice nearly made him melt from all the affection it held.

Jaune: "I-I've literally been asking you out for weeks." Did she really not notice him all those times?

Weiss: "Nevermind that. What matters now is that we're here and we can do whatever we want." To prove her point, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward until her body was pressed completely against his, feeling everything. She pressed her forehead against his, the intense gaze in her eyes sent shivers down his spine.

Jaune: "I think I need an adult…" As freaked out as he was by her gesture, he could not deny the butterflies he felt in his stomach or how hot his cheeks felt. Weiss Schnee had kissed him and it made his heart start a marathon in his chest.

Weiss: "I'll make a King out of you." With a slow, sensual lick, she wet her lips and captured his again. This time, her fingers went through his hair as she got lost in the sensation. Weiss nearly moaned when she felt his hands on her slim waist, pulling her closer as he began reciprocating.

They continued like this until the staff found them and kicked them out for indecency. Weiss managed to somehow buy the outfit anyway, though. 

Now they simply walked around Vale with the heiress hugging his right arm to her body closely and leaning her head against it. The boy blushed all the way, but remained quiet. 

The day had only begun for them.

[owletstarlet]

For a prompt, maybe a Tanunatsu college AU? I'm sort of picturing something where Natsume is visiting the shrine for a weekend and Tanuma is trying not to focus on the fact that his boyfriend now has earrings

(*insert profuse apology for how long this took here* I had initially wanted to get this posted in time for @natsumeweek as one of the prompts was “future” but I guess this is more an early happy-September-birthday-to-Tanuma fic... 

ao3 link in the comments.

When the doorbell rings, it’s a near thing for Kaname to not spill his tea all over the keyboard. He has to remind himself several times on his way to answer it not to look as ludicrously eager as he feels, as though his heart might float right on up and out through the top of his head, in case it’s a mail carrier or a maintenance worker at the door.

It isn’t.

It takes all of a second and a half before Kaname’s got his arms full of him, face buried in his hair.

“Hi,” he mutters, voice muffled against the top of Natsume’s head.

“Hi,” Natsume says back, and Kaname can hear the grin in his voice, feel the arms coming to rest around his waist.

They stand like that for several seconds, in the genkan with the door wide open, and Kaname can feel all the tension he’s been holding for six weeks bleed out of him. Eventually, he asks, “How was your flight?”

“I liked it.” His voice is just as muffled against Kaname’s shoulder. “Sensei didn’t.”

“Really?” Kaname finally pulls back enough to see his face. He looks well, relaxed and smiling, the barest dusting of freckles across his nose from time spent outdoors, and it’s almost enough to push a month and a half’s worth of swirling images and morbid what ifs out of his mind. “You’d think Ponta would enjoy flying.”

Natsume rolls his eyes a little, but there’s something fond in the set of his mouth. “He complained the whole time, about being stuck in human form, and kept saying it was unnatural or something to be up so high where he couldn’t even see the treetops past all the clouds.”

Kaname grins at the thought. “Where’s he off to right now?” He pulls Natsume into the genkan, finally lets him go so he can get his shoes off.

“Probably off getting drunk. Or begging snacks off Touko-san. She was pretty happy to see him.”

Natsume’s been up in Aomori for a little over a month, on a few jobs with the Matsuokas. Field training, as Natori had cheerfully put it to Kaname over the phone. And Kaname hadn’t been thrilled about that, but had felt marginally better to hear that Natori would accompany him for most of the trip.

The Matsuoka clan wasn’t particularly prominent or large, but they were well-funded and well-connected. It was Natori who’d reached out to them over a year ago, once Natsume had given his slightly grudging consent to it. Since then Natsume’s been living two and a half hours away in a spacious apartment and attending a university to which the Matsuokas happened to be generous donors. In exchange for this, and their tutelage, Natsume accompanies and assists them with exorcisms. They’re apparently pleased enough to have him, and Natsume’s told Kaname that they haven’t asked him to do anything he’s opposed to; it’s often either binding a harmful entity or else simply sitting down to listen to whatever it is the troublesome youkai-of-the-day is after. But despite Natori being on good terms with the head of the clan, he’d had to make it perfectly clear that Natsume had no interest in longterm recruitment. Or, at the very least, that potential adoption into the clan was to be a decision that Natsume would be entirely free to turn down.

Kaname himself, meanwhile, hasn’t gone anywhere since graduation. Natori had floated the idea of Kaname joining Natsume, that the Matsuokas be perfectly willing to take him on. And, admittedly, the prospect of learning how to defend himself, and others, with the basics of exorcism under his belt had its appeal. Especially since a big factor in Natsume’s own decision had been an ugly encounter with some cave-dwelling youkai that had landed him in the hospital for weeks, an incident which had ultimately led to the truth--or parts of it, at least-- spilling out to the Fujiwaras. Kaname still has nightmares about it.  

It was ultimately the prospect of being able to go with Natsume while he was out on a job instead of having to sit around and fret about it that had had Kaname prepared to agree to the offer. But then Dad had needed knee surgery, and a complicated one at that. And Kaname learned very quickly just how much work it takes to run a temple essentially on one’s own. Theirs was part of a larger organization of temples in the prefecture, who had arranged for Dad to be sent here in the first place. To be fair, they’d been as helpful as they were able, and are still paying Dad a salary. Another priest would come two or three days a week to fulfill necessary duties and rites and enabling them to stay at least partially open to visitors while Dad recuperated, and a maintenance worker would show up once a week to help Kaname care for the actual grounds. But Kaname still typically spends the better part of his week at the desk of Dad’s cramped office poring over order forms and spreadsheets he doesn’t always understand, attempting to balance the books of a little temple that barely takes in enough revenue to stay afloat even with the organization’s support. He’s gotten better at it, and Dad’s helped a lot, but even though he’s  recovered enough to receive visitors and resume some of his religious duties, Kaname still tries to keep him out of the office most days so he can get some rest.

Still, Dad worries, not only that Kaname is overworking himself but about how his friends have all gone off to school, how he rarely leaves the temple grounds unless he’s running errands. He knows about Natori’s offer regarding the Matsuokas, Kaname’s discussed it with him. And though he’s made it clear that it’s ultimately Kaname’s decision he’s made it equally clear that he likes the idea—both for the sake of Kaname’s mental health and for the prospect of him learning how to better protect himself. On occasions when Dad’s pushed himself too hard and worn himself out, Kaname has threatened to accept the offer but go on to major in accounting just to get hired on by the temple organization and then end up right back home. But he has to admit, he’s been dreaming of it—of the airy kitchen that always smells just a bit like the tea Natsume drinks in the mornings, of the sun-dappled corner where Sensei likes to curl up and nap, of the balcony overlooking a cityscape both unfamiliar and beautiful in its own way, the mountains that look blue in the distance. Of waking up to Natsume’s cheek squashed against the pillow beside him, safe and whole and wonderfully there. He’ll probably have to wait until the next academic year begins, but he thinks it wouldn’t be so bad at all.

“I have something for you,” he tells Natsume now, scooping up the backpack Natsume had set down while taking off his shoes. Natsume smiles, tilts his head just a bit in question. But when he does, Kaname sees something, a glinting just beneath his hair on one side. He blinks, steps forward to brush Natsume’s hair back. “What’s—”

And when he sees what it is, he thinks his face must do something odd, because Natsume’s smile has faltered a bit, turned sheepish. “I actually thought you’d have noticed them already,” he says.

“I left my glasses by the computer,” he murmurs, and he thinks he’s staring. He should probably stop staring. “And your hair’s gotten longer anyways.”

Natsume shrugs, looking a touch pinker than before. “It’s just on the one side.” A pause. “It doesn’t look weird, does it? I don’t really trust Natori’s opinion.”

“It’s not weird.” The answer is immediate, almost embarrassingly so. He realizes they haven’t moved from the genkan, and that he hasn’t quite managed to quit staring, so he takes Natsume’s hand and tugs him towards the kitchen. He hopes his palms aren’t as clammy as he thinks they are.

There are two hoops in his left earlobe, side by side, one silver and one gold, catching the light from behind strands of pale hair. They’re subtle enough—Kaname doesn’t think the tip of his little finger could fit through either—but the sight of them makes the air stick strangely in Kaname’s throat.

“Did they hurt?” he asks, a moment later.

“Not really.” Natsume takes a seat at the worn kitchen table, hand hovering up near his ear in a way that’s half considering, half self-conscious. “Right when they do it, yes, but not so much after.”

Kaname goes to get Natsume a drink, but pauses with his hand on the refrigerator door, considering. “Any particular reason you got it done?” he starts, tone as light as possible. If Natsume’s already shy about it, Kaname doesn’t want to make it worse, but he can’t pretend he isn’t curious. “Just because you wanted to, or…”

“No, I—I mean. I don’t hate it, but there was a reason.” The shade of Natsume’s cheeks is on just this side of salmon when Kaname glances back, and it’s so frankly adorable that Kaname has to turn his back again, not trusting himself to keep a straight face. “Do you remember the farm in Aomori I told you about?” Natsume continues. “The owners had called the Matsuokas for an exorcism because their livestock kept getting sick so we stayed for a few days.”

“I remember.” He also remembers all the grim visuals his own imagination had served up over the course of those three long days, until he’d gotten the text that all was resolved and that Natsume was safe and whole and on a train away from that place.

“The family had a connection to a lesser exorcist clan that sort of fizzled out a few generations ago. And Sayaka-san—ah, the wife—was really her aunt and uncle’s only heir because they didn’t have children. They were both exorcists, and she’d inherited a few things from them.”

“Did the angry ayakashi have something to do with that clan?” Kaname asks, setting two cups of lemonade on the table and sliding into the seat across from Natsume. And god if it doesn’t do something to him, to see Natsume right there, right across from him, pale fingers wrapping easily around the lumpy clay cup Kaname made in middle school, afternoon light through the window settling in his hair and glinting starlike off those new tiny hoops in his ear and every day, Kaname wants this every day. Just this. He swallows, hard, forces himself to pay attention because Natsume’s talking again.

“It actually had nothing to do with them. The farm had been owned by her husband’s family anyhow, but. The land the farm sat on was at the center of some dispute between two ayakashi, some territory thing they bicker about every hundred years. All Sensei and I really did was get them both to agree to meet each other, and they mostly sorted it out themselves from there.”

Kaname blinks. “The Matsuokas didn’t do anything?”

Natsume shrugs. “They didn’t really need to. Sensei worked out what was going on pretty quickly, and didn’t really wait up for their help. He thought the exorcists barging in would just make things worse.” He pauses to take a sip of lemonade. As soon as he does, his eyes light up. “Ah—your lavender! You got to harvest it?”

Kaname feels a grin touch his lips as he watches Natsume take a second, larger gulp of the lemonade, in his face all the bliss of an elementary schooler who’s gotten his hands on an ice cream pop at the park. He’s a bit surprised Natsume didn’t notice the smell straightaway when Kaname had poured it, but to be fair the entire kitchen smells a bit like lavender most days. “I did. I’ll tell you about it later. Finish your story first.”

He does, after yet another hearty gulp. “When it was all resolved and we went to tell the family, Sayaka-san wanted to give me a gift. I told her not to, because it was more Sensei than me, and Hiiragi helped too—Natori sent her with me because Sensei didn’t want him there either—they made sure neither of the ayakashi could get away until they settled the dispute. I asked a couple of questions, mostly because I wasn’t sure what was going on—it was something about a sacred pine grove—but it wasn’t like I resolved things for them.”

Kaname doesn’t need to hear the specifics to be soundly convinced that Natsume’s not giving himself near enough credit. He takes his own sip of lemonade, the tartness of it tempered by the softer herbal taste that lingers on his tongue. “What was the gift?”

Natsume smiles, a bit rueful. “Earrings.”

Kaname points. “Those?”

“No, these were just to get the piercings done, but I can show you later. They’re talismans, and pretty effective ones from what Sensei could tell. It’s a set of six, they’re little round polished stones in all different colors. I’ve got the types of stone written down somewhere and what each of them is useful for but I don’t really remember. Sayaka-san had inherited them from her aunt and uncle.”

“Did she know what they were for?”

“Vaguely. Enough to think she didn’t have as much use for them as I might. They’d just been sitting in a box in the house, and she was really glad the problem was fixed, so. She insisted. But Natori also insisted on paying her for them.” His mouth twists. “She didn’t love that, but I think he had a sense of how valuable they were, and didn’t want anyone trying to step in and claim I’d gotten them illegitimately. I like Yasuda-san and Tanaka-san—they were the clan members that went with us—and I really don’t think they’d do something like that, but I guess it’s better to be cautious.”

Kaname’s not sure how to feel about that. “That’d technically make them Natori’s then, right?”

Natsume huffs a short sigh. “I did try to make him take at least some of them, but he said they’d do me more good than him, that he’d feel better if I wore them at least some of the time. Also that his agent would kill him anyways if he showed up with holes in his ears. So he took me to get mine done, instead.” His hand’s inching upwards again, like he can’t decide if he wants to touch his ear or hide it from sight.

Kaname reaches across the table and intercepts his hand midair, lacing their fingers together in a move that’s objectively more awkward than suave, but it makes Natsume’s lips twitch nonetheless, and that feels like an achievement. “What’d the Fujiwaras say?” he asks.

“Well when I explained why I got it done, they were all for it, but.” Lips pursed, he looks equal parts embarrassed and affectionately exasperated. “I think it sort of amused them. Touko-san said it looked ‘very handsome’ and had me promise to clean them really well, and Shigeru-san cracked a few jokes about rock stars.”

“I mean—”

Natsume shoots him a withering look. “Don’t you start.”

Kaname agrees with Touko; can picture the barest hint of mischief touching the corners of her wide, delighted smile. “Will you get the other side done?” he asks. “If you’ve got six.”

He shrugs. “Natori said two at a time would be fine. And both sides seemed a bit…”

There’s a dozen different adjectives Kaname could fill in at the end of that sentence, none of them remotely close to what Natsume looks to be thinking. If he had showed up with both sides done, Kaname’s quite sure that his own reaction would’ve embarrassed them both.

“I did think—” Natsume starts, then seems to need a moment to rally himself before continuing. “If you wanted,” he begins again, looking rather more at some spot on Kaname’s cheek than at his eyes. “You could take some of them.”

“Oh.” It’s safe to say that’s not an offer Kaname had anticipated. “I’m not…I’m not an exorcist, though.”

“Neither am I,” Natsume counters, his fingernail tracing idly across the back of Kaname’s hand where their hands are still twined together across the tabletop. “Not really. And you are good at cleansings and banishings, anyways.”

“That’s…it’s kind of just a matter of showing up and remembering the words, but thank you.” He’d been practicing a bit of that at Dad’s suggestion and with his help, and had genuinely found the memorizing to be the most arduous part of it all; he’d taken to muttering the trickier, more unwieldy bits of sutra under his breath to practice while watering the plants or doing housework, most days.

“You’re good at it,” Natsume repeats. “I don’t want to make you feel like you’ve got to go and put holes in your ears if you don’t want to but I thought…” he trails off, looking uncertain.

“Thought what?”

 He lets out a tight breath, then says, the words jumbling together a bit as though he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he doesn’t get it out quickly, “I thought you could use them if you still wanted to come apprentice with the Matsuokas too.”

“I do.” He surprises himself with the immediate answer, but it crystallizes inside him even as he says it. “I will.”

Natsume’s eyes go round. “Really?”

“Really.”

Natsume smushes his lips together for a moment before speaking again, the taut look on his face suggesting there’s something before him now that he’s not sure he ought to hope for. “But…your dad—“

“I think Dad’s close to packing my bags himself if I don’t get out of here soon and go do something that doesn’t involve spreadsheets and invoices.” He feels himself smile. “I’d need to wait for the new school term, and don’t think I can do much to help out an exorcist clan, but…”

“You’ll do fine,” Natsume interjects, in a murmur. “I told you that.” And he had; as nerve-wracking as it is for Kaname to consider that he’d be literally blind to so many of the youkai the clan would be taking on, Natsume had said that he’d already met a handful of respected exorcists who worked for or alongside the Matsuokas whose sight for the supernatural was even less than Kaname’s. Some, even, with no sight whatsoever—who, like Dad, could compensate for that fact with knowledge and technique and become formidable in their own right. It’d been a comfort to know, but Kaname can’t say he’s not nervous about getting someone hurt because he couldn’t keep up, or excusing himself to go be sick behind a tree in the middle of some crucial binding or ritual because his body wouldn’t tolerate it.

Still.

“I want to go with you.” It’s out of his mouth before he can even find it in himself to be embarrassed about it. He’s staring at their hands, his own wrapped tightly around Natsume’s cool fingertips like he’ll find himself alone in the kitchen if he lets go.

Some of the creases in Natsume’s forehead soften. “That apartment’s too big for just me,” he says, with a tiny smile, looking down into his cup. “As long as you don’t get yourself eaten.” He pulls a slight grimace. “Or recruited.”

The first option’s more likely than the second, Kaname thinks but doesn’t say. “I won’t if you don’t,” he says instead.

“No chance of that.” Natsume taps the side of his cup with two fingers. “I think Sensei would rather eat me himself than consent to working for an exorcist. It puts him in a bad enough mood to be mistaken for a shiki as it is.”

Natsume had been very clear from the beginning, that his only reason for working with the Matsuokas was to learn to protect people, though Kaname also knows that means doing so without having to harm any ayakashi that ought to be left well enough alone. Kaname’s not sure why any of that has to be mutually exclusive from pursuing exorcism as a career path, but he’s certainly spent less time with exorcists and clan politics than Natsume has. And he can’t say he wouldn’t appreciate Natsume choosing a less dangerous day job.

“You’re sure?” Natsume’s asking him, now. His expression hasn’t changed much, but behind his eyes Kaname can see the years stacked upon years of learning to brace himself for rejection.

“I am."

***

They’re on the veranda now, legs hanging over the edge, the tips of Natsume’s socked toes not quite brushing the mossy carpet below.  Heaped on the floorboards between them is what Kaname now realizes is probably an excessive amount of lavender: dried blooms in a glass jar, loose stems fastened with twine into bunches, yet more blooms rather poorly sewn into cotton sachets with simple blessings Dad had helped him write tucked inside. And finally, currently perched atop Natsume’s head where Kaname had placed it on a whim a moment ago, a carefully twisted wreath of pale purple and silvery green.

“You don’t have to use it all,” he tells Natsume, tapping lid of the jar. “Or take it all. It’s a lot.”

Natsume gives him a small sidelong grin, and with those slitted eyes catching and holding the afternoon sun as if it belongs to them, Kaname has to remind himself to breathe.

“Did you leave any for yourself?” Natsume asks wryly.

A soft snort. “Plenty. I had no idea they’d bloom so much this year, after how pitiful it was last year. I harvested most of them twice.”

Kaname’s got a literal dozen plants, the seeds a gift from one of Dad’s associates who’d gotten them on one of his frequent trips to a network of temples in Hokkaido. Kaname had sprouted them in egg cartons and had done his best with them, knowing that plants more suited to a milder climate far to the north would be finicky to say the least. It had taken two years to coax a decent harvest from them, and that had taken digging up a long strip of garden space to fill in with the sand and gravel they needed, and then painstakingly potting and repotting them all to move them between the flowerbed and a sunny storeroom he’d cleared out at the rear of the house when the weather grew too wet. Dad had joked that they’d bloomed so well this year because Kaname had spent so much time mumbling sutra while tending to them, but whatever the case it had been deeply satisfying to cut and hang the bunches of long fragrant stems up to dry when they’d been so scraggly the year before.

Natsume takes a sachet into his hands, holding it gently between his fingers up to his eye level. It turns a faint purple where the afternoon sun lights it from behind.

“I’m not sure it’ll do any actual good in protecting you,” Kaname says, watching him lightly touch his fingertip to the outline of the card where the blessing is inked. “Taki would be better for that. But it’ll make your pillowcases smell nice, at least.”

Natsume brings it up to his face, letting his eyes shutter as it covers his nose and mouth. “It smells like your room,” he says softly. He reaches up to where the wreath is settled in his hair. “This too.”

“Well I’ve got the one on the wall near my bed,” he says, certain he’s failing to sound casual when there’s that rare, unveiled softness in Natsume’s eyes. His tongue feels heavy and strange, and there’s a sensation like so many soda bubbles fizzing and popping in his chest, but he somehow manages to say, “The smell’s relaxing, so I like it there, but. You can put it anywhere you want. Sorry for not tying it so neatly.”

Natsume takes his hand off the wreath, sets it over Kaname’s, fingertips chilled from the refilled cup he’d carried with him. “It’s a good thing the apartment has a big veranda.”

Kaname chuckles, shakes his head. “Not big enough for a dozen large pots. Where would we hang the laundry?”

“We’ll fit them.” Natsume shrugs, tips his head back, looking utterly serene. “Won’t you want them for your tea?”

And that’s about when Kaname can’t take it anymore. He turns, cups Natsume’s face in both hands, and kisses his parted lips.

For the space of a breath, Natsume’s motionless against his mouth, but Kaname barely has the time to start to wonder if he’s done the wrong thing before he can feel the cool grip above his elbows, practically taste the featherlight sigh between lips that have opened wider to move with his own.

When they part, a long lightheaded moment later, Natsume’s reaching up towards his own hair, brows scrunching together, cheeks marvelously flushed under Kaname’s fingers. “Isn’t this poking you in the face?” He taps his makeshift crown.

“Yes,” Kaname says simply, leaning in to peck the very tip of Natsume’s nose.

Natsume bites down on a smile, not quite managing to look disapproving, and not moving to take it off, either. “All the flowers will fall off.”

I’ll make a better one, is what he means to say. What comes out of his mouth instead, entirely unbidden, is, “I missed you.” His voice snags oddly on the last word, and he swallows hard. A month and some change does not warrant falling to pieces on him, Kaname tells himself sternly, a handful of colorful nightmares notwithstanding. He’d made enough of a scene when he’d nearly tackled him at the door, hadn’t he. Still, he doesn’t trust himself to speak until Natsume does, his throat feeling suspiciously thick.

Natsume, for his part, looks a bit stricken, at first. And Kaname has the sudden thought that he’s grappling with the idea of being missed to such a degree in the first place. But the expression shifts soon enough into one of concern, and warmth.

“You won’t have to, for long,” he murmurs, after pulling Kaname back in for a gentle brush of lips across his cheekbone. “I won’t, either.” A lingering pause. Then, “…ah, sorry. That’s got to be stabbing you in the eye, right?”

Kaname blinks when Natsume abruptly pulls away, feeling muzzy and untethered and wanting very much for Natsume to be kissing him again until he realizes that Natsume’s gingerly lifting the wreath off his head. It catches on his hair despite his best efforts, enough to tug a few blossoms loose, and enough to knock aside those strands that have grown out just long enough to fall past his earlobes.   

And Kaname couldn’t have pretended not to stare if his life depended on it.

His hand’s up, fingers outstretched before he even realizes. “Can I, um. It’s not going to hurt you or anything if I—”

“No. Go ahead.”

But Kaname’s only just touched the tip of his finger to the outermost hoop—the barest amount of pressure enough to make it lie flat against the bottom of Natsume’s earlobe—when Natsume sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, ducking his head out of Kaname’s reach.

Kaname snaps his hand back, distressed. “I’m sor—”

“No, it tickles.” Natsume straightens back up, rubbing at his ear with more vigor than he probably ought to whether it’s fully healed or not, leaving the metal gleaming against reddened skin.

Kaname raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

The glare Natsume shoots him is truly remarkable, though the effect is somewhat dampened by his mussed hair, the crumbly bits of lavender that have fallen onto his shoulders. Kaname throws his hands up, a picture of innocence, tucking this particular scrap of information away for a later date.

“For what it’s worth, though…” he starts, once he is well and truly sure that Natsume won’t try to scoot himself several meters down the porch and out of his reach; his arms are wrapped loosely around himself and he’s smiling again, though warily. But at that moment Kaname finds himself so thoroughly arrested with love that he couldn’t have launched the anticipated attack if he tried. “For what it’s worth. The earrings look good.”