#everything is traced back to him he is my BLUEPRINT.

[downsteepy]

im a little late but happy 20th anniversary to re4 i love you so bad

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Twelve.

previous (chapter eleven). series masterlist. the playlist.

chapter synopsis - And throughout it all, no matter what - there was Lacie.

pairing - dad’s bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au

warnings - cursing. alcohol consumption.

word count - 5k

authors note - to all my girls who have their girlfriends backs no matter what, who wipe their tears and fix their hair and tell them everything is going to be okay, who will always pick up the phone regardless of the time or place… this one’s for you.

masterlist. inbox.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Honey, please. You’re making me nervous.”

You foot stills where it was banging against the cabinet, the words halting your movements. You’re perched up on your kitchen counter, watching as Bucky makes you breakfast, both of you illuminated by the morning light. He’s shirtless and wearing short shorts that show off the tanned, corded muscle of his thighs, skin all sun kissed and begging to be bitten.

There’s an energy coursing through your veins, prickly and warm. You woke up feeling like this - uneasy and on edge - like a grey cloud was looming in the distance, getting closer with every passing minute.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he moves to stand between your legs, warm hands splaying across your thighs.

“I’m fine,” you answer a little too quickly, avoiding his gaze. “S’nothing.”

Bucky takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmurs. “I can feel your anxiety in my chest. If it’s bad for me, it’s gotta be awful for you.”

“I don’t know what it is,” you whisper, playing with his fingers. “Just woke up with this… feeling.”

He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, lips warm on your skin.

“Get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed, baby. We’re going out.”

“But what about breakfast?”

“We’re bringing breakfast with us.”

You stare at him for a moment, before nodding and hopping down from the counter. Padding across the kitchen tiles, you make your way into your room, your nerves too fried to worry about what your soulmate has planned.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The world passes by in a blur as Bucky speeds down the road, the steady roar of his truck soothing the buzzing in your bones. You arrive at your destination before you know it, coming to a stop next to a familiar path.

“Our house,” you breathe, looking out over the coastal plot.

“Our soon to be house,” he smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him. “Thought we could have a breakfast picnic.”

“That sounds… perfect.”

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat to settle your nerves.

“Come on, honey baby. Let’s put down a blanket and eat while the everything is still warm.”

You get settled on the old, worn throw that Bucky keeps in his trunk, looking out at the ocean view that you’ll be blessed with for the rest of your lives.

“I may be the baker here, but you’re a damn good cook, sir.”

You practically moan as you bite into the sandwich, rolling your eyes when your soulmate can’t help but laugh at you.

“You blow up my ego too much.”

“Well, someone has to, I suppose.”

He shoves you in the shoulder lightly, chortling at your dramatics when you throw yourself backwards.

“If you’re done with the theatrics, there’s something I want to show you.”

“Fine, fine,” you relent, sitting up and finishing your breakfast. “Show me, Buck.”

He reaches into the picnic basket, pulling out rolls of paper and unfurling them in front of you.

“Official house blueprints. Got them all printed properly so we can mark them up and make adjustments.”

You run your fingers over the designs, trying to picture it all in your head. You trace journeys through the house - living room to kitchen, bedroom to bathroom, front door to backyard. Bucky watches you, gentle smile etched almost permanently onto his face. He wishes, for a moment, that he could speed up time - that the house was built and finished, so he can swim in the pool with you on Sunday mornings, stay up late watching movies on Friday nights, listen for your car pulling into the driveway after a long day at work in the week.

“I’ve been thinking about the little things, you know. That I’d want in the house.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smile, all hopeful and content, and every worry Bucky has ever had vanishes into thin air.

“Tell me.”

“I think we’re - I’m - gonna need a pantry. If I try new recipes at home, I have to buy copious amounts of flour and sugar and all that jazz. I think a pantry would make everything a little bit easier.”

Bucky pores over the blueprints, pointing at a certain area of the spacious kitchen.

“We could add one here? Build the walls into this cove section, close it off.”

“Perfect,” you grin, leaning over to kiss him sweetly.

He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, allowing the warmth of your skin to seep into his.

“Also,” you murmur against his lips, “I was thinking that we should make sure the shower is plenty big enough for two people. Hmm?”

Your soulmate groans, closing the gap between you to press a kiss to your smirk.

“I agree,” he hums. “I couldn’t agree more, actually. Might put a bench in there for good measure too. You know, just in case.”

You can’t help but chuckle, pecking him again before sitting back to get a better look at the designs.

“As long as I’ve got lots of kitchen storage and countertop space, I’m happy. Everything else is a bonus. I could live anywhere with you and be happy, actually.”

Bucky’s looking at you like you are the sun, bright and blinding and brilliant. A couple of years ago, if anyone looked at you like this, you’d have shied away, shrunk into the shell of yourself to avoid the gaze. Now, you revel in it, soaking up the warmth that being the centre of someone’s universe brings.

“I love you so much, my honey. And I can’t wait to build you a house.”

“I love you so much. And I can’t believe you’re going to build me a house. I mean, how many girls can say that?”

You shift over to slot yourself into Bucky’s side, the heavy weight of his arm around you anchoring you to the present. Resting your head on his shoulder, you try to exhale all of your anxiety, focusing on the coastal view instead.

Your eyes are drifting closed when you’re startled back to reality by your phone ringing. You grab it and show it to Bucky, who smiles at the sweet picture of Lacie that lights up the screen.

“Hey, Lace.”

“Hi babe! Has your Mom texted you?”

“Not this morning, no. Why?”

“I just bumped into her in the grocery store, and she invited me over for dinner tonight. She said we’re well overdue a catch up, just like old times. I figured she’d call or text you when she got home.”

“Ugh, that sounds amazing. I’ll call her in a minute and double check the details, but… I can’t wait.”

“Yes, call her! I’ll bring both red and white wine, just to be sure. I’m so excited you wouldn’t even believe. It’s been too long since I’ve spent the evening with my second family.”

“And I’ll make you that cake you like for dessert, the raspberry and peach one.”

“Eeee! You’re the best. See you tonight, babe!”

“See you tonight, Lace. Love you.”

“Love you too. Later!”

You’re grinning when you press the red button to hang up, content with the sudden addition of evening plans. Bucky presses a kiss into your hair, happy to see you the most relaxed you’ve been all morning.

“You wanna join us, Buck?”

He tightens his arms around you, pulling you in so you’re sat in between his legs, back to his chest.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll do you good to have a night with your family, honey. Besides, I have like two weeks worth of laundry to catch up on.”

“Stop it. I’ll be having fun with my best friend and you’ll be… doing laundry?”

“Might clean my oven, too.”

“Stop,” you laugh, leaning back into him. “You’re making me feel guilty.”

“Well,” he hums against your ear, “seeing as they’re stealing you away from me tonight… how about we go sailing today? Promise I’ll get you back in time to get ready for dinner.”

“I’d love that,” you breathe, twisting around to plant a kiss on his stubbled jaw. “We haven’t been out on the boat in forever.”

“Then let’s go, honey girl. The ocean awaits us.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Being on the sailboat with Bucky takes you right back to the day after your Tethering.

Salty breeze whipping through your clothes, sun beating down on your skin, wooden boards creaking beneath your feet. Your soulmate stands on the deck in his pale blue linen button up, adjusting the sails with experienced precision. He’s the image of grace, like a statue made of marble carved by an ancient sculptor.

“You thinking about that day?”

You didn’t even notice he’d moved, too fixated on his backlit silhouette and how beautifully broad his shoulders look.

“Yeah,” you grin, propping yourself up on your elbows where you lay. “That was a good day.”

“Yeah, it was.”

He sits down on the deck in front of you, rubbing circles into your calf with his thumb.

“A lot has changed since then, huh?”

“Yes and no. We’re still just as clueless about the soulmate stuff as we were back then,” you chuckle. “But we’re happier now. Less afraid.”

“And we still haven’t talked to your parents about it.”

“But we will. Very soon. Oops.”

Bucky shakes his head, smiling as he does it. You move to sit in the space between his spread legs, allowing his arms to wrap around you and cage you into him. The two of you stay like that for a while, embracing the calmness that time has brought you.

You close your eyes, slowly letting yourself relax as the gentle waves and the anchoring of your soulmate ease your nerves. Bucky hums lowly into your hair, a tune that you can’t quite place your finger on.

“Have I heard that before?” you ask in a murmur.

“Maybe. It’s an old song, my mom used to sing it to us as a lullaby.”

“That’s sweet.”

The mental image of a tiny little Bucky all wrapped up in his blankets while his mother sings to him is almost too much for your heart to handle. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melody.

“You never talk about her.”

“Hmm?”

“Your mom. You never mention her.”

“I don’t really have much to say.”

You contemplate it for a moment, before deciding to just bite the bullet.

“You know my mom mentioned something about your sister the other day, and I had to sit there and nod and pretend that I already knew it. When in reality, I didn’t even know you had a sister, Buck.”

You can feel him tense up behind you, muscles going stiff where they’re wrapped around your arms.

“It just never came up.”

“Never? In almost two years of us being soulmates, it never came up?”

Bucky’s silent - perhaps the most silent you’ve ever heard him. The sound of the ocean waves is suddenly amplified, filling the empty space.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, honey.”

“Anything. Literally anything. I just… why do I feel like I don’t know anything, all of a sudden? Your family, your upbringing, nothing.”

“Because it’s not relevant. I’m not just gonna bring it up out of the blue for no reason.”

“I’d say our pasts are pretty relevant, Buck. They make us who we are. I’m not gonna sit here and push you to talk about something you don’t want to talk about, because that’s not fair. But I also don’t think it’s fair that you know everything about me, and I feel like I don’t really know that much about you.”

You’ve turned in his arms, sliding back so you can face him from a distance. You’re expecting him to look angry, or sad, but instead he looks… guilty. Caught out, even.

“You know more about me than anyone else in this world does,” he says eventually.

“Maybe. But I couldn’t tell you your mom or sister’s names, where you grew up, any of it. It makes me feel like there’s a piece of you, however big, that you just don’t want me to know.”

“I… don’t know what to say.”

“Okay. Well, neither do I, anymore.”

The two of you sit for a minute, waiting to see if the other one has anything else to add.

“We’ve done this in the wrong order, I think.” You’re whispering, but he hears you loud and clear. “We think we know each other just because we’re soulmates, but we don’t.”

He goes to interject, so you continue quickly.

“We’ve avoided tough conversations because we thought it’d make things easier, but now they’ve come back to bite us. Buck… do you know how much we haven’t talked about?”

He bites at his bottom lip, gaze never leaving yours.

“We’ve not spoken about marriage, or kids, or any of that stuff. I mean, do you even want kids? Do you know if I do? Would you want to get married? God, did we think that by not having these conversations that they’d just… go away?”

“I- I didn’t want to scare you off with the hard topics too soon. You were overwhelmed at even having a soulmate, never mind marrying or having kids with one.”

“Yeah, but Buck… we’re past that now. We should be able to talk about everything, and we’ve just pulled the wool over our eyes in blissful ignorance.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his windswept hair.

“I don’t have the time that you do.”

“Hmm?”

“Kids. On my next birthday, I’ll be forty. I don’t have the time to wait around, wondering and debating if I want kids or not. You can wait another ten years if you want to - but I can’t.”

The reality of that statement hits you like a freight train, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“I can’t be an old dad. A little older, sure. But no one needs their dad to be fifty when they’re a baby. Seventy when they’re twenty one. Dying when they’re not even forty yet.”

A tear slips down your cheek, landing on your thigh with a tiny splash.

“I’m not ready for kids,” you confess quietly. “And I don’t know when I will be.”

Bucky nods in understanding, careful eyes taking you in.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

In this moment, nothing anyone says will make anything any better. You can feel each others sadness in your chests, blue and heavy and constricting.

Bucky sails you back to shore without another word, both of you quietly contemplating. He drops you off outside your apartment building, the roar of his trucks engine the only sound that can be heard. You gently rub your thumb over his cheekbone where he’s caught the sun, before picking up your bag and unlocking your front door without looking over your shoulder.

You can’t bear to meet his eyes. You don’t dare to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend the rest of the afternoon baking.

It takes your mind off of everything, at least temporarily. You throw yourself into the recipe you’ve made at least ten times, all for Lacie. This is her favourite thing you create, and you’re absolutely determined to make it perfect for her.

You place the final raspberry on the top of the cake, and burst into tears.

It feels like everything you’ve built - that you believed was solid - actually has cracks running throughout. You want to convince yourself that you’re not mad at Bucky, but you think that maybe you are. He’s made the conscious choice to never share parts of his life before you with you. Even knowing that he didn’t do it with any malicious intent doesn’t seem to make it any easier.

Taking a deep breath, you pop the cake in the refrigerator to keep it from melting, before making your way to your bathroom. The water you splash on your face makes you feel a little more alive, the coolness of it shocking you back to reality.

You inhale, watching your reflection in the mirror as you exhale shakily. A noise from your phone rings out from where it sits atop the vanity, a text from Lacie lighting up the screen.

-

From: Lace <3

Can’t wait to see you tonight babe!! Are you wearing a skirt, or are jeans the vibe?? Shorts maybe?? Send me a pic of your outfit <33

-

You smile as you type your reply, picturing her face in your head as she reads it.

-

To: Lace <3

No outfit picked yet - will let you know what I decide. Definitely not wearing jeans, skirt is a maybe. Made your cake though <3

-

You press send and hop in the shower, hoping that the hot spray of the water will wash away some of the tension in your muscles. Trying to turn your brain off, you decide to focus all your attention on getting dressed and ready, putting on some music and pouring yourself a glass of something fruity.

Tonight will be a good night. You’ll make sure of it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You wait for Lacie out on the street, just like old times. If she was ever coming over when you were kids, you’d stand at the end of your driveway, too excited to stay on the front porch.

She tries to run towards you, but her wedge heels don’t let her get too far. She hobbles over instead, half hopping, half jumping to get to you faster.

“I am so excited!” she practically yells into your ear as she hugs you tightly. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Lace,” you laugh, “I saw you last week.”

“Too long!” she declares, grabbing your hand and leading you towards your front door. “Let’s have the best night ever, yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s.”

Your parents are overjoyed to see Lacie again.

“You got taller, kid?” your Dad asks as he ruffles her hair, much to her dismay.

Your Mom’s laughing, shaking her head as she pulls her in for a quick cuddle.

“You look beautiful, sweetie. Have you changed your hair? Is it lighter?”

“You like it? Did it a couple of months ago. Wanted a change.”

“I love it. I need to make an appointment with you soon, I’m well overdue a cut.”

“I’ll make space for you anytime, Lori. Just text me and I’ll fit you in.”

“Wine, anyone?” your Dad yells from the kitchen doorway. “Lacie, I know you’ll have some!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she teases, giggling. “But yes, I will. The biggest glass you have, actually.”

You grin as you sit down to your place at the dinner table, Lacie taking the chair next to you. She’s already launched into a story about a nightmare client at work, making all of you double over with laughter.

The stress leaves your body the more you smile, all four of you wrapped up in this perfect bubble of nostalgia and friendship and memories and love.

Just like old times.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We’re going for a walk. You girls want to come?”

Your parents are stood hand in hand in the doorway, looking at you expectantly.

“No thanks, you two go ahead. Think we’re gonna have a drink on the porch.”

“Okay, sweethearts. See you later.”

They’re giggling at something when they leave, the melodic sound of it hanging in the air behind them.

“You wanna raid the bar cart?” Lacie asks, looking at you with mischief in her eyes.

“Yes, I do,” you laugh, standing up and pulling her with you.

The two of you find a bottle of coconut rum, half empty but still in date. Your best friend holds it in her hand as if you’ve discovered buried treasure, face lit up with excitement.

“Let’s sit out the back, maybe see some stars.”

You get cosy on the porch, both of you curled up under a blanket to keep the evening chill at bay. You pass the rum back and forth, content to just be in each others company again.

“Remember when we were like sixteen, and your Dad caught us trying a cigarette out here?”

You smile at the memory, casting your mind back to that day you sat in this very spot.

“And instead of yelling at us, he told us that we were lighting it wrong?”

“And then he called us losers while he walked off laughing.”

You both shake with laughter, recalling the look on his face.

“I thought we were so grounded, but then I just felt kinda lame.”

“That’s my Dad for you. He’s always had his own method of parenting. And honestly? It’s worked pretty good so far.”

Lacie looks at you with a measured gaze before taking your hand in hers.

“Have you guys talked to your parents yet? About everything?”

“No,” you reply a little too quickly, bottom lip wobbling. “Not yet.”

“Hey, hey.”

She scoots over so she’s practically sitting in your lap, legs tangled with yours under the throw as she slings an arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You didn’t realise you were until she said it, now feeling the warm tears drip down your face. There’s a lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of, and you wonder momentarily if it’s your sadness or Bucky’s.

“Me and Bucky had a bad day.”

“What happened?”

Her fingers are rubbing gentle patterns into the skin of your shoulder, her soft eyes watching you encouragingly. She’s always been the most patient person with you - as if she knows you’ll tell her everything eventually, even if it takes you a while.

“I just had this - this, this sudden realisation? That I don’t feel like I actually know that much about him, or his past, or his family. And when I said this to him, everything got weird and tense and he was all closed off.”

“Did you ask why? Why he hasn’t shared this stuff with you?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “He told me he just didn’t have much to say.”

“Well that’s not really an answer.”

“Exactly. Am I being crazy? You’d tell me if I was being crazy, right?”

“Of course I’d tell you, you know I would. And you’re not being crazy. He’s so involved with your family, so why shouldn’t you at least know a little about his?”

“This is what I mean,” you breathe, relieved that someone finally understands. “He’s purposefully never mentioned his parents, or his upbringing. You know I only found out he has a sister last week?”

“Woah. That’s… that’s kind of a big deal.”

“I just don’t know if he could see it from my point of view when we talked about it today. And I didn’t want to push and push just in case I pushed too far, because that isn’t fair and he wouldn’t do that to me. But at the same time… sometimes he closes himself off, whether he realises it or not.”

She squeezes you tightly, reassuring you with a simple gesture.

“I love you. You know that babe, don’t you? Even if we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I love you more than anything.”

She’s only making you cry harder, a mixture of happy and sad tears.

“I know, Lace. I love you so much.”

She rests her head atop yours, hands and hearts intertwined on the back porch.

“I just…” you take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I’m sad. And I’m angry. I’m angry that this is the hand I’ve been dealt. Not Bucky - never Bucky - God he’s the best soulmate I ever could have asked for. But I’m mad that we’ve had it so hard. Soulmates are supposed to be easy and simple and written in the stars and all I’ve felt is stress because our Tethering is so complicated.

I feel so uncertain of the future and who I am and who I want to be. And I never used to feel that way, but Bucky has changed everything. I love him so much, and that has altered my entire life and my entire future and the way I look at and think about the world.

I guess I’m just sad, at the end of it all. Because this should have been a magical honeymoon period for us, and instead it was filled with so much worry and hiding and confusion. And how is that fair? Why do some people have it easy, and others don’t?”

Lacie takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look into her big green eyes.

“Listen to me, babe. Nothing worth having ever comes easy.”

You’re expecting her to continue, but she doesn’t. She just watches you process, thumbs wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Nothing. Worth. Having. Ever. Comes. Easy.”

You’re nodding, letting her words sink in.

“You’ve been dealt a tough hand. You’re right. But when has that ever gotten you down before? You’ve always picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and kept going. It’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

A ghost of a smile threatens to take over your face, and she laughs.

“It’s true. And it’s not going to solve itself overnight. It’s going to require a lot of talking, a lot of listening, and a lot of patience. But the two of you will do it. Because you’re soulmates, and you’re meant to be. Literally.

Have some time apart, put a little space between you. And then come back together and work through this. It’ll do you both some good to take a step back and look at everything from a different perspective in a few days. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, tucking her hair behind her ear so it stops blowing into her face. “Yeah.”

“And you know where I am if you need to talk or rant or scream or cry or all of the above.”

“Always,” you chuckle, resting your head on her shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

The two of you abandon the rum, instead choosing to make some tea to drink out on the porch. You watch the stars for hours, just like you did when you were kids.

“You wanna have a sleepover tonight?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If Cameron doesn’t mind.”

“He won’t, don’t worry. I’d love to.”

Your Mom and Dad watch through the kitchen window, as the two girls who were once four years old running around the garden are now grown women, sitting out on the bench and holding hands like they used to.

They’d pause time, if they could. Just for a moment.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You feel like giggly teenagers when you both snuggle up under your blankets in bed, the light of the moon casting shadows across your features.

You’re all tucked up, facing each other and whispering in the dark. These would be your favourite nights when you were kids, especially during the summer. The promise of no school tomorrow, staying up and sharing secrets until the early hours of the morning, trying to keep your voices down so your parents didn’t hear. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed it until now.

Lacie moves a piece of hair away from your face, her manicured nails against your skin making you shiver. She reaches for your hand under the duvet, linking your fingers firmly.

“You know, I was never worried about meeting my soulmate,” she murmurs into the dusk. “I was always excited, but never worried.”

“You weren’t? How come?”

“Because I’ve had a soulmate since I was four years old. And she is the most important thing I have. Even if I never met my romantic soulmate, I would have been okay - because I know what true love is.”

A tear slips down your cheek and onto your pillow as you shuffle sideways, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I’m so lucky,” you sniffle. “And emotional. I think the rum has gone to our heads.”

Your best friend laughs a little too loud, both of you trying to muffle the sound with your hands.

“I’ve always been a teary drunk,” she chuckles, squeezing your fingers. “Before we both fall asleep because the wine has hit us, let me just say that I’m proud of you. Going to California, having the courage to come back, opening yourself up to Bucky… all of it. You guys will be just fine.”

“Yeah, we will. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, though.”

“We make a good team,” she grins.

“We always have. We’ve had twenty years of being a good team.”

“Here’s to twenty more,” she whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“And twenty more after that,” you whisper back, snuggling into her.

You fall asleep like that, still tangled and clutching each other’s hands like you’re children again. You can almost feel the love in the room, all warm and soft and glowing.

No matter what happens… you’ve known what true love was since you were four years old. And that is something that no Tethering can replicate.

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[reallyromealone]

Title: quirkless

Fandom: Tokyo revengers, bnha

Characters: mikey, power loader, reader

Fic type: reader insert, omegaverse

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, omegaverse, quirkless reader, Omega male reader, soulmate reader

Notes: this is a Patreon exclusive, all other chapters are on my patreon , I just thought this was a good way to advertise

Summary: on a rainy day, (name) decided to hide in an old shrine to get away from the rain but didn't expect to meet Mikey, a quirkless alpha

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The rain was heavy, (name) sighing while seeking cover inside the old shrine. The rain was clearly not going to let up and (name) couldn't let the documents in his bag get ruined... So he guessed he was hanging out here till it let up or his cousin could pick him up.

It was quiet in the shrine, deterioration over the years and he was frankly surprised it held up at all. ' might as well work on stuff while I'm waiting' he thought and pulled out his work, wanting to be helpful to his cousin and his projects "it would have to be... 'gari... You got this measurement off..." He mumbled and fixed his cousin's error without a care in the world, the iPhone his cousin bought him working as his calculator for this all.

He was thankful for his cousin taking him after everything, he was only in his 20s and took (name) in regardless.

It really meant a lot.

Especially with well... What (name) was.

A hero taking in a quirkless Omega?

Unheard of.

"You shouldn't be here" a voice called out and (name) snapped his head up to see a blond standing before him cold back eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

-

Mikey didn't know why he was compelled to show up to the old shrine, haven't been there since he was 16 and now at the age of 19 he still remembered every detail, parking his bike off and out of the rain and stepped up. Half way he turned around, a familiar vantage point and swore he heard the old Toman members call out before continuing up, those feelings pushed down and continued his climb to the shrine.

It was untouched by time, the graffiti Baji did still on the door and signatures they did on the wooden frame...

He traced Drakens carefully....

"'gari, I know you're smart but seriously what does this mean?! I don't speak your weird jot notes!"

Mikey was confused before walking in, footsteps silent and he couldn't help but stare at the Omega based off the collar, working away on some blueprints without a note of the world around him.

"You shouldn't be here" the words slipped out calmly and the Omega snapped his head up, clearly frustrated "I'm sorry?" The words coming out like a question, eyes locking.

Then he felt it.

And he could tell the Omega felt the same.

"You're not gonna want me" (name) said simply, trying to move this along... He always thought of this day, lifting a paper and trying to figure out the codes his cousin used "why would you assume I wouldn't?" Mikey asked pointedly and (name) snorted "quirkless male Omega... Not exactly the most wanted" (name) looked back at him.

"You're quirkless?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"So am I"

That made (name) halt "you are?"

"So why wouldn't I want you?"

(Name) Couldn't believe his ears, he didn't plan this one...

Mikey wasn't expecting to find himself chatting for hours with this mystery Omega who sat beside him and chatted with him like he was his oldest friend.

"So Mikey, are you even interested in pursuing this?" (Name) Asked genuinely, knees pulled up and head resting on his knee caps with a sweet smile that made Mikey's alpha swoon a bit.

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure, I never expected you to stick around... I always imagined my fated mate to be disappointed with the whole quirkless thing..."

"Same" Mikey never bothered since he was a child, focusing on toman and now Kanto... "Maybe take it slow?" (Name) Offered and Mikey huffed a laugh, something he hadn't done in years "take it slow? Sure" his life was fast and busy but for this stranger... He found himself willing to go slow for him.

When the rain inevitably lifted, (name) was happy "well, I better get going before my cousin thinks I'm dead or something" (name) offered his hand to Mikey to help him up, the Alpha taking his hand and the two directly before each other "you have an email?" (Name) Asked softly, the smell of burning wood and spices radiating off the alpha, making (name) feel hazy.

Mikey could smell the sweet scent of (scent) and already felt obsessed with every aspect of the Omega, not wanting him to leave already...

"Wanna meet here tomorrow? Same time?" (Name) Asked him looking at him with an expression that made Mikey want to kiss him,was this the cupids arrow he always heard about with soulmates?

"Yes."

[leclerc-hs]

the blueprint - cl16

pairing: architect!charles leclerc x coworker!reader (fem) summary: in which you and your co-worker can't help but constantly butt-heads on projects warnings: 18+! SMUT! (obvi), kinda mean!Charles, squirting, language, some French (badly translated prob) word count: 4.1k author's note: hi I absolutely LOVED writing this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. i didn’t proofread so if there’s any typos please let me know!!! xoxo!! please let me hear your thoughts!!!! don’t be shy

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

YOU COULD’VE SWORN you’ve never been so irritated in your life. 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, ferme ta guele for once!” Shut the fuck up. You stood in the door of Charles’s office, a crescendo of emotion echoed in your voice, almost reaching a fervent shout. Your face, now tinged with a reddish hue, reflected just how frustrated you were. 

For a little over a year, both you and Charles had been integral parts of the same company. You, an interior designer, who occasionally delved into architecture every blue moon for fun. You never got the degree for architecture, but you loved to sketch building ideas from time to time just for fun. And then there’s him, an architect, with a stick too far up his ass sometimes.

Anger painted Charles’s demeanor, evident from the subtle reddening in his ears and the clench of his jaw. With matching frustration, he strolled behind his desk, easing into his chair. His green eyes narrowed at you, a silent yet potent communication.

“Moi?” Me? His tone was incredulous at he pointed his own fingertips at him, tapping them directly into his sweater covered chest. “Porquoi tu ne le fais pas?” Why don’t you? His voice dropped lower at the end of his sentence, while he directed his fingers to now point at you. 

You took a step further into his office, not bothering to shut the door behind you. “Tu es incroyable!” You’re unbelievable! The sarcasm dripped off your tongue as you ran a hand through your hair, your chest slightly heaving up and down. 

To which, Charles only smirked at, ignoring your sarcasm, and responded with a cocky “J’ai beaucoup entende cela.” I’ve heard that a lot. 

The memory of the initial cause of the argument had become hazy but it was likely that it stemmed from the inherent clash that seemed inevitable whenever the two of you worked together on a project. The two of you were constantly perplexed by the company’s decision to consistently pair you two together, especially because it was not a secret that you didn’t get along. However, the undeniable reason might be rooted in the remarkable success followed. Almost every building, house, or structure designed by the both of you stood out as some of the company’s best creations.

Charles couldn’t help but trace his eyes along every crevice of your face while you ranted on. He honestly wasn’t even listening as you bitched on about something you claimed he did. Instead, he was too enraptured with the way your cheeks reddened, the way your eyes narrowed at him, and the way your breasts moved with every exclamation you made. Because really, he is still a man after all and the tight button up shirt you wore was almost sinister. Like seriously, he could’ve sworn the buttons were about to pop open with each breath you took.

“Mon dieu! Even now, you’re still not listening!” You noticed the distant look in Charles’s eyes as he leaned back into his chair. It was like he was looking at you, but not at you. 

You snapped your fingers repeatedly, leaning over the desk, your breasts even more in Charles’s face now. He swore it took everything in him to look at your face, and not your perky breasts dangling in front of him.

“What?”

You stormed out of his office immediately with a loud groan. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

-

“Mamma mia,” Oh my god. Charles exclaimed to no one except himself as he stood tall, his hands tapping the sides of the heavy machine before him. It felt like an eternity, although it had only been about 5 minutes. The matter at hand was perfecting the model of his latest project, but the 3-D printer seemed to be malfunctioning. 

Taking a step back, he began to stare at the machine as if it were his enemy, one hand rested on his hip. A million thoughts ran through his mind as to what could possibly be wrong with the machine. No matter how many times he tried, the layers seemed to be separating far too much, deeming each piece of his model printed earlier as garbage.

The fragrance of sandalwood, laced with a subtle sweetness of vanilla, announced your presence before he could even lay eyes on you. The warm and captivating scent enveloped him, much like it always did. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger in annoyance that he knew it was you without even having to turn around. Without turning his head, he spoke up, catching your attention abruptly.

“Sais-tu comment réparer cela?” Do you know how to fix this?

It was one of the rare occasions when he addressed you without any trace of hatred in his words.  Your mouth hung slack in surprise, and you almost felt the need to rub your eyes in disbelief at the fact there was no back-handed comment involved.

For a few moments, you just stared at the back of his head. Unable to understand why he was even asking for your help in the first place. When he got impatient of waiting for a response, he spun his body around, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, and eyes pointed at you. 

“Hm?” Snapping out of your surprise, you urged him to continue, seeking clarification on what he was referring to. Charles couldn’t help but take note of the tight black jumpsuit that you wore, a black and gold belt cinched at your waist. He felt his heart pound in his chest just a little bit more than normal at the accentuation of your curves as you stepped in front of him, acknowledging the curve of your ass before him.

“It, uh..” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed away his thoughts of your ass. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to finish his words. His cheeks slightly tinted pink as he offers a sheepish smile to you, “it keeps separating the layers too much.”

You nodded your head slowly, “Je déteste quand ça fait ça.” I hate when it does that. You quietly agreed with him, before playing with some of the buttons on the machine. Without any luck of fixing it on your own, your eyes lit up like a light bulb as you remembered Josh, one of your other co-workers, solved this issue before.

“Let me get Josh!” You uttered the name with such excitement that Charles felt an involuntary growl building within him. Josh, a fellow architect at the firm, seemed uncomfortably close to you for Charles’s liking. Not that he cared or anything, but few things irked him more than witnessing you and Josh together in the office like two peas in a pod. The way Josh shamelessly flirted with you constantly only added to his irritation. Not that he liked you or anything, but that didn’t mean he hasn’t thought about shoving you face down over his desk and stuffing you full of his cock. Or that he hasn’t thought of you pressed against the windows of his office, your bare chest against the glass as he slips his cock into your wet folds. Or that he hasn’t thought about shoving his cock so deep into your throat just to get you to be quiet sometimes. 

It was like the flip of a switch, Charles’s irritation pouring out of him, as he spontaneously stomped away from the printing room. Trudging back to his office, leaving you behind in confusion. The last thing he wanted to see was you and Josh fixing something for him.

-

“She’s such a fucking know it all,” Charles groans to a group of his co-workers, bringing the neck of the beer bottle to his lips before taking a swig. His eyes have been following your every move since you stepped foot in the banquet hall tonight.

 It was the 42nd annual office party, which may sound boring at first, but it always ends up with some chaotic story. Last year it was Jane, one of the executive assistants, who got way too drunk she vomited right by the CEO’s feet. The year before that it was Nick, a man who is part of the custodial staff, who went almost too crazy on the dance floor that he knocked a handful of people down and resulted in multiple broken glasses around the place. All in all, the office party is usually the opposite of a bore.

And tonight, Charles decides that it’s definitely not a bore when he spots your outfit for the night. Charles doesn’t miss the curve of your ass as your back faces him, or the fact that Josh’s hand rests lightly against the small of your back either.

You’re dressed to kill tonight. A long silky black gown rests tightly against your skin, aside from the bottom that fans out much like a mermaid tail. The neckline wraps around your neck much like a scarf, a long tail of it falling at your side. 

Charles was so focused on Josh’s hand on you, that he didn’t even hear his co-workers speaking to him until they shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Dude, do you like her or something?”

“Or something.” Charles said with such disgust and hatred laced in his voice. “I don’t know why I always have to get paired with her.” He finished his beer in a hasty speed as you head towards the bar, excusing himself from his friends as he made his way to the same area.

The grip he had on the neck of the empty bottle was so tight, it was close to breaking in the palm of his hand. He leans against the bar, staring straight ahead as he waits for the bartender to acknowledge him.

“What’s got you all wound up?” Sandalwood and Vanilla.

He turns his head, to you and a smiling Josh at your side. He wants to roll his eyes almost immediately. What he would give to be able to punch him right in the face for even being able to touch you. He doesn’t bother to respond to you, turning his head back to the bar.

He’s sick in the head, honestly. He knows he approached the bar only to be closer to you but then ignores you as soon as you’re near. To get some glimpse of you. To smell you. To hear your voice. 

You hate the rejection. No matter how much he grinds your gears, you always try to be polite. You don’t want to argue with him. It’s honestly exhausting to stay arguing with him almost every day. On your first day of work, you actually thought you could be friends, until he opened his mouth and rudely dismissed you. It only made you work harder.

Charles got his drink and made his way back to his group of ‘friends’. He didn’t look at you the rest of the night.

At least until you both crossed paths outside the venue. Josh had left earlier in the night due to not feeling well, leaving you alone, with no jacket, as you tried to call for a ride home. 

Charles’s hands were shoved in the pockets of his dress pants as he approached you, awaiting for the valet to pull his car around. “Where is your jacket?” He questioned, simply curious.

“Why do you care?” You remarked back, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “You ignored me earlier and now you want to talk to me?” 

Charles felt his patience wearing thin, especially at the sight of the goosebumps all over your skin and the chatter of your teeth between each word you spoke. Your nipples were rock hard, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Charles. He felt the blood rush to his cock as his eyes quickly glanced at them. 

He rolled his eyes before shoving his suit jacket off and tossing it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my partner getting sick.” He began, “The project is due too soon for you to call out.” He pulled the excuse out of his ass. Because really, how was he supposed to say that he cared? That he cared about the woman he’s an absolute dick too.

You wanted to argue, he could see the detest in your eyes, but you snuggled into the jacket anyways. Appreciating his gesture and the warmth of the jacket.

The valet pulled his car up, opening the door for Charles, to which Charles handed him a crisp bill for fetching the car for him. You stood on the sidewalk, Charles’s jacket swallowing your body whole, a small breeze blowing the front pieces of your hair off your face. You looked beautiful, and Charles’s knew it was a complete lie if he said other.

“Get in,” He motioned the passenger door open, not bothering to wait for your response before he grasped your small forearm and ushering you into the seat. The car smelt just like him. A smell you wanted to bury yourself in, regardless how annoying he was.

Charles wove through the streets at a leisurely pace, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his knee. The radio volume was low, playing a song you couldn’t remember the name of, as you stared out the window and directed Charles to your home.

He wanted to argue that he knows where it is. That he’s already been there before because one time he went to check on you because you didn’t show up to work without calling in (which was very abnormal). That it’s the building right next to his. But he doesn’t say it and just lets you direct him anyways, just so he can hear your voice a little more. He was greedy when it came to you.

Within a few minutes, he pulled in front of your building, placing the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. You sat silently after unbuckling your own seatbelt, trying to decipher his mood. You never knew what mood you were going to get, but most of the time it was annoyance and anger.

You turned to look at him and your eyes instantly met with his, as he was already looking at you. “Merci.” Your words were soft as you spoke, reaching for the door handle, he stopped you.

“You should dress warmer,” His lips lifted into a small grin, “It’s too cold and I can’t handle this project without you.”

Although it was work related, it was probably the closest compliment you’ve ever received from him. If you wanted to count it as a compliment. You felt your cheeks turn pink at his confession. Who are you? You don’t blush at Charles Leclerc. The architect with a stick up his ass. The guy who grates your every nerve. The guy who is undeniably hot and smells so good, you think about it more often than you want to admit.

“I’ll remember that.” Your hand goes to reach for the car door handle, but he stops you. His muscular arm stretches across your lap, grabbing the door and holding it in place from opening. He’s now practically stretched across the small space of the car, his scent enveloping you, the warmth of his body heating you right up. A small smirk formed on Charles lips as he noticed how flustered you were getting towards his proximity.

“Are you and Josh dating?” It was a simple question, but the words felt like acid on his tongue. You couldn’t help but notice the displeased look on his face as he straightens his body, providing more space between the two of you.

Your eyes widened in shock before muttering a quick, “No!” You coughed slightly, almost choking on your shock. 

“Bien.” Good.  Was all he said, before unlocking the doors, giving you the go ahead to get out of the car. It was when you were about three steps from the car door that he rolled down the window and said, “You can return the jacket at work.”

-

It’s today, that Charles decides he has had it up to here. If he must witness Josh’s fingers graze your skin one more time, he swears he will combust. So, to make himself feel some relief of his anger, he starts a fight with you. Naturally.

“It’s a shitty plan and even you know it!” 

Honestly, it is a shit plan. And Charles knows that it’s a shit one too, but he would never admit that to you. Not when he is this pent up over fucking Josh. Not when it gives him an excuse to spend more time with you.

Which is what led you into his office, the clock nearing midnight, as you both are sprawled (as much as you can be) around his desk. The current plans of the project are scattered everywhere and not one other person, beside the both of you, are within the offices floor.

Your hair had made its way into a clip, leaving your neck uncovered and exposed. Charles’s found himself often staring at the nape of your neck when you weren’t looking. His desire to litter marks all over it was growing with each second that he spent in your proximity. Sandalwood and Vanilla.

“Is there a reason you’re always so mean to me?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he lifted his pencil, leaning back in his chair to face you more. You looked beautiful, like always. He could feel the burn in his chest as the words left your lips.

He was silent for a moment. Contemplating if he’s supposed to tell you that he’s mean to you because he doesn’t know how to act around you. That he’s mean to you because he wants to fuck you so badly, it consumes his every thought. That he’s mean to you because you are mean to him too.

“You’re not innocent either,” He remarks. His eyes shifting back to the drawing in front of him. Honestly, the plans weren’t looking much better but you both refused to give up.

You nodded your head slowly in agreement. You couldn’t deny that sometimes you were snippier towards him for no reason. It probably had to do with the fact that almost every week since you met, you’ve had to use your vibrator to the thought of him to ease the burn in your stomach just enough to get through the day.

You both didn’t know what it was about each other. You got under each other’s skin like no other.

And it wasn’t until he brought his eyes back to you, green meeting yours, that he noticed the dilation in your pupils. He could no longer pretend that he didn’t want you. It was killing him.

His hand grasps the back of your neck in a tight grip, asserting his dominance, as he pulls you into him. Your lips smashing into each other. He wasted no time before slipping his tongue directly into your mouth, moaning in the process as you let him in with such ease.

Your taut nipples poked through fabric of your bralette underneath the silk top you wore. Charles kept one hand on the back of your neck, pressing you into him, while the other slipped into the buttoned shirt, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He groaned hotly into your mouth as he grabbed a handful of your breast, something he’s always wanted to do.

You crawled your way into his lap, the short skirt riding up your waist as you straddled his lap in the desk chair. You grinded against his thigh, moaning into his mouth. He swallowed every moan you gave, his hands eventually sliding down to your hips and guiding your movement.

“You drive me fucking crazy, chérie.” He spoke the words in between kisses, the sentence sounding broken as your tongue swirled around his.

“Are we really doing this?” You pulled away, unable to stop the motion of your hips as you stared at him. His hair was in complete disarray, lips swollen from kissing you so hard, and his eyes were half-shut like he was drunk off of your kisses.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he places his hands onto the backside of your thighs and lifted you as he came to a stance, placing you directly on the edge of his desk before him.

You both were frantic, ripping off each other’s clothes as fast as you could in between the wet, hot open-mouthed kisses. It wasn’t long before you were almost completely nude, aside from the mini skirt bunched above your waist, and sprawled along his desk with his hard cock stretching the velvet walls of your pussy with a delicious burn. His thumb pressed tiny but firm circles on your swollen clit, leaving you delusional on his desk.

His lips trailed all over your body. They moved from the spot right below your ear, to the underside of your jaw, up to the corner of your mouth.

“Feel so fucking good, chérie.” He groaned. His hips moving at a fervent pace, you don’t think you would last much longer, especially with his hot words whispered into the shell of your ear.

He pulled away from you for a moment, just to stare at how fucked you were. Your hair was no longer in a clip, seeing as he pulled it out of your hair and tossed it across his office just mere minutes ago. Your cheeks and chest were flushed, and the bounce of your tits almost had him cumming on the spot.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” He confesses. The words jumbling off his lips as he ruts against you, the large wooden desk pushing forward with each powerful thrust of his hips into you. The office walls echoed your moans, you were practically screaming in pleasure for the entire world to hear.

You nodded your head repeatedly, unable to form the words, too drunk off the feeling of his cock pressing against the very spot that ached the most for him. Because you too, wanted this for so long.

“Yeah?” He smugly asks. “You wanted this too?” He slows his hips down, but it doesn’t lessen the effect of just how good his cock feels against you. Your walls are clamped around him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

“Mhm,” you groaned. “Needed this so bad….needed you” You words were almost incoherent as he spits directly onto your clit, his thumb now speeding up the little circles he’s been doing all this time.

He had to pinch his eyes shut at the confession, almost sending him to release his cum right into you. “Mon dieu,” His voice grumbles, reverberating in his chest as he leans over your body on the desk, trailing his tongue and sucking on your nipple.

“I’m gonna,” you begin. “fuck, fuck,” It takes a few seconds of Charles sucking on your nipple before the burn deep in your stomach completely takes over, sending your legs spasming around his waist. Your orgasm was explosive and wet. You don’t think you’ve ever experienced this before as you squeeze around Charles’s cock so tightly, he feels like he can barely move his cock. 

“Fucking, mmm,” He can barely get full sentences out as you squirt all over his cock and onto the papers of his desk. “That’s a good girl,” He stands up tall, watching you thrash around on his desk, and the now soaked plans beneath your body.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Feels so fucking good”

“So fucking beautiful”

“Does my cock feel as good as you feel to me?” 

With a few more mumbled phrases spewing out of Charles’s lips, his own orgasm hits him, as he pulls out quickly, his hot cum landing directly across your stomach in a gooey string.

You both were panting, unable to form words as he collapses his chest down onto you. The ability to stand lost on him as his pants rest at his ankles. Your chests move in sync as you catch your breaths, Charles’s cum pressed to both of your skin.

“Looks like we need to re-do the plans again.” Charles jokes which quickly earns a soft chuckle from your lips in response.

[hippolotamus]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

tagged by the lovely @diazsdimples @tizniz @daffi-990 @rewritetheending (go check their amazing stuff!) ��

some words from what I'm informally calling the Buck Bobby con fic

“Hey, Pops!” Buck bursts into Bobby’s office with his usual enthusiasm. Which is to say all the energy of a golden retriever who hasn’t been fully house trained. That’s what Hen and Chim always tell him. Bobby’s face seems to confirm it with the way his eyebrows raise and he tilts his head. Buck swallows, trying not to let it deter him.  “What do you think?” He holds out the lapels of his new suit, twirling in a circle to show off. He’s never had a suit like this one before. It’s a simple charcoal gray color, but the cut and fit are incredible. Nothing like the time he needed something formal for homecoming. His parents had him pick a blazer, shirt, pants and tie off the rack at a local department store. Everything about that ensemble was slightly off, like he was a kid playing dress up.  It’s nice to have something so custom and fine tuned to his body. Something that’s his.  “I told you, don’t call me ‘Pops’, kid.” Bobby sighs, looking back down at the blueprints on his desk. He smooths them out, even though they’re already anchored down with various items from around Bobby’s desk. His finger traces over faint white gridlines. “This isn’t an adoption agency, it’s a- well, you know the gig. I have my business and you have yours.” “Uh, right. Thanks.” Buck rubs the back of his neck. He feels a bit like a puppy that peed on the rug. He knows Bobby hates getting interrupted. It’s just that Bobby’s always so busy and Buck wants to show him how he’s growing, becoming more mature since he joined the team. It’s only been four months, and Buck can more than get by on the simpler heists, but he’s eager to prove he can be a dependable asset for bigger jobs. That he can keep up with Hen and Chim, and maybe one day run a job on his own.

np tagging (lmk if you want added or removed for this one) @actuallyitsellie @diazheartsbuckley @dangerpronebuddie @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard

@bucksbignaturals @bucksbiawakening @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @stereopticons

@kitteneddiediaz @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings

@eowon @spaceprincessem @inell @jesuisici33 @dr-shortsighted-owl

@dorkydiaz @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck

@beyourownanchor6 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus

@thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[jintaka-hane]

Asked by: @artemis162534 (sorry! I had a problem with the original ask and had to make a screenshot)

Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event

PAULIE

Summary: On New Year's Eve, your boss overplays the urgency of some ship project, leaving you stuck working late in the shipyard. It’s all a setup to give Paulie, the shy and hardworking colleague, a chance to spend time with you. Word count: 1200 Warning: x f!reader! fluff, shy Technically, it’s still January 15th in my timezone!! My self-imposed deadline!! I’m sorry it took me so long to finish this, but once I started working again, everything got a bit complicated. Thank you for reading and for all the positive feedback you’ve given me throughout this event!! Love you all!!

Tap, tap, tap.

Brow furrowed in concentration, you hammer the nail into place before picking another from the three tucked between your lips. You’re quite the sight. Kneeling on a wooden plank in an elegant evening gown, contrasted by the rough work gloves covering your hands. You’re barefoot too. The heels you put on thinking you’d be at the party with your coworkers, are useless here.

Tap, tap, tap.

You strike again with the hammer, running your thumb over the surface to make sure the nail is fully embedded. You’ve been working on this piece for so long that you’ve lost count of how many screwdrivers have passed through your hands. Brushing sawdust from your dress, you step back to check if the piece is perfectly aligned.

“It’s leaning too much,” you hear behind you the Vice President of the prestigious shipwright company, Galley-La.

Sighing, you wipe the sweat from your brow and turn just in time to catch the square Paulie tosses your way. A couple of seconds are enough for you to confirm that, indeed, the piece leaning. Mistakes like this would normally embarrass you, but after hours of nonstop work on this high-priority project, fatigue is catching up.

Paulie makes a gesture for you to come closer and examine the blueprints spread across the table. He’s dressed as elegantly as you are, in a suit jacket with a flower perched in the front pocket. “It’s a 90-degree angle, see?” he says, tracing his fingertips along the ship’s design.

Your head nearly brushes against his as you lean in to inspect the plans. Paulie steals a quick glance at you, blushing hard before snapping his eyes back to the blueprints. He’s trying his hardest to focus on the work. But as midnight approaches, it’s getting harder and harder to keep his thoughts in line.

"Come on, I'll help you fix it," he says, slipping on his goggles as he grabs a claw hammer and crouches down to pull out the nails.

Meanwhile, from the courtyard of Galley-La Headquarters, Iceburg raises his champagne glass and clinks it against Lulu’s and Tilestone’s. Watching the workers enjoying themselves, he muses to himself whether he might have exaggerated the urgency of your current project. Okay, fine, the deadline wasn’t that tight. Maybe you and Paulie could be here right now, celebrating with the rest of the company at the end-of-year party. But he had his reasons. He’d spent far too long watching Paulie pine after you with googly-eyed devotion, never daring to take a step forward. And people tend to kiss on New Year’s Eve, right? Maybe a quiet shipyard and a little nudge would do the trick... or maybe not. Iceburg sighs into his champagne. This was Paulie, after all.

"One, two, three, four..." Paulie mutters as he counts the cast-iron screws needed to get that perfect 90-degree angle. Only twelve are needed, but he’s already counted them four times, silently cursing as his mind loops over the words he wishes he could say to you tonight.

“Paulie, can you hold this here?” You make him jolt.

"Huh? Oh—yeah, sure," he tries to sound casual as he places his hands exactly where you asked. His fingers hover just a few centimeters from yours, but to him, the distance feels impossibly vast.

"Shit", your hands tremble. You’re too tired, and you can’t quite manage to fit the screwdriver into the slot.

“Let me,” Paulie takes the tool from your hands to relieve you and give you a break.

With a brief nod, you allow yourself to enjoy your much-needed pause. Your back leans against the wall as you watch Paulie work in silence. He’s so responsible and dedicated to his job... Even though he’s in an executive position, he’s always ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in with everyone else when there’s a tight deadline.

Your eyes focus on his hands, which seem to caress the wood, treating the ships with as much care and respect as if they were his own. But your thoughts are interrupted as you catch the faint sound of shouts and the thrum of music from some party down at the port. You uncover your wrist, glance at your watch, and smile.

“Two minutes to midnight,” you say.

"Great," Paulie leans forward, flexing his arms as he applies more pressure, pretending the screw is giving him trouble. For a moment, he works in silence, his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on the piece of wood, until he can't hold it in anymore. "Would you rather be with the others?" His question comes out suddenly.

“Uh, what?”

“I imagine this isn’t exactly the best New Year’s Eve for you,...” he explains, his focus still on the work. “Working nonstop… and with me…”

You giggle before grabbing another screw and handing it to him. “Paulie, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s Eve.”

You smile hits him in the split second his eyes meet yours, and he chuckles before quickly averting his eyes. He’s never been able to hold your gaze when you smile at him like that.

“Okay, this is ready now,” he says, straightening up after giving the screwdriver a couple more turns.

From the port, distant shouts, cheers, and the sharp crack of fireworks drift toward you in the night air. You glance at your watch once more, and a smile spreads across your face.

“Happy New Year, Paulie!” you grin at him, reaching out to hug him. But he freezes, the screwdriver still hovering in mid-air.

“Happy New—shit!” he blurts out, covering his face with his hands as a wild blush spreads across his cheeks. You’re used to seeing him blush, but this? This is something else.

“Paulie!! Are you okay?” you step closer to him.

“Uh… yeah, I…” you hear him mumble through his hands. His face is radiating so much heat that his goggles fog up.

“Paulie?”

"Y-Yeah, I just..." he mumbles, still hiding behind his hands, and if it’s possible, you can tell he’s turning even redder. "I-I wanted to... damn, I wanted to kiss you… b-but..." The words get stuck in his throat, and he clenches his jaw, shutting up to stop making a fool of himself in front of you.

You sigh, unable to hold back a smile as you step closer and gently take his hands away from his face.

"Paulie..." you whisper, shaking your head. His eyes are squeezed shut behind his protective glasses, but when you gently lift them off and rest them on his forehead, he slowly opens his eyes, filled with embarrassment.

Leaning in just a little, you tilt your head, and your lips brush against his, feeling them warm, shaky, and hesitant. Your mouth guides his through his nervous clumsiness in slow but steady movements, drawing from him a kiss as soft as it is tender. Paulie's arms fall uselessly to his sides, and with a clank, the screwdriver slips from his hands and hits the floor. The sound makes you jump, and much to Paulie’s dismay, you pull away and glance down.

"Uhhh, Paulie," you say, your eyes widening at his work on the floor.

"Yeah?" he whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

"This still isn’t a 90-degree angle!"

................................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[hae-yeon]

326.Black Dragon's Heart (1)

흑룡의 심장 (1)

The Young Chaos. Although the moniker may have been unbefitting of his current appearance; a pure white blade was held in his grip. I could hazily make out the black dragon’s body crouching down. Despite being impressively tall, with broad shoulders and a strong back, Chaos still appeared diminutive compared to the dragon that towered over him. Beyond being seen as slight, to the point of almost seeming fragile. But even then, it didn’t feel as though he felt hard-pressed by his opponent at all.

Rather, the reverse appeared to be the case. The black dragon staggered backwards, seemingly repelled by an invisible force that overpowered even its own oppressive aura. Meanwhile, Chaos stood relaxed, as leisurely as though he had simply stepped outside for a walk, with no trace of nervousness to be found in his stance.

“...Yoohyun-ah.”

I turned my body slightly, shifting out of the protective embrace I’d caged my dongsaeng in. So that Yoohyunie would be able to witness the sight unfolding before us.

“Make sure you get a good look.”

“...hyung.”

“If it’s difficult for your eyes to focus, then concentrate your mind instead, and engrave it into your memory through your body. The power of a being beyond this world, unshackled from any restraints.”

A threshold that Yoohyunie should one day be able to cross, unlike me. Simply being able to experience that power should prove useful to him, though he might be far away from achieving it yet. Whether it was because it could serve as a blueprint, or that it worked to spark his aspirations. Of course, there was the possibility that it might simply cause him to feel cowed instead; but my dongsaeng wasn’t that weak. And even in the case that it did make him flinch back, I just had to help him up again. Over and over, as many times as he required.

Supported by my body, Yoohyunie managed to prop himself up from where he’d been leaning against me. The color in his face has almost returned back to normal as well. All this, when he didn’t even have Fear Resistance the way I did; he really was truly commendable.

“Hyung, are you alright?”

“What d’you think.”

Even if my condition had improved slightly, it still felt as though I had a noose pulling tight around my throat. Because of the knowledge that, with a single slip, I might lose my dongsaeng once again, above all. The only thing driving me to grit my teeth and hold fast was the understanding that, if I were to let my fear consume me at this juncture and give up, it actually would be the end.

- Krrrrrrr.

A threatening growl reverberated out as the dragon’s maw opened. Unconsciously, I tightened my grip on Yoohyunie again. Beyond a row of teeth and tongue, the endless black pit of its throat became exposed. 

Gales of wind rushed together, and coalesced into a dense ball within the canal; then, in a single breath–was expelled in a single breath. 

콰과과과–!!

The waters of the lake, once filled to the brim, evaporated in a flash. An instantaneous vaporization, that didn’t even permit steam to form. Despite not having been touched by that power, my entire being trembled. It was an attack that neither of us would have been able to withstand for even a moment, without the shadow of a doubt.

But it had no effect on the man standing before it at all.

스르륵, in the face of a dragon’s breath that obliterated everything in its path, a hand wielding a snow-white sword shifted. Gravity drew the draped sleeve back. In the same manner one might use a rod to playfully toy with a kitten–gently, lightly, the flourish of a blade rose to meet a blast of heat bearing dreadful, tremendous force.

구구궁–

A thunderous sound filled the air, like the heavy percussion of thousands of drums. My chest squeezed, stifling my ability to breathe. Fighting against the intense urge to block both my ears and eyes, I forced myself to look straight ahead.

How could it possibly be described as a simple ‘wielding of magical energy,’ what had just transpired. The pure white blade, which had initially appeared to be a simple ‘shield’ brought up against the torrential wave of pitch black energy rushing forward, had somehow transformed into a towering mountain that came crashing down. With a single sweep of the blade, the ruined landscape surrounding us had been petrified completely, the molten carnage now frozen in place.

Following the movement of his arm, the sleeve of his garment slipped back down past his wrist as the snow-white blade completed its circuit. A faint light traversed across the length of the naked edge.

“I recall you gave me quite some trouble, back then.”

Chaos spoke as he walked forward, footsteps as light as though engaged in a dance.

“Mind, it’s worth noting I’d been a callow youth yet. And ‘twas a sweltering land, where both ground and sky boiled over with heat.”

But at present, well. Although I was unable to see his face to verify it myself, he continued on in a voice that clearly conveyed a smile. 

“You certainly resemble a common lizard.”

Chaos’s form vanished. But it didn’t seem to be the work of a Skill. My eyes were simply incapable of keeping up with the speed at which he’d moved. Then, suddenly–a black shape reappeared in my disoriented field of view. The enormous head, which had loomed so high above that it seemed it might graze the sun, 쿵!,  abruptly crashed down to the ground. A shattered horn was flung away, broken off in the commotion of movement, and was buried deep in the earth.

Without any ado, the dragon had summarily been beheaded.

Yet, the dragon’s body still showed signs of movement. As though engaging in a last-ditch struggle, vast wings unfurled, kicking up buffeting winds that extended to even where we were.

“Ugk!”

I hastily wrapped myself around Yoohyunie and threw up a shield, but it was about as effective as holding up a leaf. As my shield was shattered into tiny pieces, Yoohyunie swiftly enveloped us in his Coat to protect me in turn. But even the Coat, which was reinforced with multiple overlapping defensive properties, was unable to withstand even the gusts that had been generated as a byproduct. As though we’d been dealt a powerful blow, the two of us slid across the ground, our limbs entangling together; I urgently cast a healing Skill on my dongsaeng. 

“Ugh… Yoohyun-ah, are you alri–”

콰르르릉!

Before we could even pick our bodies back up, the ground shook once again. The sky lit up with the flash of ten thousand lightning strikes, then began to dim. Just a moment before, the sun had been high up in the sky; yet now, the heavens had turned pitch black. The acrid scent of smoke saturated the air, as did the metallic tang of blood. It felt as though we were weaponless civilians that had been dropped in the middle of a battlefield, while bombs went off all around us.

Engulfed in a veritable tempest that we could barely hope to withstand, my dongsaeng hauled us upright, propping me up with his own body. The hem of his Coat fluttered violently as the storm continued to rage around us. Blood and dirt covered us from head to toe, and our hair was as disarrayed as could be. It wouldn’t have been a stretch to say that we resembled refugees; but already, Yoohyunie had recovered the same level of composure he normally displayed.

Steady eyes gazed out at the landscape that had been gorged open and savaged by molten flames. After a pause to bite down on his lip, he spoke.

“It’s terrifying to behold, after all.”

“Yoohyun-ah.”

“It’s impossible for me to keep hyung safe, in the face of an adversary like that.”

But even as he made such an objective assessment, there was no hint of resignation to be found in his voice. He was acutely aware of how powerless he was at present; but even then, I instinctively sensed that my dongsaeng wouldn’t hesitate to step forward to protect me from harm, to the bitter end. 

“...I’m saying this just in case, don’t ever think that it’s because you’re lacking. It’s the result of a gap created by time, and the experience it brings. You’re absolutely strong in your own right, and you’ll even become powerful enough to stand on level ground with those beings. One day.”

Yoohyunie gave a small nod. But though I had reassured him out loud, a sense of hopelessness did pervade me. Not regarding Yoohyunie, but around my own affairs. Chatterbox might not have been able to barge in unchecked with his original strength, but goddammit. He was really playing dirty, setting up this sort of extreme ‘lightweight versus heavyweight’ scenario in a bid at revenge.

The ground trembled once more, and the sky thrashed wildly, as though it meant to collapse. And the ‘earthquake’ was far from being an ordinary one; it shook the very fabric of the dimension we were in, causing us to lose our footing and pitching us back to the ground. A thick murderous intent washed over us, cloying enough to cause my skin to prickle in pain, and then–.

It became quiet.

Light dawned in the sky, like the heavens had been washed anew; and from somewhere far off, the clear, sweet sound of running water could be heard. The wicked pressure that had been pressing on us from all sides, as well as the magical power that had tossed both sky and earth into turmoil, had suddenly disappeared. 

Did it mean that the encounter was over, then. As I finally let out a ragged breath, having struggled to breathe all the while, I sensed a presence approaching. Making an easy leap over a jutting section of earth, someone strode over to where we were. Naturally, I expected to be greeted by the Young Chaos, but.

“Huh?”

It was a young child. His previous appearance nowhere to be seen; and instead, this form was swimming in the sleeves of a loose robe clutched tight, just like the first time I’d met him. And in the same way as before, his features bore an uncanny similarity to Yoohyunie’s face from when he had been younger. 

“...that person.”

Having caught sight of the Young Chaos’s appearance, Yoohyunie gaze swung back towards me.

“Hyung’s still really attached to how I looked as a child, huh.”

Yoohyunie observed, his tone clearly implying that ‘he must appear that way as a result of my influence, of course.’ 

“That’s not, I mean.”

I was pretty attached to it, yes, but… Objectively speaking, he really was adorable, though, in truth. Shouldn’t it be stranger if I didn’t feel that way, right. While I was preoccupied, the Young Chaos had almost reached us with rapid steps. When I opened my mouth to convey my thanks, before anything else–

“Ack!”

A tiny hand snatched up my ear in a vice grip. And then, it gave my ear a sharp twist.

“Hyung!”

“Hurts! It hurts! Please, sir, let g–, ack!”

All he had done was give my ear a little tweak, but it still smarted enough to cause tears well up in my eyes. Instinctively, I tugged at Chaos’s arm to try and pry him away, but I couldn’t get him to budge even an inch. It was like trying to tear apart a lump of iron. Flustered, Yoohyunie reached out a hand to try and rescue me. But even before he could get close, 툭, the white sword, still inside its scabbard, smacked Yoohyunie’s hand away. 

Eyes narrowed in a glare, the Young Chaos looked at me and snapped.

“Eager to throw your life away, are you.”

“That’s, ack!”

“Hyung! Ugk!”

This time, as Yoohyunie attempted to intervene again, the white scabbard jabbed sharply into my dongsaeng’s side. On the surface, it seemed as though the ‘attack’ would have barely left a bruise; yet, it caused Yoohyunie to double over immediately, his body dropping to the floor.

“How dare you, ugh, lay your hands on someone else’s dongsaeng! Ack, I said that it hurts!”

“Here you are, throwing around Skills you hardly even grasp how to use, for someone who’s supposedly protecting his dongsaeng.”

“That’s not, ugh, hold on……!”

It hurt, it really hurt! Real tears spilled down my face. And even when I went to try and use my Skills, for whatever reason, my magical energy refused to respond. All I could do was struggle ineffectually while stooped over, forced to hunker down by an adversary much shorter than myself.

“...hyuh-, hyung!”

As though he had been struck with a paralyzing agent, Yoohyunie watched helplessly with distress clear in his face, barely managing to hold his head upright. My dongsaeng shouted at him to let me go, but the Young Chaos didn’t even pretend to have heard him.

“That thing would not have been allowed in here, had you not drawn my blade.”

“Ngk, it was my fau–, guh, I was the, ack! Ah, ah!”

“As it appears you cannot be trusted to refrain from using such artifacts, discard any objects of similarly dubious origin.”

“U-understood, sir!”

My ear was finally released after several more heartfelt entreaties of repentance. When I fell to the ground, a hand wrapped around my poor throbbing ear, Yoohyunie rushed over to pull me into his arms and glared at the Young Chaos.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt a lot?”

“I’m oka..y. Ugh… Just what exactly did you do, sir, to make it so that having an ear twisted feels even more painful than being stuck with a knife?”

I liked to think I had a fairly high pain tolerance, but it really had been no joke. And it was a different sort of pain than the kind that made you feel as though your life was at risk. It almost felt like the idea that ‘you’re in pain’ was being forcefully crammed into your head. Like I’d been put under a kind of hypnosis that had put me in a state where ‘all that’s happening is that your ear is being twisted, but it’ll feel like you’re experiencing an excruciating amount of pain.’

“...in any case, thank you, sir. For your assistance.”

I eventually said, roughly wiping away my tears. Additionally, I endeavored to pacify Yoohyunie, who was still incredibly upset, as well.

“This is the gentleman who provided me with your sword, okay. You can’t fight him. And he just saved us too, besides.”

And even if you tried, you probably wouldn’t be able to lift a finger against him right now, anyway. My ear, which had been aching fit to fall right off, presently returned to normal. Climbing back to my feet, I looked at the youth who resembled Yoohyunie.

“You were an adult just a little while ago, sir, so I’m curious as to why you seem to have reverted back to this form.”

“It is a curse, of a sort.”

“Even so–there’s little reason for you to take on my dongsaeng’s appearance, I should think, sir. Particularly when we’re not even in the real world.”

Hearing my words, the Young Chaos hiked up his brows.

“This is my own appearance.”

“...come again, sir?”

“It is your own prejudice coloring your perception, biased as you are as a result of the mind dimension Skill. Look closely once more.”

Inwardly repeating ‘the Young Chaos doesn’t look like my dongsaeng’ like a mantra, I closed my eyes then opened them again. Hmm… He still looked awfully similar to him, though. His eyes had always been crimson, but the locks of his hair were a smidge less curlier. A slight difference in the overall structure of their faces; and was he maybe a little bit shorter? Though in his adult form, he had appeared to be taller than Yoohyunie.

“I don’t seem to see a huge difference, though, sir. Do you happen to take after my dongsaeng, perhaps?”

“It is your dongsaeng who takes after me.”

Saying so, he looked at Yoohyunie.

“Though I’m more handsome, of course.”

The hell. After observing Yoohyunie for a moment, Chaos tilted his head. Because he resembled Yoohyunie all the same, the gesture looked adorable, despite myself.

“How curious.”

“What–”

Chaos’s form disappeared. Nearly simultaneously, I heard Yoohyunie let out a low cry. When I frantically whipped my head around, I witnessed the youth brusquely grab Yoohyunie by the neck and then slam him down to the ground.

“What do you think you’re doing!”

This fake-young old geezer! Blinded by urgency, I lunged at him with just my bare hands. But before I could even properly move, 찰싹, the belt of his robe whipped out to strike my hand. Just like before, the pain was intense enough to wring out a cry from me. Fighting against the way my body instinctively moved to curl in on itself, I reached out to grab hold of the belt. Chaos, who had been gazing down at Yoohyunie where he was pinned prone, turned to glance back at me.

“Ho, this young punk.”

He smiled, for some inscrutable reason; then, in a flash, he had wrapped his belt around my wrists. Making two or so loops before I could even think about struggling, I suddenly found that my hands had been tightly bound together. I couldn’t even begin to process what had just happened.

“I’ve no intention of harming your hyung.”

Releasing Yoohyunie from his grip, the Young Chaos rose up and casually nudged me. As I sat down heavily on the ground, unable to keep my balance, he instructed me to ‘stay put’ and turned his gaze back towards Yoohyunie. Pushing himself up, Yoohyunie met his eyes. I could see the clear imprints of a hand left on my dongsaeng’s throat.

“Just as I’d thought.”

With that brief remark, the youth lunged. Moving at a speed that was still impossible to follow, he swung his longsword, still sheathed in its scabbard. Yoohyunie’s arm shot out just in time to narrowly block the blade aimed at his heart, but.

Slam!

“Yoohyun-ah!”

Despite the guard he’d put up, Yoohyunie’s body was thrown directly airborne; he was flung a good ten or so meters away before he crashed down into the ground, hitting the floor heavily.

“Hey! Cut that shit out!”

What did this senile old fart think he was doing to someone else’s kid! Clumsily, I used a teleportation Skill while still sitting on the ground. The moment I appeared at Yoohyunie’s side, though, Chaos was already aiming a kick my way. In terms of force, it was more of a love tap, rather than a full-on attack; but with that being said, how the hell had he managed to maneuver even faster than teleportation.

As I was sent rolling across the ground, suddenly–스르릉, the hair-raising sound of a sword scraping against its scabbard reached my ears. He’d unsheathed his blade. S-shit, this crazy fucker, just what was he planning on doing!

“You deranged bastard! If anything happens to my dongsaeng, just know you’ll be killing me too!”

“Watch your tongue.”

Tsk, with the sound of a tongue clicking, the rope belt binding my wrists together was cleanly sliced away. When I hurriedly pushed myself upright, I could see Yoohyunie sitting on the ground. He didn’t seem to have sustained any major injuries, but there was a bright crimson line drawn against his neck. The traces of a blade wound. Rushing over to my dongsaeng, I planted myself in front of him.

“Let’s talk this out instead, sir, alright! What exactly is the issue here!”

“Rather than there being an issue.”

Returning his sword to his waist, the Young Chaos glanced up at me.

“I’m quite curious as to how you’ve managed to compel something that isn’t human to play at being so.”

“...sir?”

“I mean that dongsaeng of yours, of course.”

…reflexively, my face twisted into a deep sneer. So you weren’t even going to pretend to consider another person’s precious dongsaeng as being human now, huh.

- - - - -

+(Q&A)

Q) in the webtoon, the scenario is portrayed that, in that D-rank Dungeon at the beginning, following a fairly harsh verbal altercation, han yoojin decides he would rather be the one to die to the lauchitas; in the original text, the scene that the first chapter opens on, han yoohyun’s death pov–would it be alright to ask after what you thought that meeting between the brothers would’ve been like, in the Dungeon? is it similar to what happened in the webtoon? A) it’s similar ^^ in the novel, he never attempted to die, but if han yoojin at that time thought that han yoohyun might be safe so long as he wasn’t there, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated to kill himself. the han yoojin pre-regression is a character that tried to stay alive no matter what, but because the biggest reason for that was han yoohyun, so long as his dongsaeng’s life was at stake, he probably would’ve given up all that more easily.

+(Q&A)

Q) how did the elder come to be called not simply <chaos>, but specifically <‘young’ chaos>? A) chaos was unbridled from the first, when he became a transcendent, and ran unchecked. he was a terrifying newcomer, in a number of ways^^ it is both a reference to how he was the youngest of the transcendents at the time, as well as commentary on his ‘youthful impudence,’ re:how, even after rising to the rank of a transcendent, he never hesitated to raise his blade to meet any who challenged him, regardless of their position relative to him in the hierarchy. yet–in the end, the young chaos ultimately became one of the few Transcendents who models what a proper adult should be like, and displays an insightful capacity for true wisdom.

+(Q&A)

Q) when yoohyunie was young–perhaps, because of his lovely appearance, was he ever stopped on the streets by a modeling/talent scout (street casting)? A) they noticed him from afar and began to approach him, but upon observing him from a closer distance, experienced an uneasy feeling that caused them to turn back around. even then, he did receive several offers, but han yoojin turned all of them down. if han yoohyun wanted to go into the entertainment industry, then it would be better to do so after he graduated high school, he said. of course, han yoohyun had zero interest ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m aware that he takes after the young chaos due to the primordial fire’s influence, but does that mean han yoohyun doesn’t outwardly resemble his parents or other relatives? A) because the ones who made the physical vessel for him do exert some influence, it can be thought of as ‘young chaos + han brothers’ parents,’ roughly speaking. when han yoohyun had just been born, he resembled the parents a bit more; but as he grew and his fire attribute became stronger, he began to resemble the primordial fire and the young chaos further. however, the parents’ influence does remain, so that’s why he still hears things like how he’s ‘different from han yoojin, but still bears some similarities, as befitting of brothers’ ^^ part of it can be attributed to the fact that, as the young chaos’s race bears close similarities to east asians, he ended up growing to resembling him even more. if the species or race had been completely different, then he probably wouldn’t have resembled the young chaos as much as he does at present.

+(Q&A)

Q) irinie mentioned that fire shouldn’t be stifled, because it transforms when it’s suppressed; since the 24y.o. yoohyunie in the dungeon had not only changed from a black flame (흑염) to a black blood flame (흑혈염), but also became instilled with poison, even after reconciling with yoojinie, would he be able to recover his blue fire (청염) still? A) as drawing forth one’s own natural affinity is a difficult task in itself, no matter which han yoohyun, so long as a han yoojin with a caretaker title is not by his side, even after rising to the rank of a transcendent, he would only be able to earn his blue fire after a very long period of development. however, as the flame would have died out before long without han yoojin becoming his world, consequently, that outcome is effectively an impossibility ^^ the reason the primordial fire was incapable of finding a fire to succeed it for that long period of time, was for a similar reason. the closer it is to being a ‘pure’ flame, the more likely it is to be snuffed out before properly maturing. as the han yoohyun(24) within the dungeon has han yoojin(29) by his side, he is capable of fostering blue flames. however, as the han yoojin within the dungeon has the lesser ‘caretaker’ title, the effect is far more diminished than that of han yoojin(25)’s, so it won’t be an easy task. because of that, rather than forfeiting the black blood fire to revert to a blue fire, there’s a higher likelihood that they(2429) will choose to develop the black blood fire further instead.

+(Q&A)

Q) what were some of the things that you thought were important, when writing an entity that’s far from being human? A) (about han yoohyun) only, as han yoohyun isn’t ‘a lifeform concerned about continued survival(self-preservation),’ he’s an outlier even among the non-human entities ^^ in polar opposite to the ones mentioned above, his natural disposition is to completely disregard the surrounding environment. the sole exception for that flame was han yoojin, and accordingly, han yoohyun only experiences change through han yoojin. no other environmental factors or beings are capable of influencing him.

+(Q&A)

Q) considering that, aside from han yoojin, seok shimyoung was at han yoohyun’s side for a very long time–then, does he have an understanding re:han yoohyun’s original nature, to an extent? A) seok shimyoung considers han yoohyun to be an entity beyond comprehension. from when they had first met, he’d quickly picked up on the fact that han yoohyun’s social sensibilities were less ‘human’, and closer to being a different ‘sort’ altogether; and having judged that, rather than attempting to teach and change han yoohyun, it would be more efficient to leverage that point instead, he structured haeyeon guild to follow after its guild leader. though he does not understand han yoohyun’s true nature, he registers him as a being with the prerogative to move differently from ordinary humans. of course, had han yoohyun attempted to incinerate everything the way his original nature had dictated, then seok shimyoung, too, would have rejected him, and viewed him as a threat; but, as han yoohyun was able to at least mimic basic social conventions through han yoojin’s influence, seok shimyoung thought that that much would suffice. as he’s the kind of person who puts little stock in the true nature of humans, even–rather than a human who would make a blunder of things, it’s his opinion that the intelligent monster who knows how to pretend to be human is the better alternative ^^ only, due to this, he misjudged the weight of the value that han yoojin’s existence holds to han yoohyun. if seok shimyoung had been able to understand han yoohyun a little better, then things would probably have been considerably different, whether for good or ill.

+(Q&A)

(han yoohyun) sung hyunjae feels no emotions or interest towards han yoohyun. this is because he has gleaned the truth of han yoohyun’s special constitution(특성)–that the human charade he puts on is realized solely through han yoojin. as han yoohyun without han yoojin is simply an ‘organism’, the need to pay him any mind disappeared entirely. that is why, after the first half, he doesn’t even bother to antagonize(provoke) han yoohyun. as he doesn’t view han yoohyun as an independent entity, and considers han yoojin to be his master, when sung hyunjae initiates a conversation, etc., with han yoohyun, his conduct is no different from if he were interacting with han yoojin himself. in the beginning, he supposed that han yoojin ought to let go of han yoohyun so that he could return to being a ‘flame’; but at present, he’s now of the mind that han yoohyun is necessary for han yoojin’s mental stability. however, the kind of change of heart he might still show is uncertain.

[princesskenny1998]

Ghostbusters | Trevor Spengler x f!confident!reader ~ Or both?, PT.3

The afternoon light streamed through the blinds in your small lab space, casting a warm glow on the half-finished projects and scattered blueprints. You were leaning against your workbench, idly tinkering with a new prototype in an attempt to distract yourself from the fluttery feeling in your stomach. Trevor was coming over. Again.

It had been going on for a few weeks now—these late nights and “casual” visits, the flirtation that had sparked during your first "hangout" quickly escalating to something much closer, much more... well, complicated.

Every time he came by, there’d be laughter, teasing, and at some point, you’d find yourself tangled up with him on the couch moaning his name. But despite all the incredible chemistry, all the shared inside jokes and fleeting glances, he was still just your friend with benefits. A technicality. Yet, somewhere along the way, your heart had decided to ignore that little detail.

Your stomach knotted as you fiddled with your latest project, trying to ignore the longing you felt for something more with him. After all, how could you be sure he felt the same? What if, to him, it was just a convenient setup? The thought made your chest tighten, and you found yourself wishing he’d just get here so you could stop overthinking.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the lab door. You took a deep breath, putting on your most casual expression as you opened it to see Trevor standing there, his lopsided grin already making you feel a little dizzy. He looked slightly disheveled, as usual, with that ever-present, endearing awkward charm.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, his eyes lighting up as he stepped inside.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, letting the door close behind him. “Decided to grace my lab with your presence again?”

“What can I say? Your lab’s starting to feel like my second home.” He flashed you a grin, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than usual.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he dropped his bag by the door and crossed the room, his arms finding their way around your waist with the ease of familiarity. His closeness was exhilarating and comforting all at once, and you knew you could spend every day with him like this.

After a few moments of silence, he pulled back, grinning. “So, what’s on the agenda today? Something techy? Or...?”

You shrugged, trying to keep it light. “I was just finishing up a little ghost trap upgrade. But I’m more interested in what you’re here for.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice dropping as he leaned down and closer, lips grazing your neck in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a comfortable haze, your hands and lips finding each other in moments stolen between laughter and whispered words. You forgot about your worries when he finally pushed himself inside you, letting yourself get swept up in him, in the warmth and joy that he brought so effortlessly into your world.

It was later, when you were lying together in the quiet afterglow, your head resting on his bare chest as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your naked back, that the gnawing ache in your heart resurfaced. You wanted to stay like this forever, but the truth loomed over you like a shadow—you wanted more than this, and every second that passed only made that want stronger.

Trevor, seemingly sensing your shift in mood, tilted his head to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay? Did I hurt you?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking. “Trevor, I... I need to talk to you about something.”

His face shifted to a look of curiosity, and maybe a hint of nervousness, as he nodded. “Of course. What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat up and turned to face him, your hands twisting together as you tried to gather your thoughts. “This... this thing between us. It’s been... amazing. Really. But, um...” You hesitated, feeling a pang of vulnerability. “I just—Trevor, I want something more. I don’t want this to just be... casual anymore.”

For a second, the words hung in the air, and your heart thudded anxiously as you searched his face for any sign of disappointment or hesitation. But instead, his eyes softened, and a slow, almost relieved smile crept across his face.

“You mean... you want us to be official?” he asked, his tone tentative yet hopeful.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you nodded, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “I really like you, Trevor. More than just... this. And I was kind of hoping that maybe... maybe you felt the same.”

Trevor’s face broke into a full, genuine grin, and he let out a quiet laugh, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to be with you since that first time you gave me your number. I was just... well, you’re kind of amazing, and I wasn’t sure you’d want...”

He trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked away. “I mean, I just thought I’d take what I could get, y’know?”

You laughed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Trevor Spengler, you’re ridiculous. Of course I want you. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

He let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing, nervous way of his. “So, does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him. “Yes, Trevor. That’s exactly what it means.”

His face lit up, and he leaned in to kiss you, his touch filled with a warmth and sincerity that made your heart race. This time, it felt different—more meaningful, more certain. Like you’d finally found the place you were meant to be.

When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, a playful glint in his gaze. “You know, I’m actually glad you said something. I was about to confess my undying love for you any day now.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, grinning as you poked him in the chest. “Undying love already, huh?”

He laughed, pulling you back into his arms. “Hey, when you know, you know.”

For the rest of the evening, the two of you stayed tangled together, talking, laughing, and stealing kisses, finally feeling like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[doodle-pops]

Marriage To Celebrimbor Would Include. . .

Request: Hi, can I request a marriage to Celebrimbor headcanon? He's my absolute favorite and I'd love to see you write for him - Anon

A/N: Some lovely headcanons for your hunky Feanorian coming right up :)

𑁍 Marriage to Celebrimbor isn’t anything different from dating him. The only difference is that his mind has already solidified your reason for being with him and his insecurities have diminished.

𑁍 He is much more affectionate with you now that he doesn’t have to worry about scaring you like during courting days. Every action has a deeper meaning and feels to it.

𑁍 Physically, he’s still careful with trying not to crush you under his weight, but he enjoys the feeling of being bonded to you — which makes every moment more special than before.

𑁍 He loves all the intimate moments shared with you. Be it kisses that escalate into something more or cuddling.

𑁍 Celebrimbor has developed an affinity for loving when you visit him late in the forges at night, or when no one’s around. The little risks you two take give you both good laughter.

𑁍 Emotionally, he has opened up to you more than ever; he would have sat you down and had a long discussion before the wedding.

𑁍 You don’t have to worry about him being afraid of opening up about his past or talking about them should an event surrounding it pops up. This is also shown in his ability to converse openly with you without flinching or wanting to divert the topic when it drifts to family.

𑁍 Spoiling you is a greater joy and comfort to Tyelpë now that you are married. He knows your interests like the back of his hand, hence the reason why presents are always being gifted.

𑁍 If anything, he crafts more items for you than ever and gets you everything and anything you could ever desire. From the finest materials for clothes, jewellery, stationaries, you name it.

𑁍 He also loves to spend quiet moments sitting by the fireplace, sharing a glass of wine and a good laugh. There are times he would engage in a little dancing, reminiscing on your first dance.

𑁍 Other times he'll ensure he has breakfast and lunch with you or dinner. At least two out of the three so you don't feel neglected.

𑁍 His forms of expressing his love to you at that state are well-developed and he can express himself verbally more. He still uses his father as a blueprint to not mess things up for situations such as a dispute.

𑁍 His protectiveness goes up the extra notch now that you are both wedded. Thus, the slightest discomfort in your bond, he’s sending his guards to find you and then he comes strolling in after with the most worried look ever.

𑁍 As you are both wedded, he loves to spend the mornings lazily wrapped up in the sheets, still in a haze, and tracing each other’s scars or skin. Lazily planting kisses here and there.

𑁍 His lazily kisses always lead to having your bodies tangled in the sheets. Not that he's complaining. He adores being intimate with you.

𑁍 He attempts to suppress his urge of wanting you now that he has gotten a taste of what intimacy is like. Not wanting to come off as desperate for your touch and craving you.

𑁍 Sometimes when he hasn't any work or duties, he'll still wake up early and await your lively state. Have some breakfast with you and chat a bit before tugging you back in bed for a little morning session.

𑁍 It brings him the utmost sense of comfort and security. It causes him to sometimes force himself out of bed because he doesn’t want to leave your arms.

𑁍 Since he’s learning to be verbally expressive, he never fails to remind you how grateful and appreciative he is for having you in his life every day.

𑁍 Talks of having children would be the last conversation the two of you would have because there is still a slight bit of hesitancy. He adores the idea of having little ones since elves do love children and so does he.

𑁍 If you manage to convince him to have one and he grows to be understanding and welcoming to the idea, Tyelpë would be a great father to his child/children.

𑁍 However, whether or not you start a family with him, your married life will be filled with ultimate bliss and contentment. Aspiring to your needs and wants, and in return reciprocating, Celebrimbor would be proud to have you as his spouse and in his life.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justjane @justellie17

[spotsupstuff]

fuckin' around a lil bit with that idea of a more personified structure i've mentioned who knows how long ago now in some tags. i just.. adore the hit that is the sheer size of the Iterators when taken at whole so much... it terrifies me to my bones

inspired/motivated by a post by tanzdoesthings where they pointed at a puppet n said that is the Iterator's face. shit lit an actual lightbulb over my head...

unrelated to the art drabble underneath the cut

"I love you. Can this be understood?"

'No,' she sighs while she thinks... Just where can one begin to understand such a thing? An organic's brain isn't made for the comprehension of it, she's sure.

That every time pipes groan it is his veins stretching. Or that when she floats in his heart, the sound of its beats is strong enough to penetrate straight through her. Dammit, she has to wear a special suit just so her bones wouldn't shatter from a singular beat.

How can she properly grasp it, that he breathes only once a day- and just that is enough to rain destruction upon everything within his retaining walls. That he carries a whole city on his back- so small... almost unnoticed... Or that when she hides away in the shelters at his bases, it is akin to crawling underneath his skin?

It makes no sense for something that terrifyingly giant to exist. To live. Oh, why does it have to live just the same as her...?

Each component she understands. His blueprints are framed in the Mechanic's little house positioned near one of his more discreet entrances. The biggest blueprint takes up a whole wall, little notes made by her or the previous Mechanic scattered all over the detailings of his body.

Her fingertips trace over the white lines on the blue paper before bed, planning out a route for tomorrow- because oh it would take years to travel him whole unguided. One could so easily get lost within the mechanical organs, tangled in wires, strangled by accident in the tons upon tons of tightly knit cords- left as a corpse without a chance to be found in the less travelled recesses of him.

Palm in palm, she presses her hands against each other in hopeful prayer and in the anxiety the thought brings forward.

So small... so finite compared to him.

Sometimes when people want to disappear for a while from the little city- little? It holds thousands upon thousands of life like me- including her, they wander the dusty metal desert that makes up his backside. All the way to the edge of him, edge of the world that he represents- is... And then just stare over the clouds.

The more daring ones, more agile and capable, climb down a little ways- finding crannies in his skin that he'll never notice for purchase.

One time- while feeling terribly lonely and sad- she climbed as low as she dared. Just above the clouds. Some almost licked at her feet as they rolled around him- submitting to his presence like waves to boats. The clouds turned grey, his sirens blared below and she was scared. Not for herself, but for the childhood she spent living beneath him- for family still stuck there.

And she'd hide away in a crook in his panels- a fault she will once have to fix- tearing at the moss that somehow managed to make livelihood here. Waiting... for nothing.

Then he looked to her, red Overseer popping out of nowhere. The uncomprehensible, godly by its sheer size thing giving her maybe all of his attention. And she feels guilty, worming around his skin- hiding in it- like this.

Though he tells her: rather apologize for disappearing like that, for not answering the hails. As if the violation of his physique wasn't actually anything... It had been so weird, having him fuss over her like so. There's better things a fake god like him has to do.

'I love you. Can this be understood?' still stares at her from her watch, unanswered.

"I don't think it can...," she writes him, feeling sad, confused, intimidated.

"Oh..."

She rushes to reassure him. "I love you back anyway though. Don't worry, weirdo"

[shmowder]

It's aro Daniil anon again :) I hope your weekend was good! I am here with a request that is not specifically aro (but could be)-- I'd love to see something with the reader trying to comfort Daniil postgame after the Polyhedron falls and he's stuck in the Town?

Thank you. Writing this was therapeutic. I wish I could've offered more, but that's all I had today. I hope you like it <3 And I'm glad to see you here again.

Mors Tua, Vita Mea

[ slight angst, comfort, hugging, can be romantic or platonic]

[Daniil Dankovsky x gn reader]

"They threw me here hoping that I'll never return, didn't they?" There's a quiver to his lips, frail sentences spoken with fragile tones. “I never had a chance to begin with, how naive I was to think…”

The same bachelor stood before you, the one who held ultimate authority over the town a week and a couple of days ago. passion-born speeches about the importance of figuring out the truth, doing everything he can since day one, going by the book and applying all that he has learnt in his long years of battling with death in this one showdown, truly exhausting the cards he has been dealt until nothing but desperate clenching fists remained.

Gazing at the river ahead, the beautiful view of cloudy skies and the thriving greenery of the steppe at the far back only dig deeper into the fresh open wound–be it yours or the earth's below–the now empty space where the polyhedron used to be is slowly fizzing out of your memory.

Not Daniil's, however, he's still tracing the invisible stairs with his eyes, counting the steps from what he could recall, every turn and twist, every blueprint etched into the wooden panels.

His face is soft. Ever since you've met him, it's the softest expression you've witnessed him wear. Or was it simply the mask that slipped down?

The raindrops hitting the top of your umbrella are reminiscent of a certian melody, nostalgic in nature, you feel like you've heard it before, as if you've stood witness here before, enough times to memorise the sound of rain's pattern on this exact same day.

He was drenched when you first found him, the bachelor of medicine, it must have been the rain which washed away the know-it-all facade he clung to like a security blanket at times.

For now, he's dried up a bit after you shielded him under your own umbrella. Standing in silence, he tried to give you an acknowledgement smile out of politeness, but the corners of his lips weighed down heavier than he could manage to lift them.

There are no winds to howl, no showering rain to taunt, no fireworks of celebration to mock. The apathy of the universe to stand indifferent to the suffering of those who were, of those who are, of those who will be.

“My life's work snuffed out from behind my back while I was none the wiser, working day and night to save this damned ungrateful town.” His gloved hand reaches to hold the handle of the umbrella just below yours, “They tore the research papers, burned the tissue samples, and destroyed the building whole. Thanatica is no more, and so is hope.”

What remained was a shell of a broken man, a hollow consolation trophy for humanity's failed attempt to outsmart death.

A reminder to mankind to remember your place. Or be dragged back into it, kicking, screaming, and beaten down.

You could tell him it's not the end; weave the most beautiful lie from the spindle of half-truths.

List every phrase and condolences messages you could remember, the same ones adults cooed your way when you were a mere child after your dog died, or the dismissing ones you received from teachers in the seventh grade fair when you came second place, or maybe the many unnervingly polite rejection letters delivered to your door by employers who happened to just find someone who fit better.

You could.

And so could he take the que and fix his mask back on, adhere to society's expectations of someone of his status.

He could.

You'll pull the trigger, and he'll follow along.

But you're, too, unbelievably tired of this prolonged song and dance the head ruling families in this town are obsessed with. The exhausting lies, the concealed truths, and the never-ending self-serving hidden motives behind every single word.

Letting go of the umbrella so he may continue to carry it instead, you move closer to him, holding his arm in your own.

“I know.” You whisper against his shoulder. You don't. How could you possibly understand? Do you even comprehend the meaning of his entire life purpose being swept aside, of being sent to his own death by his own legs, the most humiliating parade of failure for all of those who wished him harm to see.

Daniil pulls away.

Your heart sinks.

The deafening sound of rain pouring rings in your ears.

A single step, then another, and he's completely facing you with his back to the polyhedron. You get a good look at his glossy eyes, his damp hair, the crooked brooch on his cravat.

Then he pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly as if you were his last lifeline. You're pressed to his chest, hidden under his coat as if he could hide you from being stolen away by death's claws if he just kept you there.

You don't have to understand to sympathise.

“I don't know what to do… where to go.” The two of you fit snugly under the umbrella with how close you're pressed to one another, you feel his heartbeat and he listens to yours.

He has lost the fight and lost his way. Dreams unravelled, not a single star left to guide him through the ocean he's aimlessly drifting in.

You hug him back, run your fingers through the wet strands of his hair in an attempt to soothe his heavy heart. “Away from this town for a start.”

That gets an unexpected laugh out of him, bittersweet and extremely short, more like an amused huff of air, to be precise. “Yes… far away.”

Yet he lingers in your embrace, and you don't make a move to pull away first. You let him collect his thoughts, wallow in his own sadness while you anchor him in reality.

Staring up ahead at the remains of the crumbled down structure, you wonder what it must have looked like as it fell down. You weren't there to see. You merely heard the sounds of the canons from across town. Broken symphonies, more likely, the doom weapons of humanity used to destroy the miracles of its creation.

The army didn't let anyone near until all the blood was collected. You wonder if the ground really did open up and bleed or was it a metaphorical statement.

No matter how hard you try, you can't spot a single spec of red on the spotless streets upfront. The rain must have washed it away, too. A cleansing shower for the entire town.

Yet the world does not feel anew.

Sinking into the warmth of Daniil's coat, you close your eyes.

No, it feels incredibly old, tiring, same story, different perspective.

You hoped to leave this town a better place than when you first found it, both of you tried really hard.

It seems like you've overestimated your abilities. How did Daniil put it again? Oh yeah, it was like spitting on a tower of flames, expecting, somehow, to put it out.

This place reeked of death.

Welcoming, ridiculing, taunting death. Hanging a carrot onto a stick and pulling the two of you along like fools.

The only way to win a game this rigged is to refuse to play.

You wonder if things could've been different, if in another lifetime the two of you are standing triumphant atop the tower, the jewel of humanity safe and sound.

This parasite of a town set ablaze instead.

No use dreaming of what could haves and what ifs.

A soothing breeze caresses your cheek, your eyes flutter open to the world ahead brighter with the clouds having dispersed. The pause between each rain droplet falling down grows more and more further apart.

Daniil closes the umbrella, and the sunrays fall upon the two of you like a warm blanket. He pulls away, offering his arm instead for you to hold.

“I need a drink. Would you care to keep me company?”

With a nod, you accept it.

A delicate smile graces his lips.

You'll build it, all that was destroyed, you'll salvage the fallen pieces and build it back together from the ground. Thanatica might be no more, but as long as death exists, so will hope in turn.

Humanity went through many hardships, backtracked on its own steps, and regressed before. Wings of wax gave way to prototypes of flying vehicles, and one day, they will conquer flight and manage to stay upright in the sky.

Who knows, maybe one day even the moon will be within reach.

As long as there is someone to die, the fight against death will remain alive.

Two ships sailing side by side in the aftermath of the storm, aligning their destinies, strings of fates intertwining, walking each other home.

He holds you tight.

And you keep him warm.

[thefastestelementalmasteralive]

Red madder archer! What I decided to go down instead of jay joining the fold.

"Hey Jay?" Lloyd Garmadon, the former brat having calmed down since both his dad and Kai have been co-parenting him.

"Yeah." The blue ninja responds from his desk, looking over his pile of blueprints.

"You know that thumb drive virus you have that would shut down zane when plugged in?" Lloyd asks casually as walks a few feet in the room, looking briefly over at a blueprint that caught his eye before focusing back on jay. Jay, having turned around to look at Lloyd suspiciously.

"Yes...? If you're going to prank zane again, I'm going to need to hear the plan for the prank. I do not want to be chewed out by your uncle again." Jay says sternly. It was about a year ago, the last time Jay had let Lloyd use it. Lloyd had used the opportunity to dye Zanes hair, it would wash out in one shower, red. It was surprisingly a very thorough job. But the drive had gotten traced back to Jay and Jay had gotten chewed out for it. 'What if lloyd had done something worse? He's a ten year old boy, what would have happened if it was permanent?'

"Oh.. yeah, I just wanted to know if it could work on Pixal.. and if I could borrow it to knock her out for a couple of hours. Her initiation prank, you know?" Lloyd says nervously, and faster than normal.

Jay blows out the air in his lungs. "Just to make her loose a few hours."

Lloyd nods. "I swear I won't touch her after the drive is in, until it's time to take it out."

Jay grits his teeth in thought before removing his blueprints from his desk and searching his desk for the thumb drive. "It should work. I've been updating it." Jay mumbles before finding it. He turns to Lloyd takes Lloyd's hand and places the thumb drive into Lloyd's right palm. "I'm trusting you because Kai trusts you, and Pixal is his friend even if it's via proxy because of zane. Alright? Don't hurt her." He trys to say as clearly and intensely as possible.

Lloyd nods. "Thanks, Jay." Lloyd tries to walk off as discreetly as possible but ends up sprinting out of the room.

Jay sucks in a breath and exhales again before turning back to his blueprints. "I'm gonna get in so much trouble." He mumbles.

--

"There she is!" The smaller figure, dressed in a darker color mumbles.

The taller, who is in a very light color despite wanting to fit in with the shadows, pulls out a tube and a thumb drive and starts fumbling around with it.

The darker figure glares, waiting at the man dressed in lighter colors before pulling the objects out of his hands and slotting the drive into the tube, loading it in like a blowdart, putting the tube to his mouth, and taking aim for a mere second. He blows out hard and fast. He hits his mark.

At the lighter clothed man's gaping expression, the Darker tugs on the other's arm. "C'mon! We need to get her and get back now!"

---

P.I.X.A.L. had gotten a text to meet Zane at a small food stand close to a local park. Her schedule was cleared, and if it wasn't she pushed anything and everything back to make room for this, it felt urgent, so she agreed and headed to the park, only for her vision to glitch out for a moment or two before her vision cleared up... and she was looking at a ceiling and wall, not at the sky or a building. She's on a gurney- Zane comes into her field of view with a smaller blonde boy at his side. The boy is wearing a dark tyrian purple hoodie. "I know this is odd," Zane starts, He seems nervous or scared, holding a thumb drive in his hand. "And I'm sorry for it, but Pixal, please save my friend." The nindroid and boy move to the side, revealing a local vigilante, dressed in Madder red mainly, unconscious on a gurney, a few yards away. P.I.X.A.L. can feel her face moving into one of surprise. Before she leaps off the gurney into work mode.

[whoficky]

Until Morning

Rating: Mature (I think?) Maybe explicit? Definitely NSFW.

Pairing: 10th Doctor X Rose Tyler

Work Summary: In a burst of blue light, a dimension hopping Rose Tyler finally finds a world weary Doctor as he's about to go up against the Master. But time is not on their side, and this reunion can't be the forever they've longed for. If all they have is one night together, they are determined to make it count.

Chapter summary: He wanted nothing more than to stay like this, still and peaceful at her side.  But he knew he couldn’t.  Not only was dawn approaching, but he could hear the rustling of someone stirring downstairs.  He had things he needed to do to prepare for what was to come, things to discuss with Martha and Jack. 

Chapter 8

Rose let her hands and mind wander as she lay curled up with the Doctor under his tan coat.  He’d pulled it over both of them before the sweat that slicked their bodies could cool and cause a chill.

“What are you thinking?” he asked in a soft, gravely voice.

Rose hummed, “Mmmmm.  Nothing...Everything.”  She opened her hooded eyes to meet his.  “Still just sort of…”

“Yeah,” he agreed on a happy sigh.  He brushed his fingers up and down her arm, sending waves of pleasant tingles through her hyper-sensitized body. 

“That was ‘mazing,” she said, “Feelin’ you everywhere - inside, in my head…didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Was that ok?” the Doctor asked, brows pinching slightly in concern, “The telepathy?  I’m sorry I should have mentioned before I might -”

She cut him off with a soft, lingering kiss.  “Was brilliant,” she assured him, “Doctor, there aren’t words.  Is that - was that how your people...”

“Sometimes,” he nodded, then tilted his head, “Er…occasionally.  Well, rarely, to be honest.  Connecting like that, it enhances everything.”

“Mmmm, I noticed,” she purred and stretched against him, relishing the feel of the soft hair of his legs sliding against her smooth ones.

“But it’s also quite intimate, quite revealing.”

“Noticed that too,” her smile went from sultry to something much softer when his eyes dipped down in uncharacteristic shyness.  

“Yes, well.  It was considered a bit, er, deviant,” he admitted.

“Their loss,” she said, sad for what his people had missed out on.  And a just little mournful of what they had been missing out on all this time. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, leaning forward to coax her into a deep kiss that had her thinking that ‘next time’ may need to be very, very soon.

“How am ever going to let you go, Rose Tyler?” he asked with a sad smile, cooling her arousal slightly, but only increasing her feelings of intimacy with him.  

Temping as it was, she wouldn’t use this moment to beg him once again to let her stay.  Not when he was so vulnerable.  And not when she knew she really did have to go.      

“You don’t have to just yet,” she whispered instead, tracing a line down his sideburn before running her fingers through his damp hair.  He closed his eyes and made a sound of contentment deep in his throat.  “And you’ll be ok.  When the time comes.”  She was sure of that now.  Had seen it inside his mind.  If there was one thing her Time Lord excelled at, it was persevering.  

He made a noncommittal sound and drew her close against him.  For a while they just held each other in the easy silence.  Her hand rubbed long, sleepy strokes up and down the length of his back as he played with her hair.

“Doctor,” she said eventually.

“Hmmm?” he hummed.

“I didn’t mention before, but on that memory drive I gave you…”

“Yeah?” he prompted.

“’S not all just doom and gloom and the stars going out.  There’s…there’s photos, some recordings from me, letters I’ve been writing you, and, um, all the blueprints and data for the dimension cannon.”

He pulled back slightly and propped himself up on an elbow, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she grinned up at him, “So I figure…maybe you can find me next time.  Big brain like yours with help from the TARDIS once you get her back…could probably improve upon what we’ve come up with.  Those walls between universes aren’t as solid as the last time you checked.  Me bein’ here is proof of that, yeah?  And I’ll keep it up on my end.  I’ll still be out there lookin’ for you too.  I reckon with all that…Well, I think I’ll be seeing you again soon, Doctor.”

“Rose Tyler, are you deducing,” he asked with a softer version of the same look on his face that had nearly made her jump his bones years ago.

“I think I am,” she grinned.

“Copper’s hunch?”

“Better,” she kissed him, long and deep and full of hope.  “A promise,” she whispered against his lips.

With a laugh of pure joy, he clutched her hips and rolled them until he was braced on top of her.  The feel of him stirring against her belly started to fan the heat that had never fully faded as they’d talked.

“I believe I made a promise too, Rose Tyler,” he growled.

“Oh yeah, what’s that,” she ran her hands up and down his sides, feeling his muscles ripple underneath the pads of her fingers.

“I believe I said next time,” he started scooting down her body, “we’d take it slow.  Very,” he kissed her chest, “very,” licked a circle around her navel, “slow,” he puffed, hovering just over her center.

“Oh god,” she whimpered.

**********

The Doctor cataloged each one of Rose Tyler’s breaths and drank in every precious murmur and movement she made in her sleep.  Rassilon, she was beautiful.  Gazing at her now, she took his breath away.  When he missed her, when things got hard and despair beckoned, he would think back on this moment, remember how the moonlight played across the bare skin of her back and the way her dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamed.  

Oh, he loved her. 

And he’d finally gotten the chance to tell her.  It had come whispered from his lips into her heated skin, was poured into each tender touch as he’d mapped her body, and projected into her very soul while they’d shared one mind.  He’d left no room for doubt about how he felt about her.  It was sealed into her very essence.  As it had been seared into his for a long time now.  

After they’d fallen back into their nest of jackets utterly spent, they’d gently cleaned each other and he’d coaxed her into a reluctant sleep.  Despite her protestations, it hadn’t taken her long to drift off.  He knew she was exhausted.  

He wanted nothing more than to stay like this, still and peaceful at her side.  But he knew he couldn’t.  Not only was dawn approaching, but he could hear the rustling of someone stirring downstairs.  He had things he needed to do to prepare for what was to come, things to discuss with Martha and Jack.  As he’d basked in the utter contentment of holding a sleeping Rose Tyler, a plan had begin to coalesce.  It was time to start setting it in motion.  

Reluctantly, he eased out from under his tan coat and tugged it up over her shoulders.  She was so deep in sleep, she didn’t rouse at all.

“I’ll be back,” he promised before tracking down his clothes and putting each layer of armor back in place.  Before he left the room, he took a moment to take the memory drive out of his pocket and stared down at it with a small smile.  

 The Doctor strode on to the factory floor, hands in his pockets, aiming for the perfect picture of Time Lord aloofness.  Still, Jack gave the Doctor a filthy smirk over the top of the laptop he’d been working on.  

“Soooo,” he grinned devilishly, “have a nice…walk?”

“Yes, lovely night for a walk,” the Doctor replied easily, rocking on his heels.

Jack snorted, “You aren’t fooling anyone with that bullshit, Doctor.  I’ve never seen someone look so thoroughly shagged before.”

Though preening internally at the completely accurate description, the Doctor leveled a glare at his friend for a moment before he began emptying his pockets and spreading the bits and bobs out on a small metal table.      

“C’mon,” Jack wheedled, closing the laptop and walking over to join the Doctor, “You can’t tell me that you just spent half the night talking.  When the two of you left, you were practically vibrating with tension.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Doctor continued to concentrate on sorting through components.

“Oh Doc, please.  You weren’t exactly quiet.”

That made him look up sharply.

“I was about to go up there and investigate.  Thought you two were being attacked,” Jack snickered.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Doctor sniffed.  But then he couldn’t quite help quirking a small brief smile.

“I knew it!” Jack crowed.  He slapped the Doctor on the back, “Bout freaking time!  Happy for the two of you, truly.  And don’t worry, I lied.  Didn’t hear a thing.  More’s the shame.”

“Remind me to drop you into a supernova when I get the TARDIS back,” the Doctor growled.  Not that he could work up a true sense of irritation right now with his skin still buzzing and his hearts so full.  Still, there was work to be done.  “If you are quite finished, Captain, I thought we could discuss how we are going to prevent the Master from bringing about the end of the world.”

“Got some of that post orgasm insight, I see,” Jack nodded sagely, “The birth of all great plans and discoveries.  Whattaya got, Doc?”

Ignoring the first part, the Doctor explained the rough outline of his plan and the two of them worked on hacking further into the Master’s communications.  He was encouraged by what they found.  The Archangel network - he’d guessed there was some kind of large scale hypnotism involved, and this confirmed it.  Thank Rassilon the Master was such an arrogant sod.  It would never occur to him that the basis for his whole rise to power was ripe for exploitation.    

The Doctor started working on perception filters while Jack and he debated the merits of skipping the airport and heading straight to the Valiant to give them more time to snoop around.  When Martha joined them a while later, looking worn, but determined, he let her in on the plan.

“I want you both to know you can walk away from this,” he said seriously, “Find somewhere to hide and wait it out.  This is my responsibility, not yours, and I know what’s ahead won’t be easy for either of you.”

“You’re mad if you think I’d opt out,” Martha shook her head, jaw clenched in anger and eyes suggesting a bit of hurt too.  He’d had to give her the option though.  What he was asking of her…it was far too much to put on an army, let alone on the shoulders of one lone woman.  “That’s my family he’s got, my whole planet he’s trying to control.  No, Doctor.  I’m in this.  I’m all in,” she said firmly.

“Me too,” Jack nodded, “Sounds like a player with immortality might come in handy.”

“You may not be able to stay dead, Jack, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt when he kills you,” the Doctor warned.  He wanted to make sure neither of them went into this without full understanding of who they were up against.

Jack shrugged, “You don’t have to tell me, Doc.  Died plenty of times now, and yeah, it always hurts.  But if he’s busy killing me, that’s one less other person he’ll have the time to torment.  Maybe I can be a good distraction.”

The Doctor nodded, humbled by the bravery of the both of them.

“Alright, then here’s what’s going to happen…” he dove into the specifics of each of their roles.

[noffy96]

My second Sun/Moon fic

A follow-up to my other sun/moon fic. Sun and moon finally get their own separate bodies.

Our first day together Apart .

Word count: 4,905 

Chapter 1/4 (Complete)

Next Chapter

Summary:

A soft laugh came up from somewhere deep inside his voice box. He wondered how much of his thoughts he had spoken out, or maybe just thought loud enough for his counterpart to hear. It didn’t matter. He was here.

“M-morning…sunshine”

The warmth around him shifted slightly like Sun had pulled back.

“Oh…Moonbeam”

He could hear the worry laced into the voice in his mind. He tried to send something reassuring back, but it felt disingenuous. Seemed he fell apart at the end anyway. He had wanted to be strong enough for both of them

Or

Sun and Moon finally get their new bodies, and this is how they spend those first few hours together

--link here to AO3--

or continue below the read more line

He clutched the plushies closer to his chest. Scanning over the empty room once more. The red lights of his eyes made the chipped yellow paint almost look orange. He had suspected that their last night here would be uncomfortable, now that their whole room was empty. But more than uncomfortable, he was bored. He tried going into rest mode. But it turned out. Doing so standing up was a lot harder than lying down.

They had done it in the past. Before they had made their makeshift bed. Created from all the torn-up pillows and blankets that had been destroyed in the daycare and would get thrown away otherwise. Also, they didn’t have the sentience back then that they do now. Maybe that is part of why it was easier back then. But now all their stuff was in boxes. Off in the hallway connecting to the hidden door in the theatre, ready for them to unpack again after…everything.

He checked their charge. Eighty percent and at least another hour before Sun would wake up. Two hours before they were going down to Parts and Service. For the last time, as the same animatronic.

They knew it was coming for a couple of months, but the exact date, maybe not. But they had been slowly updating their systems to get to this moment. His fans let out a big whirl.

He shook his head, he…they had been thinking about it enough. Sun had worried so much he almost made a permanent groove in their floor with all the pacing back and forth he did. As he tried to keep his hands on his love's shoulders And talk through all his anxieties.

He adjusted the Sun Plush in his arms. Making extra sure it was properly cuddled up to his own plushy. Fingers tracing patterns over both of them for a while. He wondered what that was gonna feel like…hugging Sunny

He had hugged the little stars that had come to the daycare. But hugging a small human would be different than hugging a metal animatronic that was the same height as you. Or at least he hoped they be the same height still.

The early blueprints had at least made it seem that way. But he knew more than anyone that things could get messed up anywhere. As long as they both are okay. He didn’t care what he was gonna look like.

Sun was gonna look amazing though. He was sure of it. Their new techs seemed really excited for them. Talking about new faceplates, sensors, and battery upgrades.

That last one was the reason their room was now empty. The new bodies wouldn’t be able to use their current charging cables. So their room was getting renovated, while they were getting separated.

A lot of things in the Pizzaplex were getting a huge upgrade. Monthly golf was getting a few extra courses. They were adding an extra room to Rockstar Row so that hopefully Bonnie could return when he was finished. Some new signs for several shops. They were even expanding one of the maintenance tunnels so that DJs could get from the west arcade to the main stage and even hold a show there once in a while. And everyone was so happy for the big guy to be able to move around. Even if it was just one room. They were gonna hold a party the first chance they'd get.

But all that renovating meant that the Pizzaplex was gonna be closed for two weeks. And about half of that he and Sun would be out of it as they were getting separated. It was apparently a very delicate world to separate two sentient AIs.

That was not something he was surprised by. But the fact that the new techs took it into account. Was a good sign these new people knew what they were doing. Instead of the crew they had for years, that let them get into a state where he was able to contract a virus at all.

He clenched his fist. Trying to breathe through his emotions. It was because of those people he had lost so much. That he gave into his worst impulses. And amplified his worst fears. He became so terrible to his partner. The one being in the world that understood him.

He shook his head again, the bell of his cap chiming softly. It was fine now. It was because of Sun that they were still around. That he didn’t do anything to any of their little stars. While had managed to contain the virus all to himself so Sun didn’t get hurt. Sun had protected him in return by making sure he wouldn’t ever do something he would never forgive himself for.

He squeezed the Sun's doll's hand. He loved his partner so much, and he was excited to finally be able to tell that to his face.

As nervous as he was that this was happening, he was just as excited. Finally after all this time. He would be able to see Sun. Actually, see him. Looking at him through the mirror was great. But it wasn’t the same.

He couldn’t see it if he flustered Sun and caused his rays to spin. He could feel it. But not see. Unless they were in front of a mirror. And even then, it probably looked different. He doesn’t know what Sun looks like, doubled over in laughter because of a stupid pun he said at the perfect time. Or how he looks when he is trying to calm a kid down. Or does silly dances to make them feel better. He did feel the warmth spread through their chest. The little tingling of sensations of the rays swaying. The way Sun’s AI just beamed with pride and love. But he couldn’t see it.

Now that he thought about it, he thinks that was something he was gonna miss the most. The way he was able to feel Sun’s emotions. The warmth, the security. The love. Just everything. Always there, never far away.

He’d be on his own again. No Sun in his head to reassure him he wasn’t losing his mind again. No more that constant feeling of that warm buzz whenever Sun laughed in their headspace. That the moment he could spiral, Sun was just a breath away. That if Sun was in danger. His protocols would activate and he would be able to protect him and the little stars in their care.

It would be a whole new thing to worry about. He would do his best. He could only do his best. He wasn’t gonna give fazzbear any reason to scrap them. They have gotten too close. No matter what the new staff said, he couldn’t help but feel there would still be people around at the top. Trying to wash away what happened.

And the moment they get out of line. They'll be reduced to nothing. Turned off, never to be turned on again. And those thoughts terrified him too deep in his core. So much so that it made several of his motors skip a beat or two He let out another harsh breath and leaned more into the corner he was staying in.

He tried to stop thinking about it. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he started spiraling at this point. Sun would probably be all jittery when he woke up. He would need to be level-headed to talk him down it. So that everything would go as smoothly as possible.

His fans kicked up another notch. He was fine. He was gonna be fine. THEY were gonna be fine. They had been told what would happen. How it would happen. And what to expect when they woke up.

And the new staff hadn’t lied to them so far. All their new upgrades went exactly how they said. And when they encounter a small bug or glitch. They were even listened to. But still. They hadn’t had an upgrade this big. Since they got the security updates and after that…came the virus

He started at his hands, His fingers sharper than Suns. It had taken a while to get used to them. The amount of balloons he accidentally popped in that first week of having them. Or getting stuck in the fabric of their little stars' clothes. It had been. A lot. But he learned he could do so much with them. Even if it had taken time. And it turns out he quite likes the security side of their job. The patrolling at night was nice and relaxing. And even if someone sneaked in.

Well, that was just a fun game of cat and mouse. And it felt good to know he was able to protect everybody. Even if nobody noticed it at the time.

He shook his head. He could partially hear Sunny voice scolding him. It hadn’t been that the glamrocks had hated them or not noticed and appreciated what he had done. They had been told not to interact and disturb his patrol. Stay out of his way.

And during the day. It wasn’t like they could stop doing their job. And Sunny hadn’t been allowed to leave the daycare at all. His hand went to his throat. Even though the shock collar had never gone off. The fact it had been there at all was scary enough. The new workers seemed so shocked when they told them. And the first thing they did was remove it. It helped him trust these new people.

The shock collar had seemed like a warning. Step out of line and it will go off. Sun had been terrified it might have gone off as he broke a rule. He also had been to…once upon a time. Then that virus made him more reckless. He had tried to understand the code that was trying to take control of them. And while he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. He had learned a lot. Finding loopholes in the rules. And just skirting the rules he found silly

It had been fun, testing the limit of what they could do. Going into the arcade after a patrol to play some of the games they never had a chance to. Even if it had made Sun panic inside their head.

He had ignored his panicked rambling, just happy to do something for himself for once. Eventually, when no repercussions came, Sun started cheering him on instead. It might not have been the nicest way to have gone about it. But they hadn’t been that close at the time, even if he could feel himself start to change. Sun had noticed too. The fact that he had, was one of the reasons he had fallen so hard for his solar counterpart as he did.

That and Sun was just objectively cute. He could see no one truly hating his other half. He was a literal ray of sunshine. Unlike himself, while he loved his job taking care of the kids, was in comparison a lot meaner.

And the virus hadn’t helped, whatever good reputation he had had. Almost thrown away by how manic and scary he had started to act. As even the smallest of broken rules could set him off. It had him see actual red. It had crawled into his code and hurt and tried to burst out. It had changed him on some level. He had always been mischievous. But he found it a lot more fun to scare people nowadays. Especially the older kids who thought they were getting too old for the daycare.

Sometimes a good scare seemed to work better, than just sternly telling some kids to behave. Over, and over, and over again.

Would some of their personality change with this update? It shouldn’t as it was just getting a new body. But what if it did? What if by separating them? They would lose the part of themselves that made them love each other.

He shook his head, that was outrageous. Downright impossible. He knew that. And yet. He looked down at the plushies in his arms. The grins on them, that just like their own never-changing faceplates. Where stuck with their one emotion.

Lately, all feelings had gotten so big. And they both lacked room to express themselves. Drivers for sensors that weren't there. Code still evolving as their sentience did. But with this new body, they should be able to now. But they could hate it. Hate it so much that they'll annoy each other to death. Or what if what he found endearing now would become grating?

He never wants to make Sunny feel bad about himself in any way. Too many of the staff and parents already did that. He'd never forgive himself if he became another voice adding to that.

But what if Sun changed?… What if he lost him? Not in the way that Sun wouldn't turn on again. But slowly they'll drift apart again. That Sun realized that what he had felt hadn't been love after all.

It was a miracle Sun still liked him after the virus. The fact that he was loved by his solar counterpart. Was a wonder in and of itself He wouldn't be able to go back to their old relationship. He had longed for Sun. Even trapped as he was. That Sun had been safe. Was reason enough to keep fighting the virus.

He wasn't about to lose it all again. The thought was terrifying him.

“Moony!”

His visual feed sprang back to life.

He had crouched down at some point. Arms wrapped tightly around himself. The plushie's being squeezed into his chest. Nails slightly digging into his upper arms leaving thin withe scratches into the paint.

His voice box was letting out static sounds of simulated breathing. He tried to reset it. Tried to get everything back under control. It felt like his code had screeched to a halt. And yet at the same time was processing twice as fast.

There was a warm sensation across his entire front.

Sun

Sun was hugging him from within their shared mind. Or at least trying to. His chest mostly felt kinda warm, and something was on his back. But he couldn't tell if that were supposed to be Sun's hands or arms.

Projecting sensations was awkward and weird. But Sun was there. Trying his hardest to send the sensations across. He wondered how long Sun had been awake. How many times had he called to him, and he just didn’t hear it? Just too lost inside his own head

He couldn't see anything. He was just staring across their blank room. His red eyes lit the place. As he slowly realized Sun had switched to murmuring sweet reassures in their mind. He tilted his head slightly as he let that warm voice coax over him.

“I’ve got you okay, Moonlight. We are gonna be okay. We'll be together every step of the way. You will not lose me”

A soft laugh came up from somewhere deep inside his voice box. He wondered how much of his thoughts he had spoken out, or maybe just thought loud enough for his counterpart to hear. It didn’t matter. He was here.

“M-morning…sunshine”

The warmth around him shifted slightly like Sun had pulled back.

“Oh…Moonbeam”

He could hear the worry laced into the voice in his mind. He tried to send something reassuring back, but it felt disingenuous. Seemed he fell apart at the end anyway. He had wanted to be strong enough for both of them

But look at him. He was still jittering all over from his own induced spiral. He shut down his eyes. Trying to reset everything back into working order. But he was interrupted as he felt warm fluttering sensations all over the top of his faceplate.

Sun was leaving fleeting kisses. His own arms reached up as If to hold him. Only encountering air.

Sun wasn't there he knew. He had seen Sun do this so many times. He never had himself. And if felt crushing. To long for that comforting touch and not able to fully feel it.

Did Sun feel this every time he spiraled? How did he deal with that crushing longing? His nails dug further into his arm where he was holding it. Just trying to feel that phantom sensation realized.

“Hey…No...No…Moonie. It is okay. Don't damage your pretty casing. It’s gonna be alright. We'll be together the whole time. Just like you've been telling me. “

Sun was probably trying to hold him tighter. Instead. It just kinda felt like he was pressed more around him. And it made another glitched laugh come from his voice box. With his software still all scrambled, and hearing Sun’s worried voice. He spoke something he had wanted to say for a while but didn’t dare cause he didn’t want to worry Sun further.

“I’m scared….I am so fucking scared Sun”

He heard Sun softly gasp in his mind. Yet that surrounding heat didn't pull away. It seemed to only increase. He wondered what it would feel like. He would likely be squeezed to death. It would be kind of nice honestly.

“Moon…”

It sounded so heartbroken. It made him shiver. The metal of their exoskeleton slides together. Making a harsh sound as it ground together. The next words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission

“I can't lose you again”

He whispered. And there was a terrible shameful feeling crawling all over him. He was supposed to be the stronger one. He had been holding Sun through every part of this. Even as his own fears started to build. It would be okay though, cause the promised outcome was something they had both been longing for. They had agreed to this. It just…now that it was here, really happening.

The thought that he could lose the one he loved more than anything. It was making his wires twist. Felt like cables were in all the wrong ports. Because he couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t control a thing. He had to leave his fate in the hands of humans. That could just so easily have lied to them again. Done everything to get them to comply.

It was funny. Normally Sun was the one that would worry themselves sick. Thinking of the worst outcomes. And when those had solutions somehow came up with ten more. He had talked with him about every single one. Why this was a good idea. Why he could trust the new people? Everything.

Yet now all that logic had flow out the window. The only thought that ran through his code was that he be all on his own again. Something trying to hurt him, something trying to hurt Sun.

They’d promise each other they would never let that happen again.

And now they were trusting their entire beings over to some humans, just so they could finally be their own separate bots.

“Moondrop…I….”

Sun's voice sounded staticky, the same way he did as he was upset. and his music box in their chest comes to life, letting out a few awful distorted sounds. The closed thing he could get to a sob.

“My precious Moonlight. I know you're scared….I am too… I am so…f-....fu-…fu-....Oh, come on!”

He let out a small giggle. Sunny trying to get over the profanity filter for his sake was so endearing. Of all the things to almost make the sunny animatronic try and break it. It of course would be to reassure him.

He could almost see the pout on his partner's face. His nails slowly let go of his exoskeleton as he tried to stifle the giggle trying to come up at hearing his partner's adorable frustrated noises. Suddenly such a silly normal thing, in this insane hurricane of emotions.

“Oh hush Moon, it ain't funny. I am trying to be sincere here!”

He laughed a bit louder, the warmth soothing some of the cold fear that had threatened to consume him

“I know Sunshine…Thank you”

He felt something warm at the bottom of his faceplate. Like Sun was trying to make him look up. It surprised him so much that he jolted back into their visual feed. Only to still see their blank walls.

Was Sun trying to cup his face?

“What I was trying to say. Is that's okay to be scared. Of course, you’re scared! They are gonna go into the core of our beings. And mess with it to separate us. It's invasive, weird, and scary. “

Sun stopped for a moment. And he could feel that anxiety that he had felt coming from his partner these last few months. But especially the last week. Just skyrocket before tempering down again.

“But! But…but…we are not alone this time. It's not just you…or just me going in. We'll be together. Every step. And it's not like last time when no one knows what's happening. The Glamrocks are looking out for us as well now! And! And! All their new big upgrades went fine, right? We can do this. Just as long as we are together. We can do anything Even facing the scariest decision of our lives”

He states into the space where his partner is. The fear wasn't gone. No not by a long shot. But it didn't feel like he was suspended outside his code anymore. Like one wrong step could make him fall apart.

“You’re right. You are absolutely right Sunny “

He felt his counterpart fluster slightly at the genuine praise. Slowly his body felt like it was his own again.

“Thank you…”

He felt Sun shake his head

“No need. Happy to be able to help you for once “

He reached up again. To where he assumed Sun's face would be. It still hurt he wasn't actually touching anything. But he didn't care how silly this looked, it made him feel closer to his other half. And that was most important right now

“ You’ve always done that. “

Sun's rays weren't able to spin in his code. But he could feel them wanting to from behind their faceplate where they were hidden in their little housings.

“Kiss me…please.”

He asked desperately, Wanting that sensation. That feeling of closeness. Sun let out an eager sound. And then he felt that warmth that was so familiar against his ever-present smile.

He stared into the space where he thought Sun’s face would be. Thinking of his faceplate pressed right up against his own. The similar design made it so every part of their face would be touching in some odd way.

But it would feel so good. And he would hold onto his partner's faceplate. His rays probably having been retracted slightly to give his hands some room. His own face threatening to spin in place but held there in gentle hands. And the warmth it was given now. He wished he could blush so Sun could see what this was doing to him

He wished he could change his expression and see what the humans liked about sliding lips together. Then the sensation stopped

He leaned forward, before slowly slumping over as he lost control over the body. And it was Sun's time to take control.

“Whoo…oh ow!”

Sun caught their slumping body just in time. But he scrambled as he heard the yelp of pain. Quickly cutting into their visual feed. Trying to see what might have hurt them. Even though he was still quite scrambled from the sudden switch.

He felt the cord unplug from the back of their head. They had been fully charged.

“You okay Sunshine?”

Sun slowly rose up and rubbed the back of his head

“Yeah… just…tugged a little”

He felt Sun stare around the room. Knuckles knocking together. His own anxieties clearly showing. Before bending down and picking up the fallen down plushies.

“Well….it's time to go…isn't it?”

Both of them were still highly strung up. But he gave a nod. Wrapping his code as much as he could around Suns. Trying to tug at all the sensors for touch that he could reach. So Sun would know he was right there.

Sun walked to the door, into the hidden hallway that led to the theatre. There were all the boxes with their stuff, things they thought to keep for when their new room was finished and could decorate again.

Sun walked to the one open box. And gingerly and carefully put the two plushies inside. Stroking both tenderly before closing it. And taping it shut. So hopefully, truly no one would touch their belongings.

Sun's hands rested on the edge of the box. And he was standing still. Not even swaying in place. The distinct lack of bell sounds.

“ Together.. “

He whispered to Sun. Holding on tighter.

“Together still”

Sun whispered with a nod.

“Forever”.

He promised. And he felt Sun's fluster Happy response as his rays spun. The daycare animatronic slowly made his way out of the daycare to the maintenance tunnels

All the while both of them kept whispering to each other. That they were gonna be fine, they’d gonna be together. And that they loved each other.

So busy with their internal monologue. They were shocked when Sun almost bumped into someone. He shook himself out of their calming mantra. Surprised to see the star of the Plex himself

Freddy

“There you are Sundrop”

He said with a friendly smile as Sun took a step back.

“F-freddy?! “

He noticed something shift behind the big bear and pointed it out to his solar counterpart. Who looked past the big animatronic and see

Everyone

Everyone was here

“What? What are you all doing here?”

Sun asked, surprised

“We here to wish you luck of course!”

Chica chirped happily. And a different kind of warmth filled their entire system. The other three nodded.

“Yeah. It ain't every day. Someone gets this big an upgrade..so we thought it would be nice for you and Moonman to not be alone” Monthly proclaimed proudly and for once he didn’t snort at the silly nickname. For once it felt kinda sweet.

“And besides we gotta make clear to those maintenance people. That they better not mess up one of our friends”

Roxy cracked her knuckles as she said it. Monty agreed with her as Chica started to whisper something about no violence against the workers. Which Roxanne waved off. Freddy came up and took a gentle hold of Sun’s shoulders.

“The two of you are not on your own anymore. We'll help in any way we can. And are excitedly waiting to see the both of you in a week's time”

Sun's rays were spinning widely even though he was not in control. His music box let out a few notes from their chest. He hadn't expected them to show up. He knew they cared now but this. This he had never expected.

“Everyone…I…no we…thank you so much”

Sun finally said happily.

The doors behind the Glamrocks opened. Behind them appeared their familiar regular mechanic who didn't seem surprised to see everyone here

“So…we all ready to go”

Sun froze up. And he himself wasn't much better. Both of them tried to calm each other down in their shared mind. The others seemed to pick up on their frozen state.

“ I think they need a bit of encouragement “

Chica offered. Coming over to them where Freddy was still holding onto Sun's arms

“I think it's time for one last group hug!”

And then threw herself at Sun and Freddy hugging them both

“heck yeah. Good idea”

Mothy bounted closer and warped his strong arms around them and Roxy joined in from the other side.

Sun let out a surprise gasp. He had not yet been in the middle of a cuddle pile unlike he had been that one time after that one fight they had had. He felt the phantom of it now. And wrapped as close to Sun as he could so he would notice everyone.

Sun was shaking. But he could feel it The happiness crawled through all of their wires. Sun deserved to feel this happy more often. And he made a mental note to see if he could get group hugs to happen more for his partner as well. And he also felt Sun saving this memory in their special folder. Where no employee could access it.

After a couple of minutes. Sun was let go by the others. Though he didn't loosen his own hold. He wasn’t gonna let go. He was gonna stay pressed up against Sunny until they were getting shut down. The mechanic was still patiently waiting.

“A-again..t-thank you. Everyone”

Sun turned to the human

“Ready”

They got some last reassurance clasps on the back and followed the human inside. He kept close as Sun was instructed into the giant metal cylinder. Kept a hold of his code as they were strapped in, pulling into the big computer.

The last thing they sent across before they were shut down was.

“I love you Sundrop”

“And I love you Moondrop”

Next Chapter

[ravenkinnie]

abnormal familial relationships my beloved, tenderness in violence my beloved

ao3 link

For a while, Silco considers killing her.

Not the first night, with Powder's scrawny figure bathed in fire, her eyes shining through the layers of grime and the redness of her cheek, her arms wrapped tight around him. The first night he can only think of himself, of blood clouding his vision before everything went dark, the river water burning his lungs, the shivering creature that overcame his own body, sharpened his edges into steel blades. She's a pathetic sight that first night, her fingers gripping his so tight into the morning, but Silco doesn't think about killing her.

Powder turns into Jinx within days and yet, she doesn't let go. She wakes screaming in the night, impossible to ignore or console, the issue only rectified when Silco is torn from his own sleep to find her heaving with tears at the foot of his bed, holding onto his calves so hard he has to curb his instincts to rip her off him. Jinx refuses to leave his side during the day too, fingers twisted into the sleeve of his coat, a shadow two steps behind him. Every conversation is punctured by eyes wandering to the space behind him where Silco's acutely aware of a small presence always following his steps.

It's not a problem, per se. She's a quiet presence, even if her shadow burrows in his mind like a sharp object stuck in his brain matter, but a powerful one. Whole of the Lanes knew Vander’s children, the ones gone now and the one still here, the one letting Silco lay a hand on her shoulder firmly and cowering under his gaze, the smallest touch. Jinx is as much of a symbol, a statement, as the Last Drop is, with the gutted basement and upper floors, with the eye crudely painted on the door - a garish reminder but one Silco allows, for the same reason he allows slim fingers to slip between his own, a gesture catching eyes with no effort on his part. 

She's a symbol but her presence would be as much of a symbol as her absence would, yet Silco’s hand can only hang above the knife snug behind his waistband, can only consider Sevika’s irritated gaze briefly before shaking it off. Because stupidly, Silco keeps hoping.

There's this glimmer in her eyes, the one he saw illuminated by fire that first night, one that dimmed and disappeared as the smouldering wreckage of the cannery burned out and stopped turning the sky fiery orange. He sees it flicker through Jinx’s face sometimes, when she catches the glimpse of weaponry blueprints stamped with the Glasc Industry sigil. It shadows her blue irises when she leans in in Singed’s lab, eyes tracing the odd shapes and outlines of specimens inside jars laid out on shelves lining the walls. But then one of the odd shapes moves, just barely snaps its jaws and Jinx flinches, jumps back, her face falling, her hands shaking as she clasps them together, turns away from the shelves. 

Silco starts considering that perhaps, he might have been mistaken, a mistake born from the night of past laid over the present, throwing shadows of the future in the warped walls of the wrecked cannery. He was weak before, but he's never been dependent, never clung to another falling in their step. The Sump broke off those parts quickly, and if they didn't let go it devoured cruel and fast. Silco never clung to Vander, not in the mines or the Lanes, he never clung to his mother or father, their lives barely converging from the day he could pick up menial work, scramble together money or barter exchanges to help himself survive, to take this burden off their shoulders. Part of it was the Sump, the toil it took to keep yourself alive, let alone another needy being. Part of it, the fact Silco has come to understand with age only, was that his parents never particularly enjoyed having a child around, the fact they probably learned only after he was already wrapped in thin blankets on his mother's chest in the damp freezing shack she nursed him in. 

The thought brings him no bitterness now, the way it did when Silco was still that child, scraping by on scrapes from full Topside tables. He never planned to care for a child either, work so menial and minor with the whole of the Lanes, whole of Zaun to think about. He's not sure if, when that has changed, he's only sure of one thing: Jinx has shaped herself into a presence that cannot be controlled, that he's not sure he can maintain.

Her hair is reaching well below her waist now, untamed and tangled more often than not and everywhere. Silco doesn't particularly pay attention to what the girl does with herself - she's clean, she's clothed, she's eating, she's everything that shows how little she has to scrape by, how minimal scrambling to sustain herself she has to do. 

Except her hair. He picks it off his clothes routinely now, finds long blue single strands on every surface. He brushes it off his desk with disgust, despite it being a rare occasion where Jinx isn't around. Yet, the signs of her that he's somehow not accustomed to still are suffocating either way. Silco almost expects to glance behind his chair and see her scraggly messy self there, wide eyes and apologetic turn of her mouth.

Silco fights the urge under Sevika’s unimpressed gaze. She's sharing those more boldly with each day, his mistake in asking her advice in the off-putting delicate matter of Jinx’s hair, her refusal to sheer it short punctuated by panicked gasps and full body sobs at mere suggestion. She had it braided the first night, Silco’s sure of it, clearly done by someone else judging by Jinx’s guilty expression when he brought it up.

"If you want to play house, have at it. I'm not fucking babysitting," Sevika reiterates her point now, watching blue strands fall to the floor. 

"I'm not playing house," Silco reiterates his, colder than before.

Sevika adjusts her cape falling off the smooth metal arm hidden underneath it; it makes Silco pause before the next sharp remark leaves his mouth. She's not overstepping, he's the one who involved her, and Zaun remembers its debts, he makes sure it does. 

"Use her, leave her, parent her, I don't care. Don't ask me to do it." Her voice is as sour and displeased as ever but then something fractures, softens, a shift that Sevika seems to hesitate on. She waves her hand in his direction before turning away. "Tell her she can cut it or tie it. Give her a choice."

When Jinx steps her foot on the Promenade, hands fiddling with the skirts she's not used to wearing, the hair usually covering her face is pulled back, a small knot almost a bun at the back of her head, the rest of wild strands falling in a brushed-out curtain on her shoulders. Sevika tries not to scoff when she holds the opera door open for her, but Silco sees her reach towards her hair to undo her own when he glances behind his shoulder in the booth anyway.

Jinx looks neat, something he wasn't sure was possible to achieve, her face uncovered, the new clean clothes he got for her for occasions like these not yet ruined by grease stains and random tears. She looks uncomfortable, though, shifting in her seat, picking at the edge of her skirt so much she's pulled strings free leaving the hem frayed. Another reminder of the mistake he might have made seeing himself in her in one moment of weakness.

The Promenade theatre, for all its carved details and velvety curtains, is not much. Walking in, it's easy to forget it's still Zaun but looking closely one can see all the markings of the Fissures: the water damage on the high ceilings leaving dark damp stains in corners, the brass holding the curtains open worn down in places from years of use and lack of maintenance. It's much easier for Silco to see now too, with all the opulence added in recent years contrasting the features he remembers from his youth, the way the velvet has worn down on the floors, but the seats and the curtains are new, the shiny floorboards of the stage where he remembers the rough unpolished wood.

Still, the beacon of the theatre in Silco’s mind will always remain the same as he saw it first back then, as a kid sneaking in through backdoors past technicians and workers and performers stubbing out cigarettes. He must have been Jinx’s age then, keeping to the shadows of the high pillars and heavy curtains, devouring the rare sights of opulence across the bridge. The theatre borders Piltover more than Zaun, a place for pampered polished foreigners visiting to taste the more brutish side of the isthmus but told in high art, the gleam of the fake daggers and clean spots of blood never flowing to the floors, punches that leave no damage, no marks.

Silco envied them then, nursing bruises and cuts and breaks in the shadows of the auditorium, catching the gleam of the real jewels in the low lights, the clean stories of the Undercity that never existed playing out on stage. A painful pang of ache in his chest at the thought, memory, at the long-buried yearning and anger but now, up from the booth always reserved for him only, it's a pain as distant as the stories on the stage were then.

The girl on the stage grasps her heavy skirts, lifts her powdered face to the light and opens her mouth to let her voice unspool in the theatre, travel up to the high ceilings, curling around every pillar, every body in the auditorium in front of her. Silco closes his eyes in the sound, feels his own heartbeat thud to the orchestra below; smaller and more broken down than anything Topside but the theatre stayed open all those years because the stories are bigger, closer to life here than anything Topside ever could be.

He opens his eyes to steal a glance at Jinx, a more hollow jarring pang at the sight of her twisting in her seat, bouncing her foot with boredom she stopped trying to hide on her face, her eyes glazed and wandering the ceilings.

No matter. Silco hasn't brought her here to refine her palate anyway, and Jinx serves her function perfectly: his hand on her shoulder in the atrium afterwards, the curious wary gazes the few fledging barons here tonight steal at her. Spindlaw leans towards her, his interest and respect clear in his eyes, the studious but carefully disinterested gaze of the girl on his arm even more clear.

Silco gestures towards Jinx, pleased. "Jinx, my ward."

He emphasises Jinx, he emphasises my. He doesn’t need to say more for Spindlaw to understand; the man came to power recently but brutally, the blood of the previous head of the house still staining the gutters of his part of the Factorywood. He understands the value of a prize exactly the way Silco needs him to.

Spindlaw reaches towards Jinx, his slim spidery fingers seemingly ready to catch the loose strand of hair falling on Jinx’s face. Jinx is faster than him, faster than Silco, stepping out of his reach and hiding herself behind Silco in one swift move.

The move hangs in the air, the tension broken by a clear laugh of the girl on Spindlaw’s arm, slapping his shoulder with familiarity. "Even the young ones know better than to come with you."

Silco smiles as Spindlaw gives a gruff chuckle, straightens his back to give Silco a curt nod. 

He reaches back, lays his hand flat on the back of Jinx’s neck, underneath the curtain of hair falling down her back. She doesn't tense nor does she try to move out of his reach.

***

Blood drips out of the boy’s lax mouth as he sags against the chair, going limp in his binds. Twinge of annoyance plucks at Silco’s high strung nerves, the stains already impossible to get out of wooden boards on full sight with the rug pulled back.

The boy looks dazed when Silco lifts his chin, his eyes glassy but clearing for just a moment: a glimpse of relief at Silco’s gentle hand, none of the force in his touch that splintered his bones and flooded his throat with blood. He holds the same gaze as Sevika’s blade enters from his back, a momentary recognition sparking up as he chokes on blood, low guttural gargle rumbling in his throat under Silco’s fingers.

Silco drops his face before crimson spittle falls beyond the boy’s lips onto his fingers. He ought to have dealt with this in one of the warehouses by the docks, the ones where the boy has been skimming the Shimmer supply he's been running. But Silco stepping foot anywhere there is a clear threat; an invitation to walk up the narrow staircase to his office on the other hand, is an agreement, a reward even. He likes the turn in their eyes when they realise it’s not either of those this time.

Sevika turns to leave, to grab whoever she hasn't sent off into Lanes to help with clean up. The door barely shuts behind her when he hears it: the creak from somewhere up in the rafters.

He waits until Sevika’s steps disappear down the hall. "Jinx. Down."

He doesn’t turn until he hears the loud thud of her body hitting the desk behind him. Turning to face her, he expects disgust, fear maybe, a queasy uneasy expression on her pale face, her body curled on itself, leaned away from the macabre scene.

Instead, he finds interest. Jinx still looks somewhat uncertain, perched on his desk in a low crouch like she wants to make sure she can jump away at any moment. Her hair is out of her face, held back with an array of mismatched pins on her head, the rest flowing down her scrunched body, alleviating absolutely none of the shedding problem. 

But Silco can't feel the same annoyance looking at her now as he usually would, not with the way she's tracing the body in front of her with her gaze, her eyes wide. 

All the uncertainty comes out in her voice. "It was so," she hesitates, scrunches her nose searching for the right word, "slow."

"It was meant to hurt." Jinx glances at him, then looks back at the boy, unable to rip her gaze away. She looks down the sweat soaked hair covering his face, the blood-soaked shirt, to the slow drip into the puddle forming at his feet. She flinches when Silco grabs the back of his hair, tilts his head back to uncover the cloudy dead gaze. "Word carries. Would you think twice to follow his steps?"

She wraps her arms around herself, a clearly suppressed shudder. She doesn't look away, though. "Yeah."

"Then it worked perfectly as it was meant to." She flinches when the head drops back on the boy’s still chest. It doesn't matter, though, because she never averts her eyes.

She's back in his office barely a day later. None of that uncertainty in her face now, only angry defiance in the frown between her brows, her pursed lips, the way she's grasping the sling on her shoulder she's nursing her broken arm in.

The explosive she placed inside Sevika’s Chemtech arm barely brushed flesh; Sevika’s reaction was instantaneous, Jinx’s sling a proof of that. She's barely grabbed her from what he's heard, Jinx fracturing her own bone trying to twist away from the grasp. Regardless, standing in the doorway of his office with the sight of Jinx’s pathetic small figure with the heavy sling over her bony shoulder stirs something heated inside his chest.

He turns to Sevika, her lip curled over teeth, a snarl he regards emotionlessly. "Playing house, was it?"

"I told you to keep that wench out of my way," Sevika spits the words out, more burning her tongue clearly but Silco cuts her off.

"You were bested by a child. Don't let it happen again."

Debts aren't forgotten but neither should their real price. He holds Sevika’s gaze until she straightens her back, her nostrils flaring but her gaze firm, settled. 

Jinx gives him an unhappy look when the door clicks shut behind him. He can't shrug off the searing heated spike of fury at the sight of her, now stronger with the slight wince she gives when adjusting her arm. It melts at the edges into something odd, warm and curling his hand into fist to stop himself from brushing hair off her shoulder to get a better look at the injury. But at its core it remains angry, the sling a consequence of the trouble she got herself into.

Jinx's shoulders drop under his gaze, even though he keeps his voice calm. "What was your goal here?"

He’s almost disappointed at her sulking, the defiance in the furrow of her brows making him think she would hold her own. Jinx pipes up at his words though, a defensive note in her voice. "She said-"

"I didn't ask why you did it," Silco cuts her off. "I asked what your goal was there."

Her teeth catch her lower lip, chewing on it as Jinx seemingly holds off her anger, swallows excuses she knows he won't accept. "I don’t- I wasn't thinking," she almost spits out the words, her legs coming up onto the seating, her body curling on itself protectively under Silco’s disappointment.

"But you were." 

She hides her face in her knees as Silco makes his way to the desk, takes the seat behind it. He turns it away from her slightly, just enough for Jinx to unfurl herself from her place, quick unsure steps desperate to leave the conversation before he decides it’s not finished. 

He speaks before she reaches the door. "That explosive." Jinx pauses mid-step, throwing him a flighty glance over her shoulder. "Good work on it. Exceptional. Incinerated the wiring before Sevika even realised." 

A flicker, a gleam like light catching steel, just barely in her surprised gaze. The anger melting, caramelising in his chest should be uncomfortable but with the way the corners of Jinx’s mouth quirk up, he can't feel all the hard edges.

***

The theatre at the edge of the Lanes, unlike the one on the Promenade, looks worse than Silco remembers. It's never been a sight to behold, with the dilapidated outside, an abandoned building picked to be occupied, the bare walls inside, the small suffocating space adjusted to resemble an auditorium, the raised stage that makes Silco suspect the building might have been a place of worship a long time ago. The signs of the attempted upkeep, the new walls and the private tiny spaces carved out in the stuffy theatre, work only to make it seem more derelict.

Jinx’s interest spikes when she crosses the doorway; a child of the Lames she's probably heard rumours, whispers of the place but never been inside, sheltered from everything outside the heart of the Lanes, the Drop. Her interest wanes in the booth, though, her usual bored mask slipping over her features as she shifts in her seat.

He can relate to her boredom better here. Long before the Promenade, the carved ceilings and stories on the high stage, part of the experience sneaking into this building was the crowd. The seemingly endless to a child stretches of time before the backdoor shutting and the curtains opening, where all that was left to do was blend with the audience. And what an easy feat it was, the small space of the theatre allowing barely any movement, bodies always brushing against each other, sweat and perfume and odour indistinguishable from one to another. The idea makes Silco flinch with disgust now but back then closeness was expected, touch was easier, brush of bodies and flow of the crowd part of the Fissures as much as the thick air and coal dust was. It makes him uneasy, unsure to imagine Jinx amongst that crowd too, with her frail figure, her arm in a cast still with pigtails trailing down her back. It wouldn't accomplish what he set out to achieve here.

The play is just as crude as Silco remembers though, the simple plot carried by exaggerated acting, the shrill voice of the cheating wife planning the murder of her husband with his pain so large it borders on a caricature. Jinx watches the stage with vague interest, her eyes unfocused except for the few lewd jokes that makes her mouth twist, an amusing reminder of her teenage immaturity.

Her eyes sharpen into focus when the actress on stage fishes a prop gun out of her skirts, shaking hands pointing it at the husband. Silco’s only marginally aware of the happenings of the story, his eyes locked on Jinx, but he sees it all play out in her face: her hands grasping the skirts in her lap as she leans forward when the husband apprehends his wife, the gun dropping to the stage, a flash of the sharp razor he plucked out of his pocket against her throat.

Her cheeks flush pinker the more panicked the shrieks of the struggling actress become. Silco sees the red spillage on the stage out of the corner of his eye, but he sees it reflected on Jinx even more, her mouth dropping open as the wife's throat opens, gushing dark blood onto her clothes, onto the stained floor of the stage, rivulets dripping into the audience. Her eyes flutter from the ruined garment the husband rips off the body to throw into the crowd, down onto the puddles off blood, the small glimpses of it hidden by the crowd in the auditorium, all the noise, the hooting and hollering and the loud monologue from the stage barely reaching Jinx in her fascination, a memory of Silco’s own warped childish interest too intimate to see it play out on her face so clearly.

She's silent all the way to the river, her steps falling in line with Silco’s as he leads her down where the pier turns into the dock, well above where the current stops, the water becoming murky and still with death hidden in its clutches. She wrapped her arms around herself, worrying her bottom lip in thought; Silco lets her, occasional glance stolen to Ran behind them, ensuring their presence still there.

Jinx stops under a streetlamp, the yellow light bringing out shadows beneath her eyes, in the dimples on her cheeks. She turns to him, determination turning her frazzled face into a stony expression. "Was it real?" She demands. "It looked real."

Silco pauses his steps with her, hands in the pockets of his coat. "Did you want it to be?"

"No," she says then hesitates. When she corrects herself, the word wavers, uncertainty blurring the consonants at its edges, "Yes."

Her stony expression wavers too, the same uncertainty creeping on as she looks into Silco’s face. Pitiful, gut wrenching almost, the way she expects him to be disgusted or horrified, the inhibition visible in every taut unsure line of her body.

"Death is a tool, child. Violence is. You can't deal it out senseless or you'll find yourself paying the equivalent price." He tilts his head towards the cast on her arm, Jinx’s fingers twitching where they are laid against it, her eyes flicking across his face, gaze hanging on his dead eye. "Or more."

Jinx scrunches her nose, her mind racing. "When he used the razor... he wanted to it to hurt. But do you think he liked it?" Silco is vaguely aware of the crowds in the distance, the sounds of the docks and the river right next to them, the voices and shuffles and rumbles of life removed from them. There's always distance in the way he's approached, in the way he manoeuvres the crowds now, space that includes Jinx, that Jinx’s presence ensured even without this side of her, the curiosity she can't choke down despite all the hesitant pauses in her sentences. The possibility she opens with the simple question, the things he could make her become. "Do you think he liked hurting her?"

Unexpected, Silco thinks of Vander, the first time the image shows up in his mind so clearly since Jinx stopped screaming in her sleep. He doesn’t think of Vander’s vice grip on him, though, the familiar gentleness in his hand on the back of Silco’s neck just moments before, his face blurred and twisted through the sheet of water, of where the blade of the dagger entered the socket, piercing pain in his eyeball. No, Silco thinks of how the blade lingered, just for a moment, so short he paid it no attention in the flurry of searing pain but so undeniable he's come back to it for years, the slow drag of it out of his face that got lost in the agony. For years Silco wondered if it did linger, if it was his mind playing tricks on the memory of prolonged pain in every part of his body.

"He did," he tells Jinx, her open face showing how hungrily she devours each word. "Or he wouldn't want it to hurt."

Jinx grasps her shoulders tighter, starts to shiver, goosebumps on her arms. Silco doesn't have to think, to consider before he takes his hands out of his pockets, shrugs the coat off to lay it over her shoulders, a gesture so natural it only catches him off guard when it's done.

A momentary flinch in his body dissipates when Jinx sticks her chin out, looks right into his eyes. She's a bright spot on the pier, pale skin and bright blue hair shrouded in the darkness of the evening.

"I loved it," she rasps out, no hesitation, no uncertainty. Shivering under his heavy coat, illuminated by the faint light of the streetlamp, her eyes so fiery they burn brighter than the light or the sun ever could down here, Jinx might be the most magnificent sight Silco has ever seen in the whole of the Fissures. The highest form of its spirit condensed in her small figure.

"Good." The ties holding her pigtails loosened during the play, sliding down the length of her hair, her bangs falling into her eyes freely. He brushes them off her face. "We ought to do something with your hair."

Jinx’s wide eyes flicker with uncertainty now, her fingers grasping the lapels of the coat tighter. "We can braid it," she offers quietly, like she hopes Silco won't hear.

He doesn’t miss it, the we that should bring a sting of irritation at the hold she refuses to loosen on him. The shadows in Jinx’s face remain at the edges of her bright gaze, just like when the blood reflected in her hungry eyes, glistening so rich it almost turned the small ring of blue around her blown pupils red.

Silco tucks the lapels of the coat closed over her chest, slips a button shut so that it stays on her shoulders. "We can."

When Jinx weaves her fingers between his, he gives her a squeeze: curt, firm, undeniably in her grasp.

[whalesandstars]

Even Puppets Need Blankets (Part 2)

Wanderer & Nahida, Platonic [Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic]

Part 1

It was all your fault.

A lone boy stood in the middle of a void, in an endless stretch of desolate silence and stillness.

“It was all your fault.”

A voice. No, voices. They echoed in the bleak darkness, the words heavy as they bounced off and slammed on to him over and over again.

It was your fault.

It was your fault.

It was your fault.

A figure materialized in front of him. A woman with long braided indigo hair and purple irises. An archon. His mother.

The darkness gave way to light as it painted the interior of a workshop. White wood, carving tools, joints, mechanisms, blueprints, all of them sat inside the forlorn room; each one bearing the stories of creation, of the hope that the woman held for the puppet before her.

“Mother.” He looked up to her with a smile.

Like a flame extinguished by rain, the spark in her eyes faded at the sight of him,

“Mother?”

At the sight of the tears rolling down the puppet’s face.

With dread washing over him, he hastily wiped away the tears from his face, willing them to stop, but they did not.

Her eyes grew cold. Her hand that was holding his shoulder let go of him, the warmth from the contact dissipating into coldness.

“Mother, wait!”

His hand desperately reached out to her, to hold her, to make her stay, but she grew farther and farther away as the surroundings bled out and was painted over by the image of Shakkei Pavillion.

“Mother!”

His hand clawed towards her fading figure, his voice crying out her name.

“Mother, please don’t go! I promise I will do my best to be useful. I will obey every command you give me. I will study hard, I will train hard to become a stellar fighter. I will do everything…so please…”

He extended her hand to her, reaching out to her,

“Don’t go…”

Begging for the love he did not deserve.

“Don’t leave me alone…”

“It was your fault.” Her voice was cold, her eyes devoid of affection.

She turned away from him with disgust and never looked back.

The door slammed closed.

“It was your fault.”

He spun to see a young man with a deep blue bandana and a streak of red in his hair. An armory officer, a bladesmith. His friend.

His smile was warm, as warm as the flame that happily danced in the furnace. He told him to come over and handed him a hammer, handed him his trust and support even though he was not a human like them. Together, they forged a beautiful blade, crafted from the days of laughter and tempered by a bond of friendship. It reflected their faces as well as a golden feather that was hanging on the puppet’s neck, its gaze meeting with the young man’s face.

The bladesmith’s eyes went cold. The puppet watched his friend’s joyful smile fall and his lively irises went dull; the man’s face frozen in an image of hate and drilling scorn in the puppet’s non-existent heart. The young man’s hand fell limp and slipped from his shoulder, cold air blowing into the spot where it had been.

A glint of a blade, a crimson flower blooming from an unsullied white shirt.

Like the color of maple leaves, like the hue of the strands in his hair, red dripped down from the knife that had pierced the blacksmith’s chest.

“It was your fault.” He spoke with bloody lips as another man started to drag away his corpse.

“Niwa!” Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach out towards his friend, yearning to feel the last traces of his warmth, to cling on to the times they spent together that had been buried by his wrongly placed hatred towards him.

“Niwa, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” His cries echoed like a repeated prayer, “I should have trusted you…I’m sorry.”

“I will make it up to you, I will forge unparalleled swords with you.” He clawed through the leaves starting to block out his friend’s image, “Niwa, don’t leave…don’t leave please…”

Beneath his feet laid what he did not have, what he wished to have.

A heart.

Drops of tears fell beside the heart. The puppet knelt down and cradled it, holding the heart on his chest, wishing for it to beat, for its owner to be back to his side.

“I’m sorry…”

As he held it tighter, the heart morphed into something else. Red became lavender, a heart turned into a melon. The surroundings disintegrated and a forest replaced the forge, a soft afternoon breeze ruffling the puppet’s clothes.

He lifted his head to see the face of a young boy with messy sandy brown hair whose clothes were ragged and faded. A child, a fledgling barely out of the nest. His younger brother.

Sunlight fell on his sickly skin and created an illusion of a healthy pallor. He coughed, his face grimacing in pain for a second before flashing back a toothy grin. Together, they picked more lavender melons until their arms were full of them, until their faces were filled with the joy brought by the stories of their little adventures. They spent their days as a family. An older and younger brother, both fledglings in the same nest. They barely had anything, but they were happy. Their smiles were reflected on the shiny surface of a newly washed lavender melon…but that fruit disintegrated into ashes, slipping from the puppet’s fingers like grains of sand.

He whipped around with dread in his chest.

Fire greeted him. Enormous flames burned away their home, their dreams and hopes for the future crumbling into ashes. The fire mocked him. It laughed at him. It ridiculed the promises made in that house; it scoffed at the little make-believe family that was never made to last.

“It was your fault.” Came from the cold lips of the child laying in the center of the flames, his lifeless eyes fixed on the puppet he called his brother.

He wanted to run to him, to save him from the fire eating him away but flames erupted on his path. They wildly bit his skin, making him wince from the pain. It hurt. It burned. It was tearing him alive. Still, his desperation pushed through the pain as he reached out towards his brother until he was closer,

“You promised me that we would be together forever…”

And closer,

“You can’t die…”

And closer,

“You can’t…You can’t leave…”

And closer,

“Please don’t leave me alone.” 

His hand was inches from the boy’s body,

But they never got the chance to meet.

The ground beneath the puppet’s feet gave out, plunging him into darkness, into a sea of black flames that wanted to drag him down its depths. It was burning him. His skin was on fire. He was on fire. It hurt. It hurt so much. He flailed his arms, twisted his limbs, anything to break free from the agony. He wanted to swim up to the surface but the black flames only dragged him down further the more he struggled. Down, down, down, he went,  drowning in a sea of flames.

He was back at Tatarasuna, holding a device close to his chest,

“The furnace…We have to–I have to…”

“It was your fault.” Shadows spoke with the voices of the people of Tatarasuna; the faces of the family who welcomed him flickering amidst the raging flames.

“If you never stayed here, we would never have to die.”

The puppet felt a sharp pain in his chest.

He looked down to see a blade protruding from his torso, the tip glinting with the light of the flames around him.

A bladesmith’s voice whispered in his ear, his cold eyes fixed on a  horrified indigo pair, “I never would have died if I haven't met you.”

“If Niwa did not die, he could have found a way to save me.” A child stood to the puppet’s right, his gaze accusing, “If you weren't there, Tatarasuna could have avoided getting poisoned. My parents wouldn’t have died. I wouldn’t have died.” He pointed to the crowd in the front, “The citizens of Tatarasuna wouldn’t have died.”

“It was your fault.” Shadow figures with no faces crawled and grabbed the puppet’s legs, “It was your fault that we died. You killed us all. You ruined our reputation and the lives of Raiden Gokaden’s descendants. You robbed us of our lives and our future.” The ink in their hands bled onto white clothes, dying it black.

“I’m sorry…” The puppet sobbed, “I’m sorry…”

The ground turned into liquid and he was dragged back into the sea, down, down, down, until his back slammed against a metal table. Chains wrapped themselves on his wrists and ankles, trapping him in place as a maniacal smile emerged from the shadows.

He shivered. He tried to pull against his restraints but they only went tighter, biting his skin and choking his limbs. He screamed. He screamed when he was being sliced, pulled apart, and burned. He screamed when needled jabbed him and liquid fire was injected into his body.

It hurts, It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

“It hurts…” His throat was dry and raw; his please weak and broken, “It hurts, it hurts. No more, Dotorre.”

“Oh? No more, you say?” The Doctor leaned closer to him, like a snake slithering, and hissed on his ear, “But you deserve this. In case you have forgotten, or chose to forget, it is all your fault. They all died because of you. You deserve all this pain as a repentance, no?”

The Doctor forcefully jabbed a needle onto the puppet as if he was stabbing a knife and ignored the scream that followed, “You deserve this pain. An eternity of suffering is fitting for someone as useless and despicable as you.”

“It was your fault.” The electro archon emerged from the shadows, her eyes piercing her creation with distaste, “You have been discarded because you are ugly, useless, and weak. Ever since you are created, up to this point, you are nothing but a disappointment. You have done nothing right. You achieved nothing. You should have never existed.

A shaky word amidst cries, “Mother…”

“Do not defile my name by calling me as such.” Her eyes narrowed in contempt, “I am not your mother nor you deserve to have one.” With a swing of her hand, everything beneath the puppet disintegrated, “Begone.”

He was falling.

Falling into the endless abyss.

Falling into the depths of the sea of black fire once more.

But now, even though the water burned him, he no longer fought against it.

For he deserved it.

He deserved to burn eternally in this abyss,

To fall endlessly, alone and in pain, never given the mercy of dying,

He deserved it.

They were right.

It was his fault.

Everything was his fault.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was lost in the void, his sobs fading as they stretched into the unseen horizon.

It was his fault that Niwa was killed and accused. It was his fault that Katsuragi had to meet such an undignified end. It was his fault that Tatarasuna was doomed to such a miserable fate. It was his fault that the boy never got the help he deserved, to live the life he deserved.

It was his fault that innocent blacksmiths who had bright futures were wiped out.

It was his fault that his mother discarded him.

It was his fault that the Doctor had to do such things just to make him useful to the world.

But in the end, it did nothing. In the end he had nothing. He was nothing but a murderer, a failed deity, a being lower than gods or humans. He was nothing. Nothing but useless scrap of wood that deserved to burn away to ashes in a fire.

If only…If only he was not born at all.

It was all his fault.

His misery was his fault.

Yes, it was his fault.

But it still hurt.

He knew he did not have the right to complain for the punishment he was fittingly sentenced with, but it hurt.

It hurt to feel unwanted,

To feel useless,

To feel alone,

To feel unloved.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Everything hurt as he fell into the darkness.

Falling,

Falling,

Just like how his tears kept falling,

Until a speck of light shone, a tiny star in the perpetual night sky.

He wanted to reach out to it but held his hand back. He did not deserve that light. He did not deserve to be saved.

Still, that soft green light grew larger and larger, closer and closer. He did not reach out to it but it reached out to him. It embraced him, extinguishing the flames on his skin and soothing away the ache inside him. It cradled him, wrapped him with gentle warmth, like a blanket in the middle of a bone-chilling winter.

It felt comforting.

He felt safe.

He knew he did not deserve this,

But he could not help but sink into it.

Because here, in this tender hold,

He felt loved.

“I am here. You are not alone anymore.” The little light spoke, “You will be alright.”

His consciousness was slowly drifting away but his doubts managed to speak out, “I am so tired…”

Tired of crying, tired of feeling miserable, tired of hurting, tired of being alone.”

“I know you are tired, so sleep.” The light embraced him tighter, “I will be here with you. Sleep and when you are doing better, we will go on a journey to find the sun, to a place, where you can find the happiness you deserve.”

Everything was silent except for the sound of a soft rhythmic breathing.

Wanderer’s limbs felt heavy; his eyelids holding the weight of the earth. Still, he willed himself to open them. The world came in a blur of colors but soon cleared to reveal a familiar room and the faint green light that reminded him of forests. He found himself staring at an empty wall as he tried to sort out the confusion in his mind, as he blinked out the remnants of his dreams.

He was alone.

Just like before.

Wait.

He could feel the warmth of a living person. There was weight on his torso. He looked down to see a tiny arm wrapped around his body beneath the blanket draped over him…a blanket draped over him and another person.

Someone was with him.

Someone was beside him.

He was not alone.

“I am here. You are not alone anymore.”

The words from his dream rang in his ears.

Ah. It was her.

A child was sleeping soundly beside him, her snow white hair framing her youthful face. She looked so calm and serene, as if she was not in the presence of a dangerous person. She seemed so peaceful as if he was a friend, as if he was not a murderer who had done atrocities to her, countless other people, and to the whole world. She slept blissfully as she embraced him, just like that light in his dream, like how a little boy once did during cold nights.

His instincts, honed by the time spent with his little brother, urged him to embrace her back, to feel her warmth, but he stopped midway. She was too pure. If…if he held her, filthy as he was, he would only taint her.

He would not touch her.

For everyone this hand touch was cursed.

He was a curse to those who he learned to love.

When long eyelashes fluttered, he immediately drew back his hand and moved away from her.

“You are awake.” She brushed off the drowsiness from her eyes, “It seems that I fell asleep while looking after you.”

Wanderer folded his arms against his chest while his gaze was glued to the empty ceiling, “You don’t have to stay this long. This affliction is no big deal.”

She sat up, “But being alone when you are not feeling well can be sad.”

There was a faint ache inside him, a part of him that understood her words, but he ignored it, “I am not a child.”

“I am aware.” She smiled, “Thank you. This is my first time experiencing falling asleep like that.”

Because she too had been alone for a long time like him.

He tucked the thought away and just huffed in response.

It took a significant amount of willpower to not let himself lean on her touch when she cupped his forehead.

“You still have a slight fever, but you are doing way better.” She did not invade his personal space any longer and hopped back to the chair beside the bed, “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“I told you before, I have no need for those.”

“This is not about needs but wants . I will not force you anything. It is just a matter of preference at the moment.”

His voice softened a little, “...a glass of water then, I guess.”

With a smile, she poured the jug on the bedside table and filled a glass before handing it to him.

“Thanks.” His voice was barely a whisper when he handed her the empty glass.

“Well, what are you still doing here?” He asked, “Don’t you have any matters to attend to about your nation?”

“I do, but it can wait.” Emerald eyes looked at her companion, “There are things we need to discuss first.”

He shied away from her gaze that seemed to see through his defenses and was staring at his bare soul, “About what?”

“About you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Stop going in circles and just tell me what you need with me.”

Her voice was patient and gentle, “I want to listen to you. Whatever you wish to say, I will listen. About your dreams, what you think, anything.” Melancholy appeared on her face, “It can be lonely to have no one to listen to you, to what you really feel.” Her face was reflected on his indigo eyes; the same sadness staring back at her, “To keep things all to yourself because no one wants to hear them, no one wants to understand them.”

To be caged in silence because no one wanted to acknowledge your existence.

It was lonely.

“So I am here to listen.”

He wanted someone to listen.

But at this point he did not even know how to begin.

“Pardon me, Lesser Lord Kusanali, but I do not need your pity. If that’s what this is about, you don’t have to bother. I am fine.”

“Are you really?” She laced her fingers together, “Can you really say that you are fine for the last centuries?”

No.

But he did not know how to say that.

His walls had risen so high that he could no longer get past them himself.

He turned around and laid on his left side, leaving his back to face the dendro archon, “I’m tired. Can we talk about this some other time?”

“But there is no other time. You will never make time. You will keep avoiding this and continue deflecting it for as long as you can.” A small paper cutout of a human bathed in dendro’s glow appears on top of her palms, “It is natural for people to avoid the uncomfortable even if it means that they will keep hurting. I do not mean to impose if doing this now will really upset you but do know that if you want to properly heal, you have to take out the thorn first and bleed. True healing comes after.”

A long silence stretched to every corner of a room, enveloping it with stillness. Seconds drummed to minutes in rhythm with the dendro archon’s heartbeats. Everything was quiet. Everything was at a standstill.

Wanderer expected her to leave like everybody else after he did not give a reply, but he never heard the sound of footsteps or door opening. She was waiting. For him.

“Why?” He spoke his mind out loud, “Why do you want to waste your time with someone like me? I tried to take your position and your nation away from you. I have hurt you and your friends over and over again. You should be hating me, not helping me.” His reply came out softer than what he often delivered but the exhaustion and slight fever were still clouding his mind, dulling his usually sharp words.

“To be honest, I am not entirely sure myself.” The paper cutout disappeared in a shower of green light, “But maybe…it is because somehow I can see myself in you. I do not condone the outcome of your destructive actions, but I do understand where you are coming from. Perhaps it was partly due to curiosity, but I wanted to give you another chance.” An image of a bird was created with dendro’s glow, “I wanted to see where your story will go. I wanted to help you live and free yourself out of the cage you are in and see where you will fly to.”

It sounded warm and inviting.

She was offering him a hand to pull him out of the ocean he was in and he wanted to take it. To clasp her hand and break into the surface, to finally be able to breathe without water clogging his lungs, to see the sky beyond the dark depths.

But a part of him was holding him back.

After all, he did not deserve to be saved.

“You deserve the help you keep denying yourself, Wanderer.”

Her words struck him like a hammer.

“Stop reading my mind.” He demanded without sparing her a glance.

“I am not.” The bird, like the paper cutout, disappeared into thin air, “I am merely making an inference based on how you previously talked and acted before. But since you reacted that way, it must be right.

He curled to himself, feeling seen, feeling naked, feeling as if the ugly side of him he did not want others to see was being exposed. But then somehow, he felt…safe? There was something about the archon that made him feel that she was not judging him. That she understood. It was the same sensation in his dream wherein he was being cradled in warmth.

He felt exposed but he felt safe.

“I mean it.” She continued with an earnest voice, “You deserve the help you keep dyeing yourself.”

“I don’t deserve it…” The words spilled out of his mouth in a whisper before he could stop it.

“Why?”

His feverish mind spoke out his thoughts for him, “It was my fault.”

“What is your fault?”

“I…” He held back the tears pricking his eyes when the voices in his dreams echoed inside his head.

It was your fault.

It was your fault.

It was your fault.

“Everything was my fault.”

“And yet even though you erased yourself from Irminsul their fates still ended the same.” She reminded, “So was it really your fault?” She took a deep breath, “Yes, the deaths of the members of Raiden Gokaden was yours. The actions you did to innocent people were yours. But the others were not. The deaths of your cherished ones were not yours. Being abandoned by your creator was not yours.” She watched his trembling shoulders with forlorn eyes, “It was not your fault that you have emotions. To be human is to have emotions. It is never someone’s fault to be human.”

“If that young boy was supposed to be your successor, would you blame him for being powerless and having feelings?”

“No.”

“If Niwa was fed lies and was manipulated into hating you, would you blame him?”

“No.”

“Then why do you hold yourself to the standards you will not put others in? Why do you not extend the kindness you show to others to yourself? You have loved others but you refused to love yourself. You deserve the love you deny yourself, Wanderer. So please…forgive yourself for the things that were beyond your control.”

He did not know if it was her words, his emotions, or perhaps both, he did not know. He did not know. He did not know why his tears suddenly burst out and why there was a deep ache in his chest. He did not know why her words would not leave his ears and why they sounded as if he had been waiting to hear them his whole life. He did not know.

He did not know so he just cried.

“Once upon a time, there was a cat carved from a white tree.” Nahida spoke softly as he cried, “The cat was abandoned by his mother, had found a family, and had lost them. He had endured grief alone and suffered at the hands of those who mistreated him. All this time, the cat thought he deserved it because he was someone small, weak, ugly, worthless, and detestable. But that was not true. If only he looked through the eyes of others, he would see that he was someone lost, but never someone who should not exist. Perhaps then he would see that he too, like others, deserved to be loved.

“I–” his voice broke, desperately swallowing down his sobs as he hastily wiped away his tears.

“Do not fight it. Cry.” She went down the chair and climbed back into the bed. She did not touch him because she knew that he was too fragile to be held at the moment. So she sat there with her back facing him, letting her warmth bring a semblance of comfort, “You tried to remain strong for so long, to appear strong. Are you not tired? Tired of keeping all the pain inside you? Let it all out.”

Like a dam spilling, his tears flowed freely after being confined for so long. Centuries worth of pain poured out; all the pain he had been forced down his throat in the name of vengeance resurfacing into uncontrollable sobs. He cried the tears he shed when he reached out to his mother’s back, when he held the cold heart of Niwa, and when he burned down the house where the corpse of his brother lay. It hurt. The pain he kept pushing at the back of his mind during experiments and the entirety of his life in the Fatui came out with their thorns ripping out his body as they were removed. He bled in the form of tears. The wounds were once again raw, but at least they were out.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

But at the same time, he felt liberated. He was free to grieve, he was free to cry. He no longer had to appear indestructible and feelings, and just be himself, feel, weep, and be vulnerable.

He could cry without feeling alone.

“Lesser Lord Kusanali.” He managed to say when his tears had slowed down.

“Yes?”

“Even if you said all these things, I…I don’t think I can accept it just yet.”

“Which is just natural. Forgiving and loving yourself is hard. Being kind to yourself and to others is hard.” Her emerald eyes shone with compassion, “Recovering from all of this is hard. It can take months, years, or even decades. You will fail and will have to try over and over again. But the most important part is that you have taken the first steps in your journey.”

Wanderer turned to lay on his right side, showing his face to the archon but still refused to meet her gaze, “You are the God of Wisdom. Can you tell me what to do?”

She shifted her position to fully face him, “I can, but it is not my place to tell you that. This is your journey, your story. You yourself have to experience it and find answers of your own.”

A frown appeared on his face.

Nahida lightly flicked her fingers on his forehead, a smile greeting him when he looked up at her, “You are overthinking again. You do not have to rush and come up with an answer right away. You will figure it out in time. If you are lost, I can help guide you. I am an archon and have a long life ahead of me so even if it takes you centuries, I will be here.”

“Don’t.” He shrank on the bed, sinking into the pillow, “Don’t make promises like that. Everyone who said the same thing to me did not get happy endings.”

She hummed in thought, “Is a life that does not end happily not worth living? Is it just the end that matters and not the memories in between?”

He fell silent, his eyes becoming glassy with fatigue.

Nahida placed her hand on his forehead again, “That is a question for another time. Focus on resting for today.”

Too tired to even retaliate, he complied, “Alright.”

She shifted and reached out for the blanket and draped it over his body, hoping that it would embrace him comfortably in his sleep.

“I don’t need that.” It was not sharp and dismissive but just stating a fact.

“Yes, but doesn’t having one feel comforting?” Her smile was soft and tender, “Even puppets need blankets too.”

“...I guess.”

“Now get some more sleep. I will still be here when you wake.”

Amidst the endless darkness,

I will be a star,

Lighting the way for you.

But someday, I hope you find a way to reignite your own light,

So that you too can be a star,

Shining amidst the night sky.

So that you too,

Can shine a light for others.