#he's friendly to him in the near end chapters he appears in and treats him accordingly but you can feel swk's discomfort

[angstandhappiness]

HOLY SHITE THIS HURTS BAD SO GOOD

Seeing your forest fires content makes me have ideas for angst 👀 though maybe I'll do more content about them after exams and all but here's a little short drabble for now! @loupsbane

"You know Wukong. You are not as great as people or you think you are, you only endanger people around you. The child is a example of it." the god of justice muttered, putting his hand on the monkey king's shoulder. Having a little smirk on his lips, as he spoke out his words with venomous intentions.

Sun Wukong's body tensed under the touch of the God of justice's hand. The grip on his shoulder got more tighter, and he reluctantly agreed slowly nodding his head. The god of justice let out a snicker. "Honestly you are nothing but built to be a weapon against the forces of the celestial realm and anything else. That's what you are all good for." He muttered close to his ears.

The monkey god only bit his lips in forms of a response for the insults, No. For the truth that the other god had spoken to him. He knew he was powerless against him, in terms of mental fights and had always lost them. He couldn't help but let the tears begin dripping down from his eyes.

"You are nothing but built to be a weapon. You aren't a perfect person to be that child's mentor, you're only a fool who relies on their dreams, isn't that right?"

[ssa-dado]

9 - Folie à Deux

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, slow burn, so much tension it hurts. Summary: After being called to Houston to solve a gruesome case involving a dancing, folie à deux couple, you and Hotch are forced to go undercover, posing as a couple at a dance event. The operation brings you closer, revealing unspoken emotions as you navigate dangerous waters both on and off the dance floor. Back at Quantico, a matchmaking mission further blur the lines between partners, friends, and something more, solidifying your unique bond. Warnings: The case in this one is very graphic! Mentions of blood. Word Count: 14.1 k - I know, but trust me on this one Dado's Corner: My job with this one was simply to make your heart flutter, and I hope I’ve succeeded. I’m especially proud of this chapter (I secretly titled it “the ovulation chapter.” in my drafts). Unintentionally, it also works as a stand-alone one-shot. Consider this a small treat for all the suffering you’ve endured so far. Please comment and let me know what you think!

previous chapter ; masterlist

A few months had slipped by since you had finally admitted to yourself that you had a crush on Aaron Hotchner - your stoic, impossibly composed coworker but also your unexpectedly humorous friend. Accepting it didn’t make it any easier, though; it only sharpened your awareness of him, turning every stolen glance and fleeting smile into a secret thrill you could never quite tame.

His voice, deep and steady, lingered in your mind long after meetings ended, and every accidental brush of his hand felt electric, sending your heart racing in ways you couldn’t control. You found yourself memorizing the little things: the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the rare warmth of his smile that made the room feel lighter, and the quiet strength he carried that drew you in without trying. Working alongside him became a careful balancing act, a daily routine of holding back when all you wanted was to lean closer, to let your feelings spill out in ways that terrified and thrilled you all at once.

That day especially felt different, it wasn’t just any morning at the BAU; it was the day Hotch would owe you his 200th coffee - a milestone you had secretly been counting down to with a mix of excitement and fondness. What had started as a friendly wager between two competitive colleagues had evolved into a cherished ritual of ‘ constantly reminding you of your failures’, a small but meaningful connection that gave you an excuse to be near him, to share something uniquely yours in the chaos of your demanding jobs.

You stopped by your usual coffee shop on the way to work, picking up two cups of your favorite blend to mark the occasion. And because you couldn’t resist, you brought along the book you’d bought for him months ago but didn’t have enough courage yet to hand him due to the reminders of the dreaded night at Peter’s welcome back party - Hegel for Dummies. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction. Every detail, every inside joke felt like a small victory in your ongoing, unacknowledged crush on him.

As you walked into the bullpen, the morning light was filtering through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the quiet office. The light caught Hotch just right, illuminating him like some kind of ethereal portrait, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. He was sitting at his desk, engrossed in a stack of case files, the crease between his brows deepening with concentration.

His hair, usually so meticulously combed back, was already starting to rebel, a few strands falling loose and grazing his forehead in a way that made your heart skip. You loved how those little imperfections softened his usually sharp, composed appearance, making him look a touch more human, a little less like the untouchable rising star agent and more like the man you admired.

His eyes, a deep, rich brown that turned to liquid gold when the sunlight hit them just right, glanced up from his work as you approached. The way he looked at you, warm and attentive, made your breath catch. Those eyes, so often serious and guarded, held a softness that in your delusional mind he seemed to reserve just for you. It was like he saw you, really saw you, in a way that only a few else did, and that small, silent acknowledgment never failed to make your heart flutter.

“Good morning, partner,” Hotch greeted, his voice low and rich. It was a voice that always wrapped around you, grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The way he said “partner” felt special, loaded with a meaning you were too afraid to fully unpack.

“Good morning,” you replied, setting the coffees and the book down on his desk with a playful smile. “Today’s a special day, so I thought we’d celebrate.”

Hotch’s eyebrow quirked, his mouth curving into a teasing half-smile that made your stomach flip. God, you lived for that smile. It was so rare, so fleeting, and every time you saw it, it felt like a personal victory. “Special day? What did I forget?”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin as you watched the subtle play of emotions on his face - curiosity, amusement, that faint twinkle of mischief that always caught you off guard. “Come on, Hotch. Today’s the 200th coffee you owe me. Two hundred times you’ve somehow managed to beat me at this ridiculous game, and I’m starting to think you have a secret strategy you’re not sharing.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was low and quiet, but so genuine that it made your chest tighten. There was something about the way his face softened in those moments that made you want to memorize every line, every subtle shift. “I’ve been wondering when you’d bring that up,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar, dry humor you adored. “At this rate, you’ll owe me another 200 before you even come close to winning.”

The banter between you was effortless, filled with a warmth that made every exchange feel like a private little world the two of you inhabited. You leaned against your desk, studying him like you always did - quietly, reverently, as if each glance was a stolen moment.

There were so many things you loved about Aaron Hotchner, so many small details that made your crush feel like a living, breathing thing. The way his tie was just slightly askew, hinting at the frantic rush of his morning. The way his hands moved as he spoke, precise and deliberate, fingers that always seemed to know exactly what to do, whether they were flipping through case files or adjusting the cuffs of his perfectly pressed shirt.

“You know, by now, you owe me more than $200 worth of coffee,” you teased, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I think it’s about time you start paying up.”

Hotch’s eyes gleamed with that playful challenge you loved, the one that said he was always three steps ahead but still enjoyed every second of sparring with you. “Only if you can actually manage to win, which -let’s be honest - could take you an eternity. A philosopher I know once told me the story of Achilles and a turtle”

The lighthearted exchange was cut short when something on your desk caught your eye: a small, neatly wrapped box nestled under your lamp. It was a simple package, wrapped with an almost meticulous care, and you felt a surge of curiosity as you picked it up.

Hotch watched you, his expression softening, as you carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a sleek, elegant gel pen - the same kind he used religiously, except this one had a small “200” engraved near the clip.

Your heart skipped a beat, the significance of the gift hitting you like a tidal wave. It was just a pen, but it was also so much more than that: thoughtful, personal, and unmistakably him. You held it delicately, almost reverently, as if it were a secret you weren’t quite ready to share with the world.

Before you could find the words, Hotch spoke, his voice gentler than usual, tinged with that rare, intimate tone he reserved for moments like this. “I know Gideon never remembers anniversaries,” he began, his eyes flickering with the inside joke you shared, “but I’m not Gideon. And this is my promise that you won’t ever have to storm around like Rossi did on our first case together.”

It was such a simple statement, but the way he said it, so earnest and sincere, made your throat tighten. You couldn’t help but focus on the way his mouth moved, the slight pull of his lips that revealed just the faintest hint of dimples when he smiled. “Hotch, this… it’s perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugged, effortlessly brushing off your gratitude in that casual, understated way that always made your heart ache. "I wanted to. It's my favorite kind of pen, and I thought you should have one too. The only difference is the ink color," he added, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I've noticed you always use blue... a bit of an unusual choice, but hey, if it works for you."

You couldn’t stop staring at him, your chest fluttering at the way he noticed your quirks and habits. His attention to detail, his thoughtfulness, made you feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. It was as if he’d quietly gathered the pieces of you - those you tried to keep hidden and the small, silly traits that made you who you were - and somehow found them all worth celebrating.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hotch. You’re… you’re the best partner I could ever ask for.”

He smiled, that small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips that felt like a reward, and it made your heart soar. He leaned back, crossing his arms in that familiar, confident way that somehow made him look both commanding and completely approachable. “I could say the same about you,” he said, his voice carrying that rare sincerity that made you feel special. “Though I’m still waiting for the day you actually beat me.”

You laughed softly, your gaze locked on his. “This is so thoughtful, it almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek… if you weren’t so against physical contact, of course.”

Hotch’s smile turned mischievous, a rare twinkle lighting up his eyes that made your heart flutter uncontrollably. “Well, unlike Rossi and Gideon, we’re not married, yet.”

Though it was meant as a joke, it felt layered with something deeper, like a hidden promise disguised as banter. “Yet?! Are you planning on proposing? Because after all this thoughtfulness, you just might get a yes out of me,” you teased, your tone playful, even as your heart raced with the weight of your own words.

Hotch’s gaze lingered, his expression softening into something almost vulnerable. “I’ll make you another ‘lawyer’ deal,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to that low, intimate register that made your skin tingle. “I’ll propose by the time I owe you a thousand cups of coffee. So, you’d better start winning, or you might just be stuck with me forever.”

The words were light, meant to tease, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that made your breath hitch. Your heart pounded, the beat echoing in your ears as you tried to think of a witty retort, but all you could focus on was the way his eyes lingered on you, the faint curve of his lips, the way his presence filled the space between you.

“Be careful what you wish for,” you managed to say, your voice wavering slightly despite your best efforts to sound composed. “You know that if you give me a deal like that, I won’t be able to help but accept.”

Hotch’s smile softened, and for a split second, his expression was almost tender, a quiet vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. “Forever,” he murmured, as if testing the weight of the word, as if it were something fragile and precious.

“You’re a lawyer, Hotch,” you teased, though your voice was softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite name. “You should know better than anyone that divorces exist.”

Hotch’s gaze held yours, steady and intense, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Forever,” he echoed softly, the word hanging in the air like a quiet dare.

You tucked the pen into your pocket, feeling its weight like a promise, a small, tangible reminder of the connection you shared, the quiet care that threaded through every interaction.

As Hotch turned back to his files, the brief flicker of vulnerability and humor slipping into the familiar stoic composure he reserved for work, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift to that thousandth day. A small, impossible hope lingered in the back of your mind, quietly daring to imagine what might happen when that moment finally came.

☐ ⬛

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite night-owls gracing me with their presence,” Rossi greeted, his voice carrying its usual mischief as he glanced up at you and Hotch. “Hope you’re ready to pack up, we’ve got a situation in Houston. Local police just found a second victim, and it looks like this one’s escalating fast.”

There was no hesitation. Within hours, you, Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi were on a train bound for Houston, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks a relentless echo of the urgency ahead. The details of the case gnawed at your mind, filling the air with a heavy dread that clung to you like a second skin. This wasn’t just another case, it was darker, more depraved than anything you’d encountered in recent memory. Two victims in two weeks, seemingly random but bound by the sheer, almost ritualistic brutality of their deaths.

The first victim, Lauren Fields, a 21-year-old English literature student with bright eyes and a future full of promise, had been found hanging from the ceiling of a derelict warehouse. But it wasn’t just the fact that she was dead, it was how she had been killed.

Her body was marred by deep, deliberate cuts, as though the unsub had taken their time, savoring the act. He had let her bleed out slowly, cruelly drawing out her final moments. The scene was a nightmare of gore: blood sprayed across the walls, congealed in thick pools on the floor, smeared in what almost seemed like purposeful patterns. The blood on the floor told a grim story of its own, scattered in ways that suggested not just violence, but movement.

The second victim, Eric Watts, a 36-year-old plumber, had been found in much the same state. Another warehouse, another scene of calculated carnage. His body hung from the ceiling, suspended like a grotesque puppet, slashed with the same cold precision. His blood had pooled beneath him, the same sickening patterns left behind, as if the killers found joy in the desecration of human life.

There were no obvious connections between Lauren and Eric: no shared history, no common threads, but the horror they endured bound them together. The only connection was the sheer sadism behind their deaths, the terrifying reality of what they had suffered.

When you and Hotch arrived at the latest crime scene, the atmosphere was suffocating, the heavy stench of decay mixing with something far more sinister - a creeping, invisible darkness that seemed to pulse from the walls and seep into your bones. The warehouse was cold and damp, every step echoing in the cavernous space, amplifying the feeling of dread that settled under your skin. The scene before you was like stepping into a nightmare: blood was smeared across every surface, splattered like a grotesque and violent artwork that told the story of terror in a language only the twisted could understand.

The victim’s body still hung from the ceiling, pale and lifeless, suspended like a gruesome puppet left to rot. The stark contrast of crimson against the cold concrete created a macabre impressionist masterpiece, each streak and spatter of blood capturing the chaos and suffering of the final moments.

But it was the floor that truly made the scene unbearable: bloody footprints crisscrossed the entire space, overlapping and swirling in erratic patterns, turning the ground into a nightmarish dance floor painted in red. It wasn’t just the sight of the blood; it was the story those prints told, a sickening ballet of violence and madness performed by the killers who saw their victims as props in a twisted dance of death.

Hotch moved through the scene with his usual composed intensity, every step deliberate, every glance calculated. He had a way of grounding you even in the most horrifying moments, his presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone in facing this darkness.

You watched him closely as he crouched near the center of the room, his dark eyes scanning the bloody prints with the kind of focused calm that never wavered. There was something impossibly magnetic about his concentration, how he could look at chaos and find the patterns hidden within it. It was reassuring, and you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted by him every time you watched him work.

Hotch leaned in closer, tracing the jagged, uneven edges of the footprints with the tip of his pen, his expression hardening as he took in every detail. “There are two sets of footprints,” he observed, his voice steady and sure, cutting through the suffocating silence. “One left by a man, the other by a woman.” His focus was absolute, as if he were piecing together a puzzle only he could see.

You stepped closer, feeling the coolness of the blood-slicked floor through your shoes, the sticky sensation almost making you shudder. As you looked down at the prints, your mind raced, trying to make sense of the bizarre choreography. The shapes and patterns were hypnotic against the blood-stained concrete, swirling and merging in ways that felt oddly deliberate, almost purposeful.

You could feel Hotch beside you, his presence a steady anchor amid this violent tableau, and you leaned into that unspoken support, drawing strength from his calm.

“They’re not just walking around,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. The realization struck you suddenly, sharp and undeniable. “It’s almost like they’re dancing.” The prints weren’t just random; they moved in loops, turns, and steps that followed no logical path but instead mirrored something more fluid, more rhythmic. It was as if the unsubs were performing, dancing in the blood of their victim as they died above them.

Hotch’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours in an intense, electrifying moment of shared understanding. You could see the same chilling realization dawning in his expression, the pieces clicking into place with a horrifying clarity. You were both thinking the same thing, and when you spoke, the words tumbled out in perfect, uncanny sync: “It’s a folie à deux.”

Folie à deux - madness shared by two. The way the killers had moved around their victims, the sickening dance in their own blood, it all pointed to a couple lost in their own twisted world, feeding off each other’s delusions.

Hotch’s gaze lingered on yours, his expression a mixture of determination and something deeper, something that mirrored your own emotions, an unspoken acknowledgment of the darkness you were about to face.

The air between you felt charged, every breath heavy with the weight of what you had uncovered. In that brief moment, you felt a rush of warmth that cut through the chill of the crime scene, a reassurance that whatever horrors lay ahead, you would face them together, side by side.

You turned your attention back to the scene, but the connection lingered, a silent promise that neither of you had to say aloud. This wasn’t just about catching killers; it was about understanding the twisted minds that had found solace in each other’s madness.

☐ ⬛

Back at the police station, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with the urgency of finding a connection that seemed maddeningly out of reach. The four of you were gathered around a large conference table, the crime scene photos spread out like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that refused to fit together.

You watched as Hotch leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on the images before him. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way he absentmindedly tapped his pen against the table, little quirks you had memorized in the quiet moments between the chaos.

“They have no connection,” Rossi said, frustration evident as he flipped through the victim profiles. “One’s a student, the other’s a plumber. Different neighborhoods, different circles. There’s nothing that ties them together.”

Gideon nodded, his usually sharp eyes clouded with concern. “Lauren was outgoing, well-liked in her classes, no known enemies. Eric kept to himself, lived alone. They were single, no significant relationships that would tie them together. No overlap, no common link.”

You studied the crime scene photos, trying to piece together the senseless brutality into something that made even a fragment of sense. The killers weren’t just murdering—they were performing, re-enacting something deeply personal.

A thought struck you, a theory that felt like it was teetering on the edge of insanity, but you couldn’t shake it. “Maybe the connection isn’t between the victims,” you said slowly, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “Maybe it’s about the killers. They’re choosing substitutes, victims that represent something to them. They’re killing themselves over and over, using these people as stand-ins. It’s the only way they can keep their bond alive.”

Hotch leaned back, his gaze fixed on you, piecing together the fragments of the theory you’d just laid out. There was something about the way he looked at you - sharp, attentive, and with a hint of pride that sent warmth flooding through you. “If that’s the case,” he said thoughtfully, “then the unsubs must have a significant age difference. At least ten years, maybe more. One victim is young, the other is older, they’re acting out their issues, punishing each other through these surrogates.”

Gideon’s expression tightened, urgency pressing down on him. “But now we’re running out of time. The pattern is clear: they’ve killed one victim every Friday. Today is Thursday. If we don’t catch them soon, we’ll be looking at another body tomorrow.”

Silence filled the room, heavy with the weight of the ticking clock. The profile was solidifying, but you were still searching for that key piece that would lead you to the unsubs before they struck again.

Rossi tapped his pen against the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “They’re not picking these people at random. The way they kill, it’s theatrical, ritualistic. It’s personal. It’s like they’re putting on a show for each other.”

You pointed to the photos of the bloody footprints, the twisted dance steps that had been burned into your mind since you’d first seen them. “The dance. The way they move around the bodies - it’s coordinated, like a rehearsed routine. Both victims had connections to dance events in the city. Lauren was part of an improv dance group, and Eric attended open dance nights with his niece. They’re targeting couples who, in some way, remind them of themselves.”

Hotch nodded, the pieces clicking into place. “The unsubs are drawn to these events. They’re either participants or observers, targeting couples who challenge their twisted ideas of love and connection.”

Gideon and Rossi exchanged knowing looks, their expressions shifting from grim determination to something almost playful. There was a hint of amusement in their eyes, a rare break from the tension as they turned their attention back to you and Hotch.

“You know what that means,” Gideon said, his tone laced with a sly undertone that hinted at more than just strategy. “We need someone who can really get under their skin, challenge their so-called ‘love.’”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, a smirk spreading across his face as he glanced between you and Hotch. “And who better than the two of you? You fit the victimology like a glove - twelve years apart, just like their preferred targets. Plus,” he added, his voice dripping with mischief, “you two have pulled enough late-night sessions over case files. Now you get to do something a little more… interactive.”

He gave a wink, clearly enjoying the irony, and you could practically feel the teasing energy radiating off him. It was all too clear that Rossi and Gideon were having far too much fun at your expense. They knew exactly what they were doing, and the thought of you and Hotch going undercover as a couple was like handing them a golden opportunity to poke at both of you.

They didn’t just see partners, they saw the unspoken chemistry, the way you worked together like a well-oiled machine, and they weren’t going to miss the chance to play matchmaker, even if it was in the guise of catching killers.

Rossi’s grin widened as he saw the look on your face, and you could tell he was reveling in every second of this. “It’s fate,” he said with a chuckle, barely able to contain his amusement. “Out of all the things you two have faced, this might be your greatest challenge yet.”

Gideon nodded, barely suppressing his own smile. “So, go on. Pack your dance shoes. Time to see if you can keep up with the unsubs.”

The suggestion hit you like a freight train, sending your thoughts spiraling. The idea of going undercover as a couple with Hotch was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. It wasn’t just about pretending, it was about pretending with him.

Every time you looked at him, you felt the undeniable pull of your own feelings, the crush that you’d tried so hard to keep hidden, now bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Being this close to him, touching him, dancing with him… it was everything you wanted and everything you were afraid to confront.

Hotch caught your eye, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Out of all the things I signed up for when I joined the Bureau,” he said, his voice edged with humor, “I never thought I’d end up dancing.”

You tried to suppress the nerves fluttering in your chest, forcing a playful smile in return. “Be careful what you wish for, Hotch. Remember the deal you made back in Quantico? That you’d propose when you owed me a thousand cups of coffee? Well, here we are—on our anniversary, rehearsing for what could be our first dance.”

Hotch chuckled, his smile widening, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Guess we’re ahead of schedule, then. I might have to get that ring ready sooner than I thought.”

You both laughed, but beneath the banter, there was a flutter of something real, something that made your heart skip. The weight of your joke hung between you, laced with the kind of unspoken longing that you’d been trying to ignore for far too long. If only he knew how much you wished those playful words were true.

☐ ⬛

Later, back at the hotel, you found yourself in the lobby, staring down at the dance steps outlined in the file Gideon had handed you. It was a romantic routine: timeless, intimate, and designed to draw attention. As you studied the sequence, you felt Hotch approach, his presence warm and grounding.

You looked up to find him leaning casually against the wall, jacket draped over his shoulder, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. You couldn’t help but notice how his hair was starting to fall loose, framing his face in a way that made him look almost boyish, at how he was effortlessly handsome.

“You ready for this?” Hotch asked, his voice a low, comforting rumble. There was a lightness in his tone, but you could see the hint of nerves in his eyes. It was oddly reassuring to know that he was feeling the same strange mix of anticipation and anxiety that you were.

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady. “The Bureau never prepared me for undercover ballroom dancing. I think the last time I slow danced, I tripped over my own feet more times than I care to admit.”

Hotch’s laugh was warm, genuine, and it sent a ripple of something achingly sweet through you. “Well, it’s not exactly standard training. But you’ve got rhythm, you’ll pick it up. And hey, if we can survive a shootout together, we can handle a dance floor.”

You arched an eyebrow, teasing. “I’m starting to think you’ve been hiding some secret dance skills. Were you secretly moonlighting as a dance instructor?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Not quite. But I did take a few lessons back in college. Thought it’d be a good way to meet people. I was terrible at first - tripped over my own feet more times than I’d like to admit.”

You laughed, the image of a younger, awkward Hotch struggling through a dance class making you smile. There was something endearing about the thought, something that made you feel like you were seeing a part of him that few ever got to see.

Hotch extended his hand, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle challenge. “Ready to give it a shot?”

You took his hand, the touch of his skin sending a rush of warmth up your arm. “Not even one bit.”

The song Gideon and Rossi chose for the two of you was ‘It’s All Coming Back To Me Now’ by Celine Dion. The music began, soft and slow, filling the lobby with a melody that felt both timeless and intimate. As you moved together, each step felt like a tentative exploration of something more than just a dance.

Hotch’s hand on your waist, the subtle strength in his hold, the way his eyes never left yours, it was all so much more than you’d expected, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of every unspoken feeling between you.

“Careful,” Hotch teased as you stumbled slightly, catching you effortlessly. “Can’t have you falling for me on the dance floor.”

You shot him a playful glare, your cheeks burning with the double meaning behind his words. “If I do, it’s entirely your fault.”

Hotch’s smile softened, his thumb brushing against your hand as you continued to move in sync. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

The song played on, each step bringing you closer, each touch making it harder to ignore the truth you’d been hiding. Dancing with Hotch felt like stepping into a dream you didn’t want to wake from, a dangerous, beautiful dance where every move whispered of what could be, if only you were brave enough to reach for it.

As the song ended, Hotch pulled you close, his voice low and teasing. “Guess we really are rehearsing for our first dance.”

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. “Yeah, and just think, you’ve still got 800 coffees to go before you have to propose.”

He smirked, a twinkle in his eyes. “Better get to work beating me, then. I’m not planning on waiting forever.”

The words hung between you, playful yet laced with an unspoken promise. You knew it was just banter, just another layer of the teasing that had become so natural between you. But standing there, wrapped in the lingering closeness of the dance, it felt like so much more.

You stepped back slightly, breaking the intimate proximity but not the connection that buzzed between you. Hotch’s hand lingered at your waist for a second longer than necessary, and you felt the warmth of his touch sear through the fabric of your blouse, leaving a ghost of a feeling that you knew you’d carry long after this moment was over.

The silence stretched, not awkward but charged, both of you caught in a rare moment of vulnerability. Hotch’s gaze remained fixed on you, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to read the unspoken words that hovered just out of reach. For a moment, you thought he might say something, something real, something that would bring down the walls you’d both so carefully built. But instead, he broke the tension with a soft, knowing smile.

“You did good,” he said, his voice a low, comforting murmur that sent a thrill down your spine. “I think we’ve got this.”

You nodded, trying to muster your usual bravado even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get to dance with a lawyer. I’d say that’s worth at least a few points in my favor.”

Hotch chuckled, a sound that was all warmth and affection, and you couldn’t help but bask in it, soaking up every second. “Just remember, you’ve still got a long way to go before you catch up. But I’ll admit,” he said, tilting his head with a playful glint, “you’re getting closer.”

The lightness of his words belied the heaviness in your chest, the way your feelings for him felt like a secret you could no longer keep hidden. You wanted to say more, to let him know just how much these moments with him meant to you, how every joke and every stolen glance was a lifeline amid the chaos.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to risk the delicate balance of your partnership, the friendship that had grown into something far more complex than you’d ever imagined.

Instead, you settled for a smile, one that you hoped conveyed at least a fraction of what you felt. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Hotch. And who knows, by the time we hit a thousand coffees, maybe I’ll have you dancing circles around me.”

Hotch’s smile turned softer, almost wistful, and for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a flicker of something more in his eyes, something that mirrored the quiet longing you carried for him every day. “Maybe,” he said, his voice tinged with a kind of quiet sincerity that made your heart ache. “But if you ask me, you’re already leading the way.”  

The moment passed, but the unspoken sentiment lingered between you, a promise wrapped in uncertainty, an almost that hung just out of reach. As Hotch turned back to the files spread out on the table, his focus already shifting back to the task at hand, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance, committing every detail of this moment to memory. It was hard not to get lost in the fantasy of it, to imagine that maybe you and Hotch were dancing for yourselves, not just to catch a pair of killers.

Because even if it was just banter, just a playful dance of words and what-ifs, it was enough.

For now, it was enough to be by his side, to share the weight of the cases and the late nights and the stolen moments of something that felt almost like happiness.

For now, you’d keep dancing around the truth, holding onto the hope that someday, the steps would lead you to something more.

☐ ⬛

The atmosphere in your accommodation felt charged with an energy that was hard to ignore. You and Hotch had just finished a long day of preparation, your bodies still buzzing from the adrenaline of the evening.

This was the first time you had shared a room with him since you realized your feelings for him had deepened into something more, and you were painfully aware of the tension that hung in the air.

You were both drenched in the aftereffects of your undercover mission. The dance had felt so intimate, so dangerously close, and now you found yourself grappling with those emotions in a more personal setting. The idea of showering was both a relief and a distraction, a way to wash away the sweat and tension from the evening.

As you stepped beside the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment was significant, that it marked a turning point between you and Hotch. You had shared hotel rooms on countless occasions, but this felt different. This time, there was an awareness, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart race.

“Do you want to go first?” Hotch asked, ever the gentleman, as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. You nodded, grateful for the moment to gather your thoughts, to shake off the lingering tension of the evening.

After your shower, you dried your hair and slipped into a comfortable shirt and your usual pajama shorts, taking a deep breath before reentering the main room. As you emerged, you found Hotch sprawled out on the bed, a bemused expression on his face as he flipped through the pages of the book you had given him, Hegel for Dummies.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sight of him attempting to wrestle with philosophical concepts a delightful surprise. “Look at you, and I thought I was the official philosopher of our duo,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “I never thought I’d see you actually reading a book about philosophy. I was sure you were too serious for ‘Hegel for Dummies’.” you emphasized the word “dummies” with a smirk, savoring the rare chance to poke fun at his usually serious demeanor.

Hotch glanced up, his dark eyes twinkling with a rare spark of amusement. “What can I say? I’m already feeling a bit wiser,” he replied with a dry smile. “But hey, who wouldn’t want their mind expanded by ‘Hegel for Dummies’?” He emphasized the word with a smirk, playing right into your joke. “Though, I’ll admit, this wasn’t exactly how I envisioned unwinding after a long day on the job.”

“Just promise me you won’t start quoting him at me,” you said, dropping into the chair opposite him with a playful grin. “I’m not exactly in the mood to have my brain twisted around philosophical notions of love and duty - especially not whatever version of that ‘Hegel for Dummies’ is peddling. That sounds like a headache waiting to happen, that could get overly-simplified.”

Hotch stood up and stretched, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as it rode up slightly, revealing a teasing glimpse of the firm, toned skin at his waist. You caught yourself staring, heat flooding your cheeks as you quickly looked away, caught between admiration and a surge of embarrassment.

“I’ll do my best to keep the heavy philosophy to a minimum,” he said, his voice low and slightly teasing as he moved toward the bathroom. “But I can’t promise I won’t slip up.” The way he glanced back at you, a subtle challenge in his eyes, left you feeling a little breathless, as if his words were more than just about Hegel for Dummies. 

As he stepped into the bathroom to shower, you couldn’t help but stare at the closed door, the lingering warmth of his presence still in the air. It was a mix of nerves and excitement, and you were acutely aware of how much you wanted to cross that invisible line between partnership and something more.

When Hotch emerged from the bathroom, his hair was still damp and tousled, messy in a way that made him look effortlessly handsome. Droplets of water clung to his skin, trailing slowly down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, drawing your eyes to the strong lines of his throat and the hint of muscle beneath. For a moment, your breath hitched, and time seemed to stretch as you took him in - disheveled, raw, and undeniably attractive.

He exuded a quiet confidence, his body a blend of strength and subtle elegance that was captivating, even in his exhaustion, you couldn’t tear your gaze away, admiring the man who, even at his most worn-down, was impossibly magnetic.

“Are you okay?” he asked, catching your gaze. His voice held a hint of concern, a gentle nudge back to reality.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, just… lost in thought.” Your voice sounded distant even to you, the weight of everything lingering in the air. “Oh, and Peter just called. He’s in Los Angeles on a case, and he wanted to know if we’d be up for grabbing drinks when we get back.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, concern and curiosity mingling in his gaze as he studied you closely. “Are you okay with that?” he asked gently, his voice softening with genuine care and a quiet, almost protective undertone. He hesitated, his eyes lingering on yours, as if trying to unravel the emotions you kept hidden just beneath the surface. “And what about the date you had with him? How did that go?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the unspoken truth bubbling up before you could stop it. It wasn’t easy to admit, especially to Hotch, but something about his presence made it impossible to hold back. “Honestly, it just reinforced what I already knew,” you confessed, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. “We’re compatible as friends, but when it comes to being a couple, there’s… something missing.”

Hotch leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His expression was open, his concern genuine, and it was clear that he wasn’t just asking to be polite; he wanted to understand. “Missing how?” he pressed, his voice low and full of quiet curiosity that pulled you in.

You hesitated, grappling with the vulnerability of sharing the deeper truth, a truth that you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself. “I don’t know,” you said slowly, searching for the right words. “It’s like there’s no spark, no real connection that makes me feel… grounded. I keep trying to find this balance within myself, this sense of who I am and what I want, before I dive back into dating. With him, I just felt like I was going through the motions, hoping for something that wasn’t really there.”

You watched as Hotch absorbed your words, his expression shifting with a flicker of understanding. There was a look in his eyes that told you he got it, maybe more than anyone else ever could. “You’re being honest,” he said softly, his tone filled with quiet respect. “That’s important. And it sounds like you’re making the right choice, prioritizing what feels true to you instead of forcing something that doesn’t fit.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through you at his validation. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the comfort of his support like a gentle embrace. But beneath your gratitude, there was a lingering ache, a nagging wish that you could tell him the other real reason you were so hesitant to start something new with anyone else. The truth was, it wasn’t just about finding balance within yourself, it was also about him.

Hotch studied you for a long moment, his gaze never wavering as if he were searching for something deeper, some hidden truth that you hadn’t yet found the courage to voice. “Just remember,” he said, his voice gentle and laced with a sincerity that made your heart flutter, “it’s okay to take your time. There’s no rush to figure it all out, and no rulebook you have to follow.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that hit you straight in the chest. Hotch wasn’t just talking about your reluctance to date; he was offering you the space to breathe, to heal, to find your way without pressure or judgment. It was the kind of reassurance you hadn’t realized you needed, and it made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and terrifying.

You offered him a grateful smile, feeling a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. “Thanks, Hotch. That means a lot,” you said softly, and you meant it more than he would ever know.

“And, by the way,” you added, trying to lighten the mood, “Even if you are the philosopher now, I don’t think you have to worry about being proposed to anytime soon.”

Hotch chuckled, his voice playful  “You never know. A thousand coffees and a philosophical debate might just seal the deal.”

You laughed, trying to shake off the weight of your feelings. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure I’m ready for that day, then.”

Hotch turned away, rummaging through his bag for a fresh shirt, and your eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement. As he pulled off his damp shirt, you caught a glimpse of the toned muscles in his back, the way they flexed subtly under his skin. The faint sheen of moisture made his skin glisten, his hair clinging damply to his forehead in a way that was both rugged and impossibly enticing. Your breath hitched, heart pounding as you watched him, captivated by the effortless grace of his movements.

You were drawn to him in ways that you could hardly admit, even to yourself. It wasn’t just his looks - though the sight of his broad shoulders and the curve of his spine definitely didn’t help your situation - it was everything he embodied. He was stability, strength, and an unwavering presence that grounded you even in the darkest moments. He was everything you craved, everything you told yourself you shouldn’t want, and yet here you were, heart racing and pulse quickening at just the sight of him.

You shifted on the bed, trying to focus on anything but him, but it was useless. Every movement he made drew your attention. The way he absentmindedly ran his hand through his wet hair, ruffling it in a way that left it messier than before. The subtle tilt of his head as he absorbed your words, genuinely invested in what you had to say. He made you feel seen, and that was more dangerous than any undercover mission.

“So,” Hotch said as he slipped his arms into his shirt, the fabric hugging his shoulders in a way that made your heart race, “do you ever regret it? Not… dating, but just how all of this can make things so complicated?”

You looked up, surprised by the question. The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Honestly? Sometimes,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But I think it’s normal to feel that way. The job… it demands so much. And sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the trade-offs. But then I remember why I started, why I wanted this, and it keeps me going.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze distant as if he were sifting through his own set of regrets. “I get that,” he said quietly. ��It’s easy to lose sight of things, to get caught up in the job and forget what you wanted in the first place.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. It was a rare, intimate glimpse into Aaron—the man beneath the stoic exterior, the version of himself he reserved only for moments like these, moments shared with you outside the rigid confines of work.

It was moments like this that made your feelings for him feel far deeper than a simple crush. It wasn’t just a fleeting infatuation; it was something profound, something that had quietly grown over time through every shared late night, every unspoken understanding, and every instance of mutual respect and unacknowledged care.

“Hotch,” you began, hesitating as you searched for the right words, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but… I really look up to you. You’re the reason I push myself every day. Because you set this standard that I want to live up to. Not just as an agent, but as a person.”

Hotch glanced at you, his eyes softening with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Gratitude? Affection? Whatever it was, it made your pulse quicken. “You don’t need to live up to anyone but yourself,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re… you’re better than you realize. And I’m glad to have you as my partner.”

The sincerity in his words settled over you like a warm blanket, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much his opinion meant to you, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. So instead, you just nodded, hoping he understood the depth of your appreciation.

Hotch finished to dry his hair with the towel, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a different scenario. One where this wasn’t just another case, where you weren’t just colleagues sharing a hotel room for the sake of the job. You imagined lazy mornings, quiet dinners, and dances that were just for the two of you, moments untethered from the weight of your work.

“You know,” Hotch said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, “for someone who’s supposedly my biggest competition, you’re pretty soft.”

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the lighthearted shift. “Don’t let it get to your head, Hotchner. I’m still gunning for that 1,000th coffee win, and when it happens, you’ll be the one stuck making breakfast every morning.”

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and it made your heart swell. “If that’s the price of losing, I think I can live with it.”

He sat down on the edge of his bed, picking up the book again, flipping through the pages as if searching for something to focus on. The sight of him engrossed in philosophy, his brow furrowed in concentration, was both endearing and a little surreal. You hadn’t expected him to take to the book so earnestly, but here he was, deep in thought, as if dissecting the nature of existence itself.

“Never pegged you as the type to dive into Hegel,” you teased lightly, hoping to steer your thoughts away from the yearning you were struggling to hide. “I thought you’d find it too abstract.”

Hotch glanced up, his smile small but genuine. ”Hegel for Dummies” he corrected you “Well, you did say it’d make me the official philosopher of the team. Besides, it’s… interesting. Challenging. A good distraction.”

“A distraction from what?” you asked, curious but careful, not wanting to pry too much.

Hotch hesitated, his eyes briefly clouding with something unspoken. “Just… life, I guess. It’s a lot easier to focus on someone else’s theories than to get lost in my own head sometimes.”

You nodded, understanding the sentiment more than you could say. “Guess we all need a distraction every now and then.”

He smiled at that, and for a moment, the room felt lighter, the heaviness of the day lifting just enough for you to breathe a little easier. Hotch stood up, stretching his arms up again, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a glimpse of toned muscle beneath. You quickly averted your eyes, focusing on anything else, the artistry behind the pattern of the carpet, the flowers motives taking inspiration from 1800’s Art Nouveau… anything that wasn’t him.

Hotch caught your flustered expression and chuckled, the sound warm and unexpected. “If there’s something you want to say, you can just say it. I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

You fumbled for words, desperately trying to mask the fact that you’d been caught staring. “No, it’s nothing,” you stammered, your mind scrambling to come up with a quick distraction. “I was just thinking… once this case is over, maybe we should figure out a way to hand this undercover gig back to our two lovebirds. You know, let Rossi and Gideon get a taste of their own medicine. They’ve had way too much fun at our expense.”

Hotch paused, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You mean like turning the tables on them?” he asked, his tone light but carrying a hint of something more devilish beneath it. “Maybe set them up with a little undercover operation of their own. I bet Gideon would look great in a dance ensemble.”

You laughed, enjoying the image of the two seasoned profilers stumbling through a dance routine. “Oh, definitely. Maybe we should get them to ‘rehearse’ with us. A little late-night surprise choreography. We could even record it, strictly for case review purposes, of course.”

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in, clearly enjoying the idea. “We’ll make them pay for every smug look and every teasing comment. Let’s call it payback with a side of public humiliation.”

“Partners on the job, partners on the dancefloor, and partners in crime,” Hotch said, his voice laced with a mix of playful mischief and sincerity.

You grinned, feeling a rush of warmth at the thought of plotting with him. “The unholy trinity. They should have known better than to pair us up in the first place,” you said, savoring the moment.

Hotch’s expression softened slightly, his smile still lingering. “We would’ve found our way, no matter what,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet conviction that sent warmth flooding through you.

☐ ⬛

The next evening, the dance hall was alive with a soft, romantic glow, illuminated by chandeliers that cast a warm, golden light across the polished wooden floors. The air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the gentle strains of a live band playing in the corner.

Elegantly dressed couples moved gracefully around the room, their easy smiles and carefree movements masking the dark reality that lingered just beneath the surface. But for you and Hotch, this wasn’t just another night out, it was a hunt, and the dance floor was your stage.

Hotch was dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly, exuding both authority and elegance. The crisp white shirt beneath his jacket added a touch of classic sophistication, but it was the open collar and the absence of his usual tie that gave him an air of relaxed charm that was rarely seen. His presence was magnetic, drawing eyes even in a room full of polished strangers.

You wore a sleek, simple white dress that softly hugged your curves, the fabric flowing with every step and catching the light as you moved. It was elegant yet daring, a statement piece that matched the confidence you needed to exude tonight. The neckline dipped just enough to be provocative without crossing the line, and the slit at your thigh gave you the freedom to dance with ease, a pair of dance heels completing the look.

Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your lower back as you entered the dance hall, his touch warm and firm, a silent reassurance that anchored you in the moment. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin fabric of your dress, and every gentle press of his fingers sent a shiver up your spine that was impossible to ignore.

It was part of the cover, you reminded yourself, just an act to make you look the part. But every time he leaned in close, every whisper of his breath against your ear, it felt like so much more than that.

“Remember, stay close,” Hotch murmured, his lips brushing your ear as his voice rumbled low and intimate, almost sending a shiver straight to your core. “We need to blend in, keep it natural. And if you see anything—”

“Signal you,” you finished, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. You shot him a teasing smile, trying to mask the way his proximity made your pulse race. “I’ve got it. Just don’t step on my toes, okay?”

Hotch’s smile was quick and genuine, his eyes twinkling with a rare playfulness that made your breath catch. “No promises,” he said, his tone light but laced with the familiar seriousness of the job. “But I’ll try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

The music shifted, and the opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” filled the room, the familiar melody wrapping around you like a soft embrace. You took your places on the dance floor, and as Hotch’s hand found yours, a current of electricity passed between you. This was the routine you’d rehearsed endlessly, designed to lure the unsubs into revealing themselves. But as you stepped into the familiar movements, it felt like more than just a strategy.

Hotch’s grip on your waist was firm but gentle, guiding you effortlessly across the floor. His other hand clasped yours, fingers interlacing in a way that felt both intimate and natural, as if you’d done this a hundred times before – and actually you did last night.

Each step was precise, each turn fluid, but it wasn’t just the choreography that made your heart race, it was the way Hotch’s eyes never left yours, dark and intense, as if you were the only two people in the room. His movements were smooth, confident, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the quiet strength that radiated from him.

With every spin, you felt the brush of his suit against your dress, the closeness of his body sending heat coursing through your veins. You were acutely aware of every touch, every shift in his posture as he pulled you closer, his breath mingling with yours in the space between.

The dance was supposed to be a lure, a means to an end, but in that moment, it was easy to forget the purpose behind it. It felt like an unspoken conversation, every movement a confession of the emotions simmering beneath the surface.

As Hotch twirled you around, your back pressed against his chest, the world seemed to narrow to the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his touch. For a brief, dizzying moment, you weren’t just undercover agents, you were two people lost in each other, sharing something that went beyond words.

He leaned in, his mouth hovering near your ear, his voice barely audible over the music. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, and the sincerity in his tone made your heart flutter. It wasn’t just praise; it was a reminder that he was with you, that you were in this together, not just on the dance floor but in everything.

As the song built to its powerful crescendo, you felt the weight of the room shift. Eyes were on you - some admiring, others envious, and two pairs watching with a chilling intensity. The unsubs had noticed you, just as you’d hoped. But in that moment, it was hard to remember that this was all a performance, that the heat between you and Hotch was supposed to be an act.

“Doing okay?” Hotch asked, his voice low and steady as he pulled you closer, his hand resting at the small of your back.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. I think we’ve got their attention.”

Sure enough, as you continued to dance, you noticed a couple standing off to the side, watching you with an unsettling intensity. The man was tall and rigid, his expression dark and brooding. The woman beside him was younger, with a delicate, almost ethereal appearance, her eyes flickering between you and Hotch with a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled hostility.

Hotch’s grip tightened ever so slightly, a silent signal that he’d seen them too. “They’re watching us,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make it obvious. Just keep dancing.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure as the unsubs edged closer, their movements purposeful and predatory. The woman’s gaze lingered on you with a kind of disdain that made your skin crawl, as if she were sizing you up, looking for weaknesses. You felt Hotch shift slightly, positioning himself between you and the male unsub, a subtle but deliberate move to protect you.

As the music swelled, Hotch spun you in a graceful arc, his hand firm against your back, guiding you effortlessly. The dance felt like an extension of your partnership: fluid, unspoken, each movement a testament to the trust you’d built.

“This is it,” Hotch whispered as he dipped you low, his face inches from yours. You could feel the tension in his hold, the urgency mixed with something else, something that made your breath hitch. “They’re coming in. Just a little longer.”

You nodded, eyes locked with his, feeling the weight of the moment. When he pulled you back up, you spotted the unsubs moving toward you, their expressions dark and taunting. They joined the dance, circling you and Hotch with a menace that was palpable. The woman moved erratically, her steps sharp and aggressive as if mocking your movements, daring you to falter.

The man sneered, his presence looming as he matched Hotch step for step. “You think you’re good enough to keep up with us?” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “This isn’t just a dance.”

Hotch’s expression remained calm, but you could see the fire in his eyes. “It’s not about being good enough. It’s about knowing when to stop.”

The tension reached a breaking point as the woman lunged at you, but Hotch was faster, pulling you back and shielding you with his body. The room erupted into chaos as undercover agents moved in, surrounding the unsubs with practiced precision. You were yanked out of the way, Hotch’s hand never leaving yours as he guided you to safety.

The man fought back viciously, but the agents overpowered him quickly, wrestling him to the ground. The woman was dragged away, her screams echoing in the dance hall as she cursed and spat, her eyes wild with fury. It was over in a matter of seconds, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins made it feel like an eternity.

Hotch stood beside you, his breathing ragged but controlled, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you. “You did great,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and exhaustion. “We did it.”

You turned to him, the weight of everything hitting you all at once “Yeah,” you replied, your voice unsteady. “We did.”

“Guess our partnership does extend to the dance floor after all,” Hotch said with a faint smile, echoing your earlier banter. His eyes held yours, warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope for whatever might come next.

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah, but I’m still holding you to that deal, Hotch. A thousand coffees, remember?”

He chuckled, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip, he teased. “You just might get it.”

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, someday, you would.

☐ ⬛

Back at the hotel, the adrenaline of the night had finally worn off, leaving you both drained. Hotch was seated at the small table in your shared room, his usually sharp posture softened by fatigue, sleeves rolled up. He had his jacket carelessly tossed over the back of a chair, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp as he flipped through the case notes one last time. The quiet rustle of paper filled the room, a familiar sound that normally calmed you, but tonight, it only reminded you of how much had happened in the span of a few hours.

You sat across from him, cradling a cup of coffee that had gone cold a while ago, but you didn’t care. Hotch glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the exhaustion in his expression softened, replaced by something gentler, more personal.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he said, his voice low but filled with a sincerity that sent warmth rushing through your chest. “That wasn’t easy, but you kept your head, and… I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his praise, the knot of tension in your chest loosening ever so slightly. There was something about the way he said it, the way his gaze lingered on you, that made you feel seen in a way you rarely allowed yourself to feel. “Thanks, Hotch. I couldn’t have done it without you… literally,” you said with a soft smile, trying to keep your voice light despite the emotions stirring within you.

Hotch chuckled, the sound low and warm, a rare softness that made your pulse quicken. “I think we made quite the team tonight. I’d say Rossi and Gideon were right for once.”

You both laughed, the sound easing the lingering tension in the room. You could almost hear Rossi’s smug voice ringing in your ears, the playful teasing he’d surely throw your way once you were all back at the office. But as the laughter faded, the reality of the night settled back in, leaving you with a quiet, contemplative moment that was all too fleeting.

“It was strange,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the coffee in your hands. “Being that close to… everything. To you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, vulnerability lacing your voice, and you quickly tried to cover your tracks with a joke. “Especially because you’re not the most physical person I know—and this comes from another relatively not-so-physical person.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, as I’ve already told you, you’ll have to wait until the 1,000th coffee before you get any kind of physical contact.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, the joke a reminder of your earlier banter, but underneath it, you sensed the deeper acknowledgment of the closeness you’d shared on the dance floor.

“Be careful what you wish for, Hotch,” you teased, your voice light but tinged with genuine affection. “With the way things are going, we’re not just approaching our 1,000th coffee; we’re practically rehearsing for our first dance.”

Hotch shook his head, his smile widening as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Maybe it’s all part of Rossi’s master plan. Get us so tangled up in undercover work that we forget how to do anything else.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at the thought of Rossi’s meddling. “If this is his idea of fun, then I’d hate to see what he has planned for our next assignment.”

The teasing between you felt like a lifeline, something solid and real to hold onto amid the chaos. But even as you joked, there was a flicker of something deeper in Hotch’s eyes, a quiet recognition that this was more than just another case, more than just another day on the job.

Eventually, Hotch set the case notes aside, his focus shifting entirely to you. He leaned back, studying you with an expression that was equal parts admiration and something softer, something you dared not name. “You should get some rest,” he said gently, his voice carrying a note of concern that tugged at your heart. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and I think we’ve both earned a break.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion tugging at your limbs as you stood and made your way toward your bed. But before you turned off the light, you glanced back at him, unable to keep the small, grateful smile from spreading across your face. “Goodnight, Hotch. And… thank you. For not having stepped on my toes.”

Hotch returned the smile, his eyes lingering on you in the dim light. “Goodnight,” he replied, his voice soft but resonant. “And thank you, for the dance.”

☐ ⬛

When both of you were back to Quantico, the bar was buzzing with the lively hum of weekend chatter and soft music playing over the speakers. After the intensity of your recent cases, you, Hotch, and Peter had agreed to meet up, seeking some semblance of normalcy amid the chaos of your jobs.

The three of you were seated at a circular table, dimly lit by the glow of a nearby lamp. Peter was talking animatedly about his case in Los Angeles, recounting the details with a mix of exasperation and pride, while you and Hotch listened, nursing your drinks.

You watched Peter with a fond smile, grateful for the easy camaraderie you shared, but also feeling the weight of recent revelations about your own feelings. As he talked, you couldn’t help but notice how animated he became when he was excited, the way his eyes lit up when he was deep in a story. It was moments like these that made you value his friendship so much, but also reminded you of why things between the two of you could never be more than that.

Your gaze drifted absently around the bar, soaking in the low-lit ambiance and the scattered patrons enjoying their evening. The clinking of glasses, murmured conversations, and soft laughter created a comforting buzz in the background.

But something else caught your attention: a woman at the table next to yours, just out of Peter’s line of sight, was eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and barely concealed interest. She was attractive, with an easy smile and bright eyes that flickered over to Peter whenever he wasn’t looking. Her body language screamed intrigue—subtle glances, a quick smoothing of her hair, and the nervous excitement of someone contemplating making the first move.

Instinctively, you glanced over at Hotch, who was already watching you with a knowing smirk, as if he’d been waiting for you to catch on. His dark eyes gleamed with the unspoken mischief you both shared, reading your thoughts without a single word.

It was one of those moments that felt like a silent conversation, a shared understanding you’d perfected over years of working together. You both knew what this was: Peter deserved someone who saw him, who could give him the attention he deserved, something you were too tangled up in your own unresolved feelings to offer.

Hotch leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial, his breath warm against your ear. “We should give him a chance,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a subtle smile that sent an unexpected flutter through your chest.

You nodded, catching on to his plan immediately, your own smile mirroring his. “We just need to find a way to leave him alone. Got any ideas?” you asked, your voice playful yet filled with anticipation.

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He had that look—the one that told you he was already five steps ahead, crafting a plan with the precision of a seasoned strategist. “Follow my lead,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. Hotch stood up, stretching casually, his movements drawing subtle glances from the surrounding tables. He made it look effortless, but you knew it was all part of the act.

“I’m going to grab us another round,” he announced, loud enough for Peter to hear but casual enough to keep up the ruse. He glanced back at you, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “You want anything, Y/N?”

You caught on without missing a beat, slipping into character with practiced ease. “Yeah, I’ll come with you,” you said, shooting Peter a quick, reassuring smile. “Keep our spot warm, okay? We’ll be right back.”

Peter, engrossed in his latest story about a wild case from the past, barely glanced up as he waved you off, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the unfolding setup. As you and Hotch made your way toward the bar, you risked a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see the woman take her chance.

She moved quickly, sliding into the seat next to Peter with a confident smile, striking up a conversation as though she’d been waiting all night for this moment. Peter’s expression shifted from surprise to a genuine, pleased smile, his posture straightening as he turned his attention fully to her.

Hotch watched the scene unfold, his smile turning smug with satisfaction. “Another mission accomplished, partner” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet pride that mirrored your own. It wasn’t often you got to play matchmaker, but seeing Peter’s face light up made it all worthwhile.

You stifled a laugh, feeling the thrill of a plan executed perfectly. “I think he’ll thank us later,” you quipped, sharing a quick look with Hotch that was filled with conspiratorial delight. It was a simple moment, but one that cemented the bond between you.

Hotch returned with two glasses of whiskey in hand, the amber liquid catching the dim light as he handed one to you. He raised his glass, a playful glint in his eyes. “For love at first sight,” he toasted with a grin, the humor in his voice unmistakable.

You couldn’t resist adding your own cheeky touch. “And maybe to something a little more… physical happening tonight.” You clinked your glass against his, the sound crisp and satisfying, and took a sip, savoring both the taste and the success of your little scheme.

Just as you settled back, the familiar, haunting opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” began to play over the speakers, the dramatic chords filling the room with a nostalgic charge. The coincidence was surreal, almost eerie, and you both froze, exchanging a look of incredulous surprise, as if the universe was nudging you with a playful elbow.

“What are the odds?” you laughed, barely able to contain the mix of surprise and amusement bubbling up inside you. Hotch shook his head, smirking as he read your thoughts with ease.

“No,” he said firmly, though the smile playing at his lips betrayed his resolve. “I don’t think we’re going to do another show tonight.”

You leaned in closer, teasing him with a sparkle in your eyes. “Oh, come on, Hotch. Can you imagine the looks we’d get? It would be priceless. Plus, I bet drinks would be on me for the rest of the night.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his expression a blend of challenge and barely restrained laughter. “You don’t even have to ask me twice, then” he said, his voice low, filled with that familiar warmth and a hint of mischief that made your heart skip a beat.

Without another word, he set down his drink and extended his hand to you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of playfulness and something deeper, something that had been simmering between you for longer than either of you cared to admit. You hesitated for just a second, your gaze locked with his, before taking his hand, the contact sending a rush of exhilaration through you.

Hotch led you onto the dance floor, his grip firm but gentle, guiding you into position with a confidence that made it easy to fall into step. The music swelled, and suddenly it was just the two of you, surrounded by the soft glow of the lights and the muted conversations of the crowd. There was no case to focus on, no killers to catch, just you and Hotch, moving in sync to a song that seemed to echo every unspoken feeling between you.

His hand settled on your waist, his touch warm and steady, and you couldn’t help but lean into it, your body responding instinctively to his. Every spin, every step felt like a conversation without words, a silent dance of emotions that had been building between you for longer than you cared to admit. When he pulled you closer, his breath mingling with yours, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

As the final note of the song hung in the air and the applause continued, you found yourself still standing impossibly close to Hotch, your breaths mingling, his hand still warm against yours. There was something thrilling about the moment, something unspoken passing between the two of you as the crowd around you slowly came back into focus.

Hotch smirked, his gaze flicking briefly to the bar. “Well, I believe someone owes me at least two rounds of whiskey,” he said, his voice teasing yet still carrying that low, rough edge that made your heart skip a beat.

You chuckled, your chest still heaving slightly from the dance. “A deal’s a deal,” you replied, your own grin widening. “And I’m nothing if not a woman of my word.”

He let go of your hand reluctantly, the absence of his touch leaving a small void that you couldn’t quite ignore. But there was warmth in his eyes, that familiar sense of playfulness that had surprised you earlier in the night, and it softened the space between you. As the two of you made your way back to the bar, you glanced around, catching sight of Peter and the woman still deep in conversation. A small part of you felt a sense of satisfaction, your matchmaking mission had been a success.

Rossi, ever observant, caught your eye from across the room and raised his glass in a mock toast. You couldn't help but laugh under your breath, giving him a subtle nod in return. He’d undoubtedly have something to say about the impromptu performance on the dance floor.

As you approached the bar, Hotch leaned casually against it, his presence commanding even in the relaxed setting. He waved the bartender over and ordered two whiskeys, his expression calm but his eyes still gleaming with the aftereffects of your shared moment. You had seen him in so many different roles - coworker, partner, friend - but this side of him, lighter and more playful, felt like a rare gift you hadn’t quite expected.

“So,” Hotch began, turning toward you as the bartender placed the glasses in front of you both, “think the unsubs would’ve been impressed with that performance?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you lifted your glass. “They would’ve been running for their lives,” you quipped, taking a sip of the smooth whiskey. The warmth of it spread through you, mixing with the buzz of the evening. “You should see the way you move out there. If profiling doesn’t work out, I’m sure Broadway could use you.”

Hotch let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he lifted his own glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, his voice still low, but there was an unmistakable amusement in his eyes. “But I think we should leave the dancing to the professionals.”

You clinked your glass against his, grinning. “Agreed.”

Before you could say anything more, Rossi sauntered over, his trademark smirk firmly in place. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, swirling his drink in his hand as he looked between you and Hotch. “I never thought I’d see the day. You two make quite the pair on the dance floor. I’m starting to think we missed our chance to send you undercover at a ballroom competition.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get an invite.”

“Jealous?” Rossi feigned offense, his hand over his chest. “I’m just glad I got a front-row seat to the show.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

“Don’t worry, Rossi,” Hotch chimed in smoothly, his voice dry but full of that subtle humor you’d been seeing all night. “I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity. We’ll make sure you’re prepared next time.”

Rossi chuckled, clearly entertained. “I’ll hold you to that, Hotch. But next time, I expect a full routine, choreography and all.”

As Rossi took a swig of his drink, Peter wandered over, his face flushed with a combination of excitement and, likely, a couple of drinks. “Hey,” he said, slightly breathless, his eyes darting between you and Hotch. “That was… something. I didn’t know you two could move like that.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch, both of you trying to suppress smiles. “Just trying to keep things interesting,” you said lightly, noticing how Peter kept glancing back toward the woman he’d been talking to earlier.

Hotch, always perceptive, raised an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve had a good night yourself.”

Peter’s grin widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Yeah, actually. I’m kind of surprised, but… she’s great. I think we’re going to grab dinner next week.”

You felt a surge of satisfaction at that, knowing that your little matchmaking effort had paid off. “That’s great, Peter,” you said genuinely. “She seems like a good match for you.”

Peter beamed, clearly grateful, before excusing himself to rejoin her. As he left, you turned back to Hotch, the playful energy between you simmering just below the surface.

“Well, look at us,” you mused, swirling the remaining whiskey in your glass. “We’ve played matchmaker, stolen the show, and now I owe you drinks. I’d say tonight’s been a success.”

Hotch tilted his head, that familiar smirk making an appearance again. “Not to mention you’ve proven I can dance without stepping on your toes,” he teased.

You laughed, the sound genuine and light. “I’ll admit, you exceeded expectations. Though, if I remember correctly, you said something about ‘no promises.’”

He raised his glass in mock defeat. “Guilty.”

As the night began to wind down, the bar’s atmosphere softened around you, the conversations fading into a gentle hum beneath the dim glow of the hanging lights. You found yourself more at ease than you had been in a long time, just sitting here with Hotch, sharing drinks and easy laughter, without the shadow of a case looming overhead. And in those quiet minutes, you felt the undeniable bond that went beyond your roles as agents, reaching into something more personal, more real.

Hotch seemed to sense your thoughts, and he turned toward you, his expression softening in a way that was so rare for him—vulnerable, unguarded. “Thanks for tonight,” he said quietly, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “For playing along… and for everything else.” The weight of his words lingered, filled with unspoken appreciation for the comfort of your presence, both on and off the field.

The simple, heartfelt acknowledgment made your chest tighten with warmth, a feeling of closeness that was hard to describe. “Anytime, Hotch,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze and feeling that familiar rush of something deeper between you. “A philosopher I know once said, ‘partners on the job, partners on the dancefloor, and partners in crime.’”

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and genuine, his dimples making a rare appearance that you couldn’t help but adore. “I wonder who that wise man might be,” he mused, his tone playful and self-deprecating.

You grinned, leaning back in your chair, savoring the moment. “Oh, just the real advocate of the ‘Hegel for Dummies’ philosophical current,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “The man who’s mastered the art of the unholy trinity.”

Hotch chuckled, rolling his eyes but playing along effortlessly. “Ah, yes. The esteemed ‘Hegel for Dummies’ dialectics—a groundbreaking philosophy,” he said, putting on an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression that made you laugh. “It’s all about the triad, right? The unholy trinity: partners on the job, partners on the dancefloor, and partners in crime. A revolutionary approach to teamwork.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, enjoying the easy back-and-forth. It was moments like these that made you feel like you and Hotch were more than just friends, you were partners in every sense of the word, sharing in the lighter side of life that was often overshadowed by the darkness of your work.

As you sipped the last of your whiskey, a mischievous thought struck you, and you leaned closer to Hotch, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What do you say we sign Rossi up for the karaoke list? A little payback for all his teasing.”

Hotch’s eyes gleamed with delight, his smile widening at the suggestion. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said, his voice filled with that familiar blend of amusement and quiet mischief that you loved. “I’m sure he’s got a rendition of ‘My Way’ just waiting to be unleashed.”

The two of you moved with quiet stealth, slipping over to the karaoke sign-up sheet while Rossi was engrossed in conversation with a couple of admirers at the bar. You exchanged a quick, mischievous glance as Hotch scribbled Rossi’s name onto the list with a flourish, choosing the most dramatic ballad you could think of, something that would make Rossi’s grand, showman personality shine, but also give you and Hotch a much-needed laugh.

Rossi’s name was called moments later, and the surprised look on his face as he stepped up to the microphone was priceless. Hotch leaned in close, his arm brushing yours as you both watched Rossi take the stage. “This might be the best decision we’ve made all night,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, unable to keep the grin off your face as Rossi launched into a hilariously over-the-top performance, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic pauses that had the entire bar captivated, and you and Hotch doubled over in laughter.

It was the perfect end to an unexpected evening, a night that reminded you of the simple joy of being around people who knew you deeply and cared without question. And as you stood there beside Hotch, sharing in the moment, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the twists of fate that had brought you here, partners on the job, partners in crime, even if you always hoped for something even more.

[four-loose-screws]

FE6 Novelization Translation - Chapter 14 Section 6

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Chapter 14 - Breath of Fate (Section 6)

*Note: The 1st 13 chapters are FE7's novelization.

Rutger no longer remembered how many days had passed since he left his homeland of Sacae.

The passage of time held no meaning to him. No matter how many months or years it would take, he would have his revenge. That thought alone consumed the mercenary’s mind.

When Bern’s army invaded, Rutger fought in the city he was born and raised in, Bulgar, where the decisive battle between Bern and Sacae took place. It ended with him suffering serious wounds. He became unable to move, lying helplessly on the ground as a small group of Bern soldiers neared him.

‘So I’m going to return home to the earth here as well…’

He was ready to die, and waited quietly for his final moments. But the Bern soldiers did not deliver the final blow.

They passed him by. The reason why was all because of how he looked.

Bulgar was the closest city to the Sacae-Bern border, and the two countries had long shared a friendly relationship. It was not uncommon for a person from Sacae to marry someone from Bern, and there were many children of mixed blood between the two nations.

There was not a significant difference between the common features of people from Bern, Lycia, and Etruria, but people from Sacae looked very different. Many of them had black hair, smaller eyes, and slender faces. Their skin also tended to have a yellowish tint, making them easy to identify as from another country.

Rutger’s parents were both of mixed Bern and Sacaian blood. Typically, when people from Sacae had a child with someone from another nation, the child would share more features with full-blooded Sacaians. However, Rutger happened to grow up to look more like someone from Bern.

Those Bern soldiers could not bring themselves to kill someone with the same skin color and face shape as them. So they ignored him.

He narrowly escaped death, but his Sacaian pride was violently torn to shreds.

Though he did not look like them, his tribe accepted him as one of their own, and treated him no differently from anyone else. He never once in all his life questioned whether or not he was Sacaian. But ever since that day in Bulgar, a dark fire had been set ablaze in his heart.

For damaging his pride as a Sacaian, he would take down Bern.

After making that vow, he was hired by House Laus of Lycia, an enemy of Bern. Rutger did not know that the marquess was actually a turncoat working with Bern.

He made the decision to free the girl on a whim, having not a clue that General Narcian of Bern had his eyes set on her. And right now, it had completely disappeared from his mind that he had even saved her.

He was a mercenary on a battlefield. His only purpose was to cut open his enemies in his path.

He killed a cavalier standing in front of him with a single stroke of his sword, then started moving towards his next target. But it was the girl who appeared before him instead.

“Ah! Hey, you're…”

“What? You're still here?”

“What do you mean, “still?!” How dare you speak to me like that after throwing me out onto the middle of a battlefield! One mistake, and something terrible would have happened to me!”

Found by the Bern army pursuing her, she had galloped her horse as quickly as she could towards her target, Roy. She made it to him, and he was able to keep her safe. As an excuse to be able to stay with his army, she decided to participate in the battle as a healer.

However, that was just what she said aloud. Her true intention was to repay Rutger for saving her. To do so, she traveled to the front line looking for injured people, regardless of the danger to herself.

“Yeah, pretty lucky nothing terrible happened to you. Is that all you wanted me for?” He ended his conversation with the shouting girl, and started to leave.

However, she would not let him go so easily. “Just you wait! Do you really mean to abandon me and leave? Do as you should and take proper responsibility!”

“‘Responsibility?’ For what?”

“It is proper etiquette to guard a lady after saving her, and escort her to her mansion. That means it’s your duty! I’ve never heard any such story from a bard, where the savior abandons the lady halfway!”

“...What exactly are you talking about?” Rutger raised an eyebrow, not at all following her logic. 

She ignored him, and continued, “But regardless, the Laus army you’re fighting with are all cowards who betrayed their country for Bern! If you’re someone who would save a lady, then it would make the most sense for you to leave them and fight with me…” 

“Wait! Is that true?” His eyes widened as he cut her off.

His sudden shouting made Clarine stare back at him in shock. “Huh? What’s true?”

“That this army is fighting Bern!!”

“Um, yes. That’s what their commander Roy told me.”

“...Then it’s settled. I will fight with you. You don’t have any complaints about that, right?”

“Um, uh, I mean…”

His sudden mood swing left the girl speechless, while he turned his back to her and threw himself back into the battle. To slaughter the other mercenaries he had just called his allies…

So long as his contract was still active with Marquess Laus, this act was considered betrayal, the one wrongdoing that he should never commit as a mercenary, a fighter for hire that valued trust so highly. Up until now, he never would have done such a thing.

But things were different now. He did not care what damage was done to his pride as a mercenary. What mattered to him was taking back his pride as a Sacaian.

To do so, he did not care what else he had to sacrifice.

His sword in his hand, dripping with blood, made Clarine snap out of her speechlessness, and she puffed up her cheeks in anger. “Grr! You should be protecting me more than fighting them…!”

Her anger was very like her, self-centered and unreasonable.

ー

At the beginning of the battle, the Pherae army struggled, having been caught completely off guard.

But when General Marcus received Roy’s orders and threw himself into the enemy’s lines, it boosted the entire army’s morale. His cavalier unit was like a spike that stabbed into the body of the enemy army’s throat, and the units that followed further tore open that wound.

The Laus army started the fight by surrounding the Pherae army, but once that formation fell apart, they collapsed entirely.

Erik watched in fear as the Pherae army tore through his army’s circular formation and rushed towards him like an avalanche. 

“Someone! Anyone! Save me!” Because those words were all he could bring himself to utter, and he could not give his soldiers proper orders, their lines fell into complete disarray, and they all started running around in different directions. After that, their chain of command collapsed completely.

The final result was the Pherae army picking off each of Laus’ soldiers one-by-one, until all that was left was Erik and the main unit he commanded directly. He was helpless.

“Lord Erik! Your life is mine!!” Marcus’ sharp lance cut through the air, aimed at Erik’s chest.

It did not falter, stabbing straight through Erik’s armor and piercing his heart. “Gah…! Ugh… You’re all… fools…” He said as he glared at Marcus with infuriated eyes, and breathed his last.

ー

After capturing Laus Castle, Wolt gave Roy a report in front of the castle gate.

“Lord Roy! The Laus soldiers have stopped resisting.”

“They have? That’s good. Tell everyone to get some rest.” Roy ordered.

First there was the fight at Araphen, and now Laus… and there was still no time to waste. They had to go to Ostia as quickly as possible and combine forces with the Lycian army. In their fight against Bern, the Pherae army had not been granted any time to properly rest.

Ostia was located northwest of Laus, with Thria sandwiched between them.

Even with this victory, and the fact that they were one day closer to joining up with the Lycian army, Roy’s face was still just as clouded over as before.

Worried about his well-being, Guinivere said, “Lord Roy… are you alright?”

“...I cannot believe that Marquess Erik was working with Bern… I thought the unity within the Lycian League was as solid as stone. Is there no limit to the dirty tricks Bern will play…?!”

“...I apologize.”

“Ah… I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking about how you might feel…” Roy realized and immediately apologized himself.

The person having the most difficult time among them was her, fighting alongside the army opposing her homeland, and having to see with her own eyes the underhanded tactics her own brother was utilizing. Roy was embarrassed that he had so hastily voiced his own feelings.

“Don’t be… It’s only natural you would feel that way.”

“We will go west to Ostia from here. But Lord Hector is gone, and I can't rely on the remaining marquesses. I hate to say it, but… any hope of peace might be gone. Would you be able to return home, Princess? If you need any help, then-”

“If it does not trouble you, then please allow me to stay with you.”

“It's no trouble at all…! But why?”

So long as their chance of achieving peace was zero, Guinivere could not do what she came to Roy to do. She no longer had any reason to stay with his army.

And so, Roy asked her why she would stay with his army, wondering if there was another reason.

“...My brother is wrong to revive dragons and drag them into a human war… If that is the “liberation” of this world that he speaks of, then I want to stop him.”

“He wants to “liberate” the world?”

“Yes, it is all he talks about. He says he must liberate the world… And that is why he started this war.”

“What does he mean by that?”

“I do not know that much either… But my brother is not the kind of person who would wish to conquer the world. He must have another reason. But whatever it may be, it is no reason to start a war that has taken so many innocent lives…”

Guinivere’s expression as she spoke with her eyes looking down at her feet was so painful, it was hard to look at her.

Roy could not find any words to say, and fell silent.

He couldn't even begin to guess the reason why King Zephiel started the war. The only thing he was certain of was that his war was continuing to spread across the continent.

If it continued on for long, it would not be only those fighting who would suffer, but the powerless ordinary citizens, too.

Their houses would be burned down as the battles raged on, and the fields they poured their heart and soul into would turn to ash in an instant. Some would even be dug up and become mass graves for the dead.

Those who could not fight would hurt and suffer the most.

‘We must hurry to Ostia and regroup to fight against Bern…’ Roy rekindled the vow in his heart to halt Bern’s invasion as quickly as he could.

[farieshades]

*cackles*

Anyhow.

Do you belive Harry and Draco to be rivals? If so what do you think of their realtionship?

I believe that Harry and Draco were school-yard rivals, but the two work as foil characters. New to Magic, knows about magic; Raised poor, raised rich. And they work with and against eachother in their scenes. Draco, in the first few books appears cold, 'evil', and has elements of both fear and sadism when near Harry until later books when there are elements of protection and humanity to be seen. On the other hand, Harry is protective (usually of his friends and others, or his parents) and he is shown with a sense of justice, until, it somewhat flips on the head and there are elements of ruthlessness and fear amidst the love he shows others. However, considering how much Draco is mentioned in the books and how often fans write about/on him and his existence influences so much, Draco actualy isn't involved all that often in the books/film. He is mentioned far more than he is interacting, which makes analysis difficult. 

Below, I go year by year through encounters until actually answering this thought.

Pre-hogwarts

Draco comes from an affluent family of pure-bloods where he has been raised thinking certain types of wix are better than others. Rather, this is shown one of the first times we see him interact with Harry on the train/great hall, the whole “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment[...]You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” and the Iconic come back of “I think I can tell wh the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.” (pg 81 in my copy, Chapter 6) 

In the same scene he comments, sneering, at Ron’s dress and his lack of wealth. It sets him up as a rival from the moment Harry rejects his offer of friendship. Or, it starts earlier, at Diagon Alley when he comments on Hagrid through the window of the Madam Malkins where Harry responds to Draco’s ‘bored, drawling voice’ coldly (pg 59-61, Chapter 5). From the get go, there is a sense of unrest.

Most of this, I’m going to likely blame on upbringing, because Draco thinks himself superior because of his parents, he has certain thoughts in his head because of his parents, and he won’t question these beliefs for a long while. 

Harry does come from an affluent family, however, the Potter Wealth was more-or-less locked away from him until he entered the Wix world, [and it is unclear if Petunia was getting anything from them, but I do think its strange that Lily Potter would leave her sister with nothing considering the two seemed close up until the marriage to Vernon… Then again, most of the Potter Will was likely ignored anyway because Remus is also left with nothing and Sirius is thrown into prison which, you’d think the Potter Will would mention something about Godparent and Secret Keeper but who knows, they’re Wix, not the most logical sort] thus, grew up poor. Or, he did while the family he lived with had plenty of money. 

And in doing so, he grew up friendless because of his cousin chasing away anyone close to him. So, Harry is desperate to make friends. And in meeting Draco, he is strongly reminded of Dudley. Then, on the train/great hall, Draco insults Ron, the first ‘friendly’ boy he’s met so far. So in progression…. Harry is rescued from an awful house life by Hagrid who is instantly insulted by Draco, then Draco later insults, again, the first friendly face that helped Harry through the border (or well, Mrs. Weasley did.)

Before we move into first year, it should be mentioned that, of couse, Harry is a celebrity and while is not treated as such at school, most students have heard of him, or heard their parents talk about him or at the very least “Potters” in the ending of the Dark Lord and in ending the First War. Dobby says that he has heard much about Harry Potter (book 2) but at this point, he hasn’t been home for more than a month or so, so Dobby has, like most Wix children and thus most House Elves, been hearing about the ‘Greatness’ of Harry for a while now. 

First - Third year

First Year they get sorted into Slytherin and Gryffindor. Rival houses. There's not much change to relationships happening here. We get to see Draco snitching on Harry (getting them both in trouble), and then both putting up brave fronts when they go into the Forbidden forest, now the scene changes whether book or film if Harry is in the forest with Draco or with Hermione but, either way, not much happens in terms of strengthening relationship views one way or another.

Second year there's not much interaction of note to build off of. You get the quidditch scene when Dobby breaks Harry's arm after being taunted by Draco, and you get the fun Slytherin Dorms scene with "Saint Potter, the Mudblood's friend [...] he's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir"(pg.166, ch 12)  which, honestly, sounds more to the realm of general annoyance and jealousy almost. The Second year, however, is also when we get the duel, within which, it is clear they don't like each other because they quickly escalate from what they are instructed to do, which shows both feelings of hate early on in the series. 

In the third year, we get the iconic CoMC scene where the Slytherin's are a bunch of assholes 'playing' dementors. Which is cruel and annoying, but in an almost 'pay attention to me' type of way. Something that you might see in teasing someone about a fear you find silly like spiders (I say with arachnophobia),

Fourth Year

There is generalized hostility in the form of schoolyard bullying through these years. However, things take a sharp turn when we go into fourth year. We start with the Quidditch World Cup. In the books both Weasleys (+Harry, Hermione) and the Malfoys are sharing the Top Box area, the prime seating, within which "Draco shot Harry, Ron and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father" (pg 92, ch 8). However, in the movies the Weasleys have their seats in the 'Top' row of the entire stadium and Draco makes a boasting comment about being invited by the Minister. However, there is one missing scene in the films, and that is a very interesting one. 

> Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs Weasle. 

> 'Language, Weasley,' said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. 'Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?' He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them. 

> 'What's that supposed to mean?' Said Hermioned definitely. 

> 'Granger, they're after Muggles,' said Malfoy, [...] 'Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,' sneered Malfoy." (pg 110-111, ch 9) 

I note this, because, while it sounds mean, he has absolutely nothing to gain from telling them that there were people targetting muggles and muggle-borns. And, this isn't the first time he's helped. Nothing explicit to be sure, but years back now I did read a post from CoS in which Hermione would never tear a page from a book and what does Harry find when sitting next to the petrified Hermione? A torn page in her hand. Now, in the film, we also see one very specific scene that either shows Draco's lack of care on books as he tears off a page, or, potentially, something more helpful. But that's not quite something to do with the relationship building of fourth year, so we'll continue on. 

There's still the antagonism between the two, but it's still at a schoolyard level, with the example of "Potter Stinks" badges, however this does have the backing of an unfortunately large number of students showing disdain for Harry in the tournament. The next scene of interaction is, roughly, Ferret time in which Draco is initially insulting Harry and goes to curse him before being transformed by Barty Crouch, which I'm sure his father definitely heard about and did nothing about as well. 

Fifth Year

Fifth year is when things get... dangerous between the two. There is an unequal power dynamic as Draco and Pansy are made Prefect along with Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan (Hufflepuffs), Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger (Gryffindors), Padma Patil and  Anthony Goldstein (Ravenclaws). This was, according to Dumbledore, because Ron and Hermione would be able to protect Harry. 

This is also the year that will have an interesting scene reflected in the next, with Mrs. Weasley’s “He is just a boy” about Harry learning about the Order and their fight/protection of the prophecy, contrasting Narcissa’s “He’s just a boy” to Severus when making him swear to protect her son.

This was also the year of Umbitch and the D.A., which inevitably was discovered by Draco and his ‘friends’ and revealed to Umbridge. Now, theoretically, Draco did the right thing because it was an illegal school group. However, it was a school group that was teaching the class the teacher refused to teach, and Draco did this more out of spite because he didn’t like Potter than the fact that he was obeying school rules. 

This year, compared to the next, is rather light on Draco-Harry content and interactions.

Sixth Year

In Sixth year, things are heating up and not in a fun way as there is war brewing outside the doors of Hogwarts. This is when we see Draco take a darker turn as his father is thrown into Azkaban and he puts the blame soley onto Harry as he is tasked with the impossible of killing Dumbledore. We also get the train scene where Draco was ready to knock Harry out and send him back to London theoretically and out of school. In my head, there isn't a real reason for the act of agression outside of the snooping Harry was doing, an imobilizing curse and  a kick to the face can do some serious damage, but Draco's under lots of stress and anger and has also recently been marked by the Dark Lord. Not excusable, but somewhat understandable I suppose "Great Motive, still murder" vibes

This is also the book we learn of Horcruxes, souls broken beyond repair. We learn more of the Dark Lord's past and who he is, while the two boys are on opposite sides of the war. Harry following Dumbledore, doing what he can, and Draco following the Dark Lord, doing what he can. 

Sixth year is also the year of Sectumsempera. The spell was in the wonderful Advanced Potion-Making book that belonged to the Half-Blood prince, with no description of what it did, only the knowledge that it was "For Enemies," and while fighting in the bathroom, as Draco goes to use the Cruciatus curse Harry manages to cast first, causing long cuts across the body. Harry runs out of the scene as Snape fixes what had happened, seemingly shocked and with a definite feel of guilt. Neither boy at this time is a killer, nor do they want to be, but necessity is pushing them towards it. 

At the end of Sixth year, we get to learn that there is mortality of those that seem powerful and larger than life. Both devastating and hopeful. When Draco lets in the Death Eaters, the Order is called to fight back, and the scene is hectic. Both film and books go over it differently. But, generally, Draco is shown to be unable to kill Dumbledore and Harry is unable to get the instant desired revenge against the Death Eaters.

The Year on the Run

We don’t see Draco for most of the book, not until Fenrir and the Snatchers find them because they used the tabooed name of Voldemort. However, at the Manor, Draco saves Harry. Draco plays it off by saying something was wrong with the face, but there is the underlying idea that Draco did know who Harry was and that he refused to tell his family. A bid to save both Potter & friends, but also to end the war. 

And end the war it did. But not yet. 

The next time Harry and Draco are interacting they are in the Room of Requirement when Harry, in the film says, "Why didn't you tell her. Bellatrix. You knew it was me. But you didn't say anything." Draco doesn't respond. This is in reference to the above, but more then, it also potentially shows a side of Draco that we the audience hadn't seen. The humanity, the protectiveness. Or perhaps, the need to escape an awful situation and Harry being the only one believed to be able to stop the Dark Lord. Either way, it shows a sudden turn to the situation. More so, when Harry saves him from the Fiendfyre.

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?” The care of a mother, three times over, keeps Harry alive. This time, its Narcissa, who looks to the Dark Lord and lies to his face. 

Now, im going to include a deleted scene cause I find it hilarious and very fitting; The scene when Harry flings himself from Hagrids arms and amidst confusion, Draco throws himself across the courtyard handing him a wand to use. Deleted, yes, but still also very telling in a way, as to how the relationship has shifted in these last few months. 

Then, the battle is over. People count their dead. The Malfoys have vanished from the courtyard having not stayed for the actual battle supposedly. And, Harry is victorious. 

Fanon Eighth Year

There are many takes on Eighth year, but generally there is an idea that should the Golden Trio return, Draco might as well, despite his allegiance to the Dark in the past. 

Some authors have him sent to Azkaban for the summer between and being watched as he finished his final year on probation. Other authors have the Malfoy Money bribing or claimed imperius for Draco to the Ministry officials and so that they get off scotch-free. 

Personally, should Draco return, there would be a distinct shift in the hostility. Those who were crucio’d by the Carrows probably aren’t liking anyone who was a Death Eater. The “Lip-lock jinx” By: Cassis Luna on Ffnet showed it nicely with Draco generally avoiding people and slight harassment towards him. But there are plenty of other eighth year fics that do differently. My own “Hello, Hogwarts too?” has Draco more given freedoms, a bit of a prick still, but not awful.  To each their own on eighth year interpretation really. 

Post-Hogwarts Canon

Nineteen years later. The only reference to Draco in this section is that he has a wife and son, Scorpius, that resembles Draco just as much as Albus Potter resembles Harry. Oh, and he has a receding hairline. And the only interaction is “Draco caught sight of [them] staring at him, nodded curtly and turned away again” which isn’t much to go on. 

Summary

The Post-Hogwarts Fanon is wide and immense and we’re not getting into that cause each author has their own thoughts. 

But -

Do I believe Harry and Draco to be rivals? 

Somewhat. They were during their schooling years. But after Hogwarts, things appear to have changed. It’s also possible that there is similarity in the work environment as Harry likely went on to be an auror as he intended and Draco seemed to be heading into government work. Of course, jobs could take them anywhere and who knows, maybe Harry is a curse breaker or a researcher. Maybe Draco is a healer or a potions master. Too many options to consider as they grow. 

What do I think of their relationship? 

From what is shown in the books/film, they are often pitted against eachother deliberately, and shown as foils of eachother. There isn’t much to go off of if I’m honest, lots of fight scenes and bullying, but also some shared horror and shared competition. Drarry is one of the ships I do prefer in the series, more so when we have either a Creature Inheritance and/or Slytherin!Harry and/or Gryffindor Harry but Dumbledore Bashing/Good Dark Side. The relationship really develops in fanfics rather than the actual series itself. From the ‘lore’ of the written works, that is a dangerous/toxic relationship if they were considered partners or friends. Their relationship in the books is that of enemies. “Arch-enemy” (though he is 12 at the time) as I do believe Harry comments at one point despite having literal Voldemort to contend with, but then, Harry is a dramatic Gryffindor. So… take that with a grain of salt I suppose. 

[aarongoldenwrites]

Warden Elissa “Sparrow” Cousland, Chapter 3: Alistair

Elissa has had two experiences with mages at this point in her life: the time that they healed her, and the time the templars told her not to talk with the mages maybe an hour before this moment. She likes mages and is curious about magic – the fear she had driven into her as a child has been questioned since she lost her faith in the Chantry when she lived on the streets of Denerim, and she's distrustful of Templars in general.

So Alistair making fun of mages but treating them like people while also making it clear that he likes them over the Templars or the Chantry? This was a good, if complicated, first impression.

Alistair came across as funny and a little hurt. Both of them were shy trying to figure one another out, but they were also quickly cracking jokes with one another about a wide variety of topics. The two were fast friends, which makes what happened later all the more tragic.

There are some that speculate that Alistair kept using lyrium to use the skills he used in his Templar training, which flies in the face of a simple truth: Alistair was taken from the Templar order before they could give him his first dose of lyrium. Nonetheless, he can use Templar skills as if he were on the dust, leading to speculation that he was obtaining lyrium illegally from somewhere.

The truth is much stranger.

Sparrow and Alistair would eventually reclaim a place called Soldier's Peak, a largely abandoned Warden fortress, and would plan much of her campaign against Logain and the Blight from there. Among the wreckage was found a mage named Avernus, an old Warden who had been researching ways to distill and expand the benefits granted by the Joining.

Carefully (very carefully) collected research secretly obtained from Avernus revealed that the taint was able to take the place of lyrium when it came to powering Alistair's anti-magic capabilities. Further research revealed that Alistair's bloodline had been further altered in the distant past by some unknown process, granting him powers beyond mere humans or even other Wardens.

Alistair and Elissa famously had something of an affair that started and Lothering and ended sometime after events in Redcliffe. Elissa went off to Orzammar and left Alistair to handle things at Soldier's Peak, with the given reason at the time being that they did not want to keep both surviving Wardens in one location; the truth, however, appears to be that the two needed time away from one another.

Alistair spent this time rebuilding a lot of his noble ties. His heroic actions at Redcliffe and Haven percolated through the Redcliffe knights, and the secret of his birthright began to move through the men – the story of a secret prince galvanized the forces of Redcliffe, and the Arl of Recliffe was more than comfortable to take advantage of Alistair's heritage.

The question that neither Elissa or Alistair have ever answered is what caused the break-up between the two. They remained and remain friends, and were still joking with one another as early as their return to Denerim. Alistair was furious when Elissa effectively forced him to become king, and paid her back by giving her Vigil's Keep – but this was the sort of fury that comes up between close friends poking at one another, and it is well documented that both have come close to dying for one another and that both are in frequent friendly contact with the other.

This becomes more complex when taking into account Alistair's relationship with his half-sister, Goldana. To say that their tie is strained would be an understatement. She took money from him during the Blight but wanted nothing to do with him after that, but his ascent to the throne forced her to accept a royal title and lands in order to keep her safe. The two of them do not speak to one another, though Alistair is known to dote on her children as much as he is able and she allows. She was given a respectable stipend near Highever under Fergus, who recognized her five children and had them properly educated. She married into the knighthood following the Blight, but she and Alistair never reconciled and their relationship was never more than strained. 

(It is believed that Leliana and Anora once went to have a private chat with Goldana, which led to her not insulting Alistair nearly so much and being kinder to him whenever he was forced to visit Highever. The truth of this meeting may never be known, but it is known that someone matching Leliana's description once visited Goldana's laundry in the dead of night, and that Anora once demanded Goldana's presence in her private chambers. Whatever was discussed remains between the three of them.)  

Anora and Alistair's relationship was and is complicated. Alistair had many traits in common with his brother, Cailin, though his good nature and sense of humor were tempered by his treatment as a child. Alistair was more grounded and realistic than his brother, and much more aware of his faults. Anora loved Cailin, and Alistair's similarities to her dead husband were initially a stumbling block between her and the new king. Over the early months of their relationship, however, Anora came to appreciate the maturity that Alistair had over his older sibling, and the two went from mutual respect to friendly and finally did fall in love. Alistair's sense of humor softened Anora somewhat, and Anora's grasp of politics proved a good bar for Alistair to reach to.

They had three children together: eldest daughter Maris, middle child Logain, and youngest son Cailin. Alistair was a doting father who arranged blind fosterages at Highever, Vigil's Keep, and Redcliffe for his kids.  

Secretly, Alistair did have one child out of wedlock: before the battle with the Archdemon, it is rumored that he and Elissa spent the evening with Morrigan at the Witch of the Wild's insistence. Morrigan was later with child, and it is believed that child was Alistair's but that Alistair had nothing to do with the boy's upbringing.

Much later, Alistair and Morrigan met up again at Skyhold during the height of the new Inquisition. Alistair had a chance to meet the boy but did not reveal his identity at Morrigan's request. While their antagonism was well known during the Fifth Blight, Morrigan came as close as she ever could to apologizing to Alistair, telling him that she had told their child that his father was “a good man.” Morrigan also promised that their child would never take the throne, and that she was trying to be a better parent than her mother. Alistair is known to have commented that this did not set the bar especially high.  

Of note, Elissa and Alistair met the pirate Isabella in Denerim during the Fifth Blight. It is known that Alistair spent some small amount of private time with them both. The details of what they are doing are mostly private, though Leliana has let slip that it was during this time that Elissa markedly improved in swordplay. Aside from this, Alistair accompanied Elissa to Soldier's Peak, the Lake Calahad Tower, Redcliffe, Denerim, Haven, Oste.gar, and into the final battle with the Archdemon.

It was at Ostegar that Elissa, Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana gave King Cailan a proper cremation and reclaimed the weapons and armor of the fallen king and the Warden, Duncan. They also retrieved the goblet allowing for the creation of more Wardens, though they did not make any more Wardens during the Fifth Blight (it is believed that neither knew how to alter the darkspawn blood properly at that time, though they would both learn the rites later).

When Alistair staked his claim to the throne of Fereldan, he started using Cailan's armor (modified by the smith, Wade), and using Duncan's sword and Cailin's shield. It's rumored that some believed that he was Cailan returned from the dead upon first seeing him, a thing that made Alistair distinctly uncomfortable but that the Arl of Redcliffe was happy to play upon. The armor was set aside after the Fifth Blight and is kept in a private collection that owned solely by Anora.    

[chosonore]

part two | yearning

yearning [noun. a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 8.2k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, somewhat suggestive, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re somewhat following the timeline of the anime/manga so spoilers ahead!! but what follows afterwards is purely pulled out of my ass lol, lowercase intended [UNEDITED]

a/n: hello, here i am again with a super long chapter ( ˙꒳​˙ ) it is so incredibly messy and i’m so sorry if it gets confusing for you; this just really shows how sporadic my writing process is, i have some guidelines that i follow but sometimes venture off my path when i suddenly get a new idea. nevertheless, i hope you can somewhat enjoy this chapter. feedback or just your thoughts are much appreciated! for those that are waiting for the ~steamy~ content, it is coming next chapter hehe. as always, stay safe everyone (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

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"noritoshi, could you just stay quiet today? i'm really not in the mood," you sighed as you entered the training grounds. the exhaustion from the mission the day before was clinging onto your bones, heavy and admonishingly. the normally exciting sparring lessons seemed dreadful, knowing that all students were to practice today. to practice the balance within the team, utahime had claimed the week prior as she was reprimanding your lack of discipline when it came to noritoshi. stubbornness ran in the family; you refused to back down when someone was hurting your pride. said stubbornness came back to bite you - instead of taking a break to fully recover, you claimed that you would be fine with the help of your reverse curse techniques.

as the days came and went, the yearly tournament slowly approached. after the devastating defeat last year, everyone was on edge and determined to beat tokyo tech. well, that excluded todo, he was just looking for stronger opponents it seemed. noritoshi, on other hand, appeared to be more agitated than usual - if he wasn't barking orders at the other students, he would criticize their fighting styles. you knew he wanted to win the tournament at all costs, to prove himself worthy of the position as the kamo clan head. but he was too rigid about it, rarely accepting help and haughty when questioned. you've been avoiding him as best as you could and of all days, today had to be one where you could not. opponents would be swapped every ten minutes so everyone could practice with another student - facing noritoshi for ten minutes was easy. so you thought. 

"can't promise anything, princess," noritoshi retorted smugly and pat your head like he usually did when he was trying to get a reaction out of you. life always found a way to prove you wrong. for some reason, noritoshi had made it his goal to get under your skin as much as possible on this particular day and it worked. it was childish to engage in this banter but you couldn’t help it. the feeling of not being taken serious by noritoshi had always bothered you. it almost seemed like he wasn’t considering you equal to him, always looking down on you. being stressed wasn’t good, your mother had always reminded you, so it was best to remain calm and collected.

stay calm and collected, calm and collected, you repeated in your head. gritting your teeth, you slapped his hand away and jogged away from him towards todo. at least he'd leave you alone while you were near todo - probably to avoid todo getting mad at him and not wanting to hear about takada-chan again. he was the ultimate and fool-proof shield. the taller male was walking at a leisurely pace in front of you, leading the group as per usual. you caught up to him, slowing down so it didn't look like you just jogged all the way here. away from the menace that was noritoshi. todo glanced at you suspiciously before subtly turning around. a guilty groan left your lips. of course he knew, he always knew. as the unlikely friendship was blossoming between the two of you, you rapidly realized that todo was far more perceptive than he would ever let on. even though he took lighthearted jabs at you, he didn't care enough to intervene; it was a mutual understanding. in a way, you appreciated that he treated you like everyone else, not once had he tried to approach you about your deteriorating relationship with noritoshi.

upon seeing the unlikely pair, miwa speed up as well to join them. even though todo scared her to no end, your presence eased her nerves a little. after all, you weren’t scared to put him back in his place when he was being dramatic. she nudged you gently in greeting, nervously clasping her sword in front of her. "do you think we'll win this year's competition? we've been training a lot, so i hope i can show off some of my skills."

"never say never? even if we lose, it's a good experience to learn from," you replied wryly. while the students of the kyoto tech were strong and coordinated well with each other, noritoshi and you could easily destroy the balance. he didn't know when to stop, persistently pushing your boundaries and you fell for his tricks every time. as long as you could work out a strategy that involved working alone or with a partner that was not him, you'd be fine. your safest bet was to work with miwa since you were both sword users and have practiced together extensively. if noritoshi and you exhibited enough chaos to tear the world apart, miwa and you represented the perfect balance when fighting.

"you're our secret weapon though!" miwa exclaimed excitedly, elbowing you gently. "no one knows you can heal, so we'll use that to our advantage."

"uh…"

"what? don't tell me you-"

"i've asked yuta about advice before," you interrupted her, scratching your head sheepishly. "he's one of the very few people who can use reverse cursed techniques, so i asked him to give me some pointers and how to use it more to my advantage."

when yuta participated in the competition the year before, you were absolutely mesmerized by his level of skills and how he had supposedly mastered them in such a short amount of time. of course you hadn't told anyone that you were talking to him - everyone was still salty about the defeat and would, undoubtedly, have crucified you on sight. truthfully, you didn't understand why everyone was so hellbent about hating the students of your sister school. weren't you all colleagues in a sense? yuta was nice and respectful towards you, always trying his best to explain you how to implement his tips. along the way, you might have developed a tiny, fleeting crush on him but never acted on it. it was only a crush after all and you didn’t feel certain about it not being a mere distraction from your feelings for noritoshi. perhaps it was the way he made you feel, the way he treated you like noritoshi used to before. you couldn't even deny it, you missed your old 'toshi. when you looked at him now, it hurt you, seeing all the traces of gentleness having left him.

"really? you never told me! what is he like? he looked like he was really nice but there were moments where i was really scared of him. well maybe not him but rather… that curse."

"uh, yuta is actually not that scary. he's really helpful and always there for you when you need advice. i think i've improved a lot since we've started talking." you made a mental note to thank yuta again if you got to see each other anytime soon. apparently, gojo had sent him on a mission overseas a few months back and ever since, your exchanged messages grew to be rather sporadic. still, you appreciated that he made an effort to text you every now and then to let you know how he was doing and in turn, also asked about your wellbeing.

"fraternizing with the enemy, i see," noritoshi's voice rang out beside you, dangerously close to your ear. it made you jump in surprise, not having sensed him earlier - your hand automatically shot out to hit him, only for him to catch it in time. you shot him an annoyed glare. beside you, miwa and todo glanced at each other, silently agreeing to ignore the squarreling pair.

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it is if it jeopardizes our chance at winning," noritoshi narrowed eyes at you in suspicion. of course he didn't trust you, you were nothing but a mild inconvenience to him. you didn't owe him an explanation, not today and not in the future. any friendship or friendliness between you was long gone. refusing to look into his eyes, you attempted to tug your hand away from him but instead accomplished the exact opposite as noritosh tightened his grip. "what did you tell him?"

"he only helped me with training, that's all! it doesn't concern you anyways so-"

noritoshi was irritated, you could tell. the anger was rolling off him in waves, intimidating even you. why was he so annoyed by the fact that you asked yuta for advice? it wasn't even farfetched - the only other alternatives were gojo and ieiri, both of which you hadn't mustered up the courage to ask yet. wasn't it in everyone's best interest for you to become a great healer? noritoshi would know best - he was the driving force behind your ambition, the sole reason why you worked to the brink of exhaustion just to show him that you didn’t need his help, that you were worthy of a higher rank.

"i don't want you to hang out with the tokyo tech kids, especially not with him."

"wait, what?" you gaped at him in disbelief. "is this just because you have personal beef with some of them? leave me out of this, i just want to improve and you don't get to tell me what to do." with that you shoved the taller male, stomping past the other students towards utahime who was looking at you in disapproval. you missed the upset frown on noritoshi's face as he followed you, wanting to reach out but stopping midway. it wasn't the right time or place to let you know why he didn't want you around them, not yet. seeing you hang out and being relaxed with everyone else but him hurt him, oh how it hurt him. he wanted you close to him, only see him, talk about him excitedly and with stars in your eyes like you did when you talked about yuta. and yet, he couldn't let you know. the only way to keep you orbiting around him was to play these silly games, rile you up and drawing a reaction out of you. it was the only way to make you pay attention to him. and so he did.

calm and collected, my ass, you thought two hours later. of course todo and noritoshi had completely eviscerated the rest of the students with no mercy, leaving everyone in a sour mood. whatever strategy your team would have for the tournament was probably thrown out the window, the two of them would take care of it anyways. not that they would stand a chance against yuta.

“yuta isn’t here?” the disappointment in your voice was palpable. you did look forward to meeting yuta again, thinking that he might have come home from his overseas trip for the tournament. but you supposed getting to know the other students wasn’t too bad, you were interested in the first years and their skills. they certainly looked more approachable than your classmates. miwa told you how todo and mai had met two of them a few weeks prior and promptly started a senseless fight that was then stopped by the second years. it landed them in the water as utahime gave them a lecture - while she didn't tolerate the childish behaviour, everyone else seemed to turn a blind eye to it. noritoshi had scoffed in disapproval upon hearing the news, uttering something about not wanting to associate with dimwits like them. 

"nope, he's still overseas. it doesn't matter anyways, we'll still beat you without him," maki replied with a confident grin, arms crossed as she took in the kyoto tech group of students. regardless, you broke out in a sprint and jumped, engulfing her in a warm hug. while you two didn't talk as much as yuta and you did, you were still friends. she was a source of inspiration to you, a master of all kinds of weapons whom you deeply admired. maki gave you some awkward pats before pulling away to introduce you to the first years - megumi, yuji and nobara. the younger students were wary of you, most likely because of their encounter with todo and mai. you couldn't hold it against them, their intensity and stubbornness was something you had to deal with daily after all. you silently cursed the two brash students before taking a deep breath and extending your hand to the ones in front of you.

“hi, i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself with a friendly smile, visibly relieved when they shook your hand and introduced themselves. especially nobara seemed to be eager to get to know you, fussing over your uniform and inquiring about your skills. you were glad they welcomed you, not wanting to cause any more trouble than would undoubtedly arise for the duration of the tournament. while megumi seemed to be cautious and more reserved around you, yuuji and nobara already treated you like their friend. subconsciously, you envied them for the wholesome friendship dynamic as it reminded you of what you used to have with noritoshi. the fleeting thoughts left as soon as they made an appearance in your head, disappearing when nobara grasped your hand and pulled you towards the buildings to show you around. unbothered by the reactions of your fellow kyoto tech classmates, you followed her - their energy was stifling and the tournament didn't start until later in the day anyways. it was useless to stay with your group and practice, you'd only overexert yourself.

“y/n.” noritoshi called after you sternly, glaring at you when you turned to look at him - ever since stepping foot into the estate, he was moody and more serious than usual.  it was probably him being tense about the tournament, the spirit to win deeply ingrained in his bones. none of the other students seemed to be bothered by the presence of the tokyo tech students, so why should he? ignoring him, you continued your journey until you felt a force harshly pulling you back by the fabric of your hoodie. intuitively, you could tell it was noritoshi. 

"noritoshi, let me go," you snapped at him irritated, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

"we have things to discuss, did you forget that?"

"i don't want to," like a petulant child, you gave him an angry look as you stood your ground. tension filled the space between you, tethering on the edge of anger. why was a normal conversation never possible with him? and why did he treat you like a child? you let up when megumi appeared to your side, shooting noritoshi a warning glance as he attempted to remove his hand from yours. even though he didn't know what your relationship was like, he stepped in regardless - you were impressed by him. even if noritoshi remained calm, he was a menace to deal with afterwards.

"she said no, didn't you hear-"

"get your hands off of her." noritoshi growled at megumi, the sudden influx of cursed energy that was surrounding him made all students in close proximity freeze. you couldn't hide you shock either, he had never been this threatening towards someone else. he might push boundaries to the extreme, knowing that he could away with it due to his bloodline and family name but he had never outright threatened anyone that didn't do his bidding. with those words he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively. paralyzed, you blankly stared at him. his cursed energy was suffocating you, never had you experienced this amount of pressure. not only that, the unusual closeness set your heart ablaze, burning down the walls that you'd carefully constructed around it.

"you're being ridiculous," megumi challenged the older male, unbothered by the strong pressure. he didn't understand why noritoshi was making a big deal out of this. surely he didn't consider megumi a threat? noritoshi's hold on you strengthened and with panic you realized the blood-red markings appearing on his face, he was being serious, oh god he was going to rip megumi apart-

"hey hey, stop it you two," panda's voice snapped you out of your trance and seemingly noritoshi's as well as he wacked his arm. "you just got here and you're already stirring up trouble, are you not ashamed?"

noritoshi simply scoffed and let you go, his cursed energy dissipating with the movement. the rest of the students were as stunned as you were, no one daring to make another move until the tension evaporated. todo was the only one who looked rather annoyed, smacking the back of noritoshi’s head as he started to tell him off - noritoshi, however, kept walking past him towards the dorms that they were staying at for the week. it was almost like there was steam coming off his head as a result of holding his anger in. nobara gaped at you in surprise, pointing at you accusingly. “i didn’t know that was your boyfriend!”

you spluttered in horror, quickly reaching out to her to try and cover her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. “n- no you got it wrong! we’re not together, not at all! i hate noritoshi,” you floundered, hastily trying to set the record straight. nobara didn’t look like she believed you, pushing your hands away while giggling. she wiggled her eyebrows at you, whispering at you about how lucky you were to snag such a handsome guy although she thought that he really didn’t have to overreact like that because megumi was harmless. covering your face in embarrassment, you turned away from her and caught a glimpse of an amused todo winking at you.

“i’m serious, nobara!" whatever whining you did, the two of them didn’t let up, making you wonder what you ever did wrong to deserve this scrutiny. as your last resort you grabbed nobara's hand, dragging her along towards a secluded area in the estate. being the subject of the earlier conflict was already troubling enough, you didn't want the other students to get the wrong idea by her wild speculations. nobara was still giggling when you arrived, pinching your arm playfully.

“c’mon, it’s impossible that there is not something between you! did you see the look on his face? i don’t think he would have cared had it been any other person,” she gushed excitedly, her face lighting up in glee. with no doubt, nobara enjoyed poking her nose in other people's business, seemingly having a knack for sniffing out the hidden. a dejected sigh left your lip. a younger you would have jumped in happiness after finally receiving noritoshi's attention but the present you knew better. there wasn't more to it, you told yourself and yet, a tiny sliver of doubt made its way into your mind. could he really have been so bothered by another male being so close to you? todo didn't count, obviously.

"no, there's nothing to it, i promise. we don't have the best relationship anymore and mostly fight. i mean yeah his reaction was really uncharacteristic but…"

"anymore?"

"noritoshi and me grew up together and were childhood friends. i- i didn't agree with his antics as we grew up and we drifted apart after that and now… hate each other? he’s just unbearable and we don’t get along. everyone at kyoto tech knows that so they’re mostly ignoring our fights. and it’s childish, i know, i know..." 

“are you sure? like super duper sure? because it didn’t look like it to me,” nobara contemplatively rubbed her chin. the wheels were turning in her head, something didn’t quite add up. even at first glance, whatever you said made her feel doubtful.

“trust me, i wish it was different too. i mean i used to like him a lot and it makes me sad and i wish we could at least be civil around each other. but he just makes me so angry,” your ramblings stopped nobara’s thinking - so that’s what it was. normally, nobara really didn’t care about other people’s business but this was too juicy to pass up. how far could she push it to make you realize?

why was the layout of all these buildings so confusing? and why were there so many buildings to begin with? you’ve been wandering around for at least five minutes now and you still couldn’t figure out where the hell yuji’s and megumi’s rooms were supposed to be. they didn’t even have any signs around. at this point, it didn’t matter if it took longer than anticipated - the others could wait. nobara had insisted on having a small get together the night before, to get to know each other and play some card games. you couldn’t refuse, it’s been a while since you just hung out with friends without any quarreling. there was no harm in getting to know you future colleagues, even though your classmates were treating them like criminals. so instead of going herself and much to your dismay, nobara had sent you to fetch the other two students, claiming that you would be fine if you just stuck to the measly sketch she’d made for you. most of the rooms you’ve already knocked at remained empty so you couldn’t be far from their rooms, you concluded.

stopping in front of the last remaining door of the corridor, you took a deep breath. this had to be one of their rooms. slowly, you raised your hand to knock at the door when it was suddenly yanked open, startling you in the process and making you drop the piece of paper you were holding. what you weren’t expecting was coming face to face with noritoshi who looked at you as equally confused. he was the last person you wanted to see today, not wanting to confront him about his actions earlier. you couldn’t wrap your head around it; why had he overreacted in such a way? it wasn’t like you were in danger or in need of protection. for a brief moment, you thought that there was a sliver of strange possessiveness. you couldn’t quite place the emotions in his eyes, it made you shudder.

“oh uh, sorry. i was looking for yuji and megumi and this is very obviously not one of their rooms. sorry again. i’ll take my leave,” you awkwardly stammered, taking a step back. noritoshi’s figure was towering over you and in a rare moment, you felt intimidated by him. perhaps it was the dark look in his eyes that told you that he was not thrilled by what you just told him. before you could react, he swiftly grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his room, trapping you against the door.

“w- wait!” you protested weakly, pushing at his chest until his face slowly came into your vision. you couldn’t help but stare at his lips, watching them move as he was talking to you. your ears were ringing, you couldn’t tell what he was saying. the close proximity was suffocating and yet you craved more, not wanting to let him go.

“y/n? did you hear me?” 

“huh?” snapping out of your trance, you looked at him dumbfounded. noritoshi was frowning at you, slightly concerned about your state as you didn’t answer him. just then you finally got a proper look at him. it was a rare sight; noritoshi wearing casual clothes, a simple oversized shirt and shorts, and his hair down without the bindings. feeling nostalgic, your heart clenched. he looked like his old self, the ‘toshi that you loved dearly.

“i said, i don’t want you around them. i don’t- i don’t like seeing you with them,” noritoshi repeated with a strained voice. he placed his hands beside your head, inching closer to you.

“what- noritoshi, you don’t get to tell me who i can hang out with! last time i checked, we’re not even friends anymore so where do you get the idea that you can do this? what’s the big deal ab-” you didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pressed his lips against yours clumsily. you seized up in shock, not returning the kiss as a whirlwind of thoughts entered your mind. holy shit, he was really kissing you. but you hated each other, so why? why, why, why. when you didn’t respond, noritoshi pulled away in panic, spluttering apologies as he moved away from you. your emotional world was in chaos, all the buried and forgotten feelings for him breaking the dams and flooding your senses until the yearning became too much. you were reminded of the conversation you had with your mother years ago - you still wanted him, missed him. you wanted him by your side. desperately, you reached out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as you leaned up to kiss him. noritoshi caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you as he fervently returned the kiss. he was holding you like he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air, frantically pulling you in. his hands were roaming, discovering the expanse of your body.

his touches left you feeling delirious, high on pleasure. a mewl left your lips, pleading him for something, for more. your hands moved higher, feeling his chest and broad shoulders before you wrapped your arms around his neck. his name left your lips in breathy sighs as he peppered kisses down your jaw, pulling the collar of your shirt to the side to gain more access to the expanse of your neck. suddenly, you were hoisted up and pressed against the door as noritoshi held you by your thighs. you struggled to wrap your legs around his waist, to distracted by his relentless ministrations. by the time he's left multiple hickeys on your neck, you were whimpering mess. noritoshi's breath was taken away at the sight of you in his arms, lips swollen from the kisses, the glossy eyes, dishevelled hair and the hickeys that were slowly becoming more visible. he couldn't understand how carelessly you were letting him proceed when you supposedly harboured a strong dislike for him. nevertheless, he enjoyed it and wanted to savour the moment, ingrain it into his memory so he'd never forget why he was treating you like a nuisance.

a loud knock resounded from the door, followed by someone shouting: "noritoshi? has y/n been here?"

out of sheer shock, you shoved noritoshi away from you and nearly fell as you attempted to detangle yourself from him. he caught you in time, signalling you to stay quiet as the person outside was still shuffling around nervously. you slumped against him limply, letting your head rest against his chest. his heart was beating erratically. it made yours fill with pride as you could tell that you had the same effect on him as he did on you. still, the precarious situation suddenly dawned on you - you'd just made out with your sworn enemy and, yes you used to have a crush on him, enjoyed it very much. and by the looks of it, he would have continued if you hadn't pushed him away. the entire ordeal greatly confused you; was noritoshi just playing around with you? it couldn't be, he had initiated it after all. the cold treatment he usually gave you didn't match with his actions just now. you couldn't get close to him, not when he gave you mixed signals. you wanted someone who cherished you and was always sincere so you wouldn't have to second guess their actions.

"huh, i guess noritoshi's already sleeping. we'll have to check somewhere else, i hope she didn't get lost," the person outside mumbled as you stayed silent. the sound of shuffling was heard, then steps away from the room. you stayed put until you were sure they were gone and gently removed yourself from noritoshi's grip, not looking him in the eyes. he didn’t move, letting you go willingly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what came over me,” you apologized with a pained voice. “please forget that it ever happened and uhm, please don’t tell anyone.”

noritoshi’s eyes widened at your pleas, moving to stop you from leaving so he could explain himself to you. “y/n, wait, i can ex-”

hastily, you stumbled to open the door, dashing away from him until the building was out of your sight. you poorly hid behind a tree, sinking to your knees as you buried your face in your hands. what the hell. you just made out with your childhood friend turned enemy. your buried feelings were all over the place and your mind just couldn’t stay still. it messed with your outlook as well as your image of noritoshi, distorting and twisting it until you had to rethink your relationship. maybe all this time, you subconsciously hoped that he would return back to his old self and somehow give you an explanation. never having received closure on the end of your friendship, you would even forgive him for the sake of your relationship. were you this shallow? no, you simply harboured a lot of feelings for him. you weren’t able to tell what his thought process was - was he even interested in you? did he see you like that?

“there you are,” you lifted your head to see gojo walking towards you with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his pants. you almost didn’t recognize him as he simply wore a pair of sunglasses and let his hair down. “the others are looking for you. what are you doing out here? trouble in paradise?”

“n-no! i just needed some time away from everyone to- to catch my breath,” you exclaimed indignantly and perhaps too hastily you realized when gojo smirked at you knowingly. why did everyone assume that there was anything between noritoshi and you? was it that obvious?

“uh huh. that’s not what your neck says,” gojo pointed out while wiggling his eyebrows and offered you a hand to stand up. “he really doesn’t like any competition.”

“fuck,” you cursed quietly, covering the hickeys with one hand while taking gojo’s with your other and pulling yourself up. it was embarrassing enough to meet one of the teachers like this but it was even more embarrassing to know that your teacher had seen the aftermath of your makeout session. 

“i’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re concerned about. although it would certainly be funny to tease little noritoshi,” gojo was giggling and you knew he was greatly amused by the entire situation. it almost reminded you of nobara. you groaned in frustration as you trailed behind him towards the girls’ dorms. you needed to hide your neck so no one would question it or grill you until you confessed; the potential embarrassment was mortifying.

your group strategy was already falling apart when todo suddenly disappeared in the depths of the forest, not caring about your teamwork in the slightest. normally, it would frustrate you a lot more if you weren’t already preoccupied with your own troubles. todo would be fine anyways, the remaining group members could work on a strategy on their own. as mechamaru and mai were discussing, you shot a glance at noritoshi. he looked as deadpan as usual, probably not listening to the discussion as he worked better on his own and it was more or less decided that mechamaru and him would be moving on their own while the others would team up. otherwise, you couldn’t tell whether he was bothered by what had transpired between you the night before. on the contrary, he looked calm and composed, probably more focused on his goal than anything else. and for some reason it bothered you.

when you’d returned to nobara’s room last night, gojo had helped you make up an excuse. while dramatically gesturing around, he’d told them that he intercepted her journey towards the boys’ dorms to recruit you for training, claiming that he wanted to teach you more about reverse cursed techniques. although he saved you from scrutiny and embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel like he might use it as leverage in the future. it was gojo after all, he was unpredictable. absentmindedly, you agreed to whatever plan the others had schemed and grabbed your sword, getting ready to move to your assigned position with miwa. while you had heard of the other students’ skills, you weren’t sure where to place their levels as there was always room for surprises. underestimating opponents was a beginner's mistake. the bell rang out, signaling the start of the tournament; with swift movements, the group members dispersed and slowly moved towards the "enemy".

in the distance, you could already hear loud explosions - it was probably mechamaru happily blasting away his opponents. you gritted your teeth in annoyance, the blasts were too loud for you to make out anyone approaching you. and as you predicted, someone was taking advantage of the noise to stalk up on you. barely being able to block the blow with your sword, you found yourself opposite of maki who was grinning at you. the challenging glint in her eyes told you that she wasn't going to go easy on you but you welcomed it. it was a good opportunity for you to grow and hone your sword wielding skills.

however, it proved to be more difficult to defeat maki than you'd originally anticipated. in mere minutes, maki had already disarmed miwa, leaving her defenseless and you were hanging on a bare thread. your grip on the sword was weakening, laboured breath making your ears ring. it was frustrating, knowing that after all those months of rigorous practice, you still couldn't win a fight. giving up wasn't an option, at the very least you had to give it your all.

"c'mon, you can do better than this!" maki teased you as you ducked away from the swipe of her spear. it missed you by a hair's width and left you scrambling to create more distance between you so you could heal yourself. maki's relentless hits didn't give you any rooms for it - you really had to learn how to constantly apply it to yourself without losing time. from the corner of your eyes, you could see that miwa had picked up the phone. she was probably calling for help, you thought and dished out another hit towards maki which she skillfully dodged. instead, she delivered another blow to your legs, making your knees buckle from the force. you used your sword to support you and took another breath before you tried to lunge at her. in the distance, miwa suddenly collapsed, making you stop mid-move and took another hit from maki that took all the air in your lungs.

"eyes on your opponent, y/n. you know better than to get distracted in a fight, you could've been killed in a real fight," maki reprimanded you as you coughed heavily, gasping for air as you slowly got back up. you were unsteady on your feet, not having enough energy to even heal yourself. conflicted by whether you should face maki again or help miwa, your eyes were flitting between them. maki took advantage of your uncertainty, dealing another blow to you that knocked the sword out of your hand. as your last resort, you kicked at her feet, trying to get her to fall, only to have her pin you to the ground.

"you're going to have to practice a lot more to beat me in the future," she sighed, picking up your sword. panic welled up in your chest - the sword was the only way you could possibly somewhat win this fight but even subconsciously you knew that it was over. reaching out for the sword in desperation, your vision was clouded with tears. it was frustrating, so so frustrating. why couldn't you be as talented as her? or have fast reflexes like noritoshi? why were you ordinary, not being able to make any progress no matter how hard you try?

"i know but i can't give up now!" you defiantly retorted, pushing at her with all might. "i have to win, i just have to show my skills for once and prove myself, i- i-"

even maki softened up at your heart wrenching sobs, easing up on her grip. you both knew it was over. you were probably already eliminated from the tournament, with no other possibility to redeem yourself. she knew that you tried your best and never once underestimated her but something irked her. it was your motivation, your driving force.

"y/n, there's no shame in losing. that's how you grow, make mistakes and learn from them. you tried your best, it's not easy to stand against me for so long."

"i know but there's- i'm still not where i need to be! look at how much progress the others are making in comparison to me! i've been practicing day and night and still, no one is noticing me. i'm just a measly healer and i-"

"y/n." maki cut you off sternly. "is this your motivation? proving yourself to others? you'll not be able to improve if you keep fighting for others. you need to start working on yourself, for yourself. you don't owe anyone anything. but you have to realize that trying to satisfy other people's needs will only make you unhappy and hinder your growth."

"i'm unhappy with my skills! i keep telling myself that it's okay, that i have a rare cursed technique but sometimes i just wish i had a flashy technique or be as strong as you. i don't want to be looked at as if i need protection, i don't want it! i just-" you hiccuped, sniffling again as you wiped your tears with the sleeves of your uniform. "i just want someone to acknowledge me, want him to accept me as an equal…"

"who?" maki's cold look made you freeze in your movements. you didn't mean to let that slip. no one needed to know that the entire time, you were vying for noritoshi's attention. but she was right; there was no point in giving it your all if it wasn't for yourself. it was a silly, childish dream of yours to be equal with him again. he was far out of reach and you couldn't catch up to him.

"n- noritoshi," you admitted in defeat. maki saw right through you, there was no point in lying. she raised her eyebrows at you but didn't question it further. after all, you hadn't told her about the background story. unless nobara had done so, you wouldn't doubt it.

"i'm not gonna ask you why. but this is my advice, do not fight for somebody else. if you relentlessly work on yourself for your own benefit, you'll see progress a lot faster. your technique might not be flashy but it is powerful, remember that. you're a valuable asset to every team," she concluded and pulled you up, awkwardly patting your back as you still sniffled. maki opened her mouth to tell you some comforting words but froze when another extremely loud boom resounded near the entrance of the estate. your eyes widened at the sudden influx of cursed energy - there was no doubt that a high-level curse had just entered the school grounds. you turned to maki to tell her the news but she'd already moved, pointing to miwa.

"take her to a safe place, you can't stay here! in your state, you wouldn't last against such a strong curse," maki yelled at you as she disappeared in the woods. you scrambled frantically, not wanting to be left behind. while you were useless for the tournament, you could at least still be of assistance against a curse. miwa was still laying on the ground, unmoving. you shook her gently, scared that she was seriously hurt. it seemed like she was just sleeping instead; you were relieved. throwing her across your shoulder, you winced in pain but persisted nonetheless. you had to get her away from here, who knows what curses were roaming around. your senses were flooded with the stench of blood and debris, the pressure of cursed energy, the loud rumbles. you couldn't tell where the others were but you hoped they were safe.

a loud thud startled you and you stopped, ready to draw your sword until realization hit you that it was utahime that was inspecting you. determined, you thrusted miwa's limp body towards utahime. 

"miwa will be okay, she's just sleeping! i'm okay too, don't worry, please just take care of her and i'll check on the others!"

"y/n, don't be stupid! you're injured and in no state to help others." utahime attempted to convince you; you shook her off stubbornly, insisting that you were fine.

"what if the others get hurt? i have to help them or at least warn them!" your resolve was firm and unwavering that even utahime couldn't convince you otherwise. slipping out of her grasp, you sprinted towards the source of the cursed energy. from far away you could already see the damage that the curse had caused. multiple buildings were torn apart, trees dislodged and- were those branches rapidly growing out of the ground? you watched in horror as the branches whipped around, following running figures on the rooftop of one of the buildings. upping your speed, you jumped towards the group to aid them. as you neared them, you could make out inumaki, noritoshi, and megumi fighting against the curse, maki trailing close behind. 

they barely stood a chance against the curse, every hit that they dealt, the curse would come out unscathed. "what's the deal with that curse?" you asked, panting as you joined them, coming to a halt behind inumaki. megumi was yelling something but you couldn't hear him as noritoshi turned to you and shoved you out of the way.

"y/n, what are you doing here?" 

"helping you guys? what the fuck does it look like?" you yelled back exasperated. why was he mad at you in such a situation? they needed any helping hand they could get to defeat the curse. while you weren't useful in fights, you could at least provide continuous healing. noritoshi didn't have any time to reply as the curse lashed out again, dodging it by jumping to the side. you stayed close to inumaki, swiftly healing him when he collapsed from the rebound of his cursed speech. you clenched your jaw, not wanting the others to see that you were slowly running out of energy and strength. next thing you know, a body was hurled through the air, landing near you with a thud. your heart filled with dread when your eyes fell onto the figure, recognizing noritoshi.

"y/n, heal them as best as you can and get out of here! take them to the teachers!" maki yelled out and this time you obeyed, too panicked about noritoshi's state. you were thankful that inumaki had enough energy to run after you'd healed him - hauling noritoshi's tall frame around was already difficult enough but even more so when you were exhausted. as you neared the gates, utahime was already running towards you with a concerned look on her face. you were glad that she was nearby, it meant that gojo and the other teachers were close and could defend you.

"what happened?" utahime worried but you couldn't reply. falling to your knees, you gently laid noritoshi on the ground. the injuries looked bad, there was blood everywhere. you had to stop the wound on his head from bleeding but your trembling hands were preventing you from doing so.

"i- i don't know, i just- i think the curse hit him and now he's unconscious and he's losing so much blood and-"

utahime pinched you firmly, snapping you out of your panic. she was already holding a cloth to noritoshi's temple to stop the bleeding. patting your hand, she told you in a gentle voice: "heal him if you still have enough strength but don't overexert yourself. ieiri will be here soon." 

nodding frantically, you placed your trembling hands on his abdomen and let your cursed energy flow. the strength was slowly leaving your body but you had to save him. you had to make sure he was okay, he couldn't die, not like this. regret was bubbling up inside you; what if this was the last time you would ever get to see him?just as you felt his energy responding to yours and saw his hand moving slightly, you couldn't hold yourself upright anymore. the last thing you saw was utahime reaching out to catch you as you collapsed.

you woke up with a startle, gasping for air as you sat up abruptly. sunlight was flooding the room and it felt uncomfortably hot on your skin. you pushed the blanket back but stopped halfway in your movement. your entire body hurt, muscles burning and screaming for more rest. and yet you couldn’t stay still as you remembered the previous events. how long were you out for? was everyone okay? gritting your teeth, you slowly moved out of the room. again, you were faced with the endless maze that was the tokyo tech buildings and stopped in your tracks, not sure which direction to go. you let out a sigh of relief when you spotted yuji in the distance, waving at him to get his attention.

“y/n!” yuji ran towards you, frantically gesturing towards your room. “you’re supposed to be resting! what are you doing here?”

“is everyone okay?” you croaked, now realizing how dry your throat was.

“yeah, ieiri did a good job of healing everyone! some of us are still resting though and so should you.”

“no, i… is noritoshi okay?”

“noritoshi? oh, you mean the guy with the long hair?” yuji nodded, curiously eyeing you as your shoulders dropped, the stress rolling of them. “yeah, he’s still recovering though. ieiri said that his injuries were probably the worst so he’s not allowed to leave the bed.”

“can you take me to him?” you asked with a small voice, doing your best to muster up a puppy face. yuji sighed, scratching his head sheepishly. you could see the conflict in his eyes, that he was thinking about rejecting your request. in the end, he shook his head in defeat and motioned for you to follow him. a small grin found its way onto your lips - yuji was just too nice, he couldn’t say no when people ask him for favours. the walk to noritoshi’s room was silent, neither of you knowing what to say. you knew it was selfish of you not to ask him about his wellbeing more or visit the others but you just had to see for yourself that noritoshi was okay. yuji stopped in front of a door, pointing at it.

“this is his room. he might be sleeping though… my room is down the hall so if you need me to accompany you back to your room, just call me.”

you thanked him quietly and watched as he retreated. taking a deep breath, you knocked at the door and waited for a reply. a few moments passed before noritoshi’s voice rang out, giving you the okay to enter. gingerly, you opened the door and entered the room. noritoshi was sitting on his bed, reading a book as if nothing had happened. you looked at him bewildered. he didn’t look like his injuries fazed him at all. despite the bandages around his head and arms, he remained calm as if nothing hurt. 

“noritoshi,” you breathed out, taking a seat on the chair near the bed. he didn’t spare you a look, keeping his eyes on the book. “i uhm. i’m glad you’re okay! when i saw you in that state, i was so so scared that i could lose you… i did my best to heal you, i know i didn’t do much but-”

“i didn’t need your help,” noritoshi snapped at you, placing the book on his lap. “i would’ve been fine without it.”

you were stunned. why was he so agitated? after you initial shock, you huffed in frustration. “what the hell, you could’ve died! i was trying so hard to keep you alive and you react like this? i know you don’t like me but even this is a low blow for you!”

“it wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t inserted yourself into everything! you’re not helping anyone, just dragging us down; everything could’ve gone well if it wasn’t for you standing in the way,” noritoshi countered as frustrated, this time actually looking at you. you stared back at him in disbelief. you saved his life and he had the nerve to shot you down like this.

“does it really hurt your ego to admit that i was actually helpful? we were friends at some point so why do you insist on being such a dick? and here i was, finally thinking that we were getting somewhere- for fuck’s sake, we kissed and-”

“leave.”

you stopped rambling. the tired tone in his voice, the deadpan look on his face; he was serious. you couldn’t believe him. tears welled up in your eyes as you leaped from the chair and hastily exited the room, slamming the door in anger. 

you never wanted to see him again.

p.s: yes nobara gave you a wrong sketch of the buildings what about it hehe

taglist: @milkteeboba​

[deliciousangelfestival]

Wicked Romance

Chapter 1

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her. 

Warning: Maybe bad writing? Hehehe forgive me. This is my first time write and posting my own fan fiction on tumblr.

############

If an outsider sees Steve, he got everything: looks, money, status. But for him, he lacks one thing; the right person to stand beside him.  

But let’s talk about how Steve became the new mob leader.

Steve got raised by his mother Sarah Rogers, it was until he retired from the military he reconnected with his father again. 

He thought his father, Joseph Rogers owns a security firm every time he visits him when he was a kid after his parents divorced. Until he reaches a certain age he realized his father actually is a mob boss. He found his childhood friend Bucky, they went to the army together, also working with his father after he got into an accident that cost his left arm. 

He owes it to his father, but Joseph doesn’t need his son to pay his debt. He only wanted his son to stay with him. Joseph has everything, but he missing two things; his lovely wife and his son. 

Joseph loves Sarah, but he forgot she doesn’t come from a mobster background. When they got married, she was overwhelmed. Looking at her husband coming home with blood on his hands or they need to stay at the safe house when she was 8 months pregnant and when Steve was baby the rival gang tried to hurt her and their son. 

Sarah admitted to Joseph that she couldn’t live like this. In the end, she asks to separated but they never divorced. Joseph never sends the document to the court. 

When Joseph retired, he decided to be honest. He went to chase his wife again. With a lot of effort the couple reunited again.

Their love story was so sweet that could make Steve’s teeth hurt. Joseph appointed Steve as the new leader while he enjoys his second honeymoon with his wife. 

It’s been 5 years since Steve became the new mob boss, now he’s waiting for the one that could help him write a sweet story like his parents. 

## 

Right now around lunchtime at the fancy that owned by Rogers. Steve and others like Bucky and Sam are sitting at the bar. While Pietro is the bartender serving their drinks. 

It's a usual day for them but it's a little bit different with Steve this time.

Steve head not looking at his food because notices someone seating near the window. She wearing a dress, not too sexy but he could see her legs. She is completely different from a woman who dressed less to get his attention. The reason is simple Steve is an attractive man, tall, broad shoulder, the expensive three-piece suit that wraps his muscles. He only sits for 3 minutes, few girls try to seduce him but he politely or in a sarcastic way to shoo them. 

And the girl who he watched for a while won’t budge to turned around. It poked his ego a little bit. He quite used to with the flirt and attention. 

“You still staring at her.”

Bucky’s words made Steve snap up from his trance. 

Steve shook his head, he couldn’t help it because he wants to see the woman face who sitting alone. 

“Pfft.”

Someone who holds his laughter. Three of them turn their gaze towards the bartender served their drink. 

“Something funny Pietro?” Steve raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m just surprised my boss lose his game before approaching Miss Lilly.”

Steve tilts his head “You knew her name?”

Pietro nodded while whipping the glass with cloth “Yup, the gorgeous lady that always left a big tip.” 

“She has become a regular?” Sam asks surprised. 

“Perhaps, it’s difficult to forget her since the first time she came here.” Pietro is a sucker for a beautiful woman. 

He put the clean glass on the shelf “The day she came here also the first day Peter Peter start his job.”

The alpha male grunted when Parker’s name mentioned. That kid is troublesome. He always late for his job and clumsy, but he’s the best chef assistant according to Wanda who the head chef at the restaurant. 

“So she’s been our customer for 5 months. How come we never notice her?” Sam whispered asking. They always come here every day for lunch and dinner. 

Pietro raised his shoulder “Usually she only stays for 10 minutes after buying one drink. Then she left. This is the first time she asks for a table.” 

After hearing the info from Pietro, Steve looking at her back once again. 

“Steve, if you don’t talk to her I will,” Sam said while moving from his seat. 

Steve stop Sam by grabbing his shoulder “I didn’t say I don’t want to.”

“Go get her punk.” Bucky raised his fist.

Steve nodded, he walks closer towards her table, he doesn’t understand why his heart beating so fast. 

He already in his game, using his usual pick-up line and smile, but before his foot stops at her table, she turns her head towards him. 

It felt like a slow-motion when he saw her looking at him. 

The first moment he looked at her eyes, somehow the time stop and world in only both of them. 

She looks at him with a friendly smile. ‘Her eyes,’ he couldn’t look away. 

“Hi…” He couldn’t believe he almost squeaked his voice. Steve could feel his face turn red like tomatoes. How he wishes, the situation could change.

‘BANG’

The loud sound came from the gun sound. The door abruptly opened by a bunch of guys who wear suits, some of them holding guns, and baseball bat, and the one who leads them is Brock Rumlow. 

Steve cursed, because of the annoying newcomer, he already lost the moment with her. But partly he blamed himself, earlier he wished to change the situation. Be careful what you wished for.

It must be his rival gang who crash his business again. This is the third time in one month. Since Brock became the new head after Pierce died. 

“Damn it.” He saw Bucky and Sam already start kicking and punching. 

He turned at her, he looks at her with puppy eyes “Forgive me for today’s distraction. You don’t have to pay. It’s free.”

Before she could reply, one guy holding a baseball bat, and swing at Steve but he able to stop it. 

“Everyone leave this place !!!” He screamed his lungs out to alarm the guest who still shocked. All of them ran to save their lives. 

Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Pietro busy fighting their rival. 

No wonder why he had bad feelings, today seems nothing could go wrong. He knew something bad will happen. Turn out it’s Rumlow. 

“What do you want Rumlow?” Steve hissed at the uninvited guest.

Brock shrugged his shoulder “Oh nothing, I just want to say hi to my rival, since I became the boss now.”

‘Because of that reason?’ Steve inwardly thought. But he knew why Rumlow did this, he want everyone to know his name since he recently got this position. And this bastard choose his place at the wrong time and the wrong place.

Both of them punches at each other and destroyed the furniture.

Brock always sneaky, he prepares a hidden knife under his sleeves aka phantom blade. 

He succeeded stab Steve’s shoulder. 

“Urgh.” But because of his muscles, it didn’t go that deep. 

Brock brings Steve to his shoulder and throws him to the ground. 

Steve landed on the ground while Brock put on a mocking smile looking down at him. 

“Boys~”

The seductive voice made both of them turn to see who it was. 

Steve widened his eyes when he saw the girl who took his breath away standing in front of them. 

When she stood, he could see she’s wearing a skirt that has a high cut on her left thigh. Steve and Brock were taken aback because under the fabric there’s a belt dagger. 

She slightly pouted which made Steve thought for a second she looks adorable. But what the hell is she doing here when he already told everyone to leave this place.

She put her right hand on her left chest “It breaks my heart seeing my favorite restaurant destroyed like this.”

Steve somehow felt happy when he knew she like his work.

She grabs the dagger and throws it to Steve. 

“I’m lending it to you.” She winked at him, and turn around to grab her coat. She headed to the exit door, easily avoided the fight.

“That’s one hot lady right there.” 

“Yeah, she is.”  Steve took the chance to give a butthead towards Brock. He doesn’t want this jerk to look at his ‘future date’. 

Brock screamed while holding his broken nose “That’s was low, I was distracted.”

“Let’s get this over with. I can’t do this all day.” Steve finally let out his rage towards Rumlow. 

####

Their fight is done with the result Steve side who won. 

“I’ll get you next time,” Brock screamed angrily, his fingers broken by Steve. He got carried by the paramedic. 

Steve wiped his bloody nose with a cloth while Bruce pressing his shoulder “Yeah yeah, just not in this place again.” He answered lazily. 

He sighed because he’s getting tired of Rumlow childish fight. After his wound got treated by Bruce, Steve went back into the restaurant. 

What he saw is a broken window, table, the custom leather chair that imported from Italy also ruined. There will be one person who will be crazy over this, Natasha who also his accountant, and Bucky’s wife. 

His shoes step on the broken glass, his eyes locking to the table where she sat. 

When he arrived he saw the book she read. Steve notice there is a bookmark inside of it. He doesn’t want to touch her touch without permission but he eager wants to see what inside. 

Steve put his hand on his mouth and gasped “Oh f**k!”

“Language you punk!” Bucky and Sam appear from behind. Their face and hands also bruised because of the short fight. 

“What’s wrong?”

They got no answer from Steve. He look like a statue still looking at his hands.

Bucky and Sam glanced at the bookmark on Steve’s hand. Both of them smirked.

’When the restaurant re-open, text me: (646)-xxxxxxxx’

Steve’s mind went back to the first time he saw her face and that beautiful smile, then the way she’s not afraid of the craziness that happens today, and she lent him a dagger so he can win. 

He didn’t think it wasn’t a thing, but it happened to him. 

He fell in love at the first sight. 

“We totally lose him.” Sam waves his hand in front of Steve’s eyes. 

They could see Steve on cloud nine right now. 

“Good for him, maybe he could move on this time,” Bucky murmured. 

Sam pointed one critical point “But first of all, we need to tell your wife about today.” 

Bucky sighed “That’s the difficult part.” 

While his friends busy thinking about how to coaxing Natasha so she won’t stun them with the lecture that could last for the whole day and make their ear hurts, Steve is planning how to renovate the restaurant fast so he could text her.

>>>CHAPTER 2

Taglist:

@cloudystevie​

[its-warm-in-here]

Playing Pretend

I’m sorry I didn't get this up sooner. I gutted the end but here’s the first part of the first chapter of a Heisenberg x reader fic that will probably go on too long. This is more of a prolog. No smut yet! Written with a female reader in mind, but I may have versions for both m and f when the final product goes up. Gonna start out kinda fluffy before we get darker. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

Summary: This summer trip to Romania was supposed to be momentous, life changing, and the bases for your master’s thesis. Too bad the villagers want you gone and this ‘Mother Miranda’ won't even see you. Luckily, you run into a greasy engineer who says he can help.

Or

Karl tries to take a day off from being ‘Lord Heisenberg’ with the cute stranger who wandered into the village. Things only spiral from there.

~2080 words

Miranda loved the yearly festivals. She always made a big show of the village, flowers and banners everywhere. The townsfolk would bring out their best clothing, even if their best was still black and brown. The dreary village would come alive with drinking, dancing and merry making. Even some of the neighboring villages would join in the festivities. The town would be near bustling, the local tavern would be full, laughter and song would echo from the church to the castle.

He hated it. All of it. Heisenberg avoided the celebrations, instead opting to stay holed up in his factory as much as possible. And it wasn't just because of the excess of people, while that didn't help. No, it was an insidious purpose for these gatherings. He exhaled a ring of cigar smoke.

First, boost morale through the village and reaffirm the people's faith in Mother Miranda. Second, and far more insidious, was to widen the flock, to expand her influence and bring in new blood for her experiments. The surrounding towns were just as small and removed from the rest of the world as Miranda's village. Made it easy to bring new blood under her wing. Youth would meet and marry, a drunk or four would go missing, and some of the visitors would become new members of Miranda's community. More meat for her Cadou grinder.

Heisenberg flicked the ash from his cigar and watched it float down before the wind caught it. The early morning view from the top of his factory wasn't bad. It was his own part of the world: no view of the village, the stench of the reservoir was nonexistent, and the most he could see of Castle Dimitrescu was a massive wall keeping their territory separated. Just him and his machines. He took another puff. As much as he planned to avoid today, Heisenberg knew that he would have to make at least some appearance. All the Lords did, even if it was just for a moment. Just another way to show her power; having all of her ‘children’ before the townsfolk. He grimaced at the thought. Târgul de Fete was set to start soon. At least that gave him the morning to get shit done. Heisenberg kicked a bit of metal scrap off the roof and it bounced off the scrap heap below with a ping! before landing in the dirt. He rolled his shoulder. Time to get to work.

---

"Well fuck you too!" You slammed the door behind you.  Why even bother going through the proper channels? No matter what, they turn you down, tell you to leave and treat you like an outcast. You spoke to towns folk, to village leaders, hell, you even wanted an audience with their 'Mother Miranda,' but she refused to even see you! You stormed along the path and the few people that had not made their way to the Târgul de Fete celebration steered clear of you, opting to give you a side eye and shuffle to their destination. All you wanted was to observe their festival, and maybe take a few pictures, but even that was negotiable. You had even offered to leave your camera behind with them for the day. Why hadn't you gone to Sweden with the rest of your class? No, instead you went to some culty, backwater town in Romania!

You kicked a rock, hard, sending it flying into the tall grass. "God Damnit!" This was supposed to have been your thesis! Supposed to be life changing! No, now you were just stuck, miles from any true civilization and being kicked out of some stupid, ramshackle heap, whose plants can't even grow right in a Romanian summer. Some of the plants were barely green, most appeared dry or yellowing. The flowers were either wilted and falling apart or hadn't even bloomed. You were no botanist, but you were certain that wasn't healthy.

You kicked another rock, it soared through the grass, but it struck something metal this time before landing with a thud. They didn't want you here, didn't want you at Târgul de Fete? Fine, but they didn't take your camera. Without thinking, you dug the old DSLR out of your bag and snapped a picture of the church.

And immediately deleted it.

You signed. Even if the villagers were a bunch of jackasses, this was their culture and they made it very clear that you were not welcome. Even if they had agreed to all this three months ago. And even if they had called you a bad omen, a poison and a danger to the whole village.  You weren't about to infringe. Crestfallen, you huffed your bag over your shoulder and began the trek back out of town. It was at least a four hour walk to your rental car and a good chunk of that walk was more of a hike. Not like there was much you could do other than leave after cussing out the town speakers and nearly slamming the door off its hinges.

The village had felt abandoned when you walked in, and now that everyone had headed off to a celebration, the village was positively desolate. No traditional brightly-colored dresses or intricate belts to be seen. And no wary or hostile glares from the inhabitants either. It was... quiet. Aside from the occasional crow, you might as well have been in a ghost town. It took you a bit to find the correct path out of the grave yard, but after spinning in circles for a good moment, you pushed past a red door and were back on your way. The village wasn't large, most of the paths were poorly maintained and the whole place was enveloped in a strange fish smell.

You bit the inside of your cheek. This was a good thing, really. Who would've wanted to stay in the ramshackle place for more than a few hours, let alone a few days? You groaned and kicked at the ground again. While not lacking in repellent attributes, the pagan worship of the place fascinated you.  They had their own religion but had incorporated traditional Romania holidays into their culture. Where else in Europe could you see that happen in real time? Of course, you could think of a couple of places, but you had picked here in the Carpathian mountains in particular! While you did have a second choice, you couldn't stop the self pity from setting in.

Ugh.

The village was relatively small and was quickly fading to forest, the castle that overlooked the town vanished behind you as you shuffled down a particularly steep part of the path. The trees here looked more normal, less sickly. While it was only marginally, you felt a bit better, a bit less mad. Stepping away from that place was a breath of fresh air.

Your boots skid a bit as you reach a flat spot. With a huff, you grip both backpack straps to center yourself.  If this couldn't be your thesis, that didn't mean you had to hate the walk. This was Romania afterall, when was the next time you were going to be here? The sky may be overcast, but it sort of added to the eerie charm of this place. You sidestepped your way down another steep incline, using one hand to grip overgrown branches for balance. The last step is a bit further, but you find your footing easily.

And the rock gave way under you, tilting forward with an abrupt grinding sound. A burst of panicked adrenaline rushed through as you struggled to stop. You pitch forward, stumbling over branches and underbrush, your eyes forcibly losing focus.

"The fuck?"

That wasn't your voice. You slammed full force into something, another body? And it gives under you. The other person takes the brunt of the fall, landing on their back with a distinct, "oof."

For a moment, you don't speak, too focused on catching the breath. Finally, your vision swims back and you find your voice, "Damnit... are you ok?"

The man under you goans, sitting half way up to look you over. His hair is grey, and a bit too long, but he couldn't be any older than forty, possibly younger. "Get off." Your eyes go wide and that panicked beat fills your chest. "Ya deaf? Off."

"Er, right," you scramble to your feet and, without thinking, extend a hand to the stranger, "Sorry about... that." You gestured vaguely to the path. "Lost my balance."

He lets out an exasperated huff, and knocks your hand away. For a moment, he doesn't acknowledge you, instead retrieving something from the grass behind him. He's wearing a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up with black leather gloves. You force yourself to look somewhere, anywhere else, nervously bouncing from foot to foot. When he turns back to you, he has a tattered, wide brim hat in place and is looking over a pair of broken sunglasses. One of the lenses was clearly shattered, but he hooked them over his shirt collar, his attention finally turning to you. "You're not from around here, huh?”

You couldn't help but snort, "What gave it away, the wind breaker? Don't worry, I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" He repeats.

You start moving back to the path. "Yup, your village speaker has made that very clear."

"They were clear? Not all back and forth on it?" He chuckles, "That's impressive, they must really not like you."

You stare at him, was this a friendly face? It was certainly a handsome face, even with scarring and stubble. But a trustworthy one? "You sure you're ok? Didn't scramble that brain when I ran into you? The rest of the town was pretty dead set on driving me out."

" 'Cause they're a bunch of morons, sweetheart," he insisted, "All part of Mother Miranda's big, idiot mob."

"Huh," you are walking ahead on the path, and he's not but a footfall behind you.

"But they don't matter."

"No?"

"What matters is, why didn't they want you here?"

You stop, turning to face this stranger. He was gruff, and more than a little rude, but in comparison to the townsfolk, he was downright friendly. Hell, you were surprised he was so forward with you.  "Masters thesis," you put plainly, hoping he'll leave it at that.

"On what?"

"Anthropology."

He leaned in close. He wasn't that much taller than you, but you couldn't help but move away from his imposing figure. From this distance, you could smell motor oil and some kind of smoke on his clothes. "That's it?" You scoff, the sooner you are back in your car the better. "I just mean, it's surprising they'd want you gone. You sure there's nothing else? Didn't kick over any goat statues?"

"Not that I noticed," you started back down the path. You'd wasted too much time talking to this weirdo anyway. Just based on his demeanor and dislike of the rest of the village, you wonder if you'd maybe tripped over the town pariah. He certainly wasn't dressed like anyone else from the village.

"I could get you back in."

You stopped, not fifteen feet from him. "You're assuming I want to go back in." And didn’t you? You just risk getting yelled at again. But if there was a chance to write your thesis...

“Well, if you're not interested,” he turned to leave. You grit your teeth, your nails digging deep into your backpack straps.

“Hold up!" It doesn't take much to catch up to him. "How exactly are we going to do this?"

"My word carries a certain amount of weight," he carried on, "Though,  the village doesn't meet on these matters till next week."

"But what good does that-"

He isn't listening, "For today, I know a place you can watch the town. Besides, you're an Archeologist, you probably want an interview, right?" Of course he gestures to himself with a sort of half bow.

You roll your eyes, but still follow, "Anthropologist." He gives you a blank look. "I'm studying Anthropology, not Archeology."

He doesn't seem to care, instead pulling a cigar and lighter from his pants pocket. "Got a name?"

"Oh, (y/n). You?"

The stranger is part way up on the path you had tripped down. "Karl," he had extended you a gloved hand. You look from him to his hand, before brushing past him, pulling yourself up next to him without the offered aid.

[victorianoruben]

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Nowhere to Run by  GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here:

It’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

Chapter 10: We are Glass

Killian spent the next couple of weeks recovering in the hospital. He asked Robin to stay at his place to keep an eye on Emma and Henry, yet Emma spent most of her time next to his bed side when she wasn’t sitting in the corner of the room with Henry on her lap, teaching him his school lessons.

She told him how she had been teaching Henry everything she could while they were on the run. He could read and write, knew his arithmetic, and was an excellent artist. He found that even when he was tired, he would spend his time watching the two with reverence. Emma was a patient mother, but Henry was also an exceptional child.

“Did it hurt when you got shot?” The boy mused as he sat on the end of his bed, peeking up from between the cards in his hands.

“Aye. I would say it was pretty painful. Go fish, by the way.” He paused. “But the pain was replaced quickly by a sense of numbness, I guess, so I didn’t feel it long.” He stretched restlessly, looking down at his cards. “Have any 3’s?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, looking through his cards. “Go fish.” He smirked. “Do you think my dad is going to get out of prison and come after us again?”

Killian placed his cards against his chest. “I don’t think so lad. He’s going to have a trial. He has that right. The state will present its evidence, and he’ll face any consequences that he’s found guilty of. But you don’t have to worry, Henry. Even if he does get out, he’ll never get near you or your mom again.”

“But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

“Well, I’ve got Captain Nolan, and my partner Robin. Will and Belle…”

“And mom and me.” He said proudly.

Killian’s heart swelled. “You’d protect me? I’m honored.”

“Is Rogers ok?” His nose scrunched in worry.

“He’s staying with Will. He’s not a young pup anymore, so the old boy needed a lot of help getting better. But when they finally let me out of here, he’s gonna come back and live with me.”

“Will me and mom live with you?”

Killian swallowed nervously. He and Emma hadn’t talked about the future yet. There was still so much for them to resolve. Ten years was a long time to be apart, especially when the last time they had seen each other they were not in a good place.

“Your mom and I have a lot to talk about still.”

“Are you really married to my mom?” Continuing his barrage of questions.

He sighed. “Aye.”

“That must have been weird having her gone for ten years then. I bet you missed her.”

“More than all the stars in the world.”

“She used to tell me stories about you.” The boy said, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Did she now?” He mused.

“Sometimes you were a cop fighting bad guys, other times you were a swashbuckling pirate searching for treasure, and sometimes you were a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy sailing off on a ship to save the princess. Mom tells the best stories, but they were always about you.”

Killian’s eyes glassed over, bending his head to reach up and swipe at his face. “Your mother has quite the imagination, but I’m happy to be able to oblige for your entertainment.”

“Who’s hungry?” Emma’s voice filled the room as she came carrying a tray of food and drinks. “The doc says you are off your diet.”

Killian groaned happily as she sat the hamburger down on the tray in front of him. The first real food he would get to eat in weeks. He bit into the burger immediately, moaning loudly as soon as he tasted the meat on his tongue. Emma was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. “Wut?” He said between chews.

“Nothing.” She said with an embarrassing glance away from him, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red. At least he still had some sort of effect on her, he thought.

“How did the call with Liam go?” She sat down in the chair next to him, pulling a grilled cheese sandwich into her hands.

“He was happy to hear that Neal is behind bars. He’s going to come visit soon when the girls are on holiday. He wanted me to tell you how gutted he was knowing everything you’ve been through.”

She shrugged, something she did often when he mentioned her past with Neal. “It will be nice to see him again. The girls must be so big now.”

“Aye. Twelve and sixteen now. He has his hands full for sure.”

She took a bite of her sandwich, watching Henry coloring at the end of Killian’s bed. “He’s not bothering you is he?”

“We were just playing a game of Go Fish. I think he cheats.” He whispered loudly, earning a complaint from Henry. Emma let out a pleasant laugh, something he was happy to earn from her.

“Doctor says you might get out of here tomorrow.”

“That’s my hope as well. I can’t wait to see Rogers.”

“I’m glad he’s alright. The old boy’s a survivor.” Emma mused.

“Aye, that he is.”

“I made an appointment for Henry and I to go see Dr. Hopper next week.” She said with a sad smile. “Figured I might need to talk through some things before we have to face Neal again at trial.”

“Hop’s a good man.”

“You know him?”

“Aye.” He nodded, not wanting to get into the fact that he knew him because he had been his patient, after Emma had left, when the world crumbled at his feet.

“I’ve been looking for a place to stay once you get released from the hospital. I know you’re going to need your bed to recover.”

Killian bit his lip. He knew they needed to discuss this. He didn’t want her to leave, but he also knew that they had a lot to work through if they were going to ever find their way back to each other. If she still wanted that.

“I can talk to Will. He had a vacancy across the hall from him a couple of weeks ago.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“Emma…”

“Hey there.” Killian stared at Emma’s face as David entered the room. “How ya feeling?” He turned, facing his boss.

“Doing great, going home tomorrow, I’ll be back on the streets before you know it.” He grinned cheekily.

“Yeah you’re taking some time off, buddy.”

“What?” He complained.

“Take a vacation, Killian. You’ve earned some time off. Robins got your cases locked down right now.”

“Cap, I’m fine.”

“It’s an order, Detective.” He walked over to Emma and smiled, she suddenly reached up and wrapped him into a hug.

“You look better.” He said softly.

“I feel better, I feel like I’ve gained ten pounds just eating three meals a day.” She chuckled, but both David and Killian glanced uncomfortably at each other.

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m fine.” She glared. “I don’t want you treating me any differently than you did when we were at the academy.” She winked up at David, “Still top of my class, sir.”

“It’s good to have you back Emma.” David smiled with a genuine air of happiness.

Three months later

Emma picked the shirt off the floor in Henry’s room, tossing it into the hamper. “Did you remember to pack a toothbrush?” The boy appeared from behind the doorway, poking his head into the room.

“Yup. It’s in the front pocket of my duffle.” He disappeared again and then reappeared. “Are you gonna be ok with this?”

Emma smiled at him. “Of course, I am, why would you ask that?”

“Cuz this is my first sleepover away from you that isn’t over at Killian’s.”

“I’ll be fine, Henry. I actually have plans tonight.”

He moved quickly into the room. “What kind of plans?”

She sat down on the bed. “I kinda have a date tonight.”

“Does Killian know?” He asked with a shocked look of disgust on his face.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you left.” He sat down next to her. “My date is with Killian.”

He jumped up from the bed and pumped his arms in the air. “Yes.”

Emma laughed. “Does that mean you’re ok with this?”

“Of course, I am. Killian’s the best. He even lets me stay up until 11pm when I stay over at his place.”

“Well, I’ll have to talk to him about that, but I’m glad you like him.” She wrapped her arms around Henry’s waist and hugged him tightly. “I love you, buddy. I hope you have fun tonight. And if you need me at all, you know you can call me.” She tousled his hair and kissed his cheek.

There was a knock on the door and Henry pushed away from her. “Gotta go, love you mom.”

Emma looked around Henry’s room, pictures he had drawn hanging on the wall. Her favorite one was hanging above the bed. It was of her, Henry, Killian, and Rogers playing at the park.

As difficult as returning home had been, they had settled into a pretty simple life. Emma and Henry had moved into their own apartment in Will’s complex. It was nice to have a friendly face around now and then when she found herself getting anxious on nights when Henry was sleeping over at Killian’s or when she would wake from a terrifying dream.

Will was always gracious no matter the time she found herself standing in front of his door with a bottle of rum in her hands. He would always sit up with her and listen to her talk about the first thing that came to her mind, something Dr. Hopper had suggested she try to take her mind off her nightmares. She didn’t know when it happened but before she knew it, he had become one of her closest friends.

And then there was Killian.

She wasn’t surprised that Henry had latched onto him so quickly. Killian was great with him, always patient, always offering to assist him with whatever the boy required. Which was often a lot as he was a growing boy who was adjusting to the freedom of being able to go outside and roam. Killian made sure he found new foods for him to try, adventures to experience, even new clothes to wear on his first day at a real school. Watching him with her son, the joy on his face, had her falling in love with him all over again. Of course, she hadn’t told him that. She was nervous about moving too quickly with him. Dr. Hopper told her that was normal. She had experienced a trauma and loss that not many people would cope with.

In her last session, she told her therapist that she wanted to try again with Killian. She had spent the last three months trying to figure out what her life would become now that she was home. She needed to learn who Emma was before she could deal with being Mrs. Jones again.

Killian had presented her with their divorce papers, gave her the choice to sign them and start her life fresh. She put it off, telling him that she needed some time to think before she made any big decisions in her life. He was patient and told her he understood but Emma knew that if he had his way, he would rip them to shreds.

Emma was volunteering at a small clinic that Mary Margaret worked at on the weekends, talking to victims of domestic abuse and rape. Currently she was taking it slow, still not understanding her own trauma that she had endured enough to feel like she had all the answers, but just being there with them to let them know they weren’t alone, and that someone understood what they had gone through. It was freeing to Emma to be able to own her story, to not feel ashamed anymore.

Dr. Hopper told her that was a form of acceptance. Owning what happened to you, claiming it as your story. She would never be over what Neal had done to her, stealing her dignity, laying waste to her self-esteem. But she refused to be defined by it. She didn’t want to be Emma Swan, rape victim. She was Emma Jones, survivor.

Today was going to be another step in her journey. Killian was taking her on a date. She remembered his face as they were eating lunch, a short break during his shift.

“We should go out.” She said nonchalantly between bites.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe, but I have to ask you a few questions first.” He raised his eyebrow, leaning forward for her to continue.

“Ask away.”

“I need to know if you ok going on a date with someone who is probably always going to be a little bit damaged.”

He shrugged, “Aren’t we all? I like to think I can absorb a little damage.”

“Ok then, last thing…” She grinned. “You gotta like kids or it’s a deal breaker.”

He laughed loudly, “Aye, I adore Henry.” He shrugged, “So, do I win a date with the beautiful woman who currently has a mayonnaise mustache?” He reached out, wiping the offending condiment from her lip, eliciting shockwaves through her body.

That was the moment she knew she was ready. She had felt excitement from his touch instead of withdrawing the moment he made contact.

He had insisted on being the one to plan the date, as much as she was sure she could still plan a night out, she had to admit that it took some of the pressure off. He wouldn’t tell her where they were going, only that it was somewhere she had been asking to go for a while and he felt she had earned it. Whatever that meant.

She slipped into the pink dress, pulling the straps over her shoulders. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. She looked feminine, happy, with a glint of hope in her eyes. The tears slipped onto her cheek; Neal had not stolen everything from her.

There was a knock on her door, a smile crept on her face. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering her mind. She was taking control of her life tonight.

Opening the door, she couldn’t control the shiver she felt when she saw him come into view. The man she fell in love with so many years ago was standing in front of her. Sure, he was older, the hint of grey kissing his hair, fine lines around his eyes, but he was even more gorgeous today than she remembered him all those years ago. This was the man who was willing to give up his life for her, loved her enough to save her, even if it meant he couldn’t have her.

“You look…”

“I know.” She giggled, accepting the rose he passed toward her. Her nose inhaled the fragrance of the flower, eyes glancing down his frame, the anticipation of the rest of their evening taking her to new heights.

“Shall we?”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Patience is a virtue, love.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes but followed him out to his car. They drove in silence, her hands folded in her lap. The soft sounds of the radio playing through the car.

Trying to live and love,

With a heart that can't be broken,

Is like trying to see the light with eyes that can't be opened.

Yeah, we both carry baggage,

We picked up on our way, so if you love me do it gently,

And I will do the same.

Emma felt the tears sting her eyes. The lyrics breaking into her heart as she chanced a glance at the man sitting beside her, his eyes focused on the road, his jaw tensed, that familiar vein popping from the side of his neck. He never forgot her in all the time she had been gone. She knew how he felt about her. The way he loved her. He’d been so patient with her these last few months. Not pushing her either out the door or into his heart.

We may shine, we may shatter,

We may be picking up the pieces here on after,

We are fragile, we are human,

We are shaped by the light we let through us,

We break fast, cause we are glass.

'Cause we are glass.

He turned toward her, a smile ghosting on his lips that held onto hope. When she walked out the door ten years ago, she knew she still loved him, that she would always love the man who had risked everything for her. Now she knew that back then, before everything went to hell, she was being stubborn walking away, letting her fear of the unknown hold her captive.

I'll let you look inside me, through the stains and through the cracks,

And in the darkness of this moment,

You see the good and bad.

But try not to judge me, 'cause we've walked down different paths,

But it brought us here together, so I won't take that back.

She exhaled, a stray tear slipping against her cheek. She let it fall, not afraid of her emotions anymore. She had been stubborn; she should have known that they would have made anything work. Instead, she walked away and ended up in a hell she couldn’t control.

We might be oil and water, this could be a big mistake,

We might burn like gasoline and fire,

It's a chance we'll have to take.

Emma was ready to let go of all of that. To let go of the ten years she had been robbed of, to forget all the stubborn and foolish decisions that had gotten them to this moment. She wanted to reclaim her life. She wanted to take back what was owed to her.

We are glass.

The song referenced in this chapter is “We are Glass” by Thompson Square. You can hear the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPd1GIwjRFMIt’s a beautiful song and I felt it really summed up the characters in this story.

[zemodaddy]

Shades of Him

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Oeznik walks over to you a presses his hand forcefully on your shoulder. You shakily stood and followed him away from Zemo. You turn around one last time hoping and begging you can speak to him soon. Oeznik gives you one final push out of the door. “We have a room for you where you can stay if you’d like” he says. You hadn’t thought about what was to happen next but you saw no reason not to accept.

He sets you in a room at the other end of the corridor in which Zemo’s room was. You were glad you could be close to him still, even if he didn’t know you were there. Looking around, you begin to unpack some of your things into a closet. This bedroom had to be just a little smaller than Zemos. It had similar furniture and decor, but faced out towards the gardens.

Before you could look any further, someone knocks at your door. A maid enters and says she’ll unpack the rest for you while you go have a look around. Not wanting to make a fuss you do as she says and walk towards the corridor again. Oeznik stood there and led you downstairs.

He shows you the ground floor which consisted of two large living rooms, a kitchen, library and conservatory. He tells you that you have free rein of the library and gardens, since you probably needed something to do anyway. The gardens turns out to be quite overgrown. A long path led along the acres of land that were filled with all sorts of plants. From red roses to the most exotic plants you’ve ever seen.

It almost felt like a different world, as you walked further along the gravel path, the overhanging trees swayed you to go further. They completely blocked the view of the house and you felt isolated, but not in a way that scared you, in a way that was calming and friendly.

Zemo was the only thing missing to make your experience truly special. Sadness tugged at your heart as you decide to walk back to the estate. The next time you took a walk here it would be with him.

When you walked through those towering front doors you receive a call. “Hey y/n where are you?” Shit it was Bucky. “Erm just on a walk around town, what’s up?” “We are taking Karli out tonight, we know where the flagsmashers will strike next. Can you come?” “That’s great Bucky but I have a major family issue right now. My cousin is in hospital right now and I need to be there for him, I’m sorry” “Oh I hope he will be okay, wait, didn’t you say you were on a walk?” Fuck “uhh yeah just taking a breather, its quite stressful here.”

You wish him good luck and hang up. That was close. How could you ever explain to him where you really were. You begin to walk to the kitchen for a drink when Oeznik appears in front of you. “I got word from the doctors that Zemo should wake soon” “oh thank god” you say. It was strange because he didn’t look happy about this. In fact he seemed to grimace at you. Even weirder was that was all he said, and then he just left.

He was one peculiar man. Later that night when you were in your room you watch the news on your phone. This building had only one Tv, and that was in the smaller living room downstairs. You didn’t want to intrude on anyone so you now sat on your bed.

Sam had taken the shield and became the new Captain America. He was the perfect person to bear such a title. You were glad John Walker lost the shield. What a twat. Both Bucky and Sam had stopped the flagsmashers, however Karli had been shot and died. It was sad to see a young girl die like that for something she believed in.

If only the government would have listened for once. You fall asleep on the bed but only rest for a few hours. For some reason you wake in the middle of the night. It was still dark outside and everyone was fast asleep.

You decide to go check on Zemo. Now was your chance to be alone with him and not have oeznik breath down your back. Carefully, you open the doors to his room and shut them slowly behind you. Zemo was in the same position he was in before. His chest rising and falling softly in the dark. You didn’t bother having a light, it was peaceful in the darkness.

You move and kneel down next to him again. Taking his hand in yours you just sit there looking at him. He seemed to stir a bit at this, or was that just your imagination? “I’m sorry” you whisper. “I’m sorry” you repeat as tear begin to flow down your cheek. It was hard for you to be next to him when he couldn’t even talk to you. You felt hopeless and lost.

It was like a part of you he been ripped away and hidden somewhere. Somewhere you couldn’t find, or couldn’t even reach. Zemo moves again, this time it wasn’t your imagination. He was waking. “Oh my god” you say to yourself.

Suddenly, the doors fly open and none other than Oeznik sprints in, followed by two men who looked like doctors. “Get away from him” he almost shouts. “I didn’t-“ you start but he shoves you to the entrance of the room. “Go to your room and stay out, don’t come near” he looked slightly frantic and panicked.

You had no choice but to leave. As the doors shut behind you you hear a distinctive click of the locks. He did not trust you at all. You waited for what felt like hours. Pacing your room you begin to wonder why Oeznik treated you like that. Did he think you tried to kill Zemo? No surely not. Your mind was racing with thoughts.

In the distance you could hear voices coming from the other room. They sounded almost in distress. You thought enough was enough and you walk back down the corridor. You raise your fist up to the door but as you were about to knock it opens. Oeznik looks down at you. He pushes you back slightly and closes the door behind him, hindering you from looking inside the bedroom.

“He doesn’t want to see you” you stand there in shock. “W-what” you stutter. “He seemed to have gained a strong disliking for you.” You worst fears have become true. “Can I just talk to him-“ you try to move past the butler but he blocks your path “I’m afraid I can’t let you go in there” so he does hate you. “I think its best you leave, now, before the baron realises you’re on his property”

Before you knew it you were hurried off into a car. You felt completely empty, like all life had been sucked out of you. You nearly killed him and now you’re paying the price. It’s what you deserved now, and you had to accept that.

You didn’t realise how you ended up back in your apartment but you vaguely remember in between the breaks in your line of thought, being escorted onto a plane and then a car again. Now you stood in your home, alone. The emptiness embraced you, hung around you like a necklace. You just have to accept that he doesn’t want to see you, let alone be anywhere near you.

The days passed and you stayed mostly in your home. You lacked all motivation to do anything. After a few weeks you heard a knock on your door. “Bucky?” He stood there in front of you. He doesn’t say anything and goes in to hug you. He had always been sweet yet this embrace seemed almost sad.

“Why haven’t you called or texted?” He says as he sits himself on your couch. “I know I’m sorry its just been a rough time for me lately.” He looked genuinely worried for you. “Do you want to talk bout it?” The honest answer was no but you knew he would worry about you even more if you said that. So you nod and sit next to him. “Ive just been stressed about work and-“ you pause, there really was no work for you to do, but he didn’t know that.

“I have this old friend who I hurt quite badly and now I think that he hates me” you look down at you hands “I just don’t know what to do” Bucky looks at you sympathetically. “If you both love each other and care for one another then you will find each other again” he looks you in the eyes “Its not over until its over”

Tags: @killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @noavengers @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904 @mochminnie @the-lil-spud @starssscary @safiakillspop

Sorry if i missed anyone ^

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 1 - The Life Changing Offer

Summary: You receive a mysterious invitation for a job interview and are faced with a fascinating stranger that is definitely not like any employer you’ve ever met before. This is potentially a beginning of something incredible if you’re brave enough to take up the offer...

Warnings: None really. General rating (for now).

Author’s Notes: So here it is, my first attempt at published fanfiction... Sorry for any grammatical errors and such. Thanks to @sh3tani​ and @piccolini-cuscino​ for much needed chats and encouragement! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated

Next chapter:

The café was getting increasingly busy with people flooding in for lunch breaks. You were sat at a table near the outskirts of the outdoor dining area. You came to the meeting way too early because that was always safer than arriving on time. Still, you have been glancing at the watch every few seconds, worried you’ve somehow messed it up by being too late or at a wrong place. Once the clock has struck 2pm, your hands began to shake slightly. You have been so focused on trying to deepen anxious breaths that you have not noticed when someone approached the table. Only once your name was mentioned you looked up. The man stood by your table was wearing an expensive looking grey suit and had hair in a dirty shade of blonde. You stood up quickly, surprised by his sudden appearance:

“Hello, hope I haven’t startled you” he smiled and extended a hand.

“Hi” you’ve managed to sober up enough to shake his hand “Sorry, I got lost in thoughts there” you let out a nervous laugh.

“No worries” up close his eyes were very blue “I’m Neil and I hope you are the person I was supposed to meet about work or else I’m in serious trouble” he joked lightly and let go of your hand.

“That’s me” you smiled a little, feeling the tension dissolve.

“Perfect” another dazzling grin sent in your direction.

You had to admit that the guy was a charmer from the get-go. He gestured for you both to sit down and signalled the waitress.

“Hello guys, what do you fancy?”

Before you could place the order, Neil spoke up:

“Café Breve for me” he turned to you and eyed you up quickly with a thoughtful look “And Latte for the lady” You stared at him, one eye brow arched in confusion. He seemed to take in your expression before asking:

“Was I correct?”

“Yeah… but I wasn’t aware my coffee order was part of my work resume” you laughed.

“It wasn’t but I like knowing such details about people” he smirked, and you looked down, suddenly flustered.

This certainly wasn’t looking like an ordinary job interview. Neil was different to any employer you have ever met, and his suave demeanour was starting to make you feel very intrigued. It didn’t help that he was quite fascinating too.

“So shall we begin?” his voice brought you out of daydreams again “I bet you have many questions about this meeting and the job offer”

He was looking at you expectantly, studying your expression. It was as though he has switched into the professional mode now.

“Well yeah, I can’t say the call was very informative” you admitted.

All you knew was that they were searching for someone in your area of expertise – international relations and public safety. And that you have been recommended by your university professor for the role. They haven’t even mentioned the name of the organisation.

“I know and sorry about that” the gentle smile was back, and you couldn’t help but return it “We have a very strong policy of secrecy”

“May I ask who’s ‘we’ then?” his friendliness made you a little braver.

“Of course. I represent Tenet, which is a rather secret organisation that protects the world from quite dangerous threats”

Before you could react, the drinks had arrived and you both fell silent. You could tell that the waitress was interested in Neil and you couldn’t blame her. He was very good-looking. However, he took no notice of her looks. He was still studying you, trying to understand your personality and predict the reactions. You have already impressed him by not being overwhelmed by the situation.

You took a sip of the coffee before asking:

“About how dangerous threats are we talking here?”

His brow furrowed as he took some time to think of the best way to answer your question.

“We’re talking about potential world ending catastrophes”

You stared at him, lips parted in shock. It wasn’t looking like any boring offer that you would find advertised on indeed.co.uk. While you never wanted a desk job, this alternative sounded a bit terrifying. But you were still intrigued. You wanted to know more. You looked back at Neil to see him casually sipping coffee. He was silent, waiting for your reaction. You briefly wondered whether your face was showing any signs of the internal conflict you were feeling. He looked up and your eyes met for a short moment before you averted your gaze and asked:

“Do you mean nuclear level of threat?”

“Not quite” you raised one eyebrow, curious now “We mostly deal with threats of temporal nature. Specifically weapons and ammunition that are being manufactured in the future and are streaming back at us through time”

“Time travelling weapons?” your head begun to hurt.

Definitely not an ordinary job then.

“You could say so” Neil grinned, enjoying your approach to the topic “Though we prefer to call it inversion”

You let out a nervous laugh and shook your head, trying to clear it. Way too much information to take in at once. Neil was looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. “If you want to back out of this, I’d say that this is the moment” he offered.

You took a deep breath, trying to clear your head. It sounded like a dangerous job, something that could maybe even get you killed if things went south. But at the same time it was absolutely fascinating…

Oh why the hell not!

“What kind of work do you have for me then?” you met Neil’s gaze with determination.

“You’re brave. That’s good” he commented, and you shrugged “The offer we have for you involves being a field agent. You would travel on missions with me and other agents. First of course you have to pass the training, but I think that won’t be a problem” he eyed you up again, this time with more playfulness in his eyes.

You blushed and chose to stare at the table for a short while. You felt his gaze on your face. After a beat he broke the silence:

“Do you have any more questions?”

You didn’t know where to begin. Taking a deep breath you chose to ask the most pressing one.

“How does the inversion work?” the foreign word made you frown.

“That’s a very good question. But I think it will be easier if I show you rather than try to explain it” he got up and glanced at you expectantly.

“Now?” you downed the remains of coffee way too fast, coughing as you nearly choked on it.

Neil grinned. You have intrigued him too. He tossed a banknote onto the table. Seeing you start to dig in the purse for money he put a hand on top of yours to stop the movement:

“No need for that. You can treat coffee as one of the work benefits” he smirked and began to walk away, clearly expecting you to follow.

You stared at his back for a second before jogging to catch up. Neil was definitely something else entirely, but you were way too absorbed now to give up. He smiled lightly when he saw you fall into step next to him.

This is definitely a beginning of something strange... and potentially wonderful, you thought while letting him lead you into the unknown. Quite literally.

[yesttoheaven]

I SEE YOU – chapter II

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.4k

warnings – none, just some rude people. It's gotham.

a/n – I'm late with this chapter, I know... 🙃 but I hope you like it!

chapter one here:

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

A week has passed since Y/N met Arthur Fleck. It was a long week for her – with TV appearances, some biased rumors about a possible affair with her co-star and problems with the city's main NGO. The place was invaded and looters took what little they had to offer to the population. Gotham police were doing their best to find those responsible, but it would take some time.

Despite the problems, Y/N constantly found herself thinking about the brown-haired man. At some point he was always in her thoughts. Since the day she left him in front of a building on Winslow Avenue, they haven't seen each other anymore. Y/N would like to know what he thought of the movie, but the man never came.

Maybe he didn't like the movie, she thought. And that was totally fine. What was not right was this desire to find him again.

On Wednesday, Brian asked if 'the guy with the big shoes' had called her, but the actress confessed that she had not given him her phone number. What the young actress didn’t know, was that Arthur had crossed the city – more than once – just to tell her what he thought about the movie, but his attempts were marked by misunderstandings.

"The entrance for employees is on the other side." The receptionist informed, attracting the attention of Arthur, who was walking through the luxurious hotel lobby. He didn't know if she was talking to him directly, but he approached the counter anyway.

"Huh... Y-You talked to me?"

"You are the new janitor, right?" The woman stopped what she was doing and finally looked at him, repressing the urge to roll her eyes.

Arthur shook his head and with a small smile, he said:

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/L/N." The mere fact of saying her name made his heart run so fast. Arthur could not explain, but since he met Y/N, his days have become colorful. He still suffered from the brutality of the citizens of Gotham, but everything became more bearable.

"Y/N Y/L/N? The actress? Are you sure?" The receptionist asked incredulously and at the same time seemed to hold herself back from laughing. It really seemed like a joke to her. What could this strange man want with Gotham's Golden Star?

"I need to deliver this to her." Arthur showed the VHS tape, hoping it would guarantee his free pass. "What room is she in?"

"Listen, I don't know how you got through security... but you certainly saw all those people out there. Everyone wants to talk to Y/N or just ask for an autograph. The problem is that none of you are allowed to be here."

"Autograph? I'm not here for the autograph! She wants to know m-my opinion about her new movie."

"I'm sure the only opinion that matters to her is that of the Academy of Oscars."

"You are not understanding... We are practically friends, she saved my life in that alley! Ask her! Say that Arthur Fleck is here... S-She... She will remember me!" While Arthur was stuck in his own words, the woman called the security guards.

The moment two men approached, Arthur realized that things were going very, very badly. In his mind everything seemed easy. He found Y/N and she was happy to see him, but in practice he hadn't reached the elevator yet and the security guards were already putting him out.

"Wait! You got it wrong..." He tried to explain and get rid of the men who were holding him, but the receptionist just shook her head, telling them to get him out of the lobby before the residents showed up to see this show. This would not be good for the hotel's image. "I just want to see Y/N..."

"That's what everyone wants." One of the men said, laughing.

"And I wanted her to dance for me." The other security guard confessed, sighing sadly, while that desire would remain only in his dirty imagination.

Near the main door of the luxurious hotel, they treated Arthur like trash, throwing him on the sidewalk. The poor man managed to maintain his balance and remain standing with the little dignity that remained, but that disappeared as soon as a painful laugh cut his throat.

"Go back to your filthy home! You are too old for this fan and idol thing."

...

When the elevator doors opened, Brian left the metal box accompanied by two officers. Because of the police's satisfactory commitment in this case – obviously Y/N's status contributed to this – the actress received good news. The stolen supplies from the institution were found in a shed and a man was caught in the act. Other suspects are still being sought, but the only piece that doesn’t fit, is that the owner of this shed is Thomas Wayne, candidate for mayor and also owner of WayneCorp.

"Tell Miss. Y/L/N that we will capture the responsible."

"Or those responsible." The other officer added, reinforcing his commitment to the citizens of Gotham.

As soon as the officers left the building, Brian intended to go back to Y/N's room and check on her, mainly after receiving new information about the case, but his plans were interrupted by Susan, the receptionist. She showed a big smile, waving, and he approached the counter trying to look friendly.

"Hey, Susan! How was your day?"

"You know, check-in, check-out... The same things." She laughed, shaking her head. Her job was not exciting, but it paid her bills. That was enough. "I saw the cops... Do they have any suspects?" Curiosity was plastered on her face and Brian sighed, fully understanding why she had called for him. Gossip.

"Unfortunately I can't give too many details, but they are doing a good job." He stated, satisfied with the investigations.

"I don't know if that can help anything, but maybe he participated in the theft..." The woman murmured. The words seemed to be directed at herself, like a loud thought, but the bodyguard was unable to ignore and asked:

"What are you talking about, Susan?"

"A man was here looking for Miss. Y/L/N. His insistence scared me. He was determined to go into her room, only God knows what he intended to do, so I called the security guards, they put the man out. But Carl saw him across the street for three days straight."

"You did the right thing. It's unbelievable how Gothan became a fucking asylum!"

"Do you think I don't know? Sometimes it feels like we're living in hell... But the freak left his name. Arthur Fleck. I don't know if it's real, but you should check with the police."

"I will do this... Wait! Did you say Arthur Fleck?" Brian questioned, as confusion appeared on his face. That name was familiar to him.

"It's a strange name for a strange guy."

If it were possible, a lamp would be shining next to Brian's head right now. Arthur Fleck is the name of the guy with the big shoes.

Without any explanation, Brian ran for the elevator, leaving Susan extremely confused behind. When he arrived at the actress' room, he found her talking on the phone. She didn't look happy.

"Oh, he does not want to talk to me? Very busy, huh? You know I don't like to get involved in these problems... but he started it, Alfred!" Y/N had crossed her limit. The only thing she wanted to do was talk to Thomas Wayne about the NGO supplies that magically appeared in his shed, but that would be impossible. Alfred insisted, saying that the billionaire was at an important business meeting and that he had no connection to the theft. "Okay, I will not insist. Maybe when you regain your senses, you understand my side. Have a nice day, Alfred!" She ended the call and looked at Brian.

"I can't believe you called Thomas..."

"Likewise when he called the mayor’s office trying to ban the showing of Midnight Seduction." The actress argued, showing a fake smile. "These NGOs that I help, they are hindering his path, it is not very difficult to see. You know how men like Thomas Wayne build their empires. It's not pretty."

"God, I know... but be careful what you say. It is a very serious accusation." He advised, concerned for her safety. Y/N just walked over to the table in the center of the room, picking up her glass of scotch and drinking all the amber liquid.

"Don't worry, I'm used to white-collar men."

"Oh, I can see it, but I hope you're used to clowns too, because I have news about the guy with the big shoes." Brian started, capturing her attention immediately.

"Arthur was here?" Y/N's voice took on a hopeful tone and a beautiful smile formed on her lips. For a moment it was as if all her problems were gone.

"Well..." Brian cleared his throat, choosing the right words to tell her, but deep down he knew it wouldn't work. "Arthur was committed to seeing you, but Susan did not allow his entry."

"Why she did it? Usually she talks to me first..."

"It is the protocol, but in this case she considered his behavior to be atypical. I don't know if he was nervous and had another fit of laughter in the middle of the lobby, but she believed that he could present you with some danger or even be involved in the theft of the NGO... The security guards kicked him out."

For the first time in this conversation, Y/N didn't know what to say. The words were stuck in her throat. She felt stupid for not giving Arthur her number or simply putting his name on the reception list. Any of these options would have avoided the embarrassment he went through.

"Maybe you should talk to him. Do you know where he lives." The blond-haired man suggested. It was clear as the day outside that Y/N was silently blaming herself for what happened and that was not fair to her. "What do you think?"

"Arthur possibly hates me now..." She murmured, walking across the room. First he was beaten in a dark alley and now humiliated, practically compared to a criminal. All Y/N wanted at the moment was to go down to the lobby to clarify some points with Susan, but Brian was right. Talking to Arthur is the best she could do. "Prepare the car."

"What? Now?" The surprise was tangible in his voice.

"I don't know, maybe next month?" She rolled her eyes. "You have an appointment?"

"No, but you have." Brian added, crossing his arms. It took a few minutes, but as soon as the actress finally remembered, her mouth opened in a perfect O.

"The dinner with Charles is today! I completely forgot!"

"And before that I need to get Misty. If she gets here with the makeup artist and you're on the other side of town, we'll be in big trouble."

"Maybe not." Y/N smiled.

...

"If Misty finds out where we are..."

"First: You need to calm down. Second: She will only know if you open your mouth and tell her." Y/N listed it on her fingers and then took off her sunglasses, looking at the building across Winslow Avenue. "Just trust me."

"I think I will regret this later." He whispered to himself, leaving the interior of the car and opening the door for her. Y/N accepted the help and together they went to the entrance to the building. The next step would be to find out which floor Arthur lived with his mother. "And now what do we do, genius?"

"I confess I didn't think about that part..." The actress replied, looking around curiously. The place was nothing like the luxurious buildings in downtown. There was no lobby to ask for information and the reality here was completely different.

"Do you need help?" Brian and Y/N were surprised by a female voice and found a woman near the building's front door, holding some groceries from the market.

"Oh, hi!" Y/N smiled as the woman approached where they were. "We are a little lost... Do you know which floor Arthur Fleck lives on?" After that question, a mixture of confusion and surprise appeared on the woman's face.

She didn't believe it when Arthur said that a downtown girl saved his life, especially when that girl was the Gotham's Golden Star. It seemed impossible, but now Y/N Y/L/N was here, asking to see him.

Abandoning these thoughts, Sophie smiled, agreeing immediately.

"You are lucky. Arthur and I live on the same floor, I can accompany you there."

The actress smiled appreciatively and Brian offered to help with the bags from the grocery store. As soon as they were inside the metal box, the woman pressed the number 8 button and looked at Y/N, saying:

"By the way, I’m Sophie Dumond."

"Nice to meet you, Sophie. I am..."

"Oh, I know who you are." She stated, dispensing with the introduction. "I mean... Gotham breathes you!"

"Sometimes it is strange to open the window and see your own face on a billboard or on TV." Y/N confessed. The fame was glamorous, but sometimes suffocating.

"It sure is better than opening the window and seeing a pile of garbage. This is the privileged view we have here." The woman argued, laughing at the situation and the elevator stopped on the eighth floor. "Well, Arthur lives there." After leaving the metal box, she pointed to the end of the hall and while Brian helped her with the bags from the grocery store, Y/N thanked Sophie for the information and walked to the location indicated.

Looking at the "8J" sign, she took a deep breath, wishing she had a mirror nearby to check her appearance. She wanted to be presentable to finally meet Arthur again, even though he might be mad at her. Gathering courage, Y/N knocked on the door. To her disappointment, no one came. The apartment continued in absolute silence.

"Don't tell me there is no one at home." Brian appeared beside her. Realizing that the actress was anxious, he knocked on the door again, with more insistence this time. "We can come back another day..."

Without a better option, Y/N was ready to go back to the elevator, when the door was opened unexpectedly, revealing a woman on the other side.

"Hello, you must be Arthur's mother! I'm Y/N and this is Brian, we are friends of your son."

–––––––––––––––––

a/n – I really don't know if anyone is going to read this, but I would be happy to know what you think of the story :)

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 5: Nephew

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

Whoops it took me longer to update this than I planned, but it turns out that moving states takes time and effort.  Hopefully I’ll be able to update every other week for the last two chapters, but we’ll have to see.  In the meantime, enjoy the crew fawning over sick Zuko and a sudden appearance from a certain beloved uncle.

Again, this fic is inspired by @muffinlance‘s fic Salvage and fanart that @agent-jaselin did of it.

——————————————————————————————

              It started with a sneeze, the day after they fished Zuko out of the ocean for the second time.

              “Aw, you sneeze like a raccoon-kitten,” Toklo cooed. Zuko glared at him.  Then sneezed again, louder.  A few sparks appeared with the second sneeze.  “Uh, little firebenders sneeze fire?”

              “I’m not little,” Zuko growled. “But…yes.”  He sneezed again.  Toklo hurriedly stomped out any sparks that landed on the deck.

              “This won’t end well,” Panuk said quietly.

----- 

              The sneeze progressed to a full-body cough, one that was so obviously agonizing it made the crewmen wince in sympathy.

              “We need to follow you around with a bucket,” Aake rumbled, watching Panuk and Toklo rush to put out yet another fire. It appeared that accidentally producing flames wasn’t something reserved for sneezing.  Zuko sat down on the deck, even paler than usual.  He coughed again.

              “That might be a good idea,” Panuk agreed, hurrying to stomp out the new sparks.  Zuko let out a low groan.  Aake pressed the back of his hand against Zuko’s forehead.  He quickly removed it.

              “You’re sick, kiddo,” he said to Zuko.  His voice had more affection in it than he’d realized he had for the boy.  Zuko looked up at him, eyes already glazed over with fever.  “Someone better take him to the healer right away.  When someone this young gets sick, it can go bad fast.”

              “Come on, little brother,” Toklo said, scooping Zuko into his arms.  “Wow, you’re warm.”

              “No, ‘m cold,” Zuko mumbled blearily.  He let out another hacking cough.  Toklo carried Zuko to the infirmary while Panuk stayed behind to put out the third accidental fire of the day.

----- 

              As Zuko’s condition worsened further, he became less and less willing to leave his pile of furs.  Eventually, he could only leave the infirmary if carried out.  The crewmen checked in near constantly.  At first, it was just Toklo, Panuk, and Hakoda. Then Bato.  When Aake began to stop by to inquire as to the toddler’s health, Kustaa knew it was official.

              Zuko had wormed his way into the heart of every crewman.

              “I’m surprised by how frequently you poke your head in,” Kustaa remarked to Aake.  Aake stroked Zuko’s hair.

              “He reminds me so much of Sitka, especially when he’s wearing blue,” Aake said, keeping his voice soft so as to not wake up the sleeping toddler.

              “All Zuko had to do to win you over was be turned into a four-year-old.”

              “Hmph.”

              “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed you only stop by when he’s asleep.”  Kustaa smirked at Aake.  “You don’t want him to know how much you’ve come to like him.”  Aake rolled his eyes.  “Maybe once he’s better, you can be another uncle of his.”  The door to the infirmary opened.

              “Come on, Kustaa.  Let a man miss his son in peace,” Bato said, entering.  “Aake, you’re needed on deck.”

              “On my way.”  Aake’s hand lingered on the crown of Zuko’s head for a moment before he got up and left.

              “How is he?” Bato asked Kustaa.  Kustaa sighed.

              “Sick and getting sicker.”

              “Any idea what it is?”

              “Not yet.”  Kustaa looked at Zuko.  “The kid should wake up soon, and once he does, I’m going to ask a few questions about his symptoms.  I’m starting to wonder if it’s something only seen in the Fire Nation.”  Bato frowned, concerned.

              “If it’s a Fire Nation illness, would you be able to cure it?”

              “Depends on what it is.  I have the instructions for treatments of a few Fire Nation maladies,” Kustaa said.  “Not as many as I’d like, though.”  Faint stirring came from Zuko’s pile of furs, along with a weak groan.  “Are you up, nephew?”

              “I’m up,” Zuko mumbled, fighting his way free. He sat up and stretched.  “Did you want something, Bato?”

              “I just wanted to check in on the sick little pygmy puma,” Bato replied.  He ruffled Zuko’s hair.  “Feeling better?”

              “I’m not feeling worse.”  Zuko let out a hacking cough.  “Never mind.  I am.” Bato raised an eyebrow.  “What?”

              “No sparks?”

              “He hasn’t produced fire on accident for a few days now,” Kustaa said, coming over.  He put the back of his hand against Zuko’s forehead.  “Hmm.  Your fever’s getting worse.”

              “Can he firebend on purpose?” Bato asked.

              “He is right here,” Zuko grumbled.

              “Zuko, would you mind trying to create a small flame?” Kustaa requested.  Zuko held out his hands.  His brow wrinkled in concentration.  The only thing emitted, however, was a weak puff of smoke.  “Hmm.”  Kustaa stroked his beard thoughtfully.  “Bato, could you get him something to eat?”

              “Will do.”  Bato gently lifted Zuko.  “Candy and sea prunes, right?”  Kustaa frowned at him.

              “Tummy hurts too much,” Zuko said blearily. “Not hungry.”

              “Broth it is,” Bato said.  He carried Zuko out of the infirmary.  Kustaa took down his most thorough book on illnesses.

              He can’t firebend…maybe that’s the symptom that will allow me to finally diagnose him.

----- 

              Hakoda knocked gently on the door of the infirmary.

              “Come in,” said Kustaa’s calm voice.  Hakoda entered, closing the door softly behind him.

              “Any luck?” Hakoda asked.

              “Some,” Kustaa said from his spot by Zuko’s side. He gently draped a blanket over the sleeping boy.  “I’ve figured out what he has.  It’s called bender’s burnout.  It’s an illness only firebenders can have, caused by the bender’s inner flame being stifled.” Kustaa got up and walked over to his desk.  He pulled out a book.  “According to this, hypothermia or a near-drowning are the primary means by which an inner flame is stifled enough to cause bender’s burnout.”  Hakoda swore softly.

              “This happened because he went overboard again?” he asked.  Kustaa eyed Hakoda.

              “Before I identified the illness, I knew that was the cause,” Kustaa said.

              “Yes, but-”  Hakoda shook his head.  “He didn’t get this specific illness when we fished him out the first time.  Why now?”

              “Apparently, bender’s burnout is most common in the very young, because their inner flames tend to be weaker.  As a teenager, Zuko���s inner flame was strong enough to hold his own in a firefight.  As a child, well.  You’ve seen how much effort it takes him to even make sparks.”

              “What’s the cure?”

              “I don’t know,” Kustaa said softly.  His lips flattened into a thin line.  “None of my texts have information on afflictions that only affect firebenders.  I was lucky to stumble across what I did: symptoms and the cause.”  Zuko coughed weakly from his pile of furs.  Hakoda looked over at the boy.  Zuko’s already pale skin was corpse-white, his forehead shone with a thin sheen of sweat, yet he was shivering intensely.  “If we hope to cure him, we’ll need to find a healer who has expertise on firebenders.”

              “Where would we find one of those?”

              “We could try the next port,” Kustaa said with a shrug.  “People believe us when we say Zuko is a war bastard for a reason.  There’s a lot of them.  And where there are firebenders, there are healers who know how to treat them.”

              “There’s no other way to help Zuko?” Hakoda asked softly.  A long moment passed.  Kustaa shook his head.

              “Bender’s burnout doesn’t go away on its own.  It needs to be treated.  And I don’t know how.”  Zuko tossed fitfully in his sleep.

              “How long does he have?”

              “I’m not sure,” Kustaa admitted.  “But my nephew is far more stubborn than anyone else I’ve met.  As long as I can continue to manage his symptoms, he should hang on until we make port again.”  Hakoda walked over to Zuko.  He brushed sweat-drenched hair out of the boy’s face.  Zuko leaned into the gesture with a faint smile.  Hakoda’s heart ached.  Zuko was so young, too young.

              “I’ll tell everyone we’re changing course. We’ll head for the nearest port.”

----- 

              The Akhlut finally arrived at a bustling Earth Kingdom town.  Hakoda carried Zuko, buried in furs, off the ship.  Kustaa followed close behind.  They approached the first person they saw.

              “Excuse me, but we need a healer,” Hakoda said urgently.

              “Ryo is-” the man started.  Kustaa stepped forward.

              “We need one specializing in firebender ailments,” he said softly.  The man’s eyes widened.

              “I hope we can trust you,” Hakoda said.  He put as much weight into the words as he could.

              “Of course,” the man said.  “My son’s best friend is a war bastard.  The boy goes to Healer Lee, on the outskirts of town.”

              “Thank you,” Hakoda said gratefully.  He reached into his pockets for money.  The man shook his head.

              “Save your money for your…”

              “Nephew,” Kustaa said.

              “Save the money for him.”

              “Thank you,” Hakoda repeated.  Zuko let out a weak cough.  “Hang in there, Nuktuk.”

----- 

              This town was lovely.  Iroh enjoyed the friendly townspeople.  But he couldn’t help being disappointed.  It was yet another dead end.  He had yet to find any sign of his missing nephew anywhere.

              In a sea of green and brown, there was a sudden burst of blue.  Iroh looked curiously at the two Water Tribe men rushing through the crowded town square. His eyes widened.  They were the same men he’d seen shortly before he arrived at the North Pole.  Iroh’s heart sank as he realized that one man wasn’t just carrying furs; a young boy was hidden within them.

              What was the boy’s name?  Nuktuk?  Nuktuk looked deathly ill.  Concerned for the boy’s health, Iroh followed from a safe distance.  They had just exited town when Nuktuk began to thrash in his father’s arms.

              “Lemme down, lemme down!” Nuktuk whined loudly. “I gotta-”  Nuktuk’s father (step-father, more likely – the boy seemed to be a war bastard) hurriedly set the boy on the ground.  Nuktuk stumbled forward and vomited.  His father knelt next to him, rubbing his back.

              “Are you okay to be carried again, Zuko?” the man asked.  Iroh’s breath caught in his throat.  The boy straightened.  Now close enough to see him well, there was no doubt as to who the child was.  Iroh would recognize his nephew anywhere, with or without the horrid scar on his face.

              What have the spirits done?

              “Zuko, we need to go to the healer,” said the second man.  Zuko nodded. “Can the chief pick you up again?”

              “I…”  Zuko trailed off.  He had caught sight of Iroh.  Their eyes met.  “Uncle!” Zuko sprinted away from the men, directly for Iroh.  Iroh dropped to his knees.  He held his arms out.  Zuko collided with him.

              “Prince Zuko,” Iroh croaked, embracing his nephew as tightly as he could.  He could feel Zuko’s fever through his clothes.  “Nephew, what are you doing?”

              “Seeing a healer,” Zuko replied.  Iroh held him out at arm’s length.  Zuko’s beautiful golden eyes, normally sharp like a hawk’s, were unfocused and cloudy with fever.

              “You certainly need one.”

              “Excuse me?”  Iroh looked up.  The tribesmen had walked over.  Iroh stood. He kept a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Are you really his uncle?  General Iroh?”

              “Yes, I am,” Iroh said.  Zuko smiled at him.  “I have many questions, but I think they can wait until my nephew has seen a healer.”  The men looked relieved.

              “That would be best, yes,” said one.  “We got directions from someone in the village.”  Iroh picked Zuko up.  Zuko nestled against his chest.

              “Lead the way,” Iroh said firmly.

----- 

              Iroh and the tribesmen sat outside the healer’s house.  Zuko had been treated, but needed to rest for a while before the healer would let him leave.

              “We should probably introduce ourselves,” one of the tribesmen said abruptly.  “I am Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe.  My companion is our healer, Kustaa.”  Healer Kustaa bowed his head.

              “Why did you need to bring Zuko to a different healer, if you had one?” Iroh asked.

              “I’m not well-versed in firebender ailments,” Healer Kustaa replied.  Iroh hummed softly.

              “By the way, thank you, General, for not attacking when you saw Zuko,” Chief Hakoda said.  Iroh leaned back.

              “You don’t get to be my age as a soldier unless you learn to take stock of a situation fast,” Iroh said.  “The immediate concern was my nephew’s health, not you.”  He chuckled softly.  “Not to offend you or anything.”

              “No, I understand,” Chief Hakoda said.  He leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “But I still appreciate it.  To be frank, we wouldn’t have stood a chance against you.”  Iroh chuckled again.

              “I know.  So, how did you come to have my nephew with you?  I received a letter from a friend in the Northern Water Tribe telling me you had Zuko, but the letter didn’t provide many details.”

              “We pulled him out of the ocean, half-dead,” Healer Kustaa said.

              “Thankfully, the spirits stepped in, ensuring you rescued a young boy.  If you had come across a Fire Nation teenager, you would have had a drastically different reaction.”  The tribesmen looked at him, bemused.  “I have seen firsthand the realities of war; I know what would have happened if you stumbled across someone old enough to be a soldier for the opposing side.”

              “He wasn’t a toddler when we rescued him,” Chief Hakoda said slowly.  “That particular…situation is more recent.”

              “Then you are bigger men than I would have been in my days as a soldier,” Iroh said.  The men exchanged a look.  Clearly, they were holding something back.  But Iroh knewit would be best to wait patiently for further information, rather than immediately pry.  “Thank you for taking care of him.”

              “Well, the kid’s more endearing than he realizes,” Healer Kustaa said.  “Our youngest crewmen befriended him quickly.  Once he had them on his side, it was all over.”  Iroh beamed.

              “I’m very glad to hear that he has been working on his social skills.  My nephew tends to struggle to make friends.”  Iroh adjusted his seat slightly.  “How long has Prince Zuko been like this?”

              “A handful of months.  He’s actually spent more time with us as a toddler than as a teenager,” Chief Hakoda said.  “And before you ask, we don’t know why the spirits did this to him.”

              “Zuko might know,” Healer Kustaa said suddenly. Chief Hakoda and Iroh looked at him. “The incident that made him fall overboard, which caused him to get so sick?  He’s been talking about it in his sleep.  Most of what he says is nonsense, since he’s been so feverish.  But every now and then, he mumbles something about talking to a young woman in the moon.”

              “The young woman…”  Iroh leaned forward.  “Prince Zuko wouldn’t happen to be calling her by name, would he?”  Healer Kustaa raised an eyebrow.

              “He’s called her Yue.”

              “A Water Tribe name,” Chief Hakoda remarked.

              “Yes, but also the name of the new Moon Spirit,” Iroh said.  Chief Hakoda and Healer Kustaa sobered immediately.

              “We heard about that,” Chief Hakoda said. “Like everyone else, we saw the moon go dark.  When we crossed paths with our sister tribe, they informed us of the tragedy that happened during the Siege of the North.”

              “Yes.  It was most distressing,” Iroh said solemnly.  “I was there.”  The door of the healer’s home opened.

              “He’s awake now,” Healer Lee said.  Zuko toddled out of the house.  “Kustaa, come inside, I’ll go over the continuation of his treatment.”  Healer Kustaa nodded.  He got up and followed Healer Lee inside, ruffling Zuko’s hair on his way.  Zuko sat between the two men.  He beamed at Iroh.

              “I thought I had only dreamed that you were back,” Zuko said happily.  Iroh rested the back of his hand against his nephew’s forehead.  The boy was still feverish, but whatever the healer had done clearly put him on the mend.

              “No, Prince Zuko, I’ve found you,” Iroh said warmly. A strange look crossed Zuko’s face. He looked down at his adorably minute feet.

              “Just Zuko, Uncle,” he mumbled.  Iroh hid his surprise at the request.

              “If you insist, nephew.”  The enormous smile was back.

              “Are you going to join the ship?” Zuko chirped. His grin broadened.  “You could get a fake name, too!”

              “I was hoping that the Water Tribe would be kind enough to let me accompany you, yes,” Iroh said with a nod.  Chief Hakoda grimaced.  “Chief Hakoda, I recognize that you would not be comfortable with two firebenders aboard your ship, but-”  The chief was already shaking his head.

              “You seem a sensible man, General.  As such, you should understand that it’s not my comfort I need to think of, but the comfort of my men.  They would not want the Dragon of the West on our ship.” Iroh’s heart sunk.  He bowed his head.

              “Yes, I understand.”

              “What?  But- Uncle!” Zuko whined.  Iroh put a gentle hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

              “Nephew, what is right may not be what I want to do. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it. What is right is that the men who have helped you so much stay comfortable.  I cannot be on the ship.”  He squeezed Zuko’s shoulder, his heart heavy.  “And what is right is that you continue to be treated for your illness. You need to stay with Chief Hakoda, so that Healer Kustaa can take care of you.”

              “But-”

              “Chief Hakoda,” Iroh said abruptly.  “Is your ship headed for a specific destination?”

              “Yes.”  Chief Hakoda eyed Iroh.  “Can I trust you with it?”

              “Pakku trusts him,” Zuko piped up.  “I trust him.  Isn’t that enough?”  Chief Hakoda wavered for a moment before sighing.

              “Fine.  We’re headed to Chameleon Bay, to help the Earth Kingdom Army protect Ba Sing Se.”

              “I’ll meet you there.”  Iroh smiled at Zuko.  “Maybe during my travels, I’ll stumble across a way to return you to your appropriate age.”  Zuko’s eyes widened.  Healer Kustaa emerged from the house.

              “Come on, nephew, you need to lay down for more rest,” Healer Kustaa said, taking Zuko’s hand.  Iroh tensed.  “Oh.” Healer Kustaa managed a wry smile. “When he was feverish and ill shortly after we brought him on board, he mistook me for you and called me ‘uncle’. Since then, I’ve called him my nephew.”

              “…I see,” Iroh said slowly.  He stood.  “I should leave.  It will take me longer to arrive at Chameleon Bay, given I won’t be traveling by ship.”

              “Before you leave,” Chief Hakoda said, standing as well, “would you please tell me what happened at the North Pole?  Our sister tribe didn’t inform us of any of the specifics, just that the Avatar had been involved in the battle and that the Moon Spirit was killed and revived.”

              “It may have been too painful,” Iroh said. “I am more than willing to share with you what I witnessed.  But if you don’t mind, I’d like to say goodbye to my nephew.”  Chief Hakoda nodded.  Iroh turned to Zuko.  He knelt on the ground.  “Nephew…” Zuko pulled free of Healer Kustaa’s hold and rushed forward to embrace Iroh.

              “I don’t want you to leave, Uncle,” he whispered. Iroh rubbed Zuko’s back.

              “I know, Zuko.  But remember what I said.  I can’t do what I want.  I must do what is right.”  Iroh removed something from his pocket, an item he had been holding on to since Zuko was lost at sea.  “Here.” He handed the knife to Zuko.  Zuko took it from him with awe in his eyes. “Do you remember this?”

              “Never give up without a fight,” Zuko said softly. Iroh smiled.

              “That’s right.  You are waging many battles right now, young nephew.  But keep fighting.”

              “I will, Uncle,” Zuko said, holding the knife close to his chest.  Iroh ruffled his hair.

              “Good.  Then I will see you soon.”  Iroh stood and watched Healer Kustaa lead his nephew away.  Once Zuko was out of sight, he turned to Chief Hakoda.  “I am willing to share my stories, but I would like more information as to my nephew’s stay with you in return.”  Chief Hakoda nodded.

              “I expected as such.”  The men began to walk together.  “Where would you like me to start?”  Iroh sighed, glad to ask the question he’d had since he saw Zuko.

              “Why is my nephew dressed like a Water Tribe child?”

----- 

              “Hold that pose,” Toklo instructed.  Zuko wobbled slightly.  “C’mon, little brother, just a bit longer!”  Zuko’s legs gave out.  He collapsed to the deck, coughing.  “Maybe we should go back to the basics.”

              “No, those katas are for babies,” Zuko snapped.  He coughed again.  Hakoda, who had been observing Zuko’s practice, crouched next to him.

              “You’re only four and recovering from an illness. Pushing yourself right now would do more harm than good,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.  “Once you’ve stopped coughing so much, you can move on to the more complicated forms.  But for now, I agree with Toklo.”  Zuko scowled.

              Zuko’s treatment involved him actively practicing firebending.  The healer had informed Kustaa that Zuko developed bender’s burnout in large part due to Zuko restricting his firebending to simple meditations.

              “He said to me, ‘Water Tribe people might not be very educated, but that’s no excuse for making a young bender suppress his art.  No matter the element, if they avoid bending, they’ll become ill,’” Kustaa vented angrily once Hakoda had returned to the ship.  “I tried to tell him that the kid didn’t want to bend, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

              “Zuko needs to practice firebending, then, to get better?” Hakoda asked.  Kustaa nodded.

              “And to stave off future bending-related illnesses.  He gave me a scroll with forms for children Zuko’s age.”  Kustaa handed Hakoda said scroll.  “My nephew probably already knows most of these forms, but I guess we could use them as a reference to make sure he’s doing them right.”

              Hakoda took the scroll from Toklo and looked over the forms for the easiest.

              “Turtle-duck pose,” he instructed.  Zuko scowled, but did as he was told.  “Good work, kid.”  Zuko’s scowl was replaced with a grin that stretched ear to ear.

              Initially, Zuko had brushed off any compliments he got on his bending forms.  Hakoda had a feeling that Zuko’s reaction was because he didn’t believe them. Thankfully, it only took a week for the boy to shift gears from doubt to exuberance at being told he had done a good job.

              “Chief?” Bato called from his spot at the ship’s bow. Hakoda ruffled Zuko’s hair, handed the scroll back to Toklo, and walked to his second-in-command.

              “What is it?” Hakoda asked.  Bato handed him a spyglass silently.  When Hakoda looked through it, he swore.  “Fire Nation.”

              “Yes.”  Bato’s face darkened as he stared in the direction of the ship he’d spotted.  “And they’ve definitely seen us.  We won’t be able to avoid battle.”

              “You’re right.”  Hakoda swallowed.  “Hopefully, Zuko will sleep through it.”

              “He’s a light sleeper.”

              “Not lately.  Being sick can make you sleep like the dead.”  Hakoda handed the spyglass back to Bato.  “I’ll inform the crew to prepare for battle.”  Hakoda looked back at Zuko.  The toddler was unsteadily working through the basic firebending forms for Toklo.  “And I’ll see if Kustaa can put him to bed earlier than usual, so that he misses the fight.”

----- 

              Zuko did sleep through the entire battle. Better than that, however, was that no one on the ship had fallen.  Any blood stains or scorch marks on the deck were hurriedly scrubbed away before Zuko could see, though he did get told the day after.  Like before, Zuko sat watch with a small flame in his palms.

              The rest of the trip passed by without incident. Not just Hakoda, but the crew as a whole felt a swell of pride as Zuko became more confident in his bending practice, progressing from the basic steps to the intermediate ones quickly.  Well, the ones considered intermediate for his age. The boy was eager to begin the advanced movements, but Hakoda felt they were still beyond his ability.  Not to mention, the advanced katas seemed more likely to accidentally set the boat on fire.

              “Finally!” Zuko whooped as they landed at Chameleon Bay. “I miss dry land.”  Scattered chuckles sounded among the crew.  Bato stopped him from rushing down the gangplank after Hakoda.

              “Hold on, little warrior.  Before we come ashore, the Chief needs to meet with whoever’s in charge.”  Zuko cocked his head curiously at Bato.

              “Isn’t Chief Hakoda in charge?  I thought he was the leader of the entire Southern Fleet.”

              “He is, but it’s still important to announce ourselves to the person that has been running things.  Once we’ve settled in, the Chief will take over.”

              “The Chief also needs to let the other men know we’ve got a Fire Nation brat on board,” Aake added.  Zuko frowned at him.  “Otherwise, you might get a chilly welcome.”

              “I guess,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms. Bato ruffled his hair.

              “Go help Kustaa take stock of the infirmary supplies while we figure things out, okay?” Bato said.  Zuko sighed and toddled off.  Bato shook his head, hiding a smile.  “Damn kid really weaseled his way into all of our hearts.”

              “I’m taking bets on how quickly he does the same to the tribesmen already here,” Panuk drawled.  “So far, no one’s put anything down on it taking any longer than a month.”

              “Well, yeah, those odds are too slim,” Toklo said. “My little brother’s gonna have everyone eating out of his hand in a couple weeks at most.  Especially with his lingering cough.”  According to Kustaa, Zuko was no longer ill.  His occasional coughs were just the result of his sickness irritating his throat.

              “I agree,” Bato said.  “‘Nuktuk’ has a very endearing backstory.”  He looked at Panuk.  “Put me down for twelve days.”

[blackchessknight]

Ever Blue And Red

By @blackchessknight for @michellejones-stacy

This was really fun to write, I hope you like it. The premise is not what I expected to write from your prompts but that’s how creativity works I guess.

This is for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark,

Summary: To be fair to Peter, he had never planned to become an Enhanced individual that protected people by being bitten by a radioactive spider and becoming Spider-Man. Really, it made perfect sense that even if he hadn’t planned it, he would turn into a siren at the splash of water by eating a weird-looking fruit he found on patrol.

If anything, it was Mr. Stark and Aunt May’s fault because they made him eat something healthy every two hours. If the rule wasn’t there, he wouldn't have touched the fruit. Ok, that was a lie, he might have tried it just because it looked weird, but maybe somebody would have stopped him from consuming it if he didn’t have the eating rule.

On the bright side, keeping this a secret from them wouldn’t be as hard as keeping Spider-Man a secret, he has experience this time.

Spoiler Alert: He doesn’t even last a week.

Read on AO3

First chapter under the cut

Tail As Blue As The Sky Enveloped In Light

Peter wants it known for posterity's sake that it wasn’t his fault.

The case could be made that it was, indeed, his fault, but no judge had made the ruling and he was sticking to that fact. Not that it does anything to persuade the jury from condemning him to being grounded for two weeks after.

It all started that fateful day on patrol, spring break only a few days away. Sure, Peter had a lot of assignments to turn in, but not anything that couldn’t be done just before it was absolutely necessary. The most annoying were the essays for English and History, but hey, even STEM schools needed their students to course them. Anyways, since Peter would be spending the break over at the Compound with Mr. Stark while Aunt May took the week with her coworkers at the Caribbean-very likely being joined by Ms. Potts at some point- the last weekend hadn’t been a Compound weekend. It’d worked great for Peter, he got to hang out with Ned before the break where the other boy would go see family, and also to spend time with May.

It's a bright April afternoon as he swings from the buildings with not much happening when Peter comes across a small playground area with a few trees and some grass parts. The little park wasn’t rundown or badly taken care of and the trees were already a bright green. A few children call him over and he swings down to greet them. He even takes a few pictures with them.

On his way out of the park he sees it. Lying on the grass under a tree is a weird-looking acorn, it's purple with an orange stripe. Peter walks over and kneels down to pick it up. The texture feels closer to a peach and just as squishy. His senses weren’t going off in danger but it wasn’t like any fruit he’d ever seen in his life.

“Karen?” Peter asks.

Karen takes a few seconds before responding. “I haven’t found a match for it, but it appears to fall under the category of fruit.”

Hhmm. Well, that just made it more intriguing. There wasn’t much that Karen couldn’t identify. If the unknown fruit lasted long enough he could even ask FRIDAY or Mr. Stark about it, maybe run a few tests on it, perhaps he just discovered a new type of fruit. That sets it, Peter’s taking it with him.

Peter sets off to where he left his backpack webbed to an alley wall. He reaches the alley and his backpack is just where he left it, which is great-it wouldn’t be good to ask for another so close to the break, it was already his second one this year. Peter changes to normal clothes and proceeds to set the weird acorn inside the backpack, he doesn’t think anything in his back will squish it. With his backpack set, he begins making his way home in no hurry.

On the way, Peter plans all the assignments he needs to do for the week. It’s still early, he can go home to eat, do some homework and go out again to patrol another hour or two before curfew. There’s that calc and chemistry homework due for tomorrow that he’ll work on today. He’ll eat whatever May left for him, hopefully, she left money for Thai. May isn’t coming home until late, they were spending extra hours at the office before the break, half leaving things prepared for their vacation and half coordinating it. His mind travels to the movie Ned and him saw that weekend and the new Lego set they built. Then it takes him to his break at the Compound where he’ll get to train with Rhodey and work on his web-shooters, he’s also gonna work with Tony on the arc reactor and their prosthesis project. By the time Peter became aware he was already in the front of his apartment building.

Inside their apartment Peter finds out May hadn’t left money for Thai, instead there was a nice healthy meal waiting for Peter to warm up and eat. He supposes he should have known better. Peter shuts the fridge door and turns to his room. When May wasn’t able to ensure Peter ate, and ate something healthy at that, they got him these nice meals prepared from a nice restaurant that Pepper had found near their apartment. They all had him about being in a routine for eating healthy, he hadn’t eaten anything they thought wasn’t good for him in weeks. He was able to have a treat once or twice on the weekends if he had followed through during the week. Peter thought it wasn’t necessary anymore, he was perfectly fine now. He’d learned since his eating disorder started, but just try and get that through to them. Apparently, they had to trust the diagnosis more, which to be fair was really accurate, but still, he thought he was already past that.

Peter sits in front of his desk and takes out his chemistry book and worksheet. Maybe he’ll get hungry after working his mind a little, he begins to work.

The alarm on his watch startles him, a big contrast to the quiet room that makes it sound louder than it is. The alarm is a constant beeping that doesn’t cease until Peter presses the shut button twice, once to know there’s an alarm and a second to acknowledge what it's for.

Mr. Stark set the alarm for him to eat something healthy every two hours. They’d also been on his back about eating often and he usually ate a fruit or a bar. Peter looks around his desk, then his room, and notices there’s nothing of his usual stash. He doesn’t want to get up to get something, usually, there are always things nearby but he probably ate them all.

Peter remembers the weird fruit in his backpack from earlier, sure he wanted to research it but his priorities changed. He still has the analysis from Karen to ask FRIDAY with. Peter opens his backpack and fishes the fruit out, it looks exactly as it had when he found it. He doesn’t know what it is, but Karen said he could call it a fruit and he was allowed to eat fruit, since he also had to eat something he saw no flaw in his logic of eating it. Besides, if Karen said that he didn’t eat anything because he was too lazy to get up he would have Happy babysitting him again. No one wanted that. To Peter, the ends justify the risks.

Peter smells the unknown fruit and it gives no distinctive smell. Before taking a bite, he searches within himself for any signs of danger but when he finds nothing he bites it. It tastes good, feels softer than an apple but not quite like a peach as he’d thought. Oh well, it's still good, really good actually. He goes back to doing homework.

Minutes after his little snack break Peter begins to feel weird, not in a Spidey Sense tingling weird, nor it feels like something is happening to his arm weird, more like the insides of his body feel funny. Peter hasn’t ever felt like this before.

At first, Peter thinks it will go away and continues with his homework, but after he finishes his chemistry workout sheet the feeling has only increased. He doesn’t feel anything wrong though, just... different. He starts feeling a little sleepy, not in the sense that his body is tired, it feels like his own body is telling him to close his eyes and rest a little. So that is exactly what Peter does, he puts away his work, goes to his bed, and rests his eyes. It will only be for a bit, he still has time to go patrol a bit after resting a few minutes.

Those few minutes turn out longer than he thought. A lot longer. By the time Peter is opening his eyes feeling rested and just… different, the sun has already set and the night has fallen. The only source of light in the room is the lights coming from the streets through the closed window of his room.

Darn it! He probably had missed his dinner time! Peter looks wildly until he finds the digital clock on his nightstand that reveals he was still just within his time frame before Karen would alert Tony, or May. He’d been asleep far longer than he'd planned.

Peter is starving like he hasn’t in months, so much so he would eat that flavorless mush of food they’d made him eat that day at the Medbay after their “intervention”. He sets for the kitchen, takes out the plate with his food, and sets it in the microwave as the instructions show in the note.

You would think that Aunt May and Mr. Stark would be lenient that he missed his meal because he was sleeping but that was actually a very important point to them. Once he’d been awoken by a blaring alarm, it had almost given him a heart attack, he had thought it was an emergency, maybe the sky had been falling. It hadn’t been anything alarming other than him missing his snack. And not even mentioning that one time in class where he’d been called to the principal’s office for forgetting his snacks at home and Mr. Morita personally getting him a protein bar. That had been a horrible day. He still couldn’t really look Mr. Morita in the eyes.

The microwave beeped and Peter went to pull out the dish. He grabs a fork and napkin on the way to the couch. Karen may tattle about his food consumption but never where he eats. To be fair, Karen only has eyes in the suit mask, the rest of her input comes from his Starkwatch and Starkphone. Peter’s little humanoid golden robot, that he built with Tony’s help, C3PO, comes forward and sets his little arms up for Peter to place his plate on. Peter turns the TV on and settles back to continue his current series on Netflix.

Peter had been starving and food had never tasted so good in his life. He basically inhales it. Something not as good as he had been told but he was hungry. C3PO leaves with the napkin, the fork and the plate to the kitchen and Peter finishes his episode as he digests his food.

When the episode ends he gets up from the couch and walks to his room. As he walks in he sees R2D2, the little robot he’d made by himself at the lab in the Compound, having what seems his own little party in his room. R2 even has some music to dance with as he moves around the room.

Peter’s idea was to change again into his suit and patrol until his curfew but he feels a tug towards the water. He already did a patrol today, it had been a calm day. Peter decides he’ll settle for the night, finish some homework, and do more time on patrol tomorrow, he’ll make up for today then. Right now he will take a shower and finish his homework for Monday, be free for the entirety of the weekend.

C3 enters the room as Peter exits it to go to the bathroom. Peter might have programmed them with some personality traits reminiscent of their movie counterparts, and it usually ends with a bit of a friendly argument between the two. The good thing is Peter will be away while they do it, the bad thing is he’ll probably still hear them while he showers.

Peter takes off his clothes and sets his hand under the spray of water to feel its temperature. Once it’s to his liking he clambers inside headfirst. The water soaks his brown curls then covers his back. Peter backs his torso so his legs get sprayed with water and the change is fast, so fast it would probably be pretty seamless for anyone else. Peter doesn’t have time to react to the sudden feel of his legs knitting together and turning scaly before he loses balance with a startled yelp. Peter reaches out to the shower wall with a hand and sticks, stopping his fall but the momentum sends his back to hit the wall and Peter slides down, landing on his butt.

He blinks several times as he stares at his legs. Or more importantly, where his legs should be. In their place is a mermaid tail, just like the movies. It's a light blue like a clear skyline in New York mornings, with shiny scales that turn white when the light hits them and see-through red shaded fins. The tail seems to start at his hips but it fades up into his stomach with smaller scales, not a clear cut. Peter can feel the tail, he can feel it as if it were his legs but they feel different.

This isn’t normal, is it? This isn’t some long overdue side effect of the spider bite, right? This shouldn’t be happening, should it? There’s no way this is normal. This has got to be in the Top 10 weirdest things to happen to him. It fights for dominance right up there with the spider bite.

Peter takes a deep breath, he feels the fins and wills one to move as if it were his foot. In front of him, the fin moves. Peter shoves himself back startled, his head hits the other wall of the shower with force and he winces. He brings a hand to rub at his head, even if it doesn’t really make the pain lessen. He makes the other fin move, makes them both move at the same time, makes them move in opposite directions.

Peter stops playing with his fins. Wow, he has fins now, he has a tail. He can move the tail too. He has full control of it. It’s rather flexible too, more flexible than he’s become with his enhancements. Okay, so, he has a tail. He has a mermaid-merman?- he has a merman tail. He has a tail that is blue, and he can move it. It is right in front of him. Peter reaches for the middle of the tail with his finger and pokes it, sure enough he feels the poke, both in the tail and with his finger. It's real.

Alright, cool. So now that the shock has worn off it’s time to figure this out. Does this mean he can breathe underwater? Is he a merman now? Does he have to live in the Ocean? Would a lake suffice? His powers stayed, he was able to stick to the wall. Does that make him a Merman-Spider? Spider-Merman? Siren-Spider? Is he no longer allowed to eat fish? Do mermaids eat fish? Does this mean mermaids are real?

You’re getting distracted, Peter. Focus.

Was he a merman forever now? How did he even become one?

Yeah, focus on that. The how.

This isn't alien tech, that's for sure. He hasn't encountered anyone with alien tech in a while. That’s one out. So then… magic? Was magic real? Were there wizards? Was there actually a school for wizards? Oh gosh, that would be so cool. Like, Wanda Maximoff had magic, right? That's what she used? Or was that something else? It could have been magic, or maybe kinetic energy manipulation, that was also a possibility; but the idea of that being magic was always an option. Wait, he's getting sidetracked again.

Right, what caused this.

Ok, well, it couldn't be the spider bite either, it'd been far too long since and it didn’t make logical sense to be a result of it. Or... it could be if this was the product of a second reactant to the DNA alterations caused by the bite. Like, sure it would be weird to get a tail as a reaction, but so had gaining the powers of a spider through the bite of a radioactive spider; maybe they wanted to gain the powers of a fish and it mutated into a tail. Peter hadn't gone swimming recently and definitely hadn't been bitten by a fish but maybe he had, or eaten the radioactive fish by accident. He shouldn't have trusted that fillet, it had tasted too good. It could also just be a coincidence from another substance, really if this was a reaction he needed to know the second reactant.

Peter sees the water fall and splash on his tail and continue down the drain as he thinks. Water! Peter snaps his head to look at the showerhead. That was the reactant, water! The moment his legs got wet he got a tail!

Ok, so it wasn't a late side effect from the bite. That was good to know. It didn't rule out a reaction from the after-effects of the bite but it did give less evidence in its favour. So far the contenders are radioactive fish, reaction to his spider DNA, and magic. Only one of which Peter actually had knowledge of.

Peter sits up and moves forward to shut the water off. The tail was cool and all but he was kind of stuck in the tub. Peter lifts the end of his tail and moves the fins with narrowed eyes. He moves the fins close to the wall and then touches it, he wills them to stick and they do. Ok, he has better mobility than he thought he would. Feeling excitement fill him, Peter uses only his tail to lift his body and it works. He balances himself on his tail. He is definitely a Spider-Siren. He can stick, has strength, he assumes it also has his superhealing.

Peter grabs a towel from the rack and sits back down in the tub, he starts drying his upper body. The scales shimmer as he moves and Peter wonders if they would look the same dry. He sets the towel around his neck. Peter lifts himself from the tub and sits on the toilet lid, splaying the tail across the bathroom floor in all its glory before he grabs the towel around his neck. Peter starts drying his tail and the feeling is weird, he feels the towel through the scales and it’s closer to feeling something through his nails.

Peter has the sudden urge that his legs come back so he could experience the difference in them. Peter is scrubbing where the body of the tail meets the fins because it feels really good when the change happens. Peter senses the change a second before it happens but he is too confused at his Spider Sense telling him about it to notice what the change is . He lifts his head, dropping the towel, and looks around. Nothing is amiss and the sensation leaves. Peter turns back to pick up the towel and continue, now to try out the feel on his fins when he stops dead on his way to pick it up. His legs are back. His legs are back as if the tail was never there.

Peter pokes his legs, and just like the tail, they’re there. He moves them to make sure he has control over them, he does. He sets his palm on his leg and is surprised to find them completely dry, not even moist.

Peter looks back towards the shower, then he looks to his recently regained legs and back at the bathtub. He turns his head to his legs then the shower. Legs, shower, legs, shower. Peter bites his lower lip.

Like yeah, it could be a fluke and he may get stuck with a tail, but it could also be like his spider powers that he has control of. The tail disappeared when he dried it, it could be that if he gets his legs wet again the tail would return, and then it would disappear when he dries himself again.

What kind of scientist would he be if he didn't test out his hypothesis? He had to try. Besides, the worst thing that can happen is he has a tail, he'll figure it out later if he can’t dry it out. He has a feeling it will work anyways.

Peter fills the bathtub around three-quarters full. This is insane and just the type of experimenting he likes, trial and error. Taking a deep breath, he positions himself above the water holding himself by his arms, legs stretched out in front of him, parallel to the water below. All he needs to do is lower his arms and he will get his legs in the tub filled with water.

Peter lets out a little nervous laugh as he looks at the water. Like ripping off a bandaid. Peter takes another breath, releases it, and lets himself fall in one motion that splashes water over the tub’s edge.

The tail returns and this time Peter knows what he’s feeling. He realizes it's his legs morphing into a tail. It takes his legs a second to become a tail and it doesn’t hurt. It’s not a feeling he can put words to, other than from now on he can call the feeling his legs morphing into his tail. A part of the tail shimmers under the translucent water and his fins stay between water and air near where he thinks his knees would be-his tail is far too long to fit in the tub- while Peter moves it a little. He lifts the end of the tail and lets it smack back into the water, making a big splash that brings a joyous laugh from him. It worked as he’d suspected, the tail appears when his lower body gets splashed with water. Peter lifts himself from the bathtub and sits on the toilet seat.

Peter grabs the towel he first used to dry himself and begins to redry his tail. The same weird feeling of drying his scales returns. Willing his legs back as he dries Peter lifts the towel and grins. Where his blue tail had been are his legs once more.

Peter grins at the water, a rush of excitement cursing through his body. He has a tail now.

Just as abruptly his grin comes it falls and his heart begins to beat loudly in his chest. Oh god, he has a tail. He can't tell Aunt May, she'll freak out and ground him. And he can't tell Mr. Stark because he'll reprimand him, then tattle to May who will freak out and then they'll ground him together.

Ok, ok, ok. He can’t tell them, no big deal. He’s Spider-Man, he’s kept that a secret, he can keep this a secret. He has to figure this out first, then maybe he’ll tell them. If this is reversible they might never find out.

Does he want to reverse this? Food for thought.

He’ll figure all that out later. Right now Peter is going to take a bath, experiment a little, and then him and Karen will have a conversation about how much of a snitch the Babysitter Protocol makes her before starting his investigation.

[chiaki-translation]

New Year! Red and White Kakushigei Tournament! Event Translation Ch1-4

Actually, I’ll be going for a short holiday after today, so expect the next few chapters next week~

Short note before the translation part, I actually don’t know how to translate Kakushigei Tournament, it’s like a hidden talent/art competition? If I’m not wrong, it’s a variety show kind of stuffs where you perform unique talents. Few examples can be seen from the cards from this event, things like belly dance, cigar box juggling, ventriloquism, etc. If anyone knows more about what it is, please tell me cause I’m actually not that clear either~

New Year! Kakushigei Tournament Ch1-4 / / Ch5-8 / / Ch9-Epilogue

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Translator’s Note: I’m keeping it as Kakushigei throughout the story as it cannot be translated. ‘escape game’ refers to escape room type of game. The shrine that they visited in this story has already been visited during previous event in which I haven’t read the story, so do tell me if there’s any inconsistency in my translation.

Manager:

Then without further ado, I will announce the result of the voting…

A has 13 votes, B has 13 votes too!

It’s a draw!

Kumon:

Eh!?

Taichi:

Really!?

Kazunari:

But A is definitely better!

Citron:

No, no! It’s definitely B!

Itaru:

I think A is better.

Tasuku:

B’s better isn’t it.

Yuki:

A seems to be better.

Taichi:

It’s B! B should be the correct choice!

Director:

I didn’t expect this to be a draw. What to do…

Omi:

It’s a bit of a problem…

Tsumugi:

… Eh?

Anyway, where’s Chikage-san and Banri-kun?

Muku:

Ah, you’re right. They are not here.

Azami:

They were just here earlier, right?

Tsuzuru:

Ah, if it’s those two, most probably…

<Shifts to Road>

Banri:

… I managed to slip away, but I wonder if it’s alright.

Chikage:

It’s not a good idea to break the atmosphere isn’t it.

Banri:

Well, if it continues that way, we won’t be able to make it for the ‘escape game’, I guess there’s no other choice.

This ‘escape game’ is one that I’m really interested in.

Anyway, that voting before, what did you choose, Chikage-san.

Chikage:

I feel that both are fine… But I choose A.

Banri:

Really, me too.

Chikage:

Haha, so we chose the same thing.

Then, where are we going now?

Banri:

Today’s ‘escape game’ is a little bit different from the usual one.

… Look, this is the game’s website.

Chikage:

Eh, this place…

<Shifts to Shrine>

Chikage:

As I thought, it’s here.

I helped out here during the moon-viewing party before.

Banri:

Ah, that one.

If I remember correctly, I heard that you also danced for the offering ceremony.

Chikage:

You’re right.

Priest:

Oh, you are…

Chikage:

Good afternoon, long time no see.

Priest:

It’s been a while.

Thank you so much for your help during the moon-viewing party.

Chikage:

You’re welcome.

… So, this shrine also holds an ‘escape game’.

Priest:

You came to participate in the ‘escape game’ is it.

Thank you so much.

I’m doing this so that everyone can feel the friendliness of the shrine, in order for everyone to be more interested in this shrine.

We believe for the rabbits to be the divine messenger, there are a lot of rabbit paintings and decorations around, and people mostly visit during the moon-viewing season--.

That’s why, we’re trying to do a special event for end of year.

But during new year, people tend to visit other shrines and temples instead… To be honest, I’m having quite a hard time.

Banri:

It’s a real issue for the temple huh…

Chikage:

True that.

Priest:

… Anyway, what’s your theatre company planning to do at the end of the year?

Chikage:

New year huh?

Most probably it’s going to be the same as usual, end of year party and…

Banri:

That right?

The annual Kakushigei tournament.

Priest:

A Kakushigei tournament huh… I see.

If that’s the case…

<End of Chapter 1>

Banri:

I’m home.

Chikage:

I’m home.

Director:

The two of you, welcome back.

Citron:

Welcome~!

You were at an ‘escape game’ right?

Banri:

Yeah. Sorry for slipping out during the day.

So about that vote, have you guys made the decision?

Taichi:

About that, we still cannot decide~

Tsuzuru:

The discussion runs in parallel, and in the end we never get to decide.

Banri:

Seriously.

Tenma:

How’s the ‘escape game’?

Chikage:

They have quite elaborate content, it was fun.

Banri:

It’s located in a shrine, but it was fresh and interesting.

Chikage:

Yeah. Actually, the ‘escape game’ this time is held in the rabbit shrine where we did the moon-viewing party last time.

Kazunari:

For real!? So that shrine also holds an ‘escape  game’~!

Chikage:

We happened to meet the priest there too.

We were asked if we would like to appear at their end of year event as MANKAI company.

Director:

Is it a performance request!?

Banri:

When we told him that we usually do a Kakushigei tournament during new year, he asked if we would like to show it off as an event there instead.

Tsuzuru:

You mean, it won’t be a play, but a Kakushigei performance!?

Kazunari:

That’s lit!

It sounds interesting to do Kakushigei on the stage of a shrine!

Taichi:

It sounds really fun! I want to do it!

Citron:

… I, am inspired.

Tsuzuru:

What’s with that weird look.

Citron:

The previous voting was a draw. So—

We’ll divide the A and B into red and white group, and battle it out during the Kakushigei tournament, how about that!?

Taichi:

Damn! Citron’s a genius!

Tenma:

Huh!? Seriously.

Sakyo:

I have nothing to say…

Kazunari:

But, by doing that we can take the challenge more seriously, and it should hype out the event more, even the audiences will be more excited isn’t it!?

Director:

You’re right…

That shrine has taken care of us during the moon-viewing party too.

I think it’s a good idea to do this kind of performance once in a while.

Tsuzuru:

Well, it’s true that we haven’t decided on what to do for Kakushigei this year too.

Citron:

Yes!

The chance is here, Kakushigei tournament, everyone let’s hype it up!

Kazunari:

You can show off the different appeal of this theatre company as well!

Right, Frooch-san!

Sakyo:

Geez, fine…

But, if you want to do it, everyone has to give their all.

Taichi:

Alright!

This is so exciting~!

Banri:

Then, we’ll accept the Kakushigei tournament performance.

Director:

Yup, let’s do it!

Chikage:

… Then, there’s actually one more request that I’ve received.

Director:

?

<Flashback to Shrine>

Priest:

It’s different from the ‘Moon Recital’ that we did during the moon-viewing party, and we haven’t done it in years but…

The past end of year festival… We used to present a dance for the “Rabbit Lunar New Year Fair”.

Chikage:

Hmm, I see.

Priest:

The dance at the moon-viewing party was wonderful, even if it’s only this year, I would like to revive this tradition, I would like to request this from you.

<Back to Present>

Banri:

The priest also mentioned about a special reward.

Tsuzuru:

Something special from the priest?

It can’t be…

Chikage:

The reward is not a figurine this time, I have confirmed it.

Kazunari:

Oh, really?

Taichi:

What will the reward be~!?

I’m getting even more excited now!

Sakyo:

Even as theatre company, the moon-viewing party was one of good reputation.

I was grateful we received such request that time.

Director:

You’re right. Then, let’s accept the dance offer as well!

<Short Time Skip>

Director:

So, for the dance, I’ll leave it to the members here!

Banri:

Yup.

Chikage:

Please treat me well.

Hisoka:

Zzz…

Tsuzuru:

Mikage-san, please wake up.

Azuma:

Fufu, the line-up sounds good.

Director:

Chikage-san, Tsuzuru-kun, Hisoka-san, and Juza-kun, the four of you have participated in the moon-viewing party before right.

I’ll be counting on you.

Juza:

I’m going to give it my all for the performance this time too.

Tenma:

But, the Kakushigei will run in parallel with the performance, you have to practice for both, it’s going to be quite taxing.

Director:

For the details, I will be meeting the priest in the near future to discuss about it.

Tenma:

Hmm? Someone’s phone is ringing.

Banri:

Ah, it’s mine.

… My bad, it’s a phone call.

I’ll go out for a bit.

Azuma:

Go ahead.

<End of Chapter 2>

Chikage:

…Hmm?

Banri:

Eh, isn’t is Chikage-san.

It’s rare to see you around here.

Chikage:

I was on my favorite curry shop.

On my way back now.

Banri:

You’re a spice maniac as usual… So dedicated.

Chikage:

I’ll take it as a compliment.

Then, what are you doing, Banri?

Banri;

Shopping for the Kakushigei.

Chikage:

Oh, as expected of Banri.

You’re pretty dedicated as the leader of the red group.

Banri:

You said something nice for someone who partly got forced into that position…

Staff:

It’s amazake! Try it out!

Banri:

Hmm?

Staff!

I’m giving out amazake samples!

Would you like to try one?

Banri:

Why not, I’ll take it.

Staff:

Alright, there you go~

Chikage:

Thank you.

Banri:

It’s warm.

Chikage:

… Sweet.

Banri:

Is it really that sweet?

Amazake’s usually like this.

Chikage:

The one that I drink before had ginger in it, I could drink it because it wasn’t as sweet.

Banri:

Ah, I’m the opposite of that. When I was small, I drank amazake with ginger and it was a bit too much, it became kind of a trauma.

Since then, the amazake that’s served in my house was always the sweet malted rice kind and by the time we realized it, it has become a new year tradition for us.

Well, I feel that if I can choose, I prefer the sweet one.

Chikage:

Oh, I see.

Then, would you like to drink my share too?

Banri:

… If that, I have to refuse.

<Shifts to Dorm>

Director:

Then, let’s start the meeting for the dance team.

Juza:

Right.

Tsuzuru:

… Eh, why is Citron-san here?

Banri:

Citron-san is not a member of the dance team right.

Citron:

As White team, I’m going to latch on the Red team’s conversation and check if I can get any useful information!

Tenma:

What is that even.

Azuma:

As usual, the prince is an interesting one.

Director:

Anyway, let’s move on…

When I went to ask for the details, he requested for a casual dance performance for young people.

The acting part will also be similar to last time, and I’m going to ask Tsuzuru to arrange something for it.

Tsuzuru:

It will be a good learning experience to arrange a performance that has been handed down through generations, I’m more than happy to do it.

Director:

About the dance, the Priest will be training you.

Chikage:

He taught us during the moon-viewing party as well.

Tsuzuru:

Ah…

That priest’s training was really a strict one wasn’t it.

Juza:

… When it comes to training, his tone changes completely.

Hisoka:

… Yeah.

Azuma:

Really.

Banri:

On the contrary, I’m actually looking forward to it.

<Short Time Skip>

Director:

Then, that’s all for today’s meeting.

Thank you for your hard work.

Chikage:

Good work.

Citron:

Oh!

Everyone, look~!

Hisoka:

… Ah.

Director:

It’s snowing…!

Azuma:

Speaking of which, the weather forecast did say that it might snow today.

Banri:

No wonder it’s cold.

Tenma:

Oh, it’s beautiful.

Juza:

Yeah.

Tsuzuru:

It’s snowing quite heavily.

Chikage:

Yeah, it looks like it’s going to pile up soon.

<End of Chapter 3>

Kumon:

When there’s snow, of course we have to do snowball fight!

Let’s go~! Take this!

Taichi:

You did it huh~ I’m not going to lose either!

Taichi Special Blizzard Shot!!

Misumi:

Oh oops~!

Take this!

Kazunari:

Sakusaku, you’re wide open!

There!

Sakuya:

Woah!?

Muku:

Make the snow round, then…

Yuki:

A snowman?

Muku:

Yup! We don’t have much snow yet, so I think I can only make a small one.

Tsumugi:

I think even the small one is cute.

I’ll try to make one too.

Yuki:

Then, I think I have a button that will fit a snowman, I’ll bring it here.

Chikage:

The hype is up.

Tsuzuru:

Everyone’s so energetic.

Kumon:

Ah, Big Brother! Let’s play together~!

Juza:

My bad, but we’re going to practice at the shrine now.

Kumon:

Oh, I see~. That’s too bad…

Kazunari:

Everyone, fight on!

Misumi:

Have a safe trip!

<Shifts to Shrine>

Azuma:

When the shrine’s covered with snow, the atmosphere it gives out is quite different, it’s beautiful.

Tsuzuru:

You’re right. I feel like I’m starting to get some ideas too.

Banri:

Oh, there’s a rabbit hut.

Chikage:

The one over here, this rabbit is said to be the rabbit priest of the shrine.

Tenma:

Oh… So, it’s Mr. rabbit priest.

Tsuzuru:

I was utterly manipulated by this rabbit that escaped previously…

Juza:

Yeah…

Hisoka:

It was pretty hard to catch him, it was rough.

Chikage:

Well, it seems that he’s going to stay put today, isn’t it great.

Priest:

Everyone, thank you for coming.

Azuma:

Good afternoon.

I’m looking forward to work with you this time.

Priest:

Same here, pleased to work with you.

Banri:

Then, let’s start our practice immediately.

Priest:

Before that…

Banri:

?

<Short Time Skip>

Tenma:

Why does it have to be us, it becomes a snow shoveling session…

Hisoka:

Snooze…

Tsuzuru:

Mikage-san, please don’t fall asleep in the middle of the snow!

Chikage:

I’m more or less done getting rid of the snow over here.

Banri:

Azuma-san, how’s over there?

Azuma:

Is this alright?

Juza:

It’s a beautiful snow bunny.

Hisoka:

It’s fluffy, it’s cute.

Reminds me of Azuma.

Tsuzuru:

I understand about shoveling the snow in the main road, but I wonder what the snow bunny is about.

Banri:

I wonder. Well, it seems that he’s going to explain later anyway, for now, let’s just continue making them.

<Short Time Skip>

Juza:

…

Banri:

No, yours is not even a rabbit anymore!

Tsuzuru:

Somehow, it becomes a mysterious creature instead…

Tenma:

Banri-san’s snow bunny looks like the real thing.

Chikage:

As expected.

Banri:

Well, this much is pretty easy.

Hisoka:

Tenma’s one is just a round snowball with the leaf ears…

Tenma:

Uh, I don’t know how to make the shape of the snow bunny.

Azuma:

I think this kind of snow bunny is cute too though.

Banri:

Tsuzuru’s snow bunny… Somehow, it’s a bit disappointing.

Chikage:

You’re right.

Tsuzuru:

What do you even mean by that.

Juza:

Hisoka-san’s snow bunny looks great.

Hisoka:

It’s white, and round… I’m seeing marshmallow…

Banri:

Eh, wait! Don’t eat the snow!

Tsuzuru:

Chikage-san’s snow bunny… Somehow…

It has a unique shape to it.

Tenma:

I thought you would make a perfect snow bunny, just like Banri-san.

Azuma:

Fufu, it’s kind of surprising.

Chikage:

… If you are living the normal life of an office worker, not being able to make something like this is normal.

Hisoka:

… Be strong.

Chikage:

Shut up.

<End of Chapter 4>